Disclaimer: Not mine, etc. If it was, I would feel sorry for the readers and publishers.

Author's Note: This fanfiction is going to be slash, and involves slashy stuff between Harry Potter and Draco Malfoy, so if it's not your style, don't read it, for goodness' sakes! May or may not involve, sadism, masochism, sado-masochism, drugs, sex, cutting, torture, blood, violence, etc. Merry reading!

licorice wand:thank you for my one and only sad review, I took the advice, thanks!

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Harry glanced out of the clouded over window in the hallway adjoining the Gryffindor Common Room. The Christmas Holidays were playing themselves out like a slow black-and-white-film.

His friends had both returned to their families for Christmas, and he found that the holidays had left the school even more deserted than usual. Only a handful of first-years had stayed, apart from him, and he did not particularly hold company with any of them. Well, insofar as he knew, anyway.

Well, the second day of the Christmas holidays where buried in a delicate down of snow. Even inside, with warming spells, the air was chilly, making him walk perhaps a little faster than he would have to get to breakfast than on any other day. Upon entry, he saw that what people that remained at school had assembled at a single communal table to eat breakfast. He also noticed perfect blonde hair adorning an elegant blonde, dining in a most scrupulous manner. He sat farthest from the others, and closest to the door, and Harry.

At first, Harry almost did not recognize Draco Malfoy from even his most distinct hair, as it hid much of his face and looked as if it had been washed recently. It had not yet had enough time to dry properly; making wet strands of hair trail down his neck to dampen the back of his cloak and shoulders.

Harry absorbed this and regained his composure. Taking a seat over near the professors, but further from the first years (as they had a habit of watching his forehead with reverence), he began to eat.

Draco gave a fleeting glance, just once, but made no comment, his eyes not lingering for even the barest moment too long, as if distantly noting and disregarding his presence with casualty.

No nasty comments, wondered Harry, he seems to have lost his backbone - namely Crabbe and Goyle.

A few moments later, Draco finished eating and quietly left the table. No one but Harry seemed to have noticed. Harry mentally shrugged to himself.

The weather was exquisite, and he longed to take his Firebolt out, and test the weather. He quickly finished the remainder of his breakfast and collected his Firebolt.

Outside the morning was as cold as he had predicted it would be and he reveled in the crisp cold air washing over him. Harry mounted his broom effortlessly, and in a mere moment he was lost in the skies, his hair blowing about his face, which was set in a grim determination.

He felt as if he wanted to find something this morning. Find something in himself, or find shocking release. Something that logic defied, and could not be found.

Somehow, in the freezing cold, snow and wind, he felt a strange conviction that if he went fast enough and far enough, something would happen.

He flew for hours around the grounds, for hours upon hours, he even skirted the fringes of the Forbidden Forest.

He was tired out, but felt oddly elated. He had not found his goal, but at least he had gained a temporary sense of freedom from the world, and his unusual longing had been momentarily sated.

He was flying back to the school to land in for a snack if he could, as he had missed lunch. As he was about to take the last dive to the doors, he noticed a stark contrast against the roof.

He decided to let his curiosity win over his stomach and landed on the roof. There he saw an abandoned Nimbus 2001. His throat constricted.

He saw the beautiful, soft hair whipping around a pale face, the eyes staring straight into his own.

Draco was like a deer in the headlights, but unafraid.

Harry saw the knife, silver, hilt embossed with a labyrinthine design, tip touched with blood. Harry also saw what looked rather like a rose carved into Draco's forearm He saw the old, fading scars of what looked suspiciously like a question.

"Hello." ~~~~~~'~~, ~~~@

"Hello," greeted Draco Malfoy quietly, and mock innocence, "care to join me?"

Harry made no move. Draco simply shrugged and began to lick the crimson droplets that dripped down his arm, purely and obviously for Harry's enjoyment. Harry stepped forward once in numb nausea, to stop him.

The expanses of sky and snow seemed distant and the frosty weather seeping into his veins trivial.

He heard Draco's laugh: rather like rich red wine, and saw the other boy's titillating smirk. He saw Draco spring up lightly and mount his Nimbus 2001. And in the seconds in which the shock wore off enough to allow him to register Draco's actions and begin to follow, Draco had already left. The only things that faced him were the snowy, wind-swept, grounds and the vast, cloudy, skies.

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Harry managed a small meal, which he sneaked from the house elves, and wandered to the Gryffindor Common Room, rather distractedly. He wondered about what he had encountered, and why. Why would Draco, of all people, do something like that? To be sure, he could not even barely imagine Hermione or Ron doing that, but Draco seemed to have no reason at all.

The armchair he was sitting on was large and comfortable, rather like a bed without sheets. The fireplace in front of him crackled merrily, casting of a soothing, warm glow onto his body, and there he drifted off, with the warm glow of the fireplace in his mind.

He woke up that night to realise he might just make it to dinner if he ran. As he raced towards a hearty meal, he wondered if Draco would attend dinner. The hallways were cold, and looking outside a window as he went past, he saw the snowflakes drifting slowly down.

It turned out that Draco was at dinner, but yet again Draco gave Harry no thought. With the barest flick of an eye, he was gone from Draco's mind. Harry decided to instead to concentrate on his dinner, picking at his food rather listlessly.

He went to sleep that night wondering just how many times Draco cut himself, to be so cool about it? He thought for a long time that night, his closing thought being would he ever want to do that to himself?

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A/N: also thanks tijuana@hotmail.com for the review!