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 Two

Round and round and a pinch of Bison horn. Potions was always the same and always just as boring. Harry didn't even try anymore. So what if he failed? It wasn't like he had any long-term goals in mind. He expected he'd just be miserable until someone killed him or he killed himself. What was the point of doing anything? He should just lock himself up in his room and lay there until he died. Ron and Hermione kept trying to make him feel better and he appreciated them. But they just didn't understand… Couldn't understand. Having constant memories of death and destruction and torture and rape and pointless killing. It was enough to make anyone want to give up.

He lazily stirred his potion, looking around the class for some sort of entertainment. His eyes fell on Malfoy. He was hunched over in his seat, thin blonde eyebrows furrowed, hair falling in his eyes. He was concentrating so hard a bead of sweat ran its way from his forehead to his chin and dropped beneath his crisp white shirt collar. Why was he focusing so hard on a stupid potions assignment? And why the fuck was green fumes coming from his cauldron which was supposed to have a clear potion in it?

Harry was now very curious and wanted to know exactly what Malfoy was brewing. It must have been something complex because Malfoy was usually very good in potions, and he seemed to be struggling with this one. Harry leaned forward in his chair and tried to inconspicuously glance in his cauldron. He tipped a little more. If only he could see what was in that bloody cauldron. Just a little more and he would know. Someone cleared their throat and Harry looked up to see Malfoy staring at him.

"What the fuck do you think you're doing Potter?"

He didn't know what to say so he shrugged and leaned back into his chair and stared at his own cauldron.

When was that bloody bell going to ring. His arm ached from not enough attention and this class was so boring.

3…2…1

Harry got his bag and headed towards the prefects bathroom. His glasses were all smudged from that stupid potion. He removed them to wipe them off and toppled into someone.

"Sorry…"

He mumbled, putting his glasses back on.

"Malfoy."

There stood the ice prince himself, clothes disheveled and books on the floor.

"Watch where you're going Potter."

Harry glared at him and pushed past him, slamming into his shoulder on purpose. He was suddenly grabbed by the arm and swung around, facing a fuming Malfoy.

"Goddamn it Potter I said watch-"

Was that it? That wasn't a complete sentence. Malfoy was ether very daft or he was staring at Harry's sleeve covered arm.

Shit

He suddenly felt Malfoy's thin fingers rubbing up and down through the fabric of his shirt.

He can feel them… He can feel the scabs.

Harry's eyes widened and he tried to yank his arm away. Malfoy looked him dead in the eye and yanked his sleeve up. There they were. On show for Malfoy, cuts littering his arm, some bleeding, some scabbed, and lots of scars. He just knew Malfoy would tell the whole world. Here comes the side show attraction…

"Harry Potter freak show! 3 galleons to see the freak that cuts himself!"

Malfoy was looking down at Harry's arm. He casually ran his fingers up one of the cuts, almost… Tenderly? Harry wasn't sure if he was hallucinating or not. Maybe he should eat something… He looked up into Malfoy's eyes. They were softer. Then a wide grin set in on his face. Harry yelped as claws scraped their way down his tender arm. He felt previously scabbed cuts open and blood was riveting down his arm. His eyes closed and his mind went white as pleasure soured through his body. He felt something soft and wet sliding up his arm and he looked down to find Malfoy running his tongue up his arm.

What. The. Fuck?

He raised his head up and licked his lips which were stained with Harry's blood. Harry had never seen anything creepier and hotter in his entire life. Which was odd because this is Malfoy. Draco Malfoy. Sworn enemy and bastard Mr. Draco Malfoy. And he looked hot with his hair draped into his eyes and his shirt wrinkled and askew and Harry's blood on his lips. He looked… Crazy and so hot and Harry was one sick fuck.

Draco glanced down to Harry's pants, which had become far too tight, grinned and left.

Like previously mentioned…

What the fuck…