The Harry Potter series, Harry himself, Draco, or any other character I may mention belong to J.K.R., except for the creepy guy in the hall who has no name! He's mine…wait, that's a bad thing… --chelsea

Draco walked down the dark corridor alone. His footsteps echoing on the walls were the only sound aside from his breath, which was coming short and frightened. Draco liked the dark and damp; he lived for it. But that night, he kept getting the feeling that someone or something was following him; hunting him down.

He increased his pace, trying not to run. He was too old to be afraid of the dark and shadows. But the chill on his spine couldn't be shaken. The seventeen-year-old glanced over his shoulder, walking another step faster, and screeched to a halt centimeters before crashing headlong into a figure that hadn't been in the hall a moment before. "Excuse me," Draco muttered, not at all himself that evening, but preferring to duck his head and run than get snotty and fight with someone, especially if the person turned out to be a teacher. He started to go around, but was caught around the collar. The other person pulled him back in front of them.

"What was that?" an icy voice whispered.

"E-excuse me," Draco repeated. The voice laughed quietly, and Draco could identify it as a male, most likely older than him.

"I don't think we've met. What's your name?" Draco didn't answer, but tried to leave again. "Ah-! I'll say when you can go," he said, grabbing Draco again. "What's your name?"

"Draco. Draco Malfoy. What's yours?" he asked, forgetting that he wasn't in the mood for snotty remarks. And when he was being snotty to people he couldn't see all that well, in the dark, that were clearly older and bigger than he was, without Crabbe and/or Goyle, he was pretty much in trouble.

"That's for me to know, and you to find out. Maybe." The smooth way the offender had breathed the word 'maybe' sent more shivers through Draco's spine, and he swallowed almost audibly. The older man laughed once more, and Draco stared at the ground until a finger slipped under his chin, forcing him to look up.

Draco couldn't see much in the dark, but he could tell that the man had hair longer and eyes colder than his own. Draco barely managed not to gasp at the stare penetrating his heart, and he turned his face, clenching his eyes shut. His head was pulled back around.

"What house are you in…Draco?"

"S-Slytherin…" he muttered, terrified.

"How old are you?" The man almost seemed genuinely interested, but Draco knew it was an act. He just didn't know why.

"Seventeen," he answered quietly.

"Beautiful." Draco kept his eyes shut, and the man took a hold of his neck and led him down the hall. Draco didn't look, or even think about, where they were going. He just walked. He didn't know what would happen, but he knew that if he ran he would get hurt, if not worse. He heard a door open, though he'd thought he'd heard several others open as well. It shut closed behind him and was locked. Draco felt the man's hand brush his thigh, which sent another sweeping shiver through his bones. "Open your eyes, Draco." He didn't, couldn't; he was too afraid. "I said open your eyes!" A hand met his cheek, and Draco did as he was told. "Now look at me." Draco did.

Just enough moonlight was coming in for Draco to make out the man's pale skin and deep eyes. It was too dark to make out a color, but Draco would always think of them as dark, deep water: deeply black, but simultaneously transparent. It was frightening, and Draco quickly looked away again.

"Look at me!" the man snapped, whipping his head back around. Draco opened his eyes and met the pair staring at him, trying to hide the tears shimmering in his own. The man smiled. "Good. I like it when kids cry. Go ahead and bawl." Draco didn't; his pride wouldn't let him try. "Fine. Have it your way." Draco was grabbed by the hair and dragged across the room, then splayed out on one of the empty tables.

"W-what--?" Draco managed to strangle out, the previous tears disappearing.

"Shh…" the man said, placing a finger to Draco's lips. "Tell me, what's the one thing you want more than anything?" Draco stared at the man above him, unable to comprehend what he'd been asked. More than anything…? Draco knew what it was; it was on the tip of his tongue. But he could never have it.

"I-it doesn't matter," he whispered, the tenseness in his body slipping away.

"Come now, there must be something…"

"I said it doesn't matter!" Draco growled, getting angry.

"Alright! Don't bite me, god's sake…" The two of them stared for a short while, though it felt like an eternity to Draco. The older man slipped off Draco's long robes and was loosening his tie before Draco realized what was happening.

"Hey!" he exclaimed. "What the hell do you think you're doing!"

"Making you more comfortable," he answered coolly.

"I don't want to get 'comfortable', I want to go to bed!" Draco insisted as his tie was pulled away from his neck.

"I can give you what you want," the man whispered.

"What?" Draco exhaled, not believing what he'd heard.

"I can give you what you want," he repeated.

Draco dropped his head to the table. "No you can't."

"Tell me what it is…"

"No," Draco said. "Let me go."

The man chuckled softly. "I can't do that." His fingers began unfastening Draco's shirt buttons.

"Stop it," he murmured.

"You don't seem to have much conviction in you," the man teased. Draco's temper rose a little.

"Get off me," he said, more sternly.

"That's better. But I want you to get really mad." Draco couldn't wrap his mind around what was happening. What did this guy want? "C'mon… Try it."

"No. Now get off."

"That's better," he said, opening the shirt and pushing it off his body. "Again," he instructed, undoing his pants. Draco didn't want to give the man what he wanted, but he was beginning to panic.

"No! Get offa me!" he shrieked, trying to kick.

"Good… You're fighting back."

"No," Draco whined. "Get away!" The man flipped off Draco's shoes and grabbed the cuffs of his pants, pulling them away. Draco tried to hold onto them, but they were wrenched from his grip and tossed to the floor. Draco crawled back a little on the table as the man came towards him. "No… Leave me alone… Please!" Draco could hardly believe he'd said 'please', but he didn't care. He didn't want this going any further than it already had. As Draco tried to climb off the other side, the man grabbed his arm. Draco gasped at the touch. It was ice cold and strong enough to snap his bones if the fancy called for it.

"I can't let you go now. We've just got started." Draco closed his eyes again as the man pulled him back towards him. "Don't do that," the man sighed. Draco held his eyes tightly shut as his boxers, his last defense, were ripped from his body. His eyes only opened when he was bit. Draco let out a yelp of pain and surprise, as blood trickled down his neck. The older man licked it away and sucked on the wound for a few moments before Draco could try to push him off. The man laughed, and left the cut to bleed as he quickly removed his own clothing. Draco considered just running for the door and getting clothes in his dormitory, but his wand was in his robes, and he couldn't do without it. Just as he was putting a foot to the floor, the man pushed him back down. "Ah-ah…"

Draco turned his face away, thick, warm blood getting on his cheek in the process. "Please let me go," he begged.

"No way," the man said. He drew Draco's face back towards himself, but his eyes were closed again. "Scream."

"No," Draco answered weakly. The man slammed his head down against the table.

"Scream."

"No." It was hardly a whisper.

"Fine. I'll make you scream." Draco bit his lip, terrified. The man flipped Draco over onto his stomach and pushed his legs aside, spreading them. He put his mouth to the small of Draco's back and bit, drawing more blood. He sucked on it for a while, leaving a bruise. Then his fingers played at Draco's small entrance.

First, he slipped in only one, and Draco's eyes snapped open again. He moved it in and out, in and out, each motion pulling a sound from Draco. A second finger joined the first, and Draco shivered visibly. A third finger was pressed in, and the three separated, widening the hole. Draco swallowed and then cried out when the man forced a larger appendage in. Draco was holding his eyes closed as tightly as he could, and was trying to hold them tighter. Tears were leaking out the corners as the man moved himself inside, and Draco was biting his tongue to keep from screaming at the top of his lungs as he felt skin rip and tear, giving way to the foreign object. Blood was dripping from his lips and shoulder, but he didn't care; he didn't really even realize it.

Draco suddenly screamed when the man came inside him, his semen burning the open wounds on Draco. For nearly five solid minutes, Draco could do nothing but shriek and sob as the man redressed himself. "That's right," he encouraged. "Scream all you want. No one can hear you." Draco looked at him, tears still sliding down his cheeks, and wiped his face with the back of his hand. "I've soundproofed the room. You can scream and holler to your heart's content, and no one will ever know."

Draco swallowed the blood welling in his mouth, suddenly aware of its presence. He began to cough and sputter, nearly choking on the blood. It sprayed out of his mouth with each cough, covering his front in blood. The man merely watched him, then sighed.

"Well…" he sighed. He pulled out his wand, and with a flick, all bleeding stopped, though Draco didn't notice. Another flick and the blood was mostly gone. "You'll definitely want to shower before bed." Draco stared at him incredulously. Then the man walked out the door, closing it quietly behind himself.

Draco took a deep, shaking breath and his eyes began to stream again, and he stayed there, howling for a long while before finally going back to his dormitory. He fell onto his bed, fully clothed and fell asleep.

He awoke with a start the next morning, hearing Blaze calling his name.

"What…?" was his drowsy answer.

"You're going to be late," Blaze warned. "I'm leaving, but you'd better get up. I'm not covering for your drunk ass again!"

"Alright," Draco murmured, the memory of the previous night flooding his mind as he looked at the dried blood on his arm. "I might be down by lunch." Blaze left with an exasperated sigh. Draco fell back onto his pillows and stared at the top of his canopy. Tears blurred his vision, but they didn't fall. He waited until the late bell for the first class had rung before gathering clothes and going to the bathroom.

He ran a tub of steaming, soapy water and climbed in, hissing at the high temperature. After a few minutes, he grew used to the heat, and washed away the blood and what semen was left on him. Then he just sat, soaking. Actually, he fell asleep there, not waking again until the dinner bell was ringing. He gathered his bearings quickly and dressed. He raced to his dormitory, deposited his dirty clothes, and ran down to dinner, entering "fashionably late", as always.

Few people looked up when he came in, and he walked, as though on autopilot, to the Slytherin table. He put some food on his plate, not even noticing what it was, and shoveled bite after bite into his mouth. He didn't see the strange looks he was getting, or think about much of anything. He would have rather been downstairs, in bed. Or, better yet, dead. Just about anything was preferable to being violated like that and then going to dinner the next evening.

After eating two helpings, all of which tasted like ashes, Draco stood and walked out. More people watched him leave than when he came in. He wandered around the castle, unsure where he was going or what he was doing. He eventually found himself at the library. He shrugged and walked in, thinking he could pretend to be doing research for homework if someone found him.

He walked through the shelves of books, glancing at them, but taking nothing in. He stopped at a gap in the books and just stood still, staring through blankly, until a face appeared on the other side. A pair of bright green eyes blinked at him. Draco's steel-grey blinked back. The face moved away, black hair swaying slightly, but Draco stayed where he was, again lost in his own mind. A hand touched his shoulder. Draco's head snapped in the direction of the other person.

"What?" he asked, meaning to snap it, but somehow forgetting. It came out rather meek.

"What… What happened to your neck?" Harry asked quietly.

"Nothing," Draco said, the snap back in his voice, and slapped a hand over the scabbing wound.

"It doesn't look too good…" Harry murmured, withdrawing his hand slowly. Draco looked at the floor, feeling miserable.

"It's fine…"

Harry looked at him, knowing differently, but didn't push the point. He merely stepped around Draco and continued looking for his book. Draco began following Harry, not entirely intentionally, but subconsciously he was. Harry was getting a little creeped out by Draco following him, and after nearly an hour, he decided to address the issue.

"Why are you following me?" he asked quietly. Draco snapped out of his reverie, and realized he was following Harry. Draco blinked, going red in the face.

"I don't know… I just am."

Harry swallowed. "Do you…need something?" Draco shrugged.

"Maybe." Harry looked at him. His eyes were down cast, and his shoulders were slumped forward, as though tired or embarrassed.

"What is it?"

Draco's bottom lip began to tremble, and he turned away from Harry. "It's nothing. Never mind." He started to walk away, but stopped when Harry grabbed his wrist.

"Wait. Please… What's wrong?"

Draco didn't look back at him, afraid that he would see his tears; that he would laugh. "It's stupid."

"Listen, the only thing stupid is you not saying what's wrong. If something is bothering you, say so. It's not like you to keep something bottled up." Draco turned around to face Harry.

"Not like me? What do you know about what is and isn't like me? You barely even know me!"

"We've been classmates for nearly seven years. We might not've been friends, but that doesn't mean I don't know a thing or two about you."

"You don't know anything everyone doesn't know!"

"I-…" Harry sighed. "Draco, I know you don't think anyone thinks or cares about you. Or your desires. Or feelings. Or thoughts. I know you think you've cut off everyone. But you're wrong. I know you drink. And I know not everyone knows that."

"I do not-" Draco started, but stopped as Harry pulled a small bottle of whiskey from Draco's robes.

"I also know most of your hiding places. There's a bottle under your bed. One in your drawer. And your sock on bad days. And your pillowcase."

Draco blinked. "How could you…?"

"Those are my hiding places too. But I water down my booze a little. You don't. You're usually drunk long before bedtime. And all weekend long. But it's okay, 'cause no one knows. Or cares, right?"

Draco blinked again. "How the hell…?"

Harry smiled. "It's magic, Draco."

Draco shook his head. "No. It's more than that. Magic is every day here. This is… something different."

"It's 'Muggle Magic'. Well, what they would call magic. An unexplainable connection, allowing a deep, inside look into someone else's soul."

"Sure. Whatever," Draco said, grabbing back his alcohol.

"Draco," Harry said as he started to leave again. "You still haven't told me what's wrong."

"Why do you care so much?"

"Because you're trying to reach out to me. So I'm reaching back. But I can't reach all the way."

Draco looked at Harry, his eyes watering over again. Harry saw it just in time to catch Draco as he threw himself against Harry, sobbing. Harry took them to the floor, sitting, holding Draco carefully. He whispered to him, telling him it was alright. That he was going to be fine. Draco began to calm himself a little a long while later, and became aware that Harry was petting his hair, speaking to him softly.

Draco lifted his head and wiped his eyes on his sleeve, wondering why Harry had let him cry on him. Why he had held him; stayed with him. He took a few deep breaths, and then murmured an apology, moving to stand. Harry took his hand.

"Draco, you can tell me." Draco stared at him, wanting to believe that he could. Wanting to believe that Harry wouldn't see him as something beneath him; something disgusting and ruined. Draco didn't think he could tell Harry, but before he could say no and leave, he was pouring out everything that had happened the night before. Harry watched and listened as Draco grew hysterical once more, and held him against his chest when he couldn't talk anymore.

He calmed down again eventually, and apologized to Harry once more. Harry smiled. "It's alright. There's nothing to be ashamed of, Draco." Draco looked at him, wondering.

"There isn't?" he whispered.

"No," Harry answered, shaking his head. "You didn't ask for that to happen; you didn't choose to be…" Harry's sentence trailed off, unfinished. "Listen to me. I know a lot of shit happens, and more than most of it hurts, and when something really bad happens you just want to lie down and die. But you can't just give up because of it. You've got to keep going, if for no reason other than to show the world that you can. I've known you since our first day here, and you've never been one to back down from anything. So don't let this break you."

"B-but… I… Harry, I've been… How can I just…go on? Who would ever want someone like…like me?" Draco asked.

"Draco, if someone can put up with your generally surly and somewhat sour mood, I don't think they're going to leave just because of last night." Draco was watching Harry's hands fidget with the hem of his robes. "It might come as a shock to some, but the right person will understand and love you."

"L-like…like it never happened?" Draco asked quietly.

"Well, sort of. To them, it will never be as big a problem as it is to you. But it didn't happen to them, so that's okay. Right?" Draco nodded feebly. Harry pulled out a handkerchief from his robes and wiped away some drying tears from Draco's face. "So don't let this ruin your life. Deal with it, certainly, but don't let it make you think you're less than anyone else. That you aren't worth anything. Because you are." Harry put the handkerchief away and stood up. Draco stayed where he was, looking at Harry.

"What?" Draco whispered. Harry looked at him, unsure what he was asking. "What am I…worth?" Harry smiled.

"A hell of a lot more than you realize." Draco merely looked on, wanting to know. "It's a lot of trouble to get to know much about you, but you're definitely worth the effort. For seven years I've been picking up little bits and pieces of information about you, and I have to say that we are remarkably similar in several ways. But then, there're a lot of differences too. But, you are worth every minute spent. And if I had to choose between knowing nothing about you and doing all my research again, I would do it a thousand times over." Draco's eyes were glassing over with tears again. But not of shame or embarrassment, rather because of a feeling deep in his heart that was glowing out towards the rest of himself. Draco stood and hugged Harry, who returned it, awkwardly at first, but soon comfortably.

"Thank you," Draco whispered. Harry smiled.

"You're welcome."

"You…you meant it all, right?"

"Yes. Every word, Draco," Harry said, nodding. Draco held him tighter.

"Thank you. This is all I've ever wanted," Draco smiled against Harry's shoulder.

"I know." Harry gently placed a kiss on Draco's forehead, and placed his head on Draco's shoulder.---