Non Time, O Parve Mage

Draco had not seen his father for months, and despite his distance in both time and space from the roving eyes of Lord Voldemort, he felt sick to himself constantly. But still, he refused to hurt himself on their account.
Despite Draco’s resolve, Harry had taken great care in hiding all “sharp-pointy-things” from Draco. He had Draco’s knife stowed away safely in his trunk. Though Draco was not speaking to him, or acknowledging his presence in the least, Harry still felt obligated to protect Draco from himself. He knew what had happened at the manor, and that he blamed Harry for losing his mother and both of his fathers. Harry had gone through amazing lengths to protect Draco, and still, Draco pretended as though he did not notice, let alone care.
Meanwhile, Hermione was going insane from watching Harry watching Draco who pointedly watched anything but Harry. She still believed that Harry’s connection to Draco was only Voldemort’s connection to Draco, despite his huge progress with his occlumency. It killed her to watch her best friend in such pain, merely because he was a good person trying to protect someone as best he could—especially since that person was Draco Malfoy.
But still, he did not cut.
Lucius had been sending Draco letters practically everyday from god-only-knows where. Every letter was an ornate apology for something that was not his fault—or so Draco thought. Filled with, “You are my son, and I will always love you”s, “I am so proud of you”s, and I am always here for you”s, they positively reeked with paternal warmth; though, he knew he did not really mean it. He knew that his father blamed him for his multiple rendezvous with the Dark Lord.
But still, he did not cut.
~*~
Hogwarts filled with delightful scents of warm pine and holly, as the age-old halls greeted the Yule tide. Cinnamon and ginger wafted throughout the great hall as dozens of elves prepared for the oncoming Christmas feast.
Draco Malfoy stood before his dorm closet, folding his clothes that had been brought to the infirmary back into their rightful place. He had spent the last ten weeks under constant surveillance, and was thankful to be able to sleep in his own bed. As he filed absentmindedly through the various items in his closet, his wandering hand stopped dead as it reached a length of torn silver silk.
***
“It has been too long, my dragon prince…”
***
Draco gasped painfully as he involuntarily clutched his hand to the large scar on his chest. He winced in pain as he continued to hyperventilate. Out of the corner of his eye, he briefly glimpsed Harry’s trunk, then, turned away in self-disgust just as quickly. He let the pine graze his back as he slid dejectedly against the closet door and onto the floor. “I won’t…” he mumbled to himself as he closed his eyes resolutely, “I won’t let him do that to me…not again…”
Draco could not take a shower without feeling his touch.
But still, he did not cut.
He couldn’t eat without feeling his slithering tongue in his mouth.
But still, he did not cut.
He could not even close his eyes for fear that when he opened them, he would be there…waiting.
But still, he did not cut.
Voldemort was everywhere inside Draco; within his very veins—floating in his blood. He needed rid of him before he went insane or starved to death. Draco ran doggedly to Harry’s trunk, broke the sealing charm, and began tossing various items carelessly aside. He tore through his personal items, flustered, until he reached what he was looking for. He held the blade carefully in his hands and licked his dried lips. He walked gravely toward his bed, sat down, and began dragging the silver knife with lace-like delicacy over his porcelain skin.
He bit his lip as the knife ran deeper and deeper into his flesh, freeing him; for a moment, from Voldemort’s grasp. He was so immersed in the enticement that he did not even here Harry burst through the door angrily, and slam it shut behind him.
Harry ran over to him, wrenched the blade away and slapped him, hard, across the face. He stared angrily down at Draco and his bleeding arms.
“So this is how you cope?” he yelled angrily at Draco who remained frozen. Harry kicked his trunk across the room in rage. “This is how you deal with the pain! Does it help? HUH?” his eyes were blazing in seething pain. Draco stood to face him, but he was only pushed back onto the floor by an erratic burst of energy. Harry gave a last disgusted look at Draco, before he dragged the blade, deep, into his wrists; one at a time. As the blood ran down is arms, forming puddles on the floor, he turned back to Draco; “How does it feel, Draco?” he began as he knelt down beside him, “How does it feel to see me doing this to myself?” he demanded furiously. Draco bit his lip and looked up at him with pastel eyes. “It…it hurts…”
Harry nodded. “Now you know how I felt when I first saw your scars, Draco. Bites like a bitch, doesn’t it.” Harry turned and threw the knife out the window. He grabbed a towel from the floor, and began cleaning Draco’s arms gently. “I know you have no reason to trust me,” he began more calmly, “or even like me—or I you, for that matter.” He sighed and turned to Draco sincerely. “When I saw you so hurt—so vulnerable, I just wanted to hold you—keep you safe.” He began healing their wounds with his wand. “for a while I let myself believe that it was because of Voldemort’s and mine’s connection that I felt so attracted to you—that I wanted to spend time with you. But I realized, when I visited you in the hospital wing, and you blamed me for your parents’ deaths—“
“Harry, I—“
“Let me finish. That really hurt me, Draco. It hurt—a lot to think that you were upset with me. Then I realized Voldemort sure as hell wouldn’t care, that it wasn’t lust but something else—something bigger. Then, I remembered that morning on the rock, and when you smiled at me, and made me feel like I was worthwhile…that it wasn’t mine and Voldemort’s connection that attracted me to you, but our own connection.” He sat back across from Draco and took his hands in his.
“Ever since we’ve met, we’ve always been drawn to each other. We were always going out of our ways to fight one another. We were always there for each other in the worst ways. We were like best friends…only best enemies. It’s not the most functional of relationships…but it’s strong. You held a grudge against me for five years, Draco—now that takes dedication.
“Someone once told me, that hate is very powerful—but love can move mountains. I believe that—I lived it. Draco—I know that it is hard for you to control this evil that is within you—I know you feel him in your blood—I do too. But…I think together we can overcome this. I know you feel alone, but I understand you. Don’t bleed onto yourself—bleed into me; let me carry your sin; let me love you.”
Draco swallowed and looked up to Harry’s warm emerald eyes. He felt a tear begin to run down his face, and then a gentle hand brush it away. He noticed hazily that Harry was no longer wearing glasses, and that he in fact hadn’t for two months now. Draco turned his head to look anywhere but at the young man across from him. He vaguely discerned someone with flame-red hair bow their head and shut the door.
Bring me your nightmares,
Show me your fears,
I don’t care if they kill me,
I’m already dead
“Harry…if you’re asking for a relationship—“
“I am.”
“I…I can’t give that to you.” He turned toward Harry and stood dejectedly. “I’m sorry—but I can’t love you.”
Harry bit his lip and looked up at Draco who was already headed toward the door. He moved t get up, but Draco stopped him with a wave of his hand. “Don’t, Harry.”
Harry closed his eyes in a futile effort to keep a single, pearly drop from rolling down his cheek. “I—I thought…. Why?” he whispered. Draco bit his lip as he was being torn apart inside.
“Because I can’t trust that you don’t just want me for my body—that you won’t hurt me—I can’t trust anyone…not anymore. I’m sorry.” Draco bowed his head and walked with resolve out of the dorm, leaving a confused and hurt Harry on the floor.
He walked swiftly through the maze of chairs and students. Blaise called out to him in concern, but he soldiered on to the exit. Draco threw himself against the door, and slithered past the large stone gargoyle that guarded the entrance to the once-Slytherin dorms. He faintly heard the pounding of running feet behind him—Blaise. Pretending not to have noticed, Draco made a quick u-turn into an abandoned classroom. He ran to the end of the room, and pushed open the secret passage concealed behind the blackboard—the same one that was installed in every class room when Voldemort returned. As he ran down the labyrinthine tunnel, he distinctly heard Blaise punch a wall in frustration.
Draco’s hair fell limply over his eyes in the heavy humidity. As he moved a hand to push the silver threads away from his eyes, he noticed that he was crying copiously. He wrenched hi hair in his fists fiercely to stop himself, but it was no use. He began shaking uncontrollably and fell with a splash to the ground. His loud cries echoed throughout the tunnel. For the first time in his life…he let himself go, and just cried.
Draco threw his head back and screamed Harry’s name. Out pure despair and weakness, his head fell to his knees and he continued to sob.
When his head began to pound, he glanced at his watch, still sniffling, to find that he had been down there, sobbing hysterically, for over an hour. Draco sighed and reclined his head against the damp stone wall. He stretched out his long legs and moistened his lips. “When will you just kill me, Harry?” he whispered to himself.
Draco groaned softly as he pushed himself off the ground with the assistance of a crag in the wall behind him. He brushed off his robes and muttered a drying charm under his breath. He walked toward the familiar landmark gap of the tunnel and tapped it with his wand. It opened up to an empty charms classroom. He gingerly pulled himself out of the tunnel, and fell into a nearby chair. He let his silver head fall into his hands as he continued to sob softly.
As he absentmindedly drew circles with his finger, he heard the hustle of students headed to dinner. He waited for the crowd to pass before he left the room. If he did not show up for dinner, Madame Pomfrey would throw a hissy-fit.
The sound of one hundred conversations washed over him when he pushed open the doors to the great hall. Several people looked at him, then quickly turned to their fellows to begin whispering surreptitiously. Draco bit his lip and pulled his robes more tightly around him. Blaise waved pointedly at an empty chair beside him. Draco was thankful that he, in fact, was sitting amidst several empty seats. As he pulled out his chair, he saw that Harry was not sitting at his usual place, but next to Weasley and Granger at the “four” table. Harry was absentmindedly prodding at his potatoes with his fork, not eating anything, as Weasley patted his back knowingly. Hermione was cooing soft words of comfort in his ear. As she felt Draco’s eyes on her, she looked up, her face completely void of any recognizable emotion. Draco quickly turned away, and took his seat next to Blaise. Immediately, he was accosted by nagging questions.
“How are you feeling—you don’t want to go to the infirmary or anything?”
Draco sighed and stared at his empty plate. “I just spent next to two months there—I do not want to drop by for a visit any time soon, thank you.”
“I see,” he muttered as he turned to his pumpkin juice. “What’s wrong with Harry, do you know? He looks like he just found out that the turkey surprise we ate last week was actually his owl.”
Again, Draco sighed. “He’s not to happy with me at the moment.”
“What, did you dump him?” he asked as-a-matter-of-factly.
Draco dropped his fork with a clang and turned sharply to Blaise. “What do you mean? We were never together! He—I—no: Just… no.”
“I see.”
“We weren’t, and we aren’t.”
“So is that why he’s upset…?”
Draco bit his lip in effort to keep from screaming. “I don’t know, Blaise. I’m going to work on my homework—I have a lot to make up.” He said through gritted teeth. He pushed his chair back and rose from the table. He strode out of the hall and faintly heard Blaise call out to him: “But you haven’t eaten in forever!” as he left the hall. Again, he felt the eyes of one hundred people on the back of his neck. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw a tall person with flaming red hair follow him.
Before he could make it to the center of the hall, a firm hand whirled him around and slammed him up against the wall*** scarlet eyes were glaring hungrily at him. “It has been too long, my dragon prince…” he gently removed his mask and flung it onto the floor. He smiled wickedly, and pressed his face into his hair, breathing him in***
“What did you do?” Weasley demanded as he tightened his grip on his robes. “I know you had something to do with it! What did you do to Harry?” He threw him onto the ground*** Draco cried out in pain as he was thrown forcedly to the floor by Voldemort. “You slut,” he spat at him. Draco looked up at him, tears now flowing freely from hi eyes, “no—please, I swear I never—“Voldemort kicked him in the ribs, and he doubled up in pain. Voldemort stood above him, a leg on each side of Draco’s pitiful form.***
Weasley pulled out his wand and pointed it steadily at Draco’s chest. “I swear, Malfoy, I’ll do it.”*** He shook his head as he pulled out his wand. “This was your doing, Draco,” he sighed. He pointed his wand at the limp boy beneath him, and said, “CRUCIO”***
“NO!” Draco screamed as he pulled out his own wand and lashed it at Voldemort. He began breathing heavily as he pushed himself from the ground. He was just about to throw another hex at the Dark Lord when he realized hat it was, in fact, Ronald Weasley that was lying, bleeding, on the floor. Weasley raised his head to look at Draco, his eyes full of hate and fear. He raised his hand to his nose to stop the bleeding. The doors to the great hall slammed open and Dumbledore, McGonagall, Lupin, and Several students ran stood aghast in the hall.
“I…I—“ Draco muttered underneath his breath as Lupin put a consoling hand on his shoulder. “I thought he was—“
“It’s alright, Draco, you don’t have to explain anything. We understand—“
“NO!” He yelled at him, and quickly shrugged away from his touch. “You. Do. Not. Understand!” Draco turned from the throng and ran out the doors to the grounds of Hogwarts.