not fixed.
Title: not fixed.
Author: omona_shi
Pairing: Harry/Draco
Rating: PG-15
Warnings: A lot of swearing, and depression theme.
Summary: There are times when others disappoint you, but in the end, it's you letting yourself become disappointed by your own expectations. Draco learns this the hard way. Harry learns something different.
It had been a horrible day. Draco had woken up feeling empty and full of crap at the same time and the throbbing headache didn't ebb away as it usually did after a hot shower. In fact, it got so bad he had pretty much tried to both drown himself in the bathub and burn himself to death with the scorching temperature at the same time. Potter didn't seem to notice or pay mind as Draco fumbled his way into the kitchen with the deathly expression on his face and he had left for work as quickly as he could. He didn't want to be left with his thoughts and with Potter, who couldn't seem to give two shits.
Something in his head told him he was being melodramatic and irrational, but perhaps it was Draco who didn't give two shits about anything anymore. Work was oddly a welcome relief from thinking about all the things wrong with his life and he sat himself down quietly at the kitchen table that night, thanking Merlin privately for the period of silence he was allowed. He usually didn't like being excluded or alone very much, but God, if it wasn't his saving grace that moment.
"There you are, you ran off quickly this morning," Draco jumped in his seat as the door slammed shut behind Harry as he entered. He shrugged as noncommittally as he could and rubbed at his temples.
"I didn't want to be late," he replied.
Harry raised an eyebrow and quirked a grin. "You're never late for anything," he teased.
"And you're late for everything," Draco snapped over his cup, "but you don't hear me giving you grief about it."
There was a silence that suddenly filled the room and Draco almost considered hurling his mug at the wall just to break the goddamned tension. The sound of a chair scraping along the expensive tile filled the air and he flinched at the harsh sound.
"Draco," said Harry with the firmest voice he could muster, "is this another episode? You know that you should have-"
"It's not a fucking episode," Draco hissed through his teeth; it was hard keeping his fury clenched down and he felt his hand shaking, "I don't have fucking epilepsy, and for the love of fucking Merlin stop telling me what I need to do!"
The look on Harry's face would have made him feel as guilty as killing a newborn if not for the hard edges of his lips, pinched together in an unforgiving frown.
"You said, Draco, you made a promise that you'd go and book an appointment at a therapist. Even Blaise recommended you one, and I know if there's anyone you ever listen to it's your friends."
The temperature of Draco's expression could have rebuilt glaciers. "So you're saying I never listen to you, is it? I never mean any of my promises? I'm a useless piece of shit until I'm crying to a goddamn doctor admitting I'm ill?"
This was so fucking typical. It happened each time Draco had a lapse into his depressive tendencies and the dread of having this argument over and over again almost eclipsed the hatred for his mood. Potter didn't fucking understand that it wasn't his fault. He didn't understand that Draco hated his depression more than Harry did and he most certainly didn't need to have the fucking Saviour of the Wizarding World telling him what was best to do. The first few times, Harry had been wary and reluctant to set Draco off more than he was already and Draco explained to him what entailed his monthly relapses. It was hard; you don't just tell someone how to react in order to comfort you- at least, his pride most certainly didn't let him. It went alright for the first few times, but then Potter got fed up. His tolerance somehow started thinning and now, each month it was this argument all over again. He would be stubborn as a mule and Draco had to be the one to start swooping in and admitting his wrongdoing if he didn't want Potter to walk out the door and never look back. Right now, however, he thought that walking out the door and not looking back sounded like a pretty swell idea.
Harry folded his arms across his chest and matched Draco's expression with one of his own. "You know that wasn't what I meant. You just refuse to act on what you know is right! Your pride's stuck up in your brain somewhere and taken up all the space. It's not a weakness to get help from someone who knows how to fix you."
"I can't be fixed, Harry," Draco's voice had fallen to a soft whisper as he felt his voice giving way to frustrated tears, "I can't be fixed. You have Weasley and Granger and all your bunch of stupid friends, while I've been living my life trying to keep everything I ever feel away from others." Draco looked up and god did he wish he could burn through Harry's ribs with a single glare. "This is why we're fighting. You're trying to make me think like you, become you, because you're normal. You don't ever have to listen to other people at work being complimented and wonder 'why not me?' You're the fucking hero of everyone's dreams, Harry, you don't need to prove yourself. You don't need to spend night and nights thinking that you're worthless anymore and how to go on about life like none of it affects you. You've never had to ask for validation or deal with everyone pretending your efforts are non-existant, because you're the great fucking Harry Potter and everyone falls to their knees at your mere, glorious presence!"
"How could you say that?" Harry's face had turned a nasty red hue and Draco could tell he was boiling from anger, if not from his face then from the thunderous holler his voice had become, "you know I lived with the Dursleys! I confided to you everything about my childhood and now you're accusing me of not knowing pain, like you're some bloody martyr? Grow up, Draco, the world doesn't revolve around you and your problems!"
Much to both their horror, Draco started laughing. It was a mad sort of hysterical laugh, and really, this was hilarious. Absolutely fucking hilarious.
"No, no it doesn't," he glanced up and this time, he did throw the infernal mug at the wall behind him. It was almost a casual movement of the arm, and Harry shot straight up out of his seat and stared at Draco with some abstract bewilderness like he didn't recognize him. Draco smiled as frighteningly as he could. He knew he looked a state, with the skin under his eyes creasing from dried, unshed tears and a smile that probably looked like a wolf baring his fangs.
"You do realize that we've probably had this argument ten times now? Every time, it's the same thing. At the end of each one I start crying and beg for your forgiveness and confide in how unworthy I feel I am, and you pat me on the back and tell me that it's alright as long as I get better. It never changes. That's the problem. I don't get better, and you don't become more accepting. You don't help, you just do. Like you're expecting to go somewhere to have a wand waved over me and I'll repair myself like mother's vases. You never sit me down and talk about anything, or comfort me or even try. I think Hermione's done more research on me than you've ever even attempted."
Draco got up from his seat with a sort of grace he didn't think he had left. He watched as Harry's eyes flickered over his legs uncertainly and he moved closer until they were right in front of each other. He placed a cold hand on Harry's cheek and held it as softly as possible.
"All I've ever wanted was to cry to you without judgement. To feel you coaxing me back to normal, to have you tell me everything's going to be alright. I didn't need you to tell me to fix myself, Harry, I just needed your love and in time I'd grow enough courage to go and be fixed. For you. Because I wouldn't want to disappoint you, because you deserve better than a broken man." Draco stroked a thumb across Potter's warm cheek and looked softly into his eyes.
"I don't think you've realized this Harry, but even though the world doesn't revolve around me, mine revolves around you."
Harry was still frozen in place with his back to the wall by the time Draco had made it across to the foyer, and the front door closed behind him, leaving only a last, fleeting glimpse of an expression of growing regret. He would only let himself be saved by Harry Potter so many times and by God, it was high time he learned how to save himself.
Thank you for reading.
Author: omona_shi
Pairing: Harry/Draco
Rating: PG-15
Warnings: A lot of swearing, and depression theme.
Summary: There are times when others disappoint you, but in the end, it's you letting yourself become disappointed by your own expectations. Draco learns this the hard way. Harry learns something different.
It had been a horrible day. Draco had woken up feeling empty and full of crap at the same time and the throbbing headache didn't ebb away as it usually did after a hot shower. In fact, it got so bad he had pretty much tried to both drown himself in the bathub and burn himself to death with the scorching temperature at the same time. Potter didn't seem to notice or pay mind as Draco fumbled his way into the kitchen with the deathly expression on his face and he had left for work as quickly as he could. He didn't want to be left with his thoughts and with Potter, who couldn't seem to give two shits.
Something in his head told him he was being melodramatic and irrational, but perhaps it was Draco who didn't give two shits about anything anymore. Work was oddly a welcome relief from thinking about all the things wrong with his life and he sat himself down quietly at the kitchen table that night, thanking Merlin privately for the period of silence he was allowed. He usually didn't like being excluded or alone very much, but God, if it wasn't his saving grace that moment.
"There you are, you ran off quickly this morning," Draco jumped in his seat as the door slammed shut behind Harry as he entered. He shrugged as noncommittally as he could and rubbed at his temples.
"I didn't want to be late," he replied.
Harry raised an eyebrow and quirked a grin. "You're never late for anything," he teased.
"And you're late for everything," Draco snapped over his cup, "but you don't hear me giving you grief about it."
There was a silence that suddenly filled the room and Draco almost considered hurling his mug at the wall just to break the goddamned tension. The sound of a chair scraping along the expensive tile filled the air and he flinched at the harsh sound.
"Draco," said Harry with the firmest voice he could muster, "is this another episode? You know that you should have-"
"It's not a fucking episode," Draco hissed through his teeth; it was hard keeping his fury clenched down and he felt his hand shaking, "I don't have fucking epilepsy, and for the love of fucking Merlin stop telling me what I need to do!"
The look on Harry's face would have made him feel as guilty as killing a newborn if not for the hard edges of his lips, pinched together in an unforgiving frown.
"You said, Draco, you made a promise that you'd go and book an appointment at a therapist. Even Blaise recommended you one, and I know if there's anyone you ever listen to it's your friends."
The temperature of Draco's expression could have rebuilt glaciers. "So you're saying I never listen to you, is it? I never mean any of my promises? I'm a useless piece of shit until I'm crying to a goddamn doctor admitting I'm ill?"
This was so fucking typical. It happened each time Draco had a lapse into his depressive tendencies and the dread of having this argument over and over again almost eclipsed the hatred for his mood. Potter didn't fucking understand that it wasn't his fault. He didn't understand that Draco hated his depression more than Harry did and he most certainly didn't need to have the fucking Saviour of the Wizarding World telling him what was best to do. The first few times, Harry had been wary and reluctant to set Draco off more than he was already and Draco explained to him what entailed his monthly relapses. It was hard; you don't just tell someone how to react in order to comfort you- at least, his pride most certainly didn't let him. It went alright for the first few times, but then Potter got fed up. His tolerance somehow started thinning and now, each month it was this argument all over again. He would be stubborn as a mule and Draco had to be the one to start swooping in and admitting his wrongdoing if he didn't want Potter to walk out the door and never look back. Right now, however, he thought that walking out the door and not looking back sounded like a pretty swell idea.
Harry folded his arms across his chest and matched Draco's expression with one of his own. "You know that wasn't what I meant. You just refuse to act on what you know is right! Your pride's stuck up in your brain somewhere and taken up all the space. It's not a weakness to get help from someone who knows how to fix you."
"I can't be fixed, Harry," Draco's voice had fallen to a soft whisper as he felt his voice giving way to frustrated tears, "I can't be fixed. You have Weasley and Granger and all your bunch of stupid friends, while I've been living my life trying to keep everything I ever feel away from others." Draco looked up and god did he wish he could burn through Harry's ribs with a single glare. "This is why we're fighting. You're trying to make me think like you, become you, because you're normal. You don't ever have to listen to other people at work being complimented and wonder 'why not me?' You're the fucking hero of everyone's dreams, Harry, you don't need to prove yourself. You don't need to spend night and nights thinking that you're worthless anymore and how to go on about life like none of it affects you. You've never had to ask for validation or deal with everyone pretending your efforts are non-existant, because you're the great fucking Harry Potter and everyone falls to their knees at your mere, glorious presence!"
"How could you say that?" Harry's face had turned a nasty red hue and Draco could tell he was boiling from anger, if not from his face then from the thunderous holler his voice had become, "you know I lived with the Dursleys! I confided to you everything about my childhood and now you're accusing me of not knowing pain, like you're some bloody martyr? Grow up, Draco, the world doesn't revolve around you and your problems!"
Much to both their horror, Draco started laughing. It was a mad sort of hysterical laugh, and really, this was hilarious. Absolutely fucking hilarious.
"No, no it doesn't," he glanced up and this time, he did throw the infernal mug at the wall behind him. It was almost a casual movement of the arm, and Harry shot straight up out of his seat and stared at Draco with some abstract bewilderness like he didn't recognize him. Draco smiled as frighteningly as he could. He knew he looked a state, with the skin under his eyes creasing from dried, unshed tears and a smile that probably looked like a wolf baring his fangs.
"You do realize that we've probably had this argument ten times now? Every time, it's the same thing. At the end of each one I start crying and beg for your forgiveness and confide in how unworthy I feel I am, and you pat me on the back and tell me that it's alright as long as I get better. It never changes. That's the problem. I don't get better, and you don't become more accepting. You don't help, you just do. Like you're expecting to go somewhere to have a wand waved over me and I'll repair myself like mother's vases. You never sit me down and talk about anything, or comfort me or even try. I think Hermione's done more research on me than you've ever even attempted."
Draco got up from his seat with a sort of grace he didn't think he had left. He watched as Harry's eyes flickered over his legs uncertainly and he moved closer until they were right in front of each other. He placed a cold hand on Harry's cheek and held it as softly as possible.
"All I've ever wanted was to cry to you without judgement. To feel you coaxing me back to normal, to have you tell me everything's going to be alright. I didn't need you to tell me to fix myself, Harry, I just needed your love and in time I'd grow enough courage to go and be fixed. For you. Because I wouldn't want to disappoint you, because you deserve better than a broken man." Draco stroked a thumb across Potter's warm cheek and looked softly into his eyes.
"I don't think you've realized this Harry, but even though the world doesn't revolve around me, mine revolves around you."
Harry was still frozen in place with his back to the wall by the time Draco had made it across to the foyer, and the front door closed behind him, leaving only a last, fleeting glimpse of an expression of growing regret. He would only let himself be saved by Harry Potter so many times and by God, it was high time he learned how to save himself.
Thank you for reading.