Bleed Me An Ocean
folder
Harry Potter › Slash - Male/Male › Harry/Draco
Rating:
Adult ++
Chapters:
32
Views:
25,227
Reviews:
334
Recommended:
0
Currently Reading:
0
Category:
Harry Potter › Slash - Male/Male › Harry/Draco
Rating:
Adult ++
Chapters:
32
Views:
25,227
Reviews:
334
Recommended:
0
Currently Reading:
0
Disclaimer:
I do not own Harry Potter, nor any of the characters from the books or movies. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.
Phantom Green
A/N: The title of this chapter is the name of the song that is used in it.
Disclaimer: The lyrics quoted herein are the sole property of Dax Riggs, I do not own them, nor do I want to. (For HP related disclaimer see Chapter One)
Draco barreled haphazardly through twisting corridors and down steep flights of stairs, trying to shake the thoughts from his head. That kiss, I know that kiss, he thought, groping for the memory associated with it. He couldn't come up with anything in his current state, but the knowledge that he did know it taunted him. It would slip almost to the front of his mind then scurry back into the shadows of recollection.
"Fuckfuckfuckfuck," he spat, coming to a panting halt outside of the Slytherin dormitory. How had he ended up back here? It was certainly the last place he wanted to be after that night's happenings. His stomach clenched at the mere idea of sleeping in his bed.
Setting off again he soon came to the bathroom that served the dungeons. It wasn't used often and maybe, he thought, he would be safe there for the night. Opening the door as quietly as he could he stumbled into the dimly lit room. He walked over to the row of three sinks and stood in front of the second one, staring into the water stained bowl.
Glancing up into one of the mirrors, he stared apathetically at the caked blood on his face. He noticed how it coated his chin and the underside of his neck. It had run in rivulets down to the collar of his shirt, staining the dark cloth even darker. Raising his also bloody right hand, he tentatively touched his cheek, feeling the grit of the flaking blood beneath his fingertips. Pausing to look at them as well, he smiled wanly at the clean tips. Those lips . . .,he thought, recalling the cool, gentle touch of them on his blood-wet digits.
There had been something so familiar and comforting in that phantom touch. Something about it had spoke of home and being alive again, those ghostly hands had seemed to promise him everything. They had touched him like they adored him, like they cared. And that kiss, that soft, burning kiss on his hip. Draco shook himself from his daydreams, surprised to find himself gently caressing the spot on his hip where the ghostly lips had pressed their silent farewell.
Gods I'm stupid! It was a fucking GHOST, not some dream lover come to take me away from my troubles! It wasn't real, it didn't mean anything. It doesn't matter. It wasn't Harry, he railed at himself in his head, heart dropping with regret that it hadn't been Harry. Snorting, disgusted with himself, he looked in the mirror again. He needed to clean himself up, but he didn't really feel like it. Something about the dried blood obscured his features, it hid him from himself and he liked that. "Where did I go?," he whispered in a singsong voice with a mad edge to it that shook a little bit. It sounded hoarse and lonely the way it wavered in the still air of the bathroom.
His eyes, though, they were the same platinum grey as always. He had come to despise that haunted, hollow stare, but that's what it was and had been for as long as he could remember. He'd managed to keep that hidden for years as well behind his inscrutable mask, but he was crumbling and didn't have the energy or inclination to wear masks anymore. A swig from his whiskey bottle made his head spin and he grinned, embracing the cold numbness in his head.
Vision doubling slightly, Draco pulled up his right sleeve and looked appraisingly at the new cuts, the deep crevices of the wounds filled with drying blood that looked almost black in the light. The lighter, rust colored streaks all over his lower arm where his sleeve had smeared it added a nice contrast he thought. Experimentally, he poked a finger into the deepest of the nine wounds. Digging the tip of his finger into the inflamed flesh, he hissed as the pain burst up his arm and into his booze-clouded head. I haven't had nearly enough to drink, he mused, but glad that he could still feel something. Anything.
Watching as the blood welled anew in the cut, he slid his finger through the sticky wetness and brought it to his lips, sucking greedily. The warm taste of salt and iron filled his mouth, mixing with the flavor of the liquor and it was divine. It was Heaven and Hell and everything he was and never would be. It was alive.
He fantasized as he guzzled more whiskey, his vision doubling in earnest then. Harry was with him, kissing his scars and telling him he was beautiful, that he wasn't a scarred monstrosity like he thought. The touch was so kind and compassionate that Draco wanted, more than anything, to believe him. His slightly roughened fingers traced the long vertical scars on his thighs, only to rise higher and caress the shorter diagonal scars on his ribcage.
His heart broke at what he thought the reality would be. Harry would never think him beautiful or worth loving. How could someone love a monster like me?, Draco thought with self contempt, slipping further into his depression as he fastened his mouth to the cut and sucked viciously, letting the essence of himself flood his system. He let himself go in the haze of booze and the ache in his cut arm and bruised body. It was a dull throb all over, it seemed to hum and have a power he could never do without. Pain didn't hurt anymore.
Pulling his mouth away from the gash, he pulled out his Walkman, placing the headphones on his head while simultaneously pressing play. An impressive feat for a drunk, he thought idly as he staggered his way into the toilet stall farthest from the door and flipped the lock. Bracing his back on the wall, a trick he had learned a long time ago to avoid falling while trying to sit when drunk as skunk, he slid slowly down to the floor. Losing his balance about halfway he slid rapidly and plunked onto the tile. Oops, he thought sarcastically, then pulled his knees to his chest and began to sing softly to himself:
Just another cold millenium in another dry age
Just another cold millenium in another dry age
The vanishing man has madness to sow,
There are secrets he knows that have never been told
I was sleepin' with the insects, dreamin' of the ocean
Oh my lord the Devil is just out of frame
My, my, my, the Devil is just out of frame
Yeah . . .
Such a cold dementia, this slow burn in my head
Phantom green is the color of the sky,
It's the color I see when I close my eyes
His eyes drifted shut, the long golden lashes resting on his filthy cheeks. He slipped into a colorful void, a void where phantom green really was all he could see. It swirled around him, pulling him deeper into sleep and he could hear Harry's voice softly speaking to him; comforting him. He sighed wistfully in his sleep as a soft kiss was placed on his hip, it may've only been a dream, but it was all he could hope for.
A/N: Rather short, but I think it turned out quite ok. Sorry I didn't update last night, there was a bad storm here and it knocked out my power. Grrrr. Hope you guys like it, please review. And thanks once more to all of you, you're too awesome.
Disclaimer: The lyrics quoted herein are the sole property of Dax Riggs, I do not own them, nor do I want to. (For HP related disclaimer see Chapter One)
Draco barreled haphazardly through twisting corridors and down steep flights of stairs, trying to shake the thoughts from his head. That kiss, I know that kiss, he thought, groping for the memory associated with it. He couldn't come up with anything in his current state, but the knowledge that he did know it taunted him. It would slip almost to the front of his mind then scurry back into the shadows of recollection.
"Fuckfuckfuckfuck," he spat, coming to a panting halt outside of the Slytherin dormitory. How had he ended up back here? It was certainly the last place he wanted to be after that night's happenings. His stomach clenched at the mere idea of sleeping in his bed.
Setting off again he soon came to the bathroom that served the dungeons. It wasn't used often and maybe, he thought, he would be safe there for the night. Opening the door as quietly as he could he stumbled into the dimly lit room. He walked over to the row of three sinks and stood in front of the second one, staring into the water stained bowl.
Glancing up into one of the mirrors, he stared apathetically at the caked blood on his face. He noticed how it coated his chin and the underside of his neck. It had run in rivulets down to the collar of his shirt, staining the dark cloth even darker. Raising his also bloody right hand, he tentatively touched his cheek, feeling the grit of the flaking blood beneath his fingertips. Pausing to look at them as well, he smiled wanly at the clean tips. Those lips . . .,he thought, recalling the cool, gentle touch of them on his blood-wet digits.
There had been something so familiar and comforting in that phantom touch. Something about it had spoke of home and being alive again, those ghostly hands had seemed to promise him everything. They had touched him like they adored him, like they cared. And that kiss, that soft, burning kiss on his hip. Draco shook himself from his daydreams, surprised to find himself gently caressing the spot on his hip where the ghostly lips had pressed their silent farewell.
Gods I'm stupid! It was a fucking GHOST, not some dream lover come to take me away from my troubles! It wasn't real, it didn't mean anything. It doesn't matter. It wasn't Harry, he railed at himself in his head, heart dropping with regret that it hadn't been Harry. Snorting, disgusted with himself, he looked in the mirror again. He needed to clean himself up, but he didn't really feel like it. Something about the dried blood obscured his features, it hid him from himself and he liked that. "Where did I go?," he whispered in a singsong voice with a mad edge to it that shook a little bit. It sounded hoarse and lonely the way it wavered in the still air of the bathroom.
His eyes, though, they were the same platinum grey as always. He had come to despise that haunted, hollow stare, but that's what it was and had been for as long as he could remember. He'd managed to keep that hidden for years as well behind his inscrutable mask, but he was crumbling and didn't have the energy or inclination to wear masks anymore. A swig from his whiskey bottle made his head spin and he grinned, embracing the cold numbness in his head.
Vision doubling slightly, Draco pulled up his right sleeve and looked appraisingly at the new cuts, the deep crevices of the wounds filled with drying blood that looked almost black in the light. The lighter, rust colored streaks all over his lower arm where his sleeve had smeared it added a nice contrast he thought. Experimentally, he poked a finger into the deepest of the nine wounds. Digging the tip of his finger into the inflamed flesh, he hissed as the pain burst up his arm and into his booze-clouded head. I haven't had nearly enough to drink, he mused, but glad that he could still feel something. Anything.
Watching as the blood welled anew in the cut, he slid his finger through the sticky wetness and brought it to his lips, sucking greedily. The warm taste of salt and iron filled his mouth, mixing with the flavor of the liquor and it was divine. It was Heaven and Hell and everything he was and never would be. It was alive.
He fantasized as he guzzled more whiskey, his vision doubling in earnest then. Harry was with him, kissing his scars and telling him he was beautiful, that he wasn't a scarred monstrosity like he thought. The touch was so kind and compassionate that Draco wanted, more than anything, to believe him. His slightly roughened fingers traced the long vertical scars on his thighs, only to rise higher and caress the shorter diagonal scars on his ribcage.
His heart broke at what he thought the reality would be. Harry would never think him beautiful or worth loving. How could someone love a monster like me?, Draco thought with self contempt, slipping further into his depression as he fastened his mouth to the cut and sucked viciously, letting the essence of himself flood his system. He let himself go in the haze of booze and the ache in his cut arm and bruised body. It was a dull throb all over, it seemed to hum and have a power he could never do without. Pain didn't hurt anymore.
Pulling his mouth away from the gash, he pulled out his Walkman, placing the headphones on his head while simultaneously pressing play. An impressive feat for a drunk, he thought idly as he staggered his way into the toilet stall farthest from the door and flipped the lock. Bracing his back on the wall, a trick he had learned a long time ago to avoid falling while trying to sit when drunk as skunk, he slid slowly down to the floor. Losing his balance about halfway he slid rapidly and plunked onto the tile. Oops, he thought sarcastically, then pulled his knees to his chest and began to sing softly to himself:
Just another cold millenium in another dry age
Just another cold millenium in another dry age
The vanishing man has madness to sow,
There are secrets he knows that have never been told
I was sleepin' with the insects, dreamin' of the ocean
Oh my lord the Devil is just out of frame
My, my, my, the Devil is just out of frame
Yeah . . .
Such a cold dementia, this slow burn in my head
Phantom green is the color of the sky,
It's the color I see when I close my eyes
His eyes drifted shut, the long golden lashes resting on his filthy cheeks. He slipped into a colorful void, a void where phantom green really was all he could see. It swirled around him, pulling him deeper into sleep and he could hear Harry's voice softly speaking to him; comforting him. He sighed wistfully in his sleep as a soft kiss was placed on his hip, it may've only been a dream, but it was all he could hope for.
A/N: Rather short, but I think it turned out quite ok. Sorry I didn't update last night, there was a bad storm here and it knocked out my power. Grrrr. Hope you guys like it, please review. And thanks once more to all of you, you're too awesome.