Cry Me Tears of Fire

By Pensive Puddles

"Lucius! It's your own son!" a deep voice cried in outrage, his eyes flickering back and forth between Malfoy and Draco.

"Zabini, I know he's my son. And I know when he's ready, and he is ready," Lucius snapped, casting cold eyes on his son, he asked just for show, "You're ready, aren't you son?"

Draco did not answer. Lucius gave him a quick warning glare that no one else caught and Draco nodded, "Yes, Father." He stood firmly on his two feet, trying to give the appearance that he could handle whatever he would have to face. He looked around the room arrogantly and proudly, just like his father.

He wouldn't be standing for long…

Screams (his screams? He didn't know), dark tunnels and fire, lots and lots of fire. Too much power to take in, too much to contain in one body. Merlin, it felt as if he was being ripped in all directions. His heart felt as if it would burst and it thundered painfully in his ears. And suddenly, it was over. He couldn't show weakness, not when so much depended on him. His legs trembled fiercely, throbbing in an indescribable feeling. He feel to his knees and bowed his head, pretending that he had fallen to bow to his Master when really his legs couldn't hold him any longer. He could feel his father's glare behind his back. "Are you proud of me yet, father?" Draco wanted so desperately to ask. He knew that his father would never answer that one question Draco had been wanting to ask all his young life.

Voldemorte's slithery head leaned down and whispered words in his ear, scaly words that hissed and tickled his ears unpleasantly. "Draco, my heir, my ultimate weapon in destroying Harry Potter!"

Books are scattered around the room and Draco is lying in a naked heap in the middle of the floor, surrounded by candles and Death Eaters that are chanting. The shame, the humiliation of being watched, Merlin he wanted to cry. All the followers, watching but never ceasing in their chanting, he could feel their eyes scanning his body. He had never felt so self-conscience in his life before. A woman comes, dressed in gossamer clothes that do not make the mind wonder. She reveals all. How can she not feel shame when he feels disgusting and filthy?

She comes to him and embraces him. Her eyes hold comfort, the only thing that stops his stomach from churning for moment. He's seen her once or twice in his life. She was always so kind, so sweet, and yet dark. She knew things beyond her years, and Draco feels sorry for her because it doesn't feel right. She's deprived of being a person, deprived of a free life, just like him. "It'll be over soon," she whispers comfortingly as she beings kissing him and the chants grow louder.

They yell. She screams and she's dead. She's looking up at him in relief, her last goodbye in gratitude, as if her whole purpose in life was to have sex with the heir of Voldemort and then die. Merlin, help him keep steady, he feels sick. The chants are gone. They've stopped. Hungry eyes, greedy at the sight before them never cease their staring. Stop, please make them stop looking; he feels so unclean.

He's alone in the room. The stench of death still hangs in the air. He's cold and alone and he feels so used, raped. He's never felt this way before. Something scrambles in the corner and fear rises in his stomach. He trembles. It's coming; he can feel it. Oh Merlin, he can hear it coming closer and closer. Its steps are nothing like he's ever heard before. It breathes, yet it does not. It groans, yet makes no sound. What's going on? He's going crazy, that's the only explanation.

He can't breathe. A heavy weight is pressed against his chest and incoherent murmuring mutters darkly in his ears. It sounds horrible, so evil. No! He can't be devoured like it's threatening to do, predicating to do. He tries to fight but his magic is so weak compared to the dark demon. He doesn't know how to fight. He has no wand. He cannot do wandless magic, or any that will make a difference. His fear drives him and he tries to get it away. It seems to be feeding off of his fear.

And then the darkness is gone and he's surrounded in pure fire, in the heart of the flame. He's going to die; he knows it; he's in hell; that's the only explanation.

Draco woke up in a cold sweat, only realizing that he was screaming when it echoed loudly in his ears. He looked around wildly. Where the hell am I? He struggled out of his sheets that he found himself tangled in and he stumbled down to the bathroom. It was dead silent. The fire in the Common Room had died down into soft ambers, barely giving any light or warmth. Candles were lit high up against the wall, leading a trail to the bathroom. He stumbled wildly for it and quickly locked the door behind him.

He jumped into the shower, clothes and all. Turning the water to pure cold, he gasped painfully as the water sliced against his skin and soaked his clothes. So cold…it was stopping the hot throbbing in his head though, thus he refused to turn it down or turn the hot water on.

Merlin, get these pictures out of my head, out of my mind! he screams. He couldn't stand seeing her face, over and over again. Her eyes, brown and warm and full of life, he could still see them widen and a flash with the realization that she was going to die before she collapsed on the floor, dead.

He could still feel her against his skin. Her purity, still burning against him. He ripped of his clothes savagely and turned the water to hot. The room steamed at the rapid change of water temperature and the mirrors quickly became fogged. Draco scrubbed at his skin, rubbing his skin so hard that it turned a nasty shade of pink. He was glad for the shower; it hid his tears. Go away, go away, go away! he screamed in his head.

The chanting, the screaming, the Dark Lord's voice…and his father just watching the procedure without coming to his son's defense, it never left his mind. And her eyes, beautiful brown eyes widening like a young, innocent child only to close shortly after. Her body, he could still feel her sweaty, petite body in his hands. He could still feel her body go sickeningly limp and fall backwards and hit the ground with a loud, lifeless thump.

He collapsed on the floor, losing his balance. The memories…the dreams…the nightmares…would they ever cease? He didn't know how long he stayed like that, huddled in the shower room with the water beating mercilessly on his back. All he knew was that he was back in bed later with his skin glowing a candy pink. He collapsed back into darkness and woke up without any recollection of any of his disturbing dreams or his midnight shower.

"You look like shit," Blaise commented, plopping down into the seat next to Draco and grabbed a slice of toast.

Draco didn't reply. He felt like shit. He hadn't slept well. He remember he had kept waking up to look around the room, listen to the snores from the other boys, and then falling back into another troublesome darkness only to wake up and repeat the whole process again. Merlin, what was wrong with him? He just felt so…weak. And wizards who wanted to control any of the Four Elements had to be strong at all times. They had to be, or else the outcome could be disastrous.

"Draco, you didn't stop by my room last night. I waited for you," Pansy pouted, taking a seat on the other side of him. She flipped her blond hair over her shoulder and looked at him with large, sad blue eyes. The infamous puppy-dog look Pansy used to get boys to sleep with her always made the males go weak in the knees and follow her where ever she led them. It never did work on Draco, unfortunately for her. She was the walking, talking, Siren that many girls gossiped and complained about because she would take any guy that she pleased. She was like Draco. Then again, he had trained her to be like him. She followed him down his dark path. Now she broke hearts and got whatever she wanted, by any means, as long as she benefited from it and felt no guilt in the end, just like Draco.

"I didn't feel to well," Draco remarked. Pansy only nodded and leaned in for a kiss. Draco absently kissed her lightly on the lips and rubbed his hand in a comforting gesture on her leg. Their kisses meant nothing to each other. They were empty and just felt like skin pressing against skin, but they still found comfort in each other. They grew up in like homes, rather cold and mature. Their mothers were always both off at parties or on shopping sprees and their fathers were always attending Dark Lord meetings and doing whatever he bided.

Maybe comfort was too strong of a word. It wasn't comfort; it was more like acknowledgment. It was the knowledge that they were still there. For Pansy, no matter how many guys she played with, she still ended up crawling into Draco's bed right after her previous lay. However, Draco wasn't quite as depending. If he had nothing else to do or wasn't interested in any other girl, he flirted with her and played the game she always loved and teased her like a new one before he locked them both in his room and made sure no one else came in.

Draco felt eyes quickly glance at the Slytherin King and Queen. Draco and Pansy were, without a doubt, the leading heads in the Slytherin House. Whatever they said, went, and no buts about it. If they told you to run, you ran until they told you to stop. No one could, would, and should question them. It was more a mental thing than anything else, but Draco cared not. Hierarchy always worked for him; he always was the person on top of the pyramid.

The bell sounded, dismissing the students to their first class. Students groaned as they ceased their breakfast gossip, or else they quickly finished it so that everyone would hear the juicy details by lunch time. They gathered their books and belongings and quickly treaded their separate ways. "Are you free later?" Pansy asked quickly, pressing herself closer to Draco so that they could have more privacy, or to persuade him otherwise.

Draco shrugged. Without even looking at her, or paying the slightest attention to, Draco brushed his lips against hers and mumbled, "If not later, maybe tonight."

Pansy smiled and nodded her head. She wasn't going to keep her hopes up, though. They had fallen, crashed and burned plenty of times thanks to him. If it was one thing that Pansy knew for sure about Draco Malfoy, it was the fact that he never, ever kept his promises.

There she was again with the rest of them, laughing. And all the eyes tended to keep staring at him, no matter where he moved. Laughing should be illegal, Draco thought moodily. He wished he were in Potions; there, Snape would have docked a hundred points from Gryffindor not only for laughing in his class, but for the fact that Potter was leading it. But, no. He was in Care of Magical Creatures and Draco was on Gryffindor turf now.

Draco could take a lot of things without getting his temper ignited. He could stand the overgrown idiot giant teaching him about the stupidest creatures that would never come in handy in later life. He could stand not being able to interpret what the blubbering oaf was talking about. He could only sigh and wish that Blaise and Pansy were there to keep him company (and sane. Draco didn't know how much more of the giant's thick accented mumblings he could stand.), but Blaise was in advanced Charms and Pansy was in detention for getting caught in the broom closet with some Hufflepuff moron. And Draco could stand sharing yet another class with the Gryffindors. But the one thing that nearly blew his top off, that put the icing on the cake, that sunk his boat rather then float it, was the Golden Trio walking towards him. No, walking would be an understatement. Strutting would probably fit better.

She was in the middle. It didn't mean that she was leading them, oh no. Draco had come to the obvious conclusion that Hermione never led the boys; she only followed and guided them when the retard genes really kicked in. She wasn't smirking like Ron. She didn't carry any look, but maybe one that just showed she'd rather be studying something worth wild then have to waste her time in this class or having to share the same air with Malfoy. Of course, the latter was more realistic, but Draco liked to think that she was thinking the first. It gave him some amusement that maybe they shared common thoughts every rare now and then.

Her hair was down today, yet the frizzyness was still there. However, it had tamed somewhat over the years. Maybe it was just puberty, and puberty seemed to work in her favor, unlike the Weasley, whose hair was greasy and plastered to his head. Draco almost wanted to remark that Weasley should stop trying to pull off the Malfoy-look, but then he thought better of it and hushed. It was rather offensive that such a poor Pureblood would try and look like him. Draco always hated being copied in looks. That was one of the unwritten laws in his House: never, in any way, act, look, or talk like Draco Malfoy.

"Well, well, well, ferret-face," Ron drawled. Draco silently noted how it reminded him of his own drawl, yet scratchier. "Why'd you even bother showing up to class today? Aren't you supposed to be in a Death Eater's meeting, kissing You-Know-Who's ass like your father?"

Unfortunately for the redhead, his voice cracked at the wrong moment, making his low voice squeak nastily. Nonetheless, the insult still hurt. "Damn it, Weasel, when the hell is your voice going to change?" Draco remarked. Fellow Slytherins chortled lowly, trying not to alert the Professor that they weren't paying attention…again.

Ron scowled, his face getting red. "When are you going to just hurry up and die?" Ron snapped back.

Malfoy rolled his eyes. "If you can't taunt, idiot, don't even bother at all. Merlin, it's a sight that you even made it this far in school. To think, that someone as low intellectual as you could possible make it into this school. You're IQ is just about as low as your dad's salary…" Draco paused dramatically, and gave Ron an up and down look. "If that's that case, Holy Salazar, you should be brain dead…I guess all the cheating off the Mudblood's papers pays off, doesn't it?"

There were short snickers that were cut off as Malfoy was lifted off the ground by Ron who held him with both hands at the collar of his shirt. Ron's eyes were wild, as was the color of his face. Harry wasn't even putting a hand out to hold back Ron. It appeared that he agreed whole-heartedly with Ron's attitude. Granger seemed to be having a battle between right and wrong. "I'm going to kill you, you-" Ron swore so filthy that Hermione gasped and many of the Slytherin's raised their eyebrows, as did Draco.

Draco, being as proud as he was and never missing the opportunity of making others feel stupid about themselves, only laughed outright, and loudly. "My, my, my, I suppose the filth of Granger has rubbed off in your mouth, has it, Weasel? Only plausible, considering you constantly seem to have your tongue shoved down her throat whenever you like, a rather disgusting display even for a cheap Pureblood wizard as yourself. Resorting to Muggle mating rituals? I suppose that is the only way you can get a girl, anyway."

Any further insults were never spoken as Ron howled in fury and flung Malfoy down to the ground. Ron pulled back his fist and collided it brutally against Malfoy's face faster than anything anyone had ever seen. The observers didn't realize what had happened until a rather sickening crunch filled the air. Harry tried to reach out to stop his friend from committing an act that would surely send him to Azkaban for the rest of his life (which Ron would declare would be a worthy cause if he could just beat the crap out of Malfoy). There were a couple screams as blood gushed over Draco's face.

Angry, no-livid beyond recognition, Draco didn't move, the fury inside of him paralyzing him. Everything slowed down. The jeers and screams, and cries of help that the students and observers shouted were low, distant and slow, and Ron's fist was reeling back ever so slowly to punch him again. Draco felt cold inside, icy cold, except for his hands that seemed to grow hotter and hotter till the heat was nearly unbearable. Suddenly, the speed of reality finally caught up and Ron's fist was flying towards him ever so fast. Before Draco could stop himself, Draco punched Ron squarely under the jaw, barely noticing that small flames were flickering from his hand as it smashed under Ron's face. The force of the blow flipped Ron backwards and onto his stomach. The smell of burnt flesh and hair hung in the air and many crinkled their nose, if their faces weren't transfixed in horror at the sight that had just happened before them.

"Ron!" Hermione screamed and Draco quickly looked at her, watching her as she fell by her boyfriend's side. An irritated, bitter emotion seemed to grow inside of him and Draco breathed in deeply, trying to keep his hands from igniting again. She rolled Ron over and gasped in sick horror as she examined Ron's face. All hair that had been close to his face was scorched completely off. His face itself was black and blistered. His brown eyes shined out amongst the burned and bleeding face in brilliant pain.

"Hermione…" he gasped, his lips burnt from his face. "God, it hurts, Hermione!"

"Don't speak. We'll heal you, don't worry," she hushed, patting his head and trying not to lose control over the sight. She looked at Malfoy in horror.

"You asshole!" screamed Harry as he lunged himself as Malfoy. But right when his hands were about to clasp onto Malfoy's robes, a large hand grabbed him by his collar and held him back.

"What in th' bloody name of Merlin is goin' on 'ere?" bellowed Hagrid. "Ye've disturbed me miniature gargoyles!"

The air was disturbed by catastrophic accusations.

"Ron attacked Draco!"

" After Draco insulted him horridly!"

"Dirty git! That's what he deserves!"

"You deserve to have the shit beaten out of you!"

"Slytherins are trying to take over Hogwarts!"

"Gryffindons are trying to annihilate the Slytherin house all together! Blackguards!"

"To hell with Slytherins!"

"To hell with the Gryffindors!"

Everything was so loud and fast that Hagrid finally let out a mighty roar that made many fall to the ground and cover their ears. The birds flew from their trees and other critters quickly scurried back to their homes to hid from the beast. "ENOUGH!" bellowed the giant.

"Hagrid, can I take Ron to the Hospital Wing?" Hermione asked, wringing her hands while looking wildly in concern at her red head boyfriend.

Hagrid looked at Ron's burnt face and glared at Malfoy and Harry, struggling not to choose Harry's side. Swallowing down any cruses he longed to spit in Malfoy's face (Hargird had never truly forgiven Draco for trying to kill Buckbeak back in Third Year), Hagrid said, "Class dismissed, which gives ye no excuse to be late to yer next class. Tell yer Professor's that Mr. Malfoy and Mr. Potter will not be attending class today, neither will Mr. Weasely or Miss. Granger. Get off with ye! You four, yer coming with me."

Pushing the two troublemakers before him, Hagrid scooped the burnt Ron in his arms and quickly took them all to the Hospital Wing. Draco looked down at his hands and winced in pain as he noticed the crisp burnt flesh again. Damn it, it hurt so badly. And Blaise wasn't anywhere near with his Aloe. The one time he really wanted Blaise around with his damn Aloe was the one time he was never around. Go figure.

He already could feel the feeling of his lungs tightening and becoming coated with layers of soot. Oh shit…he thought. Not in front of them. Please not in front of them!

He tucked his burning, blistered hands back into his pockets, wincing at the pain but didn't try to ease the pain. He couldn't let the others see, the Gryffindors see, let alone Potter. He looked around, trying to hold his breath. He locked eyes with Hermione. Her eyes seemed to suck his into hers and he was quite unnerved. It was like she knew what was wrong with him, as if she knew his secret. Which was impossible. Clearly impossible…right? Damn it, if she knew of all people…his father was going to kill him…

Coughing, thankfully, let him rip his eyes away from her brown gaze, and he tried to control himself. He was glad, for the first time in his life, to see the Hospital Wing and rushed inside gladly. Looking around wildly, while coughing horribly, he ran towards the room that had a small sign indicating the bathroom. Ignoring the sounds of Hagrid demanding him to stay put and not run off, Draco quickly entered the bathroom and locked the door behind him. He stumbled forward and slammed his wrists against the sink since his hands were so burnt that they couldn't grasp anything to give him some support of some sort.

He coughed again. The process was always excruciatingly horrible. His body was healing itself. It was an extra bonus to learning the art of control an Element. If bodily injury occurred, the element had the power to renew the damaged body parts, except in the times where the injury was incredibly lethal and gave no time for the body to renew itself. However, the process of renewing damages wasn't fun. Draco coughed hard, finally vomiting a mixture of ash and blood into the sink. Gasping for breath and thanking Salazar for a breath of life, Draco turned on the faucet and washed the repulsive concoction down the drain, noting that his hands were back to their pale flawlessness again. He gargled to get whatever soot was still caught between his teeth and in the back of his throat. Cleaning himself up, he walked out of the bathroom and back to Hagrid's side, acting as if nothing out of the ordinary had happened, as if he hadn't has sprinted madly to the bathroom and he hadn't had made horrible heaves into the sink. He only glared at Potter.

Potter's eyes were wide and Draco shot him a nasty glare, "What Potter? Haven't seen a forehead that didn't bear a stupid scar before?"

"You're face," he said, ignoring the comment. "It's…normal."

Puzzled, Draco reached up to his face and noted that his face was back to normal again. His mind searched looked for an excuse. And then he suddenly remembered who he was searching an excuse for and just calmly shrugged and continued to act all haughty again. He could say he knew some healing spells, if the question ever rose again. In a way, it was true. An unnatural healing spell, but it still was one from some sort of an angle.

His eyes wandered over the beds and he saw Weasly lying on one of the flimsy mattresses. He looked at the pale girl by his side and his eyes locked with hers again. And he knew for a fact, he just felt it, that Hermione Granger knew his secret.

Two words flashed through his mind: Oh Shit.

A/N: Well, that chapters done. I'm so sorry for those who are actually reading the Dragonstar Quest! I'm just…in such an angst mood right now and this is so much fun to write. Don't get me wrong, I've got about ten pages done on the fifth chapter of the Dragonstar Quest, so it'll be coming around sometime. I just don't know when…:sigh: I'm really bad at updating when I haven't written it up before. Most of my previous stories had just all been done all at once and then I cut them into smaller portions and edited those. A heck of a lost easier…

Anyway. Tell me what you think. Thanks for reviewing last time:grins widely: 11 reviews on one chapter:dances around room: I love you guys!