Title: Like It Like That
Author: Yih
Disclaimer: All rights are JK Rowling, just borrowing the characters for some slashy goodness!
Warning: This is slash! M/M relationship! Don't bother flaming since this is your warning, got it?
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3: Life is Bittersweet (July 17, 2003)
Seeing his lover underneath the harsh lights of the latest nameless establishment in which they'd rented a ridiculously expensive room was illuminating. Harry looked in every possible meaning of the world like shit. He didn't know why it was so obviously today, though he had the nagging feeling he'd had this thought before.
Whenever he tried to dig in deeper and yank harder on the thought, his mind drew up an utter blank. It was like he was under some kind of spell, but he'd certainly remember if Harry had cast one on him or not. It wasn't like he was oblivious, quite the contrary when compared o the Gryffindor brat he was highly perceptive. As a Slytherin, he was proud of his keen awareness. No, no spell on him meant Harry had placed a spell on himself.
Why though? Well, first of all if this was how Harry looked when he shagged his brains out he had a good reason why. If it weren't for the same piercing green eyes and forever untidy dark mop of hair, he would have mistaken Harry for an Azkaban prisoner that'd been around Dementors for far too long. But still that didn't explain everything.
And he figured that there had to be a reason Harry looked like the walking dead. The question remained what was the best way to confront the sod. "Again the Gyffindor golden boy decides to charm me with his presence," Draco greeted with dripping sarcasm. "Looking less than peachy. Woke up on the wrong side of the bed, Potter?"
"Nothing's ever good enough for you, is it Malfoy?" Harry retorted, his eyes flashing with far more life than Draco thought was possible.
Draco shrugged his shoulders carelessly and reached into his robes for the mirror compact that he always kept on his person. Once he had the mirror, he tossed it over to Harry. "Take a good look at yourself, Potter. Even Knockturn Alley whores look better than you. You're definitely not up to Malfoy standards."
Even though Harry had had the vague notion when Draco had made the woke up on the wrong side of the bed comment that his glamour charm was fading, he hadn't known it was this bad. He'd made no attempt to actually study himself without some sort of glamour charm spelled on him. But as he looked into the mirror now, this was the basic physical emaciation he'd become minus one small charm he still felt working.
No wonder he hadn't felt quite so bad waking up this evening after his afternoon nap. His body had gone into a self protective mode and canceled out all the taxing magic that was continually weakening him. Damn it. He thought he had at least one more shag session to look forward with Draco, obviously it wasn't going to happen now. Not when he looked like this.
His once brilliantly lit emerald eyes were sunken into a once boyishly handsome face that was gaunt from his lack of desire to eat. If that wasn't bad enough, his body was even worse off. He'd thought that Draco would eventually notice that what his eyes were seeing and what his hands were touching didn't add up.
But the illusion spell he'd placed on himself re-enforced his glamour charm well enough that any doubts were erased soon after they were thought of. Harry really ought to thank the old coot of a Headmaster for the spell. It was one of the few useful things he had learned from the cunning and manipulative wizard. Too bad he was too weak now to even maintain the spell now. He was rather fond of it.
"Something's up with you," Draco remarked since all the raven hair young man was doing was staring at his reflection with detached indifference. "So why don't you tell me why you look like you've been to hell and back?"
"Didn't know that you cared about a foolish Gryffindor brat," Harry sneered with a silver edge of sarcasm. "If you let that get around, whatever will people think of Lucius' little dragon?"
Draco narrowed his eyes into silvery slits at the mention of his father. "I may not usually care about others, but like it or not Potter--- we've been together in some fashion for 6 months! I know you've been hiding something from me, you damn prat and I want to know what it is!"
"I don't see why you care," Harry responded coldly. "So what if we have been together for 6 months? As much as I hate to break it to you, Malfoy, we are not in any sort of relationship. We are only using each other to get off. There is no caring involve, and what makes you think you're the only one I'm shagging?" Harry asked cruelly. "I can recall several occasions where you've called me a slut, how would you like to know that you might be right?"
This was totally not like the Harry Potter that he knew. He didn't know whether to believe what he said or not. But regardless whether it was true or not, what Harry was snarling at him did in fact hurt. "You fucking slut," Draco hissed, leaping at Harry and slamming the other man into the wall. "No one plays a Malfoy, Potter. No one, not even you!"
His silver eyes were alit with a fierce possessiveness that Harry might have once appreciated but not anymore, not when life was so damn short. "Who did you fuck?" Draco queried heavily. "Who dared to fuck what's mine?"
It was all very well for Draco to call Harry a slut in a fit of furious passion, but it was quite another matter for Harry to in actuality be a slut. There were double standards for everything and being Draco's slut meant being only Draco's slut. He didn't care how easily Harry spread his legs as long as it was only for him. Malfoys didn't share.
"You don't own me, Malfoy, And despite what you may call me, I don't spread my legs for just anyone," Harry spat out. He wanted to say no one owned him, but that wasn't true. He didn't even own himself anymore. What better way to hit Draco with something that would shock him than the complete truth? He'd like to see the arrogant git entirely stunned for once even if the news was bound to make him shout out with joy. Besides, it'd be nice testing ground for when he told Ron and Hermione.
He'd known he'd have to tell them soon when he'd begun to take afternoon naps to conserve the little energy that he had. Now he had no choice but to tell them since he could no longer hide the truth any longer. It'd be a riot to see Draco's reaction, anyhow. Maybe the blond Slytherin would actually have the decency to be slightly upset. After all, they had been together for 6 months and it wasn't everyday you lost a damn fine shag buddy.
"No one that's alive owns me," Harry continued in a tone of enlightenment. "Death owns me."
Whatever Draco had been expecting, that was not it. For Merlin's sake, Harry Potter wasn't suppose to get morbid on him. He was suppose to be the resolute golden boy with a happy smile plastered onto his fact for his hero-worshipping crowd of admirers. Draco would have liked to dismiss all of this as a sick joke, but the evidence in front of him was hard to ignore.
One, Harry looked like death reincarnated. Two, Harry wasn't acting like Harry. Three, Harry was being morbid. No, Harry was serious and all this could only add up to one thing. Heaven forbid, it wasn't possible but all this could only mean… "You're suicidal? Why? You've got bloody everything!" And they called Slytherins ungrateful!
Harry laughed at Draco's preposterous, well no he actually had been slightly suicidal. Not if you called living life to the fullest instead of locking yourself up in a magical experiment jar suicidal. He was attached to living, even if it was slipping away. He certainly had no regrets to shagging his arch nemesis. None at all. The shagging had been far too pleasurable for regrets.
"I'm not suicidal," Harry stated firmly. "But I can't help it if a dark curse Voldemort placed on me before he was destroyed is killing me, can I?"
Draco was proud of himself for not dropping his jaw, but he really couldn't help his eyes widening at the shocking information. Harry was dying. No wonder he was paranoid. Harry was dying. His Harry was dying. That wasn't possible, not when he'd just found him. Damn sentimental Blaise for putting those thoughts into his head. "You can't be dying," Draco responded swiftly. "You can't."
"Oh, but I am," Harry replied in an empty tone of the defeated. "There's no can't. Can't you see how wasted I am? I wouldn't look like this if I wasn't dying. I'd thought you'd be pleased. You probably even helped it to go faster, you know. All that violent shagging." Harry knew he was being unfair and mean especially when Draco was looking anything but happy. But it was Malfoy and Malfoys weren't suppose to care. Draco couldn't care.
"I AM NOT PLEASED!" Draco roared, his eyes gleaming dangerous. "You may not care about me, but I damn well care about you." Fuck, he'd admitted it. Damn Blaise, damn him for making him think of Harry as more than a fuck toy. "I care about you, Harry, even if you think it's not possible, I do," he murmured softly, pulling Harry tenderly into his arms. "You are NOT dying on me."
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Author's Note: So can Harry be saved? Can I do the miraculous? [snickers] Stay tune and fine out. Nice cliffie eh?
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Thanks to Silvrei, SilverDragon, Tempest, Rings of Saturn, Jess, Coriel, abraxis, NayNymic, Malfoy Snogger, Eaiva le Fay, circiusofthedamned, and Quickjewel.
