Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter.
Warnings: language and Harry's stupidity...
And here is chapter eight... Sorry for seven and eight being so short, but there's a nice surprise in store for you in the next chapter!!!! Please read and review!
Chapter 8: Tears Don't Fall, They Crash Around Me
After a month, Draco stepped in. He didn't care about Ron, but he knew Harry was probably worse off than the Weasel. So, he flooed to George's apartment and demanded Harry come home.
"No," Harry said flatly. He ignored Draco's silver glare. It wasn't enough to make him go back to that pain, anyway.
Draco sighed. "Listen, Potter, you need to come back home! Your fucking band is still in London, you dolt, and they have no clue as to what's going on."
Harry turned away from his friend, hiding himself in George's chest. Draco was no fool, and he'd known for a long time what their relationship was. He still had a hard time adjusting to the fact that Harry was masochistic, or that he found comfort in George's fake embrace. Draco was well aware of George's feelings.
"Harry," Draco tried again.
Harry swirled around, glaring at Draco with such pain and anger that it took the blonde's breath away. "No, Draco. I can't do it anymore! Let me be, I'll be back in a bit. But for now, I'm on sabbatical. I need time to get over him."
Draco nodded and left, disappointed. He almost revealed to Harry that Ron wasn't in a very good state, that Ron was slowly drinking himself to death. But seeing the pain in those green eyes, Draco couldn't bring himself into guilting Harry to come home.
A week later, Harry was back in the studio. He wasn't actually over Ron, but he couldn't stand being at George's anymore. The guilt was eating him alive. He didn't care that George was using him too… Harry couldn't stand that he was taking advantage of George for a sick fantasy. So Harry stayed in his dressing room while they recorded Harry's songs.
And Harry's songs…they were becoming darker and more pain ridden. His manger adored the new sound. He told Harry that the sound was perfect for him, that it suited him much better than the old one. So, Harry ran with it. And soon enough, a new member was added to the band. A guy with shoulder-length ginger hair, hazel eyes, and so many tattoos Harry thought the guy's blood was ink. Justin was their new voice: the one that screamed.