Okay guys, so huge apologies for making you all wait BUT I have two good excuses. For the first few days I was reading the hunger games and I wasn't going to stop for anything, they are AMAZING BOOKS. And for the last few….I've met a man, a very, very nice man! Anyway, finally up, please, please review!

Guilt gripped at Harry like a vice. It caved his chest in and squeezed his mind, making even breathing feel like an impossible feet.

He was back in his penthouse flat and nursing his fourth brandy. He had buried the poor man in the garden of the house, but it was an ugly job with the corpse falling to bits and oozing all over the lawn. All of that meant Harry couldn't keep anything down, and in the end the grave held not only rotting flesh, but Harry's own blood, vomit and tears. It could almost be considered comic if it wasn't so serious.

He had killed someone. Not in self-defence, not in defence of another, but he had outright killed… he and Draco lived in decadence and wanted for nothing while some poor soul starved to death. Starved, while Harry could have saved him. His would have been a slow and painful death, so utterly alone, so cold, not even light for comfort. Harry tortured himself by imagining the man's last moments, reliving them in a hundred ghastly ways.

He downed the drink and poured himself another, shivering, not only in remorse, but because he knew this wasn't the end. He had left a wooden cross as a grave marker, but he would have to get a proper headstone, probably a huge monument as his mark of regret. He knew it wouldn't do anything, but it was all he could do.

But getting a grave meant finding out who he was. His name. his birthday, probably seeing his family… Harry's breathing was shallow and shaky and he felt like he was on the edge of a panic attack. He was so, so sorry.

He felt threated by everything, like every item, memory, thought was accusing him of the crimes he had committed. He felt so much judgment inside of him that he imagined it to be everywhere and he was drowning in it.

He would rather down his sorrows in alcohol, so he did.

He woke up the next morning draped across the table, back aching and skull throbbing. His mouth was fuzzy and he felt like hell. But he was still crushingly aware of the fact that he wasn't feeling anywhere near as much pain as he had made Draco feel, or that poor man from yesterday…

And so Draco and the corpse were the first thing on Harrys mind. Well, Draco was always the first thing on Harry's mind, and from now on he guessed the corpse was going to take up permanent residence too…

God he had to find out what that guys name was, it felt so disrespectful to keep thinking of him as 'the corpse'

But he had no idea where to start. It occurred to him now that he should have kept a part of the body to see if it was magically identifiable. He laughed bitterly, couldn't he do anything right?

But at least he had something to do now. He fed Pringles quickly and changed, trying to look as if he had a reason to live anymore.

First, he tried Hermione; see if she had any ideas as to identify the man. But she wasn't in, probably the university library he guessed, memories of Hogwarts coming back to him with a fierce longing for happier times. Now, he was totally at a loose end. He knew Hermione could help him, but he didn't feel like hanging around for her.

And then he thought of the next most intelligent person he knew; Severus Snape. Well, to be fair, Severus was equally as intelligent as Hermione, if not more so, but for obvious reasons he wasn't Harry's first choice.

For a moment, Harry loitered on Hermione's door step, wondering if he should ask the man for advice. And then he thought; Fuck it, I might as well, I don't really care if I piss him off. And besides, it was better than feeling depressed all day, and yes, he was that desperate for something to do.

That was true, although he did have an ulterior motive; he was desperate to see if Draco was there. But he did have a valid reason for going, and Severus had been at his house plenty of times… So maybe it wasn't too bad. With a deep breath, he aperated to Severus home. He had only been there once before, during the war, but he remembered where it was.

The house was pretty much what he remembered it to be; modest and yet with an air of dignity. It was a brown cottage that looked to be very old, over all it was nice, but it needed some colour.

Now he was here, he wasn't too sure that it was a good idea. The last time he talked with the man it was reasonably cordial, but still, turning up on his door step? Maybe he should just owl… but then he thought about the possibility that Draco was only a few feet away from him and before he knew it he was ringing the doorbell.

He waited only a moment before the door was opened. Severus did not look pleased to see him.

"Potter" he sneered, spittle land on Harrys shoes. "what do you want?"

"I wanted to ask for your help." Now he was face to face with the man he admitted it was a bad idea to come here, but in the hazy state of guilt and despair he now lived in he wasn't very good and making smart decisions.

Severus opened his mouth, no doubt to say something sarcastic and unhelpful but then someone appeared behind him and Harry yelled; "Hermione?"

"Harry!" she shot back, surprised but clearly happy to see him.

The first thing Harry noticed about her was that she was wearing what seemed to be a muggle lab coat, the second was that she was actually wearing makeup, and apart from whatever the hell was on her jacket, she looked nice.

"what are you doing here?" she asked. "my question exactly." Severus added, looking more than a little annoyed.

"I looked for you first actually Hermione" Harry said, trying to dodge the question. He hadn't really thought about the fact he would have to admit to murder… god he was all over the place, he felt tears pick at the back of his eyes and was aware of how insane he must look, showing up like this, crying for seemingly no reason...

She raised her eyebrows and reached out to him, before again asking; "why?" Finally, Harry knew he was going to have to say. He opened his mouth but before he could, a new voice joined them; "Potter" he hissed, deadly as a viper.

Harry's breath caught in his chest. No matter how desperately he had wanted to see Draco, he wasn't ready for it. He was so, so in love but Draco had drastically changed in the week they had been apart. He had black bags under his eyes, his body buzzed with a tension Harry had never seen before, he snarled like a dog and Harry took a step back from him, although why, he couldn't tell.

"Draco…" Harry whispered, so reverently it was almost a prayer.

"what do you want?" Draco snarled, although it had a hysterical edge to it. "we would all like to know that." Severus said, ready for a fight.

"I, um, well I wanted to kind of ask S-snape something, but I guess you'd know more."

Harry's stomach twisted as he realized that The Corpse and Draco probably knew each other, had probably helped each other, had probably been punished together… might have even been friends.

No one said anything, but Draco was breathing hard, feeling bile rise up inside of him at the mere sight of Potter. Harry wanted to just stare at Draco forever, but something told him his time was fast running out and so he jumped right in.

"who- who was the man, I've just been back to the house and th-there was a man. Well, he was dead, and I've buried him, but-" Harry rambled.

"what?" Draco spat, as if Harry was being a total idiot.

"t-there was a corpse…of a man, in the cellar. I need to get a grave. Who was he?" Harry hated saying it, but loved just being with Draco.

Draco, who let out a high, cold laugh and said; "so you finally murdered him did you? I always knew you would" Harry flinched, shaking with remorse, with desire for the man before him, with the agony of conflicting emotions. But Draco wasn't done yet.

"he was my lover before you stole me. We were engaged, his name was Jason Moore, I loved him and you just adored using him to hurt me. Satisfied?" by the end of his little speech he was screaming, memories threating to swallow him whole. Harry's whole body went pale and rigid, almost like a corpse himself. Draco had been in love. Harry had killed his fiancée. This was the end, until now Harry had hoped that maybe, one day, his love would forgive him, but no. Not after this. There was no going back. He felt the last spark of lightness in his body leave and he just stood, rooted to the spot.

But Draco had more energy, he burst past Harry and into the street.

And then Draco was running, hurting down the pavement as if possessed, he didn't know where he was going, he just had to get away.

He said what he did because Potter deserved to feel terrible, to be in so much pain he couldn't bare it, to scream inside himself every second of every day. He guessed that the version of event he gave Harry would hurt the most, but it wasn't actually true. He had lied.

Lied, lied, lied, lied, lied.

With every footfall the word echoed inside of him. He ran faster but the words sped up too.

He wasn't allowed to lie to master. Bad things happened when he lied to Master. Logically Draco knew this was bull shit, but it was so far engraved in him that the fear soon grew into full-fledged paranoia; like bugs crawling over his skin, it encased him in terror. Every person and sound was now out to get him, sent by master to punish him for lying.

When he just couldn't take it anymore, when he felt a scream threaten to rip through him, he turned back, returning home. Severus said something to him when he burst into the house, but he didn't hear him, his mind was confession. Hastily, he grabbed parchment and quill and wrote to his Master. His hand was shaking so badly he wasn't sure if Harry would be able to read it, but that was Harry's problem, he thought hysterically.

I lied

The corpse wasn't real

You can buy them at fetish stores

You liked them more than real dead bodies because you could charm them into different states; skeleton, freshly dead, zombie, ect. And they never fully decomposed, which was "such great value" As you said at the time.

You liked to animate it and watch it rape me.

Sick fuck.

Draco attached it to the owl with shaking fingers, trying and failing so many times that the owl grew impatient and Severus had to do it for him.

Harry wasn't sure how he got home, he thought Hermione might have taken him, but he didn't really care right now.

He got the letter, but didn't bother reading it, or even looking at it. He just threw it on the table. He didn't think in a million years Draco would write to him, and if it wasnt Draco, Harry didn't want to know.

Back at Severus's home, Draco's voiced resonated though out the house, until now just a primal scream.

"How dare he do this?" Draco's voice boomed, he knew Severus could hear, he wanted him to, wanted everyone to. "He's turned me into a fucking grfyendoor he's made me some sick fuck, I would have him kill me rather than exist as some weird creation of his fucked up mind. I hate him, I hate me, he's STILL INSIDE MY HEAD and I HATE HIM."