After Dark
AN: One shot, and one shot only.
It was her.
The only one he ever truly loved, oh how wrong but right it had felt to be with her.
No spotlight, no media just them together. Two celebrities caught up in the moment, but it was written in the stars.
Maybe astronomy wasn't so bad after all?
He was Harry and she was… perfect?
Perfect, but her infatuation was overbearing. Enough to drive any sane man to the edge, but the edge came later…
No, they met at a party in 'Sin City' which coincidentally was also known as Vegas. Funny thing about is that you go there rich and you leave soulless, but you meet like-minded people.
Oh Harry hadn't seen her in years, maybe a decade. Oh the memories of Hogwarts had faded into obscurity and his 'glamorous' party boy life-style had become his persona.
His friends left him a long time, but the drinks and substances made him feel numb to the losses that kept on coming.
Hermione.
Ginny.
Neville.
All left him apart from Ron who stuck through, until he as well realised there was no point carrying on as he cashed in his chips in Vegas and departed. It was a nasty shock, and even more damage to Harry. They both lost in the end.
Harry didn't blame any of them, not at all but it didn't make the pain go away instead it amplified it.
He turned to be this way because of the restrictions chocking him, metaphorically and physically. He can't do this, he can't do that!
Well he can drink.
After some drinks, a few pills helped.
And after a few pills…
How would you react to your friends leaving you because of your action?
So there he was at a party wishing he wasn't their will sipping on some improved firewhisky, now eighty five point five per cent alcohol. Merlin those muggles know how to throw a party.
Harry was drinking and inhaling go knows what, magical or muggle it doesn't matter as long as his edge was taken away. Beside him some people were taking pictures of juvenile behaviour, someone nude or some other silly action.
Oh but he can see her, a nice tight ruby dress with sparkles that can imitate life itself long flowing blonde hair and piercing blue eyes that shone with melancholy but a desire for love. He walked over to her, trying not to stumble. Eventually her attention was caught, although for the wring reasons.
It wasn't every day you joined a beautiful witch in taking illicit pills.
Oh they bonded, he even took her home. They talked, her life after school, how she had been hurt, not just emotionally.
He talked too, about his life, about how he copes with losing his friends. About everything with Ron…
It felt nice.
She was a model, or something along those lines. Everyone degraded her however, she flung her blonde hair angrily to the side detailing the various ways wizards assumed she was stupid even though she had ten OWL'S!
She leaned in, but he moved closer and he was certain she could taste his breathe, likely tasting like alcohol.
But she didn't mind, not now or back in school.
Wasn't she a Slytherin?
Or was it Hufflepuff?
Oh they both gave into their vices, he was exploring how not to feel alone, she was trying to find love again.
It was wrong, they both knew it. They barely spoke about their emotions, they never thought, they just did…
She couldn't stop being attached to him; she followed his word like a lost puppy and was so much alike Mrs Weasley. Every morning she would watch his every move, and to every 'meeting' she came uninvited.
For every drink he had, she would match it. It didn't stop there, it just kept on getting bigger, but their happiness was unfortunately directly proportional.
He just wanted some privacy but she claimed she was hurt from previous relationships.
His response was to drag her to their bedroom.
And it felt fucking amazing; no substance could ever get him this kind of euphoria. The nights spent up in his loft talking about things they would do to each other than actually doing were spectacular.
The days spent talking about their dreams, about the future were brightening up his mood without no substances involved.
But not all talks were good, some led to fights and a consequent make up. Some talks led to promises, promises she would never keep and they both knew it but it didn't matter.
He met her parents, snobs of course but polite to him. Her younger sister had a nice arse but he wasn't thinking about that.
But like everything in his life, his relationship went downhill. Fast.
Faster like any other happy feeling in his life, if his relationship was even considered happiness.
Was he happy? Or was he just pretending?
A quick trip to Birmingham should sort it out as he left with a note to her saying he will be back.
In Birmingham he went to a lounge, nothing bad but at all. He went to the back and a random girl followed, she was cold-hearted with no shame as she locked the door and the reddish locks flowed behind her curves and heart shaped face.
She was his for the night, Stacey or Lacey whatever; he was never good at names.
Maybe it was Gabrielle?
She was his until the morning when her boyfriend called, and he realised what had happened.
Nobody was watching as he cried, the guilt was unbearable and he realised maybe he was the bad guy.
He took more drinks than usual, more poison in his body. More thoughts filled his mind.
It sent him down a spiral of hedonism.
Sex with random women, the amount of things he consumed daily would have an entire city under paralysis, but thank god for magic.
God.
That was funny; he was starting to lose faith in magic himself.
Merlin couldn't fucking fix him, could he.
Could he?
Next time he visited her parents he slept with her younger sister, even though she was married and had a son.
He slept with old team mates, old classmates and even old war buddies.
It was bad, so bad he took the edge of every night with multiple things at once. But he was ashamed, and he decided he needed to let it out.
He went to go tell her, with the idea to show her how much she meant him. How much he valued their relationship and how it was an honest mistake. To come clean.
Instead he told her she should have seen this coming, that he was always like this and how it was her fault all of this coming. If she had given more love they would have been fine. She left with no words.
Oh Harry had expected at least something, a hex or a physical slap.
But her saying nothing struck a cord and he doubled what he was taking.
Days turned to weeks, and weeks turned to months as he woke in hospital one day.
Apparently he had overdosed and had almost lost the ability to walk, not even magic could save him.
The blinding light from the sun overcame his sense as he was finally deemed healthy enough to leave the blasted place.
She was still there for him, but her looks of scorn and fury were trying to be hid, until she herself stopped hiding them.
They fought more than usual, his coping method was mocked daily by her.
Wasn't he supposed to learn?
'Oh, how in Merlin's name did you defeat the Dark Lord!'
Eventually she limits herself from him, excuses like 'My dog has to go to the hospital' or 'I'm visiting my parents'.
He was scared to live, scared to live without her.
And then she stopped coming altogether.
She stopped replying to his owls, she blocked him off from floo.
He pleads, hoping for some sense of loyalty, or sympathy. He pleads for the old times to come back but she is in a new market.
One of love.
Something he could not provide no matter how much he tried.
But it was her fault, if she had been better than they would have still been together.
He goes back to his old ways, and like usual he feels nothing after a few hours, or was it minutes?
Months turn to years and he sees her again.
It was a party in London, the tenth anniversary of the end of Voldemort.
Ten years since the last battle, ten years since he lost everything but won. How was it possible!
She seems more radiant, like an angel. He could at least see the smile on her face, even with the intoxicated vision and dry throat that limited his speech.
"Daphne!" he calls but it is no use; she has a ring in her finger and a handsome dark man beside her.
He calls again and she turns and looks at him, sorrow in her eyes.
"Go home Harry, your drunk!"
I yell back, confessing my love for her, my regrets.
How the situation for her currently isn't reality, only temporary and how they were soul mates.
Taken back, she argues back and replies "You couldn't make happy, you're a fix-up job no one wants Harry. A relationship with you always ends up in a grave."
That stung hard, she had promised that if he went down she would follow also didn't she? Was she alluding to that, or to the fact that he drove people away.
"But you promised! You promised that if I die you would follow right behind me, that you would watch me smile when I was dying! You promised that you would never leave!"
Her brow rose and she threw her drink at his face.
Champagne?
No, it smelt stronger most likely vodka.
"I made promises I couldn't keep. But at least I tried; you ruined my relationship with my sister. You ruined my whole sister's life, her husband divorced and took their son. You didn't even try Harry; all you do is ruin things because you're scared. You left me."
No, he didn't run away; she left on her own accord. "YOU LEFT ME! You made me almost end up in a grave!" He screamed, hoping for her to rectify her mistake and for things to go back as they were.
But he wasn't that lucky as she ran away with tears in her eyes.
Her husband steps in and fights Harry, who stumbled around. By the time it was finished Harry is more red that white, and was laughing on the floor.
The irony of it all was getting to him.
Deep down he knew he never deserved her, and when he had her his actions destroyed their relationship.
She never drove him away; in fact he drove her away. He was too afraid to be alone he took the edge.
He was heartless; he was everything he tried to avoid.
He was a monster, no better than Riddle.
He played with her emotions, her heart. She almost died for him for a relationship he didn't value at that time.
But it was too late now; he gave into his vices and became everything he hated.
Why?
Because Hermione, Ginny, Neville and Ron were right about him. His rough childhood had made him immune to feeling much; maybe this was what he deserved.
He got into the tub, red still all over but he added more red to mix and he felt himself leave the world.
This was him checking out like at Vegas, after dark…
AN: End.
Yes Ron died at Vegas, that led Harry to turning even more to bad coping methods.
In the end Harry was alone, like when he started and it's what he deserves. HE tried to emotionally manipulate her to be with him, he never "Loved" her and even in the end Harry only wanted her not to feel alone.
Yes it's a little morbid, but in the context of cannon I do not think Harry would even be allowed to become a Auror. I mean a celebrity doing dangerous work; the government would not allow it as he reflects the entire British scene. Any bad move he makes is a move they also make so I think they would just make him party.
This in turn would lead Harry to a depression, something he does not enjoy and Ron commits suicide to end all the pain he has.
Now this plot bunny partly came from the Weeknds new album After Hours, only partly with some words her like "Scared to Live" and "After Dark" being direct and non-direct references to his song/album because it's aesthetic motivated me.
It's up to you weather Harry deserved it or not.
Maybe in the end he died, or maybe he just washed away his sins.
No sequel, this was just to get me back to writing and most importantly to move on from a previous relationship that I broke because I was dragged by my demons.
Mia and Isa I'm sorry for throwing away what you gave me. Hopefully you will all unblock me and maybe you can get your closure.
Peace,
Tydbox (Rael)