Summary: After the death of Sirius, the attack on his friends, and the possession of Lord Voldemort, Harry is destroyed. Memories that filled his mind bring him back to the one person that can make him feel safe, Draco Malfoy.

Prompt: Harry promised he'd be careful and stop being so reckless in the field, so when he's injured/cursed on a case, he seeks out the one person he knows won't tell Ron and Hermione: Draco Malfoy. Minimum: 420 words - Maximum: 1220 words. Either 1) Exes -OR- 2) Not Established Relationship.

Disclaimer: Everything belongs to JK Rowling

It was like sucking in a cold breath, inhaling the frosty air of a winter night. The ice went immediately to his lungs, freezing them and making it near impossible to draw in another breath.

Harry could feel something inhuman crawling in his veins, forcing his own soul into the confines of his own being. He was no longer the only one residing there.

"You've lost, old man." The words came out distorted, not said in entirely Harry's voice and he was confused as memories blurred his vision, removing him further from the world beyond.

A high-pitched scream, one calling his own name met his ears, filled his mind. It was a sound only he and one other person knew. The two of them being the only living things in the home the night it had happened, the same two that were witnessing it now.

This wasn't the first time Harry had heard the scream of his mother, the first happening nearly three years ago, and he was sure it wasn't the last. Nevertheless, the agony that consumed her burrowed its way inside his heart as if it was happening now.

The scene morphed, changing into the all too familiar face of Cedric Diggory. Harry watched, again, as life was drained from the stone-gray eyes, Cedric's soft, brown curls falling still like the rest of his body on the dew-covered grass.

And then, there was Sirius. The death that had happened only moments ago. The chuckle, the sparkle of laughter beneath the man's mustache as he retaliated against his cousin, then the flash of a spell, another. The smile fell, toppling as Sirius did through the veil. He disappeared like an apparition. Harry felt his own screams wrench from his body, the devastation of losing his godfather, his friend.

They continued to change, morphing into one another so frequently that it would have been impossible to tell them apart had he not experienced them himself. The bloody face of Arthur Weasley, the dementors sucking out Harry's soul, the loneliness that threatened to take over him completely. Harry gasped, desperate for oxygen, desperate to be free of this parasite.

"So weak, so vulnerable." The voice of Voldemort spoke so only he could hear.

"Harry." The heavy brogue of Dumbledore, another man Harry so loved, broke through his torment. He strained his ears, willing himself to hear what the headmaster had to say. Anything was better than the fires of hell currently brewing inside of him. "…its how you are not."

And it was Hermione, her skin flushed pink with life, her mouth stretched into a smile of laughter. The rust colored locks of Ron came next, his own deep, chuckle mingling with that of Hermione's and Harry's. Memories of the three of them hugging, of their friendship.

Harry felt Voldemort lurch inside of him, fully a witness to everything that Harry was. Last, was an image of a blonde boy, his face angular and cruel. Of Draco, throwing a sneer in his direction, "Potter" said with more distaste than someone who had swallowed a dung beetle.

His last name fell from Draco's lips again, whispered and sweet. And then they were kissing. Harry shoved against the wall of an abandoned classroom and Draco bearing over him, a hand on the wall of either side of Harry. The passion, the fire as they touched one another, exploring what had been hidden by taunts and snide remarks. Recollections of Harry meeting Draco in secret beneath his invisibility cloak, at Hogsmeade, wherever they were able to steal a moment alone. Voldemort squirmed further.

But, the memories continued. "They'll be waiting for you… - The Boy who Scored – or whatever it is they're calling you these days." A smirk had been given alongside the statement, both of them aware Draco hadn't been talking about quidditch.

A new warmth blossomed inside of Harry, forcing away the frost of Lord Voldemort. It sparked like kindle, giving birth to brilliant, red flame.

"You're the weak one." His voice escaped him, fully his own and without distortion this time. "You'll never know love, or friendship, and I feel sorry for you."

Voldemort gave a sudden, final movement, raging against the confines of Harry. Harry's lungs were cleared, exhaling Lord Voldemort and the chill and pain that went with it. His arms gave out, having not realized he was elevating his torso in the first place, and he fell, face pressing to the cold, black tile of the ministry.

Xxxx

Harry had passed through the reminder of the night in a blur, not fully there. He remembered his friends rushing into the atrium, having escaped enemies of their own. He remembered the vibrant green that lined the corridor, floos igniting as death eaters escaped and order members joined them. He faintly remembered the mauve colored, silk, pajamas that the Minister had worn and his mussed up, silver hair. The look of shock that formed on his face as Harry was finally validated.

But, the pain had been too great. There had been too much loss, too many deaths that were his fault and tonight and claimed another, Sirius.

He'd had one thing on his mind since the possession of Lord Voldemort, the fair-haired boy he had once called his boyfriend. Harry had been too terrified of the darkness that threatened to consume Draco, experiencing enough of it in his life, and had ended things between them. But, now, he wanted nothing more to be held in Draco arms, unable to be comforted by anyone else, not the way he needed to, and that's the direction he had gone.

I need to see you.

The blue doe burst from the tip of his wand, galloping in a circle around him before disappearing. Harry stood in the unoccupied classroom only three doors away from the Slytherin common room, their usual spot. It didn't matter that it was three am, Draco would find him.

Harry waited impatiently until finally, after he was quite certain he had aged a few years, the door squeaked open.

"Potter?" Draco hissed inside the room, and Harry rushed to him. The door was shut firmly, and Harry took only enough time to cast a locking charm before he made his needs known. It wouldn't stop anyone from coming in, but it would give them time to break apart, should Professor Snape come knocking.

Harry felt the hesitation beneath his lips, the stiffness of Draco's body as the other boy tried to work out what was happening. He felt a familiar wetness drifting down his cheeks, unable to contain himself any longer.

"Potter, wha-"

Harry shook his head. "It'll be in the Prophet tomorrow. For now, just love me."

Draco's lips thinned as he considered the prospect, his eyes flicking between Harry's. "Get over here, you git."

Harry obliged.