Where The Sun Drops | drarry post-war

nine | i must not tell lies

"Possible psychosis!" he chuckled gleefully, while Harry nearly burst a blood vessel trying not to show that he could see or hear anything other than his therapist.

"'Post traumatic stress'... 'fabricated migraine' and a question mark- oh my God, Pisshead, she knows you're lying!"

Harry fidgeted uncomfortably, leaning forward on his seat and straining his ears to listen to Annie's voice over the crashing waves of Malfoy's cruelty.

"Is something the matter, Harry?" Annie asked gently, pausing mid-sentence to look him directly in the eye. "Are you experiencing a hallucination?"

"Malfoy... he's reading your writing," Harry mumbled. "The parts about my 'possible psychosis' and my 'fabricated migraine'. It's really off-putting, I prefer not knowing what you've written about me."

For the first time since he'd met her, his therapist looked shocked. "How is- did you see my notes, Harry?" she asked, angling them closer to her chest.

"No," said Harry tiredly. "I'm very short-sighted."

"Then how-"

"Just a weird joke of mine. Sorry."

Silence hung in the air, heavy and tense.

"Oh," Annie nodded, picking up her pen to write again, "Alright."

"Notes... inadvertently... interpreted... by patient..." Malfoy read aloud, following the slope of Annie's hand, "....- compulsive liar.... question mark...."

The scarred line on the back of Harry's and prickled at the last part; "I'm not a liar," he muttered, though he wasn't sure that was true any more. This time he made sure to keep his voice quiet, though, and didn't repeat his words when Annie asked him to.

***

Malfoy might have been an awful brat for the whole session, but at least one marginally good thing had come out of it, Harry realised - the bastard existed, even if only Harry could see and hear him. He wasn't going insane!

This thought calmed him monumentally, to the point where he stopped feeling guilty for concealing information from Annie and was able to relax again in his chair. All mentions of Malfoy's presence stopped; Harry reverted to the migraine story, and eventually it seemed that the therapist believed him.

The whole event was written up as a nasty episode of PTSD brought on by a stressful week, a migraine, and a lack of sleep, and Harry was free to leave with a slightly lighter heart than he'd come in with.

"Are you awake enough to drive?" Annie asked, as the two of them stood up at the end of the session. "And headache free? No hallucinations?"

"Absolutely," Harry nodded. "Got Gin waiting for me outside, anyway, and you know I'd never put her at risk."

"Alright, good lad," his therapist smiled. "Good session today, Harry. I'll see you next week?"

"Absolutely," Harry nodded again. "Thanks for everything."

Just before he left the room, however, Harry turned back to Annie with a thoughtful expression on his face.

"About my ... little joke. Earlier, I mean - I did accidentally see your writing," he lied, careful to put on a mock-apologetic tone. "These glasses really are very good. I'm sorry for that."

Annie smiled, and the relief in the air was palpable. "That's quite alright, Harry," she said. "I'll see you next week. Drive carefully."

"I'll try."

***

It was dark outside when he got to the car park, though Malfoy's essence was slightly luminous and provided a little light on the scene to guide the way to the car.

"Look, Malfoy, do you think you could not lie on the dash this time?" Harry asked quietly as they walked. "I'm kinda drained and I understand that you hate me, but I'd like to stay alive tonight."

"If you think I'm getting in that disgusting Mudblood contraption with you and that bitch, you've got another think coming," was the ghost's scathing reply. "Fucking audacity. Imagine thinking I don't have anything else to do tonight anyway!"

"Ok, yeah, I'm sure you're really busy," Harry replied sarcastically, though he was too tired for his tone to have any real edge to it. "Whatever. Just don't block my vision, please."

Malfoy paused, thinking. Then, "No, I think that's precisely what I'm going to do," he announced, and glided away from Harry over the few meters to the car to arrange himself carefully on the windshield.

"Malfoy, please, it's dark-" Harry started, but it was no use.

"Fuck."

"This is what you deserve, Potter."

"I know."

Harry ran a hand over his aching head, then climbed wearily into the passenger seat.

This was what he deserved.

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a/n: i hope you enjoyed this chapter! i realised i forgot to mention i've decided to start using italics like this to show when draco is speaking in the chapters, to make it clearer that no one else can hear him so sorry if that was confusing before!

if anything else is confusing lmk but otherwise please vote and comment if you enjoyed!!!

~ paradisedraco 💗