Disclaimer: Characters, places, and most objects are owned by J.K. Rowling. I do not own them. If I did, I would not have lost my Remus Lupin. Rest in Peace my dearest Remus. Say hi to my Freddy-kins and George's ear.

My Name Is Blank Blank, and I'm a Blank.

"Hi. My name is Damian Evill, and I'm an Alcoholic. Which probably makes sense, for me to work in a bar." I exclaimed this into the mike as I walked across the stage. My audience had chuckled. I felt empty this time, like there was no reason to entertain tonight. I did it. Of course I did, the show must go on. I sang, I dance, I stripped. I did what I always do. I drank more often then I always had, and I remember someone whispering in my ear, "Damian, I thought you stopped drinking." I think I nodded, I'm sure I did, but maybe at the bartender who was offering me another bottle.

I drank so much at work that night, that I felt I could go on, I felt less empty, my pain seemed to have sub-sided. So, I decided after work, I would go to a friend's. She hosted parties at her house every night, and I didn't want to be alone. I needed people to talk to. I strutted to her house, she lived rather close. I only remember counting five steps. Or maybe that was after her house party. It was lighter out, than it was when I left work.

I woke up on a violently pink leather couch, and peeled my sticking face off the warm, wet surface. I hear voices from down the hallway, but I didn't know who they were. The woman sneered, "I still don't like that 'thing' ruining my couch. He's a pathetic scumbag, that tramples on other people on his way to the top. He'll use ya if he thinks it'll get him more power. He's a drunken, power-hungry, piece of shit that doesn't deserve your kindness."

"Hunny," Her man had said with a sigh, "He's a recovering alcoholic who drank everyone under the table two nights ago at work. He stumbled to a old friend's house who's known for hosting the worst sort of parties. I had to follow him. Something is wrong, and later that night, he proved it. He challenged 16 people to drinking contests, and beat every single one of them. Plastered out of his mind, he wandered drunkenly into the backyard, conjured a rope and tried to hang himself from a tree."

It sounded as if her man had gotten up and walked carefully over to his woman, "He tried to kill himself after drinking more than a giant's weight in liquor. There is something wrong, and I really don't want to lose him. He's a dear friend of mine, and he's helped me through a lot. I wouldn't be alive right now, if it weren't for him, so I own him."

His woman sighed, and I could picture them in a comfortable embrace, and I felt that same emptiness as before. Images slowly formed in my head. The sweet embrace of my love. The one I would lean on when things got too much, and I almost took a drink. The one who would curl up to me, after hot passionate sex, and slowly stroke my hair, whisper my name, and let me know how loved I was. Then the worst image of them all, faded in. I walked into our house, the one we bought after Hogwarts. The one I was allowed to paint until I covered every surface with endearing thoughts, moments, and memories we shared. No one knew about us, our love was forbidden, which made it so much more passionate and sensually. Neither one of us had our friends visit our house, we always went to theirs. I had walked into that house, our house, and seen the bedroom door closed. We never closed the doors in our house, because we never felt the need to. It was us, and only us. We often joked about how we should just remove them, because they were useless to us. Behind that shut door, the most haunting visual of my entire existence... My best friend, my lover, my life... Motionless on our bed. Dead. Avada Kedavra, the killing curse.

The last image made me cry out in pain and throw myself at the floor. Pulling out my wand I shouted, "Accio Coffee Table!" Which came flying at my body, shattering upon impact. I grabbed onto the shards of glass, and squeezed my hands together. Blood dripping down as glass enters my hands, I open them, and drag my hands down the sides of my face. I muttered longingly, "My love is gone, and now I'm alone." Adrenaline coursing through my veins, I jump up and run out the front door. I hear my name, my real name, being called, but I didn't look back I keep running.

"Hi. My name is Damian Evill, and I'm a Drug Addict." I casually mention, as I sit myself down on the over used bean bag chair that I swear is older than I am. The group I'm surrounded in laughs, as if what I said were a joke and not a desperate plea from a broken man. Once the joints started to be passed, and the pills were in circulation, the rest of the day was a write off.

I awoke on a hard bed, covered up to my neck in a thin white sheet. Wrists strapped down to the bars on the side of the bed. I smelled blood and vomit, and tasted just the same. There were voices just outside my hospital door, as they discuss what's going to happen to me.

"Sir," I assume was the voice of the St. Mungo's employee, "I do not think it wise to release this man in this state. He's been through a lot, and is rather woozy at the moment."

"Ha. You sure don't know him very well. He's a rock and can make it through anything. He's the reason I'm still alive. I was so envious of his ambition to move on, that I decided to be like him. I was about ready to give up and keel over, when I met him. I was twelve, and he was admirable. He's been through much more than what's happened to him in the past day and a half here at St. Mungo's, and lived to tell the tale. A little stomach pumping and puking does not slow this man down."

"But sir, he had cuts."

"And I have cuts."

"But sir, you don't understand. They looked as if he did them himself."

"Are you trying to tell me, that you think he was trying to kill himself?"

"Sir, I'm not implying anything, I'm merely stating facts. There were glass shards in his hands, and then it looks as if his hands were rubbed down his face."

"But you fixed them."

"Yes sir, but-"

"No buts. He's healthy enough to be released. So, I'm taking him with me."

Next thing I know, a man walks in, black from head to toe, except his illuminatingly white pasty skin and unties me. I closed my eyes out of lack of interest before more of his features really sink in, and allow myself to be carried away. The trip was short by nauseating, and again I'm placed on a couch. Not the same pink one as last time, but a new softer one. The sick feeling still lingers, so I kept my eyes shut. My fellow man company sits on what I am to assume is a chair, and clears his throat. Having no interest in talking, I relax my body and drift off into an uneasy rest.

"Hi. My name is Draco Malfoy, and I am alone." I announced to a room full of people I used to call family. My Lover was the only one I called family. Surrounding me now though, was my Pancake King of an uncle, his son and daughter (with her Fiancée), my fake/half/adopted cousin (the man in black), my co-worker and his wife (my ex-cousin, fully removed for being a nosy bitch), and my co-worker's younger brother. We are sitting here, hours after I woke up again, and they demanded to know what was wrong with me. I didn't see a way out of it all, so I sat them all down and started explaining everything:

I found love. I didn't go looking for it, and I never thought of him as a person before, but times had changed. After the war with Voldemort, I went into hiding. Not wanting to live in a world where people knew what I had done, and accused me of such things. I'm not proud of what I have done, and do not get satisfaction out of it either. I regret the lives I cost on my journey of self-discovery. The people who were more than respectable. They are dead because of me, and I regret it completely.

He found me curled up in a ball, in an alley way. I had just spent the night drinking my brain cells away, and found a nice garbage bag to sleep on. He brought me to his condo, where he lived with his best friend and that guy's wife. He cleaned me up, and sobered me up. When I realized it was Harry, I left as soon as possible. Unknown at the time, he was following me. I race and race down streets, running as if my life depended on it. Knowing fully well, that I was really running from the truth. Facing him, meant facing my mistakes, facing my problems, facing my past. Something I had not come to terms with yet. I ran into the nearest bar, and fortunately it wasn't the one I work at. I slowly slipped past the people, though I was the last thing to catch their attention; I was just another figure moving around the bar. I sneaked into the bathroom where I leaned against the wall. Sliding down the wall at an inactive pace, I pulled my knees against my chest and I carefully placed my head upon my knees. My arms slide around my legs as if to hold my body together so I couldn't fall apart.

Harry slowly opened the restroom door, and carefully slipped in. He turned to the door and magically locked it. I dryly sob into my knees. Just once. Just the signal of a fleeting man giving up on the run. With gentile movements, he knelt down in front of me, and caressed my back compassionately.

"Why did you run? What are you afraid of?"

"You..." I muttered, "And me."

"You are afraid of me?"

"No..." I whispered, " I run from you because I'm afraid of me..."

Harry sighed, "How do I remind you of you?"

"My past, Harry. You remind me of my past that I'm so desperately trying to avoid. I don't like what I did, and I don't like who I was."

Harry was quiet for a bit, short enough for me to think, but long enough for me to get nervous. I turned my head to the side to gaze at his face. He had a crestfallen look to him, and he carefully shifted his eyes to meet mine, whispering he said, "... I'm sorry..."

I crumbled. His words were so painful to me. This man, this man that everyone loves and everyone looks up to. This man that risked everything just to save the fate of the world. This man that has done nothing wrong to anyone, apologizes for my mistakes. His words of self-blame crushed my small black heart. I couldn't bare it, he didn't deserve to put this on himself. "No." I said firmly, sitting up and pushing his hand away. "Do not. I repeat. DO NOT put this upon yourself Harry. This is not your fault. This is my problem. I'm the one who screwed up, and messed up everything. You have done nothing. I led them to you. I led them to the innocents. I'm the one that's sorry. I'm the mistake. I'm the problem. This has nothing to do with you."

Harry's gaze move with caution from mine, slowly traveling up my body and locking eyes with me again, he spoke gently, "... Malfoy?..." He asked, "Draco Malfoy?"

I looked down in a depressed resignation, and a deep sigh. Harry then caught me by surprise, as he caught me in an embrace. He cooing compassionately in my ear, "Malfoy... Draco..." Shudders traveled down my spine at the sound of my name whispered so sensually close to my ear. "I don't blame you for what happened. No one blames you for what happened. You were under the Imperious curse. Your father, Lucius, is the one to blame. He's the one that made you do those horrible things. He's the mistake. He's the problem. You were his pawn."

"Harry, I'm sorry.." I started sobbing again.

"Draco." Harry pleaded, "Stop apologizing for something that is not your fault."

"But Harry-"

Harry silenced my mouth with his own. Unknown to both of us what was happening, we stay there on the gross sticky ground of the bar bathroom; in a passionate embrace, locked in a confusing kiss. I remember how calming it felt, in his arms, like the world was suddenly real again. The past while since Hogwarts, however long it had been, was now a blur. Harry's embrace was now the world. My hands had traveled under his Muggle clothing, a hooded jacket, and across his ribcage and locked my fingers together above his spine. He moaned into my mouth at my soft movements. Something, by far, enjoyable. Then it clued into me at what was going on, and with whom it was going on with. I pulled away so fast, I hit my head on the wall I was still leaning against. I stood up so fast that Harry fell backwards. He looked up at my shocked face with a look of amusement.

"Harry." I cried shockingly, "This is very wrong-"

"Which makes it feel so very right, Draco." He smiled seductively. I had to admit he was right on that point. Which is why I never stopped him from lightly running his hands up my legs and kissing my inner leg from my ankle up. I just leaned my head painlessly against the wall and closed my eyes in utter ecstasy. He explored his way sensually up my body and gently removed articles of clothing I didn't know I was still wearing. He exposed my chest, and laid light kisses all over it. I had had enough of this slow sensual crap; Not that I really minded, but my body wanted more, and it wanted more now. I grabbed onto Harry, and quickly pulled him into a vicious kiss. Where I dragged myself, locked in a violent kiss, away from the wall, and turned to place him roughly against the wall. I literally ripped his clothing off and rammed my body against his in another harsh make-out scene. He moaned like a god, and I needed more. Turning him over so his chest was against the cold wall, I made him moan until he was calling my name.

When things died down and we were both on the ground, patting; he curled up to me and muttered in between kissing my chest, "Now how did we get ourselves into this kind of a situation, when we have forever been arch-enemies?"

"According to my mother, there is a fine line between hate and love."

"Man," He half moaned, "I am so glad I hated you all years. This would have to be the most..."

"... Most..." I continued his unfinished thought, "...Satisfying experience of our lives?"

Harry chuckled into my chest, and a feeling of joy drifted over my body. This is were I was meant to be. This is what happiness is all about. Sharing a passionate experience with another.

"Hi. My name is Draco Malfoy, and I was Harry's Lover." My old family didn't enjoy my story so far by the looks on their faces, but I was not finished, so they did not interrupt. "I spend a few days with Harry, just walking around, getting to know each other for who we really were. He had fulfilled his dream to become an Auror, and I had wasted my life on partying and working at a bar. I know I had potential, even before he reminded me, but I couldn't go through with my dream. I knew that now there was no way I could be Minister for Magic. Not when I felt that people don't trust me anymore. So I gave up on life, I gave up on health, I gave up on existing, and I even gave up on Magic. I partied, then worked, then partied some more. I had no personal residence. I just stayed where ever I could.

Harry didn't like this idea very much, and said that he was considering moving out because his best friends were expecting, and he was taking up room that they could use. He then suggested to me, that we could get our own place, if I wanted, and it didn't have to mean anything. It would just be a place for me to sleep, and for him to live, if I was at all interested. I declined right away, not that idea of getting a place together, but the idea that it was not something for us together. I let him know that I would glad live with him; And that's how us living together came about.

We got a cozy little place together, with everything we needed, and luckily within walking distance from my work. He would come and watch me sometimes, flirting with me, and undressing me with his eyes. The passion that lied within our walls was the moments I lived for every day. The secret smile that was for me and me only, was the one thing I breathe for. Harry had become my life. He would go visit his friends, tell them he was dating, but it was nothing serious, then come home a curl up with me in bed. They knew nothing of us... no one did."

I remember pausing for dramatically effect, because someone had found out and took him from me for it. I think I had forgotten that I was telling them a story, when I stood up and wandered to the window. I pressed my cheek against the window and closed my eyes. It felt like he did on the days when we couldn't keep winter out; Cold and smooth. I then, ranted to myself forgetting that I was not alone, "Three years of perfect ecstasy I was with him. Happy for the first time. I felt no need to drink. I felt no need to do drugs. I felt no need to have random sex with random people. I had Harry, the perfect lover for me. He was passive enough when I needed control, and aggressive enough when I was too controlling. He was gentle, he was rough, and he was a biter who loved to cuddle. He was even into a little S and M. He was perfect. He was also a listener. Which is what I needed as well. He was everything I needed in life, so I got rid of anything else. Harry was my life, and that's the way I wanted it. I gave up on drinking, I gave up on drugs, I gave up on random pointless sex with people I barely knew. I was happy. He made me happy. I think I actually loved him; well, as much as this little heart could love. He was my every moment... And my every moment was stolen from me. My love was taken from me. My happiness was removed from my life. Someone found out. Someone knew. Someone who clearly has never experienced Harry's smile that is to die for. The hardest thing I've ever had to do in my entire life, was walk through that door. His lifeless body. His soul-less being. My lover. My Harry."

I couldn't tell them anymore. I couldn't go on with the story. I had to get out of there.

Before anyone in my old family could stop me, or even realize what I was about to do, I booked it out of this prison of a house. A house that I will always remember these thoughts in now. I don't remember how exactly I got home, but I remember cold tears racing down my face. I thought back to that day about a week ago, when my heart broke and my life fell apart. I was now so alone. I walked over into the bedroom and laid down on my side of the bed. I looked over at his, the last place I had seen him, and whispered, "One day love, I'll see you again. I'll lay beside you, and you can tell me the story of your life again, because you know how much I like to hear it. You can break where you always do, when I come into the story, and you can reach over and squeeze my hand like you always do. I miss you terribly, and I'm sorry for my past. You will be my future once again. I love you..."

I then summon my video recorder to my side, and recite the past few weeks events, my tragic lose of my lover, and end on one final happy note...

"Hi. My name is Draco Malfoy, and I have suicidal tendencies. This time I succeed."

"Hi. My name is Narcissa Malfoy, and that was my son's last confession. He was in love with a man he shouldn't have been, and it made him as happy as he's ever been. That man, the one loved by so many, was loved by my son. That man, was killed by the one my son tried to stand up against. Harry Potter was killed by the only person my son ever truly feared... His father, Lucius Malfoy. Once Lucius got wind that Draco, our son, was fornicating with the "Enemy", he set out to kill Harry Potter. And. He Did."

The beautiful, and forever mournful, mother of Draco Malfoy, walked down the steps from the podium to her one and only child's coffin. She slowly slid her hand along the coffin, reminiscing about her fallen child. She reached a picture of Draco that stood just to the side of the coffin, and lightly kissed her two fingers and placed it gently about his photo's cheek, whispering, "I do not blame you for what has happened Draco. I blame him. I blame your father. I blame your own personal demon from which you almost got away from. I love you Dray. You meant the world to me..." She sighed, a single tear ran down her cheek, "You are now in a happy place. The one place where you can see his smile, the one that makes you melt on the inside. The smile that makes your knees weak. The man who died. Your man. Your lover... Your life."