DISCLAIMER ~ I own NOTHING apart from the poem. That poem is MINE!


Chapter One
My Blazing Love For You

The Great Hall was garbed in black, most peculiar for a Christmas feast. The Christmas trees were there, yes, Dumbledore would not deny his students of those, but they too were garbed in black. Black tinsel, black baubles, black candles with black flames. The students always wore black, though the empty colour held a dismal meaning that night on the Eve of Christmas Day.

The past couple of days had been labeled the Nightmare Before Christmas, and rightly so. Almost a year after they had been imprisoned, the Death Eaters had broken free from Azkaban. They had been thrown in at the end of the last year, Draco's fifth year at the Wizarding School. With revenge in their hearts and vile passion in their veins they stormed Hogwarts, and unleashed all their rage and hate. They all escaped under the veil of the night. All but one.

A single body lay lifeless upon the cruel flags of the Entrance Hall; a look of untainted malice lightly laced with surprise set upon his face. His long pale hair was spread about his head, creating an unsuited halo. At the centre of the halo was a red patch, where the wizard's head had been dashed to the ground. All around him was a crowd of shocked and horrified pupils. Harry Potter stood like a statue of ice, with his wand raised and his chest heaving, looking down upon the dead man.

Someone at the back was struggling, trying to reach the front. He sounded frantic.

'Let me through! Get out of my way, idiot! What -'

Draco Malfoy halted abruptly. His silvery blue eyes widen in distress and dismay. There was no colour to leave his cheeks. He stared upon the face he knew so well, hated yet loved and uttered one word.


That was all yesterday. Draco insisted that his father should be packed into a coffin immediately, without fuss, and buried in the school grounds. A slight uproar was caused, but it was, as always, put right again by Professor Dumbledore. Now the coffin lay on a table in front of the staffs' own table in the Great Hall, facing straight down the centre of the two middle tables of the students, pointing at the great oaken doors. The teachers looked down at the coffin, for their table was upon a podium, so they had an excellent view of all that happened in the hall. Dumbledore glanced over at young Potter, who sat betwixt his faithful friends Ron Weasley and Hermione Granger. He looked pale and distraught. The Headmaster turned and fixed his gaze once again upon the doors at the far end. Draco Malfoy was late.

Inside the Slytherin Common Room, within his bedroom, or the small corner of the dorm where his bed was that he had sectioned off from the rest with thick silencing curtains, Draco was staring hard at the mirror. He knew he was late. He knew he was to give a small speech, but his stomach was writhing. He had not eaten since he saw his father lying there. His usually attractive face was gaunt, sickly white and contorted with such grief. His thick platinum blonde hair was liberated from the customary gel and hung limply in a ragged style over his forehead and around his face. It wasn't very long, but he decided he would get it cut.

He closed his eyes, feeling so hollow and yet so free. Without his father there would be no more shouting and insults, and no more looks of disgust. Without his father he was stuck. He was young and he needed a father to look up to, even though Draco knew the man was terrible. He let out a shaky sigh. He looked at his notes that were held in his trembling hands and took a deep breath before making his way to the Hall.

Every single pair of eyes turned and latched upon the huge doors, as they swung wide open. Then every eye left the doors and latched onto Draco. They all noticed how dreadful he looked, how thin and somewhat ill he looked. He walked hastily towards the coffin, without his well-known stagger. He stepped up behind his father in the death box and glanced at all the faces, many showing great pity. Draco longed to shout out, to scream, 'HOW DARE YOU PITY ME! YOU DON'T LOVE ME!' but resisted and cleared his throat.

'Well, I-I would just like to say -' he paused and inhaled deeply, '- I would just like to s-say a few words on - on behalf of my father.

'I know he was terrible. You all knew him as the heartless murderer and hater of all muggles and mudbl- muggleborns. But he was my father, and that's how I knew him. That is how I see him. I loved him for who he was - my father - and I hated him for what he was - a Death Eater. I loved him when he loved me. I loved him when he hated me. I know what my friends think of him, and I know what the rest of you think of him. Now you have a rough I idea of what I think of him. But what I want to say could not take form in ordinary words, so I have written a poem.'

Draco sniffed loudly and looked to his notes in order to hide his face. Every single person in that Hall could feel the beginnings of that tight knot in their throat. Pansy bit her lip as she saw a tear glistening on Draco's cheek, the cheek of the one who would never love her how she loved him. At the Gryffindor table Hermione shed her own single tear, and placed a gentle hand on Harry's shoulder as he buried his face in his hands. 'So, um, this is how it goes. It's called My Blazing Love For You.'

Bolt the door and shut the blind

Smash the glass to pieces

There is no more love for me to find

Kill the joy and paint the rainbow grey

I think that happiness is extinct

Or gone to live in a place far away

Again Draco sniffed. All the girls had tears in their eyes and all the boys bit their knuckles to stop the tears in their eyes.

I gave you my eternal love

I hope you gave me yours

Tie a black ribbon around the neck of a dove

I want to stay with those I love forever

I'll adore them to their graves

I want to send away the others

And I'll hate them to their graves

Harry hid his face in his arms on the table, remorse and confusion sweeping through him. Hermione struggled to constrain her sobs. Ron stared at his hands and bit his lip.

All that shines must go so crack the sun

Shatter the moon; blot out all the stars

Send the lights down into Hell, each and every one

I do not need them

For you were all that shone to me

My sun my moon, my dawn and noon

My stars so bright, my day and night

My joys my sorrows, and all my tomorrows

My work and rest, my worst and best

I love you

Draco had to stop as his voice cracked. Many tears were let go at the sight of the mournful wreck at the head of the coffin, but Draco bit his lip, tasting his flowing tears and valiantly ploughed on.

I love you when you love me

I love you when you hate me

No one can take away that blaze in my heart

The blaze that burnt when we were together

The blaze that burns now that we are apart

My blazing love that will never die

My blazing love for you

Sobbing, yet trying so hard to hide it, Draco gathered his notes and ran for all he was worth, out those doors and through the Entrance Hall, almost tripping over Mrs. Norris. He pulled open the colossal doors that led outside and was hit by a gust of spiteful, cold wind. Snowflakes swept in then fell to the floor to melt as the doors were closed again. Draco made his crunching was over the deep snow, to where he did not know. He was sobbing uncontrollably now, but he did not care. If anybody was about they wouldn't be able to hear or see him through the loud and thick curtains of swirling snow and roaring wind.

Suddenly he heard a crack and he felt the shocking freeze of cold water as it seeped into his shoe. He had reached the lake that had a think layer of ice over it. Draco could barely see a three feet in front of him because so much snow was falling. He let his notes go and watched them twirl and dance with the snowflakes until he could see them no more. He felt cold. Very much on the outside and even more on the inside.

He wanted to die, which, he thought, I probably will in this weather. He wanted to be with his father. Right there and then. He wanted to be six years old again; all snuggled up between his mother and father in bed, trying but failing to go to sleep, wondering what he was going to receive from under the Christmas tree the next day. He always did that on Christmas Eve, though as his body began to change he felt awkward and his mother slept in the middle, in-between her two favourite men, her husband and her son. Draco smiled. He still had his mother. She was cold and harsh but it was only him and Lucius that had seen her soft and loving side, and they both knew that side only made an appearance when they were there.

Still thinking of his beautiful mother, Draco drifted off into unconsciousness, not caring if he woke up in the morning upon the snow, or somewhere in the afterlife.

AN: Blimey, never thought I'd ever be writing fanfic. Review if you want, to hell with it FLAME me if you want just tell me what you thought. And tell me if I should carry on with it, but beware, if enough of you feel like I should carry on with it I have no idea what - okay maybe I *do* know. I'll get our dearest Hermy and Draco together. How bland. (By the way that was my first fanfic so be nice, not my first story but yes, my first fanfic).