Mid-November. She never expected it to hit her, even though it happened every year. It hit her like a goddamn freight train as she was brushing her teeth. Tears streamed down her cheeks as she felt her nose snotting up, sobs wracking her chest. Loneliness. Fatigue. Exhaustion. Apathy. Depression. It consumed her. She managed to spit out the toothpaste in her mouth and rinse her toothbrush and put away all of her nightly products. She sat down on the bathroom floor and sobbed quietly, waiting for her tears to subside.
Harry sat in bed. He read his copy of the book he and his girlfriend were reading together that month while she finished up her nightly routine. It was taking longer than usual, but he wasn't worried. Sometimes she plucked her eyebrows, or maybe she was applying a face mask, although usually she'd share her face masks with him.
Finally she emerged. Her eyes were hollow and emotionless. Harry tried not to let his face show how much that worried him as she climbed into bed next to him, laying on her side, turned away from him. He set his book down and looked at her. He reached over and gently brushed her hair off her shoulder, letting his fingers run across her head, but not through her hair. She didn't like that.
He was getting better at knowing what to do when her spells of depression hit her. They were becoming less frequent with her new treatment, but when they did come, they were stronger and more sudden. Neither of them could predict them.
She hated to have to talk, or even listen to someone when she got like this. Sometimes she asked Harry to read to her, but she hadn't yet. She just wanted to know she wasn't alone, because that's what her brain kept trying to tell her, that she was alone, worthless, didn't matter to anyone.
Harry slid in behind her and she sighed, feeling him snake his arms around her waist to pull her against his chest. His fingers wandered under her t-shirt and he mouthed gently at the back of her neck. He was getting so good at it, storing data about what worked and what didn't when the depression was a certain way. This was the distractible kind of depression. One he could make go away with his hands, coax her back to life, at least for a bit. It wasn't a permanent solution, of course, sex never was, but it would help her forget, and help her sleep.
She turned over in his arms, a faint smile appearing under her dead eyes, before she leaned over to kiss him, sinking her fingers into his curls. He slotted his thigh between hers, giving her his body to use how she needed, because it wasn't about him, it was about her, making her feel alive again. She'd told him sometimes that her mind would try to convince her she wasn't really existing.
She let out a small gasp at the friction, and Harry smiled against her lips, reaching down to grip her hip, urging her to move against him as he rolled onto his back, pulling her with him. He pulled her knees on either side of his hips, and sighed when he felt her grind down on him in response. They'd done this so many times, neither of them needed to talk at this point. He knew what she needed, she knew he wanted to help her, and she loved him for it. She loved him, she wanted to feel close to him. It was cathartic, like a massive fuck you to the depression telling her she was alone. She wasn't alone. She had Harry. Harry loved her.
Harry panted as she sat up, watching her try a different angle, smiling at her rosy cheeks, a faint glimmer in her eyes again. He reached for her hips, finding her love handles, twisting her hips in slow figure eights just to watch her shoulders slump. She took in a huge shuddering breath and lifted her hips slightly, reaching down between her legs to tug on the band of Harry's boxers. He lifted his hips to help her, kicking them off with his feet when he could. He bit his lip to hold in a moan as he watched her push her panties down her legs before sinking down onto him.
"Fuck." A faint whisper fell from her lips as she closed her eyes. Her hands held onto his shoulders as she leaned forward and breathed, adjusting her hips slightly. Harry let himself smile at her, and reached up to brush sweaty strands back from her face so he could see her better. She didn't meet his eyes, only looked away sadly, and Harry reached for her hands, linking his fingers with hers as he pulled them up to rest on the pillow above his head. She had no choice but to lean down and press her chest against his.
He kissed the cheek she had turned towards him, continuing to kiss her face as he slipped his hands out of hers and wrapped his arms around her waist. He pushed her away briefly to tug her t-shirt over her head, skin-on-skin contact was important, then pulled her flush against him, wrapping one arm all the way around her waist and tangling his other fingers in her hair to cup the back of her head as she tucked her face into his neck.
She felt it hit her again as Harry cradled her against him, and she felt heavy as tears fell from her eyes onto his shoulder. She couldn't bring herself to move anymore, feeling exhausted as her mind fought its battle, but Harry was there. He held her up, giving her a barrier between herself and the creeping cold apathy of depression. He surrounded her like a shield, moving so gently inside her as if to only remind her that he was there.
Harry tugged on her hair, pulling her out of her hiding spot behind his shoulder to kiss her lips. He could feel the sweat dripping down her hairline, mingling with his. Her tears continued to fall down his cheeks and roll off onto his neck, but he didn't care. He loved her so much, he was going to put everything he had into making sure she knew that he was here for her, always. He wasn't ever going to let her feel alone.
Her hand shook as she reached for Harry's fingers tangled in her hair, extracted them, and guided him down in between their bodies. He obliged enthusiastically, slipping his fingers down between her legs to give her that extra friction she needed to get the release she craved. She felt full, his warmth chasing away the heavy cold that permeated her bones, and she gained a new energy to move her mouth and kiss him back, even parting his lips with her tongue just so she could feel the moan vibrate through him that he couldn't hold back.
He held her even tighter as she seemed to come back to life some, her grip in his hair tightened. She pressed her thighs firmly around his hips as she contracted around him, breaking her lips from his with a slight gasp.
"Harry," she whispered as her body contracted, waves of pleasure washing through her.
"I love you," he whispered back, "I love you so much."
"I love you too," she managed, gasping for air. "Thank you, thank you, I love you." As she relaxed, Harry pulled his hand away, not wanting to overstimulate her, and he wrapped both his arms around her, holding her close to him, finally letting himself focus on his own pleasure.
She tucked her chin into Harry's neck, kissing him, nibbling, sucking, and kissing again. The mark she left behind a mark of her gratitude for distracting her. Now she just wanted to make him happy. The way he made her happy. So she rolled her hips, meeting his, contracting around him, until she felt him tense beneath her.
"Please," she asked him, "let me feel you."
Together they were connected, and that's what they both needed. To be together, to support each other, to distract each other, from the cold apathy that sometimes tried to invade their minds. Together they could win.
And even as they separated, and she left their bed to take a shower, she found it easier to block out the depression still knocking on her skull, because she had Harry, and he was waiting for her to come back to bed and he was going to hold her and tell her that he loved her and he was definitely never going to leave her to fight her battles alone.
