Title: I Think I Saw You in My Sleep
Summary: Harry's gone. But Draco knows he'll come back. He just has to.
Disclaimer: I do not own anything. All characters belong to J.K. Rowling and the title is from "Such Small Hands" by La Dispute. It's a great song and the lyrics are really poetic.
Warning: Character deaths, suicidal thoughts
A/N: I tried to make it as angsty I could... And I kind of rushed the ending a bit. Sorry about that. Also, I'm not quite sure what the difference between the genres "angst" and "drama" are. I mean, I sort of have an idea but I don't at the same time...
Draco sits there, staring outside the window with unfocused eyes. His gaze keeps flickering to a young couple standing beside a beautiful tree, smiling and talking. When he's not looking at them, he's looking at a young man who sits on the steps of an apartment with a cigarette between his lips.
He always sits there, in this chair of his. He always watches the same couple, and the same man with the cigarette. He doesn't do anything else, really. And he hardly eats or moves. It's been a while since he's even spoke. The last time he had said anything was when Pansy came to visit. That had been months ago. Nobody had come since. He still waited, though. Harry would soon come through the door and hug him and kiss him and everything would be alright again. But it never happened.
Then someone was opening the door. He turned his head slightly, looking towards the noise.
"Draco? Draco -" It was Hermione Granger. Harry's best friend. If she was here, maybe Harry was behind her. Maybe they were planning to surprise him. He smiled.
"Her-Hermione," he stuttered. His voice was scratchy from lack of use. "Good to see you."
"What happened to you! Pansy said you were alright - oh god, Draco..."
He didn't know what all of her fussing was about. He felt fine. In fact, he felt very healthy and confident about himself. Sure, he had lost a lot of pounds but that only meant he'd look even better for Harry when he came back. But he wasn't alright. Dark circles were under his eyes and his blonde hair was long and oily. His eyes weren't filled with happiness anymore, but a deep lack of emotion. His arms were bony and unsmooth. The clothes he wore were filthy, since he hadn't exactly changed his clothing in a very long time. He just sat in that chair. It seemed as if one touch could break him.
"You have to eat." She groaned. "God, you have to eat."
He heard her footsteps walking away towards the general area of the kitchen. There was dust everywhere, but other than that it was clean. The sound of the fridge opening reached his ears and the sound of cupboards flying open and closing loudly did too. He knew there was really nothing left to eat. The only things that kept him alive now were the salted crackers he stored under the coffee table and the dirty tap water. Sometimes he didn't eat or drink anything for days. But he always heard Harry's voice telling him to move and eat. Every time he heard it, he would listen. Sometimes he wouldn't, because if he didn't then Harry's voice would continue to yell at him. Harry yelling at him was better than nothing at all.
"What have you been doing here! Rotting alone? Dying?" Hermione's voice was harsh in his ears. He didn't want to hear her voice right now. "Harry's not coming back, Draco! You've got to stop this - this whatever it is!"
Draco's eyes snapped to her and he was suddenly angry. Furious, even. Of course Harry was going to come back! He was just going to shop for a few items and he'd be back when he was finished. Today of course they probably just needed more items than usual. Hermione was the one who was insane, obviously.
"He's coming back," he tried to yell, but it came out scratchy and quiet. "He has to."
Hermione's gentle brown eyes were wet now, tears running down her delicate face. She sniffled and choked on her own breath as she continued speaking. "Draco, he's dead," she said. "Harry won't come back -"
"Yes he will!"
Draco's anger seemed to fuel his voice. She looked at him with sad and disapproving eyes. It hurt. Draco was hurting inside and outside and she was looking at him like she was disappointed in what he'd become. What had he become? He didn't know the answer to anything anymore. He was still Draco, but it felt like a very large piece of him was gone.
"You've got to stop doing this to yourself. I'm not leaving this house until you are healthy - damn it, Draco Malfoy, it's been a year!"
"I sent owls telling you I was fine."
And he did. It felt like something Harry would've wanted him to do, so he did. He and the Weasley's - including Hermione - had grown close since Harry and he had started dating. It was something none of them had ever expected, but it did happen and they were all glad for it. So he of course had to inform them all that he was doing fine and that he was living in France with a busy job, so that was a reasonable enough excuse as to why he never visited them anymore. He'd lied, of course. But not to Hermione. He'd told her that he was still living in he and Harry's flat, refusing to move out. He had felt guilty lying to the rest of everyone, though. They all shared common interests, so maybe that was how they'd become friends. Ron shared his interest in chess, Hermione and him loved to read, the twins and him loved to annoy people, and Ginny and him had an interest in being jealous of each other. Ginny, because Draco had what she'd always wanted and Draco, because Ginny had always been closer to Harry, even then. And Molly Weasley reminded him of his own mother, except for the constant mollycoddling. Narcissa Malfoy may have had seemed like an unlikable kind of person, being married to a Death Eater and all, but she was wonderful and kind just like a mother should be. Draco missed her.
"Listen to me!" said Hermione in a voice that bordered on hysterical. "You've got to move on, alright? Just - forget about him! Please! Look at what you're doing to yourself, Draco. You're a mess! If you really love Harry, you have to eat and be healthy and move on!"
Did she really care about him? He wanted to believe so. He remembered the first time they had shared a civil conversation. It was about Harry. She asked him if he really did love him. And he answered that he did. Harry joined them a couple of minutes later, eyes bright and a glowing smile on his face. Hermione had been mostly ignored for the rest of the time they sat there. He and Harry shared secret smiles and short kisses as she rambled on about what Ron had done the previous night.
"Did you love Harry?" she suddenly asked in a small soft voice, like she had just remembered that memory too.
"I still do," he replied. She sighed heavily. "Hermione, nothing's going to change."
"It has to! We have to fix you."
He wondered what she meant. He wasn't broken. If he wasn't broken, then he couldn't be fixed. It was that simple. And Draco really still loved Harry. He doesn't think that he'd ever stop loving him. And when he came back, he could tell him that. In his head, he told Harry that he loved him. And in his head, Harry said it back. Then, he said that he should listen to Hermione. Draco shook his head. I won't, he thought. She says to move on. I won't move on. Harry kept telling him that he should.
"I won't listen to you," he said.
She sighed again. "What have you been eating, Draco?"
He moved his body, reaching towards the small coffee table a few ways beside him. Every move he made and every breath he took made him feel as if he really was breaking apart. He felt Hermione's eyes follow his movements. The packet of salted crackers was light in his hands, since it only held two crackers. She took one and held it up to his mouth. He took a small bite, his appetite missing.
"Eat," she ordered. He chewed it slowly and finally swallowed, not wanting to make Hermione angrier than she looked now.
Draco remembers the first time Harry took him out to dinner. It was at a fancy Italian restaurant. The food had been lovely and delicious, filling them both. They had talked about the future and what they'd do after they graduated at Hogwarts. Harry had told him they'd both live in a flat in a quiet wizard residential area in muggle London. And he was right. They lived here peacefully with other wizards who knew who Harry Potter was, but didn't bother him. He liked his neighbors. They'd given Harry and him chocolates when they'd first moved in. He wondered what they'd be doing right now. Were they sleeping? Maybe they were watching an interesting movie on the telly. Whatever they were doing, he hoped they were happy.
Harry told them they'd adopt kids once. Neither of them really wanted to swallow a potion that made you able to have kids even though you really couldn't. But he knew Harry had been disappointed. It really would have been nice to have your own children, your own flesh and blood living and breathing. And Harry had always wanted a big family. They'd have grandchildren and live a peaceful and happy life. He wished that that's what was happening now.
He'd come home from work every day and Harry would greet him with a kiss and the usual "How was work, honey?" question. His son or daughter would come running at the voices and hug him tightly. Or maybe Harry would be the one to come home every day and he'd be doing the greeting and asking the questions. But their child would always be the same - giving him a hug and a big smile.
He missed Harry terribly.
"Eat the rest. I'm going to owl Ron and tell him where I am and you - oh - everyone's going to upset. You should know that."
He wanted to tell her that nobody was going to be upset. Nobody cared for him. Not even Harry. If he did, he'd be back now, kissing him and hugging him and making him feel better. Maybe Draco should just give up and believe Hermione. Harry wouldn't be coming back. Hermione left the room a moment later. Draco wanted to die at that moment, and be with Harry. It was so much better than dying slowly, painfully. When Hermione came back, he looked at her with desperate eyes. She didn't seem to understand.
"I want to die, Hermione," he whispered softly.
She froze, her hand in midair.
"You don't," she said forcefully. "I'm not losing you, too."
"You won't lose me. It will be for the best, Hermione."
"Stop! Draco, stop. You need to rest, okay?"
Draco didn't want to rest. He just wanted to die now. He didn't want to deal with life anymore. It had been so cruel to him already. What had he done to deserve this? Surely what he'd done when he was younger was forgiven? It should be, he thought. I want it to. I want life to be normal again.
But it never happened.
"Kill me, Hermione."
Those three words broke Hermione again. She kept shaking her head vigorously through her tears. "I won't!" she cried, kneeling down in front of Draco. "You have to live. For Harry. Please, Draco!"
For Harry? Harry Potter? His Harry? He wouldn't. Harry was the one who had caused this mess, all the pain and constant worry. It was all his fault. And Hermione wanted him to keep living because of Harry. But he already was! The only way he'd survived the past year was for Harry. He'd already been doing exactly what Hermione was telling him to do. But he wouldn't do it anymore.
"Kill me," he repeated, but this time more shakily. "Kill me or I'll kill myself!"
And she didn't. But he did.