A/N: As I do in the beginning of every chapter, I'll have to thank my beta-reader, Sarya, for doing the job well again. The song is Lifehouse's 'Awake And Dreaming'. Without further babbling... The chapter number eight!

-

Chapter Eight: Awake And Dreaming

-

I half-glare at him straight in the eye, as I sit on the ground, palms flat against the asphalt and hair mussed. I am not going to stand up before I get some sort of an explanation, not only because I refuse to, but also because my legs are still shaking and I don't trust my balance quite yet.

My eyes, surely as cold as the icy Arctic, bore into his now pale green ones, where the usually so vibrant fire is merely dull at the moment and flickers in an unsure way. I can read the thoughts behind those eyes, the exact same thoughts that I had when Harry asked if Kyle was angry at me yesterday.

'How much can I tell him?'

"Harry," I start calmly, taking hold of my wrecked nerves. "What was that?"

He eyes me warily and purses his lips. "I never meant any of this to happen."

I frown. Do I want him to tell me what just happened and what he has to do with it?

"I'm not in good relations with those guys, as you probably guessed, and they want something from me. I don't know how they found me, but now they have an idea where you live, so the wisest thing to do would be for you to find a new apartment as soon as possible."

Blank. Blank blank blank.

I am speechless, all I'm able to do is listen.

"I will help you, of course, since this was my fault and all. Those people will certainly come back to find you, and that way they'll try to find me. And believe me, if they found you they would certainly not treat you like a flower on their palm."

I make a weird high sound in my throat and swallow, still looking at Harry as my anger melts into confusion. "I-"I start, but it feels like my jaw is limp and incapable of forming clear words. "I don't understand."

'Whoa, aren't you a smart boy.', a voice inside my head applauds, and inwardly I glare at it. But I can't deny the truthfulness of its words.

Harry looks at me apologetically. "I'm truly, deeply sorry about that one. It seems like all I do is apologize, first because of Ron and now them." he laughs bitterly and shakes his head.

Now I have forgotten why I was angry in the first place. The way he seems truly sorry apparently has the power to make people forget about their anger.

"No one got hurt, though. This could have ended much worse, you know.", I say, trying to make him look at the things in a more positive way.

"Oh, I can agree with you on that one." A few seconds of silence follows, during which I glance at my palms and brush off the sand and small stones that bored into my skin.

He offers his hand again. "What do you say, should we go someplace else in case the men decide to come back?" I take his hand. The soft contact sends crimson electric shocks straight to my chest. "Or the owner of this car arrives."

I smile a little and he pulls me up. Even though I was terrified just a few minutes ago, somehow I also knew I was safe. Harry was there with me, and when I was incapable of doing anything myself, he acted for me and pulled me behind the car. He was sheltering me with his own body, for goodness sake!

If Harry hadn't pulled me out of the bullets' way I might be bleeding to death on the ground, blood gushing from my mouth like a bubbling spring. I'd cough and cough and cough, seeing everything with a red tint due to splattered blood that got to my eyes, and eventually I'd wear myself out and drown. It's finally sinking in, the fact that I was almost shot is getting to me.

Oh no, not again, I could be a moody woman, I feel my bottom lip quivering pathetically.

'Look what you did, you went and ruined your trousers, foolish child.' my father hisses at me as I rise from the ground, having just tripped over a paving stone. 'Draco, don't cry in public. Someone might think that something is wrong, and I don't want to give them the wrong impression.'

'Wrong impression.' I think bitterly and bite my inner bottom lip.

He has an alarmed look on his face at this, but somehow I manage to pull myself together and stop embarrassing myself in front of Harry any further.

"You know," I start in a surprising collected way, "that sounds like a good idea to me." I brush the remaining dirt off my clothes, blink away the beginnings of tears in my eyes, and meet his gaze again.

"Are you alright?"

"Yeah, I'm just in desperate need of a cold shower, but Kyle is probably still waiting for me outside my flat. I'll just go back there once Kyle is gone, he'll give up at some point."

"What are you going to do until then?"

"I don't know. How about that coffee you mentioned?"

As he smiles his beautiful, white teeth flash in an enchanting way that would certainly make many girls weak at the knees. "Perfect." Oh, and to me he is.

We walk to his car, but as he takes out the key and pushes the button, the lights of a red car flash and the locks open. I could have sworn that last time the car was blue and a different shape than this one.

We get in the car and immediately I can see a few droplets of water hitting the front glass. This is so damn weird, everything seems to follow some pattern. Every time I have seen Harry it has rained. On the roof. At the café. Now.

He turns on the radio, and Maroon 5's 'This Love' starts playing. He reminds me to put on my seatbelt, and the car, droning softly, speeds away from the parking area. It might be just me, but I feel like he's driving faster than yesterday, making the turns sharper, and I feel the need to hold the handle in the door to steady myself. The car we're in is a sports car, I can notice that from the way its roof is so low and just generally from the shape. I suck at recognizing cars, so I am not going to make any guesses about this one's brand name.

If Harry truly owns all these cars, he has to be stinking rich. The last night's car was brand new and this one seems to belong to the kind of person who buys cars as a hobby, to pass the time on weekends. I let my fingertips touch the beige leather seat lightly, wondering how on earth Harry can let something filthy like me sit in a car like this. My whole presence in the car feels awkward and somehow wrong. Like when some artist paints a marvellous piece of art, getting credit and being offered huge amounts of money for the painting. Then, after twenty years he suddenly decides to add a new figure in it, making all buyers wrinkle their nose in distaste and withdraw their offers, for the new figure does not belong there, it's not an original part of the painting.

Even before Kyle violated me the way he did, I was nothing but a cheap copy of something that ceased to exist a long time ago, the second I left my childhood home. Back then in the Malfor Manor I was more original, living in the environment I was born in, I was expensive and worth something to someone. The items I owned were actually part of my life, and they truly looked like they belonged to my life at that time. Now that I look at those items that I have for some reason decided to save, I only see the reflection of my former self, and see how they don't belong anywhere anymore. I had nicked those items from the place where they really belong and now they're just sad, mocking reminders of what I used to have. Reminders from the time when I was still approved by my father and my bank account had no bottom at all. And what am I doing now? Trying to blend into an environment that is totally unfamialiar unfamiliar to me, and pretending to be a part of it.

In a way I used to be shackled amongst my money, not being able to go out and play with poorer kids and all, but now I am chained by money, which is not a good option, either. Back then I didn't really know of better, and for years I lived inside a bubble that burst when my father raised his hand to hit me on the cheek. The bubble was forever broken and I had to escape, ending up here.

I am fine with living the way I do now, but it's in human nature to want more.

I am not completely sure if my childhood environment is where the 'I' part of me truly rests, even though the money my past was full of did make me more confident about the future. My current lifestyle is not a haven, either, but here I am free to be and do whatever I want to, to a certain extent. That was something that took me a long time to get used to. There are plusses and minuses in both ways of living, and unfortunately, it seems like the good sides in both of them can't be combined together. I can't have the wealth and easiness of my childhood and the freedom and independence I have nowadays, it doesn't seem like that would be likely to happen.

Altogether I don't exactly miss the time when I was young, rich and how easy life was, since now I am free in a different way than before. But the freedom has its price, it was so high-priced that I had to sell myself and this is what is left. All elegance was wrenched away violently, leaving gashes and pain behind, and the dirt beneath surfaced. I can buy myself fine clothes, I can hide myself under Christian Dior powder and mascara, but it doesn't change the fact that I'm a cheap, second-hand person.

Yes. I used to be low-cost, but being low-cost doesn't necessarily mean that I'm also dirty. True, I have done many things that have left me stained, but what Kyle did contaminated me all over. He stole me and the remaining droplets of dignity I still had!

I feel exhausted as I start dealing with the pain Kyle afflicted on me for the first time. I had refused to let myself think of the incident too deeply and now it's coming back to me. I knew there would be a point where I understand what happened, and I think this is something that prepares me for the final break-down.

Once again I hold back the tears of anger and smothered anguish, facing the darkened window from which I see my own, faint reflection, and houses and people flashing past in the background. Taking deep breaths, I reassure myself that everything's going to be okay, perhaps not the same as before, but alright nonetheless.

"So",

Startled, I turn to look at Harry, I had forgotten he was there.

"For how long have you known this guy, was his name Kyle?" Harry asks as he stops at the traffic lights.

"Yeah. I met Kyle for the first time something like eight months ago in a bar I went to with a few friends." My voice is surprisingly even, it doesn't even crack as I say his name.

The traffic lights turn green. I glare at nothing in particular, staring directly forwards through the glass.

'Kyle does not deserve to be talked about in Harry's presence.'

"For that long," he states in a politely curious way.

"Well, yeah. But we weren't anything to each other for many months." Talking about him is like running in waist-high water, it gets me just about nowhere. I learned to swim only a few years ago, and I know that I'm never going to be a good swimmer.

"Aha. And now you're breaking up with him. You mentioned something about you two not living together?"

"He and I have our own apartments, thank God. I couldn't bear living with him in the same flat. He's like a small child, always seeking for attention!" The things I say are mild compared to what I'd want to say, and at the same time refuse to ever say out loud.

"Children need much attention, and sometimes adults do, too." The car turns left. "Children are innocent and rely on their parents, but the need to be taken care of wears off as years pass. At the same time the innocence disappears and we all become old and cautious, unable to trust one another blindly." Harry changes the radio channel. "Children have the kind of innocense that would never allow them to treat other people the way adults do. Just look at the deeds of grown-ups today!"

His laughter is bitter and full of hatred towards our own generation. "Children just can't understand what we do, and I think that many adults don't even know themselves what the hell it is that they're doing."

Harry has no idea how much I can agree with him. I can relate to his story too well for my own liking. In all honesty, I can say that I am lost, and doing things that have no particular purpose.

"Paedophilia, cheating on another person, killing and slaughtering other human beings because of jealousy, misunderstandings or disagreements... Wars, greed, rapes, fights after a few glasses of alcohol, and stalking... Or, when people like Kyle beat the one they claim they love."

I feel blank. Although his words make sense, I can't make sense of myself. I can't understand how, why and when I or Kyle became the way we are.

"I know better than to believe his words that weigh just as much as my non-existent romantic feelings towards him."

The second those words leave my mouth I reslise how I didn't notice Harry's hidden ploy. I freeze, squeezing the side of the seat as I hold my breath. I don't know what I'm waiting for to happen, or not to happen.

Something inside the car shifts and erupts silently. I can easily imagine the sound of a clock ticking somewhere next to my ear, the sign of an agonizing moment that just seems to go on and on.

Harry's calm, smooth voice breaks the silence in the car. "He'll get what he deserves in the end." His face is expressionless, but I can see how he grips at the wheel, fingers almost white and knuckles rock-hard.

"You- Hey! He didn't do anything!" I yell, turning to glare daggers at Harry, not really angry at him, but myself.

Harry pulls the car to the side of the road and turns to look at me directly in the eye.

"You don't have to lie to me, I can see when someone's been beaten up." I want to look away but my eyes are locked to his, it's almost painful. "It doesn't take much for one to put two and two together. Even though I haven't known Kyle for long, I can see what kind of guy he is."

"I just had a small accident on the stairs and that's it."

"Last time you said that you were beaten up by people who didn't like gays."

I blink. "Y-yeah, that's what I meant! I got beaten up by strangers and also fell down the stairs to my flat." Oh hell, I am so busted, even I know it.

"For Christ's sake, Draco! I'm not completely stupid. The asshole hit you!"

"You might just as well be, because he didn't do anything! You're imagining things! And even if he did, it's none of your business!"

He becomes totally silent, Kyle's shout in the corridor in front of my apartment echoes in my head.

"Anyways it's none of your business. Draco's none of your business. So piss off."

I turn to look through the front glass, not really seeing anything anymore.

I won't look at him, I don't want to see his expression. I am such a big-mouthed retard... So many times when you can't find the right words to say, you say the wrong ones.

"Draco? Draco, look at me." His calm voice sounds nice in my ears, too nice considering the things I just said, yelled, to him, and my own shame makes me look at my feet. I've never been good at apologizing, it's always been something Malfoys aren't exactly good at, for they make no mistakes. Sometimes when my ego isn't big enough I feel the need to say those unburdening words, but my throat dries and everything seems to suddenly get more difficult than it's supposed to be. Apologizes are at the same time both 'just words', but also much more than that.

Harry's voice is so soft, and the mere softness of it would be able to break me, but when the words are even more powerful I'm bound to crash down like a dozen dices piled up on top of each other. "I'm sorry if I said something to upset you."

I'm actually crying now, clear tears running down my flushed cheeks and washing the name 'Malfoy' off my skin.

I'm no Malfoy... What the hell am I?

"Draco, please look at me. It's okay."

It feels hard, but I comply, looking sideways at him. My nose feels strange and tingly, and I sniff. The humiliation of being like this makes me angry at myself, causing me to cry in shame, which only makes me more angry at myself. I am not supposed to be this weak, I'm supposed to be tougher than this. Being gay doesn't mean that I'm supposed to have the mental strength of a fifteen-year-old teenage girl.

His hands comes to wipe away my tears, thumbs soothing my burning cheeks, and he looks at me straight in the eye, holding my chin with the tips of his fingers.

He really looks at me. The intense look he gives me goes right through my topper-most layer of existence, and far beyond it.

I wish I had a curtain to pull in front of those things that I don't want him to see in me. But the problem is, I want him to see straight into my very core, where my inner-most thoughts and feelings lay. I know what I don't want him to see, but if I didn't show him those things, too, I would never be able to show him what I'm really about.

I close my eyes, enjoying the warmth of his palms against my cheeks. I've never felt like someone had truly seen me before like this. The part of me that passers-by can't see was used to being invisible, and now it's almost bare to Harry's eyes.

I'd hate to think that I can be read like an open book. The information someone else would be able to see with a mere side-ways glance might get into the wrong hands. If all or even a few of my secrets, small or not, were to be revealed, it would be possible for me to get totally crushed, and become even more isolated. For even though I keep in touch with people, in reality I live on a deserted island by myself, watching from the bushes as random ships pass it.

"It is not your fault," Harry says in a low voice, facing me, his thumbs soothing the skin right under my eyes before briefly touching my down-cast eyelashes. I feel completely peaceful all of a sudden, I don't really hear anything else but Harry's voice that soothes me the same way the sea soothes some people, as the soft waves hit the sandy shore repeatedly. His other hand pets my hair, brushing a few strands from my eyes and moving them behind my ear. His eyes rake over my features as he rearranges one more silly strand of blond hair behind my pink ear. "It is certainly not your fault."

My tear-filled eyes can only see blurry images and blotches of colour. My breathing is calm, and my crying has turned from ragged sobbing to silent shedding of tears. His fingers run through my hair and slide behind my neck, resting where the hair is short and baby-soft, and his fingertips caress the tender skin there. My eye-sight becomes clearer, tears cease to spill from my swollen eyes, and I notice that the distance between our faces seems ridiculously small, yet not in a threatening way.

Without thinking I reach out and tentatively touch his jaw, shifting on my seat a little. My eyes travel over his features, from hazy eyes to luscious lips, from lips to eyes and back to the lips. My eyes glaze over and my eyelids become heavy, breath coming hotly past my slightly parted lips.

I tilt my head to one side a little, my lips are a mere inch away from his. I close my eyes.

'This ship can stop at my island.'

... TBC ...

A/N: Although it took me quite a while to find the time to write this chapter, I succeeded and hopefully the result pleases you, readers. I had had some major difficulties with it, and even though I had the chapter fully written, it took me weeks to edit it so that it would also please myself to some extent. And although the amount of reviews of the seventh chapter was smaller than the one's before that, some of the reviews I got were motivating enough to make me wanna write this chapter, too :)

I haven't started writing the next chapter at all, but I'll start as soon as I find the time and inspiration. I'm gonna have to study really hard for the next two weeks, since I'm about to attend the exam that gives me the final grade from Swedish (Yes, in Finland we have to study Swedish, too).

Please, since I gave you some H/D slashiness that doesn't just occur inside Draco's head, I beg you on my knees to give me some feedback! Here are some answers to reviews:

Serena MacBeth: yes, I do check all reviews even though quite a while had passed since the last update. Thanks for reviewing, it's always nice to see how new people have found my fic :)

Sheree: You'll find out at some point who/what sorta people those guys were. Everything's just about to start.

driven to insanity: Oh my God, I can't say anything else about your review... I mean, it was LONG. Hehe.

Carrot: No, you cannot hug Harry, he's Draco's, remember? Our sweet little blonde wouldn't like it if you tried to take him away ;) And when have I ever said Harry's a cop?

Saint Angelius: You're right, Harry's not a one-dimentional character. No way.

GaBoO: Indeed, and I'm not going to tell you what exactly I'm hiding here.

-Devilita.