A/N: Bah! I give up on the formatting. If anyone knows what I am doing wrong can they let me know? I'd be extremely grateful. I just want more spaces between my paragraphs and between the italicised memories of conversations Harry and Draco had. Is that too much to ask? But no matter what I do it will not save them...sigh Anyway, enjoy this chapter.

Jamie

xxxx

Chapter 2. Empty.

Another night, another body, another reason to hate what his life had become...

The parties grew tiresome and the company was anything but enjoyable. Every few seconds the sound of clinking champagne flutes rang through the night air like annoying little bells, signifying the latest pointless toast, made by sickeningly dull yuppies who liked to 'converse' about such things as how well paid their jobs were and how much money they just spent on their new yacht.

His money, confidence and looks had secured Draco a place among these creatures and he attended every party, drank champagne, laughed, agreed, 'conversed' and ate Foie Gras on crackers with them… But he wasn't one of them.

Oh, he'd join in their conversations about wine, sushi, hair and nails but each night after the party had finished, he'd go back to his flat feeling empty. He'd tried to fill that emptiness with good looking boys on occasion, picking them out at random from the crowd of departing phoneys, or spending the duration of the gathering sweet talking them into coming back to his place at the prospect of having 'a bit of fun.'

They always came, of course. Draco had never been given a single refusal and for a few moments while he and his bed partner were so heavily wrapped in carnal bliss, Draco could almost forget about Harry.

Almost…

Harry, will you still love me when I'm old and grey?

Of course I will.

He could never forget Harry. As much as he'd tried over the past ten months Harry was always on his mind, casting a shadow over his heart and ripping him slowly and painfully apart from the inside. Harry was the void left in his soul and the reason for his complete emptiness. He'd fill it for little more than a few minutes, fucking pretty boys, but as soon as the orgasm-induced haze had faded, the cold, dark, lonely emptiness steadily filled him to the brim once again, until he almost felt sick.

"It's alright," whispered the boy softly, shifting awkwardly at the top of the bed and watching as Draco sobbed uncontrollably into his hands.

"No it's not fucking alright!" Draco snapped back, "I called you someone else's name… while I was fucking you…" He shuddered as the pain swept over him and all he could do was cover his face with his hands to try and hide the tears.

The poor boy had no idea what to do. His pride hadn't been that badly dented as he'd never even given his name to the person now sitting at the end of the bed, crying his heart out. "I'm sure it happens to everyone sometimes…" he said, hoping this would act as some sort of comfort. But Draco wasn't having any of it.

He turned to the boy, cheeks streaked and glistening wet with tears, "It does not happen to everyone. It doesn't even happen to the majority of people. It happens to stupid people who think too much about other things and don't pay any attention! Do you fucking understand me?! This is not normal, this is…"

"I'm not angry…"

"WELL BULLY FOR YOU, THEN!"

There was a long awkward silence in which neither boy moved or spoke until finally Draco returned his gaze to the floor.

"Is there something I can do…?" the boy asked after several more moments of uncomfortable silence.

"No, thank you. But you can go if you want."

There was a sigh, followed by a short stillness, then the boy stood up, gathered his clothes, changed quickly and left without so much as a backwards glance.

And Draco sobbed. Sobbed because he knew he couldn't escape the torment. Couldn't escape his past. He sobbed because he was alone.

He sobbed because he had called out Harry's name.

.o0o.

This particular night was Aaron's contract celebration and of course, Draco had been invited. Aaron was a young millionaire go-getter who had just signed a deal with France's leading finance company and made quite a name for himself. The usual crowd of pseudo-sophisticates were expected for tonight's little gathering and Draco made himself a deal, to make an appearance, wish Aaron good luck then leave before people had had too much to drink. He had woken up with a headache and decided that he wouldn't make it any worse than it needed to be by drinking and spending the night with a bunch of harpies squawking into his ear.

He left the flat at eight and arrived at the party little more than ten minutes later. The walk to and from these parties was by far much more enjoyable than the events themselves and Draco often spent time just sitting by the Seine and losing himself in the darkness and soft rippling of the water. It wasn't so much a comfort as a distraction and he was thankful for it.

He took the lift to the top floor and then the extra flight of stairs to the roof and was instantly greeted with the sound of champagne corks popping, glasses clinking and the mindless banter of dozens of young, upwardly progressive, pathetic ingrates.

He sighed and flicked an invisible piece of lint from his shirt sleeve before taking a deep breath and working his way through the crowd.

"Draco daaarling, how wonderful to see you."

"Oh you're here. I'm sooo glad you could make it, honey."

"Wonderful entrees, tonight, daaaarling. Try the mini quiches."

It was enough to make him want to reach for the nearest tooth pick and jam it in their eyes, but instead, he smiled. He greeted people, looked intrigued when they regaled him with anecdotes of how they'd scooped the business deal of the century and laughed at their piss poor jokes. It was easy. He'd spent nearly his whole life pretending to be something he wasn't and he'd become quite the thespian.

"Ah, well you see. I was on the verge of signing a contract with Francegate and moving all my index shares over to the holding account I'd opened up for the deal, but then Marcus told me about this other place and well… What they were offering was over 40 percent more than what Francegate had offered so I politely turned Francegate down and signed the deal with Atlantico."

Draco nodded and took a sip from his glass. It was all terribly boring and he'd actually let his mind wander momentarily during Aaron's speech and for a while he was back by the Seine, sitting quietly by the river listening to it lapping softly against the bank.

"Of course I immediately closed down the account and moved all the money back into…. Oh... Excuse me for a moment will you?"

Draco blinked and nodded again, stepping aside as Aaron went to greet a late comer. Draco took the opening as it was given to him and used it to slip back through the crowd and over to the far table. Thankfully not many people were gathered there and the ones who were seemed to be too drunk to hold anything in the way of a conversation. Putting his glass down to pour himself another drink, Draco sighed and looked out across the city.

The view from the rooftop was not so different to the view from his bedroom window. At first it had been odd for Draco to look out of the window and see a city. Buildings, cars, the hustle and bustle of city life. He'd grown used to looking out of the window every morning and seeing grass… trees… flowers and a small stream that seemed to go on forever.

Harry?

Yes, Draco?

Will we get married out there one day?

If that's what you want.

I'd like to.

Then of course we will.

At times it was almost as if remembering a dream, but no dream could ever have been so beautiful and so painful all at once.

"You're Draco, aren't you?" came a voice from over the blond's shoulder. He fixed the smile back across his face and turned round, holding his now refilled glass below his chin.

"I am," he said politely "And… you are…?"

"Phil. The name's Phil. Nice to meet you," the man replied and held out his hand to be shaken. Draco shook it, observing the man's loose grip. "Bit of a boring party, this, isn't it?" Phil continued, glancing briefly over his shoulder and giving Draco a friendly smile. "I've seen more life at a funeral."

Draco gave a small smile at the first sign of genuine humour he'd seen for months. "Frightfully boring, I agree. Though I tend not to pay too much attention to them."

Phil nodded in agreement and gave a small chuckle as he reached over to the bottle of champagne on the table. "It's easy to lose track of what they're saying sometimes. I was listening to that Aaron bloke earlier. Couldn't for the life of me tell you what he was talking about, though." He stood back with the bottle clutched tightly in his hand and poured himself a glass, spilling a couple of drops onto his sleeve. "Lost interest a few syllables in and started thinking about the sausages I had for dinner."

Draco actually laughed then and leaned back against the table. "So, what brings you here, then? I don't think I've seen you at one of these parties before."

"Well," Phil replied "Mainly the booze. The food's not bad and there's always a bit of Charlie going around." He added with a wink.

Draco frowned, looking confused. "Who's Charlie?"

Phil looked at Draco in surprise for a few moments then laughed. "Oh, come on, man. Don't tell me you don't know what Charlie is…?" He waited for a while and when he got nothing but a look of puzzlement from the smaller boy he grinned. "Happy powder, love dust, candy cane, green gold…? Cocaine, my friend."

Realisation dawned. "Oh. I see," Draco said, nodding. "And… you do that often, do you?" he asked, trying to sound totally nonchalant.

Phil took a large gulp from his glass and nodded "Yeah. It's good for livening things up. Making things seem more fun than they really are, you know? Great for these types of things. I reckon that's why half the people even bother to come to these parties. Here…" he said, moving to stand next to Draco by the table and pointing to a group of people in the far corner, huddled in a circle around a table. "You see them? They're all doing it. And uh… that guy coming out of the toilet? He's just been doing it, too."

Draco watched as each person at the table took it in turns to lean over and sniff a fine line of white powder up a rolled up five pound note. He'd heard of cocaine before, of course, but this was the first time he'd ever seen people using it. It was a rather strange way to take drugs, he thought. Most of the wizarding drugs he'd encountered were in potion form and the few powdered drugs that were available on the wizarding black market had to be added to potions or liquids and dissolved.

"Did you want to give it a go?" Phil asked, pouring himself another glass of champagne and finishing off the bottle.

Draco shook his head. "No, thank you. I have a bit of a headache…" he said, trying to find a way of refusing without making it appear as if he were chickening out. But Phil only smiled and shook his head.

"This stuff is great for headaches. It'll be gone in a matter of seconds and then you'll be able to sit and listen to Aaron talk all night and it will be the most stimulating conversation you'll ever have because that's what the white rabbit does, man."

Draco really couldn't think of anything he had to lose by saying yes and it was either this or go home and dose himself with sleeping pills. He sighed and finished off his own glass of champagne and placed it on the table. "Alright."

"Good man," Phil said excitedly as he pulled out a small clear plastic bag from his pocket full of the same white powder Draco had seen on the table. He opened it up and poured a small pile onto the glass table top before using a credit card to shift and mould it into a long, thin line. He then passed Draco a five pound note and smiled. "Go for it."

Draco didn't move for a while, just watched the people at the other table snorting their drugs, drinking their wine and laughing at the smallest, most insignificant of things. To watch them was almost painful. They looked ridiculous, like a bunch over hyperactive children and Draco wondered how he'd never noticed this before. He'd been too busy thinking about… other things that he'd never stopped to take notice. Maybe he was missing out. Looking at them now, he couldn't help but feel pity and wonder how empty their own lives had to be that they felt the need to fill the void with drugs.

Maybe joining them wouldn't be so bad after all. They were all trying to escape from something, were they not?

He took a deep breath and rolled the note into a tight cylinder before taking a seat, placing the paper tube at the start of the line and snorting it all.

Do you know how amazing you are?

A laugh.

What are you talking about?

You're like a drug. You get me so high.

Ahh, that's just the sex talking.

No… seriously. I think I'm addicted to you.

.o0o.

Draco woke the next day with no idea what he'd done the night before or even how he'd made it home. All conscious memory had been wiped out from the moment he'd sniffed the white powder. He hoped he hadn't made too much of a fool of himself. One thing he could remember was feeling very free but Merlin only knew where the rest of his night had gone.

He groaned and pushed himself out of bed. He was dressed in his shirt, tie, boxers and one sock. He had no idea where the other had got to but he saw his trousers lying in a crumpled pile by the bathroom door. His flat had been getting steadily messier during the months he'd been living there and the sight of yet another item of clothing strewn across the floor was enough to make him want to climb back into bed and not emerge again until God himself decided it was time for a spring clean.

The floor was barely visible for junk and Draco had to make sure he didn't stand on anything sharp as he made his way to the bathroom to wash. This room was hardly in any better condition except more of the floor was visible as Draco had dumped all his dirty laundry in the bath instead.

He leaned over the sink and took a long, hard look at himself. His face was puffy, his hair askew, there was dried saliva streaked across his cheek. He could also taste vomit in his mouth and he shuddered as he vaguely recalled puking over the balcony wall onto the street below. He couldn't go on living like this. No, not living. He wasn't living. He was existing, and doing a pretty poor job of it. But he couldn't keep on this way. He was hardly human anymore. He'd become a robot, a loner. Sure, he'd found a place among the high climbing pre-aristocrats, but what was he getting out of it?

A tickle on the inside of his nose alerted him to the fact that something wasn't quite right but he wasn't fast enough to grab a tissue before a thin line of blood trickled out of a nostril and down over his lip. He caught it on his sleeve and wiped it away before pulling off a length of toilet roll and holding it to his nose. This wasn't something he'd been warned about. He wished he'd stuck with his refusal and gone home but he hadn't and now he was kicking himself for it.

He could not keep doing this. He was dying here, suffocating. Every day it got harder and harder to get out of bed. Every day he cared a little less about everything and as much as that would have helped with the pain, he didn't want it. He didn't want to lose touch with humanity and turn into an empty shell. He had to leave.

He finished washing and dressed before picking up the phone and dialling for a cab.

He didn't bother telling anyone he was going. He left no note and took only his money with him. The cab ride was uneventful and although he spent the whole time looking out the window, the only thing he saw was the river as they sped on by. Nine months he'd been living in Paris and the Seine was the only thing in the whole city he'd miss.

"Thank you sir, we hope you enjoy your flight."

Draco waited in the lounge for what seemed like an eternity. He'd made up his mind to return to England and try to start a new life… again. A life where he could function like a human being and interact with others without feeling obligated to agree. He had no idea where he would be going, having ruled out going back… there. He had no idea whether Harry had moved on but he wasn't about to take that chance. He didn't think he could face seeing Harry again, he'd been hurt too deeply and the wounds still needed time to heal.

If things had happened any other way, he might not have had a problem with facing the once love of his life, but things had got so bad between them that just thinking about it caused him near physical pain.

The thing that hurt the most, however, hadn't been the media or the name calling, but the fact that Harry had let him go so easily. Draco had stood before him and told him he was leaving and Harry hadn't even put up a fight. There was no begging or pleading, no reassurance that things would be alright, though it wouldn't have made any difference, really. Draco would have left no matter what Harry had done, even if he'd become king of England. But Harry did nothing. He'd listened, agreed and just let him walk away. Watched him climb into that taxi and then stood by the roadside until it had vanished out of sight. Draco hated him for that. Hated him for not fighting, hated him for not begging and hated him for not once ever coming to find him.

"Calling all passengers for flight 759. Flight 759 to Heathrow now boarding."