The Heat That Sears

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 Sears…….by Samayel


Harry woke, uncomfortable as hell, in the chair beside Draco’s bed. It was quite dark, and his eyes needed a minute to adjust while he blinked in sleepy confusion and rubbed at them. The past night came back to him suddenly, and his heart ached, sorry to be reminded of the troubles laid upon it. Harry sighed heavily, and heard the rustle of sheets next to him.

Blinking owlishly, Harry could make out Draco’s form, bundled in blankets, leaning against the farthest corner of the bed from Harry, just staring at him speculatively. Wide awake. He wondered if Draco was lucid yet, and risked a few words.

“Hey. I missed you. I just-” Draco cut him off with a hoarse voice, but at least his tone was lucid.

“Why?”

“What?” He wasn’t sure what Draco was asking about.

“If you aren’t here to…why are you here?” Draco didn’t budge, safely cocooned in blankets, looking nervous and curious at the same time.

“You need to eat. You’ve been in here for almost five days, Draco. People are worried. I wanted to see if I could help.”

“Oh.” Draco’s eyes flicked nervously down.

“Draco…I meant it when I said I was sorry. I didn’t even know what I was doing…I-”

“Don’t. Just don’t, Harry.” Draco’s voice was soft and relatively calm, but a certain tension was almost palpable. “It wasn’t your fault. Magic is like that…sometimes. Anyone could wind up holding onto a force bigger than they are. Happens all the time. Just…just forget about it.”

Harry braved another question. “I don’t even understand what happened. Really. Why did you…react that way when I…spoke Parseltongue?” Left unspoken was the way he had used Parseltongue, nearly coercing a scarcely conscious Draco into complete submission.

Draco ran a hand through his lank hair, and resigned himself to explanation. “It’s a pureblood thing. You wouldn’t understand. Only the oldest houses, the ones that have been steeped in magic for more than a millennium, are affected that way. Parseltongue is the language of power. The oldest language of wizards. Most of us can’t speak it, or understand snakes, but we respond to it when we hear it. Why do you think so many old families went over to The Dark Lord right off.”

Harry shook his head in surprise, this was all new to him, and it begged other questions. “Why didn’t you go over to Voldemort then? I know he was the one who ordered your death, and that the snake was supposed to do it. Why not serve him instead of risking death?”

Draco snorted derision. “Good question! You really wanna know the answer to that, Potter? Think you can you handle it?”

Harry heard anger in Draco’s tired voice, and he set his jaw to keep from responding to it. Draco needed to get these things out, and letting himself be driven off by Draco’s attitude wouldn’t help. He knew now that Draco pushed people away as a test, to see if they really cared of if they cared only when it was convenient. He wouldn’t fail that test. He nodded assent, looking Draco in the eyes.

“My father took me to a Dark revel. Just once. I was too young to be marked, and the Dark Lord had just returned. My father was the proudest man I’ve ever known, but when the Dark Lord spoke in Parseltongue, my father groveled on the ground like a commoner, and I was right beside him. As soon as it was over, I made excuses to avoid other meetings. When it was my choice, and my father was sent to Azkaban, I warded the manor off and refused the Mark. I didn’t ever want to feel that way again. Of course, that didn’t do much good, since the only other Parselmouth in existence wound up closer to me than planned.”

Unspoken again, was the depth to which the encounter with Harry and the serpent had frightened him, but Harry was too ashamed to push the subject further.

“You sound better. Last night…you were…kind of ‘out of it’.” Harry couldn’t push the memories of Draco’s tearful submission out of his mind. It was impossible to look Draco in the eyes whenever that memory played through his thoughts. “I’m so sorry about that. I didn’t know I’d…hurt you that much. I’d never have come if I’d thought that it would upset you like that.”

Draco looked indignant for a moment, not liking the implication that he could be hurt, but there was no hiding his condition the last few days. Draco’s frown slid away slowly, replaced by an expression that hinted at deep thought. After a pregnant pause in their conversation, he surprised Harry pleasantly. “I’m glad you came.”

“Last night…I hadn’t taken my Calming Potion. Snape brought me some a couple days ago. Extra strength. I…I have anxiety attacks…when I get too stressed. I thought you’d show up sometime, just not that late. I kind of panicked when you showed up. I…haven’t been sleeping well…or eating much. Makes me kind of dizzy. I meant it when I said that wasn’t your fault. I know you didn’t know. But…Harry, about the wizard’s debt…I want to talk about that.”

Harry was amenable to any subject that Draco wanted, as long as it kept him talking, then it hit him. Draco was pushing things away, changing the subject, like he’d done for too many other things. He needed to keep some pressure on Draco, but how much was too much? Again, he remembered that the skill of a professional might be called for, and he just didn’t have that.

“Draco, what did you mean last night…about the life debt? Did you think that I’d…that I’d really-”

“Don’t tell me you never heard of one? You saved my life. It’s the most ancient of magical traditions. Wizards are few, when one saves another, it creates a sacred obligation. Harry, I owe you my life. Once you set the terms, I have to meet them. No matter what they are. I…I thought…you wanted…”

Harry scowled. “How could you think that…about me? Do you really think that’s all I’d care about?”

Draco hung his head a moment, then whispered. “No. Not really. I was afraid, because I knew you wanted that someday, and…and because of what you did…after the snake. I don’t know…I was wrong.”

Harry tread carefully. Draco might be talking, but there was something fragile in his voice, and an air about him as if he were some spun glass ornament, ready to break into a million pieces if handled with less than the greatest care.

He leaned forward on the chair, elbows on his knees and rested his head on his steepled hands.

“I don’t care about ‘that‘. Not really. I might never have cared about that…if I could have held your hand. Or walked around the lake with you, or just kissed you when I wanted to show you how I felt. The rest…that didn’t really mean so much.”

Draco leaned his head back against the wall and sighed. “I don’t think we should see each other anymore, Harry. I owe you a wizard’s debt, and I’ll pay it as you see fit, but after that…I’m just not sure. I…” Draco sucked in a breath of air and held closed his eyes a moment. “I don’t know if I can give you those things, Harry. Some of them, maybe, I even thought about it…then. You deserve it all, no conditions, and I don’t know if I could ever make it that far.”

Harry stared at the floor for a minute, trying to keep his calm, knowing that Draco’s words echoed his own fears about what might ever be possible between them.

“I know. Doesn’t mean I can’t try to help, though, does it? I’ll have to think about the life debt, but I’d never ask anything of you that…that…well, nothing like last night would ever happen! I wouldn’t do that to you, I promise.”

Draco nodded quietly, and he looked a little more at ease. “By the way. I’m not blind or deaf in here. Zabini and Nott show up looking like they were trapped under a stampede of centaurs, and now they’re hovering over me like a set of mother hens. Care to tell me why that is?”

Harry blushed furiously and found himself hemming and hawing before he could speak. The way he’d felt that night was so different from his current circumstances. It was hard to splice two lives together, one being The Boy Who Lived comfortably with death and danger, the other being Harry Potter, who never knew what to say most of the time.

“I…uh…well. Damn. I kind of convinced them. They brought that snake into the school. I just had a ‘discussion’ with them about what was appropriate behavior at Hogwarts. They saw my point, and…um…now they’re trying to make it up to you. Nothing all that serious…really.”

Harry tried not look Draco in the eyes. His flaming cheeks were already enough to give away that there was quite a bit more than he was saying. Draco’s smirk made a pleasant reappearance.

“Uh-huh. I see. So the rumors about them being kidnapped in the middle of the night, in spite of being in a locked and warded room, in the middle of Slytherin’s dorm, and being found bound, bloody and nearly naked on the Quidditch pitch…those were just exaggerations, right?”

“Well…maybe…but…well-” Draco cut him off.

“Thank you. I know why you did it. Nicely done, too, just so you know. I approve. You really should have been a Slytherin. Nott should have been kicked over to Hufflepuff. He was never cut out for that kind of thing, no matter what his father thinks. Now that I know it’s ‘taken care of’, I don’t see any need to follow up on the matter myself. Frankly, I’m just too tired to deal with it anyway.”

Harry sighed relief. At least that topic was closed. The mention of Draco’s exhaustion set his mind to work again. Draco needed to eat, and Harry had every intention of getting him to do so, short of using actual violence.

“You’re exhausted because you’re half starved. You need to eat, Draco. You belong out there, and this can’t last forever. Snape will take you out of here and drop you in the hospital ward if you don’t start getting around again. I can get some breakfast from the elf staff if you want?”

Draco seemed pensive for a moment, then the liveliness he‘d shown slipped away, and he slumped back onto his pillows. His voice was softer when he spoke again.

“Harry. I talked to Snape. He made the potions for me after he…after I talked to him about some things. I’m just tired, Harry. I don’t want to go out there yet. Don’t you get it? Look at me. Think about how we’re talking right now. Do I seem like my usual self? At all? Well, do I?”

“Well, I think it’s good that you’re talking to me like this. You seem different…more open. I like it. I think it’s healthy, Draco.”

“Bullshit. You obviously don’t get it! I’m a Slytherin. I’m supposed to have a certain distance from everything. I’m supposed to have a mask in place that people can’t see through. I’m supposed to think before I talk or act. I…I just can’t…do it. Not yet. I’m not ready for that yet. Snape understands.”

Harry hadn’t thought of things that way before. Slytherin was still, in many ways, a house of mysteries to him, no matter how much time he’d spent around Draco the last few months. It made sense. Draco had been shaken up so badly by near death, near violation, and memories of things he’d never shared, that he couldn’t make himself aloof anymore. Without the ability to control himself in public, he’d humiliate himself eventually, and that was a blow to an already fragile ego that Draco just didn’t need.

Harry nodded acceptance and Draco’s bristling irritation faded a little. There was one topic yet un-broached. The hardest one of all. Harry called for Dobby, hoping that food would take the edge of his fear of pushing Draco too far. The house-elf appeared with a soft crack of Apparition.

“Master Harry, sir! How can Dobby serve you!” Dobby’s smile and wide eyed cheerfulness were a refreshing change from the grim tension that had been hanging over them. Draco watched the proceedings with almost clinical disinterest.

“Dobby, we could use some breakfast right here today. Could you check with the kitchen elves and bring a tray of Draco’s favorites? I might be here awhile, so, if you could pass the word to Ron that I’ll be late for class, I’d appreciate it very much.”

Dobby capered about happily. “Oh! Anything for our Master Harry! Dobby can do these things easily! Right away!” With another muted crack, the house elf was gone.

Draco huffed indignantly. “Really, Potter! You’re not my mum! I’ll eat when I’m ready, and how is it that you’re so tight with the elf staff? Harry Potter can order breakfast whenever and wherever he wants? How does that work?”

“Treat them like human beings who have actual feelings. You’d be surprised how often that gets results. I’d suggest that for humans, too, but I’m going to assume you already know that. We’re lucky to have house-elves that look after us, showing a little appreciation for them doesn’t cost a thing, and it certainly makes them happy.”

Harry bristled a little, reminded that Draco was a product of the wizarding world’s uppermost class, and behaved like one most of the time. His disregard for those that served him was one of those traits that Harry would never see eye to eye with.

Draco shrugged, non-committal, and dismissed the subject entirely. It was infuriating, but pure Draco. “How long you planning to stay? It’s a few hours ‘til classes start. Snape will be here, soon, bringing a fresh potion for me. I’d strongly suggest not being here when he arrives.”

Harry smiled an almost Slytherin smile, and answered matter of factly. “I’ll leave when I’ve seen you eat a decent breakfast. That’s why I asked Dobby to let Ron know I’d be late. I know how stubborn you are. You will feel better with food in you, and I’m not afraid of Snape, so it looks like it’s eat or tolerate my presence forever.”

Draco, glancing away distractedly, muttered, “That’s not much of a threat.”

There was a compliment hidden in Draco’s complaint that Harry recognized instantly. Hearing that Draco found his company acceptable made his heart leap giddily. He could only barely contain the urge to smile, when Dobby popped back into the room, bearing a tray of food almost the size of his own body. Draco gaped at it, horrified by the amount of food that Harry supposedly expected him to eat.

“You’re bloody taking the piss! I can’t eat all that! I’ll never be rid of your insipid Gryffindor arse!”

“Easy, easy! Some of that is for me, I’m starving! You just have to eat enough to support a human life and I’ll be content.”

“Oh. Alright then. I…I think I can deal with that. I’m not very hungry, though. Are those éclairs?” Harry suppressed another smile.

“I asked for your favorites, didn’t I?”

Draco snorted, attempting to feign complete disdain. His eyes, however, betrayed him completely, as they kept flicking back to the tray that had been placed on his bed. Dobby popped away with a hasty bow and was gone. The food sat between them, and Harry tucked into the eggs and sausages with gusto, loudly smacking his lips and deliberately making noises of enjoyment.

Draco managed to maintain his air of disaffectedness for approximately two bites of éclair, at which point all pretense was lost.

It became a bit of a free for all after that, and Draco made use of the silverware that been politely left, and began filling his face, every so often looking irritably at Harry’s smile, and cursing under his breath.

“Fuck you, Potter. Gloating looks terrible on Gryffindors. Wipe that smile off your face, it’s ruining my appetite.”

Harry paused from a mouthful of eggs and sausage. “I don’t know, but it looks more like your appetite is ruining that tray.”

There was something very comforting about Draco’s off-hand manner returning. It set Harry at ease, implying that Draco really was feeling better, and the searing realization that his presence was welcome did a lot to soothe the fears he had the night before. The previous night had burned itself into Harry’s brain immortally. He’d never seen a human being so broken inside, and even the memory of what he’d seen made him flinch, but Draco seemed in control of himself again, at least partially, and Harry rejoiced privately that the damage he’d unwittingly inflicted had been forgiven.

Between them, the devoured the tray of food in relative silence, only a few comments interrupting their meal. Draco laid back contently, rubbing his stomach, which had distended slightly from gorging himself, until he pulled his sheet up a bit self consciously. Harry chuckled and Draco bristled a little.

“Bite me. It’s been a hard week. I ate, I feel better, so I hope you’re happy.” Draco sighed. “We need to talk about the wizard debt, Harry. You can’t let something like that just hang. It’s powerful magic…old…and it demands being settled. Have you thought about it all? Because it needs to be settled on and agreed to before the full moon. You have to set the terms, and then I have to meet them. I have to do what’s been commanded of me, until my task is complete. It’s too important to put off, so at least throw some ideas my way.”

Harry had thought about it while they ate, even though he hadn’t mentioned it. There were so many possibilities, with a debt like that hanging over someone else’s head. So many ways a person could command the fulfillment of their own desires. The temptation was there, just beneath the surface of Harry’s thoughts. He could feel the niggling offer of power over Draco, almost implied by Draco’s own words, as if Draco were subconsciously flirting with his own fears. He could rationalize asking for anything he wanted, make it sound reasonable, make it pleasurable for Draco as well as himself.

He made his choice. Draco probably wouldn’t like it, but what Draco liked or disliked had nothing to do with what Draco needed, and what Draco needed was someone who better knew how to counsel Draco through his past hurts.

“I’m going to ask…”

Draco’s chin lifted, and he stared at Harry intensely, making it hard to concentrate while nervous gray eyes searched him for intent.

“I want you to seek out someone you trust, someone who would be able to help you. And I want you to talk to them, about you, about what happened this past week, even about the past few months.”

Draco’s gaze was full of questions, and his brow wrinkled with concentration as he tried to puzzle out where Harry was going with this. Harry kept going, approaching the topic he knew was more taboo than any other.

“I want you to talk about all of that to them, and tell them honestly how you feel about it. And I want you to talk about Flint.”

Harry saw the change come across Draco like the shadows of clouds moving across a field. Draco blanched, wide-eyed, mouth opening and closing in shock and surprise.

“How…how the fuck?! You…you don’t…what do you know about Flint?” Draco spluttered helplessly. Harry knew things had gone pear shaped already, but he’d made up his mind. He could see Draco’s hands trembling

“I doesn’t matter what I know or don’t know. You need to work those things out with someone who knows what they’re doing. That’s my command, and that’s what I want. The debt will be discharged when they feel you’ve worked through everything you need to.”

Draco had started to hyperventilate, wide eyed and almost hysterical. Harry had let himself be lulled into false security by Draco‘s pleasant demeanor that morning, and hadn’t realized that Draco might well relapse under too much pressure.

“How fucking dare you! That’s none of your fucking business, Potter! Fuck you and what you think you know! Get out! Get out of here! Get out of my face and go back to Gryffindor!”

He was reaching with shaky hands for the potion bottle beside the bed, and Harry leaned forward to get it for, trying to make some tiny peace offering, even though he had no intention of changing his conditions.

Draco shoved the tray and silverware at him, letting them clatter to the floor after bouncing off Harry’s legs.

“Fuck you! You…you perfect shit! You have no right! No…no right! Just go away!”
Draco paused to gulp the potion down as quickly as possible, then wiped the tears that were forming out of his eyes, glaring at Harry furiously.

Harry tried to lean forward, just to speak more intimately, not meaning any harm by it, and Draco flinched, backing away to the corner of the bed, pulling his blankets up and drawing his wand! His wand point trembled violently, but remained aloft, and Harry backed away.

“DON’T YOU FUCKING TOUCH ME! GET OUT! YOU DON’T KNOW ANYTHING! GET OUT OR I SWEAR I’LL FUCKING HEX YOU! I HATE YOU, YOU FUCKING BASTARD!”

It made his stomach sick to see Draco like this, especially after coming so far in one morning, but he could tell that staying would lead to disaster. Draco was out of control, even with the potion, and he’d touched a nerve too raw for safe contact. There was nothing left to do but bite back his own tears and go.

Harry moved to the door, slouched with shame while he heard Draco’s gasping panic breaths behind him, and as he opened the door, he turned back and spoke one last time.

“I’m sorry. Believe me I’m sorry, but I want you to get well more than I want your friendship, so my command stands. That’s your debt. It’s yours to pay. Goodbye.” He shut the door behind him and upped the wards on it carefully, leaving Draco secure in his room, but he could still hear cries of incoherent rage from behind the wood and stone, and every syllable of anguish was a dagger in his chest.

Harry turned to leave, and found himself staring at Severus Snape, whose scowl of disapproval was legendary, and whose countenance suggested that he was fighting the urge to curse Harry right on the spot. This was decidedly NOT a good start to the day, but it was already a right shit of a morning, so why not compound it with a dash of Snape’s outrage?

“Potter! My office…now! Wait until I arrive! We will discuss the matter of you wandering around in MY…HOUSE, when I get there.” Snape’s teeth were gritted, except for when he yelled, and Harry scooted off, ignoring the shocked glances from other Slytherin students in the common room as he left Slytherin’s dorms behind.

He’d been in Snape’s office for twenty minutes when the professor returned, slamming the door behind him and stomping to his desk, barely contained fury radiating outward from every pore.

“Sir, I…”

“SILENCE! There is nothing you need say, Potter! Any statement from you is pure drivel, an airborne menace, and little more than audible flatulence. Fifty points from Gryffindor for being in Slytherin House without my express permission! Ten points from Gryffindor for upsetting Mr. Malfoy! Two weeks of detentions for being out past curfew!

You think that rules don’t apply to you, but they most assuredly do! Don’t think I’m ignorant of your part in all this, Potter! Zabini and Nott refuse to speak about it, but I can feel your hand in that as well! Draco won’t discuss the details of his collapse, but I’m well aware that you had a part in that, too! Everywhere I turn, I find your fingerprints on some sort of chaos that winds up requiring my involvement! Your little ‘reign of terror’ is over as of now!”

Harry had endured just about enough for any week, much less one morning. He hadn’t dared vent his frustration on Draco, who was in no condition to deal with Harry’s anger, but Snape was fair game.

“I don’t even know why they let you teach! I’m the least of your problems! When your so-called charges aren’t planning murders for the Dark Lord, they’re busy tearing apart every one else within reach! If you actually bothered to run that house, you would’ve noticed that a fucking sick bastard like Flint was molesting the other children you’re supposed to be looking after! If it were up to me, I’d have had your ass fired and run out of Hogwarts while the students threw rocks at you!”

Snape was crimson, eyes bloodshot with rage, and his wand was in his hand before Harry even saw it coming.

“LEGILIMENS!”

Harry tried to fight it off, but Snape was still the better at Occlumency and Legilimency. Fueled by rage, Harry couldn’t keep him from peeling through his memories, sifting for the truth behind Harry’s outrage. He could feel the searing, angry presence in his skull, rudely shoving non-essential or irrelevant memories aside, and lingering hotly on the ones that mattered.

Snape finally let go, and Harry collapsed to the floor, head pounding in agony while he tried to keep himself from throwing up his recent breakfast. Snape himself was seated again, scowling furiously, looking contemplative, albeit disturbed, and he remained silent while Harry collected himself.

Harry pushed himself to his feet, glaring at the man at the desk, chin pointed defiantly, knowing that Snape had seen the truth, and couldn’t bend all of it to fit his mood. Harry’s eyes accused him, even while he bit his tongue and waited for Snape to speak.

Snape never looked up from the paperwork on the desk, and his voice was level, if somewhat bitter.

“Mr. Potter. Fifty points to Gryffindor for preventing the assassination of another student, and for ensuring for his future safety…creatively. Your detentions will be considered served. The ten remaining points will stay, for speaking inappropriately to a member of Hogwarts' staff, and for being where you have no business, in defiance of school and house rules. That is all. Now go where you belong…for once!”

Harry turned on his heel and headed for the door, face flaming with indignation at having been Legilimized, but satisfied that Snape had been forced to admit himself wrong. He was interrupted just before he turned the handle.

“Potter. Had I been made aware of what transpired with Mr. Flint…and it is I who was remiss for not having caught it then…what you committed upon the persons of Zabini and Nott, would have looked like a schoolyard squabble before I was finished. I shall deal with the matter henceforth. I shall also see to Draco’s well being. There is nothing more you can do at this point. I ask you to leave him to me until, and if, he wishes to contact you. You are dismissed.”

Harry bit back the urge to retort hotly, and simply stepped out the door and left. It might be a long time before the knots in Draco’s head were unraveled, but whatever it had cost, he had started the process of healing that Draco needed. Now he just had to live with the consequences, and that hurt more than he could have imagined.

TBC!!!