The Heat That Burns

DISCLAIMER: Warning! I make no claim to any property of J.K. Rowling's, and am in no way profiting by this. I do offer her my sincerest thanks for allowing us this garden of the mind in which we play. Further Warning! This story...and likely any I ever write…are dominated by gay themes and characters. That's how it is, if this in any way makes you uncomfortable...do not read further.


The Heat That Burns……by Samayel


Draco remained in the Prefect’s baths so long that, had it not been for his map, Harry would have worried for Draco’s safety. He emerged so late that Harry, curled in a nearby alcove and half-dozing, was only woke by the sound of the opening door, and had to hurry to keep up.

Despite what Harry assumed were Draco’s best efforts, the Slytherin Prefect was looking haggard, unkempt (for Draco), and troubled. It made Harry’s stomach twist to think that what he’d done might well have hurt Draco more than the attempt on his life.

Harry puzzled that over, while following Draco through the halls. Zabini and Nott had to have unleashed that serpent, and after Draco’s temper fits of the past week, they had plenty of cause to bear malice…but murder? That spoke of something darker at play than mere house politics and schoolboy rivalries.

He needed more information, and Hermione probably shouldn’t know about this…it opened the door to too many uncomfortable questions…not the least of which was why Harry was in a Prefect bathroom with Draco Malfoy after curfew. He needed to know what kind of creature that snake had been, where it had come from, and who helped Zabini or Nott get their hands on it. Then he could deal with the rest himself.

Draco may not have been Harry’s boyfriend, or even his friend by any traditional interpretation of the word, but Harry desperately needed to assuage the guilt he was feeling over this night’s fiasco, and protecting Draco from his enemies seemed a good way to do that.

Draco made it to Slytherin’s common room and uttered the password, shuddering slightly as he did so. Harry could see why…the password was ‘Serpents Fangs’, and that certainly struck a chord, given the night’s events. Harry watched his map as Draco made his way to his room in peace. The dots named Zabini and Nott were in their beds where they belonged…and Harry ground his teeth at the thought of them sleeping soundly after nearly killing a classmate. Soon enough, he’d make them pay.

-------------------------------------


It was exhausting, privately researching magical serpents, watching his map to keep tabs on Draco and his enemies, attending his own NEWTS level courses, and keeping up the pretense that nothing was out of the ordinary. The only thing that made all this possible was Draco remaining in his room, which had continued for two days straight.

Rumor had it that Draco was seriously ill, but Harry knew better. Whatever ailed Draco was more mental than physical. He’d done something more than just frightening Draco that night, he was sure of it. Something about the way he’d treated Draco had damaged Draco in a way that Harry couldn’t have predicted, and the blame for Draco’s current condition rested squarely on Harry’s shoulders.

Harry’s eyes misted up and the letters on the page he was trying to read blurred. This kept happening to him while he studied. Whenever he came back to the realization that he’d accidentally harmed Draco much more seriously than Zabini and Nott had, he started to tear up uncontrollably. He hadn’t been in his right mind that night, and he tried to tell himself that it wasn’t his fault and that he’d saved Draco’s life, but the words seemed hollow.

He’d heard that Draco wasn’t eating, and didn’t sleep much, if at all. He hadn’t hexed any students, he’d warded his room heavily against intruders, and had only spoken briefly to Professor Snape, presumably excusing his illness. Apparently, Draco had simply brooded in wounded silence, alone in his room, ever since returning to Slytherin.

Harry wiped his eyes, cursing himself for being a soppy git when he should be looking for answers, and turned the page of the book he was reading, Libram Serpentia : Snakes of Power. The illustration on the new page made Harry’s heart skip a beat. Black, with markings of green and red!

The serpent that had attacked Draco was a Soul Winnower, and came from West Africa. It was an ancient creation of Dark magic, and a servant to powerful wizards and witches. They were incredibly rare, but possessed intelligence far beyond a normal snake’s, and they were highly resistant to magic. The venom they carried was not merely deadly, but also horrifyingly painful, leaving victims screaming for hours as the toxin destroyed internal organs before it stopped their hearts. Draco had nearly met such a fate, and Harry felt a prickle of fear when he thought about how close a call it had been.

There were two sources for such a snake that came readily to mind, and one was Voldemort. Harry knew for a fact that Draco was unmarked, and had refused to join the Death Eaters. It had largely to do with Draco’s adamant refusal to engage in any activity that didn’t immediately benefit himself, and having watched his father and other powerful wizards fall from grace into ignominy had biased him strongly against the Death Eaters and Voldemort.

The other possible origin was Zabini’s mother. She was reputed to be a witch of stunning beauty and power, whose seven previous husbands had all died under questionable circumstances, leaving her their fortunes each time. It was even possible that a fusion of these two possibilities was the answer. Perhaps Zabini acquired the snake from his mother in an effort to eliminate Malfoy on Voldemort’s orders?

At least now he had something to work with, and this constant bookwork was over. Harry shut the book with a sigh of relief, and gathered his supplies. Map, cloak, broom and wand were ready, and he would need them all, as well as a few other supplies, before he was done. Zabini and Nott would get theirs…and Harry would be giving it to them. Then he could safely work on undoing whatever damage he’d done to Draco.

-------------------------------------


It had gone surprisingly well, all things considered. Getting into Slytherin’s common room was easy once he had the password. Zabini and Nott shared a room, and a little magic was required to get in, but they were sleeping targets, and a couple Silencing Charms and Body Bindings later, with the assistance of his cloak and the application of Levicorpus, Harry had removed them from the Slytherin dorms with no one the wiser.

The broom had come into play then, and with a bit of rope and some difficult maneuvering, he’d hung them from the central Quidditch pitch Quaffle hoop, and removed the spells from them.

Blaise Zabini and Theodore Nott woke up to find themselves bound by the ankles, suspended dozens of feet above the ground, in nothing but their underwear…and Harry Potter was floating in front of them with a smile that was absolutely predatory. Their initial attempts to scream revealed that the area around them had been muffled, keeping all sounds made by the three of them trapped and unheard by the castle’s slumbering residents.

Harry interrupted their confused and frightened rantings by punching each of them in the stomach just once, which left them choking for breath. Harry wasn’t an inherently vicious person, but he’d long since learned that cold blooded murderers had to be treated with ruthless force. With Draco’s life on the line, he could be as harsh as he had to be. Hot anger filled him, more real and intimate than the crazy rush of magic from the other night, and the heat of his outrage gave him a freedom he rarely possessed.

“Let’s skip the pretense and get to the point. You fucking well know why you’re up here, so don’t play the innocent with me! You brought that snake into the school, and you used it to try to kill Malfoy. I should kill you on general principle, since I don’t trust either of you to behave yourselves. You brought a Dark creature into Hogwarts, and tried to kill another student, so maybe killing you two is the only way to keep everyone else safe. I want you to convince me that I’m wrong. Tell me why you did it, and who helped you…and I might feel a little more generous about letting you live to see tomorrow.”

Nott wriggled helplessly, saying nothing, while Zabini spouted a string of curses and spat at Harry.

“Fuck you! You’re a loon, Potter…and no one would believe you. You wouldn’t dare do anything to us, or they’ll put you away!”

“Wrong answer!” Harry punched Zabini in the nose as hard as he could, rather enjoying the satisfying crunch of cartilage that followed. Zabini howled while he swung backwards from the blow, and blood bubbled out of his nose, as well as from his mouth. Since he was hanging upside down, his howls were quickly drowned out by coughing and spitting as he tried to expel the blood that flowed into his mouth. Nott stopped struggling entirely and just hung there, wide eyed and amazed. No one had ever seen Potter act this cold blooded before.

“I have my own ways of finding out what I want to know. I found you two, and I took you out of your dorm with no one the wiser. I can do that anytime I want…so think about that before you piss me off! Tell me what you know…and tell it to me now…or I swear I’ll use you two as punching bags all night long, and if I’m not content when the sun comes up, I’ll dump your fucking corpses in the Forbidden Forest and let the crows takes care of the rest! How about you, Nott? Is there anything you want to say?” Harry let his broom float closer to Theo, and cracked his knuckles menacingly.

Theo Nott was fighting back tears, but screwed his face up tight and shook his head no, even though he looked scared as hell. Harry grabbed his head and swung him backwards into the structure he hung from. His head cracked hard against the metal, and Nott cried out, whimpering in pain as he swayed back and forth beneath the hoop. Harry moved back to Zabini.

“I’m the fucking Chosen One, Zabini. That doesn’t mean I’m stupid…and it doesn’t mean I’m soft! I’m the one who’s going to kill Voldemort, and no court will even touch me until that’s done. As long as I don’t leave a mess they can track to me, no one will even care if a couple more people disappear in this war. It happens all the time. You overestimate your own importance…and you really underestimate my fucking patience. This isn’t school…this is war, and I’ll kill you if I have to.”

Zabini was still spluttering while Harry held his arm to keep him still, and proceeded to punch him in the stomach repeatedly, stopping only when Zabini involuntarily began to vomit, letting strings of bile and blood spill to the earth below. Nott started to cry loudly, while Zabini began to gag, choking on the fluids that were filling his throat and sinuses.

“You know a man can drown in his own blood or vomit? It’s true. You’ll find out very shortly if you don’t start spilling something I want to hear. Who gave you the snake? Why did you use it on Malfoy? NOW TALK, FUCKER!”

Harry drifted over to Nott again, watching the tears and snot dripping down Theo’s face while he swung upside down. Zabini was tougher than Harry had guessed, but Theo might be the weak link here. Harry decided to push the last button. He pulled a long knife from his pocket and drifted up to the rope at Theo Nott’s ankles.

“I’m tired of this shit! You fucking murdering scum! Maybe one of you will talk after you watch the other hit the ground and turn into a fucking stain!”

Theo screamed in terror, eyes bulging while Harry started sawing at the rope that bound him. Harry privately prayed that it would work. He knew he couldn’t kill in cold blood, but he was doing his best to make sure that Nott and Zabini didn’t know that!

“NO! PLEASE! I…I can’t tell you. They’ll…they’ll kill us! He’ll kill us if we talk! Please! You can’t do this!”

“Zhut up…fuggin’ zhut up.”

Zabini was reduced to gurgling noises as he tried to interrupt Nott. Harry stopped cutting and floated down to Theo Nott’s face, looking him in the eyes.

“He WHO? He’s going to kill you? What do you think I’M going to do?! Worry…about…me!” Sarcasm dripped from Harry’s voice like venom.

“The Dark Lord,” Nott finally croaked, hanging limply and shaking all the while. “My father set it up. We could join if we passed a test. Malfoy wouldn’t take the Mark, and they wanted him dead for a being a blood traitor. Blaise got the snake from his mum. We snuck it in last week. It was easy, the detection spells just slide off it. I didn’t want to…you have to believe me. My father wanted me to do it. Fuck! FUCK! You have to protect us! They’ll kill us for what I told you…I’m fucking dead. I’m dead. I’m dead! I’M FUCKING DEAD!”

Theo was losing it completely, and Harry pulled the knife away, mulling over what to say next. He had what he needed to know, now he had to clean up the mess and cover all this up. Zabini interrupted again, having finally spat out enough to speak.

“Fuggin’ coward! Shit! Stupid fuggin’-”

Harry’s fist smashed into Zabini’s nose, leaving Zabini rocking back and forth while he dripped blood and howled.

“SHUT THE FUCK UP! He just saved both your lives! I’m the best chance you’ve got of seeing the end of the year…but you’ll owe me!”

Harry rattled off some Healing Charms, leaving most of the lesser bruises intact, then cast Levicorpus on each of them. He cut the ropes loose and towed them to the ground like a pair of battered, human shaped balloons. On the way down, he pieced together a way to put a stop to this once and for all.

“Voldemort can’t touch you here. Let me worry about him. Here’s my price. From now on, you’re Draco’s guardians! Forget Crabbe and Goyle, you two will watch out for him day and night. Wanna know why? Because, if so much as one thing happens to Malfoy, I’ll look for you first! If he gets so much as a hangnail, I’ll hex you until St. Mungo’s needs a new ward! If he breaks a leg, I’ll cut both of yours off! If Voldemort pops up and AK’s him, I’ll make sure you two snuff it before I even go looking for that withered fuck! ARE WE CLEAR!”

Nott and Zabini nodded miserably, laying on the soft sand of the pitch, gasping for breath. Even Zabini’s angry glare had lessened into one of wary, if hateful, respect. Harry continued.

“The best advice I can give you is this. Talk to Dumbledore. Voldemort is shit scared of Dumbledore, and with good reason. He can protect you here, and I’ll deal with Voldemort in my own time. Maybe you don’t like that option, but I can tell you that it will work. Liking it has nothing to do with the matter. If you want to live to see the end of the war, do it! Just one thing…don’t ever let me catch you even thinking about hurting or killing another person here again. I’m not hiding from Voldemort…he’s hiding from me! If I ever have a reason to show you why that is, it’ll already be too late for begging!”

Harry walked away from the pitch, still biting back anger and adrenaline, leaving the two Slytherin boys on the empty pitch. How they got back in undetected was their own problem. Harry’s problem was much more complicated.

Now he had to find a way to patch Draco up, body and soul, or he’d never be able to feel the wonderful, giddy heat that came of holding the one he loved again. If he couldn’t heal the damage he’d done, he would never have Draco in his arms again, and his last memories of them would always be of terrifying the one he loved into a state of near complete collapse, and that was a fate Harry would do anything to avoid.

TBC!!