Harry felt Draco's lips descend on his and was lost. His hands, having finally retired from their frantic playing, wrapped themselves around Draco's back and into Draco's hair. The silken strands brushed against his hands and Harry marveled why he had never thought to do this before. Harry turned in his seat so as to avoid the inevitable snapping of his neck the sharp angle of the kiss was bound to do. Crossing one leg over the length of the bench Harry felt the weight of Draco's body straddle his body.
Draco's hands scrambled frantically to remove the disgusting rags of Harry's muggle attire. His shirt disappeared without a thought, his belt clanged to the ground on a discordant note. The snap of a button and the release of a zipper and Harry was suddenly on his back with Draco's furious hands pulling down the last pieces of his clothing. Within moments Draco was on top of Harry.
Things slowed for a moment. The instruments, that had continued to play, had finished the melody and began to play something tense and dramatic. Draco recognized it as Beethoven's Pathetique, Harry knew nothing but the weight pressing upon him. And then it began, slow at first, flesh to flesh they moved as one. Harry was lost in the sensation of something moving within him. Draco was stunned at how good it felt to be touching so much of Harry at once.
The music began to race, their hearts keeping rhythm. The end was near and they felt it approaching. Draco grunted with the satisfaction of lust, Harry moaned a saddened sound knowing that their time had come to an end. Catching their breaths and finding themselves strangely upon the floor Draco rested his sweaty brow upon Harry's chest. And for the first time they relaxed in each others company, something quite without precedent.
But then Harry remembers where he is, how he got there, what he had done and more importantly with who. Harry remembers to feel ashamed, lying naked in his enemy's house. Harry jerks away and grabs at his discarded clothing seeking to hide the shame of what he's done.
And Draco catches his breath. Wincing in pain as his head unexpectedly hits the hard wooden floor. He wakes up from his euphoria and finds his lover scrambling away. He feels hurt, but then remembers that he isn't supposed to feel like that. Malfoy's aren't meant to feel like that. So he let's Harry get dressed watching as he struggles to separate his pants from his boxers. He watches from the piano bench where he sits playing a few notes on the keyboard.
"I never knew you could play" Draco ventures.
"Neither did I." Harry retorts brusquely. "What can I say I have talent coming out of my ass"
And Draco can't resist making an obvious pun, "Is that what muggles call it". And he is relieved when Harry blushes and turns away.
"Harry?" pleading
"Don't" whispered.
Silver eyes lock with green and everything is there. Shimmering on the surface, a world of pain and the answer. But the gaze is too intense and green eyes turn away.
A single tear from the melting ice man, hangs perilously upon a regal chin. A moment's hesitation before dropping, plunging to its death, absorbed into the seat cushion. But it's not alone and soon there are others. Diamonds falling from melted eyes.
And Harry turns to leave, unable to watch the death of the iceman, unable to save him. He walks onto the balcony to stare at the moon and spare a moments wonder for the future of a broken man. Leaning against the rail he feels a moment's pressure upon his back and then nothing. He doesn't even realize he's fallen until he feels the ground greet his face. And then he feels nothing.
And finally he and Draco find a common ground, if you'll excuse a bad pun, for Draco has felt nothing for a very long time.