sparks~drarry

Wildfire

Description: A prologue to Constellations, in which Draco contemplates Harry and his' relationship that moment between life and death

Song: Bittersweet Tragedy by Melanie Martinez (yes, again, but this was the best song I could come up with)

Notes: I think the next couple oneshots I'm going to write are going to be a lot like Constellations in length and in style, since my creativity and writing inspiration has been drained from trying to deal with writing things for school, a novel, and the four parts for Blue Girls Don't Cry and Neither Do Guys.

Length: 700 words
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Draco's POV

Hot like fire. That's the only way to describe his lips against mine, and the way he looks at me whenever my bare my teeth as if to devour him. That's what I feel against my skin at the moment, a fire the color of dawn wreathing my skin like a halo. Around me, men and women in masks of bone and Hogwarts robes are frozen in time, their faces caught in ones of pure terror and morbid delight.

When I let my gaze drift to the left, I find Harry's emerald eyes flashing with both intense protectiveness and quick fear, like dancing lightning. Thunder is what those emotions are, like a tempest above an ocean, so fierce and ferocious it sends prickling chills down my spine.

When I look down, I find my chest to be engulfed with poison green. I should be panicked. If this were a book, I would let out a bloodcurdling scream and crumble to the ground, but this is not a book. So I stay still and quiet.

The silence and stillness is peculiar, but not frightening, I find, as I move from my position by Harry's side to stand in front of him. His brows are set gorgeously into an expression of determination that belongs to a Slytherin, and those plump lips are pressed into a line so thin they're white instead of their normal brown. Like I was, he is surrounded by a combination of our blood and lightning magic, lit by power the color of the sunrise. However, at the edges, white disappears like smoke as I do as well.

I brush my fingers across his cheek, bristly with a five o'clock shadow, then move away slowly, towards a spot where my parents stand back to back.

I smile sadly. Oh, my parents. My mother, I'm surprised she was ever placed in Slytherin. She's a delicate soul, soft like satin, and probably would be fighting on the other side of battlefield if her thoughts had rung true. My father, however, seems to not belong in the Slytherin he was once placed in, but rather somewhere in the Forbidden Forest with snarling wolves and fierce lions. Today, he appears to be more animal than wizard.

I move on. To my surprise, when I turn towards the Hogwarts students, I find Pansy and Blaise fighting against a Death Eater, their wands raised and their eyes flashing. Sorrow pricks my heart like a needle, but still, I move on, until I am within the crumbling castle.

"Draco?" I turn, and my heart quickens.

A glowing figure decked in white and gray stretches his hand towards me, and, to my surprise, I see that he is Albus Dumbledore.

"Professor?" I whisper.

He looks slightly impatient.

"Well, come on then. They can't stay still forever," he says, and offers me a sad but warm smile.

I look back at the battlefield, where I know Blaise and Pansy and Harry and Luna and Neville and Hermione and Ron are fighting fiercely.

"But—But what about Harry?"

His smile grows sadder.

"You can't do much to help him now, my dear boy."

"Can't I go back?"

"I'm afraid not."

Swallowing thickly, I turn back towards him, and unconsciously begin rubbing my wrists, which share Harry's silver and white scars.

"What if he hurts himself?" I ask.

"We can't do anything, but his friends and family can."

"I... I don't want to leave."

"You don't have much of a choice."

A lump growing in my throat, I squeeze my eyes shut, then place my hand in Dumbledore's. At that moment, everything goes dark, and all I see are Harry and I's constellations.