With Teeth

**There are things I said I would never do

There are fears I cannot believe have come true

For my soul is too sick and it\'s too little and too late

And myself I have grown too weary to hate**





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A curious fact about Draco’s charms: they were meant to be a link between the owners of the two coins; as much as it was a means for communication, it was also a way to feel each other. And as Draco had not known this about the spell he’d used over them, he was equally unaware that the existence of multiple charms spread thin the connection, as if diluting the concentration of a liquid. You could call for each other just as easily, but your emotions were sublimely unknown to each other. And as Draco was unaware of all of this, he was also unaware of the fact that with only one charm left the connection between both halves was exponentially clearer.





**





Draco opened his eyes to the ceiling, holding in a groan. He hadn’t meant to sleep in his office. He really couldn’t think of it as his office any longer. He knew, especially after the previous night, that he’d never be able to work again. Merlin knows he’d tried. He’d given the girl everything he could manage, and in the end that only thing that got him anywhere was thinking of His Harry.



The realization settled uncomfortably in the pit of his stomach. He was so used to being the aloof and unconnected Dominator that there was simply no room for an attachment, let alone one as strong and demanding as the one he felt to the brunette. Somewhere along the way, and he couldn’t quite put his finger on where, something had changed. He went from working with a particularly pleasing client, to depending on said client for some sort of emotional return.



And he honestly couldn’t hate himself for it any longer.



He could, however, hate himself for reacting so rashly to the cuts on Harry’s legs. In truth he couldn’t conceive why he had responded the way he had. Logically, it was a very irrational punishment. As the rule that had been broken was one of vandalism, a consequence relating to the nature of the crime made more sense. The infraction had hurt Draco on a personal level, however; one he hadn’t yet been ready to acknowledge. Dismissal was the only thing keeping Draco in check. Merlin knows the boy didn’t need more violence. He was hurting himself; physical punishment from the blonde would not have been as impactful.



He only wished he knew what had driven the boy to such measures. Not professionally, of course. Such a desire came purely from the want to comfort the boy, hold him and tell him everything was alright. Which up until this frightening episode was not in the definition of their relationship, if you could still consider what they had a relationship.



This painful thought settled thickly and uncomfortably in the pit of his stomach.





**





Harry was still staring at the ceiling, lying on the cold tiled floor. The realization that he could think of the floor as ‘cold’ was worthy of his attention, eliciting a small gasp. All sensation and feeling and emotion that Harry had successfully avoided, by means of a probably very illegal potion, crashed down into his body abruptly from a very tall height. The weight of the impact sent his body curling inward, only to fall back limply against the aforementioned cold floor. He gasped for breath around the squeezing and pounding and aching he felt all over his body. All of these sensations did nothing to compete with the magnificent stab in the center of his chest. It took his breath away, and brought tears to his eyes.



He lay gasping for what seemed like an eternity, unable to move for fear of more intensely painful sensations settling into his limbs, before everything slowly (very slowly) melted away and he felt normal again; aside from the throbbing in his head, and the tremendous pang in his chest. He couldn’t quite figure where the pang came from, or even what it was. The closest he could ascribe to it was ‘remorse’. He almost felt like he’d lost something forever and was convinced that no matter how badly he wanted it back, he’d never get it.



Finally deciding he could live with the peculiar weight, he rolled to his side, slow deep breaths keeping him moving. Each level of height he achieved was rewarded with another shudder of hurt through his body, each settling at the base of his skull bringing tears to his eyes. He would have wondered if he’d ever truly get rid of the torment attacking his body, and a contritious part of him was convinced it was penance for thinking he could just banish all of his problems by taking a potion.



He’d remembered what it felt like. At the time it was absolute glorious bliss. Thinking back on it he felt incredibly foolish, shame burning his cheeks at just the thought of what he looked like. He thanked deities he knew must never exist that no one had had to use the bathroom in the middle of the night.



Certain that as much as he wanted to have the feeling of weightlessness the concoction had given him, he knew he didn’t deserve to have any more of it. The incredible pain to be dealt with at the end was only half enough reason to never try it again. The work of constantly having to remake and retake was another quarter. He simply didn’t feel worthy of the freedom. If he was meant to deal with the pain simply living gave him… … Maybe he would just stop living…



The sudden flash of the idea coursed through his brain, shock dulling the pounding at the nape of his skull. He stared at his pale reflection in the mirror. Examining every pore, every feature, he finally stared hard into his own eyes. The unexpected destination his train of thought took him was almost disconcerting, but only almost. He knew he was so painfully unhappy, and he knew the only thing that had ever given him any level of happiness was His Angel. He knew he’d never get him back, and therefore knew he’d never be happy again. He couldn’t fathom the idea that he’d find someone else. He’d never seen any evidence that someone else existed. Therefore, it was only entirely logical that since he’d never be happy again, there’d be no point in pursuing it. And obviously, what came next?



Taking in his palour once more, he was shocked to recognize how close to death he already looked. Just another tiny push in the right direction, that’s all he needed. Besides, even if he had thought he merited a second chance with the blonde, he was never truly satisfied with their parameters. That was what had forced him to indulge in the first place. Even if he COULD have him back, he’d never truly HAVE him. Harry was one of a hundred. His Angel didn’t care for him the way he wanted to be cared for; the way he cared for him.



There was no way around it.



It all came down to ‘what was the point’.



And there was no point. If he thought Draco would ever want him back after their last episode, he might have decided to walk back down right then and there and beg, plead, demand that Draco look at him. That Draco tell him what he wanted as penance. Instead he just stared at his reflection in wonder. Was he really thinking about this?



Some obscure pounding of a song he’d heard the summer previous rang in the back of his mind as he continued to stare at his reflection. His skin buzzed with a curious sensation. His brain felt fuzzy, but not out of focus. His entire being vibrated with an emotion he couldn’t name. A harsh swallow, and he suddenly felt more than he’d ever remembered feeling. He felt every breath pouring into his lungs, the blood coursing through his veins, his bare feet against the cold tiled floor of the bathroom.



He was really going to do this.





**





Something nibbled insistently at the edges of Draco’s consciousness. He knew it was something important, but he couldn’t place what exactly it was trying to say.



Alone in his own bathroom, towel hung low on his hips and hair dripping, he turned to stare into his own mirror. His gaze flickered over every feature. His muted visage blinked sharply into another, distinctly surprised face. He gasped in shock, taking a step back.



Did he see what he thought he’d seen?



“Harry?”



It was a whisper. He didn’t want to believe it, didn’t want to think he might be going crazy.



He very well may have been.



But the look in His Harry’s face (for he knew it was him); Draco didn’t like the tremor going through his features. Was it something he’d just wanted to see, or was this something more? He knew it couldn’t possibly be all in his head. He didn’t want it to be.



He leaned on the sink well, edging closer to the glass.



“Show me,” he murmured.



The image melted disjointedly from his pale and blonde and pointed, to sallow tan and dark and blunt. He didn’t remember seeing His Harry look this poorly. What bothered him most was the new emotion splashed over the intense green eyes.



Resignation.



There was a touch of wonder and surprise, but overwhelmingly covered by resignation. And this scared the blonde.



“Are you real?”



Again a whisper, but at the sound of his voice the spell seemed broken again, and it melted away once more to show his own frightened face reflecting back at him.



He searched the image waiting for another to blossom, but nothing happened. A nervous sweat broke across his brow adding to the water still condensing on his skin from his shower. Should he wait? Should he go and see him? Should he just ignore it?



What was he going to do?



He wasn’t used to not knowing what to do and he felt sick to his stomach. Usually he was so in control and the loss of everything he knew just twisted. He could feel his breath increasing, and squeezed his eyes shut. The second everything went black a new vision exploded across the wall of his mind.



Harry standing on the astronomy tower. Looking down. Leaning incredibly close to the edge.



Draco wrenched open his eyes and his head spun. He felt like heaving his guts on the floor, and the overwhelming sense of despair shocked him to the core.



He stumbled backwards falling against the wall, still in view of the reflecting glass. Sliding toward the tiles, he fought against the desolation engulfing him. It was hard to breath, and he shuddered at the hint of anticipation flittering at his edges. He didn’t understand it. He felt helpless and all he wanted was his His Angel and he didn’t think he’d ever have him back and…



Wait…





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**As far as I have gone

I knew what side I\'m on

But now I\'m not so sure

The line begins to blur**