Not Just an Empty Emotion

Chapter 20-The Diamond of Fire

Draco stared at him. His heart seemed to have inflated very fast indeed, and was now rendering him unable to breathe.

Potter was staring defiantly back at him, but he was failing to disguise the nerves which engulfed him. Draco looked deep into the green eyes for a second longer and then shut his own. He struggled to take a deep breath. His mind was numb-it had registered one fact: Potter felt the same way. He could barely believe it-the months of worrying that Potter didn't really like him, that their relationship was just a teenage fling...everything that had descended upon him was lifted. He knew, from the look in Potter's eyes that the words had been sincere.

He felt Potter shift uneasily.

Without opening his eyes Draco said, "You meant it." It wasn't a question.

Potter gulped. "I meant it, Malfoy. I don't say things I don't mean. I couldn't remember what you said to me when I was in the Hospital Wing but when we...when you kissed me...I remembered."

Draco opened his eyes. "I meant it, too. I thought...I thought I'd lost you. Promise me that we'll never lose each other..."

"You'll never lose me. I can promise you that. Whatever happens, I'm not letting you go...not now."

"Thank you, Potter..."

"It's my pleasure, Malfoy. Now shut up and kiss me..."
Draco did as he was told. And it felt all the more wonderful because he knew that the kisses meant something-they were real.

*

He walked along in a kind of trance. He was torn between two feelings; half of him was floating on air as he thought of Potter, the other half was becoming concerned about the consequences and effects of being involved in a relationship with another guy...with Harry Potter.

Don't think of that, he told himself sternly. We don't have to face that for a while...just enjoy it for now, until you come to it...

But still he could not shake off his fears; he had always been a natural worrier. And he knew that he and Potter had to be careful now, and all the time...they couldn't take more risks than was necessary...

Well ,SOME risks.... he thought, and he couldn't resist allowing a grin to spread across his face.

Suddenly a powerful hand grabbed hold of his shoulder, spun him round, and smashed him against a wall.

"What the-!" Draco started.

"Where the fuck have you been?"

Draco looked up at the face of the person who was pinning him roughly against the wall; it was Kierre, the Slytherin Quidditch captain. Draco twisted slightly to move himself into a more comfortable position, but was shoved back into an even more painful one.

"I told you, it's personal," Draco snarled.

"And I told you that that isn't good enough! I want answers, Malfoy, and I want them now."

"And why the hell do you think I should tell you?"

"Because I'm your captain and I've got a lot of influence..."

"And so have I, Kierre, and you know it... if it wasn't for me and my father there would be no Slytherin team...You wouldn't dare," Draco said dangerously. He knew Kierre would think twice before he said anything now; Draco's father had his uses, even if he was a bastard.

He was right. Kierre hesitated for a second. He seemed too incensed, however to ponder for too long. "Fuck you, Malfoy. I'm fed up of your bullshit, you can't do this. I want to know where you keep disappearing off to, and why you left my practice early today."

"Too bad then, isn't it, because I'm not going to tell you."

"Tell me!" Kierre yelled angrily, slamming Draco into the wall again as he did so.

Draco bit back a cry of pain. "No way! I've told you before- mind your own business. It's nothing to do with you, it's for me to know, where I go and who I see so get off my case, arsehole."

"I know you've told me that before, but it's not good enough!" Flecks of Kierre's spit flew at Draco. "I want answers!"

"Tough shit, you're not getting them!"

Kierre roared in anger. He tightened his grip on Draco's shoulders and moved closer to him. Draco could smell his stale breath as Kierre began to speak in a low voice.

"You listen to me, Malfoy. You may think you're great because daddy's rich, but believe me, I will find out what you're up to. And I don't care what it takes. I'm not going to leave you alone until I know...and that's a promise."
Draco closed his eyes, trying to ignore the pain. Finally Kierre let him go and turned away again. Draco waited until his had rounded the corner before sinking to the floor shaking. He knew Kierre was no more intelligent than either Crabbe or Goyle, but Kierre was more dangerous than both of them together. Draco knew he would keep that promise...

But how the hell does he know there's something to find out? Draco asked himself. I thought I'd been careful...but then Kierre has always hated me.... I wouldn't put it past him to be watching me...he must have noticed how often I'm going out...and how I'm not talking any more...

Was it his fault? Would the blame lie with him if he and Potter were caught and had to face the terrible consequences? And what exactly would Kierre do when he found out?

He's not going to find out, Draco told himself firmly. I'll make sure of that...

He resolved not to tell Potter about Kierre, he had enough to worry about without that too. He stood up and steadied himself against the wall for a minute.

More to calm himself that anything else he said out loud in a very quiet voice, "Kierre's not my main problem.... as long as I'm careful he won't know anything about it.... my main problem now is when I'm next going to see Potter..."

Besides, if they really were in love then they could stand whatever curses were sent their way...With a slight smile on his lips, despite himself, Draco set off after Kierre back to the Slytheirn common room.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"Hi Harry, come in and sit down. I'll just be a few minutes."

Harry entered Swan's office and dodged around the items on the floor to get to a chair.

"What's it all for?"

Swan looked at him and smiled. "You'll see in a few minutes. Right I think that's done..." She stood up and strode across the room towards him. "Harry, the spell we're going to cast tonight is very powerful. It's not a dark spell, but you couldn't exactly call it light either...tonight, and probably tomorrow as well you're going to feel very weak. You will be particularly susceptible to any legilimency...in other words, any connection between you, Draco and Voldemort will be especially clear tonight. That's not going to be nice so I've got a potion for a dreamless sleep here, which I'll give you before you go. We'll still see what you would've seen though."
Harry nodded. "Who's going to be able to see the connection? Will it be just you, or other people too?"

"It depends. I'll get everything directly, because I'm the one performing the spell. I've got the Book, you see. But if I chose to let someone else see an image, I can allow them access to the Book, too."

"The Book?"
Swan bent down and picked up a heavy green book with a black spine from the floor. It looked very old. "This isn't a common spell, so the Books are rare. There's only four in existence. This one's been in my family for generations. When you, Draco or Voldemort experience the connection what you see will be written here in the Book, word for word. It happens automatically. When I wish to see what you saw all I need to do is read the Book."

"But then how will you be able to see what I see? You could imagine a place to look one way, when in fact it looks another."

"This Book isn't like any other book Harry. When I read what is written in here the book takes over my imagination. It shows me exactly what I need to know."

Harry nodded, but he still didn't understand.

Swan continued. "If you see something, say in the middle of the night you saw Voldemort speaking of his plans, this Book will give me the warning. And even if I'm not in my office, I've already cast a spell that will let me know." She paused. "I think we should start now. Are you ready?"
He nodded mutely.

"Please come and stand in the middle of the Diamond, Harry. He did as he was told. On the floor was a roughly drawn line which glowed bright blue. At two of the four points of the Diamond there were dark objects Harry couldn't make out. In the centre was a small raised platform, which Harry stood on.

"Can I have your wand please, Harry?"

He handed it over apprehensively, noticing that, as Swan took it, she didn't actually step inside the Diamond. She took out her own wand and placed its tip to Harry's. She then closed her eyes and muttered some spell Harry could not hear. There was a brief moment when a flash of gold light lit up the connection between the wands, but other than that nothing else happened. Swan then laid her wand at one of the Diamond's bare points, and placed Harry's on the other. Immediately the blue line began to glow and shimmer, as though something was moving through it.

"The connection is now complete," Swan said in a deep voice. She began to chant something in a language Harry did not understand with her eyes closed. She opened her eyes a minute later, and now the silence in the room was absolute. She raised her hand and waved her fingers. The torches around the room went out, so the only light now came from the blue line on the floor. As this light surged, Harry felt a strange sensation in his spine, as though the light and the power it held were surging through his own body, too.

"Harry," Swan said, "do you give me permission to come within the Diamond?"

Harry was confused for a moment at this odd request, but then he realised that this must be a part of the spell.

"Yes," he said quietly, trying to stop his voice from shaking.

Swan stepped over her own wand to get inside the Diamond. "Please remain on the stage, Harry, or the connection will be broken." She strode over to the point behind Harry and returned with a bronze Goblet, whose intricate carvings reflected the blue light. She handed it to him. "Please drink the contents of the Goblet in three sips, to represent the three members bound to this connection."

Harry took the Goblet and drank its watery contents as he had been instructed. Swan took the Goblet from him and replaced it on its point. She then picked up the object on the point directly in front of Harry. It was a small glass sphere which reminded him of a Remembrall or...the Prophecy. Inside was a dense black fog. Swan gave it to him; it was small enough for him to hide it in his hand.

"Please look into the Sphere, Harry, and repeat the words I am going to tell you..."

She told him what to say, and he lifted the Sphere to eye-level and said, "Three shall be bound to the connection. Harry James Potter, Draco Malfoy and Tom Marvolo Riddle: The Dark Lord Voldemort shall be bound together." As he said the words the black fog changed slowly from black, to grey, to white, and then back to black.

Again Swan took it and replaced it.

"OK, Harry. Now I'm going to open the Book." She picked up the green book at Harry's feet and placed her hand on the cover. Her mouth moved soundlessly, but suddenly the black spine burst into life with silver marks and what looked like runes wriggling across it. Swan opened it and showed it to Harry.

The first page had no title. Instead Harry saw a page of intricate writing. He began to read. 'This book was created to see into the mind. The power comes from a source where no living man has ever trod. It-' as Harry finished reading the first line the world changed. He knew he was still reading, but instead he could now see the source of power the book was describing, as clearly as though he were really standing there.

There was a great arch ahead of him, made of huge stones. He somehow moved through it into a long room, which was reminiscent of a dungeon. Along the length of the room, for as far as he could see, was a path of jet-black stone, surrounded by a tiny stream of water on either side. He began to move down it. As he did so he noticed that the walls were covered in the same runes and marks as those of the spine of the Book, all moving frantically.

He looked up and saw no ceiling to the room, just an endless black. As he finally reached the end of the black path he saw another arch, identical to the first. He went through it...

He became aware of the world again and read the last line of the page, '-the same stone.'

He finished reading and looked up at Swan, feeling slightly shaken. She smiled at him.

"Harry James Potter," she said in the same low voice, "as you are the Primary Binder, the seal of this spell lies with you. Only you can close the Book."

With that she stepped back over her wand and stood outside the perimeter of the Diamond once more.

Nervously, and being careful not to step off the stand, he sat down upon it and placed the Book open on his knees. He placed his hand on the cover as though to close it and felt the power surge through him once more. It was as though the runes had flowed into his hands and up his body. When the feeling had passed, concentrating fully on the spell and what he was doing, he shut the book. It closed with, not just a snap, but with an enormous thunderclap. Immediately the blue line burst into flames, surrounding him in a Diamond of Fire. He cried out-his wand was somewhere in that blaze!

As suddenly as it had started the fire was extinguished, leaving the Sphere, the Goblet and both wands looking completely untouched.

But no blue line.

Swan rushed forwards, took the book him her arms, and helped him up.

"Well done, Harry," she said breathlessly.

"What was that? Is it complete? Did it work?"

"It is complete, the flames were showing that. And, yes, it worked. As for the thunder, that's the Book's "warning" that it gives me when a connection is made between any of you. Don't worry, no one else will hear it, I've sealed it into my office. And as I say, even if I'm not here, I'll know."

"Is there anything else I need to do?"

"No, that's it now. Obviously you'll still get the...well, the visions, and we can't help that. Nor can we help what you feel or how you react, I'm afraid. But we'll know what they are."

"Will the other two be able to tell the spell has been cast?"

"No. They won't feel any different. They cannot know. They won't have felt anything tonight and they never will."
Harry nodded, and then asked the question he knew he must.

"When does the spell stop? How long before you can't see what I see any more?"

"Well...there are two ways...hopefully when we tell it to. We'd use another spell- though it is more complicated. But we can do it. That won't be for a while though- years, probably. But.... there is one other, less desirable way..."
She did not elaborate. She did not need to, for Harry, whether through instinct or something else, knew what she was talking about : Death.

"Professor?"
"Mmm?"

"Will it...will you...can the Book show you anything other than the true connection?" He tried not to let his face burn red as he said it, but she had to ask. He really didn't want anyone seeing the dreams he often had since Christmas...

"No. It can only sense things to do with the connection. Even if you and Draco had a connection about...well...something private...the Book couldn't pick it up. It would be nothing to do with Voldemort do the connection wouldn't be total-it has to involve all three of you in some way shape or form...the Book and I would see nothing."

He nodded in relief.

It was some small comfort to know that others could see what he saw-even if they never could experience the pain, the terror and much else besides....

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Ginny stared at herself in the full-length mirror in her dormitory. She was alone, for everyone else was in the common room, and she'd set a signal so she would be forewarned if anyone were approaching.

She was naked. She often stood like that, before the mirror, casting a very critical eye over her appearance.

Any onlooker would have seen a slender young woman, with a desirable figure and striking features. All Ginny saw was a frumpy fifteen year old girl with dark red hair-which she hated, not only because of the prejudices about red heads, but also because it made her stand out so much.

She had always failed to see the beautiful colour and texture of her hair, which fell gracefully around her delicate face, failed to see the perfect fair skin, which showed off her deep-red lips so well.

The girl was playing on her mind. She wished she knew more about her, but how could she when she had no idea what her name was? She didn't even know what house she was in, for God's sake! So why the hell did Ginny have to feel so strongly about her when she was unattainable?

And even if she does know who I am, and even if we did become friends...there's no chance she'd gay. None at all...there's no chance she'll fall in love with me...she thought miserably. Her thoughts were becoming more depressing still.

"Just go for it."

She remembered Harry's words. But she couldn't act on them- no way. If she did she would be risking everything- friends, total humiliation, coming out to the whole school not to mention her parents...and most of all she'd be risking her dignity.

The mirror in front of her suddenly frosted over: the warning.

"Shit!" she muttered, diving for her nightclothes. After a tense battle to free her head from the nightdress she finally managed to pull it on just as the door opened.

"Oh...hi Ginny. I didn't know you were in here. I've just come to get my quill," the girl said as she crossed over to her bed and began rummaging in her trunk. It was Jess Parkes. She was the kind of girl who was sweet and perfect to your face, but the instant your turned your back she became a total bitch.

"Hi Jess," Ginny said as naturally as she could; as she tried to reach her wand to wipe the mirror clear again. Finally she reached it and muttered "Claritus!" just a split second before Jess straightened up, quill in hand. When she had gone Ginny sat down on the end of her bed, deep in thought. Then, very suddenly as though she had come to some decision, she leapt up, out of the door, and ran down the staircase, trying to compose herself as she did so.

Harry looked up to see her standing in front of him, just as she had done the night Ron found out about him being gay.

"Harry, fancy a chat?" she said determinedly.

Something about her over-bright eyes told him that this wasn't a question. He led her upstairs to his dormitory.

"What's up?" he asked.

"Nothing...well.... something...I'm not really sure."

It didn't take Harry long to work out what she was talking about.

"Have you seen her since?"
She shook her head.

"Not even in the Great Hall?"

"No. Even if she were there I wouldn't see her...I try to stick to my friends, really. And get out of there as fast as I can...in case Ron's there, you know."

"What! I thought he was OK about you?"
"He is...its just...well he's not exactly used to it yet. He's just being really civil to me, but not exactly friendly. It's getting better though, I think he's starting to accept it."

A hundred more curses aimed at Ron ran through Harry's mind, but he pushed them aside as Ginny went on.

"It just feels so horrible...feeling this way about someone, and not being able to tell them-ever. And knowing that it'll never get any better. And then there's all the stuff about thinking that I'm stupid because I feel like this. How can you be in love with someone you've only exchanged unfriendly words with? It's ridiculous. But I know I feel something...something big. I've no idea how or why, but I do."

"And is it?"
"Is it what?"

"Love."

"I'm not sure. It feels like it...or at least it feels like it could become love... but I know it's strong. I've never believed in love at first sight, though."

"You'll have to do something."

"I know that!" she snapped. "But what?"

"Try and find her. If you can't let her know exactly how you feel then at least let her know you'd like to start again- as in not hurl abuse at each other. Become friends first- no one can go straight from being strangers to being lovers, it takes time."

"I can't," she whispered hopelessly, "it'd be so much worse having a little but never being able to have more-"

"You don't know that," Harry interrupted. "She might give you more."

Ginny ignored him and went on. "-I'd rather have nothing at all than only a bit."

"Believe me," Harry said quietly, "nothing is worse than not having anything."

Ginny was quiet for a moment-she wasn't sure she did believe him. Then she said, "Anyway, even if she is gay, by some miracle, then there's no way she'd ever fancy me."

"How do you know that?"
Ginny spread her arms, inviting him to look at her. "Er...hello, Harry? Look at me...no one in their right mind would fall in love with this-let alone the most gorgeous girl I've ever seen!"

"WHAT?" Harry thundered. "What the hell are you talking about? You're gorgeous!"

They spent the rest of the evening arguing about Ginny's obvious beauty, which she failed to see. She tried to change the subject more than once, and though Harry was sorely tempted to tell her about the spell and the Connection, he refrained and continued talking about Ginny.

By the time Ginny had left and he had got into bed he felt totally exhausted, even though it was only early. This, he supposed, was the effect of the spell. He certainly felt weak and almost nauseous. He tried to summon up the energy to lift the Goblet full of potion for a Dreamless Sleep, but slumped back onto his pillow in weariness. As he made to sit up again he yelled in agony as his scar began to burn as though it were being branded onto his skin. He was aware of nothing around him- only the pain inside him. Seconds later a horribly familiar voice filled his head.

"Good," Voldemort crowed. "And so my plans progress...it will be a while before we go any further, but rest assured his day will come...we shall meet again... for the sixth and final time!" He began to laugh maliciousl-; a noise which made Harry retch. It was this that brought him back to himself.

His scar still burned as he tried desperately not to think of the words Voldemort had uttered...he must take the potion...

He drank it in one and as he fell back again onto his pillows again his last comforting thought was "Swan knows."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Draco sat in the high-backed armchair rigidly, not joining in the conversation around him. He desperately wanted to go to bed, to be alone, but he knew it would look suspicious if he went straight downstairs-he was famous for being the last to go to bed, and one of the first to rise in the morning. And besides, that would mean Kierre had won.

Finally, though, he could stand it no longer. "I'm going to bed," he announced. "I feel sick." This was greeted by various grunts from those around him, which he took to be acknowledgement. As he passed Kierre their eyes locked, glaring into each other...the obvious hatred was almost pulsing between them. When at last he reached the empty staircase he took several deep breaths to steady himself, and virtually ran down the stairs.

Lying in bed he thought over his situation. It was potentially deadly, he knew. Firstly because he and Potter were now real- a true couple. They couldn't hide if forever, it would have to come out sooner-or-later. And what, then, would his father do when he found out? And Voldemort? Not only was he gay but also he would be seen as a traitor, he had picked the worse person possible to fall in love with and now he would become the enemy. In Voldemort's eyes he would be as bad as Potter himself. It would have to remain secret for as long as they could possibly keep it.

And of course, closer to home, was Kierre. He didn't like to think what Kierre would do if he found out- not congratulate him, that was certain.

The Prophecy was by far the worst, though. He didn't envy Potter one bit, and couldn't begin imagine what he must be feeling.... if Draco was honest with himself, he was terrified. He was terrified for Potter, but he knew he must not let it show. He was terrified for himself too- he stood to lose his best friend and the only person he truly loved and that was almost more than he could bear. He was scared for the rest of the world to, because if Potter failed, and Voldemort lived, what then would happen?

In the end, he thought, it all comes down to Potter...if it wasn't for him I wouldn't care that Voldemort is evil, I wouldn't be in danger, and we wouldn't have these problems.

Inside, though, he knew that Potter was the only thing that kept him going. He would rather have Potter and all these problems, than no Potter and an easy life.

As he realised that he remembered Potter's words...I love you, too...and he thought it was strange how four, small, everyday words could become the most important words he had ever heard, and would ever hear again. Suddenly, these words were what allowed him to live.

The kiss had felt different after Potter had said it. It had meant something and it was somehow so much more real, and felt the better for it.

Yes, thought Draco, I would so much rather have all these problems, which can be beaten...as long as Potter and I are side-by-side.