Drarry Oneshots

Aurors & Cursebreakers [Part Five]

Posted: December 23, 2020
AO3 Rating: Mature

This one will sort of resolve things after yesterday. (Sorry again!) Still not a traditional 'happy ending,' but...something.

Harry Potter stomps into the house and slams the door shut behind him. This stone cottage had been lively once, filled with light, love, and laughter. Now it's dark, cold, and empty—Exactly how he feels.

Harry makes his way to the sitting room and with a snap of his fingers, the fireplace roars to life. He leaned against the mantle, impatiently waving a hand and catching the bottle of alcohol that flies into it, opening it quickly and taking an enormous swallow.

He knows he's stalling, resisting the urge for as long as he can, but he won't last long. He never does, these days. He takes another swig from the bottle, then sighs and gives in to temptation, closing his eyes and twisting the ring on his right hand.

"You drink too much, you know."

"I know."

A hand comes to rest on his shoulder. "Rough day?"

"You could say that. I miss y—him. I miss him. You're not him."

"Of course I am. Look at me."

"No."

"Darling—"

"Don't call me that."

"What do you want from me?"

"Nothing. I shouldn't have called you here. Go away."

"You have to twist your ring again, sweetheart."

"I know."

Harry turns and looks into the apparition's face. It looks so much—so much—like him. He can almost believe it really is him... If he's drunk enough. He brings the bottle to his lips again, then tosses it into the fireplace in frustration. The fire flares uncomfortably hot for a moment. Harry doesn't even flinch.

Grey eyes watch him impassively. The specter tips its head to one side. "I thought you were going to send me away."

"I am—I will. In a minute. I just..."

"Do you want me to hold you?"

"Yes." The apparition steps forward and wraps its arms around him. Harry sags into the embrace. "Draco."

Soft, slender fingers stroke his cheek. "That's it, love. You're okay."

"I hate you."

"I know."

"You're not him."

"Yes, I am."

"You're not real."

The apparition doesn't respond.

Harry jerks out of its arms and twists the ring a second time so that he's alone again. He drops onto the sofa and summons a fresh bottle of Firewhisky.

"Well, that was extraordinarily pathetic," a deep, velvety voice chuckles from a shadowy corner of the room.

"Leave me alone."

"We have work to do, young Harry."

"I'm over five-hundred bloody years old. I'm not young."

"I'm older than life itself. You're an infant compared to me."

"I hate you."

"Your hatred is irrational."