So, on April 30, 2020, I found out about Daniel Radcliffe's movie. It was called Kill Your Darlings and let me tell you, the number of tears I shed throughout the movie was ridiculous. It was so intense and depressing.
It was based on a true story and a real event. And because of that, I am inspired to write this fanfic for you! Highly recommended to watch the movie if you haven't. 11/10. 😂
⛔ Warnings of every warning that you can think off that existed. Please read with caution. Thank you. ⛔
🚫 Character death, psychology instability, Stockholm Syndrome (not sure but just putting it here just in case), domestic abuse, slurs, violence, mental health issue, gore etc etc 🚫
Muggle!AU
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The silence in his apartment was loud and depressing to him. No one was in the four walls except for his lone self. It was admittedly starting to slowly torture him mentally. Leaning against the balcony, he stared at the colourful city lights as he took a drag from his cigarette, softly exhaling the carbon dioxide to the cold night air. Listening to the blaring sounds of sirens, the chattering noises made from the people that still walked on the streets of London even at this ungodly hour where they should actually be sleeping. But who was he to judge? After all, he was still wide awake too.
Harry James Potter, age 27, a child actor (though he was being cast out by the society, therefore, he was no longer an actor), born in London, England, son of James Potter and Lily Potter (nêe Evans) and a widower from his not-lasting marriage with his now ex-wife, Ginevra Molly Weasley, who was also a child actress like he was and the reason why he was shunned out. She filed a divorce after his first child was born, saying that Harry was a domestic abuser and that she couldn't handle the toxic marriage she had with him for 5 years. She didn't want an abuser to raise her child.
He had to pay for a large number of attorney fees that Ginny demanded. He paid the money she asked for, spent 3 years in the mental hospital instead of the prison because he was diagnosed with bipolar depression amongst others and had to spend 2 years in a rehabilitation centre.
He gritted his teeth at the reminder. He was never healed. Oblivious he may be, but he was not dumb. He had acted like he was healing when he was actually not, slowly letting himself to succumb into the insanity that whispers in his mind every day. When he had been let out as a free man, he resorted to alcohol and sex. He knew it was unhealthy. He knew that if he acted out of ordinary, he will be thrown back to the hospital and probably would never get out. So, he did his work quietly. He was paid for the bad things he did for them, so it did not matter much.
Then came his sick obsession with this man while he was in the hospital under his care. He was– hands-down– the most beautiful man Harry had ever met in his entire life. The male had white-blond hair that looked fluffy on top of his head and his eyes were as grey as the rainy day. He had pointed nose, high cheekbones, rosy cheeks and pink kissable lips. His pale skin was smooth and unblemished. He was tall but Harry was taller and he was very slender while Harry had a bulky muscled figure. He looked so feminine with slightly curvy waist, thick thighs– Oh dear, his thighs– and plump arse. He had every information about the male stored in his head, stalking him around without anyone knowing. Beautiful vixen, he was.
His name was Draco Lucius Malfoy, age 26, a kind-hearted nurse that always sported a smile while tending Harry, born in Paris, France but was an Englishman through and through, the son of Lucius Malfoy and Narcissa Malfoy (nêe Black). He had a few relationships before but currently, he was single and he will make sure Draco stayed single if he was not Harry's. He was a soft-spoken person, never raising his voice with him even when he was being difficult and giving him a hard time. Draco was always patient with him.
