Chapter Text
Draco was getting better.
He really was.
Because he brushed his teeth twice today, and you know what he was quite proud of himself for it.
After the war, it was just so hard.
It was hard to wake up and then need to get up, it was hard to have to make sure he was eating, to make sure he brushed his teeth and showered in the mornings. It was hard to do everything when all he wanted was no more than to crawl back under his bedsheets and fall back asleep, hoping a little too much that he won’t have to wake up again.
But what was hardest was going to work. Getting up, brushing his teeth, showering, making breakfast, eating breakfast, getting dressed, show up to work, staying quiet through the day, remembering to eat lunch, deciding to skip lunch because you remembered the state of your desk when you came back last time, then waiting for the dreadful little seconds to slip away, feeling them slip away as if they were black oil on you as if you were trying to scrub away the darkness that seemed to latch onto your skin but the water won’t wash it away.
And then out of the generosity of the head Auror, or the cruelty, Draco hadn’t decided yet, he was partnered with Harry Potter.
Draco felt tired as always, he also felt the eyes that were on him and the little cruel questions that formed behind them. He let out a shaky breath, focussing harder on the file in front of him. The office he got moved to was bigger as to accommodate both of them, Potter’s side wasn’t messy but it wasn’t organised either. Draco’s side, he was happy to say, was spotless. That was one of the only things that made him feel good these days, everything on his desk where they’re supposed to be. It was something he could control. Some days it felt like the only thing he could control.
The eyes didn’t leave. Oh well. He’d be lying if he said he wasn’t used to eyes on him, but even so, he slouched the tiniest bit more, wishing he could crawl into a ball so Potter could stop fucking staring at him. He didn’t say anything though. He stayed quiet. Like he always stays quiet. Like he needs to stay quiet.
Because one word wrong and anyone could leave him bruised, bloody, and beaten behind an alleyway, with none of the Aurors going further than snorting when they hear about it.
Two words wrong and anyone could send him to Azkaban. For life probably.
Three words wrong and he’ll probably get the kiss. Some days he didn’t get why he kept quiet.
Potter was still staring.
Draco didn’t get what was so fascinating about him that got Potter staring at him for what must at least be ten minutes now. He heard the intake of breath before someone speaks, and hoped with everything that Potter stayed quiet.
“Why are you so quiet?” It was just a question, wasn’t even the worst one thrown at him. Not like the ones that asked why he was here, asked why he wasn’t rotting in Azkaban, asked why he was still alive when his death would so obviously be celebrated.
So why did it make him feel just as horrible?
Draco shrugged, not turning from the paper he was writing.
“I’ve heard what they say about you in the department and I know you’ve heard too. Ignoring the fact that they’re all right anyways-” His chest tightened. “-why don’t you ever say anything about it?”
For a moment there was just silence, an ugly uncomfortable silence that made Draco want to scream just to fill it.
Instead, he shrugged again, because they’re all right anyways.
He heard Potter huff in annoyance.
A small part of him thought ‘this is it, you’ve annoyed the saviour of the wizarding world and this is it’ the other part thought ‘Merlin he’s annoying’. Draco agreed with both.
“Merlin Malfoy, can’t you just look at me?” Draco paused his writing, his eyes darting to the top of his paper as he considered. As if he considering was an option, Potter asked for something and if Draco wanted to stay alive he better do it.
He placed his quill next to the file, looking up and turning to look Potter straight in the eyes. They’d been partners for half a year now, but this was the first time he’d looked straight into Potter’s green eyes since Hogwarts.
It felt horrible. He wanted to look down again.
Potter must’ve seen something in his eyes because Draco could see the emerald eyes widen and the slightly faster intake of breath. But then those eyes narrowed and that breath came out in an angry sigh.
“ Why don’t you do anything about it?” Potter asked through gritted teeth and Draco knew he had to answer this time. He felt his eyes tear up slightly, he looked back down to his file and grabbed the quill while clenching it too hard between his fingers, then softly, as softly as he could while still having Potter hear him. He gave him the answer that Potter gave him.
“Because they’re all right anyways.”
~^*^~
Breathe.
Breathe.
Breathe. Merlin damnit.
As Draco tried his best to focus on getting air through to his lungs, to gain control over his own fucking body a little note slipped from the sink onto the floor. The note was yellow, a bit smudged and nothing but a sticky note. On it, however, with messy black ink were six words scratched on with no care, fucking kill yourself filthy death eater.
He found it in his office, stuck in the centre of his desk like it was just a reminder for an upcoming deadline and five minutes later he had thrown up and was now trying his best to get his lungs to do their job.
“It’s okay, it’s okay, you’re okay, you’re okay, you’re fine.” Deep breaths. His chest felt pinched as if a rock was set on the middle of it and no matter how hard he tried air just couldn’t slip through. The rock wouldn’t go away it just got heavier and heavier and heavier and he couldn’t focus he couldn’t feel or hear, everything was too dull and too buzzed everything was too much too bright too loud.
Hands tangled into his hair as nausea coiled into his stomach again like a snake, he turned around and went straight into the cubicle before hurling. But there really wasn’t anything to sick up, he’d been too tired to do breakfast this morning and he had eaten a couple of biscuits yesterday for dinner.
The only good thing was that he could breathe again.
Draco flushed the toilet and walked back out slowly, trembling and feeling weak in his legs. He rinsed his mouth at the sink then washed his face, leaning himself against the sink and taking a few last deep breaths. He looked up and let the last breath out, walking out the bathroom.
He walked into his office to find Potter in it this time.
“Malfoy, you’re late.” He cast a tempus and saw that it had been 10 minutes since work started.
“Felt sick,” he explained. He looked at Potter then looked back down when he saw the green eyes directed at him, Potter didn’t look worried and he definitely didn’t look like he believed Draco. Why would he?
“What? Found a tiny bug in your bed when you woke up?” Draco walked towards his desk in slow steps, feeling like he might fall over any moment when he saw two more little notes stuck on his desk.
“Sure.”
~^*^~
Malfoy was quiet, he always was these days.
It annoyed Harry to no ends.
What? Did Malfoy decide he was too good to talk to anyone now? Well, newsflash to him he’s about as great as gum stuck under someone’s shoe.
He never looked at anyone in the eyes, when he did yesterday Harry had to tell, practically order, him to look at Harry. But when Harry looked at him, actually looked at him he felt sick himself. Malfoy’s eyes were dull and colourless, for as long as they've been partners he hasn’t shown more emotion than the little furrowing of his eyebrows or his eyes widening when he doesn’t expect someone to talk to him.
Truth is Harry recognised all the signs, he knew them, hell, he had them before getting a mind healer. But if Malfoy was too proud to talk or ask for help then he can rot slowly for all Harry cared.
Malfoy acted like the world would fall on him if he did anything wrong, he still thought the world revolved around him.
Harry didn’t think much when he saw two yellow notes stuck on Malfoy’s desk, he didn’t read them either. He sat down on his desk and cast a tempus, surprised to see that it was the required time for arrival and Malfoy wasn’t there, Malfoy was always early.
He shook his head and went to work, it felt odd. Malfoy hasn’t had a day of absence in Harry’s memory, even before they were partners.
Couple minutes later their office door opens, Malfoy walks in as if there were weights chained to his feet.
“Malfoy, you’re late.” He watched Malfoy cast a tempus himself, then say with a rough voice.
“Felt sick.” Harry saw Malfoy eyes dart to him before looking back down, he raised an eyebrow. Malfoy looked like he always was sick.
“What? Found a tiny bug in your bed when you woke up?” He chuckled a bit cruelly at the joke. Malfoy walked towards his desk, pausing a bit when he saw the two notes.
“Sure.” Harry glared at Malfoy for the bland response, getting up and walking to the bathroom to try and calm himself down.
He slammed the loo door open a little harshly, walking in then stopping when he saw another yellow note on the floor. Frowning, he walked up to it, his knees clicked as he lowered down to read it.
Fucking kill yourself filthy death eater.
Harry's mouth gaped, fuck , that’s why Malfoy felt sick.
Of course, Malfoy was early, he’s always early and that note must have been on his desk when he got there. He was late because he had to calm himself down after reading that shit message.
Harry felt guilt claw at him, for the first time ever he wondered if Malfoy had anyone he could ask for help from. Then a feeling of dread that hit him so hard it felt as if lightning had struck him, he remembered the two other notes that sat innocently on Malfoy’s desk, and anger he never felt before flooded into him.
He’s going to fucking kill a bitch.
He grabbed the note and scrunched it before throwing it into the bin, stomping his way back to the office. Throwing the door open with too much force again, his eyes went straight to Malfoy’s desk.
And all the anger left him at the same speed it came.
The notes were still there, untouched but Malfoy had obviously read them. His eyes were closed, opening every so often only to blink quickly before closing again. His hands were over his nose and mouth, the slight rise and fall of his shoulders indicating he was taking quick deep breaths with broken little noises coming through them.
Harry walked quickly towards him, turning Malfoy’s chair to the side and crouching down in front of him.
“Malfoy? Malfoy, look at me.” Harry grabbed Malfoy’s wrists, pulling them off of his face. Malfoy let out a choked sob, attempting in taking deep breaths again but having them get cut off as he struggled to let the air in.
“It’s okay. Hey, look at me,” Harry reached one hand to Malfoy’s cheek and turned his head to look at Harry. “You’re going to be fine, deep breaths, you’re going to be okay.” Malfoy let out a pained cry, slipping down his chair and clinging onto Harry tightly. Harry sat back from his crouched position and held onto Malfoy, placing him on his lap.
Malfoy’s hands dug into his back, Harry’s arms around him as he cried in broken gasps. Harry whispered the same phrases over and over again ‘you’re okay’, ‘you’re going to be fine’ ‘it’s okay’ ‘you’re safe now’, the arms around him tightened and nails dug into his back almost painfully as he said the last phrase.
“Please.” Harry’s eyes widened, this was probably the first time Malfoy had spoken without being prompted by others.
“It’s okay, it’s okay sweetheart, what do you need?” Malfoy was shaking horribly, his head pressed into Harry’s shoulder and he could feel a small wet spot forming. “What do you need? It’s okay to ask.”
“Stay.” Harry’s heart clenched at how small Malfoy sounded.
“Of course, I’ll be right here, I’ll be here for as long as you need. Okay, love?” He felt Malfoy nod into his neck.
“Thank you.” Malfoy raised his head, looking straight into Harry’s eyes. “Thank you,” he repeated.
Malfoy’s face was red, his cheeks tear-stained and his eyes watery. Harry reached a hand up and wiped some of the tears off, Malfoy looked incredibly endearing when he leaned into that hand. Then, in a bold and impulsive decision kissed some of the tears away. It was salty and Malfoy gasped softly, but he didn’t move away, so Harry continued, pecking away the streaks.
“Don’t kill yourself,” Harry whispered into Draco’s cheek, “you’re so beautiful and talented, please don’t kill yourself.” Draco let out anther broken sob. Harry kissed down his face, placing a soft small kiss at the corner of Draco’s mouth. He moved to look at Draco, his eyes now half-lidded and it seemed he had stopped crying.
Harry moved closer slowly, stopping when he was a breath away from Draco’s lips.
“I’ll be right here when you need me,” Harry whispered and Draco kissed him.
From then on, whenever Draco didn’t want to do something, whenever he was too tired to brush his teeth. Harry would stand behind him with arms wrapped around his waist and lips lazily pecking his neck.
Draco brushed his teeth twice every day.
And you know what?
He was very proud of himself.