Bleed Me An Ocean

Draco sat on his bed in the empty Slytherin dorm reflecting on what had happened with Potter after Potions that day. He smiled at me like he wanted to eat me alive, Draco thought foggily, delighting in it, then turning right around and fussing at himself, He smiled at me and I just stood there like a fucking moron. Blah! His thoughts trailed off as he began to stew in the silence of the Slytherin house. He wanted to listen to music, but he didn't dare do that, even if he was alone for the time being. As involved as he got in his music, he'd likely not hear his housemates come back and getting caught in that particular house while listening to Muggle music wasn't exactly good for one's health.

Everyone else was still at dinner for the time being and he figured they would be for a while yet, but he wasn't willing to take any chances. He'd went as well, but only long enough to quickly devour a bowl of soup. He had eaten it so fast he couldn't even recall what kind it had been, only that it had been hot and had burned the hell out of his tongue. The silent treatment was starting to eat away at his already questionable mental stability. Nothing but stares and snickers behind his back, or even worse, the sudden hush that would fall over his housemates if he walked into the common room.

Draco was waiting for the tension to reach a breaking point that would more than likely end in a confrontation of some sort. The sort of confrontation that would probably earn him a couple of cracked ribs. He was trying to make himself as scarce and invisible as possible in the hopes of staving off what he had determined was the inevitable. He'd noticed more than one of his housemates giving him some rather hostile glares and without Crabbe and Goyle there to protect him, he was toast. Suddenly he regretted telling them to fuck off on the train.

But he really didn't give a shit either, he was avoiding a fight, yet in a way he wanted it over and done with as soon as possible and then maybe they'd all just leave him be so he could drink in peace. It was a bit contradictory in a way. All he really wanted was to be left alone, yet the knowledge that he had no one to talk to even if he had so desired was a bit disconcerting. He took a thoughtful sip of whiskey, then returned it to the safety of his pocket.

Drifting in his slightly renewed buzz, he began to think about Harry again. There had been something knowing in that grin he remembered thinking at the time. It was crafty and satisfied. It had seemed like that smile was telling him all he needed to know and he was just too slow to catch on. He was still too slow, he decided. Draco had no clue what had possessed Harry to smile at him, but he was thankful he had . . . and he had looked damn sexy tipping that imaginary hat at him.

That low, whispery voice of his saying "Malfoy" was the first word anyone had spoken to him since he had come back to school. It had been wonderful, especially considering who it was that said it. His mind flipped back to earlier that day, outside of class when they had been waiting for Snape and the frown on Harry's face as he looked at him. That had hurt. It had been like being vivisected. Hmm . . . vivisection, Draco thought to himself dreamily, Maybe something like that would be enough to show me what it is that's wrong with me. . .

Draco shook his head violently, trying to rid himself of the morbid bent his thinking had taken on. "Goddamnit it all to motherfucking hell!," he hissed, covering his ears in a vain attempt to block out the madness that seemed to live inside him. It was alive he felt, writhing just beneath his skin sometimes. Eyes wide with anxiety he desperately wrenched his whiskey from his robes and guzzled from the bottle. Gulping noisily he did not put it down until he felt the familiar tendrils curling into his head to shut out all the shrieking thoughts that he could not otherwise ignore.

Sitting calmly now, he absently stuffed the booze under the covers of his bed. Swaying gently on his mattress he began to think of what he could do to entertain himself. He wanted to do something fun. Something really fun. He needed to distract himself from his worries. Flipping through ideas, he came upon one he had entertained several times in the recent past. Draco Malfoy sat up straighter, a smile threatening to curl his lips, yet not quite managing. He was going to pierce his septum. Right then and there.

Throwing himself to the foot of his bed, he rummaged quickly in one of his trunks, finally coming up with a small leatherbound case. Silently delighted he had brought the small piercing kit he'd purchased on one of his excursions to sneakily buy music he scooted back to the center of his bed. Unzipping it he looked at the variety of needles, inspecting them all carefully. Finally deciding on the one labelled 12G, he pulled it free.

Admittedly, he wasn't entirely sure what he was doing, but he figured it didn't matter a whole lot as long as the ring was even when he was done. Speaking of which . . ., he thought, setting the needle aside and diving back to the foot of the bed and rooting around some more in the trunk.

"Here we are," he muttered, repositioning himself in the center of his bed once more. He lifted a small plastic bag and held it to the light. Shining prettily was a ring of medium thickness. He remembered that it was called a curved barbell. Taking it out of the package, he unscrewed one of the small balls on the end and placed that and the ring carefully on the little leather case.

Holding the small mirror he had also thought to drag from his trunk, he reached for the needle. Turning his head slightly to the left, he positioned the needle on his septum near the tip of his nose, fighting the sudden urge to sneeze at the prickly/scratchy sensation of the cool steel on his sensitive nasal tissue. Double checking to make sure it would go straight through the cartilage and not go in at an angle, he took a deep breath and readied himself. Counting silently he did not hesitate when he reached three. With a firm push the needle went neatly through his septum, barely hurting at all. The only thing that had made him shudder was the slight crunch the cartilage in his nose made when the needle passed through.

Laying the mirror down he reached for the ring and gathered it in his hand. Counting once more, he pulled the needle slowly through his nose, following it with the ring until the needle was gone and the ring hung from the center of his nose. Screwing the ball onto the end, he finally picked the mirror up again to admire his handiwork. Silently rejoicing that it really was hanging evenly he smiled. It was the first time he had smiled in ages and it hurt his face. But damned if it didn't look fantastic.

He wiggled his nose a bit, trying to adjust to the strange new weight there and giggled sloppily as he reached under the covers for the ever-present whiskey bottle. He felt the need to celebrate, he actually hadn't fucked something up for a change. Flipping the ring idly back and forth with his forefinger, paying no mind to the slight twinges of pain he lay back on his bed and waited for his housemates to return from dinner and hopefully go to bed without harassing him. Thinking that he may take a walk later, he dozed off.

=*|*=

Why is my bed shaking?, was Draco's first thought on being jostled awake. His bed was being rocked viciously from either side by two large Slytherins in black masks. Ahhh, was his next thought. Apparently he was not going to make it through the night unmolested as he had hoped.

"Good evening, gentleman, what can I do for you?, he asked, sounding coldly amused while on the outside even as his heart felt like it was going to rip itself from his chest. This was not good, but he would be damned if he'd allow them the satisfaction of seeing his fear. Cowards! Wearing masks.

"Of all the people, we never thought you would become a Muggle lover, Malfoy," one of the masked figures said, his voice straining against barely concealed rage, "You are a disgrace to the Slytherin house and your father's name."

"A disgrace to all Pureblood families," the other added for good measure.

Malfoy really could not agree with the first goon's statement. In fact, he'd never hated Muggles as much as he had always pretended to. He didn't understand them or their ways, but it had never actually been a source of disdain for him, it had been a source of curiosity. He just never could let on about it. He knew the consequences would be something like this.

Nowadays though he was well past the point of caring about that . . . or about much of anything else. Although, he was aware had he not finally allowed his curiosity to get the better of him and began listening to Muggle music he could have kept that little tidbit hidden even better. Draco had tried even then, but he realized that some secrets just can't be kept, no matter how hard you try.

"Pay attention you worm!," threatened the first of the two bullies, who had joined the other on the side of the bed Draco was closest to.

"I'm sorry. I would have tried harder had you actually been saying anything interesting," Draco said nonchalantly. He may be going to get his ass kicked, but he would be damned if he'd cower, they didn't deserve that satisfaction either.

Well, that did it, he thought to himself offhandedly as he saw the two boys' eyes narrow in rage and contempt.

They simultaneously reached for him and brutally yanked him from his bed, his head cracking painfully on the stone floor. He lay there, dazed, trying to catch his breath.

"Get up you freak," one or the other of them commanded, roughly prodding Draco's ribs with the toe of his boot. A steel toe boot from the feel of it.

Draco grunted as he scrambled to his feet, but obliged. There was no way he'd just lay there and take it, he still had some fight left in him. He had barely risen before a fist caught the left side of his face, pain blossoming into dots that swam in his eyes. Another fist slammed into his right kidney and made him gasp.

Draco threw a wild punch of his own, grimacing in satisfaction as he felt the cartilage of a nose give way beneath his knuckles. It felt good to hit someone back for a change. Really good. His eyes focusing now, he advanced on the one holding his dripping nose, completely forgetting about the other guy.

"You like beating on me? DO YOU?," he roared, disjointed images of a belt slamming across his back causing him to regress and see his father standing there. He swung again, connecting with the reeling boy's right temple and sending him sprawling to the floor. He smirked then, pleased that he could fight back.

"Does it make you feel like a man you sick FUCK?," he screamed, shaking all over as he delivered a kick to the prone young man's ribs, still seeing Lucius laying there. Another kick was all he got in before he was tackled from the side and slammed into the wall face first. He tasted his blood in his mouth as his lips split in four different places and his teeth rattled.

Pulling him away from the wall, the other boy spun him around to face him and began to rain blows on his face. He was much too fast for Draco to cause much damage, but he tried. Before too long however, his head was spinning and he swayed dangerously on his feet, near to collapsing. Blood streamed from his nose and mouth and his entire body was on fire, yet he could feel nothing. He was still in fugue of rage . . . until the boy he had pummeled stepped in front of him and wrapped his fingers around his throat, squeezing. Then Draco wasn't angry any longer, he was terrified.

This isn't happening, he thought hysterically, still not seeing the cruel Slytherin before him. He was twelve years old again and his father's angry charcoal grey eyes were boring into his paler grey ones. Lucius's face was contorted in a fury so pure Draco hardly recognized him. He wanted to beg his father to stop, but he couldn't breathe. Not matter how hard he struggled he could not release himself from that iron grip. All he could hear was his father's bellowing voice, calling him a worthless little boy that would never be able to do anything right.

Draco couldn't fathom what he had done. In fact, Father had seemed fine, a bit distracted, but ok until he had tapped him on the shoulder, startling him. He saw the bottle of ink fall from his hand, as though in slow motion and splatter all over the rug. And then Lucius had been on him, forcing him to the floor, his features twisting into some monstrous pantomime of his father as his fingers wrapped even tighter around his neck and then the world was spinning and he couldn't think, he couldn't really even hear anything except someone screaming for Father to stop.

Then it was over. Father was gone and he was back in the Slytherin dorm, slumped against the wall, a hand protectively covering his throat. Gasping for breath he saw his two attackers, one restraining the other, then whispering something to him about this getting out of hand and pulling him reluctantly away, back to the commons room.

Draco slid up the wall, his legs shaking and stumbled back to his bed. Sitting bolt upright he stared into nothingness, unmindful of his pain wracked body and bloody features. Absently he touched his nose, feeling for the ring and was relieved on some distant level that it was still there.

He sat and stared for hours at nothing, not even noticing when people began to file into the dorm and prepare for bed. They glanced at him warily, taking in the mess of his face, but no one said anything. Then it was dark and after that it became quieter and quieter until the only sounds in the room were the typical sounds of sleep; snores, the occasional grunt, the tiny squeak of a mattress as someone rolled over.

Draco finally stirred from his trancelike state, taking his bottle from beneath the covers and gauging if there was enough left in it to last the night. Deciding there was, he tucked it away and then felt for his Walkman that he had stashed under the covers too. He placed that in his robes as well. Then feeling to make sure his other toy was in its usual spot in his left front pocket, he swung his feet over the side of the bed.

"I think I'll go for that walk now," he stated to the sleeping air, his voice flat and emotionless.

With that he stood and limpingly walked from the Slytherin house.

A/N: I had to make this one longer. I felt it needed it. I am hoping to have Chapter 10 up tonight as well. Please review and let me know what you think. Thanks again to all of you. You guys rock!