To Play with Fire

Disclaimer: I own only plot and the pleasure of writing. All hail J.K.Rowling!

A/N: Title is still inspired by Muse. It's the same song.


Chapter 11

To Hope Lovelessly


Tom Riddle was furious. In fact he was so furious that most of his followers – those who had any intelligence, that is – had fled the building and others were probably hiding.. Even Nagini was somewhere out of sight.

He couldn't believe how stupid Malfoy had turned out to be, to get himself killed over such a mundane thing! Appear on Nocturn Alley for some meagre purchase and be spotted by a junior auror right away. Just a bit of dumb luck! DUMB LUCK!

“Dumb luck, huh?!” he screeched at no one, “It wasn't even an assignment, you hear me?! Not even revel or outing! You were bloody purchasing books, for crying out loud!

Tom sent a blast at the statue on the other side of the hall. It fell into pieces but he still didn't feel any better. He wanted to blow Lucius himself into tiny insignificant pieces and hurt every granule. But he couldn't do that any more now, could he?

He stormed out of the room and down the corridor hexing every statue, cupboard and alcove on his path. They had been dutifully rebuilt since the last time he blew them up so he continued fearlessly in search of someone, anyone to hex, who would actually scream.

“Damn you, Malfoy!” He shouted, “If I could have your pale neck and hair under my fingers right now!” Then he halted and his red eyes became even narrower. He was lost in thought for a second, then he inhaled and fumbled in his left sleeve. As he fingered his mark, he smiled in satisfaction and almost hissed, “Severuss...”


* * *


Severus Snape had had his orders and was on a mission. It wasn't the first time he was cursing the Dark Lord for his impatience. How do you get a student out of the grounds unnoticed on the morning he had received the news about his father's death? It was impossible! Everybody would be keeping an eye on him now.

Severus had explained it twice and in Voldemort's current state it was quite difficult. In fact, be it anyone but his most loyal servant, some Cruciatuses would have been cast but Snape was a too skilful manipulator for that. The Dark Lord had agreed to wait until dusk when Snape would be able to get Draco out of infirmary or the dorm. Who knew, maybe Severus had even saved young Malfoy's life.

Now he was headed towards the infirmary as quickly and quietly as possible. Which meant of course, that for anyone else the task would have been downright impossible. Still, although Severus Snape didn't sneak, his robes billowed.

He spelled the doors open soundlessly and entered the room. He knew at once that there were more people in there than was allowed, and as he stood there, frozen, he heard everything.

Severus Snape was astonished. Beyond that – he was downright shocked. When the trio started to leave, he stepped out of the way and cast a masking spell on himself.

What the hell should he do now?

Finite incantatem

As it was very dark in his corner and the boy seemed to be lost in thought, Severus stayed where he was. Only after a while he stepped out in the open, “Mr. Malfoy, I'm glad you are not asleep.”

* * *

Draco was standing by the window, gazing at the stars. They were beautiful, cold and sad. Just like him. Without the beautiful part, of course, he felt himself rather ugly at the moment. What did appearances count if you were a beast on the inside?

He had loved his father, he was sure he had. On the other hand though, maybe he didn't really know what love was? Maybe he was unable to feel normal human emotions? Would he feel like that if Hermione died too? No! The answer rose unbidden in him, doubtless and strong.

The door to the infirmary opened but he didn't turn. It was probably Madam Pomfrey checking up on him again. But no, there was not one, but two, no, three sets of footsteps. Who would...?

Oh, of course, they came with the bloody serum, no doubt. Unafraid to interrupt his mourning, were they? Well, it seemed that they knew him better than he knew himself...

He'd smirk if he had any strength left but he had none what so ever. After smashing his hand, Draco had been sitting on the bed of the hospital ward staring at the floor right in front of him seeing and hearing nothing as it seemed. Madam Pomfrey was attending to him with Scele-Gro and he just sat there, not responding in any way. Draco had been fully aware of the things going on around him and could have responded if he wanted to but he didn't. Nothing just seemed to be important enough.

The day passed and he was gazing at the stars now.

“Draco.”

Her voice - an irrefutable fact the she was here but no fluttering started in his stomach. Had he passed even that emotion?

They were standing behind him now and he decided that it was time. This was important. To win the war was important, to get Voldemort and other Death Eaters was important, to help others to do it was important. So he would turn to them in a moment. Just a minute more...

A star fell and he wished...

Something touched his shoulder and he flinched. Draco turned quickly around to see if it was her. It was. He inhaled.

“Don't touch me.” His voice was cold and hostile and Hermione looked hurt. He saw it in her eyes and was hurt for her too. He had hurt her and he never, ever wanted to hurt her... He loved her, he loved her and he had hurt her and he always would do nothing more than use and abuse and she... was not... like... that. And he felt used and abused by his father, wasted and dirty. Rejected.

Useless...

Hopeless...

The same thoughts were running in circles in his head and there was no way out of it. He was trapped.

He was a bastard. Emotionless, a worthless bastard who didn't care about his father and hurt those he cared about. He didn't deserve to be touched by her. People like her weren't supposed to associate with people like him. She was so good and pure and... good. And he was not.

Useless...

Draco concentrated on his aching hand to bring himself out of it. He turned his gaze, “Potter.”

“Malfoy?” He sounded on guard and Draco could not blame him. He was apprehensive of himself right now too. Well, no point in beating around the bush, “Did you bring the serum?”

“Yes, will you drink it?” Harry reached out the vial and Draco took it. A small and fragile bottle and yet so powerful potion inside. Just like her. And he was...

Enough!

“Are you alright?” Hermione had been looking at him as if he was a wild animal she felt pity for. He didn't need her pity. People like her were not supposed to feel sorry for people like him. Draco refrained from looking at her nor answered. He uncorked the vial instead.

“I must warn you that I will not answer anything that is not directly connected to the matter at hand. So don't even ask.” His voice was cold and flat, his eyes were silver mirrors – reflecting everything around him but concealing what was inside.

“Fine.” Harry thought about what Hermione had told him earlier. That the hand breaking had been premeditated and that she didn't think Malfoy had any real emotions because of how calmly he had drank the coffee after reading the article about an auror killing his father. But now looking into Slytherin's empty eyes he wasn't so sure that the guy didn't feel anything. It was more than possible that he was just unable or unwilling to express what he felt.

“How long will it work?” Malfoy had sat on the bed and was looking at the vial again.

“About half an hour.” Ron and Hermione sat on the neighbouring cot but Harry remained standing, “Backing out?” He didn't really think Malfoy was having second thoughts but it was taking him too long and Harry had no intention of staying there all night.

“Do I have a choice?” A self-ironic smile passed briefly Draco's face. It was first in a very long time.

He raised the vial to his lips and drank. Then he handed it to Ron and said, “Take a look, Weasel, I drank all up like a good little boy.” Draco surprised himself by smiling again and now even two other boys were sure they hadn't imagined it. It was a sad smile though, something was missing in it, namely – any warmth, it was just a shape of his lips.

“Fire away,” the blond said.

“Do you really want to help us fight Voldemort?” Ron asked right away.

“Oh, yes.” Draco was observing the abashed expressions the three were giving him. Figures, none of them had really thought he was telling the truth. In reality they just hadn't dared to hope but Draco couldn't see the difference.

Harry was the first to get his wits together. “Why?” He needed to get to the bottom of things, he needed to be sure he could count on the Slytherin.

Draco thought of where to start, “As you know, I'm well-versed in pureblood ideology and for years I have believed that I am better than anyone just because I was a Malfoy and a pureblood.” Here his mouth crooked slightly as if in self-irony again but it dissipated the same moment and before anyone could have said anything he continued.

“It does not really matter what made me dismiss the whole concept. Just look at Granger here and Longbottom. Hell, Crabbe and Goyle are not far off from being squibs. But that's only half a reason or maybe even less.” He paused and then looked straight at Harry, “What I told you about Voldemort last time is the truth, I think he's a nutter and should be put down with whatever means necessary. Tell me, Potter, all this crap about prophecies aside, are you really willing to kill him?”

Harry had not really heard it said out like that before. Everybody were talking about them fighting and him winning, the chance of him dying and all that sugarcoating but the truth was, it all boiled down to Harry killing Voldemort. It was relief to be finally able to say it.

Harry nodded, “Yes, I am going to kill him.”

Ron and Hermione startled a little but Draco only nodded, “I'm going to help you. Anything I can do, just ask. As I've already told you I'm accepted in Death Eater ranks. Everything I know about their plans – which at the moment is not much – you will know. My current assignment is to become friends with you, so here you can help me. It will be enough if you show yourself talking to me in the halls for a start. I've already told snake face some inconsequential crap about us getting along.”

“I think you should start dating Hermione.” Ron became suddenly animated, as everybody else froze. Hermione shut her eyes in humiliation waiting for Malfoy to start shouting about not touching her with a ten foot pole and Harry was simply speechless.

Draco didn't dare to breathe, all his thoughts were in a swirl or maybe he didn't have any, he was not sure. He simply watched Ron jump up from the bed and explain his ideas, “You see, no one would ever believe that you and Harry suddenly became best mates without a good reason, would they? So I was thinking if you two... I mean Hermione and you, not Harry... If the two of you started dating it would also give you a good reason to hang out with Harry and me.”

Draco had started breathing again now but being still in quite a state he was unable to do anything but look at Ron pace. Harry was standing between the other three on guard, he wasn't sure who he would be saving from who but he was sure that somebody would be exploding pretty soon.

Ron, naturally, was oblivious to any tension in the room and continued gesticulating, “You don't have to actually do anything with her.” He stopped his pacing, “In fact, I'll kill you if you will! But holding hands would be OK and we could all study in the library together - ”

“No,” Draco had found his voice again. He seemed calm, so Harry and Hermione sighed in relief too. Draco briefly glanced at Hermione and it was like being punched in the stomach - all he saw on her face was relief. There it was, stirrings of an emotion inside of him, fine, let it be pain then, it's better than nothing. He had no idea when it was that he had started to hope... And now there was nothing again...

Still, he tried to make his refusal not to sound insulting. His face remained solemn as he said, “No one would ever believe we are really dating.”

Ron shrugged, “Why? She's already dated one Slytherin.”

“No,” Hermione finally braved an intervention, “Draco's right. That's a ridiculous idea.”

Draco's Adam apple bobbled as he was trying to swallow with a dry throat. Yes, ridiculous. That's exactly what it was. He felt utterly rejected. Hopelessly in love and loving hopelessly.

The world of feelings crashed down on him.

To Be Continued...


A/N: Yes, I know that Voldemort is kind of pathetic; that is how I see him - powerful but narrow-minded.