Chapter two...when the Fire lights up..
So does that sound like a good chapter title? I hope so...let us see. I don't own HP or anything, just my little story.
After sitting to watch the bird for a moment longer, Draco returned his attention to his legs.
They were the bane of his existence. How could he just sit here with these weak and insufferable legs! He wanted to shout a lot lately.
He began to absentmindly turn on all the needed water and soap.
His thoughts returned to more pains.
With the return of the dark lord, he was in an even more precarious position.
Even with his disability, he would be asked for his loyalty soon enough. In fact, this year he would be of age. There was some dark convenant with the death eaters and their master...he knew that.
Soon Draco might be sacrificed by his parents to ensure the continuation of family honor. If not for his legs Voldemort might has already enquired after his position. He woke from these worries when warm water began to bubble onto the floor.
Forgetting his thoughts when the tub began to tip over with foam, he cursed, and with a quick flick of magic the water subsided.
Grinding his teeth with the dull twinges of weak nerves, he slowly lifted his legs and lowered himself onto the floor next to his bath.
Dipping his hand in first, he pushed his legs into the water and slid in. He went completely under and look at the world from under his blue impervious shield.
The water held him and comforted him, just like a unborn child in the womb.
Weird that he would think of that...his birth wasn't exactly normal.
His mother was sick with the prospect of giving birth. She was frail and almost anemic as it was. She was wracked with so many complications that it's no wonder he turned out like he did.
The birth was supposed to be routine, but one thing after another occured that would determine his destiny. Eventually his mother gave a last cry and he was out.
He wasn't very big, a preemie. And his small lungs took quite a long time to free of liquid.
No one was quite sure what cerebral palsy was at first. All his mother knew was that she had failed in providing a competent heir, that was enough for her to hate. She needed nothing else.
And his father sneered, he'll have to do. Though thinking that the small bundled child wasn't going to be able to complete much.
"And he was right," Draco sighed softly. Draco's vision was beginning to tunnel, it was getting lovely and warm.
She had returned pouting at what orders Paul had thrown at her.
"You did what!?!"
"I just went to check on him..."
"Did you remember you're not in the muggle world? People are more suspicious here. Birds don't normally fly everywhere they please!"
"ok ok, I give up trying to please the poor bloke. He just looked a little down."
"Good, I want you to trail him, remember he might be our only way to trace the dark lord. The only."
Walking softly under her invisibility charm, Hermione padded towards the bathroom. She lost the pout when she noticed a running bath and foam but no Draco. His wheel chair was there but...
She had come just in time, Draco was sputtering miserably. He had misjudged his capacity for staying underwater and neglected to notice he was drowning.
"stupid prat. Why do I have to rescue him all the time. Grrr!"
His head pounding, Draco looked around in a daze with a delerious look on his face.
How? Who? What? Then he wiped his face and realized who...all went black.
After going to fetch master's plates the little house elf found him nowhere. Frightened, she scurried to find him unconscious and wet on the bathroom floor.
Sitting next to his flickering fire, wrapped in tons of warm blankets, Draco sipped his tea and shuddered. He had been so unnaturally stupid this morning.
Lately it seemed the cerebral palsy was affecting his motor functions more and more. He feared he would lose the wit and intelligence that was saved when his legs were not.
Not that he was complaining. He had seen cases in the muggle hospitals where children could barely keep from drooling all over themselves.
Ha. A Malfoy in such a predicament? He wouldn't allow that. He understood family honor to that point. Even he wouldn't want his affliction to tarnish the family name.
But here he was warm and sipping tea, and he still couldn't find comfort. He was confused. What had saved him? He could only remember a blur of brown and then black.
Screwing his brow to think, he could remember a voice. An angry voice. He would think that if there was a thing such as angels they would have soothing voices. This one cursed at him...
Stupid! I can't believe it. Hermione walked back and forth the barefoot in her London flat. Bloody 'ell! She began taking on the tone she reserved for extreme situations.
After a few random curses and objects were thrown, she slowed and breathed. It couldn't be that bad. He was out cold after she got him out of the bathroom. And she had managed to throw on the cloak right before the house elf appeared.
It was a little wet, but Harry wouldn't mind, it would dry.
So what was bothering her then? Maybe it was the fact that she had commited herself to not getting emotionally involved. But...
She still remembered how close to death he looked. But his eyes. In the light of his bathroom they had looked a golden blue. Like sparks of molten gold firing up in his eyes.
He had looked at her in a way that she had never been looked at.
He had reached and touched her face with his wet hand, and she didn't mind the cold. In fact, she was annoyed when a small sound alerted her to the house elf.
She looked around her little flat. It was neat and homey. With plentiful red cushions for the fluffy arm chairs and lots of warm mahogany. Her table was a rounded rectangle perfect for having a few friends over for some wine and good times.
Not that she was a prissy tart, but she liked to keep her house decent. Though only when she had the time. Her books were usually scattered around, and her afghans tossed about.
She had only recently tidied up in a flurry of anxiousness. Why had he looked at her like that? She started up with a sponge and did some dishes. Dipping her hands in the warmth, she still felt cold.
True, it had been years since she had had a decent date. But these blokes didn't have the guts to date her. they were all after girly girls and paled at her beer drinking and potty mouth.
Ahh well, sod it, she had said many a time. But now she couldn't ignore that all her friends seemed happy enough with their dates.
Harry had even gotten to snagging a gal from Liverpool with a scholarship to study at Oxford...she was muggle, he was still trying to break it to her that he was a wizard.
And Ron with his fiance made her sick with their snogging and pet talk. The girl had even trained Ron to be admirably considerate. She was still in awe. she shook her head thinking about how he had almost asked the waiter for a duel after offending Bridget.
Not just those two,Ginny had a lovely relationship with Neville. No one suspected they would have developed into such a loving pair. It was quite curious.
her thoughts turned back to Draco. when did he get so buff anyways. She had to mentally slap herself, then sneered. He was disabled and still had Pansy and half the pureblood girls hanging off of him. He had filled out a little, even looked ok for a prat. It was all for the family name that the girls liked him though.
She shook her head and decided to finish the dishes later, her hands were already pruned and she had only done a dish or two.
She laid on the couch, picked up a book and tried to forget the day.
a/n: So what do you think? Any suggestions. constructive criticism? I shall try and live up to the rating of R a little later. I like relationships that have a little tension first.
I would like to thank Dorothy, Yami Ray and fashiondiv for their lovely reviews for the first chappie. Hope you like!! And Yami, all will be revealed...I think.
So does that sound like a good chapter title? I hope so...let us see. I don't own HP or anything, just my little story.
After sitting to watch the bird for a moment longer, Draco returned his attention to his legs.
They were the bane of his existence. How could he just sit here with these weak and insufferable legs! He wanted to shout a lot lately.
He began to absentmindly turn on all the needed water and soap.
His thoughts returned to more pains.
With the return of the dark lord, he was in an even more precarious position.
Even with his disability, he would be asked for his loyalty soon enough. In fact, this year he would be of age. There was some dark convenant with the death eaters and their master...he knew that.
Soon Draco might be sacrificed by his parents to ensure the continuation of family honor. If not for his legs Voldemort might has already enquired after his position. He woke from these worries when warm water began to bubble onto the floor.
Forgetting his thoughts when the tub began to tip over with foam, he cursed, and with a quick flick of magic the water subsided.
Grinding his teeth with the dull twinges of weak nerves, he slowly lifted his legs and lowered himself onto the floor next to his bath.
Dipping his hand in first, he pushed his legs into the water and slid in. He went completely under and look at the world from under his blue impervious shield.
The water held him and comforted him, just like a unborn child in the womb.
Weird that he would think of that...his birth wasn't exactly normal.
His mother was sick with the prospect of giving birth. She was frail and almost anemic as it was. She was wracked with so many complications that it's no wonder he turned out like he did.
The birth was supposed to be routine, but one thing after another occured that would determine his destiny. Eventually his mother gave a last cry and he was out.
He wasn't very big, a preemie. And his small lungs took quite a long time to free of liquid.
No one was quite sure what cerebral palsy was at first. All his mother knew was that she had failed in providing a competent heir, that was enough for her to hate. She needed nothing else.
And his father sneered, he'll have to do. Though thinking that the small bundled child wasn't going to be able to complete much.
"And he was right," Draco sighed softly. Draco's vision was beginning to tunnel, it was getting lovely and warm.
She had returned pouting at what orders Paul had thrown at her.
"You did what!?!"
"I just went to check on him..."
"Did you remember you're not in the muggle world? People are more suspicious here. Birds don't normally fly everywhere they please!"
"ok ok, I give up trying to please the poor bloke. He just looked a little down."
"Good, I want you to trail him, remember he might be our only way to trace the dark lord. The only."
Walking softly under her invisibility charm, Hermione padded towards the bathroom. She lost the pout when she noticed a running bath and foam but no Draco. His wheel chair was there but...
She had come just in time, Draco was sputtering miserably. He had misjudged his capacity for staying underwater and neglected to notice he was drowning.
"stupid prat. Why do I have to rescue him all the time. Grrr!"
His head pounding, Draco looked around in a daze with a delerious look on his face.
How? Who? What? Then he wiped his face and realized who...all went black.
After going to fetch master's plates the little house elf found him nowhere. Frightened, she scurried to find him unconscious and wet on the bathroom floor.
Sitting next to his flickering fire, wrapped in tons of warm blankets, Draco sipped his tea and shuddered. He had been so unnaturally stupid this morning.
Lately it seemed the cerebral palsy was affecting his motor functions more and more. He feared he would lose the wit and intelligence that was saved when his legs were not.
Not that he was complaining. He had seen cases in the muggle hospitals where children could barely keep from drooling all over themselves.
Ha. A Malfoy in such a predicament? He wouldn't allow that. He understood family honor to that point. Even he wouldn't want his affliction to tarnish the family name.
But here he was warm and sipping tea, and he still couldn't find comfort. He was confused. What had saved him? He could only remember a blur of brown and then black.
Screwing his brow to think, he could remember a voice. An angry voice. He would think that if there was a thing such as angels they would have soothing voices. This one cursed at him...
Stupid! I can't believe it. Hermione walked back and forth the barefoot in her London flat. Bloody 'ell! She began taking on the tone she reserved for extreme situations.
After a few random curses and objects were thrown, she slowed and breathed. It couldn't be that bad. He was out cold after she got him out of the bathroom. And she had managed to throw on the cloak right before the house elf appeared.
It was a little wet, but Harry wouldn't mind, it would dry.
So what was bothering her then? Maybe it was the fact that she had commited herself to not getting emotionally involved. But...
She still remembered how close to death he looked. But his eyes. In the light of his bathroom they had looked a golden blue. Like sparks of molten gold firing up in his eyes.
He had looked at her in a way that she had never been looked at.
He had reached and touched her face with his wet hand, and she didn't mind the cold. In fact, she was annoyed when a small sound alerted her to the house elf.
She looked around her little flat. It was neat and homey. With plentiful red cushions for the fluffy arm chairs and lots of warm mahogany. Her table was a rounded rectangle perfect for having a few friends over for some wine and good times.
Not that she was a prissy tart, but she liked to keep her house decent. Though only when she had the time. Her books were usually scattered around, and her afghans tossed about.
She had only recently tidied up in a flurry of anxiousness. Why had he looked at her like that? She started up with a sponge and did some dishes. Dipping her hands in the warmth, she still felt cold.
True, it had been years since she had had a decent date. But these blokes didn't have the guts to date her. they were all after girly girls and paled at her beer drinking and potty mouth.
Ahh well, sod it, she had said many a time. But now she couldn't ignore that all her friends seemed happy enough with their dates.
Harry had even gotten to snagging a gal from Liverpool with a scholarship to study at Oxford...she was muggle, he was still trying to break it to her that he was a wizard.
And Ron with his fiance made her sick with their snogging and pet talk. The girl had even trained Ron to be admirably considerate. She was still in awe. she shook her head thinking about how he had almost asked the waiter for a duel after offending Bridget.
Not just those two,Ginny had a lovely relationship with Neville. No one suspected they would have developed into such a loving pair. It was quite curious.
her thoughts turned back to Draco. when did he get so buff anyways. She had to mentally slap herself, then sneered. He was disabled and still had Pansy and half the pureblood girls hanging off of him. He had filled out a little, even looked ok for a prat. It was all for the family name that the girls liked him though.
She shook her head and decided to finish the dishes later, her hands were already pruned and she had only done a dish or two.
She laid on the couch, picked up a book and tried to forget the day.
a/n: So what do you think? Any suggestions. constructive criticism? I shall try and live up to the rating of R a little later. I like relationships that have a little tension first.
I would like to thank Dorothy, Yami Ray and fashiondiv for their lovely reviews for the first chappie. Hope you like!! And Yami, all will be revealed...I think.