Title: The Trick Is To Keep Breathing
Author: Miss T
Rating: R
Pairing: Harry/Draco
Genre: Romance/Future-fic/Horror
Notes: This story is based on one of my favourite adult-books of all time - Drawing Blood by Poppy Z Brite. The story is not exactly the same, just based around it, although some of it is very similar (lines, sort of plot, etc). I thought it was a good Harry/Draco plot, and I hope you all like it! Please please please take my recommendation of reading Drawing Blood... it really is good.
Notes 2: Right... OK. I tried to do a *dun dun dunnnn* Sex scene. I'm not used to writing these, so please forgive me if I got it horribly wrong! FEEDBACK on the subject would be fantastic! :)

The Trick Is To Keep Breathing
Chapter Three - Pieces

Before Harry went back inside the manor, he had another cigarette. Stubbing out the end on the bench and throwing it over his head, Harry cautiously made his way inside the house, remembering that he had left all his things back in the car. Swearing softly, Harry shrugged. I'm sure Malfoy Manor - one of the richest households in England has everything I need right inside, anyway, his mind told him as he made his way back into the hall where he first saw Draco earlier that evening.
After an involuntary shudder, Harry sighed and made his way up the left side of the stairwell, stopping slowly as a dim light in the hallway caught his eye. Frowning and letting curiosity get the better of him, Harry advanced on the open doorway where the light was coming from. Raising his eyebrows, Harry felt his breath catch in his throat and the palms of his hands suddenly begin to heat up as he watched Draco's pale form sleep atop the green covers of a bed, dressed in only his boxers. His pale blonde hair spread around his head like a holy nimbus, and he was incredibly still - painfully silent. Painfully... beautiful.
When Harry noticed that Draco's window was open, he found himself walking towards the sleeping boy, gently pulling a blanket over him from the foot of the bed. Harry gasped as Draco's sleeping body tensed at first under the contact, before a very faint smile appeared across his features as he actually... purred.
Stepping back from the bed, Harry ran a hand through his dark hair, familiarizing himself with the surroundings of Draco's bedroom. It was then that he noticed Draco's sketchbook lying on his desk next to a pot of quills and pencils. Running a shaky finger along the spine of the book, Harry picked it up and held his breath as he sifted through the pages, holding it under the light from the moon, admiring the beautiful sketched drawings - angels, the gardens, his mother, his dead mother...
Closing his eyes tight, Harry soundlessly snapped the book closed and placed it back onto Draco's desk, and made his way back out of the room. Harry then found himself back downstairs, inside the large family room. Three large brown leather sofas sat in immaculate condition in the room, a great fire place and coffee table, double windows showing off the most glorious views of the gardens, vases and tasteful interior decorations, all spread around the empty room.
Harry nearly jumped out of his skin when all of the lights suddenly turned on. Must be charmed... Although his voice of reason didn't convince him, again. Somehow he managed to creep back into Draco's bedroom, where the pale boy was in the deepest of slumbers. Harry noticed Draco's bag sitting in the far corner of the room where the light from the window spilled through - and Harry being as curious as a cat, found himself on his knees, silently examining it's contents. He was greeted with another sketchbook, Draco's wand, a small bag of galleons, a black jumper, toiletries - mundane items of everyday use... a small, worn piece of parchment...
Harry pulled the parchment out, nervously looking over to Draco, checking he was still asleep before gently unfolding the paper. It was an official document from the Ministry, stamped with the Malfoy family crest - the entire inheritance of the Malfoy fortune, all passed onto Draco. Harry widened his eyes as he held the letter under the moonlight, making sure that the figure he saw wasn't just a hallucination. Harry could have sworn he heard Draco stir, so he hastily folded up the parchment and shoved it back into Draco's bag before standing up.
Draco sat up straight and rubbed his eyes. "Potter?" he asked croakily.
Harry backed away from the bag, towards the door.
"What are you doing?" Draco asked, blinking owlishly.
"Sorry... curiosity got the best of me. I just came to see how you were." Harry explained quietly, thanking all his god's that it was dark inside the room so Draco couldn't see the sudden guilty flush of his cheeks.
"Oh." Draco replied sleepily. "Okay."
Harry frowned, suddenly at a loss for words.
"Potter?" Draco asked suddenly.
"Yes?" Harry asked.
"Could I have another cigarette?" Draco was now fully awake, tucking his legs underneath him. Harry raised his brow and fished out his almost empty packet of cigarettes from his pocket. "Of course..." He said, handing his lighter and a cigarette to Draco. "But I thought they made you cough?"
Draco lit the cigarette and took in a shaky drag. "They do, Potter... Father used to smoke tobacco... I thought that maybe..." Draco's voice faded away slightly and his eyes glassed over.
"Yes?" Harry pressed gently, taking a seat on the end of the mattress. Draco sniffed and took another drag before speaking again. "My father used to play piano, Potter. He was the one who taught me actually... Did you know I played? He taught me this piece he composed himself - Noxland. He said that if I ever felt scared, or didn't know who to talk to, I should fly away to Noxland. Anyway, he stopped after Volde... He Who Must Not Be Named died. He stopped teaching me, and instead he got drunk in his office and smoked pipes all day." There was definite bitterness laced with Draco's voice, and he took another drag from his cigarette before stubbing it out on his bedside table. "I thought if it killed him, it might kill me." He finished so quietly, he wasn't even sure Harry heard.
Harry looked down at his hands.
"Potter?"
Harry looked up again, a thick shard of black hair falling across his eyes. "Yes?" He asked quietly, not really knowing why.
"Why are you talking to me?"
Harry frowned. "Why not?"
Draco edged in closer to Harry and tilted his head. "I... I don't understand you, Potter. First I treat you like the dirt on my shoe - all throughout school. Tease you, tease your friends, hate you. Then when you come here to help me I try to bash your head in with a bottle. Why?"
Harry's frown deepened. "But you didn't try to bash my head in. You stopped - you didn't even realise it was me."
"Yeah, but..."
"Yeah but I should be running off in the distance because you probably would have done it anyway, considering out history?"
Draco laughed. "Something like that."
Harry smiled. "I knew you wouldn't have done it. History doesn't repeat itself. People... complications... tend to get in the way."
The corner of Draco's mouth turned up into a smile, and he nodded slowly. Harry yawned.
"Malfoy?"
"Yes?"
"Do you mind... do you mind if I lie down here?"
Draco's eyes shifted around nervously for a couple of seconds before he shrugged swiftly. Harry smiled and apprehensively stretched out on his back across the other side of the double bed, where Draco remained sitting cross-legged.
"Complications, indeed, Potter." Draco sighed finally.
"Maybe that's all life is... a series of complications. I always happen to be stuck in the middle of them." Harry replied.
"True. Your in them, I see them." Draco said quietly.
"You're in them too, Draco. You just handle them differently. I run away from them. You face them like a man." Harry laughed. Draco fiddled with the seam of the sheets for a couple of seconds, biting on his bottom lip. Did Harry just call him by his first name?
"I don't feel like a man, though. You're the Gryffindor, here. You're supposed to be the brave one." After a couple of seconds, Draco felt a lump lodge into his throat. "I'm scared shitless, Potter." He croaked into the silence.
"Me too." Harry whispered.
Draco gasped as something crept up his hand, warm and trembling, grasping onto his fingers gently. Draco nearly pulled away, he could feel all his instincts yelling at him, telling him that this was the touch of his worst enemy. But after a few seconds of mental argumentation, Draco curled his fingers around Harry's. He suddenly realised - Harry was his anchor.
Draco could feel the palm of his hand buzz against Harry's, the gentle sparks and flow of energy coming from the other boy, beating like a heart, filling him with... I don't know! All he knew is that he didn't want to let go. Not just yet, anyway. Harry's eyes shone in the darkness, filmed over with glassy tears. "What?" Draco heard himself whisper.
Harry squeezed his hand and then let go. He took in a shaky audible breath before speaking. "Could I... could we... I don't want to sleep on my own tonight." Harry murmured.
"Me neither." Draco replied. Harry shifted closer to the pale boy, and Draco found himself lying back on the mattress with him. Harry reached out and placed a hand on Draco's shoulder. Without breaking contact, Draco rolled over on his side and shifted backwards into Harry, so that Harry's arm snaked around his shoulders, and his chest pressed lightly against his back. Draco could hear Harry's shallow breaths behind him, feel them kiss the back of his neck in warm wisps. He tensed slightly when Harry pressed his face into the back of Draco's neck, but relaxed after a few seconds. "Are you supposed to be here?" Draco asked, his voice quieter than a whisper. "Is this part of what is supposed to happen?"
"Fuck supposed to." said Harry. "You make it up as you go along."

~~~|~~~

Harry woke up to find his face buried deep within the back of Draco's neck, the fine moonbeam spun hair clinging lightly to his face, the faint smell of fresh sweat and cigarette's weaved it's way into his nostrils. At some point during the night, Harry had managed to get rid of his trousers and shirt, and he was wearing nothing but his boxers, too. Draco was still fast asleep, the steady rise and fall of his bare chest pressing against the palms of Harry's hands, the gentle beating of his heart drumming out an endless rhythm to sadness.
Harry felt Draco stir underneath him, stretch and yawn like a cat, rolling over to face Harry sleepily. His grey eyes blinked sleepily, shining in the daylight, almost as translucent as his skin. Harry suddenly realised that he liked being in bed with Draco. The thought unnerved him slightly, but the sight of this unearthly looking creature grinning sleepily back at up at him suddenly made Harry's heart pound deep within his chest.
Without a word, Draco stood up and stretched, his arms going out to his sides like an image of Christ. Harry shuddered.
"Morning." Draco said groggily, before turning on his heel and walking out of the room. Harry frowned and wriggled his way out of the bed and followed the pale boy ahead. Draco proceeded to walk down the stairs, so Harry followed his way, again, letting his curiosity get the better of him.
As the pair reached the bottom of the stairs, Harry frowned and stopped just outside of the door leading through to the piano room. "Malfoy... stop." Harry said quietly, looking down at a small white gleaming shard of... something. Reaching down to get it, Harry picked the object up and held it to the light. It was the most brilliant white, shattered at the end and looking like a flat finger, lost from an expensive statue or something.
"What is this?" Harry asked quietly, looking up at Draco.
Draco's body had suddenly tensed up, his nostrils began to flare as he clamped his lips shut. He pushed past Harry, almost knocking the dark haired boy over as he slammed through the door that entered into the piano room.
Harry cautiously followed the other young man, stepping across the threshold into the other room. Draco lay on his knees on the floor, his fists clenching at his sides with a look of utter disbelief in his eyes. Harry gasped. The piano, the one that once gleamed elegantly in the moonlight filled room, the grand piano that looked centuries old but managed to stay spectacular... was in pieces. It looked like someone had come in and smashed the entire thing up with a hammer, leaving it to crumble on the floor.
Harry rapidly dropped the broken key to the floor, and turned to face Draco. "Did you... were you..."
"I was in bed with you all night, Potter!" Draco snarled, answering Harry's question. "I could just as well ask you the very same thing!"
"Malfoy! I didn't... I couldn't have!" Harry stammered, shaking his head.
"I know." Draco whispered, looking away from Harry and back at the destroyed instrument.
"What are you going to do?" Harry asked.
"Nothing." Draco replied quietly.
"What?!" Harry's voice asked shrilly. "Aren't you annoyed?"
Draco tore his gaze away from the piano to look back up at Harry. "Well you obviously are, Potter."
"Why aren't you? It... whatever it is... destroyed your most prized possession and left it here for you to find in bits! How can you not be annoyed?" Harry spluttered.
Draco sighed. "It." He laughed humourlessly. "It... I think 'It' might be my family."
Harry nodded. "I think you're right, Draco. And you know what I would do if I were you? I wouldn't give a fuck and get the hell out of here. If it's going to do this to the things you love, just imagine what it is going to do to you?!"
Draco stood up and narrowed his eyes. "I don't care." He said, his voice dangerously low. "My father gave that piano to me. What if my father wants it back? What if Noxland wants it back?!"
Harry exhaled impatiently and grabbed Draco's face with his hands, digging his fingers into Draco's temples. "This... this Noxland. And this." He nodded towards the destroyed piano. He gently took his hands away from Draco's face and clasped onto the pale boy's hands. "If you came back here to find something, at least admit what it is. Don't think that this is a place for your music, because it isn't. This place will kill you, Draco."
Draco felt his top lip quiver. "Maybe I want it to." He replied quietly.
"Why?" Harry asked.
Draco stepped back and threw Harry's hands off his. "Leave it, Potter. Just leave it."
"Why?! Because dear old Daddy did?! Is that why you think it's so fucking romantic? If you do-"
"Shut the fuck up, Potter! I didn't ask for any of your-"
"-maybe you ought to think that Lucius just lost his FUCKING PRIDE!"
Draco snarled, and before he knew what he was doing, he felt his fist connect with Harry's jaw. Harry stumbled backwards and fell on his backside hard, clutching his mouth. Blood poured from between his fingers, and his eyes took on that deer-in-headlights shine again. Harry was scared. And the strange thing was, Draco was enjoying it.
Draco grabbed a hold of Harry's wrist and yanked it away from the boy's bleeding mouth, lifting his other fist in the air, ready to strike again. Harry's eyes widened and he sunk back onto the floor, a faint whimpering emitting from his lips. That is what it looks like to be the victim. Draco thought. That is what it looks like to be on the other side.
Draco stopped.
If Father couldn't stand to live without his pride, fine. Just fine. But he didn't have to take anyone down with him. I didn't have to spend my life alone. Mother would have looked after me. Is saying he lost his pride wrong?
Draco shoved Harry's wrist away and stumbled backwards, landing on the marbled floor next to his broken piano. Half of himself hoped that Harry would hit him back, the other half screaming for Harry to stay away from him. Because the feeling of having Harry under his mercy... the feeling of Harry's slick warm blood running between his fingers felt so fucking good...

~~~|~~~

Harry clamped his eyes shut and cowered backwards, hoping that the floor would swallow him up. He never in a million years would have guessed that Draco had such a strength - it was frightening. Hell, it was fucking terrifying.
Ever since the final battle with Voldemort, and everything else inbetween, Harry had developed a gradual fear of physical violence. He had seen people suffer under the hand of the Dark Lord himself, seen them tortured and torn apart... their souls laid bare as their guts.
When the second punch didn't come, Harry opened one of his eyes cautiously before letting the other do the same, to find Draco curled in a tight ball on the other side of the floor.
Snorting in a gob of blood, Harry felt tears stream down his face, mingling with the blood from his lips and nose, dripping onto the floor beneath him. Rubbing his fingers together, Harry could feel the slick warm blood that had first bloomed open when Draco punched him. It felt sticky and thick now compared to the fresh blood that was running down his face. Draco was still lying on the floor, back facing away from Harry.
Why do I even risk it? The second someone gets close to a Malfoy, they attack.
But wasn't Harry the one who had always faced danger? Always the one who was supposed to laugh in it's face? Harry suddenly realised why he was nearly sorted into Slytherin. He was a fucking coward. Righteous and noble, maybe. But at this moment in time - Harry was terrified. Draco, Harry thought, was definitely the brave one here. He was facing his innermost fears here - facing his demons. And Harry was scared - the demons weren't even his own to be afraid of in the first place.
"You can leave now, Potter." Draco said, his voice muffled, thick with tears.
"I don't want to." Harry said quietly. "Draco?"
Draco sniffed and lifted his head up. "What?" His face was reddened with tears, deep streaks of scarlet marring his flawless features.
"Let's go back to bed."
Draco frowned and sniffed again, and shook his head slightly. He scanned Harry's expression, covered in blood, but trusting. Harry trusted Draco. Something made him crawl across the floor over to Harry, and grasp onto the other boy's hand. Harry used that grip to pull Draco in towards him in a tight embrace, and all of a sudden - they both let go. Sobbing into each other's hair and necks, Harry and Draco clasped onto one another strongly. After a few minutes, the sobs died down, and the embrace became more gentle. Without stopping to think what he was doing, Draco leaned forward and licked at the blood on Harry's chin, just below his lip. Just a quick flash of pink tongue, gone in a second.
Harry's eyes widened as Draco leaned back, his grey pools searching Harry's emerald ones. He suddenly forgot how to breathe. After a few more seconds of glaring into one another's eyes, their lips suddenly met together softly - barely even touching.
Draco could taste Harry's blood between his lips, the fresh blood from his own damage running down into his own mouth. He then felt Harry sigh, his lips pressing slightly firmer onto Draco's. Draco whimpered lightly, opening his mouth to allow their tongues to meet, gently stroking and exploring each other's mouths, minds lost in the moment that seemed to last a lifetime.
Draco suddenly let Harry go gently to gasp for much needed oxygen. He eyed the other boy questioningly. "What are you doing?" He breathed.
"I'm sorry..." Harry stammered, his heart hammering in his chest.
"I'm not." Draco whispered, looking up at Harry through his fallen fringe of silvery hair.
Harry smiled nervously and brought his hands up to brush Draco's hair back, keeping them on the sides of the pale boy's face. He then leaned into kiss Draco again, more surer this time, letting the kiss start deeply, moaning lightly into the other boy's mouth. Draco responded by grasping onto Harry's shoulders, kneading the skin with his fingers.
Harry gasped and sucked onto Draco's bottom lip as he lifted them both onto their feet, dragging he and Draco out through the open patio doors. Draco gripped onto Harry's backside as he flicked his tongue through Harry's lips, searching his ex-enemy out, as if all of this dark haired boy's answers were buried deep within the velvety warmth of his mouth.
Harry let go of Draco's mouth and placed his hands over the blonde boy's crotch, feeling his excitement through the thin silky boxers that Draco wore. "Draco... have you ever...?" Harry asked breathily. Draco shook his head.
"Me neither." Harry replied. Hesitating only for a moment, Harry grasped his hands underneath Draco's thighs, lifting him up of the ground and shoving him none-too-harshly onto the stone bench. Draco moaned as Harry leaned over him, their erections pressing together firmly. Draco reached up and captured Harry's mouth with his again, sucking softly and slowly at his tongue, grasping onto the hair on the back of Harry's head. Harry began to rub himself up and down on Draco, causing friction in all the right places.
"Ah... fuck..." Harry whimpered, moving his hips faster over Draco's. Draco moaned and hastily gripped onto Harry's sides, pushing him up and down with such force that he began to see stars. "... oh, god..." Draco murmured into Harry's neck. They continued to move, pant and moan, and whimper and curse and swear and come and come... "...fuuuuck..." Harry gasped, collapsing on top of Draco. Draco muttered something unintelligible and closed his eyes, before shuddering into orgasm. After a while, Harry rolled onto his side on the bench and clasped Draco into a spooning position, much like the one they slept in the previous night.
"I'm sorry I punched you." Draco said after a while.
Harry sighed against Draco's neck. "It got us this far. If this isn't making up after five years of teenage boy rivalry, I don't know what is." He laughed gently, the waves of his chuckles vibrating onto the back of Draco's neck, running straight into his heart. Just then, a light shower began to fall from the sky. "I guess that's God's way of telling us to clean ourselves up." Draco muttered, sitting up and grabbing hold of Harry's hand.

Two hot showers and changes later, the boys had found themselves curled back on Draco's mattress, clinging onto each other in a gentle slumber that would take them into the afternoon.

~~~|~~~

to be continued...