What It Means

Disclaimer: No, so don’t ask





Disclaimer: No, so
don’t ask.

 

A/N: Thank you again
for the huge response to the last chapter. You know I wouldn’t make you wait
too long…so here is the next one. Be warned…lots o’ angst and the like below.
All in all, I think this is one of my personal favorites…but that could be
because I’m a twisted fuck. (j/k) We still have a few
to go…so be patient…and *trust me*. Please review.

 

Thanks
to Liz and Jasmine for being my two *favorite* chicas
and for reading my story.
*Massive kisses*

 

 

Chapter 11………..Please.
(Yeah, you know that chapter title is all for you, Jasmine. *wink*)

***********************************************

 

Harry, after what
felt like hours of running, finally found Draco’s apartment. Skidding to a halt
outside the door, he raised his hand to knock, but stilled it when he heard
music coming from the other side. The piano. Harry
knew Draco could play, but he had not, to Harry’s knowledge, done so since he
left home. The song was beautiful and strong, but undeniably sad. He sighed
with a bit of relief…at least he knew Draco was inside and in one piece. His
thoughts wandered momentarily. How would Draco react? The truth was, Harry had
no clue what to expect. A part of him worried that
Draco would lash out at him, resentful; as Harry’s coaxing had been a major
factor in his decision to leave home. His logical side, of course, dismissed
this notion; yet still he worried. He knocked and, as he had expected, received
no answer. He knocked harder…again no answer…and the music continued.

 

‘Damn…I’ll have to apparate in…’

 

Harry reached for his
wand and with a pop he found himself standing in what was left of Draco’s home.
The sudden influx of magical energy made him reel for a moment, but left him
otherwise unharmed. He took a quick glance around and noted that the place
would have looked much like Draco himself – beautiful and cold. He n a
a
discarded Christmas tree leaning against the wall and shards of broken glass
littering the floor. To his left he saw the sculpture Michael must’ve been
referring to, busted to pieces by a large hole in the wall. Harry presumed both
occurred by the sculpture being hurled at the once pristine wall. He moved his
gaze to the piano…and to Draco.

 

He was bent over the
keys, pounding into them as though his fingers would break. Sweat dripped from
his brow and his eyes were shut tightly – his expression fierce. It was almost
as if he wanted to create a new world for himself through the notes – like his
fingertips could rewrite history in a wave of anguish and ivory. Harry
tentatively approached him and reached out a shaky hand to place on his
shoulder. The action seemed not to faze him. Calmly, he called his name.

 

“Draco…”

 

“...”

 

He tried again.
“Draco…”

 

“…”

 

Harry took a deep
breath and relocated his hand to lie gently atop Draco’s, stilling its
movement. He found no need for greetings or explanations as he enveloped the
other boy into his arms. As he had expected, Draco did not return the embrace,
but rather, hung limply in his arms. Harry brought a hand up to caress the
platinum hair and cooed into the distraught boy’s ear.

 

“It’s okay…”

 

Draco exploded,
wrenching away from him and slamming a fist onto the piano keys. The dissonance
echoed through the still room. “*Nothing* is okay…”

 

He leapt up from his
seat on the bench and crossed to his bar. Harry followed and watched him
rummage angrily through bottles until he seemed satisfied with a choice. If
Draco was this upset now, Harry hated to think of him after he’d been drinking.


 

“I don’t think you
should drink just now, Draco.”

 

Draco scoffed and
continued to pour his drink.

 

“Really…come on,
we’ll go sit down…just…leave that here, okay?”

 

If Draco heard him,
he didn’t respond, but continued with his task. When his hand slipped and he
managed to spill a good bit of liquor onto the surface of the bar, he let out a
growl and hurled the bottle across the room. Luckily, the glass didn’t break.
Luck, like many things though, was short lived this night. Because when Harry
looked back to Draco, he saw his face contort as he swept his hand across the
counter top, sending everything crashing to the floor. Harry winced at the
sound of so much broken glass. Draco slid to the floor, seemingly unfazed by
the shards that had to have been digging into his skin. When he raised the glass
to his lips, Harry intervened and snatched it away before setting it back onto
the top of the bar. Draco looked up at him with contempt that slowly melded
into an aggrieved sadness. Before he could say anything, Harry bent down and
lifted him to his feet.

 

“Come on…let’s go
into the living room.”

 

Draco sniffled and
nodded, allowing Harry to lead him.

 

When the pair reached
the couch, Harry sat Draco down and took his hand, noting a gash from the
broken glass. Draco seemed impassive to the pain, if there was any. Harry
tried, vainly, to wipe away the blood.

 

“Damn it Draco! You
should be more careful! Where’s your bathroom so I can clean this up?”

 

Draco nodded in the
direction of the bathroom and slumped back when Harry got up from his seat.
After a few moments, he returned with a washcloth and some gauze. He gingerly
took Draco’s wounded hand and checked for any remaining shards of glass that
might be imbedded in the skin. When none were found, he cleaned the gash and
wrapped it up, silently. Out of nowhere, Draco began to speak, albeit very
softly.

 

“I never got to tell
him I was sorry. He…he had to have hated me…”

 

Harry hugged him
again. He held him there a long moment, cooing to him and running his and over
his back, comfortingly. Suddenly Draco pulled away and wiped tears from his
eyes. He stood and headed back towards the kitchen. Frowning, Harry called
after him.

&n

“Draco what…”

 

“Don’t worry…I just
need some water…”

 

Although Harry
believed him, he didn’t want to take any chances; he followed behind him into
the kitchen. As Draco poured himself a glass of water, Harry remembered the
parchment in his pocket. It was the letter Lucius had sent him after Draco had
moved out. He pulled out the note and held it out to Draco.

 

“Here…I…well, I thought
you should see this. It came shortly after you left the flat…”

 

Draco took the
offered paper, curious. He let his eyes scan the words and Harry watched his
face go through a torrent of emotions. First curiosity, then disbelief that
gave way to…almost…hope, before realization and finally…grief.

 

“I wanted to give it
to you earlier…but I didn’t want…I thought you might get hurt…”

 

He watched as Draco
crumpled the note in his hand and cast it aside. Before he could ask any
questions, the paper burst into flames and settled into a pile of ash on the
floor. A split second later, Draco sank down as well with a heartrending cry.
When the light bulb above their heads exploded, Harry instinctively ducked and
covered his head from the glass and sparks that left the two of them in
relative darkness. He knew something had to be done. He himself had only lost
control over his magic once, and that had been when Voldemort had mocked his
parents just before he killed him. He threw himself down beside the hysterical
Slytherin and grabbed him by the shoulders, shaking him lightly.

 

“Draco! Draco, listen
to me! You have got to keep control okay? Listen to my voice…I’m here, I’m
going to take care of you…just calm down.”

 

Slowly, and after
much coaxing, Harry was confident that there would be no more exploding glass.
Still, Draco’s condition hadn’t improved much. At a loss, Harry sat back and
opened his arms.

 

“Come here.”

 

Draco obeyed and
crawled over to him. He let himself relax completely and went limp in Harry’s
arms. However, before long, his fingers gripped to his former lover tightly as
he sobbed into the crook of Harry’s neck.

 

*************************************************************

 

Michael sighed as he
entered his flat. He was drained…physically, emotionally, mentally. He wondered
how Draco was holding up. Sliding down to the floor, he sat there, thinking for
a long, long time. He wanted desperately to run back…to take care of the grief-stricken
blonde himself. But he knew better. It wasn’t his place…it wasn’t his name he
heard Draco cry softly from the other side of the door. That had been the
moment he knew he had lost. He did not love Draco…and yet…all of this was new
to him. Having never been one for melodrama, his usual reaction would have been
to quietly exit such a scene and be on his merry way. Instead, he had found
himself wanting to stay, to help and make everything okay. So he helped the
only way he could…he went to Harry Potter.

 

‘How ironic…’ he thought. ‘The first time I *want* to help…I can’t…’

 

At some point he had
gotten up from the floor and moved to the couch…though he couldn’t remember
when. He vaguely noticed that he was weeping softly. Weeping
for Draco – the boy’s sorrow still fresh in his mind. Somewhere…deep
down…he wept for himself too…although he’d never know it. Tears seemed to be
the only language the pureblood couldn’t understand with natural affluence.

 

“Merry Christmas to
me…” he said somewhat dejectedly.

 

It was then that he
heard his door open. Startled, he jerked his head to the intrusion.

 

“What are you doing
here?” He asked, a little confused.

 

He received a smile
from a familiar face. “I used to live here not so long ago. I didn’t want you
to be alone on Christmas…”

 

Michael forced a
smile for Andrew…his partner for more than a year. To be honest, he wasn’t
really in the mood for company, but the gesture was heartfelt and so he
welcomed it accordingly. He didn’t need to explain to this man who was so
similar to him in many ways. He didn’t need to apologize or sprout delusive
words of a feigned reconciliation. He just needed to nod, take a deep breath
and accept that, for tonight at least, he didn’t have to be alone.

 

**********************************************************

 

Harry didn’t know how
long he held him there, but the sobs lessened in intensity and he leaned his
head back to rest against the wall, taking Draco with him. Suddenly, his eyes
opened wide in shock. Of all the things he expected…a tongue lapping at his
neck was not one of them. Fighting the urge to throw his head back and relent,
Harry forced his brain to work.

 

“D…Draco…I don’t
think…”

 

Taking another lick
at Harry’s neck and tasting the salt of his own tears, Draco’s fingers walked
their way up to Harry’s collar. He brought his lips up to Harry’s ear and
pleaded.

 

“…please…”

 

“But I don’t…”

 

Draco placed his
finger over Harry’s lips and drew back to face him. Harry cursed the moon for
letting in enough light to allow him to see the need on the usually unaffected
face. The look did not suit Draco, but left him flawless and beautiful
nonetheless. Harry felt his resolve crumbling. He didn’t question Draco’s
motives, as he knew from first hand experience that Draco dealt with things in
his own strange way. It was almost if he needed both to be reassured, loved, touched and to forget, to place his mind as far away as
possible. Harry wasn’t so sure this was the best way to handle the current
situation though. He was snapped from his thoughts by a wandering hand on the
inside of his thigh. When he reached his own hand down to move it, Draco took
both of their hands, linked together, and guided them to his own body. He
wrapped them around his waist and shifted his position to straddle across
Harry’s lap. Leaning in, he pressed his perfect face closer and placed kisses
all over Harry’s cheeks and across his nose. Harry tasted the saline drips of
Draco’s tears as they ran down his own face and a few slipped into the crease
of his mouth. When Draco reached Harry’s lips, he ran his hands through his
hair and whispered against his moist skin.

 

“…please…”

 

Harry at last decided
he hadn’t another ounce of tenacity in him and he relaxed. Pulling Draco’s arms
tighter around him, he replied finally.

 

“Not here.”

 

He whispered a minor
levitation spell and stood, keeping Draco wrapped about his waist. When he’d
exited the kitchen, he asked Draco to point out the bedroom and Draco complied,
pointing to an open doorway. Harry’s eyes had already
adjusted to the darkness and he had no trouble getting the two of them into the
room smoothly. Once inside, he laid Draco down, and even in the shadows his
breath caught at the sight of his pale hair and skin contrasting off of the
black of the sheets. He leaned down over him and claimed his lips while he let
his fingers roam and begin their task of removing their clothes, skimming over
pale flesh as he went. With his skin exposed, Harry shivered. The gauze from
Draco’s bandaged hand scraped lightly him him and made him that much more
aware of the warm body underneath him. Harry let his eyes rest briefly on the
growing pile on the floor; the symbolism apparent. They were abandoning so much
more than fabric.

 

When the last piece
of cloth was divested, Harry laid down flush against Draco, both of them
gasping softly at the contact. What happened next, neither could explain, but
both would remember as one of the most remark mom moments of their lives.

 

Harry reached out to
run his hand along Draco’s arm, and Draco gasped…before Harry ever touched him.
The space between them seemed to glow faintly. Closer to Draco the light kept a
blue hue, while next to Harry it remained red and the area between them flushed
purple. The light was subtle…almost imperceptible. They shared a look of mutual
surprise before Draco experimentally ran his hand down Harry’s back, hovering
just above the skin. Harry threw his head back and grd, hd, having never felt
something so intense.

 

Later, he would come
to the conclusion that the heightened emotions of the evening combined with the
volatile magic of two very powerful wizards had caused some sort of reaction.
At the time, however, neither of them had the wit, nor the desire to
contemplate the science of the matter.

 

He immediately kissed Draco deeply,
overwhelmed with sensation. Draco returned the kiss as though his very life
depended on it…maybe it had. Slicing through the dark, the moonlight cast a
soft glow across Draco’s face. His platinum hair was sprawled across the pillow
and his steel eyes pierced into Harry’s own. His pale cheeks were still wet
with tears that left their tracks in soft pink streaks down his otherwise
flawless complexion.

 

“Beautiful” Harry
whispered and ran his hand just above a pale cheek.

 

Draco gasped and bit
his lip, instinctively lifting his hips upwards. This caused Harry to bury his
head into Draco’s neck for a moment, catching his breath. After he had calmed,
a blonde head lifted, catching Harry’s mouth in another kiss as Harry ran his
hands along both of the pale arms until he reached the long fingers that always
knew exactly how to torture him. He intertwined Draco’s hands with his own and
both men sighed softly at the feeling of utter completeness – no questions, no
rules, no titles...no tomorrows.

 

Running a calloused
hand along the fair, lissome torso, Harry kissed Draco’s shoulder before rising
up. His hand journeyed downward to Draco’s hip and along the outside of his
thigh before he lifted gently at the knee and raised it to rest on his
shoulder. Turning his head, Harry could smell Draco’s skin. It was an
intoxicating and faint blend of amber mixed with something Harry couldn’t
define. Nostalgia told him he knew it long before he had ever known the smell
or taste of another man; but even so, the scent now belonged solely to Draco. Running
his nose alone ske skin one more time to bond it to his memories, he placed a
tiny kiss to Draco’s ankle.

 

Draco surrendered
completely, and when Harry took him he continued to cry softly. It was a bit of
a role reversal from their last time, but Harry had played both top and bottom
before and he knew that tonight, Draco needed to be taken, loved…possessed.

 

Afterwards, Harry
curled Draco to him and held him there, whispering softly until he fell asleep.
When he was confident that the Slytherin would not wake suddenly, he slipped
his pants on and returned to the rest of the flat. He surveyed the damage and
shook his head. He could only imagine the pain Draco had to be in. Even through
all of their hardships, the pureblood had remained fiercely devoted to his
father, and desperately wanted his approval. Somewhere, Draco thought that
someday everything would be okay…and now…he knew better.

 

With a sigh Harry
took out his wand and began repairing the damage around him. When he finished
he set up the Christmas tree and replaced the light bulb in the kitchen. He
turned out the lights and padded back into the bedroom where he slipped off his
pants and curled against Draco once more. When they were snugly together, Harry
placed a soft kiss to the shoulder tucked under his chin and hoped his presence
would be enough to chase away any demons that would invade his lover’s sleep.

 

“Merry Christmas,
Draco.”

 

***************************************

TBC

 

Alright pretties,
don’t get your knickers in a twist…it ain’t over yet.
(I *cannot* believe I just said ain’t)

 

There’s more to
come…you didn’t think I’d make it this easy on you, did you? Come on…*points up
to sleeping Draco* he’s got some shit to deal with first.

&nb
N
Next chapter soon, I
promise.

 

Please Review.

 

Love and Kisses,

 

Reika