Title: Something Blue
Rating: R
Summary: After the war completely breaks Harry down, can Draco help piece him back together again?
Spoilers: up through HBP
Warnings: Slash, suicide attempt
Disclaimer: Do you see groupies following me around begging for my signature? No. Therefore we can rule out the possibility of me being a famous singer, actor or JK Rowling.
Author's Note: As an American, I cannot attest to the conditions in a British psychiatric hospital, but everything I've written about has been seen/experienced first hand.
Chapter One
All alone in space and time,
There's nothing here, but what here's mine,
Something borrowed, something blue,
Every me and every you,
Every me and every you
-Placebo, Every You Every Me
-
Harry Potter could not cope. That was the main reason he had ended up at the London Psychiatric Hospital. Well, that, and his suicide attempt the week before. The wounds on his wrists hadn't quite healed up yet, and where they had, an ugly purple scar began to appear from underneath the scabs. His fingers traced over the jagged lines, picking at the clotted blood as they went.
"Mr. Potter?"
"Yes?"
"Have you even been listening to what I've been saying?" the social worker asked, breaking him out of his reverie. "I've been working with you this whole week and at each meeting you act like you're absorbed in some other world. I wonder if you've even made any progress, but since you have no insurance and have surpassed the amount that your friends have put together for you, I'm pressed to discharge you."
Harry cast his eyes downwards, avoiding her hazel stare. "So I should just go pack my bags?"
"You're going to have to stay one more night. You'll need to go over some paperwork with the attending psychiatrist and myself, but then you'll be free to go. You'll also need someone to come pick you up."
"That won't be necessary, I'll just take the Underground. It would be more convenient for me anyways."
"We need to be sure you have a safe way home - either by car or with a friend or relative. You should actually head out and call now - phone time is almost over."
The door swung shut and Harry shuffled into the ward's common room. A few other men were situated there, most of them in pajamas or sloppily dressed in casual clothing. Only one man appeared put together, and he stood by the bookshelf organizing and reorganizing them.
"Hello, Harry. A man in medical scrubs, stepped out of the nursing station. "How'd your meeting with Mrs. Robinson go?"
"As good as can be expected I supposed. I'm leaving tomorrow. I just need to call a friend to pick me up."
"Well, you can take the last phone on the far end, but you'll have to make it a quick call, phone time is over in fifteen minutes."
-
The conversation started abruptly, with no traditional salutations.
"Hermione, I need you to come pick me up," Harry barked into the handset of the pay phone.
Hermione's voice wavered as she responded, "They're just letting you go? You've only been there a week and last time we talked you were still on suicide watch. It just doesn't make sense. You didn't, you know, do something to them did you?"
Harry drew a heavy sigh. "No, they released me of their own will, thank you very much. They can't keep me here anymore. I have no insurance and they money you pooled together for me has run out."
Another sigh wafted through the phone, this time from Hermione. "You're one of the richest wizards in London and yet you refuse to pay the money to take care of yourself! It's like you're glad to get of there, whether you're better or not."
"Of course I'm glad to get out, regardless of whether I'm 'better' or not. It's like prison in here, Hermione. It's not like in that movie you like, what's it called - Interrupted Girl or something like that. It's worse. It's cinder block walls and hard cots. They take away everything. Hell, they even take away your shoelaces. "
"You know what? Fine, I'll pick you up even though I think it's against your best interests. I just need you to know you're upsetting me."
"So you'll come? Tomorrow, nine o'clock, male unit B. I'll be waiting for you in the front hall," he said his voice laced with hope.
"I'm coming,."
"Thanks."
So, I'll see you tomorrow. I love you."
"I love you too. Bye," he intoned flatly.
-
The scratchy, standard issue white sheets, rubbed against Harry's skin as he tossed and turned that night. Sleep eluded him; a ghost gliding just beyond reach. Instead he picked at his scabbed over wounds, peeling back the dried blood revealing raw, red tissue. Occasionally, he would go too far, and a stream of blood would eek forth, pooling in ruby beads on his skin. He liked the pain of it - not because he was masochistic, but because it was the one thing that proved he was alive.
As dawn broke, he finally settled into a troubled sleep.
-
Hermione drove up in a Ministry issue car - nondescript and black except for the thick aura of magic around it which was so strong that even Muggles were put off by the sensation. She slid out from the back seat dressed in a prim and proper pantsuit, thanking the driver as she went. Striding up to the door , she pressed a button and waited for an orderly to open the door. When one did, she was shocked by the starkness of the room.
"Step inside please - I need to close the door, there's too high a risk of elopement to keep it open for more than a few seconds," the orderly grumbled.
"Elopement?"
"When a patient tries to run away."
As she stepped further into the entryway, she caught a glimpse of the common room. One man was writing in a journal in red marker, scribbling "FUCK" all over the page. Another alphabetized the books on the shelves, straightening them until the spines all lined up evenly. At the table, one man was clutching his face in his hands and mumbling into his palms. The rest of the patients, including Harry, were lined up in front of the nurse's station, waiting for their daily medications. As Harry got to the front of the line, a cup of pills was emptied into his hand and he downed them with a swig of water. He opened his mouth, sticking out his tongue for the nurse and was free to go.
"Harry!" Hermione cried as he entered the hallway.
He turned sharply at her voice and stood stock still as she ran up to envelope him in a hug. His arms were pinned to his sides and he made no move to return her embrace.
"'Lo Hermione," he said as soon as he was able to breathe again.
She was taken aback with the iciness that dripped from the words, and internally she worried that maybe this hadn't been in his best interests at all, but maybe just an attempt to ease her own mind. She yanked herself out of those thoughts however, instead reassuring herself that this was what Harry needed. He was troubled, especially since the end of the war. He had never told her all that he'd seen or done only that he had killed Voldemort and watched one of his best friends die in the same battle. There was so much she didn't know about him anymore, so much he refused to tell her. Whenever she pressured him into talking, he responded with a different answer: "I don't want to relive it," "You really don't want to know," "It would hurt you too much." So she never learned why Ron was dead or why Harry was in shambles. Everything was broken now, she realized: her friends, her engagement, the wizarding world, life as a whole.
"Where are your bags?"
"In my room. I wasn't expecting you quite so early, but I can go grab them."
"Let me help you."
Harry scowled. "No visitors in the patients' rooms. No offense, it's just policy."
"Oh, okay. Well, I'll just wait out here then." She shifted her weight from foot to foot, all the while staring at the grayish tiles that lined the floor. She kicked some invisible dirt around and sighed. The air was oppressive and tasted stale, with a hint of antiseptic.
Harry walked back into the hall, a duffel bag slung over his shoulder. "Ready to head out? God knows I am." There was a definite bitter edge to his voice and there was a harshness directed towards his friend.
"Come on then."
Leaving the unit, not a word passed between the two until they reached the car. Harry went in first, then Hermione slid in.
With a quick wave of her wand magic encircled the back half of the car, keeping in any sound. The air was tight with unspoken words.
"What has gotten into you? You acted like I was Lucius Malfoy when you greeted me five minutes ago!" Hermione screeched.
"Don't say that." He gritted his teeth as he said it and let his eyes filled with fury.
"Say what? That you've become a complete and utter bastard? That I can't bear the way you've been treating me? That you've never told me a thing about the war?"
"Don't say that name."
"Lucius, Lucius, Lucius," she taunted, eager to get some sort of rise out of Harry.
"I said don't say that name!" He bellowed. Raw magic was crackled in the air as little bolts of lightning jumped from his fingers.
"Why? Did he do something to you during the war?"
"I murdered him."
Hermione's mouth formed an 'o' but no sound came out.
Harry continued his rant. Apparently once started, it was like the breaking of the dam. "You want to hear about the war? Fine, I'll tell you about the war. Lucius Malfoy took me captive and made me watch as he tortured Ron to death. Not just with crucio but by Muggle means as well. By the end I was spattered in blood and resigned to my own death. Draco Malfoy is the only reason I'm alive now. He was supposed to be guarding me but he fell asleep on his watch. I'm still not sure if it was an accident or not; I haven't seen him since. But I snuck into Lucius's room and killed him in his sleep. I killed him in cold blood. Despite what had happened it was still murder, and murder of the worst kind at that. There, are you happy now?"
Hermione had drawn her knees up to her chest and was sobbing into her palms. Harry remained in his seat, staring blankly at the driver in front of him.