A/N: Yeah, this is not fluff, so you may wish to look into a different story if that's what you're looking for. This is set several years after Hogwarts.

Warnings: Past Slash, Suicide

Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter.

Draco silently stared at his wand, and then at the book in front of him. It was so clearly laid out in the book, how to pronounce the syllables of the killing curse with just enough difference that it would allow you to kill yourself. The curse had been built in with one safety measure, that you could not kill yourself with it, in case wands got turned around. This book, a self-torture manual, had discovered how to change the spell the slightest bit to overcome that safety measure.

Draco looked at the wand, and then at the portrait in front of him. It showed him and Harry at Pansy and Blaise's wedding, one long year ago. Draco stood proudly, his arm slung casually around Harry while Blaise grinned at them from just barely inside the frame. Pansy beamed from behind them, the cascade of white brocades around her glowing so brightly one had the urge to shield their eyes.

One year ago, to this date. So many things had changed since then, that zenith of the tower of Harry and Draco's relationship. Harry would leave in the morning at around seven o'clock, cooking himself breakfast and leaving a little in the refrigerator for Draco to heat up when Draco woke at eight o'clock, needing to leave at eight thirty. Harry would head over to the ministry for work, and Draco would depart for his job at the Society of Pureblood Affairs. When they both got home, around six, they would cook dinner together, and eat it at the wooden dinner table in their flat.

Just after that wedding was when the arguments really started. They'd always had their own little disagreements, of course. All couples did, especially between a Slytherin and a Gryffindor, raised with such different sets of values. Harry highly disapproved of Draco's lack of cooperativeness in refusing to free the house elves at Malfoy manor, serving Narcissa Malfoy. Harry wished them to be replaced by a human nurse, and wouldn't listen to Draco's argument that his mother was in her last few years of life, so could they really not wait a few years to deprive her of the comfort she had known for so long? It had been such a small argument, one that Harry would bring up every time Draco started going on about how he had continuously given Harry everything he wanted. It wasn't until shortly after the wedding that Harry had started on it every time that he'd come home, until one of them stomped off.

Then Harry wanted flowers. Not the kind of flowers Draco would order through the mail and give to him, but flowers to be grown on the boxes outside the front windows. And of course, Draco left later in the morning, and had work less important than Harry's, so Draco should be the one to take care of these flowers Harry wanted.

That itself was an argument, but started a more significant argument-- Draco's work. Draco worked full-time at the Society of Pureblood Affairs, a paying organization devoted to helping purebloods adjust to their new lives now that Voldemort, and for many, the security of Voldemort's protection, was gone. With Granger's weekly house elf rights marches, middle-class people had already freed all of their house elves, and were desperately pressuring purebloods to do the same. Many families had to cope with injuries from the war, or with court cases investigating them for death eater activity just because they were pureblooded. Harry, once he had learned the purpose of the Society of Pureblood Affairs, had respected the Society and Draco's wish to work there, as well as Draco's work in dealing with countless angry and sobbing families. While holding on to his own house elves for the comfort of his mother, Draco had to ignore jibes about his family and hypocrisy and advise families to free their house elves.

Suddenly this was an issue. Draco's work with adjusting purebloods was now far less important than Harry's job in the Misuse of Muggle Artifacts office at the ministry, the office said to be the least purposeful by everyone and the only office Harry would agree to work. Harry was, naturally, very important to the office, since he also knew how muggle things were supposed to work, instead of declaring things running on battery power as being magically tampered with.

After several months of being hounded on these things whenever Draco came home, Harry stopped coming home at six o'clock. It was seven o'clock, because Harry got caught up in work. Eight o'clock, Hermione and Ron's baby said her first word, so of course Harry had to go over to their house. Nine o'clock, they found that object that they hadn't been able to find, and everyone went out for dinner and drinks. Ten o'clock, and Harry stopped making excuses, and seemed to be stumbling around more in the morning and taking lots of headache potions. One week ago, Ron had brought an unconscious Harry home to Harry and Draco's flat at two in the morning, with vomit crusted on Harry's chin.

Draco had been so kind over the past few months, doing his best to help Harry out, thinking he was going through a bad time at work and was bringing his angst home. Draco got up at six o'clock to make french toast, even though Draco was awful at his job when he got up early and was trashed for the next few days, and didn't even like french toast, although it was one of Harry's favorite foods. He planted the stupid flowers, and fertilized, watered, and trimmed all the bad leaves off so that the plants grew better than anyone elses, even the jobless old widow living on the floor below them. He hadn't poked his nose into Harry's business besides the odd comment to Ron and Hermione about if they thought Harry was acting strange. Hermione said Harry was going through yet another moody phase.

But now, Draco set Harry gently down in the bathroom, and washed his face gingerly with a washcloth. He set Harry's face against a pillow stuck to the toilet seat, so if Harry vomited again, it would go straight into the toilet. And then he went to the pile of Harry's stuff Ron had dumped on the floor, and began to go through it.

All the stuff was normal, except the business card in the very back of Harry's wallet for a bisexual bar. Ten punches on the card from business, and you get a free drink, the card read.

Draco would have thought some friend had given Harry the card, had it not had nine punches.

The next day, Draco called in to the ministry that Harry was sick, and let Harry sleep until one in the afternoon, when he woke up. Draco called in to the Society, telling them that his boyfriend was really, really sick and Draco needed to stay home and care for him. He confronted Harry about the card after Harry ate breakfast/lunch.

Harry blinked at it. "You shouldn't go through my stuff," he complained.

Draco shrugged. "Was I wrong to do so, given what I found?" He asked quietly.

Harry nodded. "You would have been wrong either way," he retorted. "But since you brought it up, I can break this to you more easily. This is over. It was fun while it lasted, but you're a jerk, Draco. You never do even the simplest things I want you to, which is why I needed to drink. To forget the shambles you made my life."

Draco's memory always began to fog here. "No," he remembered himself saying, "maybe we should break up, but not because of me. I got up in the morning to make you breakfast, I grew the flowers you wanted, and I cared for you last night even after finding the card. And yeste-"

Harry scowled. "You never understand!" He yelled. "You just don't do the things that counts! You wouldn't free those house elves!" He paused, huffing and glaring at the floor. "I'll be back to get my stuff tomorrow morning," he hissed. "Don't be here."

Draco remembered falling to his knees as the door slammed shut.

Draco laughed bitterly as he stared at his wand. Hadn't he said, so many times, that he left the house elves to comfort his mother by being a constant in her last years of life? And during the majority of their arguments, during that one year, it had really been only her last year of life. If Harry hadn't drunk himself to vomiting that night, Draco would've told him once he got home. Draco received a message from one of his house elves telling him that Narcissa Malfoy had died that day. Draco had sent to each house elf a small gift of clothing, freeing them. He'd hoped to tell Harry, but never got the chance.

Draco smiled down at the two letters on the table next to the manual, each addressed to their different person for when his body was found. One was for Blaise and Pansy, thanking them for what they had done, explaining his actions, what he wanted to be done with the manor, and including his new will, approved by his lawyer yesterday. The other was a letter for Harry, telling him all that Harry had never listened to, whether Draco managed to tell him about it in the end or not.

Finally, Draco set the portrait of him and Harry at the wedding on top of the envelope for Harry.

He picked up his wand, and deftly pointed it at himself. "Ee-vada Kee-davra," he articulated the modified syllables, and breathed the cleansed air as his soul vanished into the skies.

0.0

Harry heard a knock on the door while feeding Rose her baby food. Hermione briskly strode towards the door, wiping her hands on her apron before opening. "Yes?" She asked the visitor. "Oh, hi, Blaise!"

Harry cursed the day Zabini had become the head of the House Elf Freeing Division of the Society of Pureblood Affairs. Hermione worked with him, and so was far too familiar with Draco's best friend. It had been difficult to not let her know what was going on with Draco before they'd broken up six days ago, in case she slipped something to Zabini.

"Hello, Hermione. I'm sorry to call on you and Ron on a weekend, but I was wondering if Harry Potter was here."

"Well," Hermione's voice dropped, and Harry strained to hear, accidentally missing Rose's mouth on accident. Thankfully, Rose didn't notice enough to cry. "He is here, but if you want to talk to him about Draco, I'm afraid you'll have to wait a while. He won't hear a mention of the name..."

"He'll have to listen to this, and I've got a message from the deceased. Potter, you here?" Zabini called inside. "Come to the door, Potter."

"Blaise, what's wrong? You seem sadder than usual. Is Pansy alright?" Hermione asked.

Harry pushed himself up and shuffled over to Hermione, handing her Rose's spoon. "Here, Hermione. I'll talk with him."

Zabini stared at him, and woodenly handed him a letter. "That's from Draco, along with this picture." He handed Harry a slightly cracked picture frame, the one taken from Blaise and Pansy's wedding that Draco had always loved so much.

Harry held the photo and the letter in one hand, keeping the envelope closed. "Is that it? He wants me to go down memory lane?"

Zabini stared at him harder, though Harry could tell now that it was more of a glare. "Probably the memory lane from when he was alive, Potter." Harry's eyes widened, Hermione gasped behind him, and Zabini continued with a twisted smile. "He committed suicide last night, around eight o'clock, the aurors guessed. He used an old manual for self-torture, probably one of the dark books that he didn't destroy on your command, from the Malfoy library, to pronounce the Killing Curse differently so as to remove the component preventing one from killing himself. The day before, you were removed from his will, so you needn't worry about collecting your spoils. The funeral will be in one week, at the Bullstrode Cemetery for Pureblooded families, where the rest of the Malfoy family is or will be buried. He'll have a joint funeral with his mother." Zabini nodded to the letter in Harry's fist. "The rest is explained in that letter, most likely. I can't be sure since I didn't read it, but floo me if you have any questions."

Harry stared at Zabini as the man turned away and sharply disapparated. Harry spun towards Hermione, snapping the door shut behind him. Hermione watched him with tear-filled eyes, and Rose watched her mother with tear-filled eyes, wondering why her mother wasn't continuing the meal. Rose began to wail, and Hermione rushed to shush her and continue feeding baby food. Harry thought Rose's tears were actually quite befitting of the situation. She was the only one who could cry freely, it seemed.