A/N: This chapter contains overt mentions of suicidal thoughts and feelings.

VI

Harry had no idea how much time had passed since the last time he'd been more or less awake. He realised at once that he wasn't in his own bed, but he still couldn't quite move yet. Everything felt numb. His mind was more alert, however, and he could clearly hear people talking in the room.

"Got here as soon as I could." That was Ron's voice. "Where're the kids?"

"Still with their carer," Hermione replied.

"What the fuck happened?" Ron sounded angry.

"He took something out of my lab." Draco's voice was tired. The bed moved as he sat down. When he touched Harry's arms, his hands were soft and warm.

"He's been off for a while," Hermione said. "Didn't you notice it was this bad?"

"What are you saying?" Draco's voice was low and threatening.

"Surely you didn't miss that he's too thin, and he looks awful. When was the last time he ate or slept properly? I don't see how you could've failed to pick up on it, unless it didn't matter to you."

"Why'd you leave him access to your supplies, anyway?" Ron demanded.

"I don't—" Draco's hands, which had been rubbing Harry's shoulders, stilled. Harry could feel him trembling. "Wait a moment. You think I drove him to do this, don't you? The pair of you are still so quick to blame me."

Realising what they were implying, Harry struggled to come fully back to himself and move. He pushed through the fog, finally drawing a deep breath and arching his back. He felt Draco shift.

"Harry? Please, love. Wake up."

Harry opened his eyes. "St-stop arguing," he muttered.

Clearly relieved, Hermione laughed weakly. "I'm sorry. You scared us."

"'M sorry," he murmured. He swallowed a few times, trying to clear the stickiness from his mouth. "Don't blame Draco. Not his fault."

"Give us a minute?" Draco asked.

Harry registered Hermione's blurry form pulling Ron towards the door. "All right. Let's give them some privacy." Ron shrugged and followed her out, scowling over his shoulder one last time before pulling the door shut.

Harry rubbed his eyes. "Where are we?"

"St. Mungo's. You nearly died, you idiot. That potion was one of my test vials." Draco's voice broke on the last word but he quickly composed himself. "I have to ask," he said. "Were you trying to—"

Harry wriggled, trying to sit up. "I wasn't trying top myself, I swear it." This time.

Draco glared at him. "Well, then what the hell were you trying to do? You know better than to take something out of my lab."

"I just wanted to sleep," Harry admitted. "I'm so tired." He blinked as fear gripped him. "Wait…where's Maia?" He shoved at Draco and tried to get up.

"Stop." Draco pushed on his chest a little. "She's fine. Hermione took her to the Burrow and left her with Molly."

Harry flopped back against the pillows. "Shit. I'm sorry."

"What did you mean when you said you wanted to sleep?" Draco eyed him curiously.

"I've not been sleeping much lately." Harry sighed.

"What?" Draco frowned. "Why didn't you let me know? I thought you said Maia was sleeping better."

"She was, but then she had that damn cold, and she's still too small for pepper-up. She's better, but I'm still not sleeping well. I didn't want to worry you because you need to work. It's my job to take care of everything so you won't be too knackered." He looked away, twisting the blanket in his fingers.

Draco rounded on him. "There's something you're not telling me. I saw the other phials on the night-stand—those weren't for sleeping. What's going on?"

"I don't know," Harry acknowledged. He stared down at his hands then looked back up at Draco. "One minute I'm fine, and the next all I want to do is curl up and sleep forever. At least twice a week I blow something up, and it's not always accidental. I'm so tired I can barely move, and I want to cry all the fucking time. And I don't even know why." He drew up his knees and buried his face in his hands. "Oh, god. I just wanted it to stop. I need it to stop."

Warm arms slid around him. "Why didn't you tell me you were feeling that way?"

Harry didn't answer. Instead, he let himself go, sobbing. He pressed against Draco, who held him close and whispered, "Shhh" over and over.

After what felt like an eternity, Harry drew in a shaky breath and wiped his face. He pulled away to look at Draco. "I have to say it before I bury it and then explode the room," he said.

"All right." Draco dropped his arms so he could take one of Harry's hands and kept his eyes fixed on him.

"I told you the truth, but only part of it. I didn't intend to die this time." He drew in a deep breath. "But I wanted to. I want to," he corrected. He leaned in and dropped his head on Draco's shoulder, relieved to finally say it. "I wanted to clear my head so I could figure out how to make everything go the fuck away." He gasped as a fresh wave of grief washed over him. "Oh, god. I want to die." He shuddered violently before relaxing back into Draco's arms.

Draco sucked in his breath. "No," he murmured. Harry felt him trembling, and he could hear him trying to control his emotions without success. He shifted and took Harry's face in his hands. His eyes were brimming. "Can you tell me why?"

"It's all just too damn much lately. I've been trying to do everything because I'm the one home with the baby, and it's my responsibility so that you don't make a mistake at work when you're tired. I'm terrified that we're both going to die and leave Maia an orphan because we work in hazardous professions and because both of us still have people who would do anything to get at us. I'm worried that I'm not going to be a good parent because I have no idea what the hell I'm doing. I never had a dad myself, and I know I'm fucking it up at every turn. And I'm waiting for an angry disinheritance letter from your parents because we have a daughter and not a son." He was almost hyperventillating by the time he was through.

While he talked, Draco's eyes widened. "Can I answer all that?" he asked quietly. When Harry nodded, he continued. "This is not your responsibility, it's ours—we both chose to have a baby. You're right, our work isn't safe, and we still have to be careful, especially when we're not together. There are no guarantees. All we can do is protect ourselves the best we can, which we've so far been able to do quite well. You are a fine parent, and nobody knows what they're doing at first—you are not a fuck-up. What was the last one again?"

"Your father being angry that we have a daughter."

Draco snorted. "Haven't I already told you we don't live in the Dark Ages? Honestly, Potter. Where have you been when we're visiting my parents? Surely you've seen how my father dotes on her. I think we've finally found something he loves more than that damn car you bought him. My mother is thrilled to have a granddaughter. Absolutely no one minds that she's a girl."

"But what about that shite your mother said about producing an heir?"

It was obvious Draco was trying not to laugh. "Is that some weird Muggle thing, that only boys can be heirs?"

"Er, I guess?"

"Well, it's a load of old nonsense. I have no idea what put that idea into your head. Maia is my heir. Yours too, for that matter. It doesn't make a bit of difference where she came from or that she's a girl. She's ours, and that's all anyone cares about."

Harry flopped weakly back onto the bed. "She's an exhausting heir, if nothing else."

Draco chuckled. "That she is." He leaned down and kissed Harry's cheek. "Don't ever do that to me again. I thought I'd lost you."

Harry reached up to brush at Draco's hair, which was falling into his eyes. "I wish I could make that promise to you." He sighed. "But right now, I can't."

Draco swallowed and nodded. "Is all this why you kept pushing me away? I thought—" He bit his lip. "I thought you didn't want me anymore. Maybe even that you didn't—"

"No!" Harry stopped him before he could complete that thought. "I do love you, and I do want you. I just can't…" Harry cleared his throat. "My body won't respond." His neck prickled, and he cleared his throat. "Erm. Or sometimes I just can't finish, and I've been too embarrassed to tell you. I stopped trying ages ago, even when I'm alone. I'm always just to knackered or too…" He trailed off, not wanting to say it out loud, though he knew it was true: Too depressed.

By that point, Draco's eyes were red-rimmed again. "Don't shut me out. At least let me be close with you, even if you don't want to do anything else."

"Okay."

Sighing, Draco sat up straight again. "This is more than just being tired or stressed, though. It's not good that you're feeling low all the time or that you wish yourself dead. You've said this wasn't on purpose—or not entirely anyway—and I want to believe that you won't do it again. But you've admitted yourself that next time, it won't be an accident. Make an appointment with that healer you see, or I'll do it for you." Something in his tone made it clear it would be unwise to disagree.

"I will. I didn't think it was this bad. I'm sorry."

Draco laid his hand on Harry's cheek, and Harry leaned into the touch. "I know." He leaned down and kissed Harry softly. "You need sleep, and Molly can't keep the baby forever. Get some rest, and I'll be back in the morning."

"Yes, Mum."

Chuckling, Draco stood up. "Behave yourself," he warned, but he grinned. There was more relief than amusement behind it.

A/N: Before I get lots of comments about how I didn't write depression/suicidal thoughts "correctly," let me assure you I've been there. I can only speak from my experiences, but this was how it felt to me. When I was at a breaking point, I overdosed on sleep meds in order to rest and clear my head to formulate a real suicide plan. Other people's lives look different from mine. I'm not trying to capture every experience perfectly.