Tears of Fire

Draco walked out of the Great Hall, still holding a steaming glass of pumpkin juice. He really wasn't all that fond of pumpkin juice, it had a funny aftertaste and drinking it steaming hot when it was generally supposed to be a cold drink really didn't help matters much. But he enjoyed the warmth, it did nothing long term, but for the brief second after he swallowed it, it helped ease the aching coldness in him. He had started magically heating all of his drinks now, but, unfortunately, all they served for dinner was pumpkin juice.

Draco heard footsteps behind him. He peered over his shoulder, just as he had thought. Pansy was tailing him. He paused to consider his options. He could let her catch up to him, and probably have to endure some unwanted touches until he coldly turned her down, that would doubtless be amusing, but it would also take a great deal of effort which he really didn't feel like putting forth right now. He decided to escape her.

He began to walk hurriedly down the corridor, knocking a few first years out of the way. Draco glanced back to see his progress, and then turned back, alarmed. She could walk fast! She was gaining on him! Draco picked up the speed a few notches. Was she running? Didn't the girl have any shame? Draco began walking a pace that could just barely still be described as walking, it was certainly bordering on at least a trot. He spared a quick glance over his shoulder. Egad! That girl could move! The blond, mousy female was hurdling down the corridor. This was a battle of wills now; he could not let her catch him!

Draco's concentration was so fixed on the girl behind him that he completely missed the one in front of him. Smack! There was one mad moment of flying books, papers and brown curls, and a cry of "Oh no!" then Draco was on the ground with a sharp pain in his backside. He glared at the girl in front of him; almost half of his pumpkin juice had sloshed out.

"Watch where you're going, you clumsy Mudblood."

"Me?" Hermione asked, outraged. "You were the one who was turned around! I'll never get these back in order!" The last turned into a bit more of a moan, than a shout.

Her words brought Draco back to the problem at hand, he turned around. Pansy was very close now, a triumphant, and slightly hungry, gleam in her eye.

"Actually," said Draco hurriedly, "it was my fault, let me help you put them back in order."

Hermione looked surprised, then her expression became suspicious as she peered at him, seemingly looking for hidden motives written out in his eyes.

"Damn you, woman! Can't you except some generosity from a Slytherin?!" he asked, his voice rising a little more than was really necessary. "I mean, gee, I really feel horrible, please let me help you?" Draco included a little of the Malfoy charm on this one, there was no way she was refusing.

"Oh, all right," said Hermione, her suspicious look softening slightly, but not nearly enough. "But you had better not--"

"Yes, yes, I'll be an absolute angel." He said quickly following her into the office from which she had just emerged. He smiled triumphantly, Pansy wouldn't try to approach him if he was with another girl, for all she knew they could be shagging in here.

"--So I'm working as an assistant for Professor McGonagall in my spare time, and she wanted these by tomorrow morning." She glanced up at Draco, who was still looking back at the door, smiling and looking smug. "Because she's selling them as sex toys in Knockturn Alley," she finished. Draco nodded slightly, still not looking at her.

"Malfoy!" said Hermione. "You're not even listening to me!"

His eyes snapped back to her. " Of course I am, I buy from McGonagall regularly." He sat down cross-legged on the floor, smiling innocently up at her and looking impossibly handsome. "So where do we start?"

An hour later, Draco was sorely regretting his rash promise to help. Each paper had to be sorted by date and quality. And Hermione snapped at him every time she felt he had done one wrong. He had hoped to get in some writing tonight, but this was starting to look less and less likely. And to make matters worse, his hair kept falling in his eyes, blinding him. And he had discovered some cheap fabric was woven into his black, expensive sweater that was itching his skin horribly every time he moved.

*******

Hermione stared crossly at the blond boy sitting across from her. Blondes really weren't her type, but she had to admit that he was very handsome. She really had no idea why he had offered to help her. She had expected him to have some malicious plan, but so far he seemed to just be annoyed. He let out a grunt of frustration as he pushed his soft blond hair out of his eyes, and then turned to itch his shoulder.

A few more moments of this passed in silence, until suddenly he stopped and exclaimed, "This damn sweater!" He tugged at the bottom of his black sweater, pulling it up over his head. For a moment, the white T-shirt under it clung to the sweater, showing a thrilling glimpse of his light, finely muscled stomach.

What is he doing? He's stripping! A sudden panicky thought reached Hermione. He's not trying to seduce me, is he? This thought was quickly done away with, as his silver eyes emerged from the collar, the rest of the shirt still clinging to his head, completely covering his blonde hair.

"Actually, this works quite well," he said, sounding pleased, tying the sleeves together behind his head. He did a few experimental dips of the head, and when no hair fell into his eyes, he smiled smugly. "I should have thought of it before."

Hermione couldn't help herself, she burst out laughing.

"Hey!" said Draco. " I would like to point out that I'm helping purely out of the goodness of my heart."

"I know, I'm sorry," said Hermione, trying to get herself under control. "It's just that, well, you have a shirt on your head.... and you're a Malfoy!" She looked up at Draco and her gasps of laughter died rather quickly, he was staring at her with one silver brow slightly arched, a small smirk on his face. He is the only one, thought Hermione, who could make me feel ridiculous when he's the one wearing a shirt on his head!

" Shall we continue then?" he asked.

Hermione nodded, feeling self conscious, and that it was very unfair.

*******

Ginny walked distractedly down the corridor, very full from dinner. She had many things to be thinking of right now, with her being the Daughter of Fire and playing a part in the destruction of Voldemort under the instruction of a mysterious man who she knew hardly anything about. But right now, what was mainly occupying her mind was homework. She had finally finished her Transfiguration essay, though it was a day late. She'd had a hard time concentrating. She wouldn't have another lesson for two days, which would make it even later. She scanned the hallways for Professor McGonagall's tight bun and strict face. Instead she saw Ron and Harry, walking towards her. She felt the familiar leap in her stomach at the sight of Harry. She smiled briefly at them as she passed.

"Hey Gin," Harry said, returning the smile, "do you know where Hermione is?"

Hermione. She felt the oh so familiar stab of pain. Did Harry do this to her on purpose? She was so tired of this.

"No, sorry, you seen McGonagall? " she asked.

"She might have skipped dinner to work, you could check in her office," Ron offered, helpfully.

"Right, thanks," said Ginny, continuing past them. She resisted the urge to turn and look at Harry's retreating back.

She knocked softly on McGonagall's door. Then, hearing no answer, slowly opened it.

If she had thought that Hermione sitting in the floor with some pale, black haired person was odd, she was even more astounded when she saw who it was.

"Hermione!" then, as she recognized the sharp handsome features on the soft, light skin, "Malfoy?" then, "Malfoy?" as she realized that what she had taken for long black hair was in fact a black sweater hanging from his head. He is the only person, she thought, who could manage to look sexy with a shirt on their head.

*******

"Yes, Weasley?" asked Draco. "Do you have a question?" He fixed the red headed girl with a blank, cold gaze. He decided that in this situation it would be best to go with the old, I do not have a shirt on my head! tactic. Ginny shook her head, seeming to decide it was better not to ask.

"What are you working on?" she asked, bending down on her knees to peer at the stacks of paper beside them. She leaned forward and her dark red hair fell against her lightly freckled cheek, the tips almost brushing Draco's knee. He had the odd urge to wind it around his fingers. He reached to take a drink of his pumpkin juice instead.

"I organized these for Professor McGonagall, then Malfoy knocked me over, so he's helping me reorganize them," Hermione explained.

Draco was about to add his side of the story, but it slipped his mind when he tipped the pumpkin juice up, anticipating hot, overly sweet liquid to pour into his mouth, and all that reached his lips was a cold, solid block. The pumpkin juice had frozen solid. He sat it back on his knees with a sigh.

"That was decent of you," said Ginny, raising her eyebrows at him.

"Yay. Gold star for me," said Draco dryly. "Don't think I'm not regretting it." Ginny ducked her head quickly, but he was almost sure he'd seen the corners of her mouth turn up.

The door opened once more and Harry and Ron walked in. Of all the times for him to be in a room full of Gryffindors, it had to be the one time he had a sweater hanging from his ears. It had all been well and convenient after an hour of sorting papers, it held his hair back very nicely. Hermione hardly seemed to be looking at him anyway. But now things were just getting more and more awkward.

"There you are Hermione," said Ron. "Hey Ginny! Did you find McGonagall?" Then his eyes landed on the third person in the room. "Malfoy? What the hell?"

"Yes, Weasley, what the hell? That has been pondered by many greater minds than yours. I suggest you go study the Bible. And if you don't mind, could you all please leave. I really would like to finish here before I get wrinkles. That's not seeming very likely with Miss Picky here, and you really aren't making it any easier."

"Fine," said Ginny, "I have to turn in an essay to McGonagall, anyway."

She began to rise to her feet, putting one hand on Draco's shoulder to push herself up. As her fingers connected with his shoulder, it was like a jolt of burning lightening shot through him. He jumped slightly, and the pumpkin juice fell of his knee, spilling on the floor, no longer frozen.

Draco grabbed her tightly by the shoulders, silver eyes flashing. "Don't," he said, the frost in his voice audible, "touch me." He let her go, pushing her backwards towards her brother and Harry who caught her. He turned back to his papers calmly, but it wasn't going to slide by that easily.

Ron grabbed him by the arm, lugging him to his feet.

"Don't you dare talk to her like that"!

Draco knew he should have let it pass, but he was ticked off now. He didn't know what was happening. What did Ginny do to him? He didn't even know if it had been on purpose or not. And though he really wasn't that cross towards Harry anymore, something about Ron just urked him.

"I can talk to her however I bloody want, Weasley." He spat the last word like it was an insult.

"Apologize," growled Ron.

"No."

A burst of pain exploded in Draco's head as Ron's fist flew up to meet his jaw. Draco sunk an elbow into Ron's stomach. They were on the floor in an instant, scattering the papers, pummelling every inch of each other. Harry dived to the floor, attempting to pull them apart.

Draco's mind was suddenly back two years. To the Quidditch pitch, a black head and a red both hurtling towards him at the same time, beating him till he had huddled on the ground. Crying, for the last time.

Without thinking, Draco drove his fist into Harry's nose. He didn't know how it had happened, but he was suddenly on the floor, his arm twisted up at a painful angle on his back. A knee was driven sharply into his lower back, pinning him to the ground, and making breathing difficult.

"Let me up, Potter," said Draco, keeping the pain from his voice, drawling as if he were merely bored.

"Promise not to hit me?" said Harry's panting voice from somewhere above him.

"I promise," said Draco. Relief washed over him as his arm was released, and the knee slowly removed from his back. He stood up casually, dusting himself off. The sweater had been yanked from his head at some point; his blonde hair was now hanging messily around his head. His lip was bleeding, and his white shirt was torn, but He managed to still have an air about him as if he were wearing the finest garments imaginable. He smiled charmingly at them, then punched Ron in the face.

*******

The Astronomy Tower was empty when Fleur reached it. Splendid. She set to work at once, lighting candles at strategic places, then positioning herself perfectly, leaning against the wall, looking out at the stars. Turned just so, her long golden hair hanging down her back was transformed to a glistening river of moonlight. She knew that Belanger came up here every night at this time. He would have a surprise tonight.

Right on time, there was a creek as the door swung open.

"Oh, sorry," said Belanger, seeing that it was occupied, and turning to leave.

"No, it's ok. Stay," said Fleur, turning her head slightly, letting the shadow of a coy smile play across her lips.

Belanger looked doubtful, but he closed the door behind him. He still stood a frustrating distance away though. Hello? Did he not see the candles? Like anyone actually lights candles for their own enjoyment.

"It's a beautiful night," said Fleur, her voice a low, silky purr. She was putting the Veela charms into full action now. He came to stand beside her. Yes! Though he had chosen the wrong side, and was now blocking her moonlight. He looked up at the sky, the stolen moonlight shining a deep gold off of his black hair.

She lifted her black-heeled foot slightly, to rest on the step of the wall, pretending to move to get a better look at the grounds below. In one strategic bend, she managed to show some cleavage and let the black silk of her dress ride up her leg somewhat. She turned back and met his eyes full on, looking up through the veil of her lashes. Then she smiled, a bit crookedly, one side leading the other up, into a truly seductive position.

"You've got something on your face," she said, her voice a low whisper, she reached up to brush the imaginary offensive thing off his temple. She let her finger linger briefly, enjoying the smoothness of his skin, then let it drift lightly down his cheek bone and softly brush his lips, before her hand returned to her side.

He cleared his throat awkwardly. "Um, so how is teaching? This is your first year isn't it? Do the students behave for you?"

Erg! Fleur thought. I just touched your lips, black silk is riding up my legs, and you're talking about teaching?!"

"Yes, they're fine," she replied somewhat snappily. "Do you remember me from school at all?"

"Of course, you were chosen for the Triwizard Tournament. My mother was very fond of you."

Oh my gosh! Fleur thought, she had completely forgotten. He was Madam Maxime's son! That was so odd! She wasn't sure she had ever been this close to him at school, they had been in different years, and had different friends. How could he be the son of Madam Maxime? His was tall, yes, but so lean, and he moved with a catlike grace that certainly didn't resemble his half giant mother.

The schoolgirl that was still hidden somewhere inside her suddenly rebelled. She couldn't seduce the Head Mistresses son! She sighed and let her leg fall back to the ground, her dress going back to its appropriate length. She smiled a normal smile.

"I remember you too, you were always top of your class, and played a hell of a game of Quidditch."

*******

Ginny couldn't sleep that night. She tossed and turned fretfully in her search for sleep. She kept seeing those cold silver eyes looking into hers. Don't touch me, had she ever been spoken to that cruelly? Finally, sleep found her, drifting through her window, riding on the soft breeze to still her fluttering eyelids, and change her tormented thoughts into the gentle sweep of dreams.

When Ginny awoke it was to a loud crack and then a bang. Her eyes flew open. It was dark outside, though it was well into the morning. She sat up and looked out the window, rain beat against the glass, and lightning lit up the sky. She was filled with a sudden longing. She got out of bed and ran to the window, her bare feet slapping against the stone floor. She ran her finger along the glass, tracing the lightning's bright path. The delightful tingling of power ran through her. She longed to be outside, part of the storm. She changed out of her nightgown quickly and left her dormitory.

*******

Draco had been caught in a storm. Not that he minded storms, usually he actually enjoyed them, but he'd been writing. Sitting on the edge of the forest, it was a relief to get away from the Slytherin common room sometimes. He was now walking awkwardly, trying to shelter his black folder of writing with his body.

It was then that something caught Draco's eye. It was the red he saw first. He turned to focus on it properly, what he saw made him draw in a sharp breath. Ginny, it must be Ginny, but it wasn't Ginny like he had ever seen her before. She was dancing; her movements were joyous, embracing the storm. The pounding of the rain, the boom of thunder, seemed to make their own beat, she danced with it. The way she moved, it was familiar, he thought, like fire. She danced like fire, like the flickering of flames. She was soaked with the rain, and it flew off of her hair in droplets as she spun.

Her arms were flung up towards the sky now, and lightning, responding to her call, shot down to meet her welcoming arms, dancing on her fingertips. It lit up her face and hair-- she looked unearthly. Her head was thrown back and she let out a cry of joy and freedom.

Draco watched in hypnotized fascination, feeling her elation coursing through him. Then, with no warning, he was there. He was the rain. He fell on her face, sliding down her cheeks, clinging to her lashes, landing on her lips. He was absorbed in her hair, he soaked through her clothes. He flew from her hands and hair as she danced.

Then he was back, clinging to the nearby tree, scarcely noticing as the rain poured down on the black folder clutched in his arms. What is happening to me? He gasped in air. His eyes fell on Ginny once more, she was no longer dancing, she was standing still, staring at him. Rain continued to fall on her, but she was now coated in a shimmering layer of frost. Their eyes met. Draco turned, heading back for the castle at a run. For the first time in years, he really felt afraid. Afraid because of something that was happening inside himself, something he could not stop, could not control.