A Wonderful Disaster: A Drarry Fanfic

Introduction

A Wonderful Disaster

Harry hated the way he felt these days. He couldn't blame work, or Ginny, or his kids, or anything normal. He didn't know what to blame anymore. He just felt wrong.

Ron didn't get it, "What've you got to be aching about? All the bad's stuff in the past!" And Harry didn't either.

Hermione asked all these questions, "Is it physical or mental? Have you been eating enough? Are you sure it's not your PTSD? Has anything happened recently?" And Harry didn't know the answer.

Ginny didn't have much time to talk about it, "Harry do we need to talk about this right now? Albus needs to do this... Really? Now? Can't you see I'm busy with Lily?... Harry I'm too tired for this right now,"  And Harry understood that, really.

He never got to talk to Neville or Luna anymore, which he always regretted. He loved getting a different opinion on things, which those two were great at. And when they weren't at Hogwarts, they were travelling the world together looking for all sorts of beasts. It was nice for them. Harry knew not to be so selfish.

Harry tried everything. Paying extra attention to Ginny seemed to worsen the problem. Putting distance between them helped a little, but the kids would get caught in the middle of their fights. He was too honour-bound to cheat, but by each day past he got closer to the line. Even masturbating felt wrong somehow. It just didn't make sense anymore.

Not only was he getting frustrated in multiple ways, he was starting to notice new things. Like how Ron's new haircut really brought out his cheekbones. Or how Neville's buttons on his shirt always looked so snug. Or how the new auror must have an amazing tailor because those trousers fit in all the right places.

He shouldn't be thinking these things. He's a married man with three good kids and a steady job and a life most people only wish for. But something was wrong.

His early years often came to mind. Being called a faggot as he was shoved into any small space available. Being scoffed at by all the girls because he was so weird. Maybe those parents and teachers looking at him weird actually meant something. Maybe his few jerk-off sessions in that little closet to the sounds of Dudley masturbating were supposed to tell him something.

Things at Hogwarts were different though. People no longer shoved him into things, or scoffed at him, or looked at him too weird. His session were no longer to the sounds of his cousin but then they weren't to anything. His mind was swept up in the mystery and dangers and everything he had to do. Then his sessions were after-thoughts, they were simply there to get rid of the nagging feeling in his heads.

When Cho came along, he tried to think of her. But somehow Cedric always factored into the equation, sometimes even replacing Cho entirely. Maybe that's why his death really hurt Harry.

When Ginny came along, Harry knew she was stunning. He knew that she was meant to be close to him. But it wasn't until she was the one pulling down his boxers that he understood how she felt about him. Maybe he just went along for the ride, not wanting to hurt her feelings.

And now he was stranded here. His kids forced him to stay with Ginny. His friends forced him to stay with Ginny. The entire Weasley clan forced him to stay with Ginny.  They didn't mean to, but Harry sure felt tied up.

Ginny felt how unhappy he was. She tried getting closer, but he just pushed her away. She was even getting frustrated- if Harry wanted something different why didn't he just say so? She hated when he didn't stand up for what he felt. Whatever happened to the Gryffindor boy she fell in love with?

Harry asked himself the same question a lot. What happened to being brave? And courageous? Why was he so afraid of whatever this is?

Something was wrong, and Harry felt frustrated.

~

Some days, Draco understood his father. His wife was an aristocratic airhead who only seemed to care for herself, and his son a little copy of his mother who tried so desperately to impress his father. Although he doubted his father had it this bad.

After all, his father had plenty of power wherever he went, and at least could fuck his own wife properly (well, that's what it sounded like through Draco's walls). Draco was wealthy, yes, but hardly had any power. Most people just shunned him for actions he and his family had done during the war and that was to be expected. As for having sex with his wife, well, you could tell it was an arranged marriage. After all, Draco only had a son because Astronia had caught him jerking off and pulled him into her as he finished himself. Not exactly romantic.

This didn't bother Astronia much. After all she had never really liked Draco in the first place. That combined with her many lovers she failed to keep secret meant she didn't care what Draco did. If it wasn't for Draco's parents pushing for a white haired heir they wouldn't have even had Scorpius.

He, unlike Harry, didn't have that something was wrong feeling. He had known he was gay since his little experimenting back in sixth year, but had lived in the closet for fear of being disowned. Eventually the arranged marriage occurred and now he was stuck in this horrible scenario until his parents kicked the bucket or he found a reason to come out publicly.

While he knew exactly what was wrong with him, he still was frustrated. Gay bars and clubs had been fine at first, but with such a small crowd he was eventually recognised. It had almost gone to the press before Draco bought out the reporter who had seen him. Ever since that, he'd been stuck with a few sketchy books hidden in his personal library and the comfort of his own right hand.

He had honestly tried to be a good father to his son, but he simply didn't know how. Scorpius was very much a loner, and Draco respected that, so they had a good but distant relationship. Maybe it was wrong, but neither of them knew any different.

The war had also cost him his friends. Blaise and Pansy ran away together fresh out of Hogwarts. He occasionally got a letter from them, but it was never very detailed or personal. Crabbe and Goyle finally got it in their heads that they didn't have to follow Draco around every moment of the day and so they left. Both moved away and never even bothered to say goodbye.

It was a sad life. Draco had been feeling worse and worse as time passed, fuelling his PTSD and his depression as he went. So many things were wrong but he felt powerless on how as to fix them. And any Malfoy cannot stand feeling powerless.

~~

New fanfic, I know. Really I'm just bad at endings.

This was originally all-smut but then I made a story so now it'll be a (hopefully short)  Drarry fanfic.

Hope you enjoy!