Til death us do part – part 3
Authors note – Hi everyone! So, yeah – part 3 has been a verrrry long time coming. I'm a very busy girl nowadays – I'm now a mother of 3 gorgeous boys, ages 3, 5 and almost 13! My 5 year old has Verbal dyspraxia (Apraxia of speech) which means he needs a little more attention than most. I work full time as a nursery assistant working with 2-3 year olds, and I'm also in college doing my level 2 in Children and Young People's Workforce. And I won't even get started on my marriage that lasted a total of 7 weeks! So, as you can see I have lots on my plate – however, I needed a bit of Drarry in my life and it's my favourite way to escape! It's time for me to start tying up loose ends! Enjoy.
In sickness and in health.
Part 3
"Mr Malfoy, did you understand what I just told you?"
A heavy, saddened voice floated into Draco's consciousness, and he forced himself to focus on his surroundings.
He was aware of faces he didn't automatically recognise, all mirroring expressions of sympathy and regret. Not one of those faces wanted to be looking at Draco.
"Excuse me?" Draco croaked, his voice rasping through his dry, sore throat. He blinked several times, encouraging his brain to catch up with the situation.
"Mr Potter's body has been released by the coroner. You are now free to begin making arrangements to…lay him to rest,"
Draco focused on the speaker. She was Hufflepuff looking – round, open face and innocent sounding voice. Before, Draco would have made fun of the fact her hair was red, or because her shoes were sensible. Before, he would have given Harry a look that would have communicated these thoughts, and would have been met with a glare that was about as menacing as a Gryffindor could muster.
Before.
No tears came. There were none left. Though a vice clamped around Draco's stomach, squeezing in a way that had become familiar. He fought the urge to double over and howl with the pain of it.
"He can come home?" Draco asked in a voice that sounded so detached he wondered if it had even come from him at all.
The faces looked at each other, not quite hiding the shock they obviously felt. "We would recommend that Mr Potter's body be taken to a funeral home and held there until you make some arrangements, which of course we can also assist with."
Draco let his eyelids slide closed over his glassy silver eyes and sucked in a shaky breath. It was too much, he couldn't bare this anymore.
He stood so abruptly he swayed and had to catch himself on the coffee table in front of him. The other people in the room made movements to reach out and help him but he recoiled and straightened himself with haste.
It was a funny little mechanism, one he had used less as his years had passed with Harry, but his Slytherin mask of indifference and disgust snapped into place without a second thought. He sometimes wondered if this mechanism was like a person with multiple personalities, sliding from one alias to another with little effort.
"I don't need your help. I need Harry, home where he belongs!" He sneered. It lacked the venom of his teenage years, Harry had softened him, but it was enough to cause enough discomfort that no one tried to stop him as he swept out of the room.
He had no idea where he was going, had no idea what he was doing. Life had ceased to make sense. He just knew he had to keep going, keep doing, otherwise he'd fall apart.
He was stumbling from day to day, the hours and minutes stretching into an eternity. Hermione and Ron's presence hovering in the periphery of his vision like silent guardians. He knew they were trying to be there for him, but he wasn't that guy – he couldn't let them smell his weakness, couldn't allow them to impeach on his vulnerability, no matter how well their intentions were.
The clamp like vice squeeze again, and since he was alone he allowed it to take hold. He sank down against a wall, holding his stomach as though he were physically trying to keep himself from breaking in two, and he opened his mouth in a silent scream.
Not even caring if he could be seen by muggle or not, he apparated into the safety of his lounge, where the scream produced sound. A drawn-out, soul-destroying wail burst out of him. Photo frames and vases shattered from the magic that spilled out of the blonde, sending splinters of glass flying in all directions.
"Draco!" A voice cried out from the direction of the front door. Footsteps quickly approached and small hands were on his hunched back, feeling like branding irons. "Draco, you need to calm down – you're going to break the windows again." Hermione's voice soothed, rubbing burning hot circles onto his back. He wondered when he'd become so cold.
"Leave me alone, Granger, I don't need you!" Draco spat around the bile in his mouth. The vice was tightening and he was sure he was going to vomit.
The circles stopped but the hands remained. "Malfoy, you're going to make yourself ill! You need to calm down and get some sleep. I have some mild anxiety tablets for you." Hermione said with a little more bite than she probably intended.
"Isn't drug dealing illegal, Granger?" Draco asked, realising he held no venom in his voice. He just sounding flat and lifeless.
"You know full-well I'm a Weasley now, Malfoy! And they're over the counter." Hermione explained, pushing a bottle into his hand and giving him a small and extremely awkward hug, before wandering off into the direction of the kitchen.
Draco glanced at the bottle and wondered what would happen if he took the whole bottle. As though she could read his mind, Hermione's voice floated in over the sound of the kettle boiling "And they're herbal, so don't get any funny ideas because the most that will happen will be you'll throw up a lot!"
"What's happened?" Hermione asked as she sank down beside him on the lounge floor and handed him a cup of tea.
Draco glanced at her face and noted the dark circles under her eyes. He wondered what his own face looked like, but quickly brushed the thought away surmising that he probably didn't want to even know how terrible he looked.
He weighed his answer in his mind, deciding what it was Hermione was actually asking. Again, she appeared to read his mind as she clarified her request. "Has something happened today? Where have you been?"
Draco didn't bother to ask how she knew he had been out knowing that she had her ways of finding out information, so he answered her honestly. "They're letting Harry go." He said simply.
He felt rather than saw Hermione's body tense. Her breathing hitched slightly and he studiously ignored the urge to comfort her. After a few moments, she regained control over her emotions and the sound of her taking a sip of her tea filled the silence.
"I want him to come home." Draco admitted in a small voice.
He waited for the tirade. But it didn't come.
"Are you sure that's what you want, Draco?" She asked gently. It was clear from her tone that she disapproved.
"This is Harry's home, of course it's what I want!" Draco replied, annoyance beginning to bubble inside.
Hermione appeared to study Draco for a few moments, surveying him over her cup as she drank her tea. Draco simply cradled his own cup against his chest, having no desire to drink anything.
"Do you really think it will help you, Draco? Because if you do, there are spells we can use to…make it work, but it's not an indefinite solution. Harry will need to be laid to rest."
Draco recoiled. He wished people would stop saying that!
"I want him home, Granger!" He snapped. "I'll calm down and take your damn pills if he can just come home…please, Weasley."
Hermione bit her lip. "I'll see what I can do." She replied softly.
Draco settled onto the couch as darkness enveloped him, the only light coming from the street light that stood outside the house. The blonde had been spending most nights in the lounge, unwilling to enter the bedroom he had shared with Harry.
It had been one of the longest days since Harry had left, and it was one that could only be ended with a bottle of something very strong that would quickly induce a dreamless sleep he so craved.
Clutching the bottle of firewhiskey, Draco took long gulps – retching slightly as the liquid burned a trail down his oesophagus, but revelling as his mind began to cloud.
He remembered the pills from Hermione and pulled them out of his pocket, turning them over in his hand as he considered whether to take one.
He had no idea what would happen if he were to mix the Muggle medicine with the firewhiskey, and frankly he didn't really care. He unscrewed the cap and emptied a pill into his hand. He eyed it for only a few seconds before he threw it into his mouth and chased it down with more alcohol.
A crash from above jolted Draco awake. His heart slammed against his chest as he tried to place where and when he was. His head still felt cloudy and thick with alcohol, and he couldn't remember why he had woken up.
Another crash from above, and Draco was on his feet. He ran towards the stairs, slipping on the wood flooring in his haste. He collided with the staircase and cried out as pain radiated from his chest. He looked to the top of the stairs for the source of the noise, and for a brief moment panic settled inside as he contemplated the likelihood that he was being burgled.
Summoning his courage, he sprinted up the stairs, heading towards his bedroom door. He stopped short of the door, his hand hovering over the handle, "I'm armed!" He warned, and he tried his best to ignore the quiver in his voice.
He threw the door open, causing it to bounce against the wall behind. Darkness filled the room, and with shaking hands Draco reached across the wall in search of the light switch. As light fell across the room, presenting Draco with his unmade bed, a cry climbed up inside his throat and died on his lips.
Because stood before him, smiling his goofy grin, in all his messy haired glory, was Harry.
"Now, what's all this about wanting my body, Mr Malfoy!" He breathed.
Tbc.