Disclaimer: god do I wish I owned this. Especially Draco "drools"
A/N: grrrr I haven't been getting your reviews cuz my computer is virusy and such. I all depressed. I want to die. Life sucks cheese monkey balls.
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Harry got back from Art Therapy only to be informed by a nurse that Draco had visited when he was out. His already black mood deepened.
"Fuck," Harry muttered, with feeling.
Then he did what he always did when he was in a particularly nasty mood. He fetched his notebook (with no spirals of course, because you could rip them out and hurt yourself with them) and ink and a quill and settled into the small closet. It was covered in quotes, inside and out, and Harry always loved to write them down, so he could read them if he ever left.
Sex, drugs, rock n roll,
Speed, weed, birth control
Life's a bitch and then you die
So fuck this shit, I'm gettin high
So went the first quote, obviously from a Muggle.
The rest were like they usually were, "LET ME DIE" or, "I'm buried under the bed".
Then Harry came across one he had never seen before.
Dear Harry, it began with. What the fuck, Harry thought.
I know you read these quotes, Harry read on, so I'm leaving you this. I'm going to sound like a prat anyway I say this, but what the fuck, I'm saying it anyhow.
When I'm with you, I feel safe, secure, protected, and like I can heal. Harry paused. Had he not been thinking the same thing about a certain blond just that morning?
I'm going to shut up now and say it. I've had a crush on you since the first year I met you. I love you, I love everything about you. I know you don't love me, but I just want you to know that.
Draco
Harry sat there for a moment, stunned. Draco loved him? Who loved Harry Potter! No one…everyone who had was dead.
Harry took a moment to think of Draco. He wanted to know more about him….everything, from his favorite color to what scared him. Draco was someone Harry could se himself living with until his death…Draco was someone Harry wanted to protect and be with for as long as possible. If that wasn't love, then what the fuck was?
Harry leapt out of the closet (which was very difficult to do and resulted in earning himself a large bruise on his head) and ran to the nearest nurse.
"I'd like to visit Draco Malfoy," he said quickly.
The nurse pursed her lips in thought while Harry held his breath. "Alright," she said finally. "But I'm very busy so you'll have to make it quick."
"Okay," Harry said, bouncing from foot to foot. They set out at a very brisk pace to maximum security.
"Draco!" Harry yelled happily when he saw him.
"Harry," Draco said with a wary nod.
"Draco, I got your note," Harry said, a bit breathless. "And I – I don't want to ever leave you."
"How sweet," Draco said dryly. "Picture perfect, Potter."
"Huh?" Harry asked, confused.
"Nothing,' Draco muttered. "I'm not very good at the mushy crap."
"Okay, then. How about, I love you, and that's all I say?" Harry asked.
"Yeah, okay, we love each other," Draco mumbled.
"Draco, what's wrong?" Harry asked, concerned. "I thought you'd be happy…"
"Do you think we can just move out and have two children and a white picket fence, Harry?" Draco asked, a pained expression on his face. "Well we can't! We're two loonys in a fucking insane asylum! We can never lead a normal life and you'll hate me! I don't even like myself, Harry!"
"But I love you, Draco," Harry said gently. "Please, please give us a chance."
Draco hesitated for a moment. "Fine," he said, annoyed. "But only cuz I love you so much."
Harry grinned, and it was beautiful. His whole face lit up, and his dull eyes were sparkling as they once did.
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Two days later, Draco was let out of maximum security.
There was much rejoicing and shit, says the lazy author.
One day, a nurse came in to Harry and Draco's room.
"You've been in here the required time, three and a half weeks, and you haven't engaged in any unsafe behavior in a long time. Tomorrow, Lupin will come to take you home! Now isn't that marvelous!" she gushed.
"Yeah," Harry said, glancing at Draco, who was looking decidedly depressed.
"You might want to pack up your things, love," the nurse said tenderly, seeing the looks the two were exchanging.
"Right," Harry said, a sick feeling in the pit of his stomach.
Then promptly lay down on the bed and fought not to cry.
A/N: Sorry for the short chapter. If you want to know, I tried to kill myself, again, and failed miserably. But I love you guys so I wrote this little chapter for you. I'm all depressed now. Must read happy Fanfiction and don't be surprised if I don't update for a while. I may have to go back to the hospital. To answer some questions: Yes, Voldemort is dead. Remember in the first chapter where Harry killed him?
Ergh, dammit, I'm sorry, I totally forgot that he was dead. So yeah my bad. And no, Harry wasn't imagining things. Voldemort is really dead, I'm just a fucktard.
