Disclaimer: This work contains mature and explicit themes including but not limited to violence, drug and alcohol abuse, self-harm, suicidal ideation and many more. Please consider your own triggers prior to reading this work. Please take care of yourself and skip this one if you need to.
Please just know this: Because you are, I am, and because you were, I was. There is no Harry Potter without Daphne Greengrass. My story doesn't exist without you.
December 2004
Addiction is a disease in which you don't have control over doing, taking, or using something, to the point where it can be harmful to you.
Addiction is a disease. A disease which left untreated will kill you.
Harry Potter is an addict, and addiction very nearly killed him when he overdosed in December of last year.
His first addiction was to dreamless sleep. His second to alcohol. His third to heroin.
Addiction is a disease.
And Harry Potter is an addict.
But he is recovering.
Weeks had passed since Harry had overdosed. Since Ron had found him blue and unbreathing, and had broken his ribs as he manually pumped his still heart and saved his life. Weeks had passed since he had come home to Daphne and had taken part in her "lapse in judgement," as she had called it.
Gone was his desire to use or to drink. Gone was the urge for a cheap high. Instead, when he thought of syringes and tourniquets, of decanters and glass bottles, he felt as if those things were attributed to someone else. To the person who had died on the couch in his drawing room, not the one who awoke in the hospital two days later.
This was a victory. So why did he feel like he had lost?
"Listen Harry, I care for you deeply. I still love you, but…but what happened last night happened because we were both emotional, it can't happen again."
The words had been playing on a loop in his mind.
"I still love you."
"It can't happen again."
"Love you."
"Can't happen."
"Love."
"Can't."
In the weeks that had passed since their lone encounter he hadn't spoken to Daphne, and she hadn't reached out to him, but today that would change. He sat at his desk, unfurled a roll of parchment and began to write.
The letter was short. A hesitant inquiry.
'Daphne,
I hope this letter finds you well. I understand if you no longer want to see me, but I was hoping we could maybe just talk. I don't want to lose you.
With love,
Harry Potter'
Daphne was usually quite quick to respond, but Harry didn't expect her to reply straight away. After the third day, however, he grew concerned he wouldn't receive a letter at all, and on the seventh he had all but resigned himself to his fate. So, on the tenth day, when an owl beat against the pane of glass in Harry's kitchen window as he poured himself a cup of tea from the kettle, he had glanced up, expecting to see Pigwidgeon and his heart skipped a beat when he recognized Daphne's owl instead.
He quickly opened the window, offering the owl a treat and water before rolling out the parchment that had been tied to its leg.
'Harry,
I don't want to lose you either. I think a conversation would be good. I'll be at the Indian place today at 3:00, maybe I can see you there.
Daphne'
Harry glanced at the watch on his wrist and saw that it was already past noon. He set his tea down and ran a hand through his hair as nervous energy bubbled up inside of him. A sense of eager anticipation and excitement, laced with an undertone of dread.
He made his way up the stairs and into the shower.
At a quarter to three, Harry arrived at the muggle restaurant that he and Daphne frequented. They were both fans of Indian cuisine, and Nott wasn't, so they would often come here together. Harry pulled his coat tight around himself as he walked towards the shop.
The London sky was grey and the air around him was cold and biting at the exposed flesh of his face. The early February rain had been unrelenting the last few weeks but thankfully the world gave him a minor reprieve as he hurried his way inside.
When he entered the restaurant, a wave of pleasant warmth crashed over him as the smell of cardamom and other assorted spices wafted through the air. He took off his knitted cap and gloves and saw Daphne sitting in the corner of the shop. Her eyes were fixed on him, her expression unreadable. He tried for a smile, but it came out tight-lipped and didn't quite meet his eyes.
As he walked towards her, she made no move to stand and hug him in greeting like she often did. Instead, she continued to watch him as he neared the table.
"Hullo," he greeted quietly.
"Hi, Harry."
"May I?" he asked, gesturing to the seat in front of her.
"Please."
Harry sat and for a long moment neither of them spoke.
"I can't bear to lose you." Harry was surprised by the words, despite the fact that they came from his own mouth.
Daphne's eyes softened for a moment and then her expression hardened. "What we did. It isn't okay," she told him softly. "I loved you, Harry, I still do. And obviously there's a piece of me that..." her voice trailed off.
"Daph—"
"This last month…I—I've thought about you every day, and sometimes you're all I can think about." Her voice became more urgent, and her eyes were pleading with him to understand.
"Most times you're all I can think about too," he confessed.
She shook her head. "Exactly, Harry. And that's why we can't do this anymore." She sighed and her eyes filled with tears that glistened in the faint light from the overhead lamps. "You pull up these emotions in me that I don't even know exist."
Harry felt his chest tighten, and despite her tone, her words caused something warm to spread through him. "Daphne, I don't—"
She cut him off. "I've been mostly able to keep it at bay, Harry. But then a week before everything happened, I had asked to meet you for lunch, just a simple letter like we've sent 100 times in the last year, and you said you were ill." She took a moment to compose herself. "And suddenly I was ready to drop everything to try to make you feel better, I was ready to skip work and forgo plans for you and I knew that those feelings weren't okay, but I pushed it aside."
Harry watched as her gaze shifted to the table; as her hands wrung nervously. "And then Theo proposed a few days later and the first thought that ran through my head was how is Harry going to react to this?" The tears that had been shining in her eyes began to fall and Harry reached across the table and wiped them away with the pads of his thumbs like he so often did when she cried. She smiled bitterly and then took his hands in hers and set them on the table away from her.
Harry's heart hurt.
"But I said yes, Harry. Because I do love him. He treats me well, with kindness and respect; cares for me deeply. I know you didn't want to get to know him, Harry, but you would love him. He's as incredible as they come, and I want to marry him."
Harry's heart sank from his chest into his stomach and then shot back up again and he felt nauseous. "I know Daphne, that's okay."
"But it's not okay," she told him urgently. "Because after I said yes, I was only thinking of you, and how you would react. I knew it would be difficult for you, so I wrote, and then I wrote again, and then a third time. Three times, Harry, and you declined to meet with me every time. I was worried sick about you; I asked Andromeda to let me come see you, but she said you were holding up okay, and so I tried to give you the time and space to work through what you needed to work through.
"And then I got a message from Hermione saying you were in the hospital." Her voice cracked, and the tears flowed again. Harry again wiped them away and this time Daphne didn't remove his hands. "And she told me you died of an overdose, but that they resuscitated you." She nuzzled into his hands for a moment before pulling away.
"I'm so sorry," he whispered in reply.
"She said you died. She said you died, and I panicked. I cried myself to sleep both of those nights. Reached out to Andromeda and Ron and Hermione for updates every day and when they told me you would be cleared to come home on Christmas Eve, I spent the entire day at Grimmauld Place, pacing between the fireplace and the front door. Hours of nothing but a worried back and forth and when I heard that doorknob rattle…"
Harry understood now. He could see how the emotions of the previous week had led her to what had happened.
"I needed to know you were alive and you were, and then you unintentionally pulled those emotions inside of me up like they were attached to marionette strings and—"
"And you had a lapse in judgement," Harry finished for her.
Daphne nodded.
He was quiet for a long time. "So where do we go from here?" he asked her.
"You said you can't bear to lose me." Harry nodded. "The truth is I don't think I can bear to lose you either, Harry. I tried to live without you for two years and I regret it every day, but what happened can't happen again. And things need to change. We can't…I can't continue on with the casual intimacy; the handholding and the hugs."
She took a breath to steady herself once more. "They mean too much to me. Make me feel too strongly and I can't do that to Theo. I was wrong to let it happen in the first place. If that's not something you're capable of, I would understand if you'd rather not see me at all."
"If that's what you need, to stop the casual intimacy, I understand and I have no problem with it." Harry lied.
Daphne studied him intently, her brilliant blue eyes searching his own. "You're sure?"
"I'm sure. I refuse to live a life that doesn't include you, so I'll take you however I can get you. There is no me without you, Daphne."
Daphne shook her head. "Don't say that, Harry."
"It's true."
Their meetings were less frequent following their conversation than they had been before. Rarely did they meet more than once a week, and it wasn't rare to have a week and a half, or two weeks pass between their time spent together.
Harry quickly began to realize that he anticipated spending time with her much the same way he had used to anticipate his next hit or drink when he was using. 'Once an addict, always an addict,' he thought to himself bitterly.
They never spoke of Theodore, never spoke of her upcoming wedding, which still had no date, and for brief moments Harry could almost imagine that nothing had changed. Daphne no longer initiated physical contact, and if Harry did, unintentionally or otherwise, she would stop him. Only on rare occasions would she touch his shoulder, or punch his arm, and he clung to those moments desperately, holding onto them for dear life.
In mid-April things shifted slightly when they had gone on a flying lesson together with Teddy. The boy would be seven in a few weeks and Daphne adored him. Whenever she was around, his eyes would shift until they were blue, and his hair would take on her blonde waves. The day had been so perfect, so blissful, so domestic, that Harry ached at the end of it.
Teddy had spent the afternoon hinting to Harry that he was outgrowing the broom he got him a couple of years ago and Harry was keeping his lips sealed about the fact that he would be upgrading to the firebolt adolescence line soon.
After he took Teddy back home, he asked Daphne if she needed to leave. "Theo's in Romania on business, so I have some time," she replied. "Why do you ask?"
Harry felt a knife in his chest at the mention of her fiancé, but he pushed it aside. "I was going to see if you wanted to go flying a bit longer."
"You know better than anyone that I prefer to be on the ground," she replied.
"I also know better than anyone, that that's just something you say until you're in the air," he shot back with a soft smile. "If you don't want to that's okay."
Daphne hesitated for the briefest of moments, but then her eyes steeled. "If your warming charms are subpar, I'll be extremely cross," she teased, just like she had all those years ago. Harry offered his hand, and she took it. A soft pop later they were back in the field they had been in, and Harry cast a nonverbal warming charm through her hand before letting go. She sighed contentedly.
"You wanna sit up front again?" he asked, and Daphne nodded. She swung her leg over the broom and Harry mounted it behind her, reaching his arms around her to grip the wood at the front. She burrowed herself back into his chest, from nervousness of flying Harry knew, and not because she wanted to be close to him.
Harry tried not to feel too sad. Moments like this were so few and far between now that they caused his stomach to explode with butterflies like they did for her when he was 16.
He flew her in slow lazy circles around the field. There was no beautiful lake, or snow-covered castle, but this time it felt even more serene, more surreal than their initial flight had. He could smell her, still grapefruit and flowers and vanilla, and just like during that first broom flight, he felt utterly intoxicated by her.
They floated high above the world together. The late April air beginning to cool as the sun set behind the hills and cast her in a rosy glow. "I love you, Daph," he told her quietly.
Her eyes softened and she turned towards him. Her cheeks were pink from the thrill of flight, and her hair whipped in the air around her ethereally as strands caught the wind and the last rays of the days dying light and gave her an angelic halo.
"I love you too."
When they landed a quarter of an hour later, he told her goodnight and when she apparated away he felt real physical pain as his chest yearned for her, and Harry knew that this would have to end. He knew he wasn't strong enough to watch her marry someone else, but try as he might, he couldn't bring himself to admit that to her or anyone else. For now, he would just have to continue and savor what moments he could.
A few months later they went to a muggle ice cream shop together to stave off the sweltering heat of the July sun. They walked side by side, cones in hand, and spoke of nothing important when Daphne reminisced on their first broom flight.
"It was almost ten years ago," she said, smiling sadly. "Can you believe it? We're getting old."
Harry looked at her softly. The truth was he felt like he had aged far more than ten years since then. It felt like he had lived three separate lives since then. "That was one of the best nights of my life up to that point," he told her instead of commenting on the time elapsed. "It's one of my favorite memories to this day."
"Mine too," she said softly.
Harry studied her for a second. "It's my patronus memory," He admitted quietly, and Daphne's head turned towards him sharply.
"Really?"
"Yeah."
She looked at him, and he could see her internally debating with herself before finally opening up. "Mine is when you knocked on my parent's door after the war; when you said that you had beaten him. When I found out that you had lived."
Harry looked at her intently. He had been expecting it to be something else, someone else. "Is it still?"
She nodded. "Always. Even when we were apart. I don't think I've ever been as happy as I was in that moment since then."
For some reason that broke Harry's heart.
"I'm sorry," he told her.
She looked startled by the apology. "For what?"
"For not giving you more happy memories."
"Harry," she breathed. "Most of my happy memories are with you. Even now. Since you've been in my life again, I've been so happy."
Harry had the urge to kiss her then, so strong he was about to give in, but his ice cream melted out of its cone and fell onto his shoes and that was enough to bring him back to the moment.
"You too," he said instead.
Daphne chewed on her bottom lip. "Me too?"
"Most of my happy memories are with you too."
After that day spent together Harry returned home and sat for a long while thinking. He came to the conclusion that he absolutely wouldn't be able to do it. He wouldn't be able to sit by and watch as she married someone else.
So where did that leave him?
In October Daphne and Theodore's wedding invitations had gone out. Harry hadn't received one. Daphne had spoken with him prior to them posting them, had wanted to ensure he was alright. He had told her he was fine, had even convinced himself for a moment that maybe he was, but a week later he had visited Ron and Hermione's flat and seen it on the coffee table.
It was white cardstock, brilliant gold lettering running across it. "Mr. Cyrus Greengrass and Mrs. Scarlett Greengrass alongside Mr. Theodore Nott Sr. & Mrs. Marlene Nott request the pleasure of your company at the wedding of DAPHNE GREENGRASS & THEODORE NOTT JR. on the 28th of March 2005."
Ron came in a few moments later and saw him reading the invitation. "Shit, Harry. I'm sorry. I should have made sure that wasn't there."
Harry looked at him with tears in his eyes. "I don't know if I can do this, Ron," he admitted.
"Do what?"
"Watch her love someone else." He attempted to take a steadying breath. "She's going to be married to him, and then she's going to have children with him, and I'll be where? Loving her from a distance? Wanting so badly to be with her, but not even being able to hug her?"
His breaths were becoming rapid and his thoughts frantic. He recognized the panic attack moments before it was about to overwhelm him, then he felt a body hug him. It was Ron.
"You're going to be okay, mate. It's hard now, but you'll find someone else who loves you and you'll learn to love them too."
Harry clung to him but shook his head. "It's only her, Ron. It's only her."
"It feels like that now, but I promise you it will get better. And if you can't stay here while you're getting over her then we can fuck off to Majorca or something, I'm sure Hermione could use the break from the Ministry."
Harry took a deep breath. "Yeah," he lied. "Yeah, maybe it'll get better."
But it didn't get better. Following the invitations Harry began to spiral. His anxiety rose up within him, and he became withdrawn and depressed. He didn't use, didn't drink, but sometimes he figured he would be better off if he were addicted to heroin or alcohol again instead of being in this state. At least then he had been so numb he could hardly feel anything at all.
He began to postpone meetings with Daphne because it hurt too much to see her. He stopped smiling. Hermione and Ron picked up on the mood shifts and they spent time with him almost daily. Andromeda suddenly needed more help with Teddy and Harry felt so much love and gratitude for them, but he couldn't keep doing this to them. He couldn't keep making everyone in his life worried.
And then suddenly, when the holidays rolled around, Harry's mood shifted. He was bright and jovial, joking and laughing easily. He saw Daphne on the morning of Christmas Eve at Grimmauld. He had asked her to come by a day early and she agreed.
"Happy Christmas," he told her, handing her a gift.
"You shouldn't have," she replied with a smile. "May I?"
Harry nodded and she tore the wrapping paper off before opening the velvet box. Inside sat a pair of earrings, stunning sapphires ringed with diamonds that sparkled in the faint light of the fireplace. "Harry." Her voice was soft. "They're gorgeous, but you shouldn't have."
"I had to complete the set," he told her quietly, referencing the ring and necklace he had gotten her a lifetime ago.
"Well thank you." She stood and hugged him. Harry reveled in the feeling of her, attempted to sear it into his mind. "I didn't know we were doing gifts today; I was going to bring yours to Andromeda's tomorrow evening."
Harry smiled. "That's fine, I just wanted to make sure you had this today."
Daphne closed the box. "Busy day planned today?" she asked him, and Harry nodded.
"Spending the early afternoon with Teddy and then this evening with Ron and Hermione at The Burrow."
"That sounds lovely."
"What about you?" he asked.
"Just spending the day with Theo, tomorrow we're going to try to do both Christmas's, his family in the morning and mine in the afternoon," she told him. Her voice was calm and casual, but Harry could see the concern in her eyes; that she was trying to make sure he was alright.
He decided it was now or never. "You're sure?" he asked. "About marrying him?"
Daphne looked at him, her face resolved. "Yes. I'm sure," she told him sternly, but not unkindly and Harry nodded.
"You know I love you, Daphne. I would treat you better than I did the first time. I wouldn't make those mistakes again."
"Harry," Daphne told him gently. "I love Theo. I love you too, but as a friend. You're my first love and that type of love can never die, but that doesn't change the fact that I'm going to marry him."
Harry nodded once. "Okay."
"You're alright?"
"Yeah," he said with a laugh. "This will be the last time I bring it up, I just…I had to try…one more time."
Daphne smiled at him and then stood. "I'll see you tomorrow?"
Harry stood as well, not answering her question but instead leading the way to the floo. "I hope you have a Happy Christmas," he told her.
"You too."
"I love you, Daphne."
"Love you, Harry."
The rest of the day had gone wonderfully. He had spent time with Teddy and Andromeda, the latter of which commented on how happy he looked.
"I've just figured some stuff out," he said, and she smiled.
"I'm glad."
Molly had commented on it too. "Chipper" was the word she used to describe his appearance and Harry had smiled.
Ron had clapped him on the back and said he looked good. Hermione had eyed him concernedly, but his overall good mood seemed to make everyone happy following the last two months of anxiety and depression. Before he left, he gave everyone a large hug and told them how much he loved them.
Hermione pulled him to the side. "Are you sure you're alright Harry?"
He looked at her and smiled, answering her honestly. "I'm the best I've been in a long time."
She hugged him then. "I love you, Harry. I'll see you tomorrow."
"I love you too Hermione, thank you."
When the evening had ended and he had returned home, the smile he had been wearing all day dropped. He sighed and walked into the study where he found the parchment and paper he had set on the desk earlier today.
Five pieces of parchment.
He sat down and began to write.
'Dear Andromeda,'
'Dear Ron,'
'Dear Teddy'
'Dear Hermione'
And finally,
'Dear Daphne,'
Daphne was sitting with Theodore on their couch. Her thoughts running through her last interaction with Harry from this morning. He had seemed so different. Happier, but in a resigned way. She knew something was off, but she couldn't quite place it. Of course, the upcoming wedding was weighing heavily on him, so she sighed and assigned that as the cause of his strange behavior.
She stood and took hers and Theo's mug from the coffee table intent on washing them before heading to bed for the evening, when tapping on the window caused her to veer in that direction instead. Who would be writing to them at such a late hour?
She recognized Harry's owl and opened the window quickly. Tied to his leg were five rolls of parchment and he held it out urgently. She grabbed the one with her name on it and the owl immediately flew back out of the open window and into the night.
Daphne unfurled the parchment, and she began to read. A paragraph into the letter she skipped to the bottom and then stuffed it into her pocket, rushing towards the floo as panic gripped at her throat like cold hands.
"Where are you going?" she heard from behind her.
"Grimmauld Place!" She shouted urgently, but not in response to Theo. The floo connection roared to life and then she stepped through the green flames.
She didn't bother to wipe the soot off her face or banish it from her clothes. "Harry!" she cried out, but she was met with silence. "Kreacher!" Again, silence. "Fuck, fuck, fuck, FUCK."
She ran into the drawing room, and that was where she found him. He was lying on the couch, a length of rope tied to a lamp on the wall, the other end a noose around his throat. She cast a cutting charm severing the rope and causing his head to drop quickly. She rushed over to him, taking the noose off and cradling his face. He was as cold as ice.
"Ennervate." she cast. Ennervate! Ennervate!" Harry's body bounced and the furniture around her scraped away from her in a circle from the force of the spells, but nothing changed. She shook him then with her hands. "Harry, please! Please wake up! Harry please, please, please. I'm begging you please wake up."
She wanted to get up and to call for help, but deep inside of her Daphne knew that he was gone. After his overdose, the healers had informed him that he had been close to dying after just five minutes with no oxygen, even with magic. It had likely taken closer to an hour for his owl to reach her, and he was already ice cold.
She ran her hands along the purple bruise on his throat that showed where the rope had asphyxiated him, and she clung to him. Her mind began to turn frantic as the gravity of what had happened began to crush her into herself. He would never smile again, never laugh. She would never again see his eyes light up in excitement or watch as he ran a nervous hand through his hair.
He lay still and lifeless, his expression so peaceful in death. The lines of his face had softened, making him look younger than his 25 years, so unbelievably young. She could almost imagine he was 16 again and they were sneaking kisses in empty classrooms. She thought back to that time when his biggest worry was Voldemort and surviving the war, and wondered if the dead Dark Lord felt some perverted sense of satisfaction in whatever hell he was in.
Daphne touched his cheek, like she had done countless times before. She felt his stubble, but his skin was ice. Unnaturally cold. She pulled her hand away and the tears blurred her eyes. "Oh Harry." She breathed, and then an involuntary sob pulled at the air in her lungs until they were as empty as her heart felt.
Suddenly the room was spinning, and Daphne couldn't get the oxygen she needed. Suddenly she wished she could go back and change every choice she had ever made. Done whatever it would have taken to ensure that he was okay. Find him and stop him from using dreamless sleep for the first time, never leave him when he had been struggling in the throes of addiction, never rekindle their relationship after he had gotten clean. Neither of them would have been happy, but at least he would have been alive.
'Don't blame yourself.' He had said in his letter, but who else was there to blame? She had been the reason why he'd done this. She had moved on, had tried to convince him to move on as well. She had once promised him they would be alone together but instead she had left him alone. And now he had repaid her in kind.
Daphne continued to sob. Large gasping breaths that she was powerless to stop tearing themselves from her. She closed her eyes, but that did nothing to stop the hot tears from falling. Whenever she cried in front of him, he would run his thumbs over her cheeks, wiping the tears away before embracing her and promising that things would be okay, but now he lay still while her tears worked their way down her face before falling onto his shirt.
She placed her head on his chest. He still smelled of Harry. Of spearmint and sandalwood, and vanilla. The scent brought her back in time. To that first evening in their alcove. To Slughorn's party. To their midnight broom their first kiss. To their embrace after he had defeated Voldemort.
It brought her back to more recent times. The new happy memories they had made, and the time spent together. The way he never missed an opportunity to tell her that he loved her.
She inhaled deeply, trying her best to remember the scent. Trying to memorize every last detail, preparing herself for the fact that he would be buried, and she would be left remembering memories of memories until the day she met him anew.
Daphne didn't know how much time had passed when she finally pulled herself up. Quiet hiccoughs still ran through her, and the tears continued to fall. She raised her wand, intending to cast a patronus, but found she couldn't muster the positive emotion needed to make the spell work.
She sighed and went over to the fireplace, starting a fire quickly before throwing a pinch of floo powder in, and placing her head in the flames. "Hermione Granger," she said softly.
Hermione and Ron would be the first call. Then Andromeda and lastly the Aurors would be called. They would come and investigate, and then they would take his body and the next time he'd be seen he would be in a casket. Daphne felt the tears begin again in earnest at the thought.
"Harry, hey…oh. Daphne, what a…pleasant surprise, what can I—are you crying?"
"You need to come here now," Daphne got out between the sobs which were starting once more. "He's gone."
"Who's gone? Daphne, what are you—"
Daphne pulled her head out of the flames. And stood back up on trembling legs. The floo roared to life a minute later and Hermione stepped through with Ron in tow.
Hermione was speaking, but Daphne couldn't make out the words. All she could hear was the sound of her heartbeat pounding in her head, and all she could think about was that Harry's own heart no longer beat.
She pointed at Harry, unmoving on the sofa, and Hermione's hands went up to her mouth. Ron ran over to him immediately, shaking him and urging him to wake up much the way she had while Hermione closed the distance between them and held her tightly.
Daphne sagged into her embrace; she could no longer be strong. She allowed herself to break down, Hermione gently guided her to the floor and held her tightly. She was still speaking but Daphne could hear nothing; nothing but Harry's sign off in the letter he had sent her. She heard it like she was on a broom in the cold of a Scottish December night.
'Happy Christmas Daphne.'
Except it wasn't, and it would never be. Because Christmas would forever be the day where two people died, but only one was buried.
Addiction is a disease in which you don't have control over doing, taking, or using something, to the point where it can be harmful to you.
Addiction is a disease. A disease which left untreated will kill you.
Harry Potter was an addict, and addiction very nearly killed him when he overdosed in December of last year.
Harry Potter was an addict, and his addiction did kill him in December of this year.
His first addiction was to dreamless sleep. His second to alcohol. His third to heroin. And his final addiction was to Daphne Greengrass.
Addiction is a disease.
And Harry Potter was an addict.
Dear Daphne,
This wasn't your fault.
Before I get to anything else I need you to understand that this wasn't your fault. If it weren't for you this would have happened long ago. You were the one that made me stick around even when I was at my lowest, even when life was no longer worth living. Because of you I got to spend more time with those that I loved here on this earth, but I can't do it anymore and I'm so, so sorry because I know part of you will think this is your fault, but I swear to you it isn't, it's my own fault, no one else's.
The truth is I was drowning; I have been for a long time and still am. Drowning under the weight of my failures, my guilt and the expectations everyone continues to heap onto me. Drowning under the weight of all the words I should have said, the things I should have done. Not just with you, but Ron, and Hermione, and everyone else too.
I treated you unfairly. I was selfish and greedy, and I took more than I was ever willing to give. For years and years, you put up with me. More than I deserved, more than anyone deserves. I took you for granted. I had convinced myself that I wasn't a piece of shit in the moment, but looking back at it now, I understand that you're a fucking saint Daphne Greengrass. No one should ever have had to endure someone who supposedly loves them treating them the way I treated you. It took me a long time to see that, an embarrassingly long time. I'm sorry. From the bottom of my heart, I am so fucking sorry.
I need you to understand that I love you. More than anything else in this world. I was thinking about the words you said to me the other day; about the way a first love can never truly die. Part of me finds solace in that fact. Maybe in some ways I will continue to live on, but my hope is that I don't. I hope that you can rid yourself of me, I hope you can bury that love alive if you need to, and that you instead get the love you deserve that I was never quite capable of giving you. God. I wish I had given it to you. You deserved it, and I was a selfish fucking coward.
You were an angel on earth. You were light in all my darkness. You were the source of joy in my sadness. You were clarity in my confusion. When I was with you was when I felt whole. When you were with me it wasn't just two people together in a room, it was two souls swimming in eternity. Every moment with you felt timeless. The time spent apart was always the hardest, but you were on my mind constantly. In the darkest of moments, when the waves crashed against me and threatened to sink me. You, Daphne Greengrass, were my lighthouse. You brought me safely to shore.
When you left, I allowed the darkness to take over; the anxiety to rule me. I was too stubborn to fix myself, so instead, I isolated myself. I hid from everyone including you. By the time I had figured it out, you had moved on. I don't blame you. I never expected you to wait for me to figure things out. I honestly didn't know if I ever would.
But the truth is, you did move on. I'm happy you did, really, I am. You deserve the world, and I don't think I'd ever be able to give it to you. All I could offer would be my broken self and that isn't enough. I'm not enough. I never would be. If I could go back in time and change the past, there would be a million things I would have done better, and they all would have revolved around you. A million ways I would have loved you more; a million ways I would have put you first.
If you want to blame yourself, blame yourself for all the good you've caused me instead. For the extra years of a life truly lived that I had because of you. For the only really happy moments I've had these last few years. For helping to keep me out of the dark pit of addiction. Even now I find solace in the fact that I won't be drunk or high when I give up my life. I'm so happy that this isn't an accidental overdose or me drinking until I fall over. It's me making a decision, taking control of my life and deciding for myself. So please Daphne. Please. From the bottom of my heart. Don't blame yourself.
I hope I've done enough to merit a happy after life. I hope my parents won't be too disappointed with the absolute fucking shit show I've made of their sacrifice. I hope one day, far, far from now, to see you there and thank you for all of this in person and not over a letter like a coward. But if I haven't done enough to merit that, then please just know this. Because you are, I am, and because you were, I was.
If it's not too much I'd like to ask you a quick favor. Check in on Teddy from time to time if you can. I've left everything to him. I regret being a deadbeat godfather almost as much as I regret the way I treated you. These last years spending time with him and you together have been the biggest blessing I could have asked for.
I love you Daph, I always will. This isn't your fault. I hope you found true love and happiness. Please don't miss me when I'm gone.
All my love,
Always and forever yours,
Harry Potter.
PS, Happy Christmas Daphne. Of every gift I've ever received, you were my favorite. I want you to know that. You were my favorite.
A/N:
Alright, first of all, suicide is never the answer. Suicide is never an option. If you struggle with your mental health or addiction there are resources out there that can help you. There are people out there that want to help you. I will include hotlines for the US and UK at the bottom of this note. You are not alone. You are loved. The world is a better place with you in it.
Okay, now let's dive into the story. I'm going to be completely honest, when I started writing this fic, I did not think it would do well. I figured I'd have a handful of people who read it, and I was sure it was going to be unpopular, and that was okay. My goal was to use my own personal experience dealing with people who suffer from addiction to write an authentic take on the subject matter, and to write a human take on relationships.
I approached this story with a high level of respect for those who suffer from addiction. I didn't want to pull punches and make it seem like less than it is. I also didn't want to make it seem like a death sentence. I wanted to show how easy it is to make a mistake and slip up and the absolute battle that it is to escape addiction. I used my background in medicine and my personal experiences as my foundation to make this as realistic as I could, I hope that that came across in the writing.
I also wanted to show how it affects people in a real way. A lot of you have commented recently about how much you dislike Daphne and Harry in this story. I can understand that. They weren't meant to be perfect characters; hell they weren't meant to be likable characters. They were only meant to be human. Neither of them was supposed to be the antagonist or protagonist of this story. The antagonist was always his addiction, and they were just two people navigating life while it was looming over them. Did they react perfectly? No. Did they make mistakes? Yes. Were their hearts in the right place and their intentions pure? I think so. That's why I was and am so proud of this story.
I know they both handled situations poorly, but for those of you who have had a long-term relationship that ended at some point, please take a moment to reflect back. When you've spent a significant amount of time caring for someone; when you've loved someone deeply, you are blind to what everyone else can clearly see. In this case, it was that being together did more harm than good for both of them, but they were both addicts.
Should Daphne have behaved differently after accepting Harry back into her life? Absolutely. Did Harry make matters worse by idealizing her to the point that he tried to blur boundaries despite knowing she was dating someone else? Of course he did. But you know what? I remember when my last relationship ended, and I did some pretty stupid stuff to try to salvage what I could because I had loved that person. It's not being stupid, it's being human.
I understand many of you are upset with the way this ended. That's okay. Feel free to yell at me in the comments and tell me I'm a terrible person. I don't mind. To those of you who have commented and told me how this fic brought back painful memories for you, I love you and I'm sorry. I hope that things are better now.
If nothing else, let this fic be a reminder to tell someone you care about that you love them today, or to reach out to a friend you haven't talked to in a while. Time is short. We never know when the last time we see someone might be the last time we see someone.
Thank you for reading. For the comments and favorites and kudos. I promise the next one will be fluffy. Be safe.
-Tpo
Suicide hotline:
USA- 988
UK- 111 (non-emergency line, someone will be available to talk)
Alcohol Addiction:
USA- 1-800-662-4357
UK- 0800 9177 650 (Alcoholics Anonymous)
Drug Addiction:
USA- 1-800-662-4357
UK- 0300 999 1212 (Narcotics Anonymous)