The Sugar Quill
Author: Kirkis  Story: Burning  Chapter: default
The distribution of this story is for personal use only. Any other form of distribution is prohibited without the consent of the author.

Burning - Harry Potter Fanfiction

Harry Potter books, and all characters therein belong to J. K. Rowling, © 2001/2002 Warner bros. In short, they aren't mine, so please don't sue.

A/N - This is my first attempt at a Fanfic from Draco's Point of View, so if it sucks, I'd like to apologize in advance. Special thanks to my Beta reader Seldes Katne, who is so kindly taking time out of her re-read of OotP to beta for me!

By Kirkis

        Draco headed out of the hospital wing as early as possible, muttering a few choice swears as he hurried toward the door. It was bad enough that that hideous Weasley girl had managed a lucky shot and successfully landed her hex on his face, but doting old biddy Pomfrey had held him in the Hospital Wing overnight.

        "The old bat must never have seen any real curses or hexes," he mumbled as he pulled the door open forcefully. "Never seen such a powerful hex" Draco said, mimicking her nasally voice. "I could do ten times as bad as the Weasley girl! She was just lucky I didn't hex her." His mind wandered back over the previous day's events. He sincerely wished Headmistress Umbridge would've let him join her when she had had Granger and Potter lead her to the weapon. No doubt there were Ministry officials swarming at this moment through the Forbidden Forest to learn all they can about it.

        A smile crept back onto his face as he recalled the scene he'd just witnessed before he left the Hospital Wing. Weasley being toted in by that moron Longbottom, whose face was covered in blood; his nose was obviously broken. The Weasley girl was limping along, arm in arm with Loony Lovegood, but the best part was Granger being carried in, unconscious on a stretcher by the Werewolf that had once taught Defense Against the Dark Arts. I wonder if the Headmistress used the weapon on them? he thought. They were all in such terrible shape, like they'd been throttled. Potter, however, was nowhere to be found. Probably got thrown in Azkaban last night, I suppose the Headmistress will chuck out the rest of Potter's riff-raff after Madam Pomfrey has patched them up.

        The sun had risen above the horizon and Draco wanted to get back to the common room. He'd already come up with an excuse for his early morning absence; he'd been up for an hour already looking to take more points off other houses. He knew his roommates wouldn't ask too many questions; after five years of rooming with a Malfoy, they'd better know better. He treaded quickly down the marble staircase and headed through the archway that lead to the Dungeons. Left turn here, then a right, then another right, through the big ugly black door and half way down the corridor.

        "Lineage," he said and the large stone wall slid open to admit him. The common room was almost empty as he strode in. A few second years were huddled in the corner over what looked like this month's copy of Naughty Witch magazine. The only reason Draco might have had to stop them was if he'd wanted the magazine for himself, but as he had every copy for the last three years, he didn't see the point. He strode across the room and stopped a few steps inside the hallway leading to the Boys' Dormitories.

        "Crabbe! Goyle!" he shouted down the hallway. A few seconds later the two beefy forms of Crabbe and Goyle came lumbering out of their dormitory door still in their extra, extra large pajamas and completely ridiculous looking caps. Draco had told them at least two dozen times to get rid of them or he'd tell all the Gryffindors they wore them.

        "Well," he snapped, glaring at them. "Get dressed, you great fat lumps!" He felt a little better watching them stumble at high speed back into their dormitory to put their clothes on. Draco swept back into the common room and headed over to where the second years were crowded around their dirty magazine. Without so much as a word, he reached in and lifted it off the table. Aside from a few gasps, they didn't protest, through they glared at him as he settled himself into a chair. He flipped randomly through the pages while waiting for Crabbe and Goyle, from time to time snickering purposely at the fuming second years.

        A few minutes later, Crabbe and Goyle came trudging back in pink-faced, having dressed in such a rush their clothes were slightly disheveled

        "About time," said Draco glaring up at them; their shirts were not entirely tucked in and the shoelaces on Crabbe's left foot weren't tied. He pitched the copy of Naughty Witch over his shoulder (the second years dived to retrieve it) and rose out of his high-backed chair. He strode past his two dimwitted friends, not stopping to wait for them as he headed straight for the stone door.

        Five minutes later, Draco was heading up out of the dungeons and into the brightly lit entrance hall. Students were flitting in and out of the Great Hall through the double doors. He headed across the entrance hall with every intention of sitting down to a good breakfast, and then heading out into the school to take some more points from Hufflepuff and Ravenclaw (he'd already taken the remainder of Gryffindor's points after being hexed), when he caught sight of a head of vivid red hair coming out of the Great Hall. The Weasley girl, he thought, shunting a group of third years aside to get over to her.

        "Weasley!" he shouted. She stopped and turned toward him, the goofy smile she was wearing quickly twisted into a scowl. If she only had snakes for hair she'd be a Gorgon! Draco thought, pushing aside a Hufflepuff. "Had a last meal, have you? I expect the Headmistress will have you and your sorry brother out of here shortly. Better make an exit like those ogre twins brothers of yours did, otherwise-"

        "What are you going on about, Malfoy?" the Weasley girl snapped.

        "Don't tell me you think you'll be allowed to stay?" He paused to make a purposeful laugh. "After what happened in Professor Umbridge's office yesterday? The moment the Headmistress gets back I'm going to recommend the whole lot of you be expelled, not that she'll need any persuasion to expel you." Draco couldn't believe it, her hideously freckled brow was furrowed in confusion, pushing her screaming red eyebrows together. This was too much, she couldn't honestly expect to be allowed to stay. Not after helping Potter break into the Headmistress' office and hexing a member of the Inquisitorial squad. Draco tilted his head back and laughed loudly. A small crowd of people had stopped to watch.

        "Have you seen The Daily Prophet this morning, Malfoy?" she asked suddenly in a falsely cheerful voice. What's this? Potter get off again? he thought, struggling to keep the smile on his face, he would not lose his cool in front of an enemy, least of all the Weasley girl.

        "Potter make an escape again? Did he get lucky and worm his way out of trouble again?" he asked, forcing the same mock-cheerful tone the Weasley girl was using. She hastened to pull a rolled up copy of The Daily Prophet out of her bag, unfurled it and clearing her throat, read it aloud.

        "Death Eaters captured at Ministry of Magic," she read. The bottom dropped out of Draco's stomach. He bit down hard on his lip to keep from looking too shocked. It doesn't mean anything, he thought as she read on.

        "Ministry officials announced during a rather chaotic moment at the Ministry of Magic that they had captured six of the ten Death Eaters who escaped from Azkaban just four months earlier. Among those captured were Antonin Dolohov, Rodolphus Lestrange, and Rabstan Lestrange. Bellatrix Lestrange remains at large. Most disturbing was the fact that several wizards once cleared of Death Eater activity-" Draco suddenly felt a pang of fear in his gut. Impossible, Father is no fool! he thought, biting down harder on his lip. "-including Walden Macnair, of the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures, Lucius Malfoy-"

        It was the strangest feeling Draco had ever had. It felt like losing a Quidditch match to Potter multiplied by ten thousand. The Weasley girl read on, something about Nott and Goyle, but Draco was barely hearing it. He had to master himself before he made a complete fool of himself. He forced his face into a neutral expression as shame and hate churned violently in his stomach. The rusty taste of blood from the lip he'd bitten clean through filled his mouth. He wanted her to bleed. He wanted to see her writhing in agony instead of standing there reading the stupid Daily Prophet with her big ugly brown eyes staring out of that hideously bespeckled face.

        "Unconfirmed reports suggest a group of five or six students from Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry may have been involved in the recapture. It is also rumored that Harry Potter himself may have led these students. Details are sketchy, but reporters for The Daily Prophet witnessed the Minister of Magic conferring with Renegade Headmaster Albus Dumbledore in the Ministry this morning. A statement made by the spokeswizard for the Minister, Percy Weasley,"

        "That's my brother, by the way," she added, looking up from the paper. Draco would've given all the Galleons in his savings vault to make her suffer horribly right now. His hand longed to reach for his wand, and if she kept reading, he wasn't sure he would be able to control himself much longer. She looked back down at the paper and read on.

        "'The Minister is still trying to sort out all the facts. All we can say at this point is that six escaped Death Eaters have been recaptured along with a number of other alleged Death Eaters, which we are detaining pending an investigation.'"

        The surrounding crowd had gone completely silent as the Weasley girl looked up from the paper, the corners of her mouth twitching as if she were fighting not to laugh. A fresh wave of indignation shot through Draco. He wanted to hurt her, he had to hurt her.

        "Sorry about your father and all," she said in a mock-consoling voice. Draco could feel the heat rising in his face. This pathetic little insolent nothing was taunting him.

        "You little bitch," he whispered, feeling his fists shaking at his sides. "You filthy little Mudblood-loving, blood-traitor bitch!"

        "Temper, Malfoy," said the Weasley girl. "Your father held his much better when he was taken out of the Ministry." Before Draco had realized what he had done, his wand was drawn and pointed straight at her face.

        "CRUC-" he started to roar, but his wand flew from his hand before he could finish the curse. For one infinitely frustrating moment he thought she'd been faster than him again, them he saw that her wand hand was empty while the other was still clutching The Daily Prophet. He had just registered that she was no longer looking at him, when a deep voice cut the silence of the entrance hall.

        "As a prefect, Mr. Malfoy," said Dumbledore firmly from halfway up the marble staircase, "and a member of Professor Umbridge's Inquisitorial squad, you of all people should know that magic is not allowed in the corridors." He had his own wand out in one hand and both Draco's and the Weasley girl's wands in the other. "Miss Weasley, you also know the rules."

        She nodded and said in a very innocent sounding voice, "Yes Professor." For a moment, as he stared up at Dumbledore, shock controlled Draco.

        "What are you doing back?" he asked, wincing internally at just how stupid he must look.

        "The Minister of Magic has seen fit to allow me to return," said Dumbledore as he descended the marble staircase. "He has also given the order for the removal of all Educational decrees. I was just going to retrieve Professor Umbridge from the Forbidden Forest." Dumbledore reached the bottom of the stairs and strode over toward them. "If, when I return, you would like to talk…" he said, putting a hand on Draco's shoulder. Talking to Dumbledore was the last thing Draco wanted, he'd rather talk to Weasley. The torrent of pent up emotion tearing around in Draco was driving him mad. Without even thinking about it, he shook off Dumbledore's hand and shouted straight at his face, "I have nothing to say to you!"

        Dumbledore stared straight at Draco for a moment, and an odd feeling stirred from some strange place inside him, like a twisted knot being untied. It wasn't nearly enough to calm the storm of emotion within him, but in the brief respite, he was at least able to compose himself.

        "I'm sure Professor Snape is available if you'd prefer to talk to him," said Dumbledore. "Miss Weasley," he said turning to the Weasley girl. "Miss Granger is awake, if you'd like to visit her." He handed her back her wand and with a quick "thank you" she ran up the marble staircase. Dumbledore turned toward Draco and gave him back his wand. Draco took it swiftly and shoved it roughly back into his pocket before raising his nose so high that he was able to look down it at Dumbledore. With a slow nod toward Draco, Dumbledore turned and headed slowly toward the front entrance, hindered by scores of students surrounding him and rambling on about how happy they were that he was back and how horrible Professor Umbridge was.

        Draco stood in the center of the entrance hall glaring at Dumbledore's back. Idiotic old Mudblood-lover, he thought, turning and glaring up the marble staircase. The Weasley girl was already out of sight. And the Mudblood-loving, blood-traitor bitch… Draco thought, only just now realizing Crabbe and Goyle were still behind him. She'll be sorry… someday.

        "Lets go!" he muttered turning back toward the cool and quiet solitude of the dungeons, no longer feeling hungry.

        The end

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