Bleed Me An Ocean

A/N: The title of this chapter is the name of the song that is quoted in it.

Disclaimer: (For HP related disclaimer, see first chapter) I do not own the lyrics that are quoted herein. They are the sole property of the artists who wrote them.

Draco weaved his way unsteadily down the hall. Silently berating himself for going to Harry's dorm. What, exactly, had he intended to do? Confess his undying love and devotion to the one person in the world he was expected to hate more than anyone? He had no idea. The only thing he knew was that whilst standing there, trying hard as he could to be still - and quiet - he had somehow lost his balance and fell down. Still trying to wrap his mind around that one, he grinned wryly and continued shuffling down the hall.

At least I kept hold of my bottle, he thought smugly, patting the reassuring lump in his pocket. He could feel the cool of the glass through the cloth and it comforted him. It spelled redemption, whiskey had become his family and his other love.

Harry . . ., he thought, his mind forever coming full circle to that one name, that one face. It had become an almost physical ache, his wanting to touch him and to have Harry claim his body.Those green eyes boring into his from across The Great Hall had frozen him and set him on fire all at once. They had terrified him. The now alcohol-dulled ache in his calf bore witness to it all, in a way. The soon-to-be scars were a testament of his love, no matter how morbid that may've seemed to an outsider.

"Fuck all," Draco hissed slurrily, reaching into his robes for the little cd player that was called a 'Walkman' by Muggles, "I need mushic to make thish go a...way," he said, almost forgetting where he was going with that train of thought. He fumbled with it for a bit, growing steadily more belligerent, on the verge of ranting loudly when it finally jerked free. "Good show," he told it, patting it fondly as he slipped the headphones on. Pressing play, he soon lost himself in a pounding roar of industrial music.

Draco was so wrapped up in his music that he never once registered the vague sound of cloth swishing closely behind him. He's fucking drunk!, Harry thought, shocked once more by all that he was seeing, Totally pissed!! However, it did explain his strange behavior on the way to school. Slowly the realization formed in Harry's mind that Malfoy hadn't taken anything as innocent as a nap. He'd passed out. What Harry almost found just as interesting was that the rumors he'd vaguely paid attention to about Malfoy listening to Muggle music were true. Unbelievable!, Harry exclaimed to himself. Malfoy was turning out to be a bag of surprises. He idly wondered what sort of music he liked as he picked up his step to keep up with Draco's increasingly faster (and more unsteady) pace.

Malfoy's a drunkard . . ., Harry's thoughts trailed off. But why? Harry was beginning to have the sneaking suspicion that whether he was aware or not, it had something to do with him. But not entirely. No, there was far more to the story than that. And anyway, why would he have something to do with Malfoy's dysfunctions? He could not think of a single reason, nothing that had ever transpired between them should have caused what he was seeing. Yet the feeling persisted that he was one of the reasons Malfoy had apparently taken to trying to drink himself to death.

Harry nearly ran into Malfoy when he stopped suddenly in front of him, swaying alarmingly.

“S’good nuff,” Draco mumbled, his speech slurred and broken from too much alcohol while he looked at something off to the left, just out of Harry’s view. With that said, he made his way over to what Harry could now see was a door to a presumably abandoned classroom. Draco twisted at the doorknob and, upon finding it locked, rattled it viciously for a moment before he seemed to realize that it didn’t matter whether it was locked or not. Taking the wand from his robes, Draco mumbled what could only have been an unlocking spell. When the lock was undone, the thin blonde wandered into the room without a backward glance. Unknown to him, Harry was hot on his heels.

He had barely made it into the room when Draco turned to shut the door. Ducking under his outstretched arm Harry made his way to the nearest corner as quickly and quietly as possible. A look around the room confirmed that, indeed, this was an abandoned classroom. Thick dust coated everything around and piled like dirty snow into the corners. Harry silently hoped he would not sneeze and give himself away.

Draco moved slowly about taking in his surroundings, stopping momentarily to gaze out the one window in the old, filthy room. The moon hung high and round in the midnight velvet sky, only a few lonely stars twinkling. The cold light of the moon washed over Draco, illuminating the high planes of his cheekbones, the straight and aristocratic nose. He breathed deeply of the fresh air that streamed through the narrow window. His face was pensive and sad. He was a gorgeous young man, but he looked drawn and tired as well. Apparently whatever was wrong with him was taking its toll on his sleep as well.

With a heavy sigh he pulled his bottle from his pocket and took a long draught of the burning liquid. It slid down his throat, seeming to caress his vocal chords even as it snatched his breath away for a moment. Turning away from the window he walked to the center of the room and quickly cast silencing and locking charms all about. He nodded, seemingly satisfied with his work. Fiddling with his Walkman for a moment, he found the song he was looking for and smiled. Then, to Harry's surprise, he began to sing, and amazingly well. He had a rough tone to his singing, like whiskey and cigarette smoke. His tones lent the right feeling to the song, one that seemed to be desperate and wanting.

"Step into the light, illuminating you for all to see. Come into my sight, empty handed, not for me. It's in your hands, my one demand. No one can tell the sins I need to sell," Draco intoned, his eyes closed as he gently swayed to the music that poured into his ears, "I'm still sipping from your well, reflecting back to me your perfection in my eyes. Burn me, rape me, take me."

He trailed off then, his eyes opening slowly to look around the room. Taking off his headphones, he removed his robes and spread them on the floor. Sitting down with a graceless thump, he took another pull from his whiskey bottle then replaced his headphones.

Harry watched him raptly, wondering if he was going to just pass out there in the room. He was still reeling from hearing Malfoy sing, he had a great voice. Harry never would've guessed that about the other young man. In fact, had he ever had to guess he would have said that Malfoy was likely tone deaf. Nothing could have been farther from the truth. So lost in his own thoughts he was unaware of what Draco had been up to even though he was looking right at him. A small moan from Draco quickly jerked him back to attention.

Harry's eyes widened in shock, for there before him was Draco Malfoy stroking his surprisingly long, thick cock. Lost in the rapture of the song he had been listening to, (the first Muggle song he had ever heard in fact and it still made him squirm with desire). That coupled with his racing and ever present fantasies concerning Harry had proven more than the drunk young man could bear. He needed to cum so bad it almost hurt and he drowned in the caress of the song and the suction of a pair of lips he could see, could almost feel in his mind's eye.

Thrusting his hips upward he fucked the tight ring his fingers made on the soft flesh of his throbbing prick. Fantasy Harry was between his legs, his head bobbing up and down, swallowing Draco's length. Draco buried his fingers in his soft, dark hair and brushed it from his eyes. His mouth was so smooth and hot as he cleverly flipped and rolled his tongue over the oozing head. Pausing, Fantasy Harry looked up to Draco with a devilish grin, "Is this what you wanted my little slut?"

"Mmhmm," Draco moaned on the floor of the disused classroom, "More. Please more."

He was lost again as Fantasy Harry nodded and lapped the precum from the purple head of Draco's erection. "Come for me, Draco, come in my mouth," he murmured before that hot, wet vacuum engulfed his length once more. Sucking him with a force that was oh so close to pain, but not, he dug his fingers into Draco's upper thighs bruisingly hard, just the way he liked it. It hurt so good. Bolts of lightning pleasure raced up Draco's spine in the fantasy and in the dirty room.

Thrusting his hips faster as he was taken over the edge in the fantasy, his own release flooded hot and sticky onto his hand, "HARRY!," he cried out hoarsely, his back arching him nearly double. His breath came in ragged gasps, his silken blonde hair flying across his handsome face as he tossed his head to the side.

Slowly coming back to Earth, his heart still pounding but slowing down along with his respiration, Draco gazed dazedly at the ceiling, absently pulling his bottle back for one last draught. Then, murmuring Harry's name once more, he drifted into a drunken, sexually contented sleep.

A/N: This chapter gave me FITS. Fits I tell you! Please, pretty please, review.