Cut My Heart Out

Harry twitched in his sleep. It'd been three hellish days since Draco had stormed out on him. They hadn't spoken since. Draco purposefully avoided his eyes and insulted his friends loudly in front of him. Harry had barely registered it. He felt completely empty and devoid of emotion. He had tried to look at his former boyfriend and remember all the new things they'd tried together - new for Harry, at least - but his eyes had started to leak without warning. Even Snape's cruel remarks ceased to bother him.

"Get up, you lazy sod," came Ron's voice from a few feet away. "We need you to get down to breakfast so we can laugh at you hair."

Harry blushed and attempted to flatten his hair into submission. He had recently persuaded Hermione to cut it, but it had looked so unnatural he'd been relieved to find it had all grown back the next day. Harry rolled out of bed and hit the floor with a dull thud. Ron's freckles appeared before him, following by concerned eyes and bright red hair which seemed to have arranged itself into some sort of eighties punk style.

"Not unconscious, are you?"

Harry wiggled his eyebrows unenthusiastically and let Ron help him up.

"You're not usually so bad at getting up. What's got into you lately?"

"Ron, I'm going to get dressed. Unless you want to stay for the show I suggest you go and hold the toast rack hostage again."

Ron swallowed and wandered towards the door. Then, he stopped and turned back.

"And that's another thing, Harry. You're making far too many gay jokes. People are starting to-" he waved his long arms around vaguely "-talk."

Harry nodded and waited until Ron had skipped off, then fell back onto the bed with an exhausted groan.

* * *

When he finally got down to breakfast, Harry was greeted by a grinning Calliope, who shoved some grapes in his direction. He couldn't help smiling back, her cheerfulness seemed to rub off on him.

"Why so down, Harry? You're not yourself. We're worried about you--"

"I'm fine. Honestly. I've just not been sleeping well."

Calliope didn't seem convinced but she didn't pursue the subject.

"Blue Moon dance soon! Any plans?"

"Not a one," said Harry.

"Well, I'm not going," Hermione sniffed.

Ron put an arm around her and gave her puppy eyes. "And why is that, Hermy-wormy?"

Hermione shook him off. "I'm not going to be humiliated if I can possibly avoid it. Honestly, the dance is just an excuse to get off with whoever strikes your fancy."

Ron looked at her like she was crazy. "So?" he asked, confused.

Hermione pushed him playfully, but unfortunately underestimated her own strength (Harry supposed carrying all those heavy books made excellent triceps) and Ron toppled over, bringing Harry and Calliope down like dominoes.

As he and Calliope lay entangled on the floor, giggling hysterically, Harry couldn't help noticing Draco's cold eyes following his every move. Something in Harry's chest flared up and burned for a second, and was gone.

As the students left the Hall to go to their different lessons, chattering and wiping owl droppings off their hats, Harry saw a hand beckoning him through the crowds. He followed, his focus never leaving the strangely familiar fingers. He was led into a large cupboard set into the corridor wall. The moment he entered he heard the door slam behind him and a low voice muttering, "Lumos!" A thin beam of light landed on Harry's throat. He raised his head to see Draco staring at him, his features strangely unfamiliar in the shadows.

"Harry."

Harry turned to leave but Draco flew to the door and blocked his path. Harry tried to ignore the silver tingling in his skin where Draco's elbow had brushed his hand.

"Harry, you've got to listen to me."

Harry sank down until he was cross-legged on the cold stone floor. The other boy sat down in front of him and took a deep breath.

""I'm so sorry. When you...well, that night in the old Divination room - I w-wasn't ready, OK? I didn't have time to think. I'm really sorry I reacted the way I did. I didn't mean it, I -"

Harry was slightly shocked to see tears glistening in his eyes. Instinctively he reached out to put a hand on his shoulder. Draco took advantage of this and pulled him into a slow, sensual kiss.

"I hope we can try again," he whispered.

Harry kissed him again. They melted into each and in the darkness, Harry was truly happy for the first time in days.

* * *

As the Blue moon dance grew closer, Harry's heart soared higher and higher. He and Draco met everyday after lessons and sometimes before the day had started. Harry would slip on his invisibility cloak and steal over to the Slytherin tower, where he would watch Draco sleep.

During lessons, Harry would talk to Calliope, who would talk to Draco, so they had an excuse to sit opposite each other. When no one was looking, they held hands under the table.

Harry could tell Draco was happy too. He'd learnt to read the handsome face and understood every flared nostril and mouth twitch. When Draco was excited, Harry noticed he would blink faster than usual, and when he was pissed off, he would attack his cuticles mercilessly with his teeth and when he was happy, he would move like he was walking on air. Harry noticed Draco gliding about the castle more and more. He mentioned the night before the Blue Moon.

"You've been so cheerful lately. It seems alien on you."

Draco prodded his shoulder. "Oi, I've got a lot to be cheerful about."

Harry let his head fall into Draco's lap. He snorted. "Oh yeah? Like what?"

"Well, tomorrow is the dance, and my partner will be the most desirable person there. I will be envied by all. Wouldn't that make you cheerful?

"It does make me cheerful."

* * *

Harry and Ron strode into the ballroom. Ron was elegantly dressed in sapphire blue dress robes, which brought out his eyes and made his hair seem even redder than ever before. He attracted a few admiring glances from the girls standing in clumps, chatting.

Harry was wearing dark green robes, which made him feel very self-conscious. His eyes searched the room for Draco. He saw him by the drinks table, dressed in robes of shimmering violet. Harry was proud. His boyfriend was easily the most attractive wizard present.

Calliope walked quickly over, eyes sparkling.

"Harry!" she said. She wore pure white robes, which made her look like some type of beautiful ice queen. Harry was amazed.

"Calliope, you look..." he strained his mind thinking of a word, "breathtaking."

Calliope's smile grew even bigger.

"Thanks, I feel like Snow White... you look great! Is Hermione here?"

Harry shook his head. He hadn't seen Hermione all afternoon. He supposed she was getting ready, gelling her hair into submission. Calliope disappeared, and was replaced by Neville, who seemed very nervous. He said something about not having the courage to go through with tonight, but Harry wasn't really listening. Draco was waving to him from the other end of the room, and miming drinking. Harry gathered that he wanted some punch, and manoeuvred himself over to the drinks table, grabbed two glasses of punch and turned back. He peered over the dancing couples, looking for Draco. He took a sip of the punch in his hand and started to dodge couples as he walked across the ballroom. A glimmer of golden hair caught his eyes. Draco was sitting by the side, immersed in conversation with Calliope. Harry chuckled to himself. If he'd seen that a few weeks ago, he would have been jealous. The thought was now vaguely amusing. He wandered towards Calliope and Draco, sipping more punch as he went. He could easily taste the alcohol. He idly wondered how many different people had spiked it so far...

Now only a few feet from them, Harry couldn't help noticing Draco's hand was on Calliope's, and was stroking her palm gently. His voice was gentle too. Harry caught a few words.

"So beautiful... perfect night... can't believe how I could never..."

A knot of jealousy stirred up in his stomach, which he quickly quietened. Of course it was innocent, Draco and he were in love. Pure, true, perfect love... Draco looked round and saw him, but he gave no familiar nod or smile.

Harry watched in a muted horror as his lover leaned forward and kissed Calliope's flawless cheek. His lips traced along her jaw, the way he'd done with Harry's so many times, and kissed her bottom lip softly. Calliope's magnolia-coloured skin turned a beautiful shade of pink and she kissed him back, gently at first, then more fiercely.

Harry was frozen. He felt dizzy and unreal, like he'd been spinning in the sky. Someone tapped him on the shoulder. Ron's concerned face came into view.

"Harry? Harry! Are you drunk?"

Harry shook his head and accidentally swayed against Ron. Ron caught him under the arms and dragged him over to a chair, muttering about balls and punch and stupid girls.

Harry feebly tried to explain that he wasn't drunk, but Ron wasn't convinced. He took Harry's glasses of punch and scolded him for being foolish.

"Honestly, drinking the punch when there's types like Malfoy who'll stick a tonne of vodka in it... you should have stuck to the Butterbeer. Hagrid keeps a careful eye on it."

Harry felt like he was going to be sick. He shoved Ron aside roughly and ran out of the room, tears gathering in his eyes.

This can't be happening. It can't... he'd never do this to me...

The corridor was warm and stuffy. Without even realising what he was doing, Harry pushed open the door to the outside world and ran out. The air was cooling and refreshing. Harry let it rush through him. His head felt a little clearer. He sank down onto the edge of the fountain to watch the water dance. After a while, he noticed someone else was there. A figure was standing in the shadows, facing away from Harry. It was shivering and striding up and down. In a flash, Harry realised it was Draco. He dashed up to him and grabbed his arm.

"Draco!"

Draco turned around, surprised to see Harry.

"Yes, Potter?"

His tone was so cold, Harry was confused.

"Draco, about Calliope..."

"What?"

"Why did you do it? How could you kiss her like that? I was fucking WATCHING, Draco. You knew I was."

Draco scowled at him. His eyes were as hard as steel.

"So? This isn't a relationship. It's just a bit of fun. I should have known you'd bring so much into this, Potter."

Harry stared at him with black eyes. A bit of fun? All the time they spent together, all the times they'd kissed... Tears welled up in his eyes and he choked. Pain ripped up his insides. But I...

Love you?

* * *

Harry sat in the common room, alone, glaring at the fire.

This is my punishment for loving you.

Harry felt like he was choking on his own emotion. He stabbed the fire viciously with his wand.

How could it have gone so wrong? What did I do to deserve this?

Pain coursed around his body, like his blood was infected with a crippling agony. Harry doubled up and tears started to roll down his face. In a sudden flash of inspiration, he rushed across the room to where he'd left his bag. He delved into it and retrieved his penknife, the one that had been a gift from Sirius. He rarely used it.

He flicked out the blade and turned the penknife over in his hand, letting it reflect the flicking light from the fire. Without thinking, he drew the blade across his wrist and watched numbly as crimson blood welled up and dripped pathetically on the carpet.

I can't ever live this life. I can't stand not being with you.

Harry reached into a pocket and found the picture Draco had given him. The Draco in the picture was still sat, staring into space, occasionally sighing and pulling his hair out his eyes.

"How can you stand this?" Harry asked the picture, his voice rasping and broken. "How can you not feel this?"

The picture Draco looked up at him, baffled and scared, then sought refuge behind the chair he'd been sitting on. Harry rocked back and forth, choking. The blood from his wrist coursed down over the picture, obscuring it. Harry let the blood run.

"You don't want this? Want me?" he pleaded. This pain was worse than he'd ever felt before, worse than the Cruciatus course. His hands were hot and his insides burned. It would never stop...

A footstep interrupted him. Harry looked up to see Hermione standing uncertainly by the door. She took a small step forwards and gasped when she saw the blood over the carpet and Harry's face and arms. She rushed over, her face pale with shock.

"Harry! Oh Harry, what have you done..." she gabbled, while trying to mop him up with her robes. He tried to bat her away but his head fell forwards and his muscles ached when he tried to move. Hermione located the slashed wrist and gasped. She tore off a piece of her robe and bandaged it.

"How could you do that, it's so deep... you could die, Harry, just sitting here... you stupid bastard, don't you realise?" she sobbed, her voice cracking as she finally wrapped Harry in her arms and wept into his shoulder.