Bleed Me An Ocean

Warmth. He was surrounded by the most incredible feeling of warmth he had ever experienced and he snuggled deeper into it, attempting to fall back asleep. When he felt gentle fingers softly running through his hair, however, he sat bolt upright and froze when he looked next to him and his grey eyes locked with surprised and confused green ones. His wide eyes trailed down Harry’s tanned, muscular form and caught on the smears of crimson on his skin. Looking back to his own body and noting the origin of the blood, the events of the previous night washed over him and he was set on edge.

It was all real! It hadn’t been a dream and now he was waking up in Harry’s arms. He was aroused and ashamed all at once, completely at a loss on what to do. Draco badly wanted to lay back down and drown himself in this moment with the love of his life; yet, part of him was so very mortified that Harry had seen him in such a way. He had seen the scars and the blood; he had heard his drunken ramblings and had been privy to his near breakdown. He shuddered. Looking back towards Harry, prepared to see disgust at the least, he was startled when those brilliant emerald orbs only shone with love and confusion.

It became painfully obvious to Draco then that Harry didn’t seem to care about any of that and he became flustered and confused. Why? Why did Harry do what he did? Why wasn’t he disgusted with him? He opened his mouth in an attempt to voice his questions, but Harry tugged on him and forced him back down into his embrace, effectively making him lose his train of thought.

He couldn't contain himself for long however and it made him absolutely furious with himself. Was he so hell bent on fucking up the one good thing that had happened to him a long time that he couldn't just accept things? He was self destructive and he knew that. He simply couldn't understand what Harry saw in him. All he wanted to do was lay in those arms forever, his heart screamed for it, but his treacherous mind wouldn't allow it. He nuzzled Harry's neck softly before whispering his question.

Pulling his head back, eyebrows quirked in amused shock, Harry began to speak in a rush, the torrent of words spilling from his mouth with no thought, "Why? Why, Draco? I really don't know, if you want the truth. It started when I saw you on the loading platform that day. It was the look in your eyes. It just escalated from there. I started to care about you, much to my surprise, yes. But what surprised me even more was the fact that the realization didn't bother me. At all. I just wanted you to be mine, seeing you the way I have here lately, really seeing YOU woke something up in me. Hell, maybe I have cared about you for much longer and just wasn't aware of it. I am now and I want you to stay with me, always."

"You can't possibly mean that . . .," Draco trailed off, eyes downcast.

"I damn well CAN mean it and I do, you stubborn prat!," Harry snapped angrily. Why is he doing this?, Harry thought furiously, I know he wants to be with me just as much, if not more, than I want to be with him.

Shrinking a bit from Harry's sudden outburst, Draco licked his lips and plowed on,"I am an . . . emotional nightmare. You must know that. I can't see where I could be any good for you. How can I make you happy when all I know is sadness?"

"Are you sad being with me right now?," Harry asked, trying to hide the hurt in his voice and failing.

"I am always sad, Harry, but being with you . . . no . . . I'm not. It's there, the sadness is a part of me now, I think it may always be. But you, you make me think I can be saved, that I'm not such a lost cause. When I'm with you I don't feel so damned bad," Draco spoke softly, forcing himself to stare into Harry's eyes.

"So why are you fighting this? Seems to me it's what we both want," Harry questioned, puzzlement lining his face.

"Because I am afraid, Harry, so very afraid. I keep thinking I will wake up and this will all have been some kind of wonderful dream. And what if we DON'T stay together? Hmm? I am scared to lose you, I don't think I could survive it. I am scared to have you know how much I love you - yes, I am in love with you - it would give you so much power over me and myself is all I really have left," he finished hoarsely.

"You have me, if you'll take me," Harry whispered, stroking the pale shoulder that peeked from beneath the blanket that Draco had wormed his way under.

Platinum grey eyes searched his own emerald ones, looking for something. Seeing the sincerity he was seeking, Draco asked, "Do you mean it? Do you really want all of. . . this?," he spoke, gesturing at his blanket-covered body, but meaning the scars and wounds on it, and inside of it.

"Yes, Draco, I do," Harry whispered, stroking his thumb over one perfectly arched, blonde eyebrow.

With a heavy sigh that bordered somewhere between relief and reluctance, Draco spoke haltingly,"Then . . . then . . . I'm yours."

Harry finally expelled the breath he had been holding and gathered the taller, thinner boy up in his arms and molded the pale form against his. He had longed to hold Draco like this for so very long now and he wasn’t about to let him go. He knew they had rough times up and coming, but lying in the early morning hush in the Room of Requirement, holding Draco to his chest, he felt okay with that. “Good to know. Not that I would’ve given up so easily in the first place.” He spoke softly into blonde hair, a smile splitting his face from one ear to the other. His smile grew even more brilliant when pale arms wrapped around him and snuggled close.

Draco wasn't sure how long they had laid there together and although he was content and felt somewhat happy in the circle of Harry's arms, he could feel the stirrings of his desire for a drink beginning. Harry was dozing peacefully next to him; his arms still wrapped around him, though their grip had loosened somewhat as he slept. Just the thought of a drink was enough to make Draco's mouth begin to water. He wanted to stay in bed with Harry, yet he wanted his whiskey just as badly.

Carefully disentangling himself from Harry's embrace, he looked closely at the sleeping Gryffindor before gently climbing over his slumbering frame. His bare feet hitting the cold stone floor was a shock to his warm body and he moved quickly to where his bottle sat, ever patient and waiting. A quick glance over his shoulder showed him that Harry was still laying on his back, dreaming away. Why am I sneaking around so? He knows I drink. Fucking paranoia, Draco thought, shaking his head and forcing himself to stop tiptoeing around the room.

He'd barely taken his first swallow when he heard, "How can you drink that shit?"

Jerking in surprise, Draco turned to find Harry staring at him, lying on his side. His stomach fluttered at the sight. Harry's hair fell across his forehead in a disarrayed fan, hiding his left eye, making the visible one seem all that much more brilliant.

Collecting himself with a great deal of effort, Draco took another defiant swig from the bottle before answering. He realized his behavior was bordering on childish, but he couldn't waver where his liquor was concerned; he felt just as protective of it as Harry felt about him.

"I open my mouth and fucking swallow it, that's how. It gets easier with time," was Draco's terse reply.

"It tastes awful," Harry said, quickly detailing the night in the dungeon bathroom where he'd finished Draco's bottle in some misguided attempt to hide his secret.

His eyes dancing with otherwise concealed amusement, Draco responded with, "Well, I guess it's an acquired taste then," before taking another sip.

Noting that Harry's face didn't crumble in distaste, Draco dropped his act and asked, "Does it bother you?"

"No, not really. Yeah, I wish you wouldn't drink so much, I wish it with all my heart. But I know I can't expect you to make a total turn around and besides, I am sure you have your reasons for what you do. Which leads me to the next question: Why do you do it?"

"It's like . . . it's like medication to me. The alcohol drowns out all the awful things in my head, the screaming thoughts that I swear aren't me, don't feel like me. It, well, it makes it quiet in here," Draco finished, tapping his head with a pale finger.

Harry regarded him closely. He knew that Draco would only answer what questions he chose to and even then, would only answer them at his own pace. He was well aware that badgering and nagging would get him nowhere in his quest to unravel the mystery that was his pale haired lover. So, he bit back the million other questions in mind and settled for the two that were most prevalent. “Draco, is it really all that bad? How long has this been happening?”

Draco chose not to acknowledge the questions, instead he decided to ask one of his own, "How is it that you've been able to follow me without my knowing it?"

Harry grinned at the question, he'd been wondering when Draco would get around to asking him. Rising from the bed he padded over to the door and felt around until he found his cloak where it hung from the jamb. With a sharp tug that mercifully wasn't greeted by the sound of tearing cloth, he yanked his trapped garment free.

"This is how," he stated, dangling the invisible cloth in front of Draco. At the puzzled look on the other boy's face, his smile broadened mischieviously and he slipped the cloak on, effectively disappearing from Draco's sight.

Draco blinked stupidly, still staring at the spot where Harry had just been, only to jump in surprise as cool arms wrapped around his waist and Harry's face suddenly floated into view just an inch or so from Draco's.

"Invisibility cloak," Harry laughed.

"So I see . . . or don't . . . whichever," Draco said, his heart rate slowing back to normal and he allowed himself a small grin at Harry's antics.

Kissing him softly, Harry dropped the cloak and stepped back a bit, looking at Draco appraisingly. His eyes lingering on every inch of his thin body, finally settling on the bottle clenched tightly in his pale fingers.

Harry’s arm snaked out and his hand wrapped gently around the unoccupied wrist to tug Draco forward. Smirking slightly, he spoke, “Why don’t you and your…friend…come back to bed with me?”

Wondering slightly at the strong influence Harry had over him already, Draco allowed himself to be led back to the bed, bottle still clutched tightly in his hand. As he settled down next to the only person to have ever seen him at his worst, he said a silent ‘thank you’ in his mind that Harry was at least understanding of his drinking, even if he didn’t accept it. When they were both curled back in the soft covers of the bed, Harry took a deep breath before asking his next question. He wasn't sure how well it would go over, hell, he wasn't even sure if he should ask. But he felt he needed to know, he wanted to try and understand. Bracing himself for a possible blow up from Draco, he plunged ahead.

"Draco, why do you cut yourself?," he asked as he lightly traced a scar on the blonde's thigh.

"Because nothing hurts like empty," was Draco's vague reply, his voice flat and distant.

Watching as the bottle made yet another trip to Draco's waiting mouth, Harry frowned slightly, before jokingly asking, "Are you always so vague?"

"I'm not trying to be vague, not really. It was an honest answer and I have no other way to explain it. I feel so goddamn numb inside so much of the time that I start to think maybe I'm already dead. Then, when I do actually feel something, there's no way to control it. It's like some switch on my emotional cut off valve is fucking broken. Feeling overwhelms me, but the funny part is, the emptiness is still there even then. It's like being sucked dry, everything you feel and know falls into some black pit of nothingness. Which . . . is what I want, or wanted anyway, but at the same time, like I said, nothing hurts like empty. It fucking eats you alive," he finished, amazed at how much he had just told Harry, quickly taking a sip of whiskey to shush the nagging little voice in his head that was scolding him for being so open.

Speechless, Harry only reached for Draco's free hand and squeezed it. Drawing it to his mouth, he turned it over and pressed a kiss on the lined palm, curling Draco's fingers over the warm, slightly damp place.

"I'm sorry Draco, I wish I knew what to say. I just want to understand and you can talk to me anytime you want, I'll be here. Just please, please, try to stop doing that to yourself," he spoke, his voice an emotion-choked whisper.

Turning to look at Harry, Draco leaned into him until his forehead pressed against Harry's scarred one and said, "I can make no promises, but I can tell you that I will try. I really will. You make me want to stop and maybe, you can give me the strength I need to do it. I have made a mess of my body and I don't want that anymore."

Smiling softly, Harry brushed his lips across Draco's once more and told him, "I see nothing wrong with your body. I quite fancy it, actually," he finished as his hand slipped to Draco's hip, pulling him even closer to share a deep kiss. The taste of whiskey on Draco's tongue wasn't so bad, in fact Harry almost liked the flavor in his lover's mouth. It held a different dimension somehow.

Pulling away, gasping slightly, Harry brushed the hair from Draco's cheek before speaking, "I like whiskey kisses."

"Do you now? Would you care for another?," Draco inquired, desire burning in his eyes.

"Yes, yes, I would," Harry replied.

"Then by all means, help yourself, it's an open bar," Draco invited.

Laughing at Draco's strange sense of humor, Harry took the bottle from him and held it to his lips, eyes slitting as Draco complied with his silent request and drank. Removing the bottle from those broken lips, Harry tried to ignore the vaguely disappointed look that flashed across Draco's silvery eyes. Although, he should've known an alcoholic wouldn't exactly be thrilled to have their bottle taken away, especially when they were drinking from it. Harry almost regretted his decision of 'feeding' the pale boy more whiskey. Leaning over a little, he sat the bottle on the floor with a tiny clink.

He jumped Draco then, pressing him into the downy mattress, his lips seeking and finding his lover's. Pressing them forcefully against Draco's, he delighted in the whimper of pleasured pain for a moment before sliding his tongue back into the whiskey-drenched cavern of Draco's mouth. Tongues sliding against one another in unison, Harry lifted Draco's head up to allow his tongue deeper access. The flavor of the strong alcohol mixing with Draco's sweet saliva was a heady mix that made Harry's mind float away.

Moaning beneath him, Draco raised his hips to press insistently against Harry's erection. Jerking his hips in a slow rhythm, he slid his own hard cock against Harry's, mingling their precum. Delighting in the slippery sensation, Harry began to fuck back against Draco, sliding up as Draco slid down. Releasing Draco from the kiss, Harry buried his face in the soft blonde hair and groaned loudly, "What are you doing to me?," he asked, knowing from the look of intense concentration and pleasure on Draco's face that his question would go unanswered. And he didn't care. The feeling was so new that Harry was lost himself shortly after he asked. Hard and soft, wet and smooth all melded into one feeling that made the boys cry out into one anothers' hair.

Bodies pressed tightly together, still but for the movements of their working hips. Draco's arms slithered around Harry's waist, his fingers clenching spasmodically against the flexing muscles of his lower back as Harry's lips nibbled his earlobe. Their harsh pants resounded off the stone walls as sweat began to slick their frames. Moving faster, their movements growing more unsyncopated as they neared their orgasms, Harry moved his mouth to the sculpted muscle of Draco's shoulder, worrying the flesh there, gently at first but with increasing vigor as the first tinglings of an orgasm began to take hold of him. Responding in like, Draco latched onto Harry's opposite shoulder.

They ground against each other, their muffled moans and cries urging the other one on, ever closer to coming. They were beginning to shake together as the first wave rolled over them, cresting and holding for a split second before breaking and sending them over the edge. Muscles spasmed, causing their jaws to lock on each others' shoulders with a vicious ecstasy as come spurted onto their bellies and blood trickled into their mouths. Slowing their frenzied movements as they rode the ebbing flow of their mutual orgasm, they each released the others' shoulder.

Finally, Harry rolled off of Draco and looked at him with eyes still glazed with lust and smiled. Draco surprised him by smiling back, a small smile, but a genuine smile nonetheless. "That was amazing," Harry whispered, wiping the sweat from his forehead. Dipping down to kiss Draco slowly and languidly, he wallowed in the taste of his own blood. He never knew he would like things like this, he'd never even thought about them before. But Draco was bringing out parts of him he never knew existed and he could only be thankful to the handsome young man for that.

They both lay on their sides for a long time, just touching each other. A light stroke of a cheek or a tentative, exploring touch on the bite marks that decorated their shoulders. Eventually though, Harry thought about the time and realized they had missed almost an entire day of classes. Not that it was anything new to Draco, but to him it was. He knew people would be worried about him. The-Boy-Who-Lived wasn't allowed to stray very far and he hated it. No privacy for himself, no real ability to ever get away. But he knew he had responsibilities, much to his chagrin. Bitterly he wondered when his life would ever truly be his own.

With a sigh of resignation he looked at Draco's sleepy eyes and asked, "Are you going to any classes today?"

"I don't really give a damn one way or another," he answered, eyes fixed on the ceiling now.

"I need to try and make it to at least one class though. There's probably already a search party out looking for me," Harry said, distaste evident in his voice.

"I figure it's about time for Potions, maybe a few minutes before," Draco stated.

"Come with me, Draco, please," Harry implored.

Quietly pleased that Harry wanted him with him, Draco nodded and rose to get dressed. Clambering over Harry, he retrieved his bottle from the floor, taking a quick swallow before walking to where his pants lay in a crumpled heap on the floor.

Looking back to see Harry watching him with unabashed want written all over his face, Draco grinned and said, "C'mon lazy, let's go. This was your idea after all."

Rousing himself, Harry grumbled, "Yeah, yeah," before rising and starting to retrieve his own scattered clothing.

Soon they were both dressed, including Draco's glamor being back in place. Harry noticed that, yet again, one eye was brown. He wondered if Draco was doing it on purpose and decided to ask later. They needed to hurry for the time being if they were going to make it to class on time. Harry made for the door only to notice that Draco wasn't coming with him. Looking over his shoulder at the taller boy, he shot him a questioning glance.

"We can't be seen together, Harry. The shit would hit the fucking fan," Draco said, regret and anger dripping from his tone.

"You have a filthy mouth, Draco," Harry said.

"Must be all that music I listen to, bad influences and all," was Draco's retort as he stuffed his liquor into a pocket.

Laughing at his boyfriend's wry humor, Harry quickly crossed the room to where Draco stood and took him by the hand, "Come on," he demanded, pulling a protesting Malfoy behind him.

"But Harry . . . people . . . they're really not going to bloody like this. Particularly your people and you know it," Draco resisted.

Having managed to drag him to the door, Harry turned to look at Draco, rage glittering deep in his emerald eyes and said, "Well, FUCK them," with a vehemence that Draco had never heard before.

With that, he boldly yanked open the door and strode into the corridor, his hand clasped tightly in Draco's and they began to make their way to the dungeon classroom.

A/N: I hope you all like this installment. I am sorry there was no miracle cure for Draco's drinking or anything. Just stick with me, everything is going to work out I think. Thanks to all of you who read and review. Please keep it up. I love it.

Also, the reason this story ends up pushed to the top so often is because I edit as I go. I can't ever leave things alone. I. Must. Tinker.