A/N: This was written for the HPFC Camp Potter Paintball Challenge week 1. This is canon up until the Astronomy Tower in book 6 and completely deviates from book 7.
WARNINGS:Angsty!Slash Rated T with some adult situations ahead, but I will let you, Dear Readers, know ahead of time.
W-I-P. Please keep checking back for updates to this story.
Disclaimer: The characters do not belong to me, none of it belongs to me, I just put them in different situations.
First time for everything: Chapter 1: {Phoenix Light and Curses}
"Draco, you're not listening." whined Pansy, pulling him out of his reverie. Leaning back and disentangling her hands from his silver hair, she yelled, "Oi!" prodding him in the ribs, provoking a steely gaze from two irritated hoary-grey eyes.
"Get the fuck away, Pansy. I've had enough of your shite to last me a life time. Merlin knows I could care less about whatever inane objects you consider interesting." Draco snapped. He got up, smoothing the creases from his robes, and crossed the common room to the door.
"You seemed to care last night," she muttered, looking at her hands, hiding the tears rolling down her pallid face.
He stopped mid stride rage glinting behind slitted pupils. In three confident steps he reached her. Pulling her up by the shoulders and shaking her slightly. "Get this through your fucking untenanted head. I. Don't. Care. For. You. So wipe the fervent thought from your pea brain before I pound some sense into it. It was only a fuck." he snapped, throwing her onto the emerald green cushions, walking to the door.
Stunned, she stared at his retreating form.
With a look over his shoulder, he addressed her. "I suggest you go get fucked. You seem to excel at that." he pulled the door open and stepped into the cool flag stone corridor, inhaling the cold stale air. With a smirk pulling at his lips, he turned towards the dungeons and caught a glimpse of her running up the stairs through the closing door. She was the only one whom he felt any power over.
Lost in thought he maneuvered aimlessly through the stone halls. Since the death of the headmaster at Snape's hands, his world had turned upside down. Only a few Slytherins remained. The others in eternal servitude to the Dark Lord. He was extended protection by the new headmistress after Dumbledore's portrait was established among the throng of former headmasters and headmistresses. The late professor explained to the entire Order that he was suspicious of a spy among them. Snape was that traitor, twice the double agent. It was on the Dark Lord's orders that Snape ensured the death of the headmaster. They agreed Draco would prove most useful in the war, but it was mental torture enduring training sessions with Precious Potter and His idiot Sidekicks. But at least they treated him like a person and not an annoying rash. Everyone, from teacher to student, with the exception of the trio, Pansy, and the headmistress, treated him like an infectious sore. If looks could kill...Skipping a stray pebble along the floor, he continued his solitary walk.
"I can help you, Draco. The Order will protect you…." The elderly professor's voice tormented. Ensuring his guilt, caging him like an animal. Crack pot old fool, he thought, you couldn't even protect yourself. His mind kept flashing back to the Astronomy tower on the windy night. Snape had intervened, had taken the task from him, and liberated him. Draco kicked the pebble fiercely, blinking back tears. He stopped abruptly when a delicate fragrance invaded his senses. It was sweet and fresh. Vaguely familiar. He inhaled deeply, closing his eyes to savor the olfactory treat. It smelled of fresh cut grass, pine, and broom polish. Draco sighed, losing himself in the sensual fragrance with all thoughts of the astronomy tower vanishing from his mind. His nose, willing his feet to move, followed the scent to an open classroom. It was completely dark save for the fire burning beneath a bubbling cauldron. A dark shape moved swiftly between the glowing pot and the horde of supplies haphazardly arranged on a nearby desk. The figure reached to collect a phial. He dropped it, and scattered sparkling glass across the floor. The dark figure swore and stooped to mutter Reparo, and retrieve the tiny jar. The fire danced across a copper mane as the figure righted himself, pouring the simmering liquid into the phial. Draco felt a shiver ripple down his back settling in his groin.
Weasley, he thought, his heart pounding erratically. He's so beautiful. He closed his eyes and a groan escaped his lips. Draco snapped his eyes open just as the redhead turned his head up in his direction and a jet of red light erupted from his wand. It hit Draco in the chest, slamming him back into the corridor wall. Draco slumped to the floor, gasping as his breath was pulled from his lungs. Blood blossomed from within his robes, running in little rivulets to pool in his lap. Hurried footsteps pounded beneath the swishing of robes. Strong freckle-dusted arms pulled him to his feet.
"What the fuck, Ferret? I could have killed you!" Ron bellowed, his blue eyes sparkling with rage. He slammed Draco against the wall. "What are you playing at? Why were you spying on me?" he released Draco, freckled hands smeared in blood.
Draco swayed, faint from the loss of blood. "Fuck…you….Weasel." his knees buckled and he fell against the wall.
"Shite, Malfoy. I didn't mean to hex you. You just caught me unawares." Ron replied softly distress echoing in his voice. With worry etched across his face, Ron pulled Draco up, supporting the blond against himself. Draco gratefully leaned into him. "Let's get you to the infirmary."
"No…won't…help….me" he gasped, the colour fading from his pasty face, making him look like death.
"Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Shite!" Ron cursed, hauling Draco into the dark classroom and lighting the candelabra. He sat him on a bench. Biting his lower lip he looked at the Slytherin. "I think I can stop the bleeding." Draco stared at the redhead, uncertain. "Then I'll fetch Hermione. She's been training as a Mediwitch."
Draco nodded.
"Take your shirt off," Ron instructed.
The blond obeyed but almost passed out in exertion. "Oh hell" he gasped, falling back.
Ron moved swiftly behind catching him. He leaned Draco against his broad chest, helping him remove his clothing. Ron shifted, making them both straddle the bench for better support. He rested his face next to Draco's cheek, pulling off the offending material.
"Oh fuck," Draco whispered in awe looking down at the bleeding hole right below his collar bone. Ron put his wand in the wound and muttered an incantation. Instantly the blood stopped flowing. Draco closed his eyes, resting his head in the crook of Ron's neck. He turned his head slightly and inhaled Ron's wasted breath. It was warm and sweet. He opened his eyes at the sudden surge of restored energy. He sat up, the colour returning in a blush to his face.
"What did you hit me with?" Draco asked, impressed and aggrieved.
"Phoenix light" Ron muttered. He cast scourgify on Draco's chest and ran a hand through his wild copper mane, leaving specks of dried blood in its wake.
"What?" Draco asked, looking over his shoulder. Ron still had an arm draped loosely around Draco's waist.
"Phoenix light. Fenistelum. Harry taught me." he said looking guilty, moving away from the injured blond to stand. "Sorry, Malfoy. You just startled me. I was concentrating."
"Difficult feat that. Surely a rare occasion." Draco snapped. Wincing as he ran his palm over the still gaping wound. Sensing eyes on him, he looked up. "Well?"
"What?"
Throwing his hands in the air he said, "Granger, you sodding bastard. Go get her. Kind of holey here." Sighing exasperatedly, he softened his features. "I know you didn't mean to. It's my fault. Now go or I'll hex you."
Ron smiled sheepishly and took to his task.
Draco stretched out on the bench to wait. He closed his eyes, covering the wound with his discarded tie. He relaxed and inhaled deeply. The bench smelled of Ron. Bugger. his eyes snapped open. Ron's warmth still lingered on the bench beneath his back. Draco was in trouble, and he knew it.
How can the little weasel do this to me? Draco thought angrily. It's mental. I'm mental. Oh But he smells so good. Draco exhaled and sat up. Footsteps reverberating down the hall and into the room. Moments later, Hermione and Ron entered the class room.
Hermione gasped at the sight of Draco. Anger flashing in her eyes as she looked at him. "What did you do, Malfoy?" she asked harshly.
"What? Nothing!" he said defensively. "Your friend, the Sneaky Weasel, attacked me." he said pointing to Ron who stood behind Hermione looking stressed.
"He's right, 'Mione. He just startled me. It was an accident." he said, twisting his hands around his tie.
"Whatever. Let me take a look." she unceremoniously yanked the tie from the wound and roughly inserted her wand in the tender flesh.
"Fuck!" Draco hissed, pulling away from her probing wand.
"Hold still. Do you want me to heal you? I swear! Men are such babies." she said exasperated. She grasped his shoulder to steady him. She closed her eyes and muttered an incantation that slowly mended the tattered flesh, expelling the wand in the process.
"There. Can I go finish my session with Mediwitch Zabini? Or do I have to stay and make sure you boys play nice?" she huffed, crossing her arms and pursing her lips.
"By all means, take your leave." Draco snapped. "And thank you." he added, inspecting his chest.
She smiled, turning to Ron and patting him on the shoulder.
"Thanks, 'Mione." Ron replied.
"Just be careful next time. Okay." Ron smiled feebly at her as she left.
"Yes, Weasel. Merlin knows I don't need another scar." Draco retorted, buttoning his school shirt over a noticeably long pale white scar running from the hollow in his neck to the left of his naval. Getting to his feet, he strode over to the cooling cauldron, and sniffed the aromatic fragrance. He closed his eyes at the rich scent. Tearing himself away from it, he finished pulling on his clothes. "What's this?" he asked looking back at Ron holding up the little sample phial.
Panicked, Ron banished the potion and snatched the phial away from Draco. "Nothing. Just messing around."
Draco shrugged. "I don't recognize it. It smells good, though." He stooped to pick up his robe and stopped in front of Ron. He raised Ron's hand and placed it on his chest where the injury had been. "I'm fine. Really. You don't have to worry. Okay?"
Looking slightly at ease, Ron nodded. They stood like that for a while staring, blue into grey. The warmth of Ron's palm sending shivers racing down Draco's body.
Ron broke away abruptly. "I better go. We have training tonight. See you there." Ron hurried out of the room, leaving Draco standing alone.
"See you later." Ron. What would it sound like if I said his name? Ron. Ron. Ronald. Ron. Ron Weasley. Delicious, beautiful Ron. He thought. "Look what you did." he whispered. Shaking his head, he pulled his hand away from his chest and smelled the lingering Ron-scent.
He wandered aimlessly again, mind occupied with the events that just transpired; his feet leading him unaware of where he was headed.
At the feel of a gentle breeze rustling his hair, Draco looked up, drawn away from his thoughts. His breath hitched and his mind tumbled back to that night.
Dumbledore stood there unarmed, eyes twinkling in the light and offering mercy.
MERCY!
Draco backed up to the entrance of the tower, backing away as the memory replayed itself in his mind.
"It's too late. There are Deatheaters in the school. I let them in."
"It's never too late, dear boy, for mercy or salvation. I can see it in your heart, Draco, you are not like your father, and you are not like Voldemort." Dumbledore stood there unflinching, and full of compassion.
"You don't know a thing about me! I'm not doing this because I want to…" Draco's wand wavering slightly, "I have to do this. To save my family"
"We can help you; the Order can protect you, dear boy! And your family, your mother."
Slowly, Draco's wand dropped to his side. He
He could see it as clear as day: Snape bursting into the middle of the fight, pushing Draco to the side and killing the headmaster. He pointed his wand at his old potions master, Snape growled at him and fled. The mission completed but not by him. And he felt relief and regret.
Then Harry Potter appeared out of nowhere, guiding him away from the fighting, protecting him. Draco muttering incoherently.
He shook the memory away.
He walked through the door, heading to his dorm to collect his things to shower and change. A nice hot bath. Maybe I can drown my thoughts.
Once in the prefect's bathroom, he turned the tap to fill the swimming pool sized tub. He stripped and tested the water with a pale toe. Hot. Near boiling. Perfect. He stepped in and hissed as the water forced a blush from his creamy skin. He settled back and closed his eyes. Without thinking, he ran his porcelain fingers in slow circles where Ron's warm palm had been only moments earlier. It still tingled from the sensation.
"Ron..."
*
Fantastic, Ron, bloody brilliant! He thought, rounding the corner. He took a narrow staircase hidden behind a large blue tapestry. Now he thinks I don't trust him. "Oh Draco." he sighed, "Why do you have to be a sight for sore eyes. You didn't even notice." he reached the portrait of the Fat Lady. "Draconis Amori" he mumbled with a sigh.
"Oh to be in the throes of young passion!" the fat lady replied enthusiastically at the sullen look displayed on his face. She swung forward to allow him passage. "Who is the lucky girl?"
"Bugger off." Ron huffed stepping through the round entrance.
"So rude!" she said looking harassed. "Boy?" she asked, giggling and oscillating shut behind him.
"Malfoy, behind you!" bellowed Harry who was rapidly spewing curses. Draco was surrounded by three members of the Order in Deatheater masks. One was approaching from behind as he dueled against the two in front of him. He didn't hear Harry over the noise.
"Petrificus Totalis!" Ron sent the curse over the shoulder of the Deatheater he was battling, freezing the one behind Draco. The Deatheater took advantage of his lack of concentration, advancing upon him, sending Ron flying. The Deatheater quickly bound him and turned to help on the assault against Harry.
"Ron!" Hermione cried. She blasted four masked enemies away and bound them. Standing back-to-back, Ginny and Hermione were effectively combating the throng of mock Deatheaters.
The other members of the D.A. had been immobilized after about thirty minutes of fighting. The only ones left standing were Hermione, Ginny, Harry, Draco, Neville, and Seamus. The others lay motionless around them. But they were vastly outnumbered.
Registering the effect of the pair, Harry bellowed an order. "Find someone and stand back-to-back!"
Seamus paired Neville and Harry paired Draco. The two girls staying together. Jets of light bounced off the walls and floor. Neville took out two with an incredibly cast curse. Only twelve Deatheaters remained. They retreated and formed a circle, trapping the students in the middle.
"Potter…" Draco hissed, falling in to flank Harry.
"I know Malfoy. Wait for it. Let them come to us." Harry replied, bending his knees to steady himself. They started moving in a slow circle counter clock wise, tightly flanking each other. They waited wands at the ready.
The Deatheaters moved in.
"Shoot to stun. On my mark." Harry ordered. The Deatheaters moved swiftly towards the huddled teens. "Now!" a series of red lights soared through the air, hitting their targets. In seconds, the remaining Deatheaters lay motionless on the floor.
Draco ran to Ron as soon as the last flash of red vanished. "Finite Incantetum" he whispered. Ron blinked, and stared into Draco's eyes.
"Ferret..." he croaked, his eyes crinkling in amusement, "I saved you. You owe me."
"Yes, Weasel." Draco replied, stroking the flame red hair. "Up you get. Come on." He extended his arm, hauling Ron to his feet. "Let's help the others." he said, pulling Ron to the nearest person.
"Err…Malfoy?"
Draco looked back at him. "What?" Panicked silver eyes pouring over Ron, worry pulling at his mouth. "Are you injured?"
"No. But, err, can I have my hand back?" Ron looked down at his right hand encompassed tightly in Draco's left. "It's my wand hand."
Draco smiled sheepishly and released the freckled hand. "Sorry." fuck! He thought. What am I doing?
"It's ok." Ron replied, a blush creeping up beneath his freckles. "Come on, the others need help." he put his palm on Draco's back and urged him forward.
He's so warm. Draco thought. Bugger. Stupid Weasel.
They helped the others and transfigured the Great Hall to its pristine conditions prior to the training session.
"That went fairly well." Harry said. "Good job, every one."
"What the fuck, Ron!" Hermione yelled, poking Ron in the chest. "What were you thinking? You never risk your neck for another member! Never! You know the rules."
"I know, Hermione, but Draco, I mean Malfoy was in trouble." he stammered, backing away to escape Hermione's wrath.
He said my name! He thought, a smile creeping onto his pale face.
"Really." she said studying the red-head, throwing a dirty look in Draco's direction.
"What are you smiling at, Malfoy?" Ginny asked, poking Draco in the ribs.
"Nothing." He looked down trying to hide his glee.
A soft cough brought all the bustling to a halt.
"This was a most effective session. Team work, very good Ms. Granger, Ms. Weasley." Professor McGonagall said. "However, I think the rest of you need to work on cooperation and strategy. We will resume on Friday. I suggest you discuss this session to better prepare."
The chattering Order and D.A. members moved to the doors discussing tactics and spells. Draco was the first to leave. He turned towards the dungeons.
"Malfoy, Can I have a word?" Hermione called after him.
Draco turned back. "If you must." he replied, shrugging. He followed her towards a secluded alcove.
"What are you playing at?" Hermione asked, heatedly.
"What are you on about?" Draco replied. Shite.
"You know very well what I mean. I'm not blind, Malfoy. Answer me." Hermione crossed her arms over her chest, tapping her foot.
"Really? You can see through that tumbleweed you call hair?" he snapped.
"Cut the act, Malfoy. I saw you rush to Ron. Why?"
Straightening his robes, he looked down at the bushy-haired girl. "I have nothing to explain to you, Granger."
"You like him, then?"
He shook his head, silver strands falling over his eyes. "What? I seriously think that birds-nest of yours is draining your intellect." he snapped
"Are you going to do something about it?"
He shook his head and looked at her. "If you are not going to attempt a rational conversation..."
"Cut the crap, Malfoy." she cut in, raising an eyebrow. "Are you in love with Ron?"
"Granger, keep those perverse thoughts to yourself. They're disgusting." with that Draco walked off, heading to his common room, leaving a smirking Hermione in the shadows.
What was that? Ron thought. Since when do I call him by his given name? "Fuck" he said kicking the trunk at the foot of his bed. Why was he spying on me? Does he know?
Ron pulled off his clothes and climbed into bed in only his boxers. He pulled the curtains shut, muttered a silencing charm and fell back on his pillows. He could still feel Draco's warm back on his chest. He closed his eyes and smiled. He imagined wrapping his arms around the blonde's slim athletic waist, pulling him into a passionate kiss, ruby lips enveloping pale pink ones.
Ron moaned.
"Draco…" he moaned into his pillow. "Oh Draco" fell asleep, the image of Draco burning behind his eyelids.
"Out. Get the fuck out!" Draco yelled at his father's black eagle-owl. "Take the fucking letter back."
The bird ruffled his feathers, peering through beady blood red eyes. A shrill hoot rumbled from its beak as it swiftly turned tail when Draco launched a heavy volume at it. The emerald ink sparkled on the cream parchment. The seal, stamped with the Dark Mark, moved making the wax bubble.
"Bloody fucking bastard. The nerve." Draco levitated the letter, aware of any dangers it might contain, and headed out of his dormitory.
He maneuvered his way to the headmistress's office, pausing outside the entrance.
"Err…I need to see the headmistress…" Draco said, a bit confused. He had never been to the renovated office before. The former gargoyle and moving staircase had been destroyed, and the office burned when the death eaters stormed the castle. In place of the gargoyle, a shimmering mirror was erected. Intricately carved runes hugged the sides of the mirror. "I request a meeting with the headmistress." He said with an air of authority.
Nothing happened.
"Open the fuck up, you bloody piece of shi…"
"I think you're supposed to walk through it." Came a response
Draco spun around, startled. The letter released from its spell, floated to the floor.
Ron chuckled. "Too good to hold a letter, Malfoy? Don't wanna get ink on your delicate fingers, I imagine." he said, with a lopsided grin on his face.
"No Weasel. It's from m… NO! Don't touch it!" he yelled, horrified as Ron stooped to pick up the correspondence.
He ran forward to stop him. Too late.
A cloud of silver smoke erupted engulfing the redhead. He coughed, swirling the putrid smoke away from his face. The envelope began to emit a faint orange glow. With a whimper and a gasp, Ron crumpled to the floor. Blood gushing from his mouth, his body writhing in pain. The smoke started clearing as Draco fell on his knees beside the convulsing Gryffindor. Draco placed a shaking hand on the pale freckled face.
Professor McGonagall stepped through the shimmering glass and gasped at the horrible sight before her. Draco's streaming eyes moved from the quaking form before him to those of the elderly witch.
"Mr. Malfoy…what is the meaning of this?" she croaked, placing a hand over her heart.
"He…he…he…" was all he could manage as he looked back at Ron. He dragged Ron's torso off the cold stone to cradle him against his heaving chest. "He opened my letter…my letter. It was for me and he opened it, the git. I couldn't stop him professor…he just…and then…" his voice trailed off in a series of hiccoughs.
"We need to take him to the hospital wing. Do you still have the letter?"
"Yes"
"Good. Levitate it to the infirmary to examine it." She conjured a stretcher and levitated the redheads now limp form out of Draco's arms. "Who sent it, Draco?"
"My father." He whispered looking at his bloody hands.