Written as part of 25 Days of Drarry 2020.
A little warning that this story contains themes that may be upsetting to some, such as depression and suicidal thoughts.
* Please do not translate or repost this story.
Harry pulls his coat tight around him, but the wind makes the snow feel sharp as daggers against his skin tonight. At any other night the cold would make him go and find shelter at one of London's coffeeshops, or he would go home, where it's safe and warm.
But ever since the war, Christmas had been a painful reminder to him of everyone he had lost. So every year on Christmas Eve he goes to London, and he spends the night wandering the streets, watching the young couples who are about to spend their first Christmas together, the families, the kids still awake in the hopes of catching a glimpse of Santa and his reindeers. The old, married couples, still as in love with each other as they were, thirty, forty, perhaps even seventy years ago.
It had always given Harry some kind of comfort, and it had made him feel less lonely. He was still standing on the outside looking in. But knowing that there was still so much good, so much happiness in the world, it had reassured him that everything they had done, it hadn't been for nothing. His family, his friends, they hadn't given their life in vein.
Tonight feels colder than previous years though, and there are hardly any other people around. More likely than not, they are at home, where it's warm and cosy. Where they are together.
The thought makes Harry shiver, so he keeps on walking, blinking away the tears in his eyes. Not sure if it's the wind that is making him cry, or the memories of his loved ones. The memories of all the crying, the screaming. The memories of a fight that never left him. That night, which he can still feel in every fibre of his being.
By the time he looks up, having been so lost in his thoughts that for god knows how long he didn't even know where he was going, he finds that he has walked all the way over to the Tower Bridge.
He knows he should turn around, because he doubts he'll find the warmth and comfort that he is looking for out on the bridge. But something makes him go there anyway.
For a moment it feels like more wasted time, but when he notices the dark figure looking over the edge, his platinum hair peeking out from under his hat, he makes his way over to him.
"Draco? Is that you?"
The man turns around, a horrified look on his face. He looks ashamed, caught out, but Harry doesn't understand why. He didn't catch him doing anything. He was simply watching the river. What is so wrong with that?
"What are you doing here, Potter?" Draco spits out, but he doesn't sound angry. He sounds more scared than anything else.
"I was just… it doesn't matter. Why are you here?" Harry asks, a sick feeling washing over him. Because what if he did catch him? What if Draco was in the middle of doing something horrible? What if this is about to set off another terrible series of events, leading to more pain, and more death? What if it's about to start all over again?
But when Draco looks back at the river, tears welling up in his eyes, it hits Harry just why he is here. What he would have done if Harry hadn't caught him. What he could still do. Because why would he let Harry's interruption stop him?
"You were going to jump?"
"What does it matter to you?" Draco asks. "Just leave, Potter. You never saw me."
For a moment Harry considers turning around, because why should this be his problem? Draco had tried to make his life hell when they were kids, so why should he be the one to try and save his life now? Why not turn around and let him do this? Be done with him once and for all.
But he knows that it wouldn't be fair, so he takes another step towards him, hoping it won't scare him off.
"I can't let you do this."
"Why not?" Draco scoffs. "You think you can stop me?"
"I'll try," Harry says. "Don't do this, Draco. Whatever the reason is… it's not worth killing yourself over."
"How would you know, huh?"
"What about your family?" Harry tries, but by the look on the other man's face, he can tell that that was the wrong thing to say. "Your… are you with someone?"
"Do you think I'd be doing this if I was?"
"Please," Harry begs, "Think of everything you've been through. Is this really how you want your story to end? Or do you want to make something of your life, prove everyone wrong?"
"Just leave me alone."
"I can't. I'm involved now."
"It's not like I'll be around to tell anyone," Draco scoffs, but Harry can see the fear in his eyes. "Just go, Harry."
Hearing Draco say his first name, it breaks Harry's heart, because this only shows just how little fight in him he has left. How close he is to taking that final step.
"I can't let you do this," Harry repeats, and he takes another step towards him, before putting a hand on his back. It makes Draco flinch, and for a moment his face hardens. But then it softens, and a tear rolls down his face. He doesn't even try to fight it, too broken to even care about Harry seeing this side of him.
"Don't do this, please," Harry whispers. "You have too much to live for."
"I don't," Draco whispers, his voice breaking. "I lost everything, Harry…"
Harry doesn't care about the past anymore, about whatever Draco had said and done to him. Right now he cares about this lost and broken man standing in front of him. So he wraps his arms around him, and as he feels him breaking apart, he just holds him. Because this can't be where their story ends.
Not after everything they have survived.
