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: a special thank you to all my reviewers so far. I'm so pleased you
all like my story *grins*. Without the feedback I wouldn't feel the need to
continue! *dramatic pose* :D xxx
The Trick Is To Keep Breathing
Chapter Four - In The Shadows
Draco frowned as a faint growling sound came from Harry's
stomach, echoing throughout the quiet bedroom. It was round about 2 o'clock, and
the boys had been awake for about half an hour.
"Are you hungry, Potter?" he said, lifting his head up from Harry's lap. Harry raised his
neck and looked down at Draco, smiling slightly. "A bit."
Draco sat up. "We could go into the the village if you like. You know, for
something to eat. There's nothing in here... unless you fancy a nice wholesome
meal of dirt and dust."
Harry laughed and sat up too. "I'd like to go out. That is.. if you want to."
Draco nodded. "I think we should."
Half an hour later, Draco and Harry were strolling side by side
down the small wizarding village. Harry noted that during the day this place
wasn't so dissimilar to a smaller version of Hogsmeade - comparable shops and
buildings, bars and cafes. Draco suddenly stopped outside a small coffee shop
and gazed up at the sign. "I used to go here all the time. They do the best
cakes ever. And the coffee is good, too." He said distantly.
"I can't drink coffee. But I'm sure a cup of tea wouldn't go a miss..." Harry
said, nodding towards the entrance. "You want to?"
Draco nodded and entered through the small doorway. A large glass cabinet filled
the entire left side of the wall filled with sweets and cakes, an elderly wizard
dozing lazily next to the counter next to it. On the other side of the room, 4
or 5 tables lay scattered across the floor. Two were occupied with witches and
wizards politely conversing within each other and drinking coffee. The smell was
enough to make Harry's heart beat that little bit faster.
Draco walked over to the counter and prodded the wizard with his index finger.
"Err... sir? Excuse me?"
The wizard made a most unbecoming snort before snapping back to reality, causing
Draco to wrinkle up his nose. "Hello, chaps. What can I do you for?" The wizard
suddenly blurted, as if someone had turned on a switch behind him. Draco turned
to Harry and exchanged an amused look before facing the wizard again. "I'll have
a black coffee and... mmm..." Draco frowned and looked over to the glass
cabinet. Harry sighed and folded his arms over. Draco Malfoy. Even after all
the shit that's happened, he's still an indecisive git.
"... okay. I'll have a triple chocolate, chocolate chipped muffin and
chocolate sauce." He said with a smile. Harry rolled his eyes.
"I'll just have a tea and a scone thanks." Harry said tiredly to the man.
"You're so boring, Harry." Draco sighed as they walked over to a table with
their things. Harry smiled toothily. Draco frowned through a mouthful of food.
"What?!" He asked indignantly, his voice muffled.
"You called me Harry." Harry said.
Draco swallowed and took a sip of coffee. "Well, that's your name isn't it?"
Harry shook his head smiling and continued to drink his tea.
Later that day, after more mulling around the village, Harry and
Draco went back to the mansion, deciding that sleep sounded like a good idea
even if it was only six o'clock.
A couple of hours after they had fallen asleep in Draco's bed, Harry woke up
with a painful cramp in his bladder. Groaning silently, Harry gently pried
himself off Draco's sleeping body and clumsily walked into the hall. The only
light provided for his desperate search to relieve himself was that of the tall
windows in the hallway. Squinting in the darkness, Harry lazily stumbled naked
through the hall, looking through all of the doorways before he found a
bathroom.
When he finally found one, Harry sighed in satisfaction as he let himself go,
using his free hand to scratch sluggishly at his hair. Licking his lips, Harry
suddenly sobered and realised that he had left Draco alone in his bedroom...
sleeping - dreaming of Noxland and his Father, none the less...
Harry was very much awake now, and he felt his breath quicken in mild panic.
Okay, okay - it's alright, Harry. Just finish your... err... business, and step
calmly out of the room...
One thing Harry knew for sure is that he hadn't shut the door behind him
when he came in.
Feeling his breath quicken a further notch, Harry chewed on his bottom lip and
let his gaze drop to the door handle. After a few seconds of intense glaring,
Harry lunged at the door. The doorknob wouldn't budge, it just slipped through
Harry's sweaty fingers. Wiping his hands on his bare thighs, Harry rattled the
doorknob again - but still no use.
Swallowing harshly, Harry tried to heave the door open with all his might, yet
still nothing gave - the door was jammed shut. Suddenly, as if the doorknob was
made out of roasting flames, Harry let go of it and gripped hold of the hair on
his head, pulling at it and panicking as he peered around the darkened room. The
expensive bath tiles gleamed in the darkness, the furniture glowing as if brand
new. But despite the grandeur of the room, there was just something so wrong
about it that made all of Harry's hairs stand on end.
Averting his eyes from the bathtub, Harry found himself staring into the mirror,
seeing his sweaty, glasses-bare reflection panic before him. Without the help of
his glasses, Harry wasn't really sure if he saw it or not, but he could have
sworn the glass just... rippled.
Harry frowned and leaned in towards the mirror to get a better glimpse at
the surface, until his forehead pressed against the cool glass, his bare stomach
digging into the sink below him. Every sane voice in his mind was yelling at him
to stand back, to get away from the mirror, but something else was drawing him
towards it, something Harry listened to. One of the taps from the sink turned
on.
Jumping backwards with a strangled yell, Harry gagged as hot dark liquid
splashed up from the tap onto his chest, arms and belly, running down thickly
over his moonlight kissed skin. He was covered in dark, decayed blood that was
bubbling out of the tap, streaking into the sink and smelling like death twenty
times over. Harry let out a muffled sob as he held the back of his hand to his
mouth, the heat and smell from the liquid making his eyes water. As he continued
to glare at the sink, the other faucet began to twist slowly, and a second
liquid began to pour into the putrefying blood - a thin gelatinous fluid that
shone white in the darkness. Harry's eyes widened as he suddenly realised what
it was as it mingled with the blood, swirling in a fluid circle. The white fluid
was semen.
Harry felt the burning sensation of vomit on the back of his tongue, threatening
to spill as he tore his eyes away from the sink and back up to the mirror.
Letting out another strangled yell, Harry backed away as his reflection stared
blankly back at him - the flesh no longer that golden glow he was so used to,
but stark white and paper thin, stretched over his bones like parchment. His
eyes were dark and unreflecting, deep shadows beneath them absorbing the
darkness of the room. Harry didn't look like the eighteen, almost nineteen year
old boy that he was - Harry looked dead.
He made a noise in the back of his throat that sounded somewhere between a
whimper and a gasp, reaching out a shaking hand to touch the glass of the
mirror. As he did this, bruises started to appear on his white flesh, blooming
over his skin like ink blotches, some purple - some green, some even bubbling
with red blood. Harry whimpered in the darkness, his stomach threatening to
spill out of his mouth. Harry had never really thought of himself as a good
looking bloke, he had always just been thankful that he had been alive more than
anything else - not really taking notice that he actually was a handsome
boy. Now, watching his face rot away before his very eyes Harry felt his stomach
leap, felt the world torn lopsided and in half and the hot sting of tears
threatening to spill from his eyes. He watched as his face began to get more and
more bruised, and now even white dots began to appear across his skeletal-like
features.
Harry felt an abrupt, burning flare of fury. What the hell was this house trying
to prove? How fucking ridiculous could the next special effects show get?
With a piercing yell, Harry grabbed hold of the edges of the mirror and flung it
over his head and into the bathtub. The faucets from the sink stopped abruptly
as the glass smashed against the porcelain, echoing off the walls and ringing
deep within Harry's ears. With shaky hands, Harry began to run his fingers over
his face, feeling that familiar eighteen year old skin grace his touch. Looking
down at his naked body, Harry saw no bruises or blood - not even the blood that
had splashed him from the tap.
Harry felt his knees buckle underneath him as he held onto the edge of the sink
for support, feeling sticky sweat run down his forehead and neck. As he glared
into the bathtub, he could have sworn he had seen movement in the gleaming
shards of glass - some kind of swinging movement... something made him stare at
it, knowing that if he looked away something bad was going to happen.
Behind him the door creaked open. Harry gasped and spun around, his muscles all
on full alert. Draco was framed in the doorway, eyes sleepy and hair messy.
"What are you doing?" He mumbled.
"How did you get in?" Harry wheezed. His mouth was dry and sore from yelling.
Draco frowned. "I turned the door handle. Why did you shut yourself in here?"
Harry backed away from the sink and pointed at it.
Draco's frown deepened as he looked away from Harry and to the sink. "What?"
Harry looked inside the sink - it was empty and clean again, gleaming in the
moonlight. Draco tilted his head and noticed that the mirror was gone, turning
around and raising his eyebrows as he saw it in pieces in the bathtub. "Did
you..." He said distantly, before his eyes glazed over. Wrapping his elegant
fingers around Harry's wrist, Draco yanked hard, tearing his eyes away from the
shadows beginning to twist on the wall. "Get out."
As they fell into the hall, Draco slammed the bathroom door shut behind them,
dragging Harry violently down the hall and the stairwell, and into the large
family room.
"Draco? Don't... hey... what?..."
"Shut up."
Draco tugged Harry down onto a leather sofa before muttering 'Lumos' under his
breath, sitting down on the couch across from him and sinking his face into his
hands as light began to flood into the room. Harry saw that Draco's body was
shaking, and he stood up to reach out for the other boy's shoulder. Draco
recoiled and slapped Harry's hand away. "Don't touch me, Potter!"
Harry stumbled backwards, away from Draco. "Fine! You don't want me here?
Your ghosts don't want me here? Fine, that's just fine, Malfoy!" Harry
yelled, glancing around the room. He suddenly realised that all of his things,
including his clothes were still upstairs. So much for grand exits.
Draco sighed into his hands. "I do want you here, Harry." He said quietly. "Sit
down. I think they want you here, too."
Harry snorted. "Don't you go telling me what to do-"
"Harry!" Draco now looked up from his hands, his face red with tears, his
features strained with fatigue. "Don't go all proud and Gryffindor on me.
Please. Sit down. Talk to me."
Enraged but still discreetly interested, Harry flopped back down on the sofa.
"What do you want to talk about?" He asked through gritted teeth.
"What did you see in that bathroom?" Draco asked.
"Lots." Harry replied flatly.
"Tell me." Draco said, his voice quiet.
Harry talked through the whole scene - from taking a piss to flinging the
haunted mirror in the tub. He felt his anger boil as he went through it - but he
wasn't angry at Draco anymore. He was angry at the mansion. Angry at it's scary
horror-house tactics - the things you would see in muggle films, pissed off at
it's shoddy morality judgements. He wanted nothing more than to knock Draco out,
fling him in the backseat of his car and drive him back to his home in London.
Even the wizarding press were better than this house of horrors.
Draco stayed silent for a long time. Harry risked a breath. "What did you
see, Draco?" He whispered finally.
Draco looked up at Harry, his silver eyes shining like endless pools of mercury.
"My father." he said.
~~~|~~~
to be continued...