A/N: Tank ya, Emily! Mucho thanks! I thought it was a sick twist of plot thoughts, but my sister gave me the idea. Annnd, I'm going to be gone for a week, so this is the last chapter for a week. It's rather short because I had inspiration at 12:30 and just typed until 1. So here you are!
Warnings: I'm going to start putting these on every chapter and rating each chapter. Chapter ratings will be in bold. This chapter is going to contain….Language, hints at child abuse, mental, physical, and emotional.
Disclaimer: With the exception of my own charries and ideals, the general Ideal for HP belongs to the wonderful woman named JK Rowling.
Chapter Four: Dreams and Burns
He had fallen asleep beside the fire, once again. Brandy snifter had rolled beneath the couch on the other side of the room; blonde hair was tousled from sleep. Once again, he caught up in the insanity called Dreams. One he had seen often before. Too often for his pleasure, but he could not pull himself from the pulling, dragging dream….
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Laughter flitted up to his ears as he stood at the top of the Grand Staircase of Hogwarts. Lunch had just let out and students were pouring from the Great Hall. As Head Boy, he had hall monitoring duty this afternoon, not a particularly enjoyable job, but it got him out of that shared common room with Granger and into the flow of students.
As he stood there, a flash of auburn caught Draco's attention and he turned quickly, grinning as he saw the door to an empty classroom close. He knew who it was… Now to get away; easier said than done at this school. Then again…Draco grinned and hurried from his post to the door, knocking once then slipping inside. Immediately, he was pulled into a hug, he could feel her lips pressed to his neck, her hands were fisted in the back of his school robes.
"Easy, Blaze, we have a while yet until the bell for class rings." He spoke against her hair, his own hands snaking around the small waist to pull the girl closer. Draco could feel her tremble slightly at the contact and her grip on him eased a little. He smiled and pulled away slightly to stare down into endless cornflower blue eyes. Eyes he knew would glaze over with passion if he grazed his lips against her jaw; eyes he knew would darken to a deep blue when she was angry with him; and eyes that could go violet when she was happy.
"I hate sneaking, Draco. You know I do." She said softly as she lifted her small hand and traced the outline of his lips with one slim finger.
He shifted his head to kiss her finger before nipping lightly at it. "You have to tell Harry soon, Blaze." He murmured against her finger, keeping his eyes on hers.
She nodded, auburn curls bouncing. "I know. Tomorrow, I promise." She paused for a moment and stared up at him. "Do you know when your next meeting is?" she questioned softly.
"Dammit, Ginny!" He yanked away and moved across the room. He hated when she brought that up. "I don't know when the next meeting is! You know that! He just…" by now, Draco was struggling to keep his voice calm, trying to keep quiet.
She winced and nodded, moving slowly after him. "I'm sorry. You're right. I had no right…" before she could continue, Draco caught her by the back of the head and brought his mouth down hard on hers.
He felt her arms wind themselves around his neck, her body go soft and pliant. He heard the moan that emanated from the back of her throat. As he lifted his head, Ginny gave a soft mewl and opened her eyes. His eyes moved to her hair, his fingers combed through the locks. "Fire and gold." He whispered softly before smiling a little and kissing her forehead. "Fire and gold…"
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Draco awoke with those words on his lips. Awoke sharply to someone shaking him and calling his name; the voice was irritated, yet worried.
"Draco! Dammit, Drake, open your damned eyes and look at me. Have you been drinking that Muggle shit again?" the voice was pure Blaise Zabini. And the Voice was pissing Draco off.
"Shove off you lump of dragon dung." He muttered, throwing an arm over his stinging eyes. Gods… His head was throbbing, his body ached. Harry had warned him about drinking too much of the Muggle alcohol. He didn't care. He wanted Ginny. He wanted their baby.
"You floundering idiot!" Blaise exclaimed, grabbing his friend by the lapels and hauling him from the chair. "You're bloody blasted, you are! Don't know why you drink that shit anyways. Fire Whiskey is the only way to go. Russian Vodka works pretty well too." Blaise thought a moment before shaking his dark head and pulling his life long friend to the door and up the stairs.
They'd been friends for years, since birth really. Their fathers, Lucius Malfoy and Enrico Zabini, had insisted that the two infants be introduced, both barely four hours from the womb. The same birthdays were not the only things that brought the boys closer. Over time, at young ages, both had noticed how controlling and demanding their older counterparts were. Lucius was physically and mentally abusive; while Enrico was emotionally and mentally abusive. In times of need, Draco and Blaise had leaned against each other, using the others strength as their own. Together, both had overcome the hardships of adolescence, and rejoiced as their fathers were taken down during the summer following their fifth years.
Blaise was the first person Draco went to when he discovered just how deep his feelings for Ginerva, a.k.a Ginny Weasley went. And in return, Draco was the first person Blaise went to when he discovered he was infatuated with Padma Patil. Both had worked through the situations. Both had fallen for girls outside of their own houses at the same time, both had defied their elders. Both had done everything for the women they loved. Both had lost them shortly before leaving school. But Blaise had a reminder of the woman he loved; whereas Draco had nothing.
As the men started up the stairs unsteadily, Draco laid his head on Blaise's shoulder and sighed quietly staring blankly at their feet as they walked before lifting his head and frowning up at the dark-hair man who was supporting him. "I had that dream again, 'Laise." Draco said softly, frowning.
"The one where she asked you about the last meeting?" Blaise asked just as softly, not looking at his friend.
Draco nodded. "Yeah. That's the one." He muttered, laying his head back down. "'Laise?"
"Hmn?" the off handed sound sounded slightly agitated.
"Before I fell asleep last night, I went through Lucius' book collection. There's one missing. The Wizard's Guide to the Dark Arts."
Blaise didn't say anything for a few moments but, once they'd reached the bathroom door, he looked at Draco and frowned. "You checked everywhere?" at his friend's nod, his frown deepened.
"It's been gone a while. There's dust in the slot where it used to be."
"Interesting…" Blaise said quietly, shifting Draco carefully then reaching into the shower and turning it on. "Think you can do this by yourself, you indolent crack?" he asked teasingly, releasing Draco's shoulders. "I have to pick Gareth up from Pansy's. I'll bring him back around in a few minutes, got it under control?" With another nod, Blaise smiled faintly, touched Draco's shoulder lightly then Disapparated.
Draco dragged off his robes and the cloths he'd pulled on to go to that damned meeting. As he stepped under the hot spray of the shower, Draco groaned, closed his eyes and leaned against the shower wall. That woman. Granger. She was going to be the death of him. It was that or he was going to strangle her for talking so incessantly. Either way, one of them was going to be happy; Or miserable and in Azkaban. That got him to snort back laughter as he tilted his head back, letting the water hit him squarely in the face. As the water hit, something in his arm burned. It lasted only a moment, so Draco figured it was just a muscle spasm. Five minutes into the shower, it did it again, stronger this time. More insistent. Draco winced and looked down at his right arm and paled. It was back. Faintly, but the damned burnt image was there.
Stumbling from the shower, he rushed over to the mirror, swiped at it with a towel and shifted so he could look at his arm. "Oh Merlin… No." He'd been given the mark his sixth year. He'd taken it like a man and hadn't so much as whimpered. Later, after the brutal beating the other Deatheaters had subjected him to, after the promise of that was only the beginning if he ever betrayed them, he had collapsed into Ginny's welcoming arms. In the beginning she was wary of him, she was careful about what she said around him. Soon though, she relaxed and let him in, she began trusting him fully again, and that had been the greatest gift he'd ever received.
In the end, he did, and, in the end, the Mark, that horrible stain of Skull and Snake had gone away. Now it was back. But Voldemort was fallen. What was it? Was Blaise feeling it? Who was it? Were any of the others seeing what he was? Pansy? Millie? Crabbe? Oh Gods, he had to get in touch with Hermione again. And fast.
