Through the Valley Chapter 2: World's on Fire, a harry potter fanfic

Author's Note: Wow, the response has been fantastic, I'm happy that so many people are enjoying this and it was only the first chapter! Thanks to all who have taken the time to review, comments are greatly appreciated.

Summary: The war is over and forbidden love is tested. . . HGDM. Can be read alone or as a sequel to Glad Day.

Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter. Anything you recognise belongs to the fabulous JK Rowling, though it pains me to admit it.

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o 0 o Through the Valley o 0 o

By FicklePen.

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Chapter Two:
World's On Fire.

Her heart ached.

It was odd, not even physically possible, but for some strange reason her heart ached terribly. Perhaps that was the consequence of loving a man she hated with every fibre of her body.

Love. . . is a lie.

It isn't like the storybooks. There's no epiphany, no fireworks of declaration, no flutterings. No 'happily-ever-after'. It's nothing like that. It isn't a fairytale, where a Princess finds her Prince Charming. . . unless you count your Prince Charming having his hands stained with the blood of innocent lives.

It crept up on them so slowly, so inconspicuously, that before she knew it she was in far too deep to ever climb her way out.

He was different now. And that's why she loved him; because of his capacity to change the way he thought, to change his beliefs.

God of Gods, she loved him as much as she hated him. And that was the problem, right there; written in big bold letters on her forehead, etched into her heart.

That hate was poisoning her from the inside, so she needed to get away. She needed to exorcise that vile emotion; it left such a bitter taste in her mouth, even when he touched her, caressed her like she was the most important, fragile doll. Like she was made of glass. The hate was always there, tainting everything between them.

She couldn't live with that stain. That burden.

She just couldn't.

o 0 o

. . . Two Years Later. . .

The bustling, buzzing sound of people reminded him bees. Busy, busy bees, excited at the thought of gathering pollen for their hive. Or in this case, gathering mouth-watering books - priceless texts and unpublished works that had somehow found their way here.

Sighing with annoyance, he brushed away the silken strands of silver-blond hair that fell precariously into his steel grey eyes.

He looked around blankly at the multitude of witches and wizards milling around the magical antique bookshop, tucked away in a prestigious part of Diagon Alley. He was surprised, to say the least, to find that the large store had been completely renovated and redecorated. Gone were the hideous colours of canary yellow and vulgar fuchsia. It their place, deep crimson, warm cream and molten gold was the pallet of choice. And it had quite an effect on the warmth of the shop, which had previously been harsh and indifferent.

Everything was neat and orderly.

Comfortable seats surrounded low oak tables, placed in certain dimly-lit corners to afford the effect of intimacy. The smell of hot chocolate and coffee permeated the air from an alcove to the right at the back of the shop, the sound of clinking china reaching his ears.

Eyes slightly widened, he looked at the walls and aisles that were lined with a countless number of glass-covered shelves that reached the high ceiling, housing remarkable titles that certainly wouldn't be found in Flourish and Blotts. There was even a shelf for acclaimed Muggle authors. . . No, he wouldn't go down that path. Deliberately moving away he sought out the history section and suddenly found himself entranced by a certain title. Absently, he allowed his fingers to trace the glass that was shielding the gold lettering on the spine of A History of Hogwarts.

Her book.

Chocolate eyes and cinnamon hair flashed through his thoughts. . . A reminder of the past, of a time nearly forgotten. Of heart-break and untold sorrow.

Even now, two years on, she still affected his thoughts. . . In the most deepest fashion. Every action, every gesture and every waking moment, he strived to be the man she wanted him to be. Not Draco Malfoy the Heir of Lucius; not Draco Malfoy the Death Eater, but just. . . Draco Malfoy.

Merlin, even now he would give her the Sun and Moon - all the stars in the galaxy - if she just asked it of him! But there was only silence. A void that could not be filled by anything, no matter how many women he bedded, how much he drank, how much he worked, the void would always exist.

Heart racing, he pulled away sharply and returned to surveying the area.

He could see that the new owner had put a great deal of effort into the running of the shop. And it showed by the countless number of avid book collectors around him. He could hardly move without being brushed by or furtively stared at. It was his infinite grace that he allowed these lowly people to even brush by him. . . There was nothing to be done about it, short of hexing their arses out the door.

Him, Draco Malfoy, owner of the infamous Malfoy Inc. was possibly the most recognised wizard next to Harry Potter, the Boy Who Lived and Defeated The Dark Lord. But unlike Golden Boy, people knew not to approach him. His entire stature and standing in society commanded respect, awe and a little fear. Not that he minded.

With an air of importance, he straightened his robes regally and began to walk through the parting crowd; it seemed that people inherently knew that a predator was amongst their midst.

As he neared the busy till, he smirked disarmingly at the young, blonde-haired clerk behind the counter.

She blinked and blushed, looking down before gathering her wits and flashing a sunny smile at him. Before he could speak she had turned to her fellow employee and motioned for the man to attend him.

"Good afternoon, welcome to Rangreg and Gregran. My name is Burkley; how may I help you, sir?" The grey-haired assistant questioned, his kindly blue eyes glittering with recognition.

Quirking a brow, Draco rolled his shoulders back and drawled, "I wish to speak with the owner of this establishment."

The elderly man lowered his head slightly, "I'm afraid that is impossible; the owner is presently unavailable."

Grey eyes narrowed, but he said nothing.

After a few moments under his stare, the older gentleman flushed and gulped. "If. . . If you would wait a moment?"

Holding back a triumphant smirk, he watched as Burkley scuttled away like an insignificant creature, through a large door behind the elongated counter.

o 0 o

"How are you?"

She laughed, returning her coffee cup to the expensive desk that sat between them. Her office was modest but elegantly furnished and she had to admit. . . She was proud of the way things had turned out. "I'm fine, Harry, really."

"Just fine?" Her best friend of thirteen years grinned boyishly, his hand tugging at the messy locks of ebony hair that shot out in every direction. He looked like he had stepped through a tornado before being buffeted by a hurricane.

Hermione loved him for it.

She loved his easy manner and she loved that he could still laugh, still be happy. It had taken her a long time to subdue her grief, but Harry, who had always suffered, helped her through the pain of loss and sorrow. They helped each other. The deaths of many of their dear friends - Ron, dear sweet Ron - had all but destroyed her. The despair that had threatened to swallow her whole had been fought back by her best friend, her hero. He was her saviour, and for that she would be forever grateful. He had shown her that not all was lost, that laughter still existed and that it went hand in hand with her infinite grief. Things would never be the same, but. . . Slowly and surely, they were moving onwards and upwards to a place where they could live in relative peace.

"Better than fine. Fantastic!" She smiled softly and reached forwards to clasp the calloused hand that rested on her desk. "Thanks for coming, I know you're too busy to make social calls."

His grin faded slightly. "Yeah, there are still too many Death Eaters on the loose. Bloody cowards if you ask me, hiding from their punishment. The Law Enforcement department is up to it's neck in paperwork. Me and the other field Aurors are scouring the country, even going abroad when we hear of magical problems in the muggle world."

"Wow, sounds like a tough gig," her brow furrowed thoughtfully.

Harry saw her concern and squeezed her hand. "It's all right, you know."

"I know. . . I just - I just wish it would all stop."

"Don't we all?" He smirked, "The department misses you, Auror Granger."

She chuckled bitterly, "I'm sure they do. I keep getting a missive every month for this past year, asking for my reinstatement but. . . I don't think I can do it."

"You definitely don't want to consider it?"

"No, not really. This is my life now, Harry," she gestured at the comfortable office that surrounded them. "I'm quite content, surrounded by what I love the most."

"Well then, I'm glad you're happy. How's - " He was cut off by the sound of knocking.

Hermione scowled. She had specifically asked not to be disturbed! "Come in!" She cast an apologetic look to her friend and looked up at the refined older man that entered. "Ms. Granger," he supplied a little fearfully, "There's a man outside wanting to speak with you."

"Tell him I'm busy Burkley," she sighed with exasperation. How hard could it be? She asked for one simple thing to be done and even that was too much to ask for. It was a rare occasion for Harry to come and visit her, and dammit, she wanted to spend time with her friend!

Burkley looked most put out. He shook his head. "Believe me, this man is not to be refused."

The fear in her employee's eyes sent alarm bells ringing through her. Her troubled gaze caught Harry's and she watched as his emerald eyes narrowed cautiously. Could the man be threatening or dangerous? With a subtle nod from Harry, she turned to Burkley once again. It was an odd feat how they could communicate without words. . . "Tell him I'll be there in a moment."

Burkley nodded, looking fairly relieved before he stepped out again.

The door closed behind him and she found herself standing up slowly. "What do you think? Trouble?"

Harry frowned, but it was smoothed away by an eager smile of anticipation. "If it is, he's going to be in for a surprise."

She snorted. "Try not to let any destructive curses run rampant. I have an expensive collection and I will gut you without remorse if any of them are destroyed."

He laughed and looped her arm through his before kissing her cheek. "Hermione, you worry too much."

They stepped out into the corridor and she elbowed him, earning a grunt. "I know I worry, but just remember, I will not hesitate to gut and castrate you if anything is damaged."

Harry chortled, "Gut and castrate? Getting a bit creative aren't we 'Mione?" he teased mercilessly.

She replied by stepping on his foot and laughed as she heard him mutter 'still so childish' under his breath.

Arm in arm, they stepped through the doorway into the large dimly lit bookshop.

o 0 o

As Burkley disappeared, Draco resumed eyeing the wooden counter with interest. He raised a brow, noting the expensive and intricate carvings. This owner was certainly particular. It would be in both their interests for this business relationship to work. He never made personal calls, always sending his assistents, but for this occasion he chose to come himself. After hearing rumours about the elusiveness of the current owner, it was only fitting that he make the effort to corner them.

The sound of the door opening behind the counter caused him to look up. He watched as Burkley exited and walked to the end of the counter towards him. "I have spoken to the owner."

"And?" Impatient. That's what he was. He didn't like to be kept waiting. Not a moment after he had thought this, the carved door opened again and the sound of laughter, masculine and feminine, reached his ears.

The eagerness he felt about this meeting was suddenly drained away as he watched her step out, beautiful and glorious in every way, arm in arm with an annoyingly familiar face. He had never felt so much hate and annoyance for another man, besides his father and the Dark Lord. And he realised in that instant that jealousy was indeed a great big, fat green monster. It reared it's ugly head and snarled into his face, waiting to devour him.

She caught his eye and halted abruptly in the doorway, gasping with shock and horror. . . It did nothing for his ego.

It was a sound that heralded the coming of a great storm. A blizzard of the most humongous proportion.

A most unpleasant reunion, he thought dryly.

The world tunnelled in around them and swept them up in a fervor of flames, caught and imprisoned. Steel and chocolate clashed in an untold dance of the past and he resisted the urge to flee and run as the fiery flames licked around them.

Seeing her again, seeing her now after all this time, after she had rejected him. . . It felt as if the world was on fire.

Hearts break, hearts mend, love still hurts.
Visions clash, planes crash, still there's talk of,
Saving souls still colds closing in on us.

We part the veil on our killer sun,
Stray from the straight line on this short run.
The more we take the less we become.
The fortune of one man means less for some.

- Sarah Mclachlan

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