A/N: this chap is longer since it tackles Draco's life five years after the prologue. It's a bit boring so I hope you could bear with it.

Immortal Flame

Part One: The Dragon's Flames

Years don't matter

When you're dying inside

*~*~

Draco stood up, greeted acidly by the morning sun. He cursed it-he had been cursing it for five years now and each time, it would only respond by making his day miserable. He was used to it.

He washed his face, noting the dark circles that haunt his eyes growing wider by the second and he wanted to smash the mirror in front of him. This is not Draco Malfoy.

This is not the Draco Malfoy who used to intimidate the halls of Hogwarts with smooth, domineering strides and complacent, unfazed arrogance. Nor that person who insulted Harry Potter and his friends mercilessly. Not even the Malfoy who owned the largest room at the Slytherin Common Room, even larger than the Head Boy's or Prefect's. Or even the Draco who broke up with Hermione five years ago by the lake.

He sighed and shook his head. This is not the time to think about that, he chided himself. In fact, never is the time to think about that.

He stepped into the shower, stripping himself off his boxers and sighing at the relief the water brings on him. It makes him feel clean at one point. If he were to choose on how he would die, he'd opt for this, lounging on the shower. Why? Because at least, he died clean.

He really hates it when he wakes up from that dream. It's not that he doesn't want to let the dream end but he always wonders why the dream occurs. He had shut himself out of the wizarding world a long time ago, and they in turn had shut their doors for him.

Yet he had missed the wizarding world a whole lot. He had longed for the luxuries he had had at being a Malfoy. He had missed the riches, the satin bed sheets, the towering ceilings, the porcelain figurines-all things aesthetic. He had of course missed the feel of power, of magic in your hands.

He is still rich, earning 100,000 Euros a month and surrounded by women in any time he pleased. He had made his name in Muggledom without any effort and the wizarding world isn't so far away because of that.

But it still was, especially since he was stripped off of his "wizardness" five years ago.

He sided with Harry, Ron and Hermione the last time you were updated but a flaw had occurred in the process. Draco wasn't informed of the back-up plan that was to be implemented in case the group faces trouble. And so, when they did face trouble, Draco jumped to Voldemort's ship, thinking it was the winning side. Draco's fear of losing overcame him that's why he joined the other side. Hermione wasn't there when he flipped out and he thanked the heavens for if she was there, he could have killed himself right then and there.

Draco wasn't executed criminally but given a most grave punishment- removal of his powers completely. The last thing he remembered was waking up on his pad now.

It has been five years since he had become a human and it was harder being a human than a wizard. He had to learn all by himself how to ride different transportations, how this or that appliance works, how to do the household chores (though he often lets his women do it for him) and how to pay for the rent.

Being a human had introduced some beautiful benefits to him though. He had loved the smell of Lucky Strike and basically every brand of cigarette around. He had also hailed the concoctions of whisky, beer and the likes in his lifestyle. These served as his pastimes and leisurely works.

Until now, he has no idea why he's still renting an apartment although he knows he could buy a mansion as grand and as humongous as the Manor. Why? Because he's been peddling drugs, that's why.

He'd learned the wondrous effects and gifts of that human invention and he thanks whoever invented it for bringing it to his world. Without it, he may be dead by now.

After his "dewizardizing", he underwent a long period of depression which drugs took away. He's become an addict and a devoted smuggler of the narcotic that when he wakes up in the morning, he does some sniffing.

Why was he depressed? Well, losing Hermione was one. The outcome of his betrayal was two. And being dewizardized was three. If any man could withstand all those three, he wouldn't know if he'd still call him a man.

Still, he can't blame those who often want to take the drugs away from him. They said it was bad for his health but the only bad thing he gets from it was occasional sleepless nights and some shivers. Nothing really serious.

Until cancer came in. One hot summer day he just collapsed while walking on the street and when he woke up, he was already in some hospital. Later on, the doctor told him that he has brain cancer and it is malignant and there was no cure. In fact, he only has a year to live.

He grunted, letting the water wash his face as he pressed the wall with his palms. And I told myself that I was immortal. Guessed it proved me wrong.

He was done in a moment's time. In another few swift movements, he was all set-black shirt and pants. He looked at the mirror and sighed. "You're still looking bloody good, considering you're going to die on New Year's Eve."

The familiar flapping of wings was heard a little later when an owl dropped a rolled paper in Draco's pad.

Draco took it nonchalantly and unrolled it, knowing it was his day's subscription to the Daily Prophet (this was the only way he could know what was happening in the wizarding world). He flattened it and once again saw the moving pictures he knew would urge a lot of questions if seen by some muggle. He forgot he was a muggle himself.

The news was the same topics as yesterday, with Hermione headlining them all. Which meant it was again her picture on the front page. Yesterday, Hermione wore formal attire for some dinner with the Council and she was arm in arm with a man named Fitz Walker, who had been courting her for months now (this made Draco cut that guy's portion of the picture and throw it away). Today, she was back to her robes and beaming happily at the flashing cameras, blabbing about the importance of Wand Inspection, which was to be conducted in the next weeks.

Draco looked at the picture and can't help but smile. She still hasn't changed. The same loving, brown eyes. The same vibrant smile. The same confident hair. The same kissable lips. He missed her so much it was killing him.

What had happened to Draco was a mystery to all wizards and witches alike and he knew about it when he read the Daily Prophet the next day. They all assumed he was dead. He wanted it to stay that way even if Hermione is still left puzzled about his whereabouts. Sometimes, though, he wanted to tell Hermione where he was and all so that they could be together finally but he thought otherwise. Hermione's life was in perfect order now. He can't afford to make her lose it all again just because of him.

Well, she's effortlessly making it through without me. She'll never know I'm just here, watching her, listening to every word she says. That's the best for us. I guess, he threw the paper to the couch and left for "work".

*~*~

A/N: Thanks to those who reviewed:

Cartiliel- thanks for thinking that the whole break-up scene was heartbreaking lol… hope to see you next chap!

Paranoia-shoujo- thanks for thinking that my fic is bloody awesome!!!!

Mia- this chap will explain the story further. Sorry for confusing you.

BiTcH (a_girly_girl@msn.com)- thanks for the words of advice and all! It really "upped" my spirit.