Living In My Head (Drarry)

Chapter 55: The Photo Album

Chapter song: Photo Albums by Daniel Licht (from Dexter)

My eyes were glued to the book, squinting my eyes to see if I could find something on the cover as a clue to what it was hiding, what Dobby was hiding.

"So you're cleaning?" I ask, raising my eyes from the book to him.

He nods, his words forming slowly as though he was lost in thought, "Yes, just going through some old things. I'm glad to see your up, Draco seemed worried, did you guys work things out?"

I shrugged, stepping further into the room, "As much as we could, I guess. It's... complicated."

"This is about his father, isn't it?" Dobby asked, arms crossing over his chest.

"He wouldn't tell me until this morning. I was frustrated, and I got short with him. I had a right to know."

"Harry, you no right whatsoever to treat him that way. You had no 'right' to know. He is not your property, just as you are not his. What he tells you is at his own discretion, and I overheard the conversation. I happened to be dusting nearby, and let me say that you were wrong. I like you, and you are good for Draco, but what he doesn't tell you is not your business. Don't act like a child. I understand you like Draco, I can tell that much, but I can also tell you're inexperienced, insecure, and possessive. If you want to have a chance with him, that has to stop, do you understand?"

I bow my head in shame, he can see right through me. Yeah, I'm inexperienced with relationships, I'm insecure because of that, and I'm possessive because I'm terrified I'll lose him.

"Harry, look at me." he tells me, and I screw my eyes up to look at him from the corner of my eyes. "Don't be like that. I know you haven't known Draco for long and the speed your relationship is going scares you, but you either need to slow it down or keep up with the speed. It's your decision whether or not it works out. Get to know him more, spend time together, breathe each other's air, just get closer to him. Then, maybe those things holding you back will go away."

I nod weakly, I'm not entirely sure anymore. I felt like things could be fine just a while ago when I was talking to Draco, now I'm not so sure. I feel like once Draco and I part ways, even from a conversation, I inadvertently hold my breath until his return. It's unnatural. Does he even feel the same for me? Judging by the look on Dobby's face, an imploring expression, I feel that maybe it could be mutual.

"I get it," I tell him with a brisk nod, "I'll do better."

"Don't make any promises you can't keep," Dobby warned, "for Draco's sake."

I want to change the subject to a more comfortable one, I think, shifting my bare feet on the cold, concrete floor.

"What's in that book?" I ask boldly, pointing to it.

"Memories," he whispers fondly, "would you... like to see?"

I nod, smiling, "I would really like to."

Picking up the book, he sits on the side of the bed, and I join him, waiting in anticipation for him to open the book.

The first page, the book tinted slightly with age, begins with a young boy, aged about 5, wearing a burlap sack with a big grin on his face. The picture is old, that much I can tell, the date in the bottom corner reading "Oct. 31st, 1968". Dobby grins and points at the description under the picture, which I suppose his mom or dad wrote (his mom, if I had to guess). "Dobby is dressed up as a thing he calls a house elf," he reads, the description short but beautifully written.

The next is what looks like his first day of middle school (judging by the sign in the background that says Harris' Secondary School), he's wearing loafers with ankle socks, khaki shorts with a worn polo shirt, his books hugged tightly to his chest as fear covers his features. The description reads: "Little Dob is scared for his first day, but he'll do great."

Next is a photo of him in a suit, eyes cold, cheeks blotchy. It seems as though he'd been crying, his expression empty, knuckles white as he clutches a suitcase. The description reads: "Aug. 1, 1979. The day Dobby will start working and living at the Manor." He barely looked 16, I doubt he was allowed to go to school too. I voice my question.

"No, I had to drop out of school. Lucius's father, Abraxas, wanted me to focus, so I wasn't distracted by the idea of school. My family was paid well, and I was given food and shelter, so I had no room to complain."

I scoffed, "No room to complain? He made you drop out of school and live here so he could enslave you and gave you money in return?"

"Yes, money. Money that paid for my father's hospital bills, money that gave my mother a roof over her head and food in her belly, money that paid for his and my mother's funerals, money that pays for my funeral expenses, and money for when I am retired and no longer useful here. I am grateful for all they have done for me."

I bite my tongue, "I'm being disrespectful, I'm sorry."

He shakes his head, "Thank you for being angry on my behalf."

"No problem." I mutter, Dobby could never be angry at anyone. I don't doubt he wants to be angry, but he probably doesn't know how to be.

He turns the page, a picture of a younger, happier Narcissa holding a baby. Draco? Why is he in the album?

"I was there for his birth," Dobby smiles, "Lucius doubted he would make the delivery due to his busy schedule, so I attended the private sessions in the manor a doctor gave on how to give birth properly. After Narcissa held him," he pointed to a photo below it, "I got to."

Dobby looked so happy, he was crying. He held Draco flush to his chest, looking at him with love in his eyes.

"I'd never held a baby before, even though I was mid-30's. Draco had smiled at me, pawing at me, and I knew he would make a difference in my life."

Dobby turned the page, showing Draco riding a green tricycle, tongue between his lips in focus. The picture below it looked like him as a chubby 4-year-old playing pirates (complete with plastic sword and outfit), Dobby confirmed the suspicion.

The page turned, a photo of Draco in a private school uniform for elementary school, a grin on his face. The one below it at a birthday party, his eyes closed as he makes a wish on his candles.

The page turned, him smiling and holding a soccer trophy, pushing it out proudly towards the camera. The one below it at a soccer game, his smile weak and tired, dripping with sweat as he sat on the bench. It looked like he didn't know the picture was being taken.

The page turns, he's obviously faking a smile, holding up a perfect report card for middle school. The picture below it is with him sitting on a rock by the lake in the yard, skipping rocks.

The page turns, Draco is hugging Dobby fiercely, holding a present box in his hands. Draco's crying. Narcissa probably took the picture. The one below it is of Draco reading, it looks fairly recent, at least only a year or so old, and he's smiling softly. He doesn't know his picture's been taken.

The page turns, and Draco is laying face-up in the grass, arms and legs spread wide, staring at the sky. It looks like the picture is taken from the upstairs window. The pictures end.

The air between Dobby and I is stale and unbreathable. I let out a short breath, I know Dobby noticed it. Draco got sadder as the years went on. He looked more tired, worn out. The picture where he was reading was the worst. His face looked haunted, thinner, and his smile stretched his face weakly.

"What happened?"

Dobby shrugged, his hands quietly closing the book and setting it beside him on the bed. "A mixture of things, but I think it all leads back to his father." Dobby stands, grabbing a broom to sweep, and I'm left sitting on the bed.

Dobby was more than a father to him, no doubt he was most important to him. There's more than Lucius, I can tell. Draco looked ill for a while there. What happened to Draco?

--
A.N.
I gave Dobby a lot of time to talk because, quite frankly, I always felt he deserved to have more room to speak. Even though I diverge from canon by making changes, I feel it improves the story, overall. Anyhow, cheers.
-deathbyinsomnia