Title: Burning
Disclaimer: Don't own it.
Warnings: Torture, character death, angst, tragedy, implied slash
Pairings: Implied Harry/Draco
Summary: Draco has been left Harry's secret keeper. Voldemort wants to know where Harry is hiding.
It came as a shock how little it hurt. He would have imagined dieing as a much more painful experience but all he felt was a sort of, calming numbness that saturated his limbs. With great difficulty he lifted his head to look at the fatal wound. Crimson blood flowed from it, showing no signs of abating and soaking him in the dark fluid.
He couldn't feel the heat of his blood, nor could he feel the damp of it. He panicked more at this than at the lack of pain. The loss of senses he had had since he was born was disorienting to say the least and to have them so suddenly stripped from him came as an enormous shock. For a few moments, his mind was wrapped in a detached grey, thought and consciousness slowly retreating into darkness. This didn't last long however.
With a gasp of pain so suddenly realised his back arched upward with the shock of his body's agony. He looked up into cold crimson eyes baring into his soul and with difficult blocked the presence pushing insistently at his mind.
"Did I say you were allowed to die yet?" the man, no, monster hissed, snatching a handful of his blood soaked white-blonde hair. He gritted his teeth against the pain searing through him, robbing him of breath. His eyes slammed closed as he groaned through his teeth.
He frowned, feeling his heart slam against his ribcage, beating a mile a minute. Just moments ago, his heart had hardly beat at all and each pulse had threatened to be his last. The crimson eyed monster caught his frown and laughed at the blonde Slytherin lying coved in blood at his feet. The pale hand released the death grip he had had on his hair and the blonde fell to the ground with a muffled thump and another moan of pain.
"It's a potion," he was informed soon after the monster's laughter had subsided, "it keeps you alive no matter what I do to you. Would you like another demonstration of how it works Draco?"
Draco fought to keep his panic down, he had always been horrible with anything to do with pain. His father had expressed disgust at the way he handled Cruciatus, unable to keep from screaming and writhing each time it was placed upon him. Anxiety lingered in the pit of his stomach threatening to break the calm façade he was clinging so desperately to.
He was unable to stop the scream that leapt from his throat as Voldemort knelt beside him and whispered a curse. Draco recognised the curse as a dark one but that didn't seem to matter so much as the pain searing through a terrible, ragged gash that went from his cheek to his collarbone.
Upon hearing the scream Voldemort chuckled slightly, standing and wandlessly removing Draco's blood from himself. "This, Draco, is the least of what I can do to you. If you tell me where he is though, I will stop this torture, I may even accept you back to my side."
Draco spat blood from his mouth in an attempt to speak. "Fuck you," he managed to grate out.
The slight smile never left Voldemort's thin, pale lips. "I thought that would be the case," Voldemort sighed as if a great burden had been laid upon his chest, "You know Draco, you would have made a good Deatheater, if only you hadn't let yourself be corrupted by that weak child."
Draco nearly laughed despite his rather dire situation. Harry was in no way weak. Draco had never met anyone as strong as Harry and that was proven just by how Harry had survived impossible odds and thwarted Voldemort time and time again. He was tempted to throw that in his face but he wisely decided to keep his mouth shut, he was already in enough shit as it was.
Voldemort had his wand aimed at Draco once more, a wicked look taking over his snake-like face. "Incendio," he whispered.
Draco screamed.
Flames engulfed his legs, scorching him with heat and pain that fuelled his screams. The flame licked at his thighs and higher as he thrashed and writhed trying to douse the flame. His entire body spasmed in pain and he hardly heard Voldemort's softly spoken finit. His breath came in large gasps and sobs. Even thought the fire was gone, the pain remained.
Draco's eyesight dimmed momentarily and he felt a bit of relief but the potion it seemed would not even grant him the small release of unconsciousness.
Voldemort's laughter once again filled his ears, and Draco had to fight back tears once more, tears of helplessness and pain. "Are you ready to tell me where you hid Potter yet Drake? You don't mind if I call you Drake do you?" Voldemort's tone was mocking but impatience laced his voice, a rasping, horrible voice that sent shivers down ones spine.
Draco closed his eyes and clenched his teeth together. He had always been a coward at heart but Harry believed in him, Harry was counting on him. It had been Harry who had insisted upon Draco as his secret keeper no matter how many times Draco begged him to choose Dumbledore or Hermione or even the Weasel.
He could hear Voldemort's annoyed sigh as the wand was pointed at him once more, he heard the shout of Crucio, but he was too far lost in his memories of his lover. It was Harry who would give him the strength and courage to endure.
Harry looked down at the broken body at his feet, his green eyes wide and unbelieving. He almost couldn't recognise his lover.
Few strings of bloodied and ash covered hair fell around the burnt face. Limbs contorted at unnatural angles and blood covering the scorched flesh of his stomach, legs and groin. Multiple lacerations marred the once flawless pale skin. The skin on the left hand had been practically melted away showing blackened bone.
Harry held on to the slim hope that this was not Draco, that Moody had been wrong. The eyes were what told him that the lifeless body beneath him was Draco Malfoy. Wide open, glazed mercury eyes impaled his own and a sob wrenched from the depths of his throat.
Dropping to his knees beside the corpse he fought to keep the sickness down. "Draco," he choked out through violent sobs. His entire body trembled brutally as he reached to his lover. His hand felt along his throat to find a pulse that he knew would not be there. Still he hoped and prayed that Draco would have a spark of life still left in him and his grief riddled mind. He studiously ignored the fact that even a healer would not be able to save him if he was still alive.
He found no pulse and he leant back in shock. He was dead. Draco was really dead, just like Sirius, just like Seamus and Dean, just like McGonagall and even Snape. The war had had so many casualties already but Draco had been there through it all. Draco had been there to help him through the pain every time he got word one of his friends had been killed. Now he was gone.
He swallow hard as he attempted to take a breath but the pain in his chest, the pain that grew every second he realised Draco was not coming back, that he was well and truly dead, that it was all his fault.
"Merlin Draco," he sobbed, the realisation hitting him like a sword through the heart. The dark mark the had hovered above Draco and alerted Moody to his location was proof that this was the work of Voldemort. He knew without anything else that Voldemort had killed in order to find out where Harry was.
Draco had not wanted to be his secret keeper but Harry had talked him into it. This was his fault.
The grief and guilt stabbed him and he screamed as if it was a physical wound. His fists shook from where they lay on Draco's abused chest as he let out a heart rending scream full of agony and heartache. It was the broken cry of a man who had just lost everything.
It was dark before Harry was able to calm down enough to stop crying. Tears still brewed below the surface and his eyes burned with the effort to hold them back but he would, because he needed to be strong. Though he wanted nothing more than to take his own life and be with his love, he could not face Draco without having killed the bastard that had rent the life from his beloved.
His eyes blazed with Avada Kedavra green and he apparated. He knew exactly where Voldemort was, he could feel him through the bond that had been forged between them when Voldemort had failed to kill him with the killing curse.
He could see the shock in Voldemort's crimson eyes as Harry appeared before him, covered in Draco's blood. Harry didn't bother with a wand.
He had once heard it said that to cast the pain curse one had to be angry, had to truly want to hurt the other. Righteous anger wouldn't work. That was why Voldemort didn't look frightened when he saw the anger in the Boy who Lived's killing curse eyes.
Harry cast his hand out towards Voldemort and the Dark Lord fell to the ground screaming in pain. Harry was unaware of the Death Eaters looking at him with something close to awe, he was aware only of the one that had murdered Draco.
The magic that ripped through him next drew a scream from the depths of his soul as he flung the killing curse wandlessly at the one who had destroyed everything Harry had ever loved. His parents. His godfather. His friends. His Draco.
Every Death Eater watched helplessly as Voldemort fell, his eyes finally lifeless and dead. They watched as Harry Potter, the Boy Who Lived, stood watching the last spark of life disappear from Tom Riddle's eyes. They watched as a small sigh of relief escaped his lips. They watched as he fell in slow motion and a warm light enveloped him.
From the brunettes body an emerald light was drug from his heart and joined the flickering light. A shimmer of sparks, silver and green mingled in the air above the boy. Peace had found the Gryffindor at last.