Title: Too Deep
Rating: T
Pairing(s)/Character(s): Harry/Oliver
Warnings: Depression
Disclaimer: Don't own 'em - not making any money off 'em. Dern it.
Word Count: 1,135
Summary: Oliver finds out that he can never play Quidditch again, and sinks into a depression that not even Harry can pull him out of.
Notes:

Hogwarts School of Witchcraft & Wizardry: Defense Against the Dark Arts – Write about loss. (minimum 600 words)

Gift-Giving Extravaganza 2015: Mew-tsubaki – Oliver/Harry

Taming the Muse Livejournal Community: Prompt Used – Scullion (s)

"I'm sorry. There's a good chance Oliver will never be able to play professional Quidditch again, not even with magical healing."

Harry looks at Oliver, and his longtime lover looks as if his world has just ended. And to him, it probably has. As long as Harry has known Oliver, he's known that Quidditch was the most important thing to his lover. In school, all Oliver cared about was winning the Quidditch Cup and then getting onto a professional team after he left Hogwarts. And when he was a reserve on United, all he cared about was working his way up to being a starting player. He practiced and practiced, going early to the field and leaving late after team practices. When he was told he' would finally be starting Keeper, Harry never saw such a happy expression on Oliver's face, not even when they kissed for the first time. Not even when they made love for the first time, or when they played chef and scullion.

And all of that is coming to end now because someone on that team ignored safety precautions and let a Bludger loose when Oliver was on the field but not even in the air. Oliver didn't see it when it zoomed towards him, and then it hit him hard in the spine before anyone could stop it.

The two of them leave the hospital and Apparate to outside their shared flat. Harry walks through the door after Oliver. He stays silent as Oliver shrugs off his jacket. He softly steps up to him and presses his hand against Oliver's forearm. "Can I get anything for you?" he timidly asks.

"Can you turn back time so that idiot never let loose the Bludger?"

Harry doesn't answer, really wishing there weren't rules associated with time turners, or time travel in general.

"I didn't think so," he gruffly says, shrugging off the bothersome hand.

"I can get you a drink?" Harry says, a questioning lift to his voice.

Oliver walks into the kitchen, opens the refrigerator, and takes out a bottle of Firewhiskey. "I can get it myself." He then goes into their bedroom, and Harry decides to not follow him.

Oliver will let him know when he's needed and right now, Oliver probably needs time alone to process everything that has happened.

Harry watches Oliver get farther and farther away from him. When Harry leaves to go to the Auror Office in the mornings, Oliver is still in bed. They don't have breakfast together anymore like they used to. There's no playful banter when they wake up and no shower fun before the day starts either.

When Harry gets home, Oliver is always with a bottle of Firewhiskey. Harry wonders how much he drank during the day but doesn't voice the question, afraid of the answer.

Oliver doesn't talk. He doesn't laugh or even look at him when Harry comes home. He tries to get Oliver to go with him to Weasley gatherings, but all Oliver does when Harry brings it up is grunt. Oliver doesn't even look at him when he does it.

Almost sixth months after the medi-witch's devastating diagnoses, Harry came home from work to find Oliver passed out drunk. He has never seen Oliver so bad, and he hates seeing it.

'Enough is enough. Something needs to change.' He floo calls Kingsley. "I need tomorrow off," he says after exchanging the customary pleasantries.

"Is everything okay?"

Harry looks over his shoulder, where Oliver is sprawled on the couch still unconscious, and then looks back into the fireplace. "No, but hopefully after tomorrow, everything will be better. Please, I need the day."

"Don't worry about it. Take tomorrow off, and the next day if you need it."

"Thanks," Harry murmurs and steps away from the fireplace.

That night, Harry leaves Oliver on the couch. 'If he wakes up with a sore neck, it will serve him right,' he thinks spitefully.

The next morning, Harry is standing in front of the couch when Oliver comes to. He's holding a hangover cure and when Oliver reaches for it, he pulls it away. "I'm really debating whether I should give this to you."

Oliver looks longingly at the vial.

Harry rolls his eyes. "You look so pathetic. Take it." He hands over the cure and after Oliver swallows it, Harry takes a deep breath. "We need to talk," he starts in a hard voice. "You can't keep doing this to yourself. I have never seen you passed out before, but I'm sure it wasn't the first time." He softens his voice when he continues, "Oliver, you need to find something else to do with yourself, something that doesn't have anything to do with Firewhiskey."

"I can't play Quidditch anymore," Oliver growls.

Harry sits down so he's level with Oliver. "I know, and I understand you're hurting. I understand that playing professional Quidditch was your dream. You can't waste away because of that, though. There are other things you can do besides play Quidditch. I know there are. If you would just open your eyes and see that you have other options –"

"Don't tell me what to do!" Oliver interrupts and stands up. He then stomps away into their room, slamming the door behind him.

Harry takes a shuddering breath. 'I won't cry. I won't cry. Falling apart won't help Oliver. I won't cry.'

Even though Oliver is less than receptive, Harry still hopes what he said will sink into Oliver's brain. Unfortunately, it doesn't.

Oliver sinks deeper and deeper into depression and nothing Harry does or says gets through to him. Finally, after another four months, Harry has had enough.

He packs his bags after deciding to go stay at 12 Grimmauld Place. The morning he decides to leave, he looks sadly at Oliver who hasn't moved from bed. "I'm leaving."

Oliver waves his hand disinterestedly. "Whatever, I'll see you later."

"No." Harry shakes his head. "I'm leaving for good. I can't watch you waste away and know there's nothing I can do to help you, not if you don't want help. I love you so much, but I can't stay and watch this. I hope you find a way to get some happiness back into your life. You are the only one that can turn your life around."

Oliver's eyes are wide. "But –"

"I love you," Harry breathes, holding back the tears that wanted to fall. He leans down and kisses Oliver lightly on the lips. "I love you so much. Please, just get better," he whispers against Oliver's mouth.

He stands up and leaves their... Oliver's bedroom, and then leaves the flat. He doesn't know if he and Oliver will ever get back together, but he truly hopes Oliver can find some happiness. Oliver deserves it.