"I used to rely on self-medication
I guess I still do that from time to time
But I'm getting better at fighting the future
"Someday you'll be fine..." Yes, I'll be just fine"
Harry had been doing fine before the wedding and he continued to be fine afterwards. 'Fine' here meaning he wasn't going to freak out over missing Draco. He kept his routine going of attending work, keeping up with chores around the house, keeping himself fed and healthy, and going to therapy. Weeks flew by.
Looking around the empty house made him feel extra lonely at first, but he'd decided to turn it around (which was his therapist's idea, actually). Although the housewarming was months ago, there were still some rooms that could use a little TLC: moving boxes littered around, lightbulbs installed but no proper lamp hanging from the ceiling, furniture placed in ways that Harry disliked by now. He found himself rearranging stuff a couple of times before he was content.
He tried his hand at decorating, but he didn't own a lot of decorations to begin with. He went shopping in both Muggle and wizarding shops, bringing home a mishmash of items that looked cool individually, but paired badly. There was no theme, no rhyme or reason. He didn't see it as a bad thing, though. No, he liked his little trinkets. Instead of calling his decorating mismatched he could simply say his house had 'character'.
Despite the new hobby and despite hanging out more with his friends now that they were graduated from Hogwarts, something was still off for Harry. The wedding had awoken something. Around him, people were marrying off and starting to think of children and all that kind of shit. Meanwhile, Harry felt like he was somehow running behind. Yes, he had bought a house, but that was because he had nowhere else to live (besides a tent at the Burrow or 12 Grimmauld Place post-Ghostbusters?). Also, he had bought it with his parents' money. He hadn't done anything to earn that or this house, really.
Ah yes, the return of the imposter syndrome. What had Harry done in life, really? He'd saved the world and shit, sure, but he had never dated anyone before Draco. He hadn't travelled much, he'd never left the UK. He spent his free time watching TV and exploring the rapidly expanding world of internet porn. Besides decorating and hanging with friends, he didn't have any hobbies. He went jogging and worked out, but he didn't fully enjoy it the way some of his friends did. The boasting of 'endorphin high' after running? Nah that's a myth. He also wasn't getting buffer from it, yet he kept doing it.
He was an alright adult. He managed the simple, basic tasks. Calling people on the phone was still highly uncomfortable. He preferred to send an owl. Add to that Harry's brain's latest trend: panic attacks in random environments, and he was... well.... He was fine. Just barely fine. He didn't have enough going on in his life to feel satisfied or fulfilled. He didn't feel like he amounted to much, and beyond being the Boy-Who-Lived he wasn't actually all that special.
His therapist told him many of his feelings were normal or at least to be expected from somebody like Harry. Although he was a bit young to be experiencing it, apparently a lot of 'new adults' felt rushed to get their life in order, to get boxes ticked off like 'house', 'marriage', 'kids'.
For Harry, his situation felt a little different, though. It felt more like he only been allowed to live for the past year, and he had years of wasted childhood to catch up on, while he had to suddenly be a reasonable, rational adult. He hadn't been given the opportunity to be stupid and young first. His friends had been stupid and young, and now they were settling down, one by one. It felt like an oncoming tide, ready to engulf Harry with a suffocating sea of expectations.
Yet, something about the water was comfortable. He'd dealt with expectations all his life. He'd learned how to breathe it in without drowning. Instead, the freedom he'd gained by taking a break from Draco felt more akin to drowning. He was standing on the shore, choking on the harsh air, no landmarks in sight, no help on its way. He was supposed to know where to go, what to do next, how to walk, how to breathe. Nobody was going to teach him how to live, how to be. He had to do it on his own. And it was terrifying.
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(Drarry) Faking My Own Death
FanfictionDraco had dealt with enough death to make peace with his own. Getting a handle on his emo angst, he assumed his life would end after Dumbledore's murder. He didn't expect to keep living. He didn't expect to find something, someone left living for. H...
