Summary: Draco Malfoy has a problem. Harry Potter is the only one who cares enough to fix it. Will he be able to save Draco from himself? Does Draco even want him to? Broken and lost, he may have no choice. Deals with drug abuse.
EDIT 5/24/13: So, I've decided to go through the entire story, and edit the whole thing, just adding some things to make the story more sensible. ^-^ Tell me if you see anything that makes no sense to you, and I'll try to fix it. ^-^
Author's Note: Hello everyone. I couldn't sleep late last night, and so I started this. I'm not sure how good it is, as I did write this at like… midnight, but I think it's decent, at least. Also, this is only the prologue. Please tell me what you think about it, and how to improve it. I'm already done with the second chapter, so it should be posted tomorrow, or the next day. This story shouldn't be much longer than 10,000-20,000 word. If you have any suggestions on anything, or any knowledge on rehab centers, and general drug withdrawal, that would be appreciated. Thanks, and I hope you enjoy. :-)
~DracoMalfoy456~
I hurt myself today
To see if I still feel
I focus on the pain
The only thing that's real
-Hurt, by Nine-Inch Nails/ Johnny Cash
It all started the day he got the mark. He had been proud, to have the chance to prove his worth. He thought he could redeem the Malfoy name, that they would once again be feared, and renowned.
But he was a fool. He wouldn't redeem the name, but condemn it instead. He had tried his hardest to fix that cabinet, to do his task. At times it seemed impossible, but he had succeeded. If only he had been successful in his other task as well, the important one. He could still remember the pain from his torture.
After that, he lived in fear in his own home. Couldn't even go to the library for a book without spotting a Death Eater, who'd hex and torment him. He hated the Death Eater's with a passion. He was almost glad to go to school, but it didn't stay that way for long.
The school wasn't what it had been. It was dark, filled with evil. And it was entirely his fault. He got glares from everyone outside of Slytherin, and there wasn't a place he could go without remembering that faithful day, last June. He couldn't even step foot on the Astronomy tower without having a panic attack.
When his wand got taken from him, he was left defenseless in a place he was least safe. He was forced to take his mother's wand, a wand that didn't work well for him, leaving her defenseless.
When Harry Potter defeated the Dark Lord, he was relieved. He didn't care that he would probably spend the rest of his life in Azkaban; he just wanted everything to be over. But as luck would have it, he managed to escape Azkaban, on the technicality that he wasn't of age when he got his mark, and did his worst crime. His parents weren't so lucky. The kiss for his father, and ten years for his mother. He was alone.
He had thought it would be over. Now the Dark Lord was gone, he could start over. Be a better man. But yet again he was made a fool. He should have known they wouldn't let him do that. That they'd never let him forget.
It had started with glares. He had returned to Hogwarts to complete his final year, which he had missed most of due to his duties, and when he was there, he couldn't pay attention. The glares had soon escalated to insults. The insults had escalated to hexes. And finally, the hexes had escalated to his attempted murder.
It had been an angry young girl, whose parents had been murdered by Death Eaters. She couldn't have been older than 15. He could have stopped her, if he had wanted to, but the truth was, he hadn't wanted to. He was tired. He hated himself, and just wanted everything to be over. So when she cast a powerful cutting charm over both his wrists, making it look like suicide, he didn't resist, or call for help. He had just lain there, until someone had found him, half an hour later, covered in blood, nearly dead.
They assumed it had been attempted suicide. All they did was make him see a counselor for a few weeks, and forgot about him. He didn't mind. He made up lies for the counselor, and they gave him a clean bill of health. The insults got worse. They all knew, what had supposedly happened, and they didn't leave him alone about it, many saying they wished he had succeeded. He agreed.
The only ones not to sneer at him in hatred were the Golden Trio. All they did was ignore him, and watched as he got hexed, and hurt. He always thought what they did was worse than the insults and hexes, since it showed he was less than nothing to them. He wasn't even worth their attention.
He believed that was what drove him to it. He needed an out, but was too afraid of death to kill himself. He had to visit other means, other means to make the hurt go away, make the pain just stop. He got the idea in his mandatory muggle studies class, and decided it was perfect. It would make reality go away, for a while. It would work better than alcohol, they said. So he went out into the Muggle world, during one of the last weeks of school, and acquired his desired poison. And it worked. He felt nothing, only mind-numbing bliss. Reality fell away, all their hatred, and insults. All the pain, and anger, and sorrow. It was gone, for those blissful, peaceful moments. It always hurt more when he woke, and was sober though. But it was worth it, for the momentary peace.
When school ended, he didn't even try to find a job. Who'd have him, an ex-Death Eater? He couldn't deal with the rejection. So he just went to live in his manor, and was soon forgotten. No one cared. No one missed him. It continued that way for years, his only visitor his former friend Blaise Zabini, who only visited him out of obligation. Draco would live for those few visits.
One day, he went too far with his addiction. He hadn't even realized it. He didn't care. He fell into unconsciousness, his last sight of his once best friend hurrying towards him, shouting something he couldn't make out. He fell into that blissful oblivion, and wished he could just stay there forever. Wished he'd never wake again.
Of course his wish wasn't answered. He woke days later to the view of white, sterile walls, and a medi-witch bustling around. They told him nearly died. He wondered why they didn't let him. Due to policy, he was 'asked' to go to the wizarding equivalent of rehab. He resisted, saying he didn't need it. He screamed, and shouted, but they insisted, appealing to Blaise to make it happen, who forced him to go.
That was the day his life changed.
That was the day he re-met Harry Potter.
~XOXOXOXOXOX~
Harry Potter's life had been wonderful after Voldemort demise. Of course, it hurt him to think of those who died, but his life was pretty good, considering. He had an amazing girlfriend, the best friends a wizard could ask for, and a perfect job lined up for him, as soon as he left Hogwarts. Nothing could be wrong.
Except there was something wrong. Something terribly wrong. And of course, that thing started with one Draco Malfoy.
He had noticed the changes in him immediately after he stepped foot on the train. Harry didn't want to fight anymore, so when he first heard Malfoy was returning to Hogwarts, he was apprehensive. He vowed nothing Malfoy did would affect him, even though he'd no doubt be his same old, pratish self. He listened as Ron would rant and rave about Malfoy's return, though he never joined in. He just wanted to forget. He promised to himself on the first of September, that no matter what, he'd ignore Malfoy. He was so sure he'd be the same, and would try to start a fight. That was just who Malfoy was. What he had never expected was that Malfoy would be a shadow of his former self. With shabby robes, tousled, tangled hair, and tired, dead eyes, he was a poor imitation of the proud man he had once been. It shocked and nearly terrified Harry, but he resolved to ignore Malfoy still. He wasn't his concern.
The insults and hexes sent Malfoy's way 24/7 were hard to ignore, but he did, and he got Ron and Hermione to follow his example. Despite his resolve to ignore Malfoy, he would still constantly watch him, and saw as the boy withered into himself. Harry was surprised at how much it bothered him, to see his tormentor of over six years so broken, but he never did anything about it. It wasn't his problem.
When he heard about Malfoy's attempted suicide, he almost went to see him. He didn't believe it. How could Malfoy do something like that? But again, he resisted the urge. Malfoy was nothing to him, just a nuisance. But he couldn't stop watching him, as the blond got worse and worse. To his confusion, he felt sorry for the blond boy, who was wasting away.
Once school ended, he didn't hear from Malfoy again. According to rumors, the young Malfoy was a drug addict, and never left his house anymore. The only one to talk to him was Blaise Zabini. But that was all anyone knew of the young recluse.
Not that Harry cared, because he didn't. He had enough problems of his own. Once he left Hogwarts, he immediately went into Auror training, and quickly rose through the ranks, graduating after only six months, instead of the usual two years. He should have been ecstatic, like his friends, but he wasn't. He hated his work, hated waking up early just to go find more violence, more anger. He had thought it all ended after the war. And so, little under a year after he was placed on a squad, he quit.
The media had had a field day after that one, but he didn't care. He just wanted to be free of the violence, once and for all. But he couldn't just sit around and do nothing, so he went and signed up for healer training, so he could still help people, but not have to see the violence. It turned out that he was quite good at matters that dealt with the mind. After the war ended, many people were left half mad, either from grief, or from torture. It made him feel good to help people like that. And so, a year later, he became a mind-healer. He would talk to patients that needed someone to talk to, and he would help those who couldn't talk due to madness. He had many long term patients, as well as many short term ones. It was tiring work, but he loved it. He would frequently work at clinics outside of Mungo's on his days off.
During this time, he finally asked his long term girlfriend, Ginny Weasley, to marry him. They had been going out for three years consecutively, and half a year before that before the war had started getting worse. Despite this amount of time, he still wasn't sure it was what he wanted. But he went along with it, because it was expected. Besides, he loved Ginny, right?
So they got married, after a month long engagement, and they were happy. They fell into a routine. Wake, eat breakfast, get dressed, kiss each other goodbye, leave for work, come home, eat dinner, go to bed, repeat ad infinitum. It went on this way for two years. And he was happy. At least that was what he told himself. But then his life changed.
Then, he re-met Draco Malfoy.