The war had changed him. I mean, it changed everyone, more than others. Many of us found our ways of coping, which were reasonable, some therapy, others turned to medication in order to help them sleep through the night, but Harry turned to alcohol. Drinking himself into such a state that he doesn't remember what happened the day before. It was those nights that he didn't wake up screaming from nightmares. You couldn't decide what you preferred, coming home from work and seeing him on the couch halfway through a bottle of whiskey, or him waking up in the middle of the night sobbing. Neither of them were things you enjoyed, but you just helped him. Giving him water in order to make the hangover a little better helped him to the toilet to puke, wiping his mouth after. That was your life now. You didn't want to see your husband go down this path but what else were you supposed to do. How else were you meant to help him get through this and concur his demons?
Walking into the flat, the familiar sight greeted you, Harry once again on the couch drinking his whiskey. It must have been his third bottle for the week and it was only Friday. He would double that by the time Monday came round. Sighing, you place your bag down on the kitchen table and stand and look at him. Harry doesn't look at you, he just continues to bring the bottle to his lips and take gulps of it, his eyes never leaving the tv screen.
"If this is what it's always going to be like '' you ask him, that gets his attention, he looks up at you confused that you even talked, it wasn't something that you usually did. Usually you would just walk to your office and do some more work or go to bed. You never questioned him.
"What", you could just about understand what he said. His speech was so slurred.
"It is always going to be like this. Me coming home to you absolutely hammered, almost a bottle of liquor in you and that's just what i know of".
Sitting up, Harry looks at you more closely.
"Why are you bringing this up now, it's not like you have had a problem with it before", you chuckle.
"I haven't brought it up because I know that this is the only thing that helps you, but Harry, how long is the whiskey going to help before it isn't enough anymore, what's it going to be next then. This drinking is going to kill you", you head down the hall towards the bedroom. Tonight the sight of him drinking had set you off. You had had enough. You couldn't continue to live like this. Harry needed to realize that his actions have consequences, and if leaving was a way of getting him to realize that he needs to pull his shit together then so be it.
Grabbing the suit case off of the top of the wardrobe you place it on the bed and start to pile clothes into.
"What are you doing?" Harry slurred from the doorway. You ignore him and continue packing.
"Baby what are you doing?" he asks again. Placing a pile of tops into the case you look up at him.
"I'm leaving, that's what I'm doing Harry". Grabbing a few final things you close the case. You knew that you were missing a lot of things and most of the stuff you had wasn't going to last you long but you didnt care you would sort it out.
"Honey come on let's talk about this' ' Harry pleads as you walk towards the doorway. Turning to him you shake your head.
"No we are not going to talk about this Harry. I am sick and tired of having to come home with you already drunk, having to make sure that you lie on your side when you sleep because I'm scared that you are going to choke on your sickness in your sleep. I want to actually be able to have a conversation with my husband, fuck i cant even remenber the last time you actually we talking to be sober. I can't keep doing this. You need help, not just with the drink but with this PTSD you have. I want my husband back. I want to help you more than anything in the world. But I can't keep dragging myself down further and further because of you. There is only so much a person can take and I'm beyond that point" you sob. It was uncontrollable. Harry shakes his head, getting down on his knees wrapping his arms around your waist.
"Please don't leave. I'm sorry, I'll get better, please don't leave me" he sobs. You place your head in your hands and shake your head. Pulling his hands off of you, you grab your suitcase and leave.
You spent the next few months at Bill and Fleaurs helping out with their new baby. They welcomed you with open arms, understanding that there had been a strain on your relationship ever since the war. You called Ron and Hermione straight after you left to tell them what happened and to make sure Harry was okay. You still loved him, still wanted to help him but you needed a break. You need to be able to live life again. Doing something other than helping your drunk husband.
In the few months since you had left Ron and Hermione had called you frequently in order to give you an update on what had been happening with Harry. You were pleased to find out that he had entered a rehab facility. Once finding that out you wanted to call him but a part of the rehab was that there would be any outside contact for at least a month which stung. But you stayed strong and continued getting through everyday. After the month was up you tried calling but Harry didn't want to talk to you. You knew why, you knew he was angry and he had every right to be but it was still a kick in the gut. So you continued to go on.
One day you were Bill and Fleurs alone, they had gone to diagon alley to get a few things. You were sitting on the porch rocking in the rocking chair and closing your eyes listening to the ocean as it sang. It was relaxing.
"Y/N" a voice says. Opening your eyes you see your husband.
"Harry" you say standing up and looking at him. He looked better, he was no longer as pale and skinny, he glowed and had put on a little bit of weight that actually made him look healthy. Standing there looking at him made you realize how much you missed him. How much you couldn't be without him.
"You back".
"I know, I was in rehab for a while".
"I know Ron told me", nodding his head Harry continued.
"Look i'm sorry for everything that i did. I know i was an asshole and that i shouldn't have done what i had done but after the first night that i got drunk i couldn't stop. I could stop loving the feeling of forgetting. I wanted to forget everyone that died and everything that we lost. But in that process i forgot about you, how this was effecting you and for that i'm sorry love". You knew he was sorry. He was your Harry.
Grabbing him you pull him into you hugging him for dear life. This was the first time in a long time that you felt whole.
"I love you" he whispers. Pulling back and looking at him you smile.
"I love you too", bring his face to yours you kiss him and for the first time you don't taste alcohol you just taste him.
