A/N: If you didn't read the warnings in the summary, this fic revolves around dark themes. If you are sensitive to such material, please find another story to read. If you decide to read on, the aforementioned themes arise within the first few paragraphs. If at any point you feel triggered or worse than when you started reading, stop and do something else. You have been warned.

There are a variety of coping methods that people use. Some healthy, and others more damaging. He had promised he'd never do anything like it, that he'd find a more acceptable way to deal with what he was feeling, or lack thereof. Draco had only experienced the urges, but someone always came before they could be acted upon. This time was different. No one was around. It was silent. Deathly silent. But he had a choice. There was always a choice. He knew that, unlike most people. Everyone, at this very moment, was going on about their daily lives. They had no idea what internal battle he was facing. When they did, it would most likely be too late.

Only one person had taken the time that day, all those years ago, to notice the truth that the eyes couldn't hide. They were distant, no life in them. It was noticed by the very last person imaginable. But that wasn't the point. They weren't here now, and that's all that mattered. It was always like this. When you really needed help, really needed someone, no one was around. But when you wanted to be alone, everyone would pester you.

He hadn't had an easy childhood. Most people would disagree as he was a Malfoy. Who wouldn't want to be part of that family? They were rich and very powerful. But it wasn't all it was cracked up to be. Draco knew that better than anyone. His father had always been tough on him, teaching him how to act the Malfoy way. He was the only heir; Lucius wasn't going to let him get it wrong. There was a lot of pressure on him to please his father and his mother, although she never showed that she cared too much about how he acted.

It was only as he grew up did he realize how much responsibility he held. Every child can't wait to grow. There are so many more things you are able to do. But when you reached that age you always dreamed of, you wanted to be young again, when everything was simple.

Draco faced hard decisions as a teenager; even today they had their lasting effects. He didn't want to be like this. He didn't have much of a choice though. He knew he could have chosen to go against the dark lord, but where would that leave him and his family? Not many people realized that even though there's always a choice, sometimes you can't choose. The consequences can be vast.

He could have used magic but decided not to. The razor was in his hand. He twirled it round a couple of times before finally taking a firm hold of it. The voices in his head were getting louder. Only this could drown them out. Or passionate sex. But the latter wasn't an option. His lover wasn't here when they were needed most. Placing the cool metal to his flesh, he hoped one last time that someone would save him. Then he dragged it across his arm. It wasn't a big cut, but it wasn't a graze either. It was enough to make him feel in control again. He didn't bother wiping away the blood or using a healing charm. He just let his sleeve roll down his arm, smearing the liquid. Draco hoped that this feeling would last forever, that he wouldn't lose all sense of emotion, and that he'd never take a razor to his skin again.

Harry had gone for a walk. He enjoyed watching the sun set, feeling the chill against his skin. It always made him feel alive, all his problems momentarily forgotten. But when the moon came up, he couldn't stand to be outside any longer. The death of Remus had shaken him. Not only had he been one of the many father figures in his life, but he felt for Teddy, who had lost his parents, just like Harry himself. He had tried and failed to stay one whole night without breaking down, but the loss was so huge, it was impossible.

Back at his apartment, he made a cup of tea and went to bed. It was a couple hours until he was finally captured by sleep as his brain was over thinking. Everything he had been through had taken its toll on him. The war may be over, and he may have saved the wizarding world, but he hadn't had a proper childhood. Finding out he could do magic may have made his life seem better, but all it really meant was that he was constantly looking over his shoulder making sure death wasn't right behind him.

It was the middle of the night when Harry woke up, his sheets soaked and clinging to him. Not very often did he have nightmares this bad, they had calmed down, but he couldn't control them. He decided to go and see Draco; he'd be able to comfort him.

At the manor, the euphoria Draco had experienced was starting to wear off. He had let himself slip into this vicious cycle and he didn't know the way out. Just before he could do anything, a gentle knock sounded at his bedroom door. He quickly hid the blade and his cut, and opened it. Then all at once his emotions came flooding back. There, stood the only person who could comfort him, but he wouldn't reveal what he'd done. They embraced each other for a long while before either of them spoke.

"What are you doing here?"

"Nightmares." Draco brushed the hair from Harry's eyes and led him towards the bed. They lay down beside one another, staring at the ceiling above. Draco was the first to turn and face Harry, taking in how all his different features looked. This helped him feel connected to the world, to keep the demons at bay. Harry turned over and kissed Draco. It wasn't a deep kiss, but it still held as much emotion. They lay in each other's arms until they drifted off.

When the sun rose a few hours later, it was to Draco's horror to find the bed beside him empty. He immediately imagined the worst; that Harry didn't care for him as much as he thought, that he'd gone home before they could speak. Then the door opened and in came Harry with a tray full of breakfast. Draco's heart stopped thundering in his chest. Why did he over react like that? He didn't know, but he was glad that he wasn't alone. Harry placed the tray in the middle of the bed and sat down. Draco moved it from the bed to the side table, confusing Harry in the process.

"Are you not hungry?"

"You know I am." A little grin crept onto Draco's face.

"But why aren't you eating it." Then Harry's eyes widened in realization.

"Because I'm hungry for you." Draco pulled Harry onto the bed so that he was lying down. Draco then straddled him, pinning him. His grey, steely eyes bore into him, whilst vibrant, green eyes stared back. Slowly lowering himself, Draco kissed Harry's neck, with the occasional nibble. He traced his jaw line and along his collar bone, then up to his mouth. Harry's lips tasted sweet, which only served to encourage him more. Harry leant into the kiss, only to be pushed back down by Draco, tongues dancing in the process. The brunette moaned when Draco tore his mouth away, only to feel it moments later on his throat. With every button that Draco undone, he kissed the flesh that had become exposed, making sure he went as slow as he could just to torture Harry. When the shirt was finally off, the blonde stayed still, taking in how his lover looked.

"Don't stop Draco." Harry groaned, "Please."

Draco complied with what Harry asked. He made his way to the hem of Harry's trousers and slowly pulled them down. Once he had removed them fully, he kissed from his foot up to his inner thigh. Harry's erection was apparent through the thin material. Draco placed his hand on it, whilst Harry moaned in pleasure.
"You like that, do you?" Draco continued to stroke Harry through his boxers.
"Yes" The brunette let out a hiss. He raised his hips and made to remove the one item of clothing that remained. Draco assisted Harry and marvelled at how his member looked. Hovering over the top, the blonde purposely directed his breath onto the flesh that was becoming harder by the second.

After a short while, the blonde had decided that he had kept his lover waiting long enough. He teasingly flicked his tongue so it just made contact, all the while never taking his eyes off of Harry's face. When he was shot a glare, he knew it was time to stop messing about and get down to business.

Draco slowly lowered his head and took in as much of Harry as he could. He stayed like that for a moment before moving again. As he worked Harry's member in his mouth, he started to play with his balls. Every now and then he would give them a quick suck before returning to the main task.

It wasn't long before Harry's moans were increasing in frequency and volume. Draco knew it wasn't long now before the brunette climaxed, which served him to slow down to make the moment last longer.

"Draco...please." Harry moaned in between breaths. "I'm so close." At that moment, he reached his peak and came in Draco's mouth. The blonde swallowed every last drop before coming back up and kissing Harry passionately.

The sun was high in the sky beating down on everything in sight, which included both Draco and Harry. After their morning fun, Draco split his breakfast with his lover. They then proceeded to the Malfoy gardens, wandering through the endless amount of flowers planted there. The way Harry looked, amazed and impressed, gave Draco a sense of fulfilment. But he knew that would only be temporary. Once they parted, even just for the night, the demons would creep back in, slowly draining him of all emotion. For now however, he decided that he would bask in the joy he felt.

Once they had reached the center of the garden, Draco pulled out his wand and muttered a spell Harry had never heard of. Seemingly out of nowhere, a giant oak tree appeared, blocking out the ever increasing heat of the sun. Harry felt a hand grab his before being led towards the lowest branch.

"Come on." Draco tugged at him when he noticed Harry wasn't sure what they were doing. "The view up here is like nothing you will ever experience again." Harry complied and they climbed the tree together until all the branches were beneath them.

Draco hadn't lied. The view was breath-taking. All around them they could see the different plants and wildlife that lived in them. Harry was lost for words; nothing could ever come close to this experience.
"I've never bought anyone up here before. My father actually wanted to destroy the tree. He said it made the gardens look untidy. I cast an invisibility charm on it when he went away for some time."
"And he believed it was gone?" Harry wasn't quite sure how the great Lucius Malfoy would fall for such an obvious trick.

"I told him mother and I used magic to destroy it and that explained why there was no stump. She was in on what I did, but even if I thought she'd tell father, I knew he wouldn't be able to do anything." That look of cunningness appeared on Draco's face. "I made sure that only I could activate and deactivate the charm." Harry was awestruck. He didn't know that was possible.
"Come here you clever bastard." Draco climbed through the tree to where Harry was perched. "It's my turn to devour you." Harry leant in and kissed Draco who eagerly responded. As Harry began to unbutton Draco's shirt, the ferret started to protest. As much as he loved what Harry was going to do, he hadn't cast a glamour charm on his arm and the last thing he wanted was to explain the origin of the cut. Draco pushed Harry away and started to descend the tree. He could hear the other call after him, asking what he'd done wrong, but Malfoy kept running back to the manor.

Once in the safety of his section, the west wing, he cast a charm so that Harry couldn't follow. He knew that his actions probably cost him their relationship, but that was the least of his worries. After spending years compartmentalising his emotions, Draco found it difficult to feel anything.
The moments leading up to Lord Voldemort's downfall found Draco pushing aside his emotions more frequently. He knew the risk of showing any feelings when the Dark Lord was present, so he put what he had already done throughout his life into greater practice. But with Voldemort gone, Draco's ability to turn the emotional switch back on had seemingly been destroyed along with the Dark Lord.
The only exception to this was the great Harry Potter. When his then arch nemesis showed him compassion, something within him clicked and allowed him to feel. However, when Harry left, he also took the emotions with him, leaving Draco feeling empty.

That was what Draco feared the most; that he may never learn how to feel anything again. He was dependent on Harry to allow him this luxury. That was why he harmed himself. It was the only way he knew how to bring upon any sense of feeling without relying upon someone else.

Harry stayed in the tree, bewildered as to why Draco would act such a way. He could tell something wasn't right, but nothing came to mind that made much sense. In the end, he thought that maybe the ferret was just scared of being a submissive.

Before nightfall arrived, Harry descended the tree and wandered back to the manor. Lucius and Narcissa were currently travelling, so there was an eerie silence throughout the building. He made his way to the main floo in the hallway and stepped through to his home of 12 Grimmauld Place.

Draco had heard the sound of the floo from behind the door that led onto the wing. Although he wanted to escape the situation, he had to listen out in case Harry called out to him. Not that he would've answered. When he didn't, Draco felt conflicted. The man probably didn't know what to say, but it also made the blonde think that his lover didn't care enough to stay and try to talk.

He took down the spell and dragged himself to the kitchen. It wasn't too far, but the journey seemed endless. Draco's mind was racing, thoughts coming and going too quickly for him to make sense of them. They should have filled him with different emotions; upset, anger, regret. But he felt nothing.

When he reached the kitchen, it was like he was in a trance, his actions programmed into his subconscious mind. Throughout his life, he had spent many days and nights in this part of the manor. At the age of 11, when his Hogwarts letter arrived, it was the place of celebration, even though the letter was expected. When he passed his OWLs and then his NEWTs it was filled with house elves making enough food to keep the guests happy. When the war ended a few years ago, it housed drunken teenagers.

It started out as a party to finally free themselves. Narcissa and Lucius went away to escape imprisonment in Azkaban. Draco gathered a few of his friends, who brought a plus one. Soon enough, the place was filled with bodies and the party was underway. A few hours in saw Draco consuming most of the alcohol and becoming a mess on the floor. It was noticeable at first, but after a while everyone else ended up in just as worse a state as he was in. The morning wasn't pleasant in the slightest. Banging headaches and rubbish strewn all over the floors was not a welcome combination.

That was the day when Draco started down this awful path. He spent his days drinking himself into an unconscious state. Before he was able to do permanent damage and become addicted to drowning himself, Harry walked into his life and set him straight. Or at least that's what he boy wonder thought. He may have fixed the ferret temporarily, but Draco was never freed from his demons and just substituted one habit for another.

Suddenly, Draco broke out of his trance and stopped remembering times of past. He found himself holding a knife, one of the sharpest ones in the draw. A cool liquid seeped between his toes, an occasional drop on the top of his foot. He dropped his head forward and saw blood pooled at his feet. He suddenly felt light headed and held himself up on the side. That was when a sharp pain shot through his arm, the source of which was a gash. The blood coming out was significant and Draco knew he had to stop it or he'd faint and bleed out.

With all the strength he could muster, he forced himself over to the towel hooked on a cupboard door. Tying it around the wound, he screamed out in pain. Draco then went to find his wand, back in his bedroom. Along his way, he had to stop and regain his balance, but he eventually made it back to his room. He threw himself at his side table, grabbing his wand and cast Vulnera Sanentur at the wound, uttering the charm three times. Once he had done so, the world turned to black.

A couple weeks had passed since that night in the kitchen. The wound had scarred and would very infrequently twinge with pain. Draco didn't bother to clean the towel, instead he incinerated it. When he went to the kitchen the next morning, there were no signs of the event that had occurred only hours before. None of the elves spoke of the matter, something that pleased Draco.

He had deteriorated since then, refusing any contact with the outside world, including Harry. It wasn't healthy and he knew that, but having to put himself through so much pain to feel alive; there was no way he was going to put that on someone else.

The voices in his head were getting louder and his ability to feel on his own was dwindling. More and more often he found himself relying on self-inflicted pain to get his feelings to surface. Each time the euphoria faded faster and he found himself going to great lengths to make it last. He increasingly experienced himself becoming faint due to the blood loss. At times, he debated whether he should just allow himself to pass out and bleed to death. He wouldn't feel how slow it was. It'd be like falling asleep, only permanently.

He wasn't that desperate enough just yet. There was a tiny part deep within that held a slither of hope that sometime soon he'd start to see the light in a time of great darkness. Draco knew that it would soon dissipate and he'd quickly resort to the most extreme solution. But he tried to hold on as best he could.

Harry was making himself a snack before heading into a Muggle town with Ron. They were going on a lad's night out, something Harry had wanted his friend to experience for a while now. The fire in the next room roared to life. It was odd, seen as he had agreed to meet Ron at the Burrow, but that man had a habit of changing the meeting place to here.

What Harry saw when he walked into the living room was far from what he expected. Draco was stood in front of the fire, platinum blonde hair in his face, bags under his eyes. If Harry was going to be polite about it, his partner looked terrible.

His immediate instinct was to run up to him and embrace him, but he was rooted to the floor, bewildered as to how Draco could let himself get into such a state.

"Wait here." Harry pointed to an armchair, then ran upstairs to the bathroom. He turned on the taps and started running the man a bath. He filled it with so much bubble solution, that it didn't look like there was any water underneath the white, scented mountain. Once it had filled, he went and fetched Draco from downstairs. He hadn't moved, and for a moment Harry wondered if there was any life in him.

When the blonde just stood there showing no hint of getting in the water hidden under the thousands of bubbles, Harry took it upon himself to undress him. He started at the bottom with his shoes and socks. Draco stepped out of his trouser and underwear once they were pulled to the floor. As Harry started to unbutton his shirt, he noticed that his eyes lit up in shock. It was an odd reaction, but he carried on. As the shirt fell to the floor, he suddenly realised why.

His pale skin was smooth and generally unmarked, but his left arm was covered in cuts that were at least a couple days old. The red marking stood out. Harry also noticed the scars from healed wounds. Some were faint, others were raised and very discernible.

He didn't know why Draco had done this and it greatly upset him. The brunette slowly approached his lover and wrapped him in his arms. Although he could no longer see the marks, the mental image very quickly burnt itself into Harry's memory. He started to sob and held onto Draco tighter. He could only imagine the pain his lover could be going through to do this to himself. Even then, what he thought wouldn't have been anywhere close.

Harry moved away from the embrace, but his hands lingered on Draco's arms, giving him a comforting stroke. He helped the ferret into the bath and then pulled himself to the fireplace. He had to let Ron know that they'd have to rearrange.

It had been a while since Harry had heard from his lover. They had been spending a lot more time together than usual, but all of a sudden, Draco stopped contact. Curiosity and worry getting the better of him, Harry decided he would go and check he was all right.

Arriving at the manor, he sensed a change in the air. Putting that thought aside, he continued up the path to the main door of the west wing, which was Draco's part of the house. It was unlike him to cut off contact without telling someone why. Then he noticed the change in the air around him again, it was like the magic had nowhere to go. Feeling slightly uneasy about this, Harry pressed on.

He made his way to the bedroom; it was the only place he could think that the ferret would be. He rarely occupied his study, now that he had nothing to study and didn't work. Before he opened the door, he froze. No matter how hard he tried, he couldn't move. It was as if some unknown force didn't want him to enter, wanted to protect him from whatever was enclosed in those four walls. Eventually the force grew weaker and Harry made his way. It was at that moment when he opened the door, he realised why he was being held back.

Draco was hanging from one of the bed posters. There was blood on the floor from where he had opened his wrists one final time, the crimson liquid dripping from his fingertips. There was no stool, but Harry figured he had used some sort of spell to hold himself up until he was ready. There was a piece of paper on the end of the bed covered in tear stains. It read:

"To whomever reads this. I'm sorry you had to be the one to find me, but someone had to. I have a favour to ask of you. In the top draw in my bedside table, there are several letters. If you could deliver these to the intended recipients, I will be forever grateful. They will explain everything. I'm sorry it had to be this way."

Harry hadn't realised he'd made his way to the draw until he saw his name on the first letter. He picked up the rest. There weren't many, but the others were addressed to his parents, his personal house elf and a few of his close friends. As he turned over the letter to open it, his hands shook. Everything felt so surreal. Only a couple weeks ago had they been growing closer after Draco's unexpected arrival at Grimmauld Place, he could never have imagined that it would all end so suddenly.

He left the letters for his parents and elf on the table with the pile of the unread post, mailed the rest before floo calling St Mungos. The distraught brunette travelled back to his former lover's room and sat at the dressing table. Taking out his letter from his pocket, he broke down.

As far as he was concerned, it was his fault that Draco was dead. He hadn't done enough to help him, even when he knew how much pain he was in. He could have saved him. That wasn't true, but that's what Harry believed.

Just as he worked up the courage to open the letter, healers arrived to retrieve the body. One of them noticed Harry sat out the way and went over to ask if he knew about why this may have occurred. He shook his head automatically, tears rolling down his cheeks. The healer placed her hand on Harry's arm and guided him out of the room. He closed his eyes to stop the tears. When they opened, the surroundings before him had changed entirely. He was in the relative's room at St Mungos.

The healer who had brought him here appeared through the door, a hot drink in her hands. She handed it to Harry who was still trying to process what had happened, why it happened. He was still holding the letter firmly in his left hand. He wasn't sure he could cope with facing the reality, but if he wanted to understand Draco's reasoning, then the letter was his only hope at having his questions answered.

Before he turned it over to break the seal and retrieve the contents, Harry stared at his name etched upon the envelope. Shaking himself from his daydreams, he opened the envelope and took out the three pieces of parchment that were folded up inside.

"I don't know where to start. If you're reading this, then I'm gone, no longer part of this physical world. You've probably got a lot of questions running through your head, and I'm sorry to say that I likely won't answer them all, if any. If things could have been different, turned out better, please believe me they would have.

You'll never understand how I truly felt and why it drove me to such a measure, but I guess that's a good thing. I would never wish this upon anyone, be it enemy or lover. I will try to make it clear, but I can't promise anything.

It all started at the end of the war. Well, the roots go way back when I was taught to shut off my emotions, especially fear and weakness, when in the company of Voldemort. It became such a norm for me that I lost sense of who I was. My being was moulded into this heartless creature who could carry out any command set upon him by the Dark Lord. I may have failed my only task, but that taught me to get a better hold of my emotions.

After Voldemort's downfall, I had no need to hide my feelings, shut them away from myself and everyone around me. But the action had become so engrained in me, it was tied to my very soul. I couldn't unlearn what I had been taught to do all my life. This led to me feeling nothing at all. At times that would be great, but it interfered with my everyday life, something which needed me to feel.

When you found me in a drunken stupor, I was trying to make myself so intoxicated that I could no longer remember what it was like to feel numb. You stopped me from drinking myself to an early grave, but my wounds could not be healed. My mind was broken with no way of fixing it. You only delayed the inevitable; my death. In no way am I blaming you here, it was all my fault.

In those first few months, I thought that maybe I was getting better, that I was recovering from one of my lowest points and from this inability to feel. I was wrong, so very wrong. Before too long, I noticed that when you weren't around, I was numb. I fought on and tried my damnedest to push on through, to ignore the voices in my head. It all became too much, which was when I made the decision that would lead me down the darkest road anyone could experience.

I quickly learned that harming myself freed my emotions. It was exhilarating to finally be able to feel something without relying on another person, namely you. When we were together, the tormenting demons were held at bay, like you were some sort of Patronus charm. They were completely obliterated, albeit temporarily, when we had sex. That's the one thing I'll miss, feeling your body against mine, your moans in my ear. That's if you can miss things in death, of course.

Although I was able to feel at certain times, I could never live, merely exist. I was dependent on you and I couldn't drag you down, I would hate myself even more if I put you through that pain. The only way to permanently rid myself of the mental torment and allow you to live your life, was to end mine. To destroy the demons, I had to destroy myself.

Harry, I am thankful for everything you did, the love you showed me. We may not have gotten off on the best of terms, but I'm grateful for the limited time we were close to each other. Know that I love you and I'm sorry I did this.

I had no other bearable choice.

Yours,

Draco."

Harry was oblivious to the world around him. He hadn't noticed his two lifelong friends, Ron and Hermione, enter the room. He kept reading the letter over and over, trying so desperately to understand what Draco had gone through. The parchment was taken from him after a while and replaced in the envelope.

The boy felt lost. There were so many emotions he was experiencing, that it overwhelmed him to the point where he blocked them out. It was this emptiness that he imagined Draco had been living with. If it wasn't for the support of his friends, Harry would have been afraid that he'd end up down the same route.

People think the Muggle and magical world are very different. The truth is, they're quite similar, only Muggles are none the wiser about magic. At least some of them anyway. We all face the same problems, and in the end, we all wind up dead.