Those Who Favor Fire (Drarry) [COMPLETE]

The Burning Bed

July 30, 11:59pm

It was a cool summer night on Privet Drive, but things were heating up in the second bedroom of Number 4, Privet Drive. Harry Potter, nearly 18 and of age, tossed and turned in his sleep. Sweat ran down his scrawny, malnourished body, his covers abandoned on the floor. His night shirt and boxers were soaked with moisture, and his messy black hair laid plastered to his forehead. The very air seemed to shimmer with the waves of heat radiating off the young man's body. 

Suddenly, at the very stroke of midnight, the heat seemed to reach a peak, and Harry's body was on fire, literally. He awoke and screamed in terror as the flames engulfed him. The bare mattress burned up, leaving only the red-hot springs underneath him. He was in pain, but it wasn't a burning pain. If felt more like a deep ache in his bones, like when he had to regrow his arm bones with Skele-Gro.

Smoke and flames were steadily filling the room, and Uncle Vernon burst in in his nightgown. As the fat man caught his breath, he took in the scene before him and the column of fire engulfing his nephew.

"YOU FUCKING FREAK! YOU'RE GOING TO BURN MY GOD DAMN HOUSE DOWN!" he shouted, fire reflected in his bulging, enraged eyes. Harry glared at Vernon, his pain forgotten as he stood up, his own anger flaring as he gazed on the man who had abused him for 17 years. 

"Are you going to beat me again, Vernon? Well, come on! Or can't you take the heat!?" Harry yelled back. Suddenly a spray of sparks issued from the inferno, landing on Vernon's nightshirt, igniting it.

The man screamed and ran back down the hall, flames licking onto the walls and carpet as he left. 'Stop, drop, and roll," Harry thought with a vengeful smirk. The room was quickly becoming very much on fire, and Harry grabbed his wand, (also on fire but unscathed) and quickly gathered up the rest of his belongings and trunk. Hedwig was out hunting, So Harry grabbed her cage as he jumped out the window, landing on the lawn softly. He left burning footprints in the grass as he walked to the street.

The house behind him was completely engulfed now, and he could just barely hear the screams of his relatives above the roar of the flames. Harry didn't look back as he apparated away, forever.

---------

Across England in a stately manor house, a pale-blond boy was writhing in his tangled silk bedsheets in a restless slumber. He was on fire too, but not literally this time. The fire was in his heart. The fire of desire. The Fire of Love. His parents looked on from the doorway, smiling gently at their son. They gave each other a knowing nod, and silently wished him the best of luck in finding his mate.

----------

Harry was no longer on fire when he appeared on Diagon Alley. Except for the pair of burning wings on his back. They lit the dark street in a warm glow as Harry examined them incredulously. He reached back to touch the flaming feathers. They were warm, but did not burn his fingers, which he noticed were charred black, along with the rest of his skin.

He couldn't just walk into the Leaky Cauldron like this, could he? As soon as he thought about how he might hide the bright appendages, the flames shrank and died to nothing. And when he wondered if he could bring them back, they exploded from his back like it was soaked with lighter fluid. He smiled to himself and hid them again as he entered the Leaky Cauldron.

The bartender Tom stared, incredulous at the man covered in dark soot walking up to the bar. "Can I please get a room?" Harry said, and dropped a few galleons on the countertop. Tom nodded dumbly and handed him a key for room 413. "Thank you," Harry said, and quickly hurried up the stairs.

Harry was just thankful his boxers hadn't burnt off because of magic as he started the shower, eager to wash off all the soot. He turned the water up to its hottest temperature, and found that it felt wonderful instead of scalding. As the ashes washed off, he noticed his body was...different. He cut the shower short, curious to see what he looked like now.

He stepped out of the shower and wiped the steam off the mirror. His mouth fell open as he stared at his reflection in incredulity. He was a few inches taller, and his once skinny, waifish body was now rippling with slender muscles. Most noticeable, however, was his hair. It was no longer jet black, but red, orange and yellow. But it wasn't red like the Weasleys' sort of orange, brassy hair which he didn't think looked very good. It looked just like fire, if it was hair instead of fire. Beautiful fire. 

(A/N: Like this:)

His eyes were still Avada Kedavra green, but there was a bright orange ring around the pupil. When he looked closely, the ring seemed to shift and move like flames. It looked like there was fire in his eyes that didn't burn. Also he didn't need his glasses anymore so he set them on fire, which he seemed to be able to do at will now.

"It's like I've been...reborn somehow," Harry said to himself. " Wonder what everyone at Hogwarts will think of the new me. Who should I write first? Hermione or Ron?" Hermione would probably know what had happened to him, or would soon be looking it up in a book. Ron was practically illiterate, but he grew up in the wizarding world so he might know something about it without having to open a book.

A sudden hoot caught his attention and he turned to see a huge dark owl perched on the windowsill. He took the letter from its leg and it flew away like it was scared of Harry or something. Harry shrugged and unrolled the scroll, and then he read the scroll.

Dear Mr. H. Potter,

It has come to our attention that you have recently come into your inheritance. As you are now of age you are eligible to claim what is rightfully yours. Please come to Gringotts at your earliest convenience for an inheritance test. We can also discuss several discrepancies in your vaults. Gringotts bank sincerely thanks you for your patronage.

Love,

Ragnok

Director of Inheritance

Gringotts Wizarding Bank

Diagon Alley

London

Great Britain

United Kingdom

Wizarding World

'Vaults?' thought Harry. He only had one vault as far as he knew. Well, he might as well take care of this now. The bank was probably open at 1 AM, goblins were nocturnal, he was pretty sure. He put on some clothes and left the Leaky Cauldron, wondering what else this strange night had in store.