Cold

Gods help me, I'm working on a third part to what is rapidly becoming the Nightclub series (yes, they're in the shower. Possibly other places, too.) AND I've got one of the biggest, bestest most wonderfulest (yes, I just said all that XDD) fanfics EVER in the pre-production stages. But I just had to write this. It was like, screaming at me from the back of my mind. I don't think it'll be very long. I also don't think it'll have much of a plot. I just want to get the image out of my head.

EDIT: Dedicated to thrnbrooke for being an awesome reviewer! I love reading things from you! ^___^ Thanks so much for being so dedicated to reviewing! It's really appreciated.
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"Bloody fucking wanker," he muttered angrily. "Fucking can't leave me the fuck alone for five fucking minutes, no he's got to be all up in everything like the entire fucking world revolves around him."

Harry was desperately trying to ignore the fact that Draco had made him look like a complete fool in front of their guests, insulting him and his family worth with about three sentences. The moment they'd slipped out, he paled slightly, and clapped a hand over his lips like he realized the hole he'd just dug himself into, and was currently wishing himself any where but there.

Harry felt himself go cold, icy cold like the howling wind outside. He'd thought Draco cared for him, he'd thought that they could get over their old differences and make something work together, but he'd apparantly thought wrong, and was currently paying for it with the pain of having his heart ripped out of his chest still beating, and torn apart for the delight and amusement of others. He almost imagined he could feel the gaping, bleeding wound if he put his hand where it still ached. It hurt physically to have Draco reject him like that, and it hadn't stopped hurting in the intervening twenty minutes between Draco making an ass out of himself, and Harry packing clothes, ready to leave. He wasn't in any state of mind to be apparating, and he knew it. The Floo had been closed after the party started, to prevent interruptions, which meant that if he wanted to get away he'd actually have to physically walk out of the house, and find a public floo.

Draco had been pressing for weeks for Harry to give up his small flat in muggle London, and Harry was immensely grateful that he hadn't been able to give it up yet. Most of his things were still there, as well, which meant he had less to pack. Finally done, he slammed the lid closed on his bag, and jammed his wand into the small pocket in his cloak, and draped it over his arm. He picked up the bag, and stormed his way out of the room, and down the stairs. Draco was nowhere in sight, and he made his way into the throngs of people gathered, and talking still, probably about him, and through them, not caring who he jostled or stepped on. He was almost to the door when a familiar voice stopped him.

"Where do you think you're going, Potter?" Draco drawled, and Harry felt any good will towards his now ex-boyfriend evaporate. "Put that bag down this instant, and come back here so we can discuss this like civilized adults."

Harry's infamous temper had long since reached it's fraying point, and now that the hurt was giving way to anger again, it exploded. He threw the bag at Draco with such force that it nearly hit him, and only a well-timed dodge prevented any harm. "FUCK YOU, Draco. I'm never coming back here you bloody sodding COW." In the ruckus, he didn't notice as his cloak dropped from his arms, and he was so furious he simply kicked it out of the way and left.

Draco was left standing in his own doorway, looking flabbergasted. "Did he just break up with me...?" he gasped, and eyed the bag as though it were to blame.

"Draco," Blaise said softly, coming up beside him. "You fucked up. Big time."

"You think I don't know that?!" Draco snapped. "I don't know what the fuck I'm supposed to do. Beg his forgiveness? Promise to be a good little death eater?"

"DRACO MALFOY!" Blaise roared at him. "Have you lost your mind?! What has possessed you!? Yesterday you were telling me that you loved him and now you just watch calmly as he walks out of your life?!"

"I'M NOT CALM!!" Draco shouted back. "I've never been so upset in my life! I don't know what I can do to make this better! I know I fucked this up, don't you think I know that?!"

"Act like it, you prick." That being said, Blaise collected his cloak and girlfriend of the week, and left. Draco sank to the floor, and cuddled Harry's cloak near him. The guests filtered out through the opened Floo, and before he knew it, he was alone in the house. Free at last from the confines of society, he felt tears drip down his face. The tears turned into sobs, and the sobs got worse until his entire body was shaking with the force of them.

Shifting, he jumped slightly as something poked into his leg. Moving the cloak, he realized that Harry's wand was still in it. He'd thrown his bag, too, which meant that he was wandless, cloak-less, money-less, and wandering the frozen streets of the city alone, wearing just the teeshirt and jeans he'd left in.

---

It was a long time before Harry even noticed he was cold. By that time, he was already shivering violently, his teeth chattering. His hair was white with the snow, and his skin felt numb. His fingers wouldn't bend, and the only thing that kept him walking was a desire to be as far from Draco Malfoy as humanly possible. He wasn't even walking any more so much as stumbling blindly through the snow. His foot prints were filled as soon as he left them, and he realized that he could barely see five feet in front of him.

God, it's so ... cold...

He tripped over something buried in the snow, and stumbled forward, falling. He landed on his hands and knees, and then even his shivering stopped. He was so tired, of everything. Of walking, of Draco, of fighting, of hurting. Of being cold. He didn't want anything. Just blissful numbness.

Almost as soon as the thought crossed his mind, he regretted it. A life without Draco, no matter how chaotic or painful, would be a good one, filled with as many laughs as tears. He loved Draco, and he never wanted to lose that. Love was his most powerful asset, and if he lost it, he'd never be himself again. He was staggering to his feet, preparing to turn around and find a way back to the Manor when a light from the white nothing blinded him. A few seconds later, he felt something impact with him, and pain became his entire world. He realized half-heartedly that he was no longer in contact with anything solid, and had just enough time to process that before he hit what had to be the ground. Red lights zoomed off, and it filtered through his brain slowly that he'd been hit by a car. He felt warmth again suddenly, and looked at his hand. Red. Sticky, wet red, dripping from his fingers, and he felt weaker with every heartbeat. He could feel his blood emptying out onto the deserted street beneath him, and wished that Draco was there to say goodbye to. He wished that the last thing he'd said hadn't been hateful and nasty, because he didn't feel that way at all.

"Draco... I love you."

There was a loud crack, and some strange noises, and then all he was aware of was the cold.

After the cold came nothing at all.