Disclaimer: No, so don't ask.

A/N: Thank you again for the huge response to the last chapter. You know I wouldn't make you wait too long…so here is the next one. Be warned…lots o' angst and the like below. All in all, I think this is one of my personal favorites…but that could be because I'm a twisted fuck. (j/k) We still have a few to go…so be patient…and *trust me*. Please review.

Thanks to Liz and Jasmine for being my two *favorite* chicas and for reading my story. *Massive kisses*

Chapter 11………..Please. (Yeah, you know that chapter title is all for you, Jasmine. *wink*)

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Harry, after what felt like hours of running, finally found Draco's apartment. Skidding to a halt outside the door, he raised his hand to knock, but stilled it when he heard music coming from the other side. The piano. Harry knew Draco could play, but he had not, to Harry's knowledge, done so since he left home. The song was beautiful and strong, but undeniably sad. He sighed with a bit of relief…at least he knew Draco was inside and in one piece. His thoughts wandered momentarily. How would Draco react? The truth was, Harry had no clue what to expect. A part of him worried that Draco would lash out at him, resentful; as Harry's coaxing had been a major factor in his decision to leave home. His logical side, of course, dismissed this notion; yet still he worried. He knocked and, as he had expected, received no answer. He knocked harder…again no answer…and the music continued.

'Damn…I'll have to apparate in…'

Harry reached for his wand and with a pop he found himself standing in what was left of Draco's home. The sudden influx of magical energy made him reel for a moment, but left him otherwise unharmed. He took a quick glance around and noted that the place would have looked much like Draco himself – beautiful and cold. He noted a discarded Christmas tree leaning against the wall and shards of broken glass littering the floor. To his left he saw the sculpture Michael must've been referring to, busted to pieces by a large hole in the wall. Harry presumed both occurred by the sculpture being hurled at the once pristine wall. He moved his gaze to the piano…and to Draco.

He was bent over the keys, pounding into them as though his fingers would break. Sweat dripped from his brow and his eyes were shut tightly – his expression fierce. It was almost as if he wanted to create a new world for himself through the notes – like his fingertips could rewrite history in a wave of anguish and ivory. Harry tentatively approached him and reached out a shaky hand to place on his shoulder. The action seemed not to faze him. Calmly, he called his name.

"Draco…"

"..."

He tried again. "Draco…"

"…"

Harry took a deep breath and relocated his hand to lie gently atop Draco's, stilling its movement. He found no need for greetings or explanations as he enveloped the other boy into his arms. As he had expected, Draco did not return the embrace, but rather, hung limply in his arms. Harry brought a hand up to caress the platinum hair and cooed into the distraught boy's ear.

"It's okay…"

Draco exploded, wrenching away from him and slamming a fist onto the piano keys. The dissonance echoed through the still room. "*Nothing* is okay…"

He leapt up from his seat on the bench and crossed to his bar. Harry followed and watched him rummage angrily through bottles until he seemed satisfied with a choice. If Draco was this upset now, Harry hated to think of him after he'd been drinking.

"I don't think you should drink just now, Draco."

Draco scoffed and continued to pour his drink.

"Really…come on, we'll go sit down…just…leave that here, okay?"

If Draco heard him, he didn't respond, but continued with his task. When his hand slipped and he managed to spill a good bit of liquor onto the surface of the bar, he let out a growl and hurled the bottle across the room. Luckily, the glass didn't break. Luck, like many things though, was short lived this night. Because when Harry looked back to Draco, he saw his face contort as he swept his hand across the counter top, sending everything crashing to the floor. Harry winced at the sound of so much broken glass. Draco slid to the floor, seemingly unfazed by the shards that had to have been digging into his skin. When he raised the glass to his lips, Harry intervened and snatched it away before setting it back onto the top of the bar. Draco looked up at him with contempt that slowly melded into an aggrieved sadness. Before he could say anything, Harry bent down and lifted him to his feet.

"Come on…let's go into the living room."

Draco sniffled and nodded, allowing Harry to lead him.

When the pair reached the couch, Harry sat Draco down and took his hand, noting a gash from the broken glass. Draco seemed impassive to the pain, if there was any. Harry tried, vainly, to wipe away the blood.

"Damn it Draco! You should be more careful! Where's your bathroom so I can clean this up?"

Draco nodded in the direction of the bathroom and slumped back when Harry got up from his seat. After a few moments, he returned with a washcloth and some gauze. He gingerly took Draco's wounded hand and checked for any remaining shards of glass that might be imbedded in the skin. When none were found, he cleaned the gash and wrapped it up, silently. Out of nowhere, Draco began to speak, albeit very softly.

"I never got to tell him I was sorry. He…he had to have hated me…"

Harry hugged him again. He held him there a long moment, cooing to him and running his and over his back, comfortingly. Suddenly Draco pulled away and wiped tears from his eyes. He stood and headed back towards the kitchen. Frowning, Harry called after him.

"Draco what…"

"Don't worry…I just need some water…"

Although Harry believed him, he didn't want to take any chances; he followed behind him into the kitchen. As Draco poured himself a glass of water, Harry remembered the parchment in his pocket. It was the letter Lucius had sent him after Draco had moved out. He pulled out the note and held it out to Draco.

"Here…I…well, I thought you should see this. It came shortly after you left the flat…"

Draco took the offered paper, curious. He let his eyes scan the words and Harry watched his face go through a torrent of emotions. First curiosity, then disbelief that gave way to…almost…hope, before realization and finally…grief.

"I wanted to give it to you earlier…but I didn't want…I thought you might get hurt…"

He watched as Draco crumpled the note in his hand and cast it aside. Before he could ask any questions, the paper burst into flames and settled into a pile of ash on the floor. A split second later, Draco sank down as well with a heartrending cry. When the light bulb above their heads exploded, Harry instinctively ducked and covered his head from the glass and sparks that left the two of them in relative darkness. He knew something had to be done. He himself had only lost control over his magic once, and that had been when Voldemort had mocked his parents just before he killed him. He threw himself down beside the hysterical Slytherin and grabbed him by the shoulders, shaking him lightly.

"Draco! Draco, listen to me! You have got to keep control okay? Listen to my voice…I'm here, I'm going to take care of you…just calm down."

Slowly, and after much coaxing, Harry was confident that there would be no more exploding glass. Still, Draco's condition hadn't improved much. At a loss, Harry sat back and opened his arms.

"Come here."

Draco obeyed and crawled over to him. He let himself relax completely and went limp in Harry's arms. However, before long, his fingers gripped to his former lover tightly as he sobbed into the crook of Harry's neck.

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Michael sighed as he entered his flat. He was drained…physically, emotionally, mentally. He wondered how Draco was holding up. Sliding down to the floor, he sat there, thinking for a long, long time. He wanted desperately to run back…to take care of the grief-stricken blonde himself. But he knew better. It wasn't his place…it wasn't his name he heard Draco cry softly from the other side of the door. That had been the moment he knew he had lost. He did not love Draco…and yet…all of this was new to him. Having never been one for melodrama, his usual reaction would have been to quietly exit such a scene and be on his merry way. Instead, he had found himself wanting to stay, to help and make everything okay. So he helped the only way he could…he went to Harry Potter.

'How ironic…' he thought. 'The first time I *want* to help…I can't…'

At some point he had gotten up from the floor and moved to the couch…though he couldn't remember when. He vaguely noticed that he was weeping softly. Weeping for Draco – the boy's sorrow still fresh in his mind. Somewhere…deep down…he wept for himself too…although he'd never know it. Tears seemed to be the only language the pureblood couldn't understand with natural affluence.

"Merry Christmas to me…" he said somewhat dejectedly.

It was then that he heard his door open. Startled, he jerked his head to the intrusion.

"What are you doing here?" He asked, a little confused.

He received a smile from a familiar face. "I used to live here not so long ago. I didn't want you to be alone on Christmas…"

Michael forced a smile for Andrew…his partner for more than a year. To be honest, he wasn't really in the mood for company, but the gesture was heartfelt and so he welcomed it accordingly. He didn't need to explain to this man who was so similar to him in many ways. He didn't need to apologize or sprout delusive words of a feigned reconciliation. He just needed to nod, take a deep breath and accept that, for tonight at least, he didn't have to be alone.

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Harry didn't know how long he held him there, but the sobs lessened in intensity and he leaned his head back to rest against the wall, taking Draco with him. Suddenly, his eyes opened wide in shock. Of all the things he expected…a tongue lapping at his neck was not one of them. Fighting the urge to throw his head back and relent, Harry forced his brain to work.

"D…Draco…I don't think…"

Taking another lick at Harry's neck and tasting the salt of his own tears, Draco's fingers walked their way up to Harry's collar. He brought his lips up to Harry's ear and pleaded.

"…please…"

"But I don't…"

Draco placed his finger over Harry's lips and drew back to face him. Harry cursed the moon for letting in enough light to allow him to see the need on the usually unaffected face. The look did not suit Draco, but left him flawless and beautiful nonetheless. Harry felt his resolve crumbling. He didn't question Draco's motives, as he knew from first hand experience that Draco dealt with things in his own strange way. It was almost if he needed both to be reassured, loved, touched and to forget, to place his mind as far away as possible. Harry wasn't so sure this was the best way to handle the current situation though. He was snapped from his thoughts by a wandering hand on the inside of his thigh. When he reached his own hand down to move it, Draco took both of their hands, linked together, and guided them to his own body. He wrapped them around his waist and shifted his position to straddle across Harry's lap. Leaning in, he pressed his perfect face closer and placed kisses all over Harry's cheeks and across his nose. Harry tasted the saline drips of Draco's tears as they ran down his own face and a few slipped into the crease of his mouth. When Draco reached Harry's lips, he ran his hands through his hair and whispered against his moist skin.

"…please…"

Harry at last decided he hadn't another ounce of tenacity in him and he relaxed. Pulling Draco's arms tighter around him, he replied finally.

"Not here."

He whispered a minor levitation spell and stood, keeping Draco wrapped about his waist. When he'd exited the kitchen, he asked Draco to point out the bedroom and Draco complied, pointing to an open doorway. Harry's eyes had already adjusted to the darkness and he had no trouble getting the two of them into the room smoothly. Once inside, he laid Draco down, and even in the shadows his breath caught at the sight of his pale hair and skin contrasting off of the black of the sheets. He leaned down over him and claimed his lips while he let his fingers roam and begin their task of removing their clothes, skimming over pale flesh as he went. With his skin exposed, Harry shivered. The gauze from Draco's bandaged hand scraped lightly over him and made him that much more aware of the warm body underneath him. Harry let his eyes rest briefly on the growing pile on the floor; the symbolism apparent. They were abandoning so much more than fabric.

When the last piece of cloth was divested, Harry laid down flush against Draco, both of them gasping softly at the contact. What happened next, neither could explain, but both would remember as one of the most remarkable moments of their lives.

Harry reached out to run his hand along Draco's arm, and Draco gasped…before Harry ever touched him. The space between them seemed to glow faintly. Closer to Draco the light kept a blue hue, while next to Harry it remained red and the area between them flushed purple. The light was subtle…almost imperceptible. They shared a look of mutual surprise before Draco experimentally ran his hand down Harry's back, hovering just above the skin. Harry threw his head back and groaned, having never felt something so intense.

Later, he would come to the conclusion that the heightened emotions of the evening combined with the volatile magic of two very powerful wizards had caused some sort of reaction. At the time, however, neither of them had the wit, nor the desire to contemplate the science of the matter.

 He immediately kissed Draco deeply, overwhelmed with sensation. Draco returned the kiss as though his very life depended on it…maybe it had. Slicing through the dark, the moonlight cast a soft glow across Draco's face. His platinum hair was sprawled across the pillow and his steel eyes pierced into Harry's own. His pale cheeks were still wet with tears that left their tracks in soft pink streaks down his otherwise flawless complexion.

"Beautiful" Harry whispered and ran his hand just above a pale cheek.

Draco gasped and bit his lip, instinctively lifting his hips upwards. This caused Harry to bury his head into Draco's neck for a moment, catching his breath. After he had calmed, a blonde head lifted, catching Harry's mouth in another kiss as Harry ran his hands along both of the pale arms until he reached the long fingers that always knew exactly how to torture him. He intertwined Draco's hands with his own and both men sighed softly at the feeling of utter completeness – no questions, no rules, no titles...no tomorrows.

Running a calloused hand along the fair, lissome torso, Harry kissed Draco's shoulder before rising up. His hand journeyed downward to Draco's hip and along the outside of his thigh before he lifted gently at the knee and raised it to rest on his shoulder. Turning his head, Harry could smell Draco's skin. It was an intoxicating and faint blend of amber mixed with something Harry couldn't define. Nostalgia told him he knew it long before he had ever known the smell or taste of another man; but even so, the scent now belonged solely to Draco. Running his nose along the skin one more time to bond it to his memories, he placed a tiny kiss to Draco's ankle.

Draco surrendered completely, and when Harry took him he continued to cry softly. It was a bit of a role reversal from their last time, but Harry had played both top and bottom before and he knew that tonight, Draco needed to be taken, loved…possessed.

Afterwards, Harry curled Draco to him and held him there, whispering softly until he fell asleep. When he was confident that the Slytherin would not wake suddenly, he slipped his pants on and returned to the rest of the flat. He surveyed the damage and shook his head. He could only imagine the pain Draco had to be in. Even through all of their hardships, the pureblood had remained fiercely devoted to his father, and desperately wanted his approval. Somewhere, Draco thought that someday everything would be okay…and now…he knew better.

With a sigh Harry took out his wand and began repairing the damage around him. When he finished he set up the Christmas tree and replaced the light bulb in the kitchen. He turned out the lights and padded back into the bedroom where he slipped off his pants and curled against Draco once more. When they were snugly together, Harry placed a soft kiss to the shoulder tucked under his chin and hoped his presence would be enough to chase away any demons that would invade his lover's sleep.

"Merry Christmas, Draco."

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TBC

Alright pretties, don't get your knickers in a twist…it ain't over yet. (I *cannot* believe I just said ain't)

There's more to come…you didn't think I'd make it this easy on you, did you? Come on…*points up to sleeping Draco* he's got some shit to deal with first.

Next chapter soon, I promise.

Please Review.

Love and Kisses,

Reika