healing | drarry

sixteen

idk what im doing fr

like i have the plot written in my notes but bringing it to life is difficult

ngl im waffling 

it has been TWO WHOLE YEARS since she blocked me and id forgotten ab it until i saw the date which has now just sent me into a whole spiral

two years??? TWO YEARS??? and i've moved on just a tad, but HAVE I?

i hate everything

~no pov

Strangely, though it'd been three weeks, Harry and Draco had met up on multiple occasions, for the kids of course. The kids had known each other for about three months, the adults had known each other for seven years and counting, and somehow the kids were closer. But the adults were getting there.

Neither adult had let down their guard yet, both definitely slightly on-edge every time they were around each other. Despite that, they were becoming friends, and it was sweet. Draco enjoyed the company of another wizard, even if that wizard was Harry Potter, and Harry enjoyed new company.

Hanging out with the same two people and a therapist could get boring sometimes.

In the past three months, since Teddy's first day of primary school, Harry had opened himself up to magical healing, psychological healing and whatever other types of healing Etheria had offered. He was going to get better for his son, so that Teddy would never have to watch Harry dissociate again.

And he was. Bad days existed, but he was getting better. The potions he was taking were rare and slightly questionable, but he begged Etheria for a way for him to get better quicker, and it was working.

The potion was basically the same as a muggle anti-depressant but more efficient and harder to come across. The potion would physically take some bad memories and, once consumed, the memories would have less emotional effect on the consumer. 

Sometimes, it blurred memories or got rid of them completely, and that's why they were slightly questionable and limited. And since they had to be customised, obviously they were harder to get.

And he discovered that there were actual potions for dissociation. As long as he could remember to get the potion when he felt like he was shutting down, he wouldn't dissociate. And those potions were also rare, and expensive, but he had the money and the resources.

And the potions were working. Harry hadn't dissociated in three months, and he was working on controlling emotions rather than dulling the way memories felt for him. It was hard, but the working-on-emotions part was something he'd been trying to do for years.

Draco, however, was still getting worse. He didn't have therapy, meaning he didn't have a psychiatrist to diagnose him and prescribe things to him, and that meant he had to heal alone and he couldn't do that. He wasn't letting himself heal, so he couldn't. He didn't think he deserved it.

Being around Harry Potter was helpful, somehow. Because they could talk about magic, the part of Draco that he'd been repressing finally got some attention. Repressing a big part of his life was incredibly painful, so talking about magic was therapeutic. 

Since he'd relapsed in Harry's bathroom, he'd not stopped. He found comfort in hurting himself again, and when he couldn't actively hurt himself, he'd irritate his wounds to find a little bit of comfort in that.

Being around Harry made him forget sometimes.

To summarise, Draco was having more bad days than good, and Harry was having more good days than bad. While one healed, the other kept hurting.

And until they helped each other, things would not change.

Harry was bored, and a little bit drunk. Teddy was at the Weasley-Granger's, and he'd just come back from therapy, and it was a good session, and he felt good, so he drank to celebrate. But he was bored. Being alone was boring.

He'd watched some TV, gone on his phone a bit, and couldn't find anything to stimulate his boredom. He considered going to the bar and bringing someone home, but he didn't want sex. He wanted company.

So, he drank his inhibitions away and called Draco Malfoy. 

"Hey Malfoy." 

"What do you want Potter?"

Something about Malfoy's voice made Harry curious, and he was painfully unfiltered when drunk. "What's up with your voice?"

The man on the other end of the line cleared his throat and then replied. "Nothing's wrong with my voice but have you heard yours? Are you drunk, Potter?"

"What? No." 

"Tell me about your day."

"So basically, er, today, I dropped off Teddy and went to see Etheria, and it was good so I drank- water. Er, not alcohol." His voice slurred slightly as he spoke. 

"You're definitely drunk, Potter. Why'd you call?"

"I'm bored. Come hang out with me."

"Why don't you hang out with Weasley or Granger? You know, the people you're best friends with."

"You're my friend too Malfoy." Harry smiled to himself. "Can you come over please? I like talking to you."

Harry heard something fall to the ground, maybe something silver, because it made a metallic cling and Malfoy started complaining to himself quietly. Harry listened patiently, surprisingly. 

"Malfoy." He sang. "Are you okay?"

"Fine, Potter. I'll come over."

"Okay."

Draco sighed as the phone cut off. He was in the middle of making red rivers and having a mental breakdown when the phone rang, and he picked up expecting it to be a spam caller or something. He was surprised when he heard Potter's voice.

The whole conversation amused him slightly, but he was surprised when The Boy Who Lived said that Draco was his friend. He was shocked and ended up dropping his blade, and then when he went to pick it up, he started bleeding a little too much and stained the floor.

But then Potter asked if he was okay, and he liked that. Even if the man was drunk, he still asked. 

He decided, maybe it'd be better to have company with someone whose company he enjoys instead of hurting himself. The urges were bad and the bad thoughts were worse, and he was feeling incredibly self-destructive.

So maybe, just maybe, being around the definition of Light could help with that.

Draco wouldn't openly talk about anything, no of course not, but not being alone could be good for him. 

So there he was, in a hoodie and joggers, deciding to Apparate to the Saviour's house, not caring that he wasn't in his usual pristine state.

He knew for a fact that Harry Potter would look less put-together than him.