A/N: Well, I must apologize for once again taking so long to update this fic. I had *terrible* writer's block. But enough babbling, for now, read the chapter (there's more at the end)
My Fire, My Love: Part Eleven
Draco Malfoy hardly touched his breakfast Friday morning. His icy demeanor was perfect, and he sent off such a strong negative aura that in their haste to leave him alone, nobody noticed that he was paler then usual. He left the table early, while his classmates weren't even halfway through. He slipped through an archway and started toward the Slytherin dorms.
From the shadows a hand reached out and slammed Draco against the wall. He hissed in pain and found himself under the not-so-friendly gaze of Ron Weasley. "I'm going to rip you apart, you snake," he snarled.
"Hands off, Weasley," Draco said shoving the taller boy off of him. "If this is what I think it's about, perhaps you'd like an explanation before you kill me?" he drawled, watching as Ron clenched his fists.
"You better hope it's a damn good explanation."
Draco smiled faintly and straightened his robes. "I can assure you, it is, and I think for once you'll even agree with me."
Ron snorted, showing his opinion of that. "You have two minutes to explain why Harry won't speak a word to anyone, why he cried himself to sleep last night, why he won't eat anything!"
Draco closed his eyes, and for a moment a terrible sadness seemed to wash over him. Ron, sensing this, almost reached out in sympathy, but icy eyes snapped open and he was back to being Malfoy: Slytherin Scum.
"Harry and I are no longer together."
"Why?"
"It was necessary."
"It was *necessary*?!" Ron repeated. "That is *not* a good explanation, Malfoy."
"Yes, necessary, Weasley," Draco said, cold rage blazing in his eyes. "You all of people should understand that. But I suppose I underestimated your intelligence. I am a Malfoy," he enunciated carefully, to the infuriation of Ron. "Harry is... The Boy Who Lived. It's simply not meant to be." When he saw Ron's mouth open, he added hurriedly, "I mean, it's not safe. My father knows, and he would use me to get to Harry. I can't let that happen."
Ron stepped back, studying him, searching for deception but finding none. He nodded, and something in Malfoy seemed to break. He slumped against the wall. "He's not eating, you said?" he mumbled. Ron shook his head, and started to walk away. "Weasley-" Ron turned around. "Take care of him, will you?" he said, pain stretching his voice.
"I always do," Ron promised, and left.
**************
A pressure bomb had gone off inside of him and all the hurt was packed tight in his chest, quietly humming under his skin. He ignored the world and simply focused on keeping everything numb, which consumed all his will and wasn't really working. His steps took him to the hall leading to Dumbledore's meeting room, and he stared dully at the door, struggling with his pain and anger. He heard something behind him, and turned round reflexively- and froze. Something inside of him exploded, the anger surging through him, and he trembled as he and Draco stared at one another. His blood was making too much noise, and the moment stretched, and then Draco turned and brushed past him into the room. Harry tried to remember how to breathe. A few seconds later he followed Draco into the conference room.
**************
Draco stepped into the room and tried to remember how to breathe. The guilt was weighing him down, but he knew it was definitely *not* the right time to fall apart- even though Harry looked so goddamn heartbroken and gorgeous- *not* the time. Not when his father was watching his every move.
Lucius Malfoy was seated at one end of the table, and Draco took the seat to the right of him. Across from him, Pansy eyed him coldly, and next to her Pansy's mother sat straight in her chair, a disapproving look on her face.
Harry walked in, grudgingly taking the only chair left, (which happened to be between Draco and Professor Dumbledore, who was seated at the head of the table) and Draco knew he wouldn't have any trouble with believably. His boy- exboyfriend simply radiated hurt and betrayal. No, it wouldn't be hard to convince his father that they were no longer dating. Inwardly smiling at the small victory, he greeted his father with a nod. Lucius' charcoal eyes flashed to his son's softer gray ones- rain clouds, Harry always called them, thought Draco, and flinched.
The headmaster smiled, and if was at all possible to smile at a group of people and mean the smile towards some and not others *cough*LuciusMalfoy*cough*, well, Albus Dumbledore was a master. "Ms. Parkinson, you have been charged with a very serious crime-" he began, but at a sharp glance from Mrs. Parkinson, Lucius smoothly interrupted.
"I'm afraid you don't know the whole story, Headmaster. Perhaps if the girl related *her* version, certain misunderstandings might be cleared up."
Professor Dumbledore looked slightly disgruntled, but then he nodded. "Very well."
Pansy looked like this was way beyond her capabilities, but after one scowl from her mother she started right in. "It was just supposed to be a joke, really," she said earnestly. "I had no idea the potion would be so terribly lethal! I would *never* do something so awful! I swear, it was just a silly trick. You must forgive me, P- Harry," she finished, sincerity fairly shimmering from her eyes.
"There, you see? Surely you must agree it was a prank- a stupid one nonetheless, but simply a joke." Sally Parkinson interjected.
"Bloody expensive joke to cure," Draco muttered under his breath, and Lucius' eyes darted sharply to his son and away again.
"I'm so sorry Harry, please say you forgive me?" Pansy pressed.
Harry stared blankly at the table and did not answer. When Pansy saw this, she burst into blubbery tears and had to be escorted out of the room, her mother patting her back stiffly.
Lucius smiled indulgently. "Obviously Pansy deeply regrets her actions. I believe she should be given the benefit of the doubt, yes?"
Dumbledore nodded slowly. "On probation, perhaps, with some restrictions," he suggested.
"Of course," Lucius said, beginning to rise.
"And I shall speak with Severus and ask him to keep a closer eye on his potions ingredients," the headmaster added, to himself. "You two may go back to class," he told Harry and Draco.
"Ah, if I may, I'd like to speak to Draco?"
Dumbledore nodded and guided Harry out, closing the door behind them.
Once there were alone, Lucius wasted no time. He rested a hand lightly on his son's shoulder. "Draco, you're mother's been very ill. She'd like you to come home for a few days."
Draco fought to hide a grin. Mum was sick. Right. He cleared his throat and tried to look concerned. "Let's go, then."
Lucius looked surprised. "Don't you have someone you'll want to inform about your absence?" he asked, nodding at Harry's now empty chair. "Especially since, I assume, it was you who paid for Mr. Potter's *expensive* cure?" he drawled.
Draco flushed. "Harry and I aren't seeing each other anymore. Unfortunately, he's terribly upset with me," he said rather satisfactorily.
"Really." Lucius looked a little irritated by this news, and Draco knew he was in for it once they got home. "Well, regardless, you're still coming home."
"Oh, of course," Draco agreed cynically. "What with Mum being sick and all." While Lucius informed the headmaster of Draco's departure, Draco left to gather his things.
**************
A little ways down the corridor Draco could see Harry's retreating back. He paused, fighting off pangs of regret, and waited for Harry to leave. But Harry seemed to sense something and froze, then turned around and looked back up the hallway. Draco forced himself to resume his journey, watching his feet until another pair of shoes came into his view. He marveled at the difference, his were classy polished dress shoes while Harry was wearing old sneakers. He looked up to see that Harry, too, was studying their collective feet, and he wondered if he sensed the metaphor?- no, he was crying, tears dripping down his face and falling to the floor.
Mustn't have a moment of weakness, his brain told his heart, but his heart thought differently and completely disregarded the command and without knowing how, he had suddenly caught the smaller boy in his arms. Harry let out a ragged moan and collapsed into him, his head buried in the warmth of Draco's neck. Oh God, love you so much can't let them get you... He shoved Harry roughly away.
"No, I can't, please Harry, *understand*. It's over. Leave."
"I can't believe you're doing this," Harry said, his voice oddly flat.
"I have to. I'll destroy you otherwise. Just go on, Harry. I didn't deserve you anyway. You know this shouldn't have happened, it was an accident of fate, and I'm mending it. Find someone who will make you happy." Because I never did, I never brought you anything but lies and pain. "I have to go."
"Where are you going?" he said, panicking slightly.
Draco grinned bitterly. "Home of course. I told you, didn't I? My father's here to collect me and cloister me away to learn all of your weaknesses. Should be fun. But you needn't worry, I won't betray you anymore than I already have." He turned to leave.
Harry yanked him back by his sleeve. "Wait! You told me that you loved me! You're willing to give that up?" He demanded, anguish in his voice.
"To save you? Of course." He pulled his sleeve from Harry's grasp and began walking away.
"I don't need you to save me, I'm perfectly capable of taking care of myself!" Harry shouted angrily at his back.
Draco just laughed.
**************
Professor Snape was browsing over his notes, looking for a potion to make for his next class- preferably something harmless as these particular third year Hufflepuffs had more fluff between their ears than usual. His concentration was broken by the sound of soft, steady steps approaching his desk. Ready to snap at whatever student had disturbed him, Snape raised his head and instinctively rose to his feet.
"Headmaster," he greeted in faint surprise. "What brings you here?"
"Only to ask you to please keep a closer eye on your ingredients, Severus, as we do not want a repeat of the Echantyola debacle."
"No, indeed, Headmaster. I shall put a more complicated spell on the closet where I keep the ingredients, one which cannot be broken by students. Please forgive me for my carelessness thus far."
"Accepted, Severus, and thank you."
"Ah, Headmaster-?" Snape queried.
"Yes?"
"So, it's true then, that Parkinson poisoned Potter, and Malfoy paid for the cure?"
"Quite true, Severus. It seems that Mr. Malfoy has had a change of character lately, due perhaps to his increased time spent in the company of Mr. Potter."
Snape's eyes widened. Well, *that* was interesting. Lucius was going to kill his son.
Dumbledore gazed introspectively at the ceiling. "I sincerely hope not, Severus," he said, leaving the potions master trying to remember if he had actually spoken out loud.
**************
Harry wasted no time once Draco and his father had left Hogwarts. He sprinted upstairs to his dorm, grabbed his broom and his wand. Once he had realized that Draco wasn't speaking lightly when he said his father was going to interrogate him, Harry knew something had to be done. He debated flying through the corridors but decided that would attract even more attention. He knew Draco would be suffering on his behalf and the only option in Harry's mind was to find him and take him away, even if-- and this was the part Harry didn't want to think about- *even if* Draco didn't want to be with him afterwards. He couldn't stand the thought of his beloved being harmed because of him.
He paused on the field near Hagrid's hut, breathless from his run through the huge castle, and slammed his broom on the ground in frustration. Only one problem: he didn't know where Malfoy Manor was. The sudden hopelessness of the situation crashed down upon him and he nearly roared in anger. *Why* were the people he loved always threatened? *Why* did he have to be famous?! If it weren't for him, his friends would have a lot less grief in their lives... Cedric Diggory would still be alive, Sirius would be able to move somewhere far away and not have to worry about his godson being killed and fear being captured again, and he wouldn't have to worry about dating anybody who might be the son or daughter of one of Voldemort's followers.
He shook his head. Feeling sorry for himself wasn't doing anyone any good. Now, how was he going to find out where Malfoy Manor was? Who would know? Pansy would, thought Harry, and immediately rejected the idea. He hardly wanted to talk to her. Had anyone else, besides Crabbe and Goyle, ever been there? Harry suddenly remembered a particular someone who was very willing to help him out. He grabbed his broom and sped off through the castle, towards the kitchens.
**************
Draco and his father were silent during their journey home. Draco knew he should be preparing himself for the inevitable interrogation, but his mind was curiously blank. Now and then such thoughts as I hope Harry's all right, and Finnigan better leave him alone! wandered through his head, but that was about it.
They walked into the huge, echoing hall of Malfoy Manor, and Draco sighed. The only thing he liked about his house, as he had once told Harry, was his room. It faced east, so the sun always shifted onto his bed in the morning, warming him up. A sudden yearning came over him and he wanted to make a quick escape up the stairs and behind the door, into his sunny sanctuary.
His mother was sitting at her writing desk in the study, partially visible through the open doors. When she saw him, a pleasant smile crossed her features.
"Draco!"
"Mum!" he said, walking over to greet her. "But I thought you were ill?" he asked, once they had embraced.
She shook her head puzzledly. "No dear, I'm fi-" and then she stopped midsentence after receiving a sharp look from her husband.
Lucius strode over to his wife and kissed her cheek, then whispered something to her. She nodded, and left, shutting the double doors behind her. Draco watched all of this with increasing sullenness.
Lucius watched him with hard, depthless eyes. "I'm afraid I told a bit of a lie, Draco. You see, I needed you to come home and this was the easiest-fastest- method."
Draco didn't respond. He was just waiting for the shit to hit the fan.
"It has come to my attention that you are dating Harry Potter."
Well, thought Draco. That didn't take long. "Was. I *was* seeing Harry. Past tense. I told you." If he's not going to mince words, why should I?
"Why?"
Draco shrugged. "That's really none of your business."
"Fine, I don't care. But when you go back to school, you will do everything possible, from the charismatic to the obscene, including groveling, to date him again. And I *know* you are capable of it."
Draco gritted his teeth and decided to play dumb. "Why? What if I don't want to?"
Lucius gripped his shoulders and pressed on them, hard. "You know perfectly well why. Potter is the key to winning this war. Surely you did not think I would let an opportunity like this pass by? The Dark Lord wants him destroyed, and you will lure him to his end."
Draco felt inwardly sick with indignation. "I most certainly will not!" he said.
"You cheeky little snot, how dare you disobey me? You *will* go back to school, and I don't care if you have to rape the pest, but you *will* get back together with him." Lucius said deliberately.
"Absolutely not!" Draco declared, eyes blazing.
"I will disinherit you," Lucius warned.
Draco made a face. "I won't."
Lucius studied Draco searching his face intensively, and Draco met him eye-to-eye. Then, to Draco's horror, comprehension dawned on Lucius' face. I hate you, he thought.
"No, but this can not be. Surely you don't... you love Potter?" Lucius whispered.
"No!" Draco cried, squirming to get out of his grip. Lucius flung him back against the wall. "No, Father!"
His father continued, ignoring his vehement denials. "You will remain here until you agree to my wishes."
**************
It took a while to finally persuade Dobby to tell him ("But *why* does Harry Potter want to know where Dobby's old, wicked master lives?" to which Harry had responded exasperatedly, "Because I'm in love with his son!"), but after warning Harry that "the little Malfoy" was no better than his father, the house elf gave up the information and Harry was in the air, headed southwest. The sun was beginning to set in front of him, turning the sky a rich orange. It would take a while for him to get there, and he'd be flying all night, and he *still* didn't know what he was going to do when he got there, but for now, to be on his way was enough.
**************
Well, here it is. I've already started writing the next chapter, so hopefully there won't be such a long delay this time. Also, after MFML is done, look for the prequel to it, tentatively titled "Lighting the Fire". I'm still not sure if it's gonna be a one-shot or if I'll just attach it to the end of MFML. And of course, I will finally be starting on "Finding Trouble and Truth"
In other news, I've been accepted to my college so there shouldn't be copious amounts of stress in my life anytime soon, which will hopefully be conducive to more writing. And of course...
Thanks to: Silvertongue, Willowstar (you're right, I'm not fair ^_~), Rings of Saturn, Jubilee (here's the conference! hope you enjoyed!), Lanie, Minerva-Severus-Dumbledor, ljp, MiniMe (the plot does indeed thicken *cheesy drama music* ^_^), TheUnknownJedi, Wyvern's Elucidated Brethren (don't hit me with a shoe! _), angel, tidus2529 (*winces* sorry this one took so long, too...), TigerBlak (unfortunately it is another 6 months since I updated... sorry), Grath Longflech, Helga of Wurm (hi! you were one of my first reviewers! *waves* you're cool!), Tsuyuno, Meemo, lollipozz (no cliffs, please!), Katy (thank you! *beams*) and alyssa
That's all for now, except for you to press that little button down there, the one that says, "Go!" ^___^
~RainShadow
ps. *cough* GO!