TW: SUICIDE, DEATH, SLIGHT ANGST
After Draco had died, it was hard for Harry. He couldn't process what had happened and he couldn't bare to think of what had happened. It was he, who had seen it. It was he, who had witnessed it and had loved Draco. It was he, whom it hurt the most for.
Most days he sat and stared blankly at the wall, staring at nothing, tears trickling down his cheeks.
Nobody came to see him; nobody cared; nobody knew how hard it was for him...
Just then, an owl swooped in through the window and greeted him with a feeble hoot and a letter f at Klingon his lap.
Whipping away the tears from his cheek and being glad there was something that kept him from thinking about Draco, he tore the letter open as the owl rested next to him on the back of the couch.
It was lettered from the Ministry.
What this could mean, Harry did not know, so he flipped over the letter.
It said
'Dear Mr. Potter,
We are very sorry to hear about the loss of your husband, Draco Malfoy. As he was in contact with the ministry, we must know what happened. To decide how to do this, we chose for you to come to the Ministry on Friday, the 24 of August to tell us about what happened . Again, we are very sorry to hear this bad new.
Sincerely signed by The Ministry of Magic'
'Oh no,' Harry thought. 'This is the only thing that could get worse. Having to recap everything with the Ministry.
After five days had passed, it was time for Harry to go to the Ministry.
It was a painful travel; all Harry could think about was having to recap everything he had witnessed with the Ministry.
Once he had arrived, he walked over to the front desk.
He went were he was ordered to go, about to await a couple of Aurors, other Ministry workers, and the Minister of Magic himself .
"Have a seat," they said briskly once he had entered.
Harry took a deep, shuddering breath, and sat down in front of the pack of Ministry workers staring at him with eyes like a Hawk.
"Tell us your story," said a woman at the front in what sounded like an attempt to a kind voice.
Harry took another breath, and trying not to pay attention to what he was saying, he reframed what he had seen.
He told them all about coming home and knocking on the door, opening it once nobody had responded, walking inside and looking around, calling Draco's name.
Harry had walked into their room and with a gasp of pain and despair, had seen, I front of him, Draco hanging from the ceiling, his eyes closed and his head down, a rope tied tightly to his neck.
The Ministry workers listened carefully, mmhmmed after he said things, and took notes on a clipboard.
Harry was immensely relieved when it had finally finished.
He was so longing to go back home; to get away from these Ministry workers; he didn't care what they thanked, they didn't know how he felt.
But he was; as he had said in his letter; and believed, that always, no matter what happened, Draco would stay with him and he would stay with Draco.
This was the thought that made him motivated enough to stand up, get out of the Ministry, and go back to his house without a single tear trickling down his cheek.
