Living In My Head (Drarry)

Chapter 57: Weight of Gravity

Chapter song: Gravity by A Perfect Circle
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We walked by the water, the gravestones still lingering in my mind.

Lupin...

Black...

Those are the surnames of my godfathers, are they related to Draco? And if so, how distant? Are they also a part of the Malfoy "family business", whatever that really is? How deep does it all run?

I feel our walking come to a stop, and Draco's eyes are trained on me. "Harry, you're overthinking things again. Something is bothering you."

I shake my head, I really am overthinking this. This is one of the last days I can truly be alone with him before school starts up again. I need to make the best of it. Reaching out and, grasping for his hand, I pulled him closer and kissed his cheek.

"You're right, I'm sorry, how about that date from The Notebook I was promised?" I laugh, pawing at him teasingly.

His expression brightens, a joking smile returning to his face, "Oh really? 'Cos I vaguely remember you choosing the other option."

"Well, I choose this one now." I grinned, laying my head on his shoulder, looking up at him.

He nodded, so I removed my head from his neck, following his lead back towards the dock. The dock was long and narrow, with only one boat tied up, a small rowboat waiting in the still water. Looks like he wasn't kidding. Definitely Notebook-worthy.

I stand at the base of the dock, my arms crossed over my chest, watching Draco with an empty feeling in my gut. Every second that Draco makes me happy, a sad thought always tries to take it's place. The image of his haunted expression from the photos darken my mood. I joined him in the boat, Draco rowing us out from the docks.

As I watched Draco's look of concentration, I could practically see the photo in Dobby's album. The shell of a person with a ghost of a smile, pale, and seemingly fading into the woodwork. The sickness in his eyes.

"Draco,"

"Yeah."

"What happened last year?"

He flinched, as though he'd got a sudden chill. He pulled the oars inside the boat and gave me a weak look. "What do you mean?"

"I saw a picture of you, it had to be a bit over a year old. You looked sick... really sick, and sad, I was wondering what happened."

"Harry, have I ever told you I have a deep-seated fear of being hated?" Draco asked, eyes not meeting mine. I found myself irritated, he was avoiding the subject. Why does he always do that? What is he afraid of?

"No but, Draco, what happened?"

"Well, if you've done any exploring of the house, you've seen the pill bottles in the cabinet."

"Those are your dad's, right?"

"No," he whispered, shame darkening his grey eyes. "They're mine."

"What?"

"Didn't think your 'perfect boyfriend' had any flaws, huh?" His tone sounded quipped and bitter, then took on a sadder note. "Well, I do. I was prescribed for all those medicines at one point or another, evenutally my doctor said I didn't need any of them anymore, that I had gotten better... but then things got worse. My need to have those medicines, to feel sane, was too much. I abused them. I overdosed. I got so fucking trashed that I didn't know my left from my right half the time."

He scratched at his arms, looking at his gloves in pure anger before ripping them off and throwing them to the floor of the boat, scratching at his forearms.

I'd heard of nervous ticks like this in former addicts but I'd never seen Draco do this before. Not this bad. I reach out and grasp his wrists, forcing him to stop. Maybe it was a panic reaction triggered by the memory. I walk a few steps, carefully, and sit beside him on the bench. The boat looks sturdy enough to keep from flipping, hopefully.

"Look at me, Draco. Forget the Itch. Talk to me. Tell me what happened."

He looked between my hands and his in a panic before taking a couple of breaths to relax a little, his shoulders slumped and his eyes found mine. They'd turned a bleak grey, like they had in the photo. I did this. I brought this back.

"I'm sorry." I whispered, edging closer slowly and wrapping my arms around him. He didn't resist. "I'm so sorry, Draco." I can't believe I did this.

He clung to me and started to cry, his body convulsing with sobs. Shit... I really fucked up this time. Why can't I just ever leave well enough alone?

I half-heartedly pat his back a few times, feeling really useless. I kiss his brow and set my forehead against his, his body still shaking. I hum some nonsense tune to him, rubbing his back and holding tightly to him. Everyone's got cracks in their shell, I know that. I've always known that. I just never knew that a single word or touch could make the cracks become a crater. That the crater is just beneath the surface, and will eventually just be hidden again.

He'd probably kept those pills so far in the back of his mind that the mere mention of them made him want to return to the false solace they, no doubt, gave him. I had the occasional problem with self-harm. I knew that. For the most part, I never got the urge, so I never had to control it.

Draco doesn't have that luxury. He probably will remember it now with every waking moment. I brought the memories back of something he wanted to forget. I did a number this time, and I don't think I can ever fully repair the damage I've just done.

"Harry, stop blaming yourself." Draco half-smiled at seeing my struck expression, "I hit the nail on the head, huh? At least we know your flaw now. I'm a druggie, and you are so self-centered you insist on blaming everything on yourself." He had a tone of humor but he was obviously scolding me, telling me that I shouldn't blame myself.

"Then who should I blame?" I ask, heart aching as I see his expression slack.

"You blame me, I did it to myself. Events occurred that were out of my control, things I've come to terms with, but I handled them badly. I turned to drug abuse and that was a bad decision on my part, I know that, but it was the best of the two ideas I had at the time."

"The other idea?"

"I think it goes without saying, Harry."

"I was hoping you would say something that told me that wasn't what you'd meant."

"They were dark times for me, Harry. You, of all people, should understand dark times." Draco's breath settled, his heartbeat slowing as fog escaped between his lips.

"Why do you say that?" I ask, how could he know about my past. Does he know my parents were murdered? How could he? He was too young to remember.

Unless, someone told him.