Legend
Chapter XII: Flame
by Marie McKinnon
As night fell, a lone Slytherin meandered through the castle's dungeons to his dormitory.
He had his own room, courtesy of his position as a Prefect and of his unbelievably wealthy
father, furnished with a green-curtained four poster, night table, desk accompanied by a chair,
and fireplace. A thick rug prevented his feet from catching cold, though he chose to leave the
rest of himself cold by never lighting the fire. A casual snap of his fingers illuminated the room,
chasing the shadows into corners where they wouldn't be detected.
He slid into the carved desk chair with the grace he made sure to use at all times and slit
open an envelope closed with the Malfoy seal. When would his father finally use his famed
Slytherin cunning and realize that Voldemort would banish all his followers the moment he
gained control? Every day a thick stationery envelope lay on his desk when he returned after
evening activities, the rounded script inside exhorting him to accept his destiny and bear the Dark
Mark with as much pride as his father did. Father. He spat the word. It meant nothing to him.
The only things he could thank the man linked to him by the intricacies of biology for were a
good education, his magic, and money. After all, what kind of Slytherin would he be without
money?
Tongues of flame devoured the thick paper eagerly as a smile played around the edges of
Draco's mouth. It was the high point of his day to watch that hated signature become a mound of
ash, unrecognisable and the very symbol of destruction. He wanted to turn his father to ash. The
second to last scrap of paper, the one containing the introduction, was licked up and left only the
greeting. Dear Draco. He scoffed. Fire embraced it and blackened it beyond recognition. Those
flames gave him such vindictive pleasure that he would have loved to hold the flame in his hand
and stare as each red hot flicker bit into everything his father believed in.
Flame. Her gorgeous, silky hair was a flame, and she was red hot without a doubt.
Flirting. Ginny. The words didn't attach to each other in any way, but her way of doing so fitted
her perfectly. A seductive smile, lidded eyes, and confident movements lured her prey to her
more accurately than fluttering eyelashes or dropped handkerchiefs. Her eyes were
unremarkable in themselves. Mahogany, but deep and clear, so expressive that her eye messages
were better understood than her enigmatic turns of phrase. She'd wanted him to hold her, to kiss
her. Not a word had been spoken, but she'd transmitted the message nonetheless. Those eyes
had transmitted the message with their incredulity at his unwillingness to give a more extensive
display of his abilities. They had entranced him. He hadn't been able to look away while he
held her. For Heaven's sake, he hadn't been able to believe that he actually held her, not some
goddess who looked like her and wanted to torment him. A tight spin gave him leave to hold her
more tightly, which he'd done with pleasure.
How had they caught him? He couldn't begin to understand any possible reason for the
Gryffindors to be watching the lake. It wasn't as though they were in collusion to catch
Slytherins doing something wrong. Ron probably thought his timing was perfect, just right to
save the helpless damsel at the last moment, right when her captor was going to give her a kiss.
Draco thought it would have been better if they'd arrived earlier, for the thought of being within
two millimeters of tasting those lovely lips would torture him until he finally won her. Which
wouldn't be too long, considering how much she'd resisted him on the lake. Not much. Not at
all was more like it. Oh, he would show Potter, take that awful swagger out of the Gryffindor's
step and take his girl with it.
His girl. Yeah, right. Every time Potter tried something, she was ready with some brand
of defense. Rumours spread nonetheless, giving the particulars of their romantic relationship.
Had anyone cared to tell the truth, they would have added Harry's trip to the hospital wing and
the incident they appeared to have had in the common room at the very beginning of the year.
Well, he couldn't blame his arch-rival for wanting her. That was probably the only thing they
agreed on, other than that they hated each other. She was just so beautiful, and by looking at her
anyone could tell she had power. It was in the way she walked, in her nonchalance, in her
ringing voice. Obvious as well was her intelligence. Her eloquence was unmistakable,
especially when put to use in righteous fury. Anyone could see the cogs turning in her mind after
presenting an interesting point in a debate or a fact relating to the subject she was trying to
understand. She always made connections.
Doubly dangerous, Ginny was. For the moment he was content to slip into dozing
fantasies of her beauty and wit without having to fulfill them.
~ A spotlight seemed to be on him in the Great Hall. Everyone looked his way as Ginny,
more gorgeous than usual in a very short, tight skirt and sleeveless shirt, stepped across the room.
He didn't wait a moment before drawing her into his arms and planting a kiss on her lips. It sent
shivers down his spine, but shivers of excitement. Once he could force himself to release her, he
kept his arms linked around her middle and walked out for some more privacy.
Harry stood in the doorway. "Let her go, Malfoy."
He laughed. "Jealous, Potter? Jealous because she won't let you hold her like this?
Jealous because she'll never let you kiss her? I would be if I were you."
Green eyes smoldering, his enemy's furious gaze followed the pair out of the Great
Hall.~
Draco sighed. That scene gave him such pleasure. The look on Potter's face embodied
his goal; to kill two birds with one stone and wound the stuck-up Gryffindor by displaying his
affection for Ginny and hers for him. All he needed was to put the fantasy into practise.
A second snap plunged the room into darkness, the fire the only light. Now the shadows
held the light at bay. He didn't care. A muttered charm doused the fire as he crept, catlike, out
of the dungeons and to the grounds. The dark of night and cold winds created by flight would
help him think. Perhaps then he could win her over.
Disclaimer: Yes, The Acts of King Arthur and His Noble Knights is by John Steinbeck. I can see
it from where I'm sitting, and it most definitely says "John Steinbeck" on the cover. So if you've
got a problem with that, come over and I'll bash you over the head with it until you accept the
fact that it *is* a Steinbeck book. Thank you. Next time: Ginny needs to think, but is
interrupted by her least favorite Gryff.
Chapter XII: Flame
by Marie McKinnon
As night fell, a lone Slytherin meandered through the castle's dungeons to his dormitory.
He had his own room, courtesy of his position as a Prefect and of his unbelievably wealthy
father, furnished with a green-curtained four poster, night table, desk accompanied by a chair,
and fireplace. A thick rug prevented his feet from catching cold, though he chose to leave the
rest of himself cold by never lighting the fire. A casual snap of his fingers illuminated the room,
chasing the shadows into corners where they wouldn't be detected.
He slid into the carved desk chair with the grace he made sure to use at all times and slit
open an envelope closed with the Malfoy seal. When would his father finally use his famed
Slytherin cunning and realize that Voldemort would banish all his followers the moment he
gained control? Every day a thick stationery envelope lay on his desk when he returned after
evening activities, the rounded script inside exhorting him to accept his destiny and bear the Dark
Mark with as much pride as his father did. Father. He spat the word. It meant nothing to him.
The only things he could thank the man linked to him by the intricacies of biology for were a
good education, his magic, and money. After all, what kind of Slytherin would he be without
money?
Tongues of flame devoured the thick paper eagerly as a smile played around the edges of
Draco's mouth. It was the high point of his day to watch that hated signature become a mound of
ash, unrecognisable and the very symbol of destruction. He wanted to turn his father to ash. The
second to last scrap of paper, the one containing the introduction, was licked up and left only the
greeting. Dear Draco. He scoffed. Fire embraced it and blackened it beyond recognition. Those
flames gave him such vindictive pleasure that he would have loved to hold the flame in his hand
and stare as each red hot flicker bit into everything his father believed in.
Flame. Her gorgeous, silky hair was a flame, and she was red hot without a doubt.
Flirting. Ginny. The words didn't attach to each other in any way, but her way of doing so fitted
her perfectly. A seductive smile, lidded eyes, and confident movements lured her prey to her
more accurately than fluttering eyelashes or dropped handkerchiefs. Her eyes were
unremarkable in themselves. Mahogany, but deep and clear, so expressive that her eye messages
were better understood than her enigmatic turns of phrase. She'd wanted him to hold her, to kiss
her. Not a word had been spoken, but she'd transmitted the message nonetheless. Those eyes
had transmitted the message with their incredulity at his unwillingness to give a more extensive
display of his abilities. They had entranced him. He hadn't been able to look away while he
held her. For Heaven's sake, he hadn't been able to believe that he actually held her, not some
goddess who looked like her and wanted to torment him. A tight spin gave him leave to hold her
more tightly, which he'd done with pleasure.
How had they caught him? He couldn't begin to understand any possible reason for the
Gryffindors to be watching the lake. It wasn't as though they were in collusion to catch
Slytherins doing something wrong. Ron probably thought his timing was perfect, just right to
save the helpless damsel at the last moment, right when her captor was going to give her a kiss.
Draco thought it would have been better if they'd arrived earlier, for the thought of being within
two millimeters of tasting those lovely lips would torture him until he finally won her. Which
wouldn't be too long, considering how much she'd resisted him on the lake. Not much. Not at
all was more like it. Oh, he would show Potter, take that awful swagger out of the Gryffindor's
step and take his girl with it.
His girl. Yeah, right. Every time Potter tried something, she was ready with some brand
of defense. Rumours spread nonetheless, giving the particulars of their romantic relationship.
Had anyone cared to tell the truth, they would have added Harry's trip to the hospital wing and
the incident they appeared to have had in the common room at the very beginning of the year.
Well, he couldn't blame his arch-rival for wanting her. That was probably the only thing they
agreed on, other than that they hated each other. She was just so beautiful, and by looking at her
anyone could tell she had power. It was in the way she walked, in her nonchalance, in her
ringing voice. Obvious as well was her intelligence. Her eloquence was unmistakable,
especially when put to use in righteous fury. Anyone could see the cogs turning in her mind after
presenting an interesting point in a debate or a fact relating to the subject she was trying to
understand. She always made connections.
Doubly dangerous, Ginny was. For the moment he was content to slip into dozing
fantasies of her beauty and wit without having to fulfill them.
~ A spotlight seemed to be on him in the Great Hall. Everyone looked his way as Ginny,
more gorgeous than usual in a very short, tight skirt and sleeveless shirt, stepped across the room.
He didn't wait a moment before drawing her into his arms and planting a kiss on her lips. It sent
shivers down his spine, but shivers of excitement. Once he could force himself to release her, he
kept his arms linked around her middle and walked out for some more privacy.
Harry stood in the doorway. "Let her go, Malfoy."
He laughed. "Jealous, Potter? Jealous because she won't let you hold her like this?
Jealous because she'll never let you kiss her? I would be if I were you."
Green eyes smoldering, his enemy's furious gaze followed the pair out of the Great
Hall.~
Draco sighed. That scene gave him such pleasure. The look on Potter's face embodied
his goal; to kill two birds with one stone and wound the stuck-up Gryffindor by displaying his
affection for Ginny and hers for him. All he needed was to put the fantasy into practise.
A second snap plunged the room into darkness, the fire the only light. Now the shadows
held the light at bay. He didn't care. A muttered charm doused the fire as he crept, catlike, out
of the dungeons and to the grounds. The dark of night and cold winds created by flight would
help him think. Perhaps then he could win her over.
Disclaimer: Yes, The Acts of King Arthur and His Noble Knights is by John Steinbeck. I can see
it from where I'm sitting, and it most definitely says "John Steinbeck" on the cover. So if you've
got a problem with that, come over and I'll bash you over the head with it until you accept the
fact that it *is* a Steinbeck book. Thank you. Next time: Ginny needs to think, but is
interrupted by her least favorite Gryff.