More Than a Memory

11

"Harry?" Draco hovers in the doorway, his hand on the frame. "Hermione Floo-called me. She said something happened out in the field today. Are you...?"

Harry shakes his head and takes another pull of firewhisky from the bottle in his hand.

Draco walks into the room and sits beside him on the edge of the sofa, eyes wide with concern. "What do you need?"

Harry shrugs.

"Do you want to talk about it?"

He shakes his head a second time.

"Can I touch you?"

A nod.

Draco reaches out and puts a hand on his shoulder, running his fingers up to his neck, into the back of his hair. Without warning, Harry lurches toward him. The bottle drops to the floor and the amber liquid spills over the carpet. Draco ignores it and wraps Harry in a fierce hug. He begins to shake in his arms, and he starts to sob uncontrollably against his chest.

They fall asleep on the sofa, Harry still clinging to Draco like a lifeline. 

✦ ✦ ✦

"This isn't good for you, Harry. I don't think you should keep—"

"I'm good at it, Draco," Harry says flatly. "People need me."

"It's killing you!" Draco bursts out. "Have you looked in a mirror today? You look bloody awful!"

Harry shrugs. "Sometimes things happen, I can't stop them, and it's..."

"Horrible! It's...other people are good aurors too! You've done enough, Harry."

"I just need to...develop a thicker skin, I suppose. Not let things bother me so much."

"You've been fighting evil since you were eleven," Draco says softly, walking over to cup his cheek. "You don't need a thicker skin, Harry. You need peace. You deserve peace."

"I don't. I have to keep fighting. It's what I've always done, Draco. I don't know what else I would even..."

Draco sucks in a sharp breath and drops his hand. "There are plenty of things you could do. I'm happy to help you explore your options, but don't expect me to stick around and watch you kill yourself doing a job you hate."

"Draco..."

"I won't watch it, Harry. I can't."

"I'll...think about it. Okay?"

Draco knows he won't, but he sighs and kisses his cheek before letting the subject drop. "Alright."

✦ ✦ ✦

Harry is a mystery that Aiden can't quite figure out. Sometimes unbelievably warm and sweet, like when he'd made Aiden dinner the week before, and others quiet and sullen.

"Are you okay?" Aiden asks.

Harry is sitting on the sofa in front of the fireplace, drinking from a glass of amber liquid.

"What the fuck am I doing? Harry says in response, speaking more to himself than to Aiden. "I need to quit. It's killing me. It's actually killing me. Bloody hell, I hate it when he's right."

"What? Who's right? Quit what?"

Harry's eyes focus on him. "My job. I need to quit my bloody job."