FIC - NO CHALLENGE: The Waking Up
Title: The Waking Up
Summary: He says he needs a break from the war, from the popularity.
Pairing: Draco Malfoy/Harry Potter
Rating/Warnings: PG-13/ mild language, drug addiction, overdose, depression
Medium: Fic
Word Count: 1711
Author’s Notes: Title comes from Dreaming With A Broken Heart by John Mayer. Thank you to LL for the beta-read, DL for the medical advice, and amorette for her never-ending encouragement. Thank you to the mods for putting up with me. I loved this prompt and truly enjoyed working on this fic. Disclaimer: Harry Potter belongs to JKR. No copyright infringement is intended.
Can the Order post to Tumblr?: No.
The red hair is luminous, swirling around the woman as she dances. She meets his eyes and smiles. Those are his eyes.
--
Draco doesn’t quite believe Potter is sitting in this café, less than a block away from where Draco is working. Draco’s been off on the continent, leaving the war behind for the last few years. His father’s death has brought him back to England to both keep his mother company and run the family business. Narcissa is not aware, but Draco has offers on most of the enterprises. He intends to keep up with the potions initiative, Potionibus, but is anxious to release the rest; Draco has no intention of forsaking his life for endless, meaningless work, not to mention the Mastery in Potions he earned in Paris.
He approaches Potter after finishing off his double espresso.
“Come here often, Potter? This café is a bit out of the way on the Ministry.” As far as he knows, Potter is still an Auror.
Potter looks up. “Back, are you, Malfoy? Great. Have a seat if you’d like.”
Draco sits. He simply wants to gather gossip on Potter; Pansy would be quite upset if he let this opportunity go. Draco is most certainly not chatting Potter up because of the way his face has filled out or how his bum looked as he sat down.
Draco waves over a waiter. “You’re paying for my drink, Potter.”
Potter just grins.
--
Draco comes to the same café every morning, and the meet-up becomes routine; Draco drinks his double espresso while Potter sips at an overly sugared cup of tea. They chat, avoiding any deep subjects. Potter says he barely gets out anymore, doesn’t even really see his friends. He says he needs a break from the war, from the popularity. Draco, having spent six years on another continent, completely understands.
--
He spits out the liquid. “You should have warned me it was tequila, Pads!” Sirius doesn’t respond, bent over in two, laughing uproariously.
--
After two weeks, they sleep together for the first time. Potter blushes as he asks if Draco wants to come home with him. Draco calls in sick, and they spend the rest of the day in bed.
A month later, he moves in to Grimmauld Place. Pansy asks him why he left the Manor, and he says he’s found a new place. She gives him a knowing look. “And a new boy?” He doesn’t answer. Pansy’s been seeing Neville Longbottom for two years now and has no room to judge. Pansy is quiet for a moment and then starts on about Neville’s new promotion in the research division of St. Mungo’s.
--
Draco asks Harry if he’s on anything.
“You’ve been muttering in your sleep.”
Harry won’t meet his eyes. “Yeah, they switched me over to ketamine when the other anti-depressants didn’t work. No big deal.” He looks up at Draco and his voice sounds odd. “But I’m completely off now. After-effects, I guess.” He leaves the room.
--
Draco meets Pansy for lunch in Diagon Alley.
“You know, I saw Potter at Gringotts yesterday.” Pansy forks another cube of chicken.
Draco barely pauses in slicing his steak. “Mmm.”
Pansy rolls her eyes. “Darling, I’m not an idiot. And neither are the Goblins. They were asking him about excessive withdrawals.”
Draco swallows. “Not a topic of conversation usually brought up in the main lobby.”
“The meeting did not appear to be pre-arranged.” Pansy eyes him over her plate. “And he didn’t appear too healthy. I do hope someone is looking after him.”
Draco saws at his steak.
--
Mum gives Dad a kiss on the cheek. He grins and turns away to give them their privacy.
Remus’s eyes are glowing as he talks about Teddy (and his newly discovered fondness for chocolate). Tonks rolls her eyes at him before falling over, apparently, the wooden floor.
--
Draco stands outside the door for ten minutes before knocking. After a moment, Pansy comes to the door.
“For fuck’s sake, Pans.” She’s clothed only in a robe that doesn’t quite cover all. Draco pushes past her and heads to the kitchen. He finds the glasses and stash of whiskey (in the cupboard with the pots and pans) and pours two fingers before turning to face her again.
Pansy is leaning against the countertop, arms folded and eyebrow raised. “Dare I mention that it’s before eleven?” Draco doesn’t bother responding. He swallows the glass down, shakes his head to ease the burn, and pours again.
“Don’t bother.”
Pansy nods and gestures at him. He grabs a new glass and pours whiskey for her (one finger, she’s not heavy on drinking). Pansy waits for him to speak.
“I’ve been sleeping with Potter.” Draco keeps his head down, not exactly wanting to see her expression. “For a while now. Tonight, I found...” he chokes “…this.” He extends the bottle to her. The liquid is a ghastly pink through the glass, reminiscent of nauseating medications and overly happy children. “I don’t know what the fuck it is, but I’m thinking some sort of hallucinogen. He’s been muttering in his sleep. I’m…worried.”
He jumps at the hand on his arm. “I’ll show it to Neville, Draco. We’ll figure this out.” Draco ducks his head once more at the pity in her eyes.
--
Colin is snapping away on his camera. He laughs and shoves the camera away. Colin smiles anyway and babbles about a trip he’s going on next month.
The half-moon spectacles sparkle in the sun. Purple and an off-pink clash on long robes.
His parents dance around.
Moody is muttering.
He laughs with joy.
--
One night he finds Harry catatonic.
Draco’s meeting with the other associates runs long. As tired as he is of their obscene incompetence, their contracts last through autumn, demanding his presence as they spout nonsensical fluff about the potential reactions of hellebore in solutions with varying acidities. He has to call a break halfway through; he leaves the room for a moment to have an espresso and breathe before he returns to holds his tongue as Mr Krister finishes his discussion of advertisement options for the hellebore potion. Potionibus is dark and silent as he exits the front doors and heads around the corner to Apparate home. A quick twist, and he arrives at Grimmauld Place.
Goosebumps.
Draco draws his wand, and tiptoes down the hallway, leaving off lighting the candles that line the entrance. He has a vague feeling of distress, nothing he can quite put a finger on. The bedroom lights are on, throwing a triangular sliver onto the hallway. He slowly presses the door open and immediately drops his wand to the floor. Harry is lying across the bed, utterly still. His hand is holding an almost empty flask, his head is hanging off the end of the bed, and drool is slipping down his chin.
Draco jumps on the bed, straddling Harry, and prises open his mouth, sending a cascade of familiar vitriolic pink fluid down onto the floor. He pulls the flask from his hands, still containing a few millilitres of the garish pink. He chokes, and slaps at Harry’s cheek.
“Wake up, Potter!”
Sanity descends, and Draco bends down. At the vague thump of a pulse, Draco’s own heart re-starts. He gets off the bed and carries Harry to the bath, setting him gingerly down in the tub. He returns quickly to the bedroom and grabs his wand. Once more in the bath, he raises his wand, and - thinking of Harry waking up, smiling, kissing him - states “Expecto Patronum.” A single tear slides down his face, and he tells the Rottweiler to find Pansy. “Harry’s…overdosed. Hurry. Be discreet.”
He then points his wand at Harry and murmurs “Expulso!”
Harry’s body retches. Once again dropping the wand, Draco slips inside the tub behind Harry and soothes his hair back, using cool water from the tap to wash his face between convulsions.
Draco slides his arms around Harry’s torso, holding him tightly as the retches continue.
--
Pansy’s voice breaks through his mind. Draco is still in the tub, still holding an unresponsive Harry.
Pansy is speaking to him, he thinks. Her lips are moving, anyway. He doesn’t respond until Neville pushes past her and attempts to lift Harry away. A broken sob echoes around the room, and Draco realises it is coming from himself.
Neville is now speaking, his hushed voice whispering of help and potions and “Let’s move him to the bed.” Draco wants to punch him, but uses the energy to rise from the rub, brushing past Neville’s attempts to help and carrying Harry in his arms to their bedroom.
He is mesmerized as Neville waves his wand over Harry, numbers and swirls appearing in an offendingly colourful array over his boyfriend’s body. Neville says “Get him out of here.” And he is being tugged forcefully from the room by Pansy, screams doing nothing to stop Neville who has begun to cast spells over Harry, seemingly much more powerful versions of Draco’s prior Expulso.
He sits with Pansy outside the bedroom. She soothes one hand over his hair and keeps the other in a firm grip on his thigh, holding him down. The grandfather clock at the end of the hall chimes one. They had fought over the stupid thing. Draco had insisted that the timepiece gave a sophisticated air to the hallway; Harry thought the wooden carvings of ‘poncy old Blacks’ were pretentious. His mouth lets out a sob; he’ll throw the damn thing out if only Harry wakes up.
--
Pansy is whispering at him. He doesn’t know how he fell asleep.
“…and he was so worried. Ketamine is used to treat patients with PTSD and depression, but Neville says there are warnings for hallucinations and risk of addiction. The potion - he thinks it’s one of Weasley’s daydreaming potions - has an overly large concentration. He sent him an owl…”
Draco turns to the side and throws up.
--
He has been sitting by the bed for three days now. Pansy and Neville bring him food every now and then. He thinks they’re staying downstairs.
He whispers to Harry.
“Please, wake up.”
“We need to survive. We need to live happily.”
“I’ll throw out the clock.”
--
Harry opens his eyes.
Links:
At my journal: http://nathalieweasley.livejournal.com/31306.html
At AO3: http://archiveofourown.org/works/1390885
At hd_hurtfest: http://hd-hurtfest.livejournal.com/10460.html
57 points earned
Summary: He says he needs a break from the war, from the popularity.
Pairing: Draco Malfoy/Harry Potter
Rating/Warnings: PG-13/ mild language, drug addiction, overdose, depression
Medium: Fic
Word Count: 1711
Author’s Notes: Title comes from Dreaming With A Broken Heart by John Mayer. Thank you to LL for the beta-read, DL for the medical advice, and amorette for her never-ending encouragement. Thank you to the mods for putting up with me. I loved this prompt and truly enjoyed working on this fic. Disclaimer: Harry Potter belongs to JKR. No copyright infringement is intended.
Can the Order post to Tumblr?: No.
The red hair is luminous, swirling around the woman as she dances. She meets his eyes and smiles. Those are his eyes.
--
Draco doesn’t quite believe Potter is sitting in this café, less than a block away from where Draco is working. Draco’s been off on the continent, leaving the war behind for the last few years. His father’s death has brought him back to England to both keep his mother company and run the family business. Narcissa is not aware, but Draco has offers on most of the enterprises. He intends to keep up with the potions initiative, Potionibus, but is anxious to release the rest; Draco has no intention of forsaking his life for endless, meaningless work, not to mention the Mastery in Potions he earned in Paris.
He approaches Potter after finishing off his double espresso.
“Come here often, Potter? This café is a bit out of the way on the Ministry.” As far as he knows, Potter is still an Auror.
Potter looks up. “Back, are you, Malfoy? Great. Have a seat if you’d like.”
Draco sits. He simply wants to gather gossip on Potter; Pansy would be quite upset if he let this opportunity go. Draco is most certainly not chatting Potter up because of the way his face has filled out or how his bum looked as he sat down.
Draco waves over a waiter. “You’re paying for my drink, Potter.”
Potter just grins.
--
Draco comes to the same café every morning, and the meet-up becomes routine; Draco drinks his double espresso while Potter sips at an overly sugared cup of tea. They chat, avoiding any deep subjects. Potter says he barely gets out anymore, doesn’t even really see his friends. He says he needs a break from the war, from the popularity. Draco, having spent six years on another continent, completely understands.
--
He spits out the liquid. “You should have warned me it was tequila, Pads!” Sirius doesn’t respond, bent over in two, laughing uproariously.
--
After two weeks, they sleep together for the first time. Potter blushes as he asks if Draco wants to come home with him. Draco calls in sick, and they spend the rest of the day in bed.
A month later, he moves in to Grimmauld Place. Pansy asks him why he left the Manor, and he says he’s found a new place. She gives him a knowing look. “And a new boy?” He doesn’t answer. Pansy’s been seeing Neville Longbottom for two years now and has no room to judge. Pansy is quiet for a moment and then starts on about Neville’s new promotion in the research division of St. Mungo’s.
--
Draco asks Harry if he’s on anything.
“You’ve been muttering in your sleep.”
Harry won’t meet his eyes. “Yeah, they switched me over to ketamine when the other anti-depressants didn’t work. No big deal.” He looks up at Draco and his voice sounds odd. “But I’m completely off now. After-effects, I guess.” He leaves the room.
--
Draco meets Pansy for lunch in Diagon Alley.
“You know, I saw Potter at Gringotts yesterday.” Pansy forks another cube of chicken.
Draco barely pauses in slicing his steak. “Mmm.”
Pansy rolls her eyes. “Darling, I’m not an idiot. And neither are the Goblins. They were asking him about excessive withdrawals.”
Draco swallows. “Not a topic of conversation usually brought up in the main lobby.”
“The meeting did not appear to be pre-arranged.” Pansy eyes him over her plate. “And he didn’t appear too healthy. I do hope someone is looking after him.”
Draco saws at his steak.
--
Mum gives Dad a kiss on the cheek. He grins and turns away to give them their privacy.
Remus’s eyes are glowing as he talks about Teddy (and his newly discovered fondness for chocolate). Tonks rolls her eyes at him before falling over, apparently, the wooden floor.
--
Draco stands outside the door for ten minutes before knocking. After a moment, Pansy comes to the door.
“For fuck’s sake, Pans.” She’s clothed only in a robe that doesn’t quite cover all. Draco pushes past her and heads to the kitchen. He finds the glasses and stash of whiskey (in the cupboard with the pots and pans) and pours two fingers before turning to face her again.
Pansy is leaning against the countertop, arms folded and eyebrow raised. “Dare I mention that it’s before eleven?” Draco doesn’t bother responding. He swallows the glass down, shakes his head to ease the burn, and pours again.
“Don’t bother.”
Pansy nods and gestures at him. He grabs a new glass and pours whiskey for her (one finger, she’s not heavy on drinking). Pansy waits for him to speak.
“I’ve been sleeping with Potter.” Draco keeps his head down, not exactly wanting to see her expression. “For a while now. Tonight, I found...” he chokes “…this.” He extends the bottle to her. The liquid is a ghastly pink through the glass, reminiscent of nauseating medications and overly happy children. “I don’t know what the fuck it is, but I’m thinking some sort of hallucinogen. He’s been muttering in his sleep. I’m…worried.”
He jumps at the hand on his arm. “I’ll show it to Neville, Draco. We’ll figure this out.” Draco ducks his head once more at the pity in her eyes.
--
Colin is snapping away on his camera. He laughs and shoves the camera away. Colin smiles anyway and babbles about a trip he’s going on next month.
The half-moon spectacles sparkle in the sun. Purple and an off-pink clash on long robes.
His parents dance around.
Moody is muttering.
He laughs with joy.
--
One night he finds Harry catatonic.
Draco’s meeting with the other associates runs long. As tired as he is of their obscene incompetence, their contracts last through autumn, demanding his presence as they spout nonsensical fluff about the potential reactions of hellebore in solutions with varying acidities. He has to call a break halfway through; he leaves the room for a moment to have an espresso and breathe before he returns to holds his tongue as Mr Krister finishes his discussion of advertisement options for the hellebore potion. Potionibus is dark and silent as he exits the front doors and heads around the corner to Apparate home. A quick twist, and he arrives at Grimmauld Place.
Goosebumps.
Draco draws his wand, and tiptoes down the hallway, leaving off lighting the candles that line the entrance. He has a vague feeling of distress, nothing he can quite put a finger on. The bedroom lights are on, throwing a triangular sliver onto the hallway. He slowly presses the door open and immediately drops his wand to the floor. Harry is lying across the bed, utterly still. His hand is holding an almost empty flask, his head is hanging off the end of the bed, and drool is slipping down his chin.
Draco jumps on the bed, straddling Harry, and prises open his mouth, sending a cascade of familiar vitriolic pink fluid down onto the floor. He pulls the flask from his hands, still containing a few millilitres of the garish pink. He chokes, and slaps at Harry’s cheek.
“Wake up, Potter!”
Sanity descends, and Draco bends down. At the vague thump of a pulse, Draco’s own heart re-starts. He gets off the bed and carries Harry to the bath, setting him gingerly down in the tub. He returns quickly to the bedroom and grabs his wand. Once more in the bath, he raises his wand, and - thinking of Harry waking up, smiling, kissing him - states “Expecto Patronum.” A single tear slides down his face, and he tells the Rottweiler to find Pansy. “Harry’s…overdosed. Hurry. Be discreet.”
He then points his wand at Harry and murmurs “Expulso!”
Harry’s body retches. Once again dropping the wand, Draco slips inside the tub behind Harry and soothes his hair back, using cool water from the tap to wash his face between convulsions.
Draco slides his arms around Harry’s torso, holding him tightly as the retches continue.
--
Pansy’s voice breaks through his mind. Draco is still in the tub, still holding an unresponsive Harry.
Pansy is speaking to him, he thinks. Her lips are moving, anyway. He doesn’t respond until Neville pushes past her and attempts to lift Harry away. A broken sob echoes around the room, and Draco realises it is coming from himself.
Neville is now speaking, his hushed voice whispering of help and potions and “Let’s move him to the bed.” Draco wants to punch him, but uses the energy to rise from the rub, brushing past Neville’s attempts to help and carrying Harry in his arms to their bedroom.
He is mesmerized as Neville waves his wand over Harry, numbers and swirls appearing in an offendingly colourful array over his boyfriend’s body. Neville says “Get him out of here.” And he is being tugged forcefully from the room by Pansy, screams doing nothing to stop Neville who has begun to cast spells over Harry, seemingly much more powerful versions of Draco’s prior Expulso.
He sits with Pansy outside the bedroom. She soothes one hand over his hair and keeps the other in a firm grip on his thigh, holding him down. The grandfather clock at the end of the hall chimes one. They had fought over the stupid thing. Draco had insisted that the timepiece gave a sophisticated air to the hallway; Harry thought the wooden carvings of ‘poncy old Blacks’ were pretentious. His mouth lets out a sob; he’ll throw the damn thing out if only Harry wakes up.
--
Pansy is whispering at him. He doesn’t know how he fell asleep.
“…and he was so worried. Ketamine is used to treat patients with PTSD and depression, but Neville says there are warnings for hallucinations and risk of addiction. The potion - he thinks it’s one of Weasley’s daydreaming potions - has an overly large concentration. He sent him an owl…”
Draco turns to the side and throws up.
--
He has been sitting by the bed for three days now. Pansy and Neville bring him food every now and then. He thinks they’re staying downstairs.
He whispers to Harry.
“Please, wake up.”
“We need to survive. We need to live happily.”
“I’ll throw out the clock.”
--
Harry opens his eyes.
Links:
At my journal: http://nathalieweasley.livejournal.com/31306.html
At AO3: http://archiveofourown.org/works/1390885
At hd_hurtfest: http://hd-hurtfest.livejournal.com/10460.html
57 points earned