Warning: Depression, suicidal thoughts, self-harm of different varieties, sexual interactions, yaoi.

Disclaimer: I do not own any of the characters in this story.

Requiem for the Living

Chapter One

Screams and silence. That was all he could hear. It was all he could handle. It was all he could remember. Harry Potter lay face up in his four-poster bed. The velvet red sheets seemed too hot under his already burning skin. The sounds of snoring coming from the other side of the room seemed too distant to be reality. The red color of the curtains seemed to only remind him of the one thing he did have in common with the rest of his kind. It was rushing in his skin. He closed his eyes. He could almost feel it in his veins. Life.

His eyes were dry and his muscles were exhausted. His lids seemed heavy and Harry Potter hadn't slept in three weeks. Every time he tried he woke up to Ron's terrified face and his own body covered in sweat and his ever-so-familiar scar burning and burning.

Flashes and green light and friendly faces falling to the ground, lifeless. The familiar laughter of insanity and those eyes. Those red eyes, always burned into his retinas. These were the things he saw in his sleep. So three weeks ago, he chose not to see them anymore.

7 am. Early enough to get up. Harry Potter brushed his teeth and washed his face and combed his hair, not that it did much good, and got dressed and did what usual people do in the morning. He grabbed the shaving razor and ran his hand over the slight stubble on his face. He brought it to his arm and dug into his skin, leaving a riveting trail of life. Oh wait… That's not normal. I guess Harry Potter wasn't so usual after all… He looked down at the red line on his arm. No look crossed his face. No smile, no grimace, nothing. He didn't think he could smile anymore. However, his eyes did lighten and there was a spark of the vibrant green that used to be. Almost unnoticeable to anyone except to someone who would understand. And no one understood Harry Potter. He was…

Alone.

Harry walked into the great hall. The usual chatter turned into a hushed silence and he could feel many eyes on him. Searching, probing, questioning, worrying, whatever. It didn't matter. It was always the same. Ever since the end of the war, everyone left him alone. They were scared he might just lose it at any second and become the next dark lord or whatever. Not that that thought didn't slightly amuse Harry.

This morning however he could feel a pair of eyes drilling into the back of his head. A pair that wasn't usually on him. He casually glanced over his shoulder to find a pair of smoldering silver eyes on his. They kept staring at each other, maybe like a contest? Harry wasn't sure. But usually everything was a contest between them. A rivalry. Always trying to dominate the other. Malfoy's eyes turned dark and they darting down to Harry's arm. Harry blinked and Malfoy was eating, yes focused on his plate.

Did he just imagine that? Confused, he turned back around to his plate. A spot of red caught his eyes and they widened.

Shit…

He was so weak from lack of sleep and food that his glamour was fading and blood from earlier was soaked on his sleeve. Had Malfoy seen it? Or was he just crazy?

Ron and Hermione came and sat next to him.

"Harry, you must at this morning… Please."

He shook his head.

"Mate, common. Even if your not hungry try to eat a piece of toast."

He sighed and picked up a piece taking a small bite of the corner. He looked at Ron and Hermione and nodded, picked up his books and left to go to class. Potions might be enjoyable now that Snape was gone.

Draco Malfoy was not one to care about anyone. Malfoys looked after themselves and that was pretty much it. He only cared about two things in this world. Himself, and his beautiful rare solid black eagle owl. He was also not one to be interested in other people unless it served him however, Potter was looking like death. And Malfoy knew what death looked like. Not that he was worried or anything, just curious.

Everyone had gone through the war and suffered because of it. Most had found a happy ending. A few witnessed horrors beyond imagination and were never to be happy because of it. Malfoy and Potter were two of those people. I mean, he did expect Potter to be able to cope somehow, with all his fans and being the boy who saved the world, the hero, being in the paper. He half expected him to marry that Weasley girl and have kids and a hut somewhere and maybe be able to at least forget what happened. He didn't expect Potter to walk into the great hall looking like he did.

He walked slowly, almost drudgingly, hair was as unruly as ever and hadn't been cut in a while. Hung around the base of his neck like a mop of something most ragged and untamed. His clothes were either far too large or he was just getting too skinny. His skin was pale to the point of sickly and his eyes. His eyes struck Draco to the core. They were deep and empty and almost a rusty dark green. It was if someone had taken his eyes out and just left gaping eye sockets. It almost was haunting.

Harry turned around and looked right at Draco. He thought to turn away, but he was a Malfoy and Malfoy's don't look away. He had nothing to be ashamed of.

Fuck Potter.

It wasn't his fault for looking so damned tortured. Gryffindors should be braver then that and suck it the fuck up. His eyes caught something red. He glanced down at Potter's arm and his throat closed up. He cleared his throat and looked back down to his plate. Suddenly he was very hungry. He needed to get to potions class.

He finished his food, all the while itching his wrist.

Chapter one is done. I hope you enjoyed it. I welcome reviews and advice. I have a pretty good idea where I would like this story to go, but I always welcome new ideas if you have any. Flames are for immature people, so common, be an adult. I should have the next chapter in a day or two.