Disclaimer: I do not own Draco, Harry, or any of the other characters that are the creation of J.K Rowling.

Summary: In a wave of unfeeling numbness, both Harry and Draco have found comfort in the unforgiving cold of the metal knife- and each other.

Chapter Two

"Mmph." Draco moaned, awaking from his deep sleep. He stretched, and yowled when his wrist, covered in dry blood, was found to be sticking to the fabric of his shirt. "Damnit. How the hell did I get here?" He peered around, noting that he was still in the park. Slowly, it started to come back...

"Who the hell are you, and what the fuck are you doing here?"

"It's a park, anyone is allowed."

"Get off of my swing."

Oh yes. The lovely Harry Potter. The famous Boy Who Lived. He had found him there, trying to get away. To cut himself. And that bastard had to interupt. God. Now he remembered. He had tried to steal his sanity, his only tool of self destruction that could save him. All the others were gone. But not that one.. He had one left. And he had gotten it back. Right? Hastily, Draco stuck his hand in his pocket, sighing in relief when the cool metal of the boxcutter left a bloody imprint on his hand.

Throwing his legs over the side of the bench, Draco gave his legs a moment to stablize, before getting to his feet, and starting toward the gate that led to the entrance to the park, which also served as an exit.

Stumbling throughout the bit of forest that served as an entry way to the park, Draco nearly stumbled over a passed out Harry, who stunk of strong liquor. "Oh, gag." Kicking Harry, Draco tried to wake him up, to no avail. "Damnit, Harry! Wake up!" He had no choice. It was either sticking his finger in water, or biting him. Since there was no water around, Draco leaned down and bit as hard as he could on Harry's tender earlobe.

"Agh, what the hell..?" Harry mumbled, rolling over, and accidently pushing Draco over. He slowly opened an eye, but quickly slammed it shut, for the bright sunlight was too much for his tender aching eyes at the present time.

Draco growled lowly under his breath, and kicked Harry in the stomach. "Wake up, damnit!"

Harry whimpered, turning away and curling into a ball. "Leave me alone."

SIghing, Draco yanked on one of the raven haired teen's arms. "Harry, you're hungover and you reek. Lets go, shall we?" He pulled Harry to his feet, and draped an arm around him, dragging him along, amid Harry's pathetic whimpering.

He clung desperatly to Draco, closely his eyes tightly to the swirling world that surrounded him. Wrapping his arms around Draco's neck, he leaned on him, and rested his throbbing head on Draco's strong shoulder.

"Come on..." Draco yanked on the hungover teen's arms again, trying to get him to move a bit faster.

"Mm, stop." Harry murmered, leaning heavily on the silver haired teen to stay upright. "Les go slower."

"No. Keep going." Draco hurried Harry along, knowing that he had limited time to get him to his house. "Harry, we're going to go to my house, get you cleaned up, and then you're going home. Ew, you need a bath. Really bad."

"Stop talking." Harry whined loudly, covering his ears with his hands, while moaning about how much his head hurt, and that he must have slept on it funny last night, must have slept on a rock.

"You're hungover, dumbass." Draco rolled his eyes, how did he not know that? It was quite obvious.

Harry snarled at Draco, then passed out again, leaving Draco to drag his dead weight home.

Still grumbling to himself, Draco finally reached the front steps to his house. Peering through the misty fog, Draco noted with a thankful sigh that no one was home.

He walked up to the front door, and unlocked it, stepping inside. He stumbled up the stairs slowly, lugging Harry with him. "God, you're heavy." he panted, gently propping a sleeping Harry up against the wall.

Harry groaned, and began to stir. "Where... where am I? Whats going on?"

Draco simply rolled his eyes, and turned away, turning on the taps in the bath tub. He turned back to Harry, dreading that he had to undress him, yet also looking forward to it.. for some.. reason. He shook his head, disgusted at the fact that he was having these sort of thoughs about the Golden Boy. He walks over to Harry, and pulls him to his feet, setting im on the toilet, and beginning to take off his clothing, starting with shoes and socks. His eyes shot to the top of his pants, and with a gulp, started to undo the button and the zipper. Slowly, ever so slowly, he reached his hand up to Harry's waistband sides, and slid his pants down.

All that remained were a tight shirt, and his low boxers. He put his hands on the bottom of Harry's shirt, and started to gently pull it off. Oh sweet lord, he had his nipples pierced! And oh wow... Look at those scars! They ran all over his chest and stomach, but they were beautiful. He traced a heart shaped scar with the tip of finger, and could feel Harry's heart beating underneath it. Harry squirmed a bit, and moaned softly. Draco drew a ragged breath, not realizing he had previously been holding it.All that remained on Harry's tight little body was his boxers...

Draco slid a finger into the elastic waistabnd of the boxers, feeling how muscular Harry was. He licked his dry lips, and proceeded to drag off Harry's boxers, giggling "Thank you." when Harry arched his back, as if helping him take his boxers off. He couldn't help but look, and my, Harry was well equipped.

WIth one final glance, Draco tore his eyes away. and walked over to the huge bathtub, which could actually be considered a hot tub, and finding it to be the perfect temperature, turned back to Harry.

Picking the boy up in his arms, Draco made it a point not to look at him as a sexual being, but as his mortal enemy. But if he was his mortal enemy, why was he helping him? Draco shook his head, and placed Harry in the warm water.

Harry awoke with a start as soon as he sunk into the bath. "What the...?" He gazed around confused, and obviously, still a little, or maybe more, drunk. His eyes lit up when he saw Draco standing there. "Come on in, sexy." he slurred, making waving motions with his hands.

Draco blushed and shook his head. "Uh, no thanks.." Why was he being so damn polite? This was ENEMY! Nothing more, nothing less. Normally, he would sneer at him, and say something awful, but there was just something so... vulnerable underneath that tough exterier... Draco just couldn't bring himself to say anything that he normally would. Perhaps he and Harry had something in common: their misery.