An- the formatting in the previous chapter wasn't quite what I wanted, and I accidentally cut a scene out so if you're here because you liked the first part please re read it. This is my first attempt at something this complex, so constructive criticism definitely welcome.

"What is it, about the blondes?" he asked.
"It's just a preference," I sighed.
He drug his fingers across my arm slowly.
"You're pale," Malfoy whispered.
"Thanks a million. What do you want, Malfoy?" I asked.
He brought my hand up to his lips and kissed my finger.
"I want to cover you in promises, mark you as my own. I want to be the one you've been searching for," he said.
I pressed my other hand against my hip to hide the shaking. He smiled at me. So open, so honest. I kissed him. It was the barest of touches but I could feel it over my whole body.
"What do you mean?" I asked.
He laid me back on a table that wasn't there before and tugged at my shoes. His fingertips grazed the bare skin of my toe that peeked through a hole in my sock and I shivered.
"I told you once before you were worth novels. I'm going to show you," he whispered.
He undressed me slowly. My breaths were him and my thoughts were him. It was all... all Malfoy. He kissed me and I arched into him. Then he was standing above me, paintbrush in hand.
"What..?" I said quietly.
He hushed me and kissed my shoulder. Then he dipped his brush into the inkwell and wrote. His words covered my skin and my voice faltered. He had more than one inkwell, blue ink and red, black ink and a deep purple. He used them all. When he was finished with my front side he kissed me again.
"You are so important. Don't you believe me?" Malfoy asked.
"I never said I didn't," I said.
"You didn't have to say," he whispered against my chin.
He lifted me up, cradled me in his arms and carried me to a mirror on the wall before setting me on my feet.
I looked into it at the words enveloping me.
BEAUTIFUL. IMPORTANT. MINE.
I looked back at him.
"Malfoy, what are you playing at?" I asked.
"Draco," he said, all he said.
"I came here to have sex," I said.
"I told you. I want to cover you in promises. I want you to know what I think of you, what I've always thought of you. I don't want to be one of those blondes you change your mind about," he said.
"Stop it," I said.
"I want to matter to you. I want- you matter, Harry," he said.
"Fuck off, Malfoy," I said quietly.
He moved closer.
"Scared, then? Of staying, of leaving, of existing, of chance?" he asked.
"Leave it!" I shouted, backing away.
I met the wall.
And then I met Malfoy. It was slow and it was fast as he swirled me around and laid me down. His lips met mine and traveled down over the places in-between the ink. I reached up to him. He circled my bellybutton with his fingers as he made it lower and lower.
My shallow breaths gave up momentarily. He slid his finger down my hipbones and nearer my cock. I wanted it. Wanted him. I lifted my hips to meet him, to entice him. He took me in his fist and so slowly, so agonizingly slow, he moved.
I panted into his neck as his pace sped up and then returned to so very slow.
"Draco," I whispered, "please."
He gave into me, granted me my release with a squeeze and rapid pumping. I arched against him and muffled a yell into his shoulder.
When I regained my breath he stood and cast a quick charm to clean us off.
"What about?" I started.
"We've still got curfew," he said.
I nodded slowly.
"You're right," I said, "of course."

"Malfoy's acting right weird, you know?" Ron said.
I mumbled, "Ron, sleeping."
"He's prancing about the common room with flowers," he insisted.
"Slumbleflug," I groaned.
"Yes, but flowers, Harry! Malfoy," he said.
I gave up on sleep.
I went out to the common room.
"How did you get in?" I ask, brushing the sleep from my eyes.
Draco held out the flowers to me. I ignored them.
"The- Granger let me in," he said.
Ron sputtered and started stalking around the landing of the stairs to the girl's dorm.
"Why are you here?" I whispered.
He smiled, wide.
"Because it's morning and I've missed you," Draco said.
"Exactly, it's morning. Why are you awake, why are you here, where on earth did you find flowers?" I asked.
Draco held the flowers out again. I took them.
"I'll see you later," I said.
His smile fell.
"Draco. Thank you for the flowers," I said with a smile.
He smiled back and left, to the relief of a few first years.

I traced my wand carefully over the criss crossing lines of red. They disappear. There's something nice about the abilities of magic. Something dangerous in it. I learned the spell in my Life Skills class. No one thought anything of it.
"Harry's such a mom. Of course he wants to kiss the boo boos better," they'd say.
I do. Of course I do. But I learned the spell to cover the wounds in my heart. To help me shoulder the burden of being the Saviour without tossing it onto the shoulders of anyone else. It makes it easier.
It's not that the blood releases my pain or anything like that. It's an obsession. Small cuts, tiny. Barely a centimeter, some of them. If I left them, I'm not sure anyone would even notice. But I don't just leave them, I don't just let myself fester and decay because so many people are here because I was strong. Because they think I was strong.
I was strong. Strong enough to destroy Voldemort, strong enough to never let anyone see what has become of the golden child. But I am weak. I am too weak to let them know, I am a fractured thing.
I try, I do. I try to let people love me. I try to overlook a bit of pudge, an unflattering haircut, a lisp. I try to drown in their affections and forget they only want me because of who I am. What I can give them. But I am shallower than I pretend to be and still I am drowning.
I haven't figured out if I always choose terrible people, if all people are terrible, or if I just have horrid trust issues.
Perhaps all of those are true.

"I hope you have a long and happy life, Harry," Draco said.
"You don't get to wish that on me! You don't get to say anything," I said.
He frowned.
"Why is it so bad that I'm trying to be understanding?" he asked.
"I'm breaking up with you," I repeated.
"I understand. I respect your decision and I hope-" he started.
"Don't say it again!" I shouted.
I started crying.
"You don't want me to go anywhere," he said quietly.
"You already knew that. Didn't you?" I asked.
He nodded.
"Let people close to you. Let me close to you," he said.
I walked into his arms, my tears wetting his shirt.

"Why me, Draco? Why? I'm no good for writing on, no good for flowers or whatever else you have cooked up. I'm.. I'm good for vanquishing Dark Lords and big manors near the beach with gardens. Plural," I shouted.
I raised my hands up to my hair as tears began to leak from my eyes.
"I'm not the one people date because I'm just. So. Awesome! I'm a good ticket to the front page and the latest game and oh, I don't know. Powerful children or something. I don't really ask for motives, they're basically all the same," I said.

I began to pace.
"That's not true," he said quietly.
"It is true. I'm rich. I'm powerful. I have great political influences. That's all they care about. I'm not attractive, or interesting. They don't want to taste the new sauce I learned about. I'm nothing to them but opportunities," I said.
Draco grabbed me and held me to his chest. My forehead touched just below his neck and it felt.. nice.
"Not me. I'm rich and even after everything I still have some influence and power. But that doesn't matter to me, anyway. You are so so wonderful, Harry Potter. And I'm going to believe that hard enough for the both of us," he said.
And then he kissed me.
"You are both the sculptor and the clay. And I know one day your masterpiece will outshine the stars," he whispered.

Draco ripped my wand from my hands.
"I came to surprise you," he said.
I just watched him. I didn't have time to cover. I didn't have time to erase.
He was quiet for a long time.
"Why do you do it?" he asked.
I didn't bother asking what he was talking about.
"I don't know," I said.
He looked broken. He looked like me.
"It just.. it gives me something to focus on. If my arm is bleeding, I know why I'm feeling pain. I know how to make it stop," I said.
He took my wrist in his hand.
"How many would be there if we were Muggles, Harry? How many times have you done this to yourself?" he demanded.
I looked into his eyes. He was crying. I kissed away his tears.
"As the stars in the sky," I whisper.
He pulled me into him. My blood smeared into his fingers.
"No more, Harry. Please. Please," he chanted.
I let him. I cried with him until we both faded into the night.