Running With the Monster
Chapter Two: Dear Jamie…Sincerely Me

Disclaimer: I do not own or claim to own Harry Potter. I'm poor, so don't sue. I can only dream that anyone in the HP universe is gay. This story is totally fictional, and my idea. But it was inspired by a scene is the television show, The 4400, and the movie, Wasted. I don't own those either. And the title is a song by Hellogoodbye.

Warnings: This story will have slash in it. In the form of the couple: Harry and Draco. There are VERY MANY references to drug use and abuse in this story. It's the very bases of it. If that offends you or you feel as though you wont be able to read it, don't!

Summary: AU. Almost a year after graduation, Draco goes searching for Harry. When he finds him, Draco realizes that he may not be able to take the Boy-Who-Lived back. With memories over-whelming him, is Draco ready to help Harry face his demons?

Final Note: Yeah…I'm sorry. So, I'm sorry. I know that some people enjoyed the first chapter of this story so much. And I never wrote another chapter. I'm sorry. Like real bad sorry.

The only things Draco had to ensure him that his two months with Harry actually happened were fuzzy memories and a couple moving photographs.

He wasn't exactly sure how he got the photographs. One day they were in his post and he could never trace it back to the sender.

He had to stay at the hospital for over a week. And after that he checked into a residential rehab clinic.

Until the point of actually getting out of the clinic he had the bruises. There was the set on his hips which were undoubtedly put there by Harry's hands. Also there was a set around his arm that he knew was put there on the way to the hospital that night.

But the bruises faded and Draco was sure that Harry's memory of him did also.

Yet he could never get the other man out of his mind.

Harry always seemed to lurk in the background of his mind, spouting off random things once a while that seemed to always make Draco smile.

But the Harry in his mind was no consolation for the pain he felt when the monster was leaving him. For the loneliness of the barren room in which he forced himself to stay in for twenty-eight long days.

The next morning Draco awoke with a start. He sat up in his bed abruptly and looked around frantically for whatever had woken him up.

But the room was empty.

He looked at the window, watching as the rays of light illuminated the entire room. He had chosen to paint the room yellow. The brightness of it was able to put him in a good mood, even after the worst of nightmares.

"I'm becoming some kind of Hufflepuff," he muttered to himself before getting out of the bed and going to the bathroom to get ready for his coffee date with Tayla.

He walked into the kitchen, his trousers unbuttoned and pulling a shirt over his head. He wasn't surprised to hear the familiar sound of someone moving around. He could already feel himself getting stuck in the shirt. He stopped walking and took a few deep breaths, trying to stave off the panic attack. Cold hands grazed his arms and he was soon looking into the smiling face of Tayla.

"There you go love," she stated, before turning back and re-entering the kitchen. Draco followed her, buttoning his pants up.

"Are we having coffee here then?" he questioned as he watched her busy herself with the coffee maker.

"No, we are still going out. But I know we both need some caffeine in our bodies before we'll be worth anything. So I let myself in to make us some."

Draco knew she was right and took the mug she put into his hands. He lifted the mug to his face and inhaled the strong smell before taking a small sip of the coffee. He let the warmth enter his body, giving a sigh of relief as the last few remains of the panic attack were driven away.

The two friends sat in silence. Both drinking their coffee and thinking about very different subjects. Soon they were headed out the door and towards a café not far from Draco's flat.

"Maybe you should give him the letter?" Tayla insisted as they sat in a booth.

"No. Inside that envelope is my heart. I'm not going to send it to him. At least not while he's there, not while he's still running with the monster," Draco replied vehemently. His gaze wandered to the window as Tayla started to say something else.

"You should really give him the letter Draco. Maybe it'll make you feel better. Maybe it will turn him around."

"I'm not going to give him that letter based on a bunch of maybe's. It may cause something to happen to him. And I'm not going to let that happen. Not to the one guy I ever loved," Draco answered, "Not now. Not unless I'm there with him when he opens it."

"Why'd you go to him last night?"

Draco's gaze shifted to her abruptly, "It would have been our one year anniversary. And for it, he was in the arms of another guy."

"You can't change the past Draco. You can't change what has already happened. All you can do is look towards the future and change what you are going to do. The only thing that you can control is yourself," Tayla stated, touching his hand, "You need to do whatever you need to make yourself happy. But don't risk all that you've gained to get him back. Don't risk falling back into that trap, Draco."

"I'm not going to relapse," Draco replied automatically. The two of them finished their coffee, talking about nothing important before heading their separate ways.

Draco entered his flat. Taking off his jacket and hanging it on the coat rack, he could hear noise from the living room. He felt his heartbeat start to race and opened the entryway closet, pulling a baseball bat out of it before closing the door softly.

He made his way towards the living room quietly, trying to figure out who it was. He knew it wasn't Tayla, because she had to work that day. Blaise and Pansy were in America for some reason or another. And that left none of his spare keys unaccounted for.

Peeking through the doorway to the living room, he was shocked to see a dark-haired, lithe form curled up on his couch. The person was asleep and covered in a blanket. The one arm that was over the blanket was covered in bruises and scratches.

Draco dropped the bat, and was thankful for the carpeted floor of the living room. His mind was whirling with the thought of Harry being in his apartment. He didn't think about the fact that the man had gotten in without a key or even the fact the man knew where he lived.

Watching the rise and fall of the sleeping man's chest, he was startled when the man sat up abruptly and started having a coughing fit. He stood where he was, watching the coughs wrack through the skinny form.

"I certainly didn't expect you to be here when I got back from coffee," Draco stated when the coughing subsided.

"I've been trying to quit. Caleb's been trying to pull me back in. When you came last night, it as like a match. Everything blew up," Harry replied, his voice was scratchy and Draco was sure that he was suffering from more than just withdrawals.

"Maybe you should check into a clinic."

Harry looked at him, his gaze intense, "They'll expect me to talk about it. I don't want to talk about it."

"I can't handle you here, Harry. If you go to the clinic I'll visit you all the time. But I can't let you stay here. Not until you are clean," Draco replied. He glanced over at the picture of him and Harry he had hanging on the wall.

Harry got up form the couch, moving to where Draco was standing. He brought his hand up to cup the pale cheek, rubbing it softly with calloused fingers. He leaned forward, but moved his mouth to Draco's ear, "I love you," he whispered. Draco didn't get a chance to reply, Harry disapparated seconds later.

Draco didn't move for many moments, he lifted his hand to his cheek, disbelievingly. He was soon shaken out of his ravine when his phone rang.

"Hello?"

"Draco! Are you coming into work today?"

Draco let out a sigh of relief, "Yes, of course."

"Do you think you could come in and take over Millie's shift? She's feeling ill and I can't find anyone else to take over for her."

"Yeah. I'll be there in a bit," he replied, already moving out the door, pulling his jacket on along the way.

"Thanks darling."

When the dial tone sounded he hung up the phone and put it into his pocket. He took a few deep breaths to calm himself as he made his way down the street once more.

By the time he had reached the large restaurant he worked at, Draco was calm once more. He entered through the employee's door, smiling to those that were taking their break outside to have a cigarette.

"How did they convince you to come in three hours early Drake?" asked one of his co-workers, surprisingly an ex-Gryffindor, Seamus Finnigan.

"Millie is sick and no one else will cover for her. I need the hours anyways," Draco replied.

"You need the hours?" Seamus raised a questioning eyebrow.

"Okay, so I need the distraction from my life right now. What better way than coming to work?" Draco retorted.

"I guess you're right."

"You know I am."

Draco pulled off his jacket, putting it into his locker, then pulling out his apron and tying it around his waist.

"Are there any parties right now?" he asked, as he put straightened the pens and such that were in his pockets.

"Not right now. But there is on in about an hour. And there are a few of our old classmates in Millie's section," Seamus answered, a look crossing his face.

"Oh joy," Draco replied, sarcasm dripping from his words. He clocked himself in as he walked out of the room.

His boss came over to him and told him what section he was taking over and pointed him in the right direction.

"Hi. My name's Draco and I'll be taking over as your server for the evening," he introduced himself when he reached the first table.

"Oh how the mighty have fallen," came the smug voice of one of the patrons at the table. Draco would know the voice of the weasel anywhere.

"Have you made a decision on what you want or would you like a few more moments?"

"We've made our decision," came the curt reply of the other patron, it was the voice of the know-it-all, "I'd like the chicken breast with the salad and steamed vegetables."

"And I'd like the sixteen ounce steak, medium rare, with the salad and baked potato."

Draco wrote both orders on his pad, taking the menus after he finished, he looked at both of them, asking, "Would you like me to pour some more wine for you?"

"Yes, thanks," Granger replied, handing her glass to him. Draco poured the wine with expert ease, a smile coming to his face when he remembered his first time.

"And you sir?" Draco asked, holding his hand out for the red-haired man's glass.

"Not right now, thank you," the other man replied, a scowl settling into his features.

"I'll have your salads right out," Draco stated before moving to put the order in.

Moving on to the next table, a group of elderly ladies, he put on his flirtatious face and got ready for the comments he was sure to receive. He knew this group well, "Ladies! What are you doing here so early on a Tuesday? You all know that I don't work until late on Tuesdays."

"Something just told me to come early today," the oldest of the ladies stated.

"You mean Izzie called to tell you that I'd be coming in early, and that you should to?"

"I don't know who this 'Izzie' girl you speak of is," one of the other two ladies replied.

"Who is she? We must meet her and become best friends is she is willing to tell us when you are on shift!" the last lady stated.

Draco laughed at their antics, taking their order. He grabbed Granger and Weasley's salads, and made his way back to their table.

"Here you are ma'am," he stated, placing Granger's in front of her. He sat Weasley's in front of him, "And sir," he took a step back, "Can I get you anything else?"

"No thank you," both replied.

Draco nodded his head before moving away from the tables. Millie's section hardly ever had more than four tables because the girl was prone to being forgetful. She was kept on staff because of her people skills.

Draco stood behind the bar waiting for his meals to be ready to be delivered. It was going to be a long night and he hoped that the weasel wouldn't do anything stupid.

When their meals were ready he took them to his two former classmates. He set Granger's in front of her first and than gave Weasley his. He was shocked when a freckled hand wrapped around his wrist, "Where's Harry?"

"Unhand me sir," Draco stated through clenched teeth. His heartbeat started racing.

"No until you tell me what you did with Harry," the youngest Weasley son stated.

"If you don't unhand me this instant, you will be escorted from the restaurant," Draco informed the irate red-head.

This had to have been building up all evening. Draco had made sure to be as kind as he could to the couple in hopes of nothing like this happening. He waited for the red-head to let go, but the man's grip just got tighter.

"You'll tell me what you did with my best friend if you know what's good for you. Or would you like fore me to tell the owner of this place what kind of person you really are?"

"Draco, is everything alright?" Brutus Jones, mostly called Brutal by the restaurant staff, asked Draco as he arrived next to the table.

Draco turned his grey eyes away from the weasel and looked at Brutal. He knew the moment at which Weasley had too, because the red-head dropped the other man's wrist, "Everything is fine."

"Okay, Drake. You know where to find me if you need me."

"Thank you, Brutus," Draco replied with a comforting smile. He watched the man retreat before turning to the couple at the table in front of him, "I haven't talked to Harry Potter since he left me at the hospital a few months ago. I have a job I need to get to, so if you are finished harassing me sir, I'd like to get back to work?"

Weasley nodded and Draco scoffed at the couple before walking towards the table where the older ladies were sitting. He needed someone to help him calm down. He felt the beginnings of a panic attack reaching to grab him.

The rest of the evening went quickly. Granger and Weasley left him and big tip, as had many of the other tables he waited on. He clocked out after he placed his apron back into his locker.

The walk home was comforting. He and Seamus walked together because they lived on the same street. They mainly talked about football, who was going to win the World Cup, or American politics, if the Americans would ever do something about the President Bush.

Tonight though, the topic strayed to more personal subjects. Seamus broke the silence, "I have the really bad attacks sometimes. My hands shake like I'm going through it all over again."

"I have panic attacks. I start to hyperventilate and it just feels like I won't ever stop. I've had about four in the past day," Draco pushed his hands deeper into his coat pockets. Only Tayla knew about the panic attacks.

"That's bound to be unhealthy. I would say that you should get something, but no one would subscribe a recovering addict anything."

"What are you going to do this weekend? Isn't your and Dean's anniversary coming up?" Draco questioned. The couple had been together since fifth year and Draco remembered Seamus saying something about it earlier in the week.

"Yeah, it's Friday. I'm taking him to the country. I've been saving up for a while for this. Got him a ring and everything," Seamus replied.

Draco felt a smile creeping onto his face, "Congratulations."

"Thanks mate," Seamus replied.

The conversation turned to football and both were arguing for their favorite teams when the arrived in front of Draco's apartment building.

"Later mate," Draco stated, bounding up the steps.

"See you," Seamus called out, hurrying down the street.

Draco let himself into his apartment, half expecting Harry to be there again, but the dark-haired man wasn't. Draco wasn't sure if the sigh he gave was of relief or disappointment.