Harry stared at the ceiling, the random imperfections of the gray stones that allowed Harry to relate to them. He knew he was flawed; perhaps more than others, yet he'd found someone to love him, despite his flaws.
What were his flaws, some would ask. What flaws could the perfect savior, defeater of Voldemort, the tyrannical evil wizard, have? First, he had a "saving people thing" according to Hermione. That, normally wouldn't be bad, however, if he wasn't able to save someone, it made him feel guilty. This guilt would grow inside of him, until he needed to find a way to release it. Of course, he couldn't just let it go away, that wouldn't be fair to those whom he had let down and so he found cutting himself to be an acceptable sort of therapy and punishment. This way, he reasoned, he would never forget those whom he disappointed. He should never forget. No, that would be irresponsible. He caressed a rough, reddish-brown line that marred his arm, one of many, in fact. He smiled. He knew this was the right thing to do. How could it not be?
Second, along with his "saving people thing" he also had a "thinking" thing. Now not too many people would accuse him of thinking, but he did. Well, he over-thought. That was his problem. He just couldn't stop the thoughts, the memories, and the ideas in his head. This is where the drugs came in. He started off lightly, as most drug users do, eventually working himself to what Hermione had once described as "hard-core" drugs. His current drug of choice was heroin. It made him happy and it slowed his mind down. He was able to just lay there, and stare at the ceiling of his lover's room, waiting for him to come home.
That was another flaw of his, according to the public. He was gay. That meant that he wouldn't have any little saviors running around, keeping the public safe, which made them uncomfortable. Then, there was a fact that he was dating a former Death Eater. That caused some public concern. Then, on top of all that, he was dating his former professor. That caused, apparently, a lot of concern. He couldn't really remember, that night was particularly blurry, he almost overdosed that night. Severus Snape saved him, yelled at him, nearly left him, then hugged and slept with him.
"The ceiling will it collapse?" Harry mused out loud, he had just heard a door open, and so he believed that Severus was home. He knew Severus would be mad, but how could he care? He felt too good to care.
"Harry? Harry? Are you high?" came the accusatory tones.
"No, I'm not 'high' I'm happy. You can't deny me that, can you, love?" his response was slower that in should have been, his face flushed from the drugs.
"Harry, look at me," Severus wanted to see his eyes, see exactly how far off Harry was.
"Can't. Head's too heavy. Is it always this heavy?" Harry wondered, his head moving slightly from one side to the next, as if he was trying to heave it in one direction or the other.
"I can't watch you do this anymore. You promised you were done," Severus sat down on the bed. He was still in his teaching robes from the day. He reached out to grab Harry's hand, he held on tight, but Harry was unable to do so. One of the effects of the drugs, another one that Severus hated. Harry could barely register Severus and couldn't physically respond.
"Don't watch then. Or better yet, try some. It's fun," Harry had made the word "fun" drag out and have a slight singsong quality to it. It disgusted Severus. How could this be fun? Running away from life, from reality. He couldn't do it.
"Why did you take it this time?" Severus asked quietly.
"I don't like the memories. They're bad. This is good," Harry replied, slowly, holding up a syringe.
"I don't even know why I'm here for you anymore. I'm suppose to be the one who you rely on for comfort, for an escape, not these drugs! What do you want me here for?" Severus accused.
"You can watch me die," Harry smiled. This was what he had wanted to do for a while. Living, even with Severus there to dull the pain, just wasn't worth it any more.
"I'm not watching you die any longer, when you are sober, we are throwing all of this shit out. I mean it. I'll make sure you never get anymore of it. I'll even put you under so many tracking charms you won't be able to piss without me knowing about it!" Severus was working himself into a fury, he hadn't understood.
"No, Severus. I want you to watch me die. Please?"
"Watch you die? I'm not watching you die? I'm watching you be the stupid, moronic fool that I thought we had gotten rid of. I'm watching you destroy this relationship. I'm watching you fall more in love with a drug and less involved with me. That's what I'm watching you do," Severus nearly shouted.
"Oh."
"Oh? That's it? Harry, I need you to stop this! I need you to live, to remove yourself from this haze that drugs have lulled you into. You need to exist for us to exist. I want you to be able to face your problems instead of masking them."
"Sorry, Severus," Harry closed his eyes. His breathing had slowed significantly. Severus assumed it was because of the effects of the drugs. He had seen Harry in a similar state before, just not recently. He had hoped that Harry had quit his addiction at last. He seemed happy these last few days. Maybe he was just high then too, on a different drug. As bad as it seemed, he didn't know if his love for Harry was going to be able to outlast his hatred for this drug.
Harry's hand slipped completely free from Severus's hand and felt softly onto the bed. Severus watched it; maybe this was the end of the line for Severus. There was no way that he was going to be able to watch Harry slowly kill himself with these drugs. He sadly looked back up at the flushed face of his partner. He stared for a few minutes, before noticing that Harry had stopped breathing. In a panic he floo-ed for the nurse, who arrived promptly. She set to work, however she was only able to sigh and shake her head.
He had died from an overdose. He had taken too much heroin. It had been the same amount the previous time he had gotten high, however his tolerance had faltered in the months of sobriety. Severus only nodded and sat on his chair as she took away his lover's body. His former lover's body. Severus had watched him die, as much as he didn't want to, he had.
In the week after Harry's death, Severus prepared for a funeral, attended a funeral, received many forms of unwanted sympathy, and had gotten drunk once. He hadn't cried. Severus knew it probably wasn't a healthy way to deal with things, but he had already grieved. Each time Harry got high to solve his problems, Severus grieved, it was only a matter of time, he figured, that he would lose Harry physically, instead of mentally.
For one year, Severus was withdrawn. For one year, Severus thought of Harry. He got mad at Harry, felt sorrow for Harry, felt happiness that Harry would no longer have such issues now that he had gone. For one year, Severus mourned without mourning. One day, however, that changed. He finally removed all of the left over trinkets that Harry had placed within his rooms. He had packed them away and breathed.
A few years later, Severus found himself in a relationship once again, with someone who was able to be in a relationship, fully committed. They lasted for a while, but eventually found that they were better friends, than lovers.
Severus finally settled down with a man who loved books nearly as much as he did. He was able to have debates with him that were stimulating, yet there were many times in which they just sat in comfortable silence. It was during the silences that they got to know each other. But it was also during these times when Severus would sometimes think back to Harry's suicide.
And once a year, Severus would take two days to himself and travel to Harry's grave and sit. Sometimes he would say something, sometimes he would yell, and sometimes he said nothing at all. He still loved Harry, no matter how selfish he was in the end.