.Posted: Nov. 11, 2004

Chapter Six: The Fire: Ignited

It had been several weeks since Fred's departure. He had sent Angelina an owl to tell her he was doing well, but he didn't want her to reply, in case the owl could be tracked back to him and the rest of his family.

Knock, knock, knock

Angelina stood outside a loft apartment door, thinking maybe this had been a bad idea. She put her hand on her stomach. That feeling was back; that feeling that told her, this was wrong. She then moved her hand over her chest and took a deep breath hoping it would slow her increasing heartbeat down. She was more anxious than she would have liked. "What am I doing here?" she thought out loud, thinking if she left now. . . but, too late, the door swung open.

"Didn't think you would come." Montague smiled as he opened the door fully to allow Angelina in.

"Look." It was time for Angelina to put on that tough façade, "I just need to know what you have on my husband, then I'm gone." She thought that maybe the information Montague had on Draco could somehow help her bring Fred back safely to England.

"Uh-huh." He closed the door and locked it. "Sure."

"I'm willing to pay."

"With your husband's money?" Montague laughed as he walked passed her and took a seat on his couch. "I don't need money," he told her. "Now, why don't you come and sit down, Johnson?"

"No, thank you." She shook her head as she crossed her arms and looked nervously around the spacious loft. It was painted in a shade of blue, a color she didn't think suited him well at all. "I don't plan on staying long."

"Are you afraid of me, Johnson?"

"What?" Her eyes quickly lay upon him. "No."

Montague sighed heavily. "Alright then, if not, then how long are we going to do this?" He looked dangerously at her. "Because frankly, it tires me."

"I don't know what you're talking about." She looked over at the door.

"That's what I mean." He stood up and pointed at her. "Right there. How long are you going to run in the opposite direction? How long are you going to deny this thing between us?"

Angelina's eyes widened for a moment before returning to their original size. "Thing? No. There has never been a thing."

"Really?" He quickly walked over to her and forced her up against the hard wall. He then placed his hands on either side of her, trapping her where she stood. "Then look me in the eye and tell me you've never wanted me." His face was inches from hers.

In a slight panic, Angelina stated. "I'm a married woman, Montague."

"Yes, a married woman who's trying to get information to use on her husband." He then said sarcastically, "Oh yeah, that's real love."

"Get off me, now," she said softly, putting her hands on his chest and trying to push him away.

But he would not be budged. "Not till you say it. Say you don't want me. I dare you."

"Monta-"

"Say it!" he demanded.

"I don't want you!" Angelina hissed through clenched teeth. Montague studied her for a moment before slowly starting to back away. "Shit!" Angelina yelled softly, knowing she would regret what she was about to do. She grabbed a hold of Montague's sweater and pulled him into a long, overdue, kiss.

When they broke it, Montague had a small grin on his face. "You know, you almost had me convinced there for a second."

"I know." She found herself smiling too, liberated by the moment, before Montague took her lips with his own. It was a kiss filled with a raw passion that had been building up within him since their first insults towards each other.

Montague, resting his hands on her hips, pulling away from her, took a breath as if breathing for the first time. "So, how you want to play this?"

Angelina rubbed Montague's arms up and down. Do I really want to do this? She thought of many reasons of why she shouldn't, but the moment she looked into Montague's dark eyes, all reason went out the window. Angelina then gave Montague a seductive smile and that was all of a reply he needed.

Montague slowly lowered himself closer to the floor and rose back up taking one Angelina's legs with him. "A little help maybe?" he asked her. Angelina wrapped her arms around Montague's neck; she then jumped up enough for him to catch her other leg and for her to cross her ankles behind him.

He then carried her up to his bedroom, planting little wet kisses on her as he did. They entered the bedroom and he kicked the door close behind them. He then unceremoniously dropped her onto his neatly made bed.

Angelina sat up and pulled Montague, by his belt, closer to her and began to unfasten it. As she did, Montague kicked off his shoes and pulled his sweater vest over his head. "Easy down there, Johnson," he told her when she gave a hard tug at his belt.

"Shut up and take it like a man, David," she said, while still on the bed, getting to her knees. She then started undoing the buttons on his shirt.

He stopped her by putting a hand on top of hers. "Not a lot of people know my first name. How'd you figure it out?" She only shrugged before he let her continue. When she was done he pushed her, a little annoyed she didn't answer his question, and she fell back onto the bed. Montague finished taking off his shirt, and Angelina glimpsed at the Dark Mark on his left forearm as he joined her on the bed. "What is it, Johnson?" he asked her when a look of worry flashed in her eyes.

"This is wrong," she told him, as she looked at him on top of her.

"You've got to be kidding me," he whispered to himself. "You've changed your mind." He dropped his head in disbelief as he started to get off her.

"Something like that." Catching him off guard she shoved him onto his back and straddled him. "That's more like it."

Montague's shoulders shook as he laughed. "Do you always have to be in control?"

"No, but it's preferred," she said, as she trailed his chest with her fingers. He flinched when she came to a healed puncher wound under his right breast. "How you get this?"

His eyes traveled from her hand up to her eyes. "You. Second year. Remember?" he explained, as he reached up and pulled out the hair tie that held Angelina's hair in a pony-tail. "It was the first game of the year. You knocked me off my broom in the first half-hour of the game. I hit one of the support beams on the way down and my broom splintered and part of it went into my chest. I was fine after seeing Madam Pomfrey. Though she did tell me, any further to the left and it would have pierced my heart." His hand came up and stroked her face. "Ironic really."

"I'm sorry," she said sincerely, breaking eye contact for a moment. "But you got me back pretty well, even if I do say so myself." She smiled as she took off her shirt and got off him to show him the scar of her back. She pulled her hair, done in microbraids, to one side so he could get a better look at it. Montague sat up and traced the scar with his finger from the left side of her neck, down her back, to the right side of her hip. "To this day, I still don't know what I hit, because all I remember is you coming up from behind me, yanking me off of my broom by my pony-tail, falling, and then everything going black."

Montague kissed Angelina's shoulder as he slid her bra strap off of it. "What can I say?" he began. "We have rough foreplay." He heard Angelina giggle before she turned back around and pushed him back down onto the bed.

OoOoO

Montague woke up with Angelina laying in his arms, just like many other countless nights. It had been two years since they had started their affair and the world had slowly become a different place under the hand of Voldemort. There had been many uprisings and so-called revolutions to take down the Dark Lord and his army, but so far all had failed. Much blood had been spilled in the last two years, and much more, without a doubt, would be spilled in the future.

Montague idly played with the hair of his sleeping lover. Being with her was everything he thought it would be. It was erratic, tantalizing, and full of a fire only she could ignite within him. He loved her; he realized that not to long ago, though he had never voiced it out loud. He didn't want to scare her away like he did before, when they were back in school.

It was their sixth year and he had bumped into her on his way back to his common room. They threw a few insults before he subtly came onto her, thinking maybe he had been a little too subtle because she didn't seem to react to it. But he knew he must of had some kind of effect, because within a few days time, she had starting dating that Weasley boy, and had started avoiding him in the corridors, sometimes going all away around, so she wouldn't have to face him.

"David?" Angelina whispered into the night air. "What's wrong?" she asked when she realized he was watching her sleep.

"Nothing," he lied, as he pulled away from her and sat up. He had concluded that something in his life had to change. When he first got caught up in this war, he sided with Voldemort because he thought it was the most logical choice. But he was so young and so foolish then, he didn't realize how killing innocence people, who were only trying to win back their freedom, would affect him so much. He figured that somehow being with Angelina for so long had given him something he didn't need nor want living in this kind of world, a conscience. "Do you love me, Angelina?" he asked in a hushed voice, readying himself for her response.

If Angelina wasn't awake before, she was now. She and Montague had never discussed their feelings with each other. As far as Angelina knew, their relationship was based on nothing but sex, a strange desire that only the other could fulfill. "I don't know," she said honestly.

He turned to her. "I think you do. I think you love me," he told her. "Angelina, I need to get away for here. . . and I want you to come with me."

"David," she said tenderly as she sat up. "No. I won't leave England. I won't leave Draco." She would not have his death on her hands.

"Why?" he asked, not knowing that their marriage had been arranged. "You don't love him."

"It's complicated."

"Complicated? Okay then, let's make things simple. Give me a little time, I can set something up. It'll look like a complete accident. You can play the grieving widow and tell people you can no longer be in a place filled with so many memories."

"No!" She was mortified at the thought. She got out of bed and had the lights turned on. "I could never allow you to do anything like that to Draco." She searched for her clothes and started to get dressed.

"Where are you going?"

"I'm going home, until you get those ridiculous ideas out of your head. You can't take down a Malfoy, not when they have fully gotten back into the Dark Lord's good graces. For crying out loud, he's practically made Draco some kind of General." She took a deep breath. "I like being with you, David, but even if I hated Draco with a passion, I could not have him killed off. Don't you know they would figure out what happened and they would hunt us down like they do of those who have gone against him?" She went back to finding her clothes.

Montague watched as she dressed in a frightful hurry. "What's Malfoy got on you?" Angelina only looked at him as she put her hair back into a pony-tail. "Answer me, Johnson."

"Goodnight, Montague," she said, before he watched her walk out the bedroom door.

OoOoO

The morning was peeking through the windows as Angelina arrived home. With the wards down she was simply able to Apparate into her and Draco's bedroom. "You're home early," Draco commented as Angelina climbed into bed.

"Not in the mood, Draco."

"Aw, what's wrong? You and lover boy have a fight?" His voice sounded absolutely amused at the thought. He didn't know whom she was sleeping with and he didn't care, just as long as no one else knew he existed. Besides Draco was having his own affairs and he saw no need for him and Angelina to share whom they were spending their time with when they weren't with each other.

"Sod off and let me sleep," Angelina told him, as she pulled the blanket over her head.

"Fine," he began. "I have things to do today anyway." He got out of bed and got ready for the day.

Angelina stayed tucked away under her blanket until an eerie silence fell into the room. Draco usually made more noise then this in the morning. She pushed down her blanket and saw Draco leaning on the vanity dresser staring at himself. "Thought I was the only one who did that when I was upset?"

He forced a smile. "I'm not upset. I'm just thinking."

"Can I ask about what?" she queried.

"You don't have to pretend to be the concerned wife today, Tulip," he told her, as he turned around and leaned on the dresser.

Angelina sat up. "I'm not pretending. You've been acting kind of strange lately."

"I know." He nodded his head. "It's business, and I probably shouldn't be talking to you about it." He paused. They had been together for almost three years; she had been a good companion, annoying at times, but still a good companion. She had never given him a reason not to trust her. This was an odd feeling for Draco, because he had never fully trusted anymore in his life. "I've been given orders to go after a found traitor today," he began. "And it's someone I know, someone I thought had my- the Dark Lord's best interest in mind."

"He was a friend, wasn't he?" she asked.

He nodded his head solemnly. "I didn't even realize I considered him one before." He pushed himself off the dresser so he could finish getting dressed. "Dammit! Where are my shoes!" he yelled, but Angelina knew his outburst had nothing to do with his shoes.

To Be Continued. . .

Preview Of The Next Chapter:

For some reason, unbeknown to Draco, his breath got stuck in his throat and his chest felt constricted. Something Draco had never felt before surged through his body. "Tulip?" He finally let out a whisper.

A/N: David pronounced "da-veed".