Authors notes: This story is in a weird order:
Denotes song lyrics
"denotes Harry speaking to himself in the present"
~denotes flashback~
The flashbacks are not in chronological order. They skip around a bit. You have to take each as a new section. The pattern is Harry hears part of the song, says something, then has a flashback, then hears the next part of the song, says something, then has another flashback that has nothing to do with the previous one. Not terribly confusing…I guess you'll just get it.
It's All Coming Back To Me There were nights when the wind was so coldThat my body froze in bed if I just listened to it right outside the window.
"Do you remember this song, Draco? It used to be one of your favorites."
~Harry shivered as another blast of snow hit him in the face. Passing through one more circle of light from the streetlights above, he continued his meditative walk through muggle London. He ignored the freezing wind blowing down the back of his neck as he thought about what had occurred earlier that night.
"God, Potter, you're so pathetic."
"He needs my help, Draco."
"So you'll just waltz out of here tomorrow for god knows how long, leaving behind your job, your friends, me?"
"Draco, I owe it to Dumbledore to be there. He needs someone to give him a hand while Lupin's out."
"Why you? There are plenty of others who know more about the Dark Arts than you. You aren't even a real teacher! You are nowhere near qualified enough to teach that class for your 'several months.' What if they want this to become a permanent position?"
"I won't take it. I'll only be there a few months, and if something should go wrong for Lupin during his treatment, I won't stay past the end of the term. Draco, please try to understand…"
"'That I owe it to Dumbledore.' I know the line, Potter. Just go. I can't stop you, that much is obvious, but don't expect me to be here when you get back, waiting for you like a lap dog."
"Goddamn it! You are impossible! I don't know what I saw in you in the first place! I guess once a Malfoy, always a Malfoy."
Harry had left then, and gone to stalk the streets of London. A single tear trickled down his cheek to freeze with the snow on the collar of his coat, but the next morning, he left anyways.~
There were days when the sun was so cruel
That my tears turned to dust, and I just knew my eyes were drying up forever.
"You used to blast it as high as the speakers would go after we had had an argument. How many times did I come home from walks to calm myself down to hear this song even before I entered our flat?"
~It was the end of Harry's sixth year, and the heat of the early summer was almost unbearable. Harry lay next to the lake, his robes serving as his pillow. Hermione and Ron were still packing for the train ride home and he had long since finished, so he was left to his own devices as he tried to catch any hint of a breeze he could off of the tepid waters. He had heard rumors that even the normally frigid potions room was like a furnace. With a sigh, Harry began fanning himself with his hand, trying to relieve the intense heat, but succeeding in only making himself hotter for the motion. He didn't even hear someone coming up behind him.
"Well, well. Imagine it! The Boy-Who-Lived is hot! You'd think he'd have learned of a spell with which he could cool himself down. After all, after defeating Voldemort for the upteenth time, you'd think a simple spell like that would be no problem."
"Amazing, Malfoy. No matter how hot it gets, you still find some way to crack jokes at my expense. Rabid fans must know how you do it."
"Simple, really. Whenever I see you, all other things become of secondary importance."
"Really? I always assumed it was your heart of ice."
"Well, you know what they say about assuming."
"It makes an ass out of you and me?"
"No, don't. It's a good way to get into trouble."
"So is love," Harry said quietly, before he could stop himself, but Draco heard him.
"What's this? The Boy-Who-Lived is now the Boy-Who-Loves? Will wonders ne'er cease?"
"Malfoy…"
"So who is the lucky bitch? That Chang girl from a couple of years ago? The Weasel chick? Oh! Maybe it's the mudblood! Or, are the rumors true that Saint Potter prefers bastards to bitches?"
"Malfoy, lay off."
"What's the matter, Potter? Hit the nail too close to the head?"
"Goddamn it, Malfoy! Do you want to know who I like? I'll show you!"
With an amazing amount of speed, considering the heat, Harry leapt to his feet, grabbed Draco by the shoulders, and engulfed the blonde's lips with his own. They stood for a moment like that, then Harry reluctantly pulled away.
"There," he said. "Happy?"
Draco looked slightly shocked for a moment, then his perfect mask fell into place.
"Well, I must admit that you have good taste, Potter, but I must admit, so do I."
"What does that mean?"
"Precisely this: goodbye."
Draco turned on his heel and walked off towards the castle, leaving Harry standing by the lake. He felt he should be crying, but he was too empty to be home to any emotion.~
I finished crying in the instant that you left,
And I can't remember where or when or how,
And I banished every memory you and I had ever made.
"Sometimes I suspect you're haunting me through this song. It even plays in my dreams, but then, I play it so much, it's hard to tell reality from make-believe any more."
~Harry drew his knees to his chin where he sat on the cold stone floor in his prison cell in Malfoy Manor after Draco left. He was a prisoner of Voldemort's, after having been knocked unconscious during the most recent battle between the sides of light and dark. He had first awakened just a short time ago to find himself in this barren room with nothing but his thoughts to alleviate the monotony of it. So, he thought; thought about all of his previous confrontations with Voldemort, his own mortality, his loneliness, and his desire to live for the sake of one person, the person he had rejected in his first few days as a wizard, and the one who had rejected him countless time since.
"You'd think I'd learn my lesson," he said aloud to himself. "You'd think I'd learn, but I still can't help loving him."
Harry sighed in defeat.
"I guess it's time to give up. He hates me, he has always hated me, and he always will hate me. It's time to let him go."
With a small sigh, he set about trying to shove all his memories of Draco Malfoy into a back closet in his mind, never to see the light of day again.
"I'll never think about you again," he promised himself. "Never."~
But when you touch me like this,
And you hold me like that,
I just have to admit that it's all coming back to me,
When I touch you like this,
And I hold you like that,
It's so hard to believe that it's all coming back to me,
"Sometimes I can even feel you, Draco. Why do you tease me like this? It's almost as if you enjoy my pain…but unless death has made you into a masochist, I doubt it. Every time we fought when you were alive, I know you hurt as much as I did, if not more."
~Harry sat nervously in his chair in Dumbledore's office. The chair next to him was occupied by Draco Malfoy, his sworn enemy and the holder of his heart. Harry had never loved a living being as much as he loved Draco, but Draco did nothing but discourage the relationship in all ways possible. They had been told to report to Dumbledore by Professor Snape when they had entered the class for double Potions without having been given a reason as to why, but Harry had a good idea. Someone had been playing horrible pranks on the students, mostly known enemies of Harry and/or Draco, and leaving very obvious clues that Draco and he were responsible for them. Only Ron and Hermione would believe Harry was innocent, but weren't sure about Draco. Harry was sure Draco was innocent, though, mostly because it wasn't his style. The two of them weren't exactly on best-friend terms, but they had come to a mutual understanding over the years, and decided that not hating each other was more productive than having an ongoing war with sudden battles everywhere. Ron and Hermione were still uncertain about the alliance, but most of the school had accepted it by now.
Harry fidgeted in his seat, getting more nervous with each second it took Dumbledore to pry himself away from whatever he was doing and come and talk to them. Even he had to admit that the evidence against them was particularly overwhelming, even if some of it could be disproved. Harry was about to reach the point of going insane where he sat when Draco looked suddenly over at him.
"Are you alright?" Draco asked calmly.
Harry nodded far too vigorously to be believed.
"You should calm down," Draco suggested.
"How can I calm down? We're probably going to be expelled, or at least suspended!"
Draco looked at him, then did something very unexpected. He reached over and took Harry's hand in his own, and pat it softly.
"We have the truth behind us, right?" Draco reminded him. Harry nodded. "We know we're innocent, and I'm sure that Dumbledore, as much as I dislike him, will acknowledge the fact that some of the information can be disproved, which adds a flicker of doubt to the minds of all who look at the evidence. That's a good thing, because most smart people will not act with doubt in the backs their minds. The governors will not expel us unless they can prove we did it, probably by means of a confession from us both, so relax. Acting guilty will only raise their suspicions more."
Harry nodded.
"Thanks," he said, but did not take his hand back from Draco.
"You're welcome," Draco replied, not releasing Harry's hand. It felt comfortable where it was, and it almost seemed to Harry that Draco lent some of his strength to him through the connection. "You're welcome."~
There were moments of gold and there were flashes of light
There were things I'd never do again, but then they'd always seemed right
There were nights of endless pleasure which was more than any laws allow
"What's it like for you in heaven, Draco? I really don't think you're in hell. You're too perfect for hell. Even when I was angry with you I could see that, and it just wouldn't be right when you had to live in hell on earth most of your life."
~Harry held his breath as a particularly ugly Death Eater passed him by in the hall, too close for comfort. Holding his father's cloak close to him, he waited for the Death Eater to turn the corner, then proceeded down the hall for a ways.
'If I remember correctly,' he thought to himself, 'Draco's room is right…'
He reached out an invisible hand, turned the handle to the door and peeked inside. Empty.
'Ok. No memory. Come on, Draco…give me a hand here. I can't come find you if I can't remember where your room is…geh. I have not come here for nothing!'
As if summoned by Harry's thoughts, he spotted Draco's perfect blonde hair moving further down the corridor. Harry smiled and moved silently after him, following him up another flight of stairs, and to his bedroom. Draco slammed the door in Harry's face, mostly because he didn't know he was there, and Harry heard him flop onto his bed. Slowly, Harry reached up and turned the doorknob. When no sound greeted his ears, he eased the door open and slipped inside. It fell closed again before Harry could stop it, causing Draco to jump up from his bed and look around.
'This has potential,' Harry decided as Draco spoke.
"Who's there?" he commanded.
"Who do you think it is?" replied Harry in a strange voice, then he moved over toward Draco and ran a finger down his cheek.
Draco grabbed his hand at the wrist, and looked rather surprised. He then grabbed the cloak on the wrist and pulled it off all of Harry. Harry grinned.
"What the hell are you doing here?" Draco demanded. "Do you want to get us both killed?"
"I needed to see you."
"Harry, in case you missed this little detail, this is Malfoy Manor, the home base for Voldemort and the Death Eaters."
"I know. I had to sneak past them all to get in here."
"You are going to blow my cover and get us both killed, that's what you're going to do. You're insane."
"Maybe, but I had to see you."
Harry leaned his head against Draco's shoulder.
"I miss you," Harry said.
"Well, that's charming," Draco replied, "but you're going to miss me a lot more when Voldemort takes off my head."
"He won't. No one knows I'm here, except you."
"You are so pigheaded."
"Probably, but you love me for it."
"I do."
As one, they leaned forward to lock lips with each other. The kiss started off relatively innocent, but then became more demanding, as each struggled for dominance. Draco had finally won when Harry pulled away a bit and rested his head on Draco's shoulder again.
"When is this going to be over, Drake? When will we finally be able to hold each other all night long again, and not have to worry about Voldemort or your father or anyone else interfering?"
"Soon, Harry, soon. Voldemort is planning on making his big attack sometime in the next week. Everything's heating up around here. It won't be long now."
"I love you, Draco."
"I love you too."~
Baby Baby
If I kiss you like this
And you whisper like that
It was lost long ago but it's all coming back to me
If you want me like this
And if you need me like that
It was dead long ago but it's all coming back to me
It's so hard to resist and it's all coming back to me
I can barely recall but it's all coming back to me now.
But it's all coming back.
"But, I guess anything could be considered hell, compared to some of our moments together, right Drake?"
~It was snowing, the first time since Harry had seen the snow and just admired its beauty since the war had ended nearly a year ago. He felt relieved that he didn't have to worry about packing enough provisions to survive in the snow or anything. He could just admire the individual snowflakes as they hurried past him from where he sat on the bench in the park near his new flat in London. He buried his hands in his fleece jacket and closed his eyes, imagining he was far away, sitting on the grounds outside the lake at Hogwarts. A smile flickered across his face as he remembered ice skating across the frozen waters with Ron and Hermione, showing off once he realized how good he was, and coming back into the Great Hall for hot cocoa with little marshmallows after a long day. He could almost imagine that the past few years didn't exist for him as he sunk into the memory. How long he sat there, he didn't know, but it was long enough for someone, also wandering through the park at the late hour, to sit down unnoticed and get cold enough to sneeze. Harry jumped and looked over at the man, who turned out to be less of a stranger than Harry had first thought.
"What are you doing here?" Harry demanded.
The man smiled.
"Oh, I'm sorry. Is this your park? Didn't see any signs around, so I figured it would be legal for me to wander around too."
"What do you want?"
"Have you forgotten how to be civil? Or are we regressing to times long past when we were enemies?"
"You know what I mean, Draco. What do you want."
Draco laughed as he remembered something from a long time ago.
"The same thing you wanted on the last day of our sixth year."
Harry looked at him questioningly, and for a minute, neither did anything. Then Draco leaned forward and kissed Harry lightly on the lips. His lips were like cubes of ice, but they filled Harry with unexplained warmth.
"That's all I want," he said, and stood up. "Now, I shall finish disturbing your peace."
He made to walk off, but Harry stopped him.
"I thought it was over between us," Harry said, more of a question than a statement.
"No, Harry, I don't think it will ever be over. There may be lapses when we think we're free, but it'll never be over for good." Draco smiled, slightly sadly. "Never."~
There were those empty threats and hollow lies
And whenever you tried to hurt my I just hurt you even worse and so much deeper.
"I remember that day very well, Draco, and I have to say that I agree now. I don't think anything will ever end our relationship."
~Harry was livid, which was not a good thing, especially when he was supposed to be someone that the younger years looked up to, seeing as he was a seventh year. The source of his anger was, once again Draco, and he was getting damned sick of the little prat's attitude, which is a worse thing when they were having a verbal row right in the middle of the Gryffindor Common Room.
"Goddamn it, Draco! You are such an insufferable git!"
"Better than being a mudblood lover, you flaming bastard."
"STOP CALLING HER THAT!"
"What's the matter? Angry because I call your buddy Granger what she really is? Or are you pissed because that's what your mother was too?"
"DRACO! What is your problem?"
"You! You and your fucking mudblood loving ways! I can't believe you'll choose to side with her over me on this thing!"
"Maybe if you stopped calling her a mudblood I would consider your position."
"What the hell does me calling her a mudblood have to do with anything? This is about you and your stupid ideas of grandeur! Are you really willing to give your life as you know it away for some stupid little stunt that may or may not work in bringing down Voldemort?!"
There were gasps as some of the younger years who were watching the argument with rapt attention heard the Dark Lord's name.
"Yes I am! I will do anything to get rid of that bastard! He-"
"Yes, yes, I know. 'He killed my parents!'" Draco cruelly imitated Harry's voice. "So what, Potter? Are you willing to die too?"
"For revenge, and to save other innocents, yes."
"You are such a bastard, just like your father, no doubt. That's probably why he got killed in the first place, trying to be some super-hero! You'll wind up dead before you're 20, Harry."
"I'd rather die a hero than live a coward, Malfoy! And at least my father wasn't a sniveling weasel! God, you're just like him, a cold, stubborn, mudblood dressed up in a pure-blood suit! You ever thought about that? Do you really know your father as well as you think? Well, you damned well should. He hides it well, but he's as mudblooded as Hermione! Go look up his read damned genealogy if you don't believe me!"
The assembled gasped again, and looked to Draco, who's expression of pure hatred was a clear enough indicator of the truth behind Harry's words.
"Fine, just fine. Goodbye, Harry," Draco said, and stormed out of the common room, leaving a very pissed off Harry and a gaggle of awed lower classmen in his wake.~
There were hours that just went on for days
When alone at last we caught up all the chances that were lost to us forever.
"Even death isn't strong enough."
~It was warm and sunny out, which was odd, because Harry had always assumed Death only came when it was dark and cold. Yet, here it was, running a shiver up his spine as it came to bring the slain assassin, and Harry's only love away. Harry was sitting on the hot pavement, holding the limp form of the only man had ever loved. The assassin, hired by one of the few Death Eaters still alive now, it being close to five years after the end of the war, had attacked Harry and Draco as they were walking down to see a movie. It was all over so quickly, Harry could barely figure out what had happened. The man had originally come at him, wand ready in his right hand, and a dagger with some strange purple liquid on it, in his left, but somehow, Draco had seen him, and before Harry could react, had jumped in his path, wand out. He was already halfway through a curse when the man realized he was charging the wrong man, but apparently he didn't mind killing twice to get his way. Draco released the spell just as the man raised his knife for a killing blow. The spell hit him full in the face, killing him instantly, but gravity brought his knife down, right into Draco's wand arm. The damage wasn't severe, just a small incision, but it was apparently enough. Draco grabbed at his arm as Harry picked up the dagger.
"Drop that!" Draco commanded. Harry complied quickly.
"What is it?"
"Phoenixbane. Only Phoenixbane's that color. It's one of the more deadly poisons known to man."
Draco dropped to his knees, face contorted in pain, and Harry sat down across from him.
"What's the-"
"There isn't one, Harry. It's rare. Almost as rare as the phoenixes it kills. It's always been assumed that it's too expensive to be used much, so there…hasn't been…much research done…on it."
Draco was beginning to fade, the poison quickly eating away at his life. Harry felt as if he was dying too.
"There…there must be something!" Harry insisted.
"Nothing. You…should have…paid attention in…Potions more. I'm a…dead man."
"NO! Don't talk like that Draco! You can't die! We haven't survived this long only for you to die because of a little wound!"
Draco leaned his head forward onto Harry's shoulder, unable to hold himself up. He could feel death creeping up on him.
"I'm dying…Harry…I don't want…to go…"
Harry wrapped his arms around his love.
"Youu won't die, Draco. I won't let you."
"You…can't stop it…I just…wish…"
"Wish what?"
"When you…go home…" He was struggling for breath "Top drawer…right side…the brown box was…supposed to be for you…for us…"
"Draco, don't leave me."
"I…love you, Harry…D-don't…forget…me…please."
"I love you too, Draco." Harry said frantically. "You can't die on me…"
"Goodbye…" Draco's body went limp as his last breath passed from his lips, and would have fallen, if not for Harry's grip on it.
"No…no! Draco!"
Harry leaned against Draco, sobbing in mortal anguish.~
But you were history with the slamming of the door
And I made myself so strong again somehow
And I never wasted any of my time on you since then
"Your gift to me…the ring…I still wear it. You were the only one I cared about, Draco, even if I didn't show it all the time."
~Harry sat sulking in the empty Defense Against the Dark Arts classroom. He put his feet up on the desk and leaned back in his chair, brooding. He wasn't enjoying teaching as much as he had thought he would. Reliving your most horrible memories of Voldemort every day for six classes a day was not a pleasant thing, and then having pesky little brats pointing out how you could have done better was worse than he had expected it would be. Also, he hadn't heard from Draco since he had gotten here. No owls, no messages from friends, no nothing. He sighed and looked up at the ceiling. A timid knock on the door a few minutes later pulled him out of his thoughts. Hermione, the new Charms teacher, was standing in the doorway.
"Hey, Hermione."
"Hi, Harry. Am I interrupting anything?"
"No, just picking apart my life decisions for all they're worth."
"Oh, well, perhaps this isn't the time than."
"The time for what? Just tell me. I doubt it's bad enough for me to go commit suicide."
"Well, I thought you'd be interested, since I know that you haven't heard from Draco recently, that I hear something of him."
"And?"
"Well, I'm sorry to be the bearer of bad tidings but…"
"Just say it, Mione."
"Well, George said he saw him a few days ago, being very cozy with that Blaise guy from Slytherin. Apparently they've hooked up again and have gotten to know each other better…a lot better than may be deemed politically correct, seeing as you two are still together…You're still together, right?"
Harry sighed. He hadn't told Hermione or Ron about the most recent fight between Draco and himself.
"I don't know, Herm. I don't know."
"Ah…ok…I'd better get to dinner than. You may want to owl him about it. George may be wrong…"
"I will. Please close the door on your way out."
"Alright." There was a pause. "You can always come talk to me or Ron, Harry. You know that, right?"
"Yes. Good night Hermione."
"Good night, Harry."
The door slammed shut, leaving Harry to his thoughts.~
But if I touch you like this
And if you kiss me like that
It was so long ago but it's all coming back to me
And if you touch me like this
And I kiss you like that
It was gone with the wind but it's all coming back to me
(It's all coming back, it's all coming back to me now)
"We fought so often, Draco, it was like a bad soap opera, yet I think our loving, tender moments were worth every second of pain we inflicted upon each other."
~Harry was once again sitting in Dumbledore's office. The second time this year, and the year wasn't even half over. He had no clue as to why he was here, and that frightened him. Dumbledore indicated Harry was to take a seat, so he sat, hands folded in his lap, wondering what the hell he was in trouble for now.
"Harry," Dumbledore began. If there was a sadder look in his eyes, Harry didn't notice it. "Harry, there is something I have to tell you. It grieves me to be the bearer of bad tidings, but no one else is really in the place to tell you."
"What is it, Headmaster?"
"Harry, your godfather, Sirius, is dead."
Harry's eyes went wide, his stomach dropped out of him, and his heart began racing.
"Sir, there must be some mistake…"
"I'm sorry, Harry, there is no mistake. He was shot in his animagus form by a man who thought he was some sort of hunting prey. Lupin owled me today to inform me of the death."
Harry was stunned. He had received a letter from his godfather just the day before. How could he be dead?
"Harry? Are you alright?"
"I…I don't know, Professor." Harry paused. "Might I be excused?"
Dumbledore nodded sadly, Harry stood, and made his way down to the corridor. It was like walking in a dream for him. He didn't even notice when he ran into a familiar blonde…literally.
"Ow! Watch it, Pott-Harry? Is something wrong?"
Harry looked at him, slightly confused, then responded.
"I'm not sure…Dumbledore just…he just…"
Suddenly, what he had been told sunk into his brain. Sirius was dead! Before Harry could stop himself, he dropped to the floor, and began crying, crying as he never had before.
"Harry? Harry, what's wrong?" Draco asked, kneeling in front of him.
Between sobs, Harry managed to get out, "Sirius…my godfather…Sirius…he's dead!!"
Draco seemed to understand, despite the fact that the words were muffled because Harry had his face in his hands. He gathered the dark-haired seventh year into his arms and held him tight. Glad to have someone who at least pretended to care, Harry cried, surrounded by comfort, until there were no more tears, just emptiness inside. When he had cried himself out, it took him only a minute to figure out where he was and who was holding him. He started and hiccupped, but Draco continued to hold him.
"It's alright, Harry. It's lunch. We aren't missing class."
Harry nodded and leaned against Draco again, figuring that if Draco wasn't complaining, he sure as hell shouldn't be. A few minutes passed, and Harry looked up.
"Why?"
"Why what, Harry?"
"Why are you sitting here, holding me? I thought we were enemies."
"I don't know, Harry. I think you cursed me with that kiss of yours last year. I haven't been able to properly hate you since."
"I guess that's a good thing."
"I'm not too sure. Crabbe and Goyle keep asking me if I'm feeling well."
"And are you?"
"I'm not sure. Right now I'm feeling slightly feverish, nervous and I have clammy palms, if you'll believe it."
"Oh, really? Anything I can do to help?"
"Well…maybe. I don't know if you'll be game, though."
"What is it?"
"This," Draco said, leaning in close to Harry. Lightly, he pressed his lips against Harry's, sending tingles up both their spines. Somewhere, in the back of his mind, someone was screaming at Harry that this was not the time or place, especially after the news he had just received, but Harry shoved the little bugger aside. Sirius had always wanted Harry to be happy, and he was damned if he was going to dishonor Sirius' memory by sulking when he could be happy. Sirius would have had a fit, so he leaned into the kiss, amazed, because he felt complete and absolutely at peace in Draco's arms.~
There were moments of gold and there were flashes of light
There were things we'd never do again but then they'd always seemed right
There were nights of endless pleasure it was more than all your laws allow
"Those moments made everything in my life worth while, but now they're gone…left only as memories. I don't know if I can stand missing you much longer."
~Harry moaned in pleasure as Draco caressed Harry's back, quickly freeing him of his shirt, and tried to encourage Draco to speed things up, but he would have none of it. It had been a while since they had last made love, and he was going to take this as slow as possible, assuming he could control himself long enough to do that. Draco slowly kissed his way down Harry's neck, and began sucking on the sensitive spot right where his neck met his shoulders. Harry moaned again. Draco knew just how to make him go wild. Harry tried to concentrate enough to pull off Draco's shirt, but didn't get far before Draco gave him a hand and removed it himself. With a grunt, Harry protested the absence of Draco's amazing hands, but they soon returned to bringing all sorts of pleasure to Harry's body. Harry's knees went out, and he and Draco tumbled to the bed behind them, Draco not missing a beat. He continued to tease Harry, and Harry was sure he was going to go insane before he managed to find release. He moaned again as Draco's hands traced patterns of fire across his chest, and slowly, ever so slowly, down toward the part of him in dire need of attention.
Draco continued his attentions, driving Harry almost to the brink of insanity before allowing them to have a glorious release as one in their messy bed. Harry's last conscious thought as he drifted off to sleep in Draco's arms was that apologizing was definitely worth it if it made Draco this much of a sex demon.~
When you touch me like this
And when you hold me like that
It was gone with the wind but it's all coming back to me
When you see me like this
And when I see you like that
Then we see what we want to see, all coming back to me
The flesh and the fantasies all coming back to me
I can barely recall but it's all coming back to me now
"Do you remember this knife, Draco? It used to be one of your favorites."
~Harry sat nervously in the hospital room, holding Draco's hand and feeling very worried. Finally, Draco looked over at him.
"Harry! Relax! It's a simple procedure! These doctors do them a million times."
"I know. I'm just worried. I don't like hospitals much. Had one too many bad dreams of coming in and never coming out again as a child."
"Heh. Imagine that. The Boy-Who-Lived is afraid of hospitals. You afraid of needles too? Or is it just the men in those lovely white coats. Hey! Maybe you do have reason to be afraid after all. Escaped psych-ward inmates should fear all those in white coats!"
Harry glared at Draco, and they both laughed.
"I don't see what you're so bothered with," Draco said. "After all, I'm the one who's going into this thing and coming out uglier."
"You'll have a set of tiny scars. Hardly anything to make you ugly."
"Still, marring my perfect skin, for something called a "gall bladder" of all things, hardly seems fair."
"I'm sure the doctors will be stunned at the opportunity to operate on so perfect flesh."
"I know you're jealous."
"I am, I so am, Drakkie dearie."
"You know I hate that!" Draco whined. "You're so mean to me! What if I DO die? Then you'll feel bad for calling me that!"
"Of course, Drakkie dearie! I shall always regret it."
"You're so mean," Draco said, sticking out his tongue.
"Hey, don't show that tongue without intention to use it."
"Oh, so you want me to use it now, hm? Alright…" Draco leaned over and captured Harry's lips proudly, though Harry hardly seemed to mind. In fact, they were enjoying it so much, they didn't hear the nurse come in. She coughed once, and the two of them flew apart.
"Yes, well, it's time to take you, Mr. Malfoy."
Draco nodded and the nurse removed him from the room for the operation.~
If
you forgive me all this
If I forgive you all that
We forgive and forget and it's all coming back to me
When you see me like this
And when I see you like that
We see just what we want to see all coming back to me
The flesh and the fantasies all coming back to me
I can barely recall but it's all coming back to me now
"You didn't use it much after school ended, but you kept it until the day you died, and I've had it since. I never understood what the appeal was. You used to talk of the beauty of blood on ivory skin. I didn't understand."
~Harry sat on his Slytherin's bed, as he often called it, listening with horror to the story Draco was telling him.
"I was always depressed last year. It seemed that no matter what happened, life sucked so bad, I wanted to die. So I did the next best thing.
"Mother had given me this knife a long time ago, as a birthday gift, I think," Draco continued, caressing the blade in his hand with a loving finger. "It was supposed to be ornamental, flown in from China, actually, but I found a better use for it. Last year, right after our sixth year Halloween feast, I was so depressed, I took it out, and made this mark here." He showed his left wrist to Harry, pointing at one of the many silvery scars on it with the knife. "It was exhilarating. The feeling of a physical pain to match my emotional one was relaxing…almost like a drug. And the color of blood was such an interesting contrast against my skin. I was mesmerized by it for so long that it clotted before I could pull myself out of the trance. I cleaned it and put it away, for it had served its purpose for that night…it really did make me feel better. It wasn't long, however, before I pulled it out again."
Draco continued telling his stories as the boys sat on his bed in the Slytherin dorms, Harry both amazed and sickened that Draco had been forced to take a knife to himself to relieve the pain of living. When Draco had finished, Harry took his hand.
"Draco, promise me something, will you?"
"What?"
"Promise me you'll never use this again. Please?"
Draco looked at the knife.
"I'll try not to, Harry. But you have to realize that I'll keep it. It's a symbol to me. A symbol of things I don't want to remember, but lived through. It's almost a symbol of strength to me."
"Fine. Just don't cut yourself any more."
"Alright, Harry. I'll try."~
(It's all coming back to me now)
And when you kiss me like this
(It's all coming back to me now)
And when I touch you like that
(It's all coming back to me now)
If you do it like this
(It's all coming back to me now)
And if we…
"Oh, but I understand now. It is beautiful. You may not have succeeded in never using the knife again, but that's OK, Draco, because now I understand. It's intoxicating. The light plays off of the knife in such beautiful patterns…It's almost as if it's calling out to me to use it. It is calling to me. In your voice…God, Draco, holding this, it's almost like holding a part of you again. I've tried to live. Tried for your sake. It's been two months now, but it's not working. Every day I sink further into a depression that hasn't been matched by anything I've ever known. The knife, and you, you're calling to me. All I can do is respond, 'I'm coming.' And I am coming, Draco. I'm coming now faster than ever. Ouch. There is pain, but you were right, it feels good to have a physical pain to echo the emotional pain. But, unlike you, my wounds won't scar as reminders. I remember you once telling me that it's all right to cut across the wrist, but down the arm is deadly. Well, I guess I'm looking for death. I must be. Wow…you were right. The colors are beautiful, although I'm sure they'd look better on you. Blood red on tan skin is less attractive than on ivory white. You always did look better than me. The colors are mesmerizing…or maybe it's just my head. I'm feeling dizzy…light headed…but there's a calm to it…I'm coming home, Draco…I'm coming. Wait for me…I'm coming."
Fin
Ok, that was a one-shot. Please R and R. Thankies!