Heaven's Lost

The little girl cried herself to sleep in the fireman's arms as her house burned down in front of her with her parents still trapped inside the flames. No one saw a shimmering, golden tear from heaven fall upon her cheek and meld into her skin.

They say that somewhere between Heaven and Hell, a "golden" dimension exists, and there, the condemned and tragic gather, sometimes before they move to the afterlife, sometimes for eternity. No one knows for certain.

They say that shooting stars are souls who have found their peace and can leave the dimension for good. They say that blood spilled there fall to earth as cursed rubies that doom their owners to lives of tragedy. And they say that tears shed there carry the blessing of heaven and will save a life from the place between Heaven and Hell--not earth, but Heaven's Lost.

Draco Malfoy idly waited, drinking a glass of blood red wine that he had found within the house. He thought it horribly ironic that this year, their day was also Christmas, that silly Christian holiday in which their messiah was supposedly born but was actually just another name for the ancient festival of Saturnalia. Their day should not be allowed to fall on a day of celebration because their day was anything but joyful.

It was either this, however, or a lifetime together, and he would have chosen the latter had the condition not been that they never touch because Draco knew being with him but never able to be with him was a fate far worse than death. He'd rather cast himself to earth than endure that. Draco may have been indiscreet and imprudent, but he was not and never will be foolish.

He gazed out the window to the black Christmas pine trees adorning the driveway, and he vaguely pondered upon how this dimension always knew. A few moments later, he heard the door shut, and Draco set his glass down, awaiting his "visitor".

Blaise Zabini walked into the room moments later and took the seat opposite Draco, where another glass of wine sat. He raised his glass to Draco before taking a small sip, eyes trained upon Draco's own. Draco reciprocated the gesture.

"Do you not find it amusing that this place replicates itself to that of the other planes? And that it always knows?" Blaise asked as he placed his wineglass upon the table.

"They do call it the 'golden' dimension, Blaise. Heaven's Lost reside here until they find their peace."

"And would you ever call us Heaven's Lost?" Blaise asked, blue eyes piercing.

Draco shrugged. "I prefer to not think of myself on the same level as people like the Potters."

Blaise laughed. "No, of course not. You prefer to think of yourself as better, no? After all, people like us do anything for what they want, do they not?"

Draco stood and reached across the table, placing his right hand neatly over Blaise's mouth. "Do shut up, Blaise." Blaise looked at him with detached amusement, and Draco's other hand grabbed Blaise's silk shirt, hauling him up. The blond's right hand slipped away as Draco leaned in and kissed Blaise, who had been smirking beneath his hand.

First contact after a year was always indescribable. It was hot and exciting and luscious and soft and wet, and everything unsaid was always voiced during that first moment of contact. Blaise nipped at his lips, bit his tongue, fought a wild duel with Draco, and when they drew apart, a thin trickle of blood flowed from a corner of Draco's lips, gently sliding down pale skin and onto his neck.

"Do you ever wonder...?" But Draco cut Blaise off as he leaned in again and seized Blaise's lips, and Blaise's words were swallowed through another greedy kiss, this one much less harsh but no less passionate.

When Draco drew away, they were both breathing heavily, and Draco released his hold on Blaise. "I hate you," he said quietly, and Blaise smiled at him.

"I know."

Then, Blaise was at his side, tugging at him, and Blaise's mouth was on Draco's neck and Draco's thought processes immediately diminished. Blaise walked them backward, mouth no longer attached to Draco's skin but one hand in his pants and the other under his shirt, and Draco stopped thinking.

Blaise maneuvered them to the foot of the stairs, and there, he spun them around, pinning Draco against the wall. His hands pulled Draco's shirt off swiftly while he nipped Draco's stomach, and Draco moaned as Blaise began working at his pants.

When Blaise pressed against him, he realized that Blaise was still fully clothed, and Draco's hands worked frantically at Blaise's clothing, pulling the shirt off to reveal an expanse of pale, smooth skin. Blaise mewled when Draco brushed his left nipple and worked even more quickly at tugging down Draco's boxers.

It wasn't long before Draco had rid Blaise of his own confining trousers as well, and Blaise was pressed up against him, and he no longer felt cold but scorchingly hot as Blaise pressed against him, mouth lavishing a trail down his bare chest.

When Blaise stopped and placed two fingers into his mouth, slowly sucking them, Draco automatically raised his legs and wrapped them around Blaise's waist, the wall digging roughly into his back.

Blaise gave him a smirk before his fingers entered him, and Draco groaned and tried to urge Blaise in deeper, but Blaise refused, a delicious smirk upon his face the whole time. Draco, frustrated, pressed his lips against Blaise's in order to remove the smirk, tongue entering warm wet heat and God, how could he possibly stand only having this once a year?

Then, the sensation of Blaise in him was gone, and this time, Blaise cupped a hand to his cheek before suddenly thrusting, and Draco decided to stop thinking when he felt Blaise enter him. It was more than just hot and tight and moremoremore, though; there was always something else underlining what they did, something they refused to say but both acknowledged, and that magnified every sensation, every touch, a million times.

They did it three times more, another time against the wall, once upon the stairs, and the last time on the floor, and it was everything that they had been looking forward to and nothing like their expectations all at the same time. It was so real that it almost hurt.

Blaise laughed as he lay upon Draco on the floor, and he breathed, "Do you ever think of breaking the rules?"

Draco looked up at him, and he knew what Blaise was thinking. This time, though, he didn't shy away from the prospect of it like he did normally, and he realized that if they could truly manage it...this would be worth the consequences. "Do you want to?" he asked back, and Blaise laughed at him.

"Always." Blaise pulled himself up and gathered their clothes, throwing Draco's at him. "It's worth anything, don't you think?" And Draco nodded in response as he put on his clothes, and Blaise unleashed a genuine smile upon him. It was like the sun rising after a rainy day.

They ventured out into the cold, and when they joined both pairs of hands together and did the unforgivable, the irreversible, the unthinkable, one single tear slid out of Draco's eyes and fell to earth.