Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter or anything affiliated with Harry Potter. This is not written for profit and I obviously make no money. I write simply for my own entertainment and no monetary gain.

Author's Note: This is NOT a happy tale, nor is it a "quick fix fic", but know that it will also have a happyish ending. This story is also archived at Adult under the name CerberusSky. That site is currently down and my monster needed a new home, though this rating will have to be lowered here since in all actuality BMAO is NC-17.

Warnings: Slash themes, strong adult language,drama, angst, angst and more angst, mental illness, alcoholism, blatant disregard for HBP.Perhaps some others I may've overlooked here.Some may find this fic to be OOC and/or AU. I don't agree too much with the former, but eh . . . on the latter. Maybe it is, maybe it isn't. You be the judge.

Draco's Secrets

Road I ride'll be the death of me
Won't you come along and stay?
Road I ride is gonna set me free
It's gonna take me home

Draco Malfoy listened carefully for any sounds of his parents coming to check on him. Not hearing anything, he sighed gratefully and pulled the bottle of whiskey from its hiding place in his cloak and took a large gulp. Warm fire raced down his throat and curled in his belly. He grinned at the slightly foggy feeling he was starting to get.

He'd been nipping on his bottle all day. He was glad he'd thought to pack several more bottles. Although, the use of the word 'several' was really an understatement. He had a whole trunk filled with nothing but liquor . . . and a couple of extra bottles stuck in other pieces of luggage.

He snorted at the thought, at once amused and disgusted at his 'just in case' supplies. You know, Draco, you've become quite the slosher. Among other things, he thought to himself, as he idly fingered a still oozing cut on his upper arm, wincing at the not unpleasant sting.

He was ripped from his musings by a roar from downstairs, "DRACO! Get your ass down here RIGHT NOW," Lucius Malfoy said, "You're going to miss your train and that's one more embarrassment I don't need from you right now."

Prick, Draco thought, saying out loud though, "Yes father, I'll be right there."

Taking one more nip from his bottle, he tucked it back in his cloak and began to gather his things.

"Draco, are you feeling ok?" his mother asked as they stood at the platform waiting for the Hogwart's Express.

"As a matter of fact, Mother, I am feeling more than alright," Draco smiled, enjoying his buzz and the now throbbing ache from the cuts on his arms.

"You just seem a bit . . . out of sorts . . .," she said, trailing off, confused at her son's slouching posture against the post.

"Shut up, Mother," he snarled. Fucking buzzkill, who the hell was she to ask him those questions. Like she cared soooo much. He scoffed at her daring to act like a caring parent.

She had totally been AWOL after his father jumped on him for listening to music. Not just any music though, Muggle music. Where was she when his lips were busted and his eyes were black? Not with him, that was for damn sure. She never had been, either. Well, fuck her.

Yet, at the same time, he winced. It hurt to have your parents essentially ignore you unless you did something wrong. All they were interested in was image. The joke was on Lucius though. He hadn't thrown out the cds he had. He'd hidden them and now they rested cozily in his carry on bag with the small Muggle cd player he had bought as well. He couldn't wait to listen to the music that at once stroked his passions and broke his heart.

Once more his musing was interrupted, this time by a stinging slap to the back of his head.

"Stand up straight, you damned disgrace," snapped his father, shaking him roughly just for emphasis.

Draco slid back up the wall and assumed the terribly rigid Malfoy posture, as was expected of him. Kind of hard to do when you're about three sheets though, he thought muzzily. But he did it. Better to do that than risk more wrath (and public humiliation).

"You need to go and get on the platform on the other side, son," his mother said, anxious to end the tension there in the sunny Muggle train depot.

"Thas a grand idea, Mother,"Draco replied, flinching as he slurred the first word a little, he knew they couldn't smell it on him, he'd charmed all of his whiskey to be odorless. He also knew they weren't totally daft and if he did that sort of thing too many times, they'd begin to question him. Luckily neither of them seemed to have noticed this time.

Mentally composing himself, he said, "Well, I am going to shove off now. See you winter holidays."

With that he took a lurching start that thankfully became a run and hurtled onto the platform on the other side just as the Hogwart's Express pulled into the station. He skidded to a halt, swaying a bit unsteadily as he did so, nearly toppling over. He just managed to stifle a giggle at what he would've found really amusing. He would've landed right on Ginny Weasley.

"Be careful, Malfoy," she admonished, eyeing him and the strangely glazed look in his pale grey eyes.

"Shut it, Weasley," he mumbled, still trying to contain his drunken giggle. It would've looked most inappropriate the way he'd have landed. Too bad it wasn't Potter. That wouldn't have been funny though, that would've been . . . he chased the thought from his mind and slouched off near the back of the crowd.

Looking around to see if anyone was watching he began to slip his trusty bottle out of its hiding place. He paused for a moment to reconfirm that he was alone, then brought the bottle to his lips, fumbling with the cap for only a split second. Then he drank deeply, greedily swallowing as much of the dark amber liquid as he could in the few seconds he had.

His head now swimming pleasantly once more, he made his way back to the boarding platform to await his turn. He looked around for Crabbe and Goyle, hell, even that skag Pansy Parkinson would do. He was feeling quite social at the moment. However, none of his cronies were in sight. He stopped turning his head every which way then and stared straight ahead. Draco jumped, for right in front of him stood a certain boy with messy black hair.

Mmm, Draco thought, What I wouldn't do to have a handful of that gorgeous hair while its owner's tongue explored my mouth. He promptly lost himself in the fantasies he'd been having of Potter for close to five years now.

First year, sex had been the farthest thing from his mind. As it had been for the first half of their second year. But after winter holidays that same year he had began to see Harry Potter in a different light. Now he was almost a grown man, sleekly muscled with shoulders much broader than Draco would ever have thought he'd end up with.

"What's on with you, Malfoy?" Harry asked, pulling a drunken Draco out of his fantasies. He was giving Malfoy a look that fell somewhere between disgust and wary curiosity.

Harry had turned around with the intense feeling of being watched. Was he ever shocked to find Draco Malfoy gawking at him with a faraway look in his eyes. Something about that look made Harry gulp, it was predatory in a way, but not the usual Malfoy glare at all. There was something else in those pale grey eyes and the sweat-sheened face (Sweat, Harry thought, Why is he sweating. It's not at all hot out.)

Before Malfoy had even opened his mouth to answer him, the cluster of students they were grouped into was ushered onto the train. Draco hurriedly shoved past Harry to get onto the train first. Harry couldn't help but notice that Draco staggered a bit, then nearly stumbled on the steps.

Odd, was all Harry thought, his curiosity starting to get the better of him. He quickly followed Draco onto the noisy train, still puzzling over the other boy's strange behavior.

An hour or so later Harry was still watching Draco from the corner of his eye. He was making his way back up the aisle from what Harry figured had been about his sixth trip to the loo since they had boarded. He'd made sure to pick a seat near Draco's and was trying hard to focus on his conversation with Ron and Hermione about their respective summers.

Yet, almost to his relief, they had soon lapsed into an argument and pretty much forgot he was there. It gave him a chance to watch Malfoy closer and he knew there was something going on. He looked borderline unkempt for one thing. He had noticed him constantly raking his slender fingers through his usually hurricane-proof hair. Now his hair was sticking up all over his head and flopping across his forehead.

What really struck Harry as strange though was that Malfoy was alone. All of his goons were sitting well away from him. He had noticed them walking by the blonde boy, giving him strange looks or making whispered comments. Only Crabbe and Goyle had tried to sit with Draco and engage him in conversation. After only a few minutes though, he had seen Malfoy's lip curl into a sneer that bordered on a snarl and shoo them away as well.

Now Draco had once again staggered back to his seat and curled himself into a tight ball, as though to take a nap. Harry raised his eyebrows once more, noting that he had been doing that a lot while watching the other boy. Sure enough, Draco closed his eyes and was soon snoring contentedly, oblivious to all that was going on around him.

"What's up with that idgit," Ron asked, distracted from his argument with Hermione for the time being, "I saw him come back from the toilets and the little freak looks totally whacked." He laughed a bit after that statement, glaring at Malfoy with unveiled contempt.

"I dunno," was Harry's reply, "I noticed him when we first boarded. He got on before me and didn't seem at all like himself."

"Ah, well, fuck that little bastard," was Ron's retort, "Maybe he's sick. Oooh maybe he's even dying. That'd be nice."

"Ron! That was really cruel," said Hermione, "I know he's a prat, but really."

"Oh c'mon Hermione, you want him dead almost as much as I do," Ron answered, snorting indignantly.

"Well, I may do, but I would NEVER say it out loud," she sniffed.

Jumping into the conversation, Harry said, "I don't like him any better than you two. But I don't want anyone dead. Sheesh you guys."

Once more, Harry turned his attentions to the sleeping boy. As he watched, Draco shifted in his sleep, pulling up the sleeve of his robe a bit. Harry bit back a gasp as he saw the deep cuts on his lower arm, and the older scars that criss-crossed beneath them. Somehow he knew the cuts he could see weren't the only ones he had. Or the first by the looks of it, he thought, shocked at what he was looking at.

What the hell was going on! Malfoy was cutting himself now and apparently had been for quite some time. He didn't understand, but he definitely wanted to. He resolved right then and there to get to the bottom of this mystery.

"Geeze, Harry, quit looking at that . . . thing," Ron cut in, "Why are you suddenly so interested in Malfoy?"

"Look at his arm, there's cuts all over it," Harry whispered to his two friends.

"Good. Maybe the shithead will hit an artery one day and we'll be spared another year of his presence," Ron quipped, not even bothering to glance in Malfoy's direction.

Harry noticed that Hermione had not looked either, in fact she had almost grinned at Ron's reply. He was ashamed of them. He never had thought of them as so cold-blooded before. But, in the same breath, he had to admit their reactions were to be expected. Malfoy had treated the three of them horribly from the start. But he couldn't help himself. The blonde boy looked so frail and . . . damaged laying there that Harry couldn't help feeling a little sorry for him.

He rolled his eyes as Ron and Hermione began to argue again. They should just get a room, was Harry's thought, he knew they were sleeping together. He smirked at the thought, even as he sighed inwardly. He had to admit, he was lonely and wanted someone of his own. Maybe one day, he mused, his eyes unconsciously drifting back to Malfoy.

"Hey guys," he said, cutting in on what was becoming a rather . . . passionate quarrel between Ron and Hermione, "We're almost there, we need to start gathering our things."

His timing, he realized, had been a bit off as he looked out the window. They were there.

"Wassgoinon," a sleepy voice asked.

Harry looked over to Malfoy and saw him groggily looking around as though he didn't know where he was or how he'd gotten there.

"School," was Harry's answer, "Snap out of it Malfoy and get your shit together."

He couldn't help it, he was still staring at the cuts that were visible on Malfoy's arm and Malfoy had noticed. Shit!, thought Harry.

"What the fuck are you looking at, Potter," Draco snapped, self consciously tugging his sleeve down.

"Erm . . . nothing. Nothing at all," Harry replied, glancing around nervously, "We need to go though. See you."

Lyrics quoted at the top are from "Love Song for Bobby Long" by Grayson Capps.