Harry & Draco: The Real Story

Disclaimer: I still own nothing.

Harry lay on the couch, trying to ignore the incessant crying of the infant in its' cradle. He did not know how long he had been lying there, and only after the child's wails became impossible to pretend it wasn't his child screaming did he force himself up. Bleary eyed, he mechanically picked up his squalling son and automatically began to soothe him.

The house was littered with dirty laundry and empty dishes. Harry could not find the energy to cook or even to magic something up, and had been relying on take out to keep himself and Draco fed. Harry didn't want to leave the house, and kept putting things off. Now there was a gas notice on the table. The money was there to pay it, but Harry couldn't bring himself to do it.

Patting the baby on the back, he walked back and forth across the small room in a daze. How long had it been since he'd had more than a few hours sleep? His life had condensed to this house, this whining child. He was tired, more tired than he had ever been in his life. As clutter piled up around him, he simply stepped over it, or kicked it into a corner. The diaper pail was full and he had to sanitize the bottles again.

Harry went to the kitchen and ran warm water over a bottle. Little Severus, named for his godfather, began to scream again. Balancing the child on his left arm, he silently prayed for Draco to come home, for someone to visit, just so he could give Severus to someone else for an hour. After what seemed like days to him, the formula was warm and he went back to the living room and sat down on a pile of laundry in the rocking chair. Severus drank his bottle greedily, and Harry let his mind wander.

He was still sitting there, Severus having gone to sleep in his father's arms, when Draco came home. He was tired, hungry, and walking into the disaster of their apartment set his teeth on edge. He saw Harry sitting, the lights out, with the baby.

"Is that what you did all day?" he asked, a bitter note in his voice, flicking on the switch. "Would it kill you to pick up around here?"

Harry looked at him with dull eyes. Then he shrugged and went back to staring at the wall. Draco threw his jacket on the pile in the hall and made his way to the kitchen.

"Harry? There's nothing on for dinner," he called. "What are you making?"

"I don't know. What did you want?" Harry asked, forcing himself out of the chair. He put Severus back in his bassinet and went into the kitchen. Draco was looking through the empty cupboards.

"I would have liked fish and chips, but we don't have it. When was the last time you went shopping?" he asked, his voice tight.

"Last week, no, the week before." Harry replied, opening the fridge. He pulled out a half wilted head of lettuce and a cucumber. "I'll make you a salad, I guess."

Draco slammed the cupboard door shut. "I don't want salad! What kind of meal is that?"

Severus woke up, startled by his father's voice. Harry put down the knife in his hand and went to pick the child up. Draco followed him, and his eyes fell on the gas notice. Reading it quickly, his face flushed.

"Did you pay this?" he asked Harry. Harry shook his head and continued to croon softly to the baby.

"It says they're going to shut the gas off, Harry. Did you notice it was winter out there?"

Harry said nothing, but tears began to well in his eyes.

"Oh, don't cry!" Draco said, exasperated. "That's all you ever do anymore! I can't even talk to you. What's wrong with you, Harry?"

Harry shook his head, not being able to speak. Severus felt his father's confusion and began to wail harder. As Harry walked back and forth, the child crying, Draco felt his anger rising.

"Fine!" he snapped, heading upstairs to the bathroom. "I'm going to take a shower. I guess it's too much to expect that I have clean clothes somewhere?" he asked, his voice dripping with sarcasm.

Harry watched him go through blurred eyes. Draco didn't understand, no one did. Harry felt trapped, trapped by this small person who made constant demands on him. He didn't understand himself what was wrong, how could he explain it to Draco? He had dreamed of being an Auror, now he was tied to this place, this child. He had been falling, day by day, into an ever smaller circle where all that mattered was that Severus was taken care of. Even doing magic was too much work. Harry himself had not showered in over a week. His hair was matted and he had worn the same track pants for five days. He couldn't be bothered to change, to get cleaned up. It just didn't seem to matter anymore. His scar from the Cesarean section still hurt. All he wanted to do was sleep. Sleep let you be alive but unconscious, and that was what Harry wanted.

In the beginning Draco had been more helpful. But as the novelty of having a new baby wore off, Draco began to resent the changes in Harry. When he wanted to make love, Harry would roll over and sigh, that terrible sigh that told Draco he didn't care what he did. In fact, Harry had begun to look at it as another chore, something else he didn't have the energy or inclination to do.

Severus calmed down and Harry kicked some clutter out of the way in the kitchen, flinging the baby's blanket onto the floor. He put Severus down with some toys and trance like went back to preparing dinner. Paying more attention to the child than what he was doing, he managed to slice his hand with the knife. Sighing, he wrapped it up in a towel and held his hand up, waiting for the bleeding to stop. With his other hand he rummaged about the kitchen drawer until he found his wand. It had been a few days since he'd used it. He had to think hard about the spell he wanted. After a moment his brow unfurrowed, and the waved the wand. The knife began to finish his work.

Draco came out of the bathroom, wrapped in a towel. He couldn't find his robe in the piles of clothes in the bedroom. Sighing, he pulled on an old pair of jeans. Going downstairs, he went into the kitchen and found Harry still holding his hand up.

"Now what have you done?" he asked, feeling frustrated. This was not his Harry. His Harry was gentle and considerate, not this robot that went through his life in a fog.

"The knife slipped." Harry said simply.

"Oh, shit," Draco said, unwrapping the towel. He looked at the cut and turned on the tap. Rinsing off the blood, he re-wrapped it and went rummaging through cupboards, looking for the remedy he needed. Once he found it, he treated the injury, and seeing the dull pain in Harry's eyes, kissed the hand gently. Harry felt overwhelmed by this tenderness, and broke down. Hot tears slipped down his cheeks, and he hid his face in his hands. Draco wrapped his arms around him, and let him cry.

"Harry, Harry," he murmured softly. "You have to tell me what's wrong? Are you sick?"

"No!" Harry choked out. "I don't know what's wrong with me. I have you and Severus, and I should be happy, but I'm not. And I don't know why."

"You need to do more, Harry," Draco said gently, water beads dripping from his white blond hair on to Harry's dark head. "You need to snap out of this. It's not good for you or Severus."

"I'll try," Harry told him, wiping his eyes with the back of his hand.