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Hello my lovely readers!! Thanks for clicking on my fic, I hope you enjoy reading it as much as I enjoyed writing it. However, before you start reading, I just want to make a quick disclaimer about the fic: PLEASE DO NOT SKIP THIS!I wrote this fic during quite a dark period in my life, as I have been struggling a lot with my mental health recently and have been using writing fanfic to cope with it. Hence why this fic needs a few trigger warnings, which include:Graphic Self HarmEating DisordersAlcoholismSuicidal IdeologySuicide AttemptsDepressionCharacter Death (Not Harry!)Referenced Child Abuse This is all I can think of for now (if I discover anymore, I will update this list as I post.) I will always put trigger warnings at the beginning of each individual chapter if a chapter is particularly bad, but please, dear reader, please take care of yourself while reading. If it gets too much for you, stop! Don’t pressure yourself into reading the rest of it if it is upsetting you and triggering you. LOOK AFTER YOURSELF!! Anyway, with those TW out of the way, here’s a bit about the fic! This is a series of letters written from Harry’s perspective after the war and they span over a year. (Hence why they are so dark, because Mr. Potter defo has PTSD and SO MUCH TRAUMA from the war. Man is fucked up.) You might think some of this is out of character for Harry, but this fic is going off of MY interpretation of how Harry might behave in the year after the war. I don’t think I can say much more otherwise that will give away spoilers so… I shall shut up on describing the fic and I hope you enjoy it! I… will admit something to you. There is no beta for this fic. I didn’t get a beta because I want these letters to be raw and real, like real letters, and having a beta would just be weird, coz letters aren’t edited. My schedule for posting is non-existent, however I’m going to try (emphasis on try, it might differ every week LMAO) and post 2 letters every Tuesday, Thursday and Sunday at probably 6pm GMT/BST. Obviously, the time will vary each upload because I am a busy man and I have a job which I need to work this posting schedule around. (It’s hard, my shifts are at SUCH inconvenient posting times omg.)Also, if the letters are short ones, you may get more than 2 letters, but whenever I post, you will always get at least 2.  Potentially, as well, there could be a sequel to this fic. If I decide to write it. (I’ve already been brainstorming ideas for it!) It’s left open enough for there to be a sequel if I am able to get it written SO if you enjoy this fic, let me know and I will get started on that sequel!!I do have another post war HP fic that I am working on as well (yes, it is Drarry ofc) and that one is an 8th year one! It is currently on hiatus due to this fic but I’m gonna try and get it all finished before I head off to uni in September. :D OH ALSO - big big thanks to Mel (@melanie_bxx on AO3 / @daddiesdrarry on Instagram) for putting up with my rambles about this fic and for helping me write the summary! (We love Mel, guys, okay? WE LOVE YOU MEL TA FOR ALL BABE!!) (Also you will be getting 2 chapters now even though it’s a Monday to make up for the fact that I can’t post tomorrow!)ANYWAY! Enough from me, it’s time for you guys to dive into the mind of Harry through his letters post war. Enjoy! (But also look after yourself!!!)-Noodle (lupinseclipse)

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31st July 1998Malfoy,Apparently, I am not okay. (Shock horror.) I am a severely fucked up individual, with far too much trauma behind me to even be normal for an 18 year old man. Yes. 18. I turned 18 today. I’m surprised I made it, to be honest. I thought I’d die before I saw my 18th birthday. Molly Weasley wanted to throw me a huge party to celebrate. She said I need more happiness in my life. Or at least, her letter did. Apparently, I spend too much time alone and need a big party to ‘break me out of my depression.’ Excuse you, Molly. I am not depressed. (Well, my mind healer thinks I am, but that’s besides the point.)Anyway, the party. I wrote back and told her no thanks, cuz I just can’t deal with parties right now. Fuck, I can barely deal with getting out of bed in the mornings. How am I supposed to go to a party when getting up is a fight I’m slowly beginning to lose again? She was upset, but didn’t floo over to tell me to get my act together and come to the party. (She can’t anyway. I’ve blocked nearly all floo access in and out of my house.)Merlin, I remember the letters I got from Ron and Hermione when I told them I’d blocked certain floo access at the end of June. (Not all. I can still floo in and out of my house, but other people can’t floo in.) They were both so cross! Well, Hermione was more worried than cross. She said something about them needing to be able to reach me in case something bad happens, but if something bad happens, then it happens and they don’t need to fix it. Besides, I want some privacy. I’ve been surrounded by people since I started Hogwarts, so I think I’ve earned my right to block my floo so I can have that privacy. And it’s not as if I’ve cut contact. They can still write to me, and (when I can be bothered) we get coffee. (I say that. We haven’t had coffee together in, like, a month.)I probably should have coffee with them again soon. My mind healer said I should. She said I need to not isolate myself and I need to still have people around me. But that’s the thing. I don’t want people around me. I’m perfectly happy in my house with my elf and my cat. I say my cat, he’s not really my cat. I found him in the graveyard when I was visiting my parents’ grave. He sat with me, then followed me home. He’s not left me alone since. (I don’t mind. He’s grown on me. He’s all white. Kind of reminds me of you, weirdly.)Right, anyway, you probably want to know why I’m telling you all of this. Well. My mind healer, (her name is Helen, by the way. She’s wonderful) said that I need a healthier coping mechanism, so she suggested that I start journaling to help me process stuff. She also said it helped to write to someone. Like letters. She said letters were the most helpful, and I said I would do letters and not just mindless journaling. So, I’m going to write to you in my letters. You won’t ever get any of these letters. This is just to help me process shit. I’ve got to write whenever I feel like doing bad things, or whenever I feel down or depressed or whatever. Just whenever stuff goes wrong, I have to write. So expect a lot of these letters.Why did I say that? You’re never going to receive any of these. Don’t expect any of them. When shit is bad, I’m going to write a letter to you, put it in an envelope, seal it, and then put it in a box. And that box will live under my bed. This is a healthier coping mechanism than what I was doing before. (What I am still kind of doing, which Helen is not happy about.)Anyway, I chose you to write to because you don’t know shit about me anymore. You’re a stranger, but also not a stranger. I know who you are. We practically grew up together and I testified at your fucking trial. But after that, after the war, you have no idea who I am. You don’t know what happened to me, you don’t know anything. So it’s kind of comforting to write to you, cuz you know a little bit about what happened at school, but after that, after the war, you don’t know shit.Also, it would be too personal to write to Hermione or Ron or Ginny or any of them. And if they found the letters, they would open and read them. Which is the last fucking thing I need. They won’t open letters addressed to you, though. (Hopefully they won’t find the letters. These are mine and mine alone. They’re not even yours.)I suppose I should probably say why I started writing today then. Helen suggested this in our last session (yesterday) so that’s one reason, but also today is my birthday. (As I said earlier and as you should know and if you don’t then where have you been living for the past 18 years come on, Malfoy.) I spent it alone. (This isn’t the problem. I always spend my birthday alone.) But I got bombarded by letters and had an overbearing Molly Weasley insisting on sending me almost a full three course meal plus a birthday cake. That was a lot. I’m staring at the cake right now. It appears to be glaring at me.Also, the big thing, Malfoy: there was an envelope waiting for me on the table when I got downstairs in the morning. My name on the front was written in my mum’s handwriting. Which is fucking weird, cuz she died when I was 1. (In case you didn’t know that either.) The only reason I know her handwriting is cuz of shit Hagrid has given me. I read that stuff over and over and over.Anyway that’s besides the point. This letter had apparently been charmed to appear in my house on my 18th birthday. (Not necessarily Godric’s Hollow, just whatever house I am living in at the time. Fucking chance that I just so happen to be living in Godric’s Hollow in their old house. In my old house.)Malfoy, everyone had written in the letter. There was a page from each one of them. A double sided page. One from my mum and one from my dad, then one each from Remus, Sirius and Peter. Frank and Alice Longbottom have written one each as well. Maybe they did something like this for Neville too. Also, there’s ones from people who I’ve never heard of, like Mary Macdonald, Dorcas Meadowes and Marlene Mckinnon. But Merlin’s hairy balls, each one of them had written things that had me on the floor bawling my eyes out. They all loved me so much. These letters, they wrote them when I was born, saying all these things about what they wanted to do with me as I grew up, how I would be surrounded by a ridiculously large family who loved me and who would give me anything I needed in the whole world.It’s ironic that Peter’s letter was so loving too. Peter Pettigrew. You knew him, didn’t you? He said all these things about how much he was looking forward to being my Uncle Pete, but he was the one who took everything away from me. Thanks to him and Voldemort, I lost any chances of having anything that those letters said and that fucking hurts. It’s so fucked up. I lost fucking everything. I lost my chance to have a large and loving family, cuz Aunt Petunia, Uncle Vernon and Dudley certainly didn’t love me. That hurt. Opening that envelope, seeing those letters, fucking hell, Malfoy. That was awful. I don’t have any of those people, I never did, technically. Remus and Sirius weren’t my family when I knew them. Not really. They could’ve been, but it was all too difficult then they had to go and die. So no. I never had them. I never had any of them.Maybe though, maybe those others are still alive. Marlene, Dorcas and Mary. I could write to them. See if they still want to be part of my family (which is currently, just me, Kreacher and my cat. Who I think I will name Casper.) For obvious reasons though, I won’t write to Frank and Alice. I might write to Neville though. See if he got something similar.Anyway, sorry this letter was so long. I didn’t exactly mean for it to be so long. Not that it matters really. It’s not as if you’re gonna be reading these. Helen will probably be proud of me for writing such a long letter to start off with. Y’know, getting shit off my chest in a healthy way. Not in the other way.Right. I’m going to go now. I want to drown myself in firewhiskey and Molly’s cake. I’ll write to Mary and Marlene and Dorcas tomorrow. Maybe you’ll get another letter tomorrow. Who knows when you’ll get another letter. Probably soon. Things aren’t getting better. It’s gotten worse. A lot worse. But that’s shit for another letter.Till the next one, I guess.From H.P

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3rd August 1998Malfoy,      I broke up with Ginny today. Well, she broke up with me. I bumped into her on my way back from a session with Helen. Luna was with her too. She looked cross. Well, worried as well. Cross and worried. To be honest, I was really surprised to see them, because they were in a park by Helen’s house, and Helen’s house is only about an hour's walk from my house in Godric’s Hollow. (I always walk to Helen’s now. She said I’m not allowed to apparate there because walking is good for me, according to Helen.)       It’s weird for them to be in that park, right? Godric’s Hollow is almost three hundred miles from the Burrow. What on earth would they be doing here? Sure, I mean it’s a really pretty place, but there are miles and miles of fields around the Burrow. Why would they need to come all the way out here just for a walk?      Anyway, so I was sitting on a bench processing what I’d just talked about with Helen, when Luna appeared in front of me, Ginny next to her. They had their arms linked. Luna was all ready to sit and chat for ages but I think she sensed something was wrong and didn’t. Just, y’know, asked me how I was doing and asking why I hadn’t written in two months. I feel kind of bad about that, but I also don’t. Helen said I should put myself first nowadays, and that sometimes means not writing to people, I guess. Luna said I should write to her soon. She misses me. But Ginny was different. She folded her arms and did that whole squinting at me then sighing and then she straight up asked me if I still loved her. I asked her why she asked, and she said that I’m her boyfriend so I’m supposed to love her, but cuz I’ve not spoken to her in at least a month and a half, she’s not sure if I love her. I said something like ‘I do love you, I’m just struggling,’ or something like that, and she got very angry at me in the middle of the park. I’m sort of ashamed to say that I just looked down and let her shout at me. I tried to tune out all those harsh things she said, but it’s difficult to do that when she was shouting them at me in my ear, practically.      She said she wanted to love me and she wanted us to work, but apparently I was making it very hard for her to love me and she was struggling to still be in love with me when I wouldn’t speak to her or write to her. She said I was difficult to love. Which is true, I guess.      Luna eventually stopped her when she saw I was crying. (I can’t believe I cried in  the middle of a fucking park. You must think I’m such a wimp.) Well, I say crying, it was more just tears falling down my face, which is even more pathetic than full on sobs. Anyway, Ginny then said did I even think of her as my girlfriend anymore, and I just said that I thought we had broken up ages ago. That upset her even more and she said that we are broken up now if that’s what I think. So it was more her breaking up with me than the other way around. She then walked off, saying she needed space and even though I don’t write anyway, she said I should not write until Yule at least. She needs space. Luna gave me a hug then followed Ginny. I apparated home. (Sometimes I ignore Helen’s rules. I needed to apparate home. I needed to get home, and I still had a 45 minute walk ahead of me. I wasn’t doing that.)      Casper was on my bed when I got home and he sat on my lap when I sat down and has refused to leave me alone since. He knows something is wrong. He always knows. Just like Kreacher. They both always know when something is wrong. I like that they always know. It’s not like with Ron and Hermione. Those two always know when something is wrong, but then they get all fussy and worried. Casper just sits on me and lies on me and licks my hand, and Kreacher cooks me food and talks to me about meaningless things to distract me. They know something is wrong, but they don’t overwhelm me. They help me. Ron and Hermione weren’t exactly helpful. (Don’t you dare tell them I said that.) I’m happy I’m with Casper and Kreacher and not Ron and Hermione. This is better this way.       I just feel really guilty about Ginny. She accused me of leading her on and then ignoring her and treating her like shit. Which I guess I did. I barely spoke to her after the war; I didn’t write and I didn’t make an effort. In my defence, I thought we had broken up. But she didn’t think so. So that makes me the bad person. That’s fair enough. I am a bad person. I know I am. So many people have told me that. I’ve just sort of accepted it at this point, though Helen and Kreacher seem hell bent on making me think that I am not a bad person. But that’s whatever.       I sort of want to reach out to Ginny and properly apologise, but she doesn’t want that. She needs space. And I respect that. I need space. I need a lot of space. I know you’re probably complaining thinking that well, I’ve had space. I’ve had all the space I need since the end of all those funerals and trials. Three months, nearly. But I need more. Three months is not enough.       Oh, you remember I said I’d write to those three women in my 18th birthday letter? Mary, Marlene and Dorcas. Well I’ve not had anything back yet. I sent the letters by owl, so either they live miles and miles away, or they’re all dead. I really hope they’re not dead. I’d like to meet them. That would be nice.       Anyway, I’m going now. Kreacher has just told me that we’re having cheese toasties for dinner. I like cheese toasties. Especially the ones Kreacher makes. They’re so good.       Till the next one.      From H.P

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8th August 1998Malfoy,      I got a letter back. Well. ‘A letter.’ I got two letters back. My original letters. The ones I had written with nothing attached to them. They were the ones to Marlene McKinnon and Dorcas Meadowes, so I’m going to guess that means they’re dead. That’s what it means when you get your original letter back, doesn’t it? The owl can’t deliver it because the receiver is dead, so the owl brings your letter back to you. I think that’s how it works.       Maybe I can ask Professor McGonagall if she knows what happened to them. She’ll have taught them, right? I can write to her and ask if she knows anything about them. Possibly Mary too. I’ll wait and see if I get a letter back from Mary before I ask McGonagall. If Mary is alive, then she can tell me what happened to Marlene and Dorcas.       It hurts a lot to know that they’re dead. I feel like it probably shouldn’t hurt, because I never knew them. Well, I guess I did when my mum and dad were still alive, but I remember fuck all from that year. Anyway, I never knew Marlene and Dorcas, so why should it hurt so much that they’re dead? I don’t know them. They never existed in my memories or my life, yet I cried when the owls returned with my letters. Maybe because they would’ve been a link to my parents so I could learn something else about them. Maybe because I could’ve had them as my nice aunts. We could’ve been friends now, if they’d been alive. But they’re not alive. So I can’t have any of that.       I’ll just wait for Mary’s letter. My last hope. I really hope I get a letter from Mary. I want her to be alive so I can meet her and get to know her and learn more about my parents and their friends. I want to know all of this. Hopefully Mary has the answers.      Sorry this letter is so short. (Why am I apologising, it’s literally just going into a box under my bed.) I just needed to write this down. Record it, I guess. Helen will be happy. She said that the letters can be whatever length I need them to be, whether that’s 100 pages, or three words. Coping. Processing. That’s what this is.       Till the next one.      From H.P

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9th August 1998Malfoy,      Mary’s letter came today. Mary Macdonald. You know, the third woman I wrote to about my 18th birthday letter and my parents. Merlin, I was so excited when I saw that owl, cuz I saw different parchment. A different letter. That meant Mary had written back to me. That means that she is alive. Alive! Someone that knew my parents closely is alive. How fucking incredible is that?      Except it’s not incredible at all. She had sent me a very short letter and fucking Godric, Malfoy, her letter made me cry. Hang on, let me find it so I can tell you what she wrote.       ‘Dear Mr. Potter. I am deeply sorry to inform you that I do not know who, or what you are talking about. I only have the vaguest recollection of those names, but James, Lily and Harry are very common names, so unfortunately they do not hold any special meaning to me. Once again, I am sorry I cannot be of assistance, but I wish you luck in finding what you are searching for. Maybe someone else will be able to help you where I cannot. All the best, Mary Macdonald.’      She doesn’t know. Malfoy, she doesn’t know shit. She doesn’t understand, she doesn’t know, fucking hell she doesn’t recognise my name! The name Potter is fucking recognisable in the wizarding world, where is she living that she doesn’t recognise my name? What world is she living in? Has she been obliviated? And if she has, who the fuck has done that to her? She was my last fucking hope in getting someone who was close to my mum and dad. Someone who was friends with them. And now she’s gone. She remembers fuck all, what use is that? Merlin, my last hope gone. I have nothing now. Nothing and no-one who knew my parents or their friends well enough to tell me anything.       I know you’ll probably say well why not ask Molly Weasley or Professor McGonagall, but Molly went to Hogwarts way before my parents, and McGonagall is just a professor. She didn’t really know them. She just knew what they showed at school. (I’m going to write to  McGonagall anyway. I want to know what happened to them.) These people, Mary, Marlene, Dorcas, Alice and Frank, all of these people knew my mum and dad. But they’re all gone. They were taken from me and now I have nothing.       I could’ve had so much. I could’ve had a loving family with my mum and dad, and then had all these people, their friends, be my aunts and uncles and be part of our family. I could’ve been so loved. And even now, even though I had all that taken away from me, I could’ve had Mary or Marlene or Dorcas. But I can’t. Because Marlene and Dorcas are dead, and Mary doesn’t remember anything. (How does she not remember anything? Who the fuck has obliviated her and why would they do that?)      I thought I had lost everything before all of this. Yet now I realise I truly have lost everything. You might call me selfish, cuz the Weasleys and Hermione and Luna are right there, but they’re not my family. Fuck, I haven’t spoken to most of them in two, three months. I don’t really have them. Not anymore. But see, I had accepted that. After the war, after the funerals and the trials, when I moved up here and took time for myself, I accepted that I was probably going to lose them. Which was okay, because I think everyone knew that I needed to start afresh. But then, on my birthday, with those letters. Merlin, I had hope again. For the first time in so many years, I had hope. Hope that I could finally have some family who knew my mum and dad. Hope that I could find friends in these people. But that’s been snatched away from me, because two of them are dead, and one of them can’t remember shit.      What am I going to do now then, Malfoy? What am I supposed to do now? I half wish that I could send you these letters, because then I might get an answer to that question. Because I really don’t know what to do now. I’m so lost.       Till the next one.      From H.P

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12th August 1998Malfoy,      I got a letter from Andromeda today. Andromeda Tonks. I suppose you know her, don’t you? She was a Black, and your mum was a Black. Weren’t they sisters? Them two and Bellatrix. I think Sirius said they were, and then he and his brother were their cousins. I’m not too sure about the Black family to be honest. I had a tapestry in Grimmauld Place of the Black family with all their faces on, but I kept losing track. It was so confusing and there was a strange amount of incest. Fucking weirdos.      Anyway, Andromeda’s letter. It was very long, but the gist of it was that she wants me to come and visit her and Teddy or she said they can come to me. She wants to get to know me properly as I’m Teddy’s godfather. (Pretty shit godfather if I’m honest. I haven’t even seen Teddy yet.) She doesn’t want me to become estranged from them just because Remus and Tonks and everyone are dead. She wants us to be our own little family. I think she mentioned something about how it was difficult to try and reconcile with your mum, because of everything that happened, so she said she was starting with me to build her family back up again. I think she wants to reconcile with you and your mum, but is finding it too difficult right now cuz of everything that happened to her.       Do you think I should agree to it? Meeting her, I mean. Going to see her and Teddy and getting to know them. Half of me really, really wants to, but the other half of me is too guilty to. Remus, Tonks and Andromeda’s husband Edward were all murdered by Death Eaters. How can I visit them in good consciousness knowing that  her entire family was murdered because of me? Like, let’s be real, this whole war and everything happened because of me and Voldemort and a stupid, stupid prophecy. Everyone that died, died because of me. How can I go to them with this? Fuck, how can she even write to me after that? I think she’s either mad or incredibly stupid to write to me knowing that her family died because of me.      Or maybe she genuinely does just want to meet me and let me become Teddy’s godfather properly. Maybe she’s being genuine. (I still think she’s got to be a little crazy to write to me, even if she is being genuine.) She said she and Teddy get lonely. They don’t have many friends around their village cuz they had to move after Edward died to stay safe in the war, so they don’t know anyone. Apart from their two neighbours, she said they’re almost entirely alone.       If I’m being entirely truthful, I really want to get to know her and Teddy. I want to be the best godfather ever to Teddy. I want to give him everything Sirius couldn’t give me. I want him to know he is loved and that he will never be alone. It’s just hard though. How can I be that to him when some days I can barely get out of bed? (I spent a week straight in bed once. It upset Kreacher a lot.) How can I love Teddy when I can’t even love myself? I’m going to be an absolute mess with him, but I don’t want him to see me like that. I want him to know me as his godfather Harry, not as some mess who can barely hold himself together. (Not that I even am holding myself together. I wouldn’t be able to do it if I didn’t have Helen, Kreacher and Casper.)       I have an appointment with Helen tomorrow, I’ll talk to her about it. She’ll know what to do. She always knows what to do.      Till the next one.      From H.P

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13th August 1998Malfoy,      I spoke to Helen, and she said I should go for it. Y’know, meet Andromeda and Teddy. Get to know them and be Teddy’s godfather properly. Helen thinks it will be a step in the right direction to getting better. (Though if I’m honest, I’m not sure I’ll ever get better. Everything has come crashing down. It’s bad. It’s really bad.)      I’m going to write to Andromeda once I’ve finished this letter to you. This will just be a short one. I just wanted to tell you that I’m taking this step to try and get better. I’m making an effort. I’m finding myself a family. Maybe they will help me.      Till the next one.      From H.P

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16th August 1998Malfoy,      Bad day. Very, very bad day.      I don’t know if there will be a next one.      From H.P

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18th August 1998Malfoy,      Don’t panic. There is another letter. Another day. It’s still bad. I went back to my old coping mechanism. A lot. I shouted at Kreacher. I didn’t go and see Helen. I was meant to, but I didn’t. It was too much. I’m scared she’ll be cross at me for missing a session.      I get this kind of day a lot. A bad day. I don’t know whether to hate them or not. They feel natural. Like what I’m supposed to be doing. Hurting myself and hurting everyone around me. I’m the bad guy after all.      Andromeda wrote back, by the way. She said she and Teddy are free all the time, so I am to visit them. I might have to go soon. Y’know, just in case anything bad happens. Maybe they can distract me.      Till the next one.      From H.P

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20th August 1998Malfoy,      I saw you today. It was weird. I really wasn’t expecting to see you. It was when I was on my way to Andromeda’s house. You were with Astoria Greengrass, I think. Or Daphne. I can’t really tell the two of them apart, but I’m sure it was Astoria. Or maybe it was Pansy Parkinson, I don’t know. You were with a girl. You looked happy too. Well, you looked like shit. Like me. Tired, like you haven’t slept in weeks. And you looked sort of sunken. Hunched over. Like you have no more self confidence. But you also looked happy with the girl. (Who I am so sure was Astoria Greengrass, but whatever.) She was making you laugh. I like your laugh. And your smile. I mean, you’re a right git, but I really like your smile and laugh. Both of you were walking through the street. You passed right by me, but I don’t think you recognised me. Or if you did, you didn’t acknowledge me. I can’t decide if that was a good thing or not. I think I’d have liked it if you had said hello, but I’m not mad that you didn’t stop. You two were in your own little world.       It was weird seeing you out and about. I guess in my head, you’re not the kind of guy who would go walking with a girl in a muggle neighbourhood. (Although why you were in a muggle neighbourhood in Suffolk and not Wiltshire baffles me. Unless the Greengrass family live over here somewhere.) You’re Draco sodding Malfoy, you hated muggles when we were younger. Have you really changed that much? Or maybe this place is just the safest for you. A muggle place. No wizards around, so you’re safe. (I’m not stupid. Just cuz I don’t read the paper doesn’t mean I didn’t hear the boos when you were found not guilty. I know people hate you.) Muggles have no idea who you are, I guess. They wouldn’t shout at you or scream at you or curse you. That’s probably why you were here, then. So you could take Astoria out without worrying about being sent to St. Mungo’s.       Well whatever. I was just surprised to see you. I didn’t expect it. I hope you’re doing okay though. I know we used to hate each other (or at least, you hated me. I’m not entirely sure that I truly hated you) but I really hope you’re coping and doing alright. You don’t deserve the treatment you get. You were just a kid, after all. Just like me.       Anyway, I’m going to tell you about Andromeda and Teddy now. They’re both lovely. Like, really, really lovely. Andromeda, who told me to call her Andi, gave me the biggest hug when I arrived and said that she was over the moon that I said yes to getting to know them. Teddy was adorable too. (He’s the spitting image of Remus though. That hurt a little.) He’s four months old now, so he’s making strange baby noises when trying to talk. He’s not very heavy, but he loves a cuddle. Honestly, I picked him up when Andi said it was okay, and he giggled at me and tried to bite my nose when I kissed him. He’s so sweet! He literally refused to be put down as well. When I tried to so that Andi could give me a cup of tea, he cried and held his arm out to me. (I think he likes me!) Andi said he was attention seeking, but I’ve never held a baby before, and as he’s my godchild and I want to give him the world, I held him more. I think I held him almost the entire time I was there. Not that I minded very much. He’s such a sweet baby. I love him.       Andi and I pretty much just talked while I was there. We sat in her garden because it’s such a nice day today, and when Teddy wasn’t attached to my lap, he was lying on his stomach pulling at the grass and the daisies. It was so cute. But Andi and I mostly just talked about mindless things sort of. Well, we did have a rather heavy conversation to start off with, where she was asking me how I was coping, and I tried to tell her that I was fine, but she called my bullshit and said not to lie to her cuz I’m her family now and family look out for each other. (I nearly cried at that.) She was so kind to me and she just held me when I told her how hard it was. She said no child should have to go through the things I went through. Merlin, Malfoy, she was so nice to me. Like properly nice. She held me and listened to me and gave me tea and cake and said that I am always welcome in her house and I should come around whenever I need to. She said there is always a bed in her house for me if I ever need it. (Again, I nearly cried.)       Out of all the things I was expecting to happen today, that was not it. I was expecting her to be angry and to have an awkward conversation with me, simply putting up with me for Teddy’s sake. But no, she was genuinely so lovely to me. She was the best. I don’t think anyone has ever treated me the way she has. You might say, well, what about Molly Weasley, but the way Molly treated me was different. It wasn’t like how Andi treated me. I can’t explain it, but Andi loved me. I feel like Molly only liked me. Y’know?       Andi also talked about you and your mum. It was similar stuff to what she’d said in her letter, about how she wants to reconcile with your mum, but she doesn’t know how to, and she’s scared Narcissa will reject her and all of that. She’s also scared that you won’t want to get to know her or Teddy. She’s worried she’s become entirely outcast from the family, so much so that she doesn’t stand a chance of getting back in. She really wants to get back in. I think she loves your mum more than she’s letting on. She’s worried about the two of you as well. Worried that you’re isolating yourselves because of how you get treated. I told her I’d seen you before I came here, and she was very happy about that. She said if I see you again on a visit here, to tell you to stop by. To talk to her and see Teddy. You’re family, after all. Whether I will see you again, I don’t know. I sort of hope I do, but I don’t think I will. But if I do, I told her that I will tell you to stop by. Maybe I will apologise to you as well. Y’know, for how I treated you back in school. I was awful to you. (I mean, you were also awful to me, but I still owe you an apology.)       Anyway, today’s visit was successful. Very successful. I can’t wait to tell Helen about it, she’ll be so happy for me! It’s a step in the right direction. A step closer to getting better. I’m going to surround myself with people I love and create my own family. So far, that family is me, Kreacher, Casper, Andi and Teddy and it’s a bloody perfect family. (No, I will not include the Weasleys or Hermione. They’re not my family. Not really.)      I think I might try to sleep now. Sleeping is difficult. I get nightmares. A lot of nightmares. A lot of incredibly bad nightmares. I hate it, but Helen and I are working on it. She’s said she thinks I need someone there with me to help me at night. Someone to remind me that I’m not alone and who can hold me and love me. But I don’t leave my house. I don’t meet people. I’m a bad person. Where am I going to find someone who will love me when I am such a fucked up, bad person?       Till the next one.      From H.P

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25th August 1998Malfoy,     My Hogwarts letter arrived today. The owl that delivered it terrified me by landing on my garden table while I was trying to read my book. The bastard knocked my cup of tea onto the floor. (For that, I refused to give it any treats, so it flew off in a huff.) Honestly, I forgot that McGonagall said that she wanted our year to return to complete our NEWTs. Do you think she’s asked last year’s OWL students if they want to retake their OWLs? I’d imagine she has, if she’s invited us to do our NEWTs again. Does this mean there would be 8 years at Hogwarts? That seems like a lot of students, but then again, I suppose much of our year won’t return. Well, at least I don’t think many of us will. I certainly won’t return. I can’t go back there. Not yet. Not so soon. Hogwarts has way too many memories for me, and I’m not ready to go back and face them all, y’know? It’s all too raw and I’m not okay enough to return to all of that. I think if I went to face all those memories this year, I wouldn’t make it out of our first term. Especially all those recent memories. The war, Dumbledore’s death, the bathroom.      I never apologised to you for the bathroom. For what I did to you. Merlin, I’m a fucking monster to do that to you. It doesn’t even matter that I had no idea what the spell did. I think that even makes it worse. I should never have used an unknown spell on you. All I knew was that it was ‘for enemies,’ nothing else. That kind of spell should’ve been used on Voldemort, not you. You didn’t deserve that. Fuck, I walked in on you crying and I sliced you open. I’m so sorry for that. I owe you a proper apology. Not one written in a letter that you will never see. Maybe if I see you by Andromeda’s house again, I’ll apologise then. Because I am incredibly sorry. I was a monster. I am a monster. What kind of person walks in on their classmate having a breakdown, and then slices them open? That’s fucked up. But then again, I am fucked up. I’m a bad person. I’m a monster. I’m so, so sorry, Malfoy.     McGonagall also wrote a personal letter for me. She was asking how I was doing and how I was coping. She said she was glad I wasn’t living in London and was happy to see that I am living in my old house. My parents' house. But she said she was worried about me and that if I return to Hogwarts, she’d be happy to help me out in any way I need. She wants to help me. She wants to make sure I am okay and that I am coping. I think she really wants me to return so that she can keep an eye on me and make sure I don’t go over the edge. But I honestly think going back to Hogwarts might just push me over the edge, even if she was helping me out. I mean, I wouldn’t have Helen or Kreacher or Casper. I wouldn’t even have Andi or Teddy. I’d be all alone. I don’t want to be alone with all those memories.       Don’t say anything about Ron and Hermione and Luna and all them. The other Gryffindors. I would still be alone with them. I haven’t spoken to any of them in ages now. I feel kind of bad, but I also don’t. I’m taking my space. I need this space for my recovery. (If such a thing even exists cuz right now it seems fucking impossible.)       Well anyway. I’m not going back to Hogwarts. I can’t. It would be too much for me. I’m happy (ish) where I am in Godric’s Hollow, with Casper and Kreacher and Helen and Andi and Teddy. This is enough for me right now. If I had to deal with anything more I might lose it entirely. After all this time, I think having to go back into a school routine, dealing with homework and lessons and Quidditch and all of that, I think that might finish me off. I’m not ready for that. Not now. Maybe I can ask McGonagall in the future if I can go back and finish my education, but I can’t right now. It would be too much.      I think you are going back, aren’t you? Wasn’t it a part of your probation, to return and get your NEWTs? I have a feeling that was the case. Well, if I don’t see you, I hope your year is good. At least you won’t have me around, so maybe it will be easier for you. Not that I would’ve bothered you if I was going back. But anyway. I hope Hogwarts is good. I’ll tell Ron and Hermione not to bother you if they’re going back. I’ll tell them to leave you alone. Then you don’t have to worry about them, either.       I hope McGonagall isn’t too upset with me cuz I’m not going back. I hope she understands. She usually does understand these things. She’s wonderful. But I just worry that she’ll be expecting me to return, and I hate not living up to people’s expectations. But I think that comes with all those years of being everyone’s Golden Boy. Everyone loved me for being their Saviour, The Boy Who Lived. They all had such high expectations for me that I now feel awful when I don’t live up to them. (Another reason why I don’t read the papers. Hermione told me that there is speculation about where I am hiding, because I don’t get seen anymore. Not out and about.) They all want me to be this hero that I am not. Fucking hell, I’m barely 18, I need my time alone. I need space to be me for a bit. I need to not have all those expectations. I just need a break.       Till the next one.      From H.P.

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26th August 1998Malfoy,      Ron and Hermione came over today. They said they wanted to talk about Hogwarts and Hermione was excited for us all to do our school shopping together. Neither of them were happy when I said I wasn’t going back. They both went all quiet and looked at each other with that whole ‘Harry is making a mistake and we have to talk him out of it’ kind of look. It really upset me. Like, I can make my own decisions about my life. I’m not some vulnerable child. I’m allowed to decide to not return to Hogwarts. I’m looking after myself.      I told them everything I told you yesterday. Y’know, about not being able to return cuz of all those memories and all the stress and everything. About how I wouldn’t be able to cope if I returned so soon. Hermione tried to talk me out of staying here on my own, but I said I’m not alone. I have my own little family. Ron told me that a cat and a house elf are not a family, but then I told them about Andi and Teddy. They were both very happy for me, that I’m getting to know them and that I’m going to be Teddy’s godfather properly, but they wouldn’t let Hogwarts go. Hermione said that it’s not too late and that I can write to McGonagall to say I’ve changed my mind, but I haven’t changed my mind. I’m not going back. I told her I’ll be absolutely fine here. I’ve been doing just fine without them so far. (Ish.) I don’t need them to be okay. I’ve got Helen and everyone else. I don’t need Ron and Hermione. We need some space from each other. Merlin, we’ve spent almost every day together over the past seven years. We need a break. Well, I need a break at least. They don’t need a break from each other, but I need space.       Ron actually started listening to me when I told them about the memories and how it would be too stressful, and he managed to convince Hermione that I was right and that Hogwarts wouldn't actually help me. He listens to me properly. Hermione doesn’t really. Not anymore. She’s like Molly. She wants to look after me and make sure I am okay, but she does it on her terms. She thinks she knows what’s best for me and thinks that I can’t look after myself. (Disregarding the fact that I can’t look after myself. I have Kreacher and Casper and Helen. I am being looked after.) Anyway, she wasn’t happy, but she let it go on the condition that I come and visit them on Hogsmeade weekends. I think it’s a bit ridiculous that she expects me to somehow get up to Scotland from Suffolk every Hogsmeade weekend. I will not be doing that. That’s fucking mad. Listen, my apparition skills are okay, but I can’t apparate 500 miles. Not in this mental state. But then she said I could floo to the Three Broomsticks. She always finds fucking loopholes. So I said it would depend on the day and how I was feeling and then how often they were allowed up to Hogsmeade. (I swear, if it turns out to be every weekend cuz they’re adults now, I will scream and refuse.)       Ron thinks once a month. One or two days a month I should go up and see them in Hogsmeade and just catch up with them. He doesn’t want me to become distant or cut them off just cuz I’m in Suffolk and they’re in Scotland. I said I wouldn't, but I could tell that neither of them trusted me. Just cuz I’ve not spoken to them in two months and they think I’m going to disappear when they leave the country. Well, I agreed to once or twice a month. Every weekend is too much, but I think I can do once or twice a month. Kreacher said he would remind me to visit, because he knows I can be neglectful sometimes. (Sometimes? Almost all the time really.)       I think Hermione is still upset that I’m not coming back to school, but I really couldn’t go back. You know why. I told you yesterday, but I don’t think she believes me. I think she thinks that Hogwarts will be the best place for me, when in reality, it would be the worst place for me. Really. The worst.       I told them to not bother you, though. I said that you’d have enough on your plate without having to worry about getting shit from them. That made Ron angry, cuz he said that you deserved every bit of shit that came your way, but I told him to fuck off because you’ve suffered enough. Hermione tried to say that you’ve been awful to them in the past, but I said that’s the past. That’s not the future, and you need a break. We all need to start over and put all that hatred behind us. I told Ron to tell the rest of the eighth years to leave you alone as well. Or at least to not be wankers to you. If they want to be your friend, cool. Do it. But if they’re just gonna be a dick to you, then they should leave you alone. You don’t deserve anymore hate.      Hermione nearly slapped me when I said that, but I told her to grow up and get over herself. You were a kid, you were a dick, but now you’re an adult who has been tried and found innocent, so you need a break and you need to not be hurt anymore.       I think by the end of it they had agreed to leave you alone. But they want me to come with them on the 1st of September to wave them off and say goodbye, so I’ll remind them again then so that they really do leave you alone. And if they don’t, I’ll come all the way up there to shout at them to really get them to leave you alone. You don’t deserve anymore hate. You’re like me. You just need a break.      Till the next one.      From H.P.

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29th August 1998Malfoy,        Kingsley fucking Shacklebolt wrote to me today. (I’m considering stopping all letters coming to my house. I’m being driven insane with all this mail.) He wanted to ask me to start my auror training in January. He said I do not need any qualifications from Hogwarts in order to be an auror, what with the whole fighting dark wizards, Death Eaters and, y’know, defeating Voldemort. Apparently, because I’ve proved how capable I am at fighting against dark wizards, I can start my training immediately in January without any NEWT qualifications. However, he said if I want to get my NEWTs, I absolutely can, I just need to let him know.      HA. HA. HA. HA. HA.      He’s such a joker.      Does he seriously think I still want to become an auror? Does he not realise that I’ve had enough of fighting bad wizards? Does he not realise that I just want a fucking break?       Merlin, I was so close to writing back to him and telling him to shove his offer up his arse. But I guess that telling the Minister of Magic to shove it up his arse isn’t exactly a good thing to do, even if I am Harry bleeding Potter. So instead I said that I am no longer interested in being an auror, but thank you for his offer, and he should consider Ron Weasley as a potential auror candidate. (Ron is still banging on about being an auror when he’s left Hogwarts. I thought he would’ve gone to help George with the shop, but no. He still wants to be an auror.)       I genuinely can’t believe he asked me to be an auror. I thought I told him at the memorial that I have absolutely no interest in being an auror anymore. I just want some quiet time and a break. I need a break. A big, long break without any fighting or hate or evil magic. Fuck, I think if I had the power to give up all magic and become a muggle, I genuinely think I would’ve. The amount of times I’ve thought about running away to the states or Australia or Canada is probably unhealthy. (It is unhealthy. Helen said so. I shouldn’t run away from my problems.)       So I’m not running away. I moved to Godric’s Hollow because London suffocated me and Sirius’ old house was just too much for me. I needed to get away from all that. Godric’s Hollow was a fresh start and Merlin, I’m so glad I did move. I genuinely think that if I had stayed in London, I wouldn’t be here today. Not with all that stress and in that big old house. No. I couldn’t do that. Godric’s Hollow is much nicer. I can breathe easily here. (Ish.) Much easier than I would if I was in London. Plus, here I feel sort of connected to my mum and dad. This was their house. It was my house. It was only right that I return here.       I think Kingsley will be upset that I don’t want to be an auror. (Sorry, I can’t get over his letter. It’s really upsetting me.) He shouldn’t be. I told him at the memorial that I don’t want to be one, so why he sent me this letter I have no idea. I haven’t changed my mind. I never will. After everything I have been through, why the fuck would I want to do it every day for the rest of my life? I’m fucking traumatised from all of that. I need a rest. I need to get away from all of that. There’s no fucking way I’m ever going to be an auror.     Also, I have a feeling that the Ministry wants me to be their poster boy. Cuz everyone’s having a hard time trusting them right now, I think that they think if they had me working for them, they could display that and say ‘look! We’re not evil! Harry Potter works for us! Look at how good we are!’ Fuck off. Literally fuck off. I don’t want my face anywhere near the Ministry. I won’t work for them, I won’t be their poster boy, I won’t have anything to do with them. I’ve earnt my break and I’m bloody well taking it and no-one can take it away from me. I deserve this. My break. It’s mine and they can’t force me into giving it up.       Till the next one.      From H.P.

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1st September 1998Malfoy,      I saw you again today and I know you saw me. I meant to speak to you and go up to you, but you disappeared and I was getting very overwhelmed.      It was at Platform 9¾. I was with the usual Weasley clan to wave off Ron, Hermione and Ginny (who gave me a hug and apologised for verbally abusing me in the middle of a park. We’re friends again now.) You were with your mum and Astoria Greengrass. You were all smiling. It was nice to see. It was also nice to see that people were mostly ignoring you. They weren’t giving you shit. They were just going about their day at the station ignoring you. That was good to see.       Ron and Hermione and Ginny stole my attention again then, as they were going and I gave them all a hug and said goodbye and I stood with Molly to watch them get on the Hogwarts Express. Molly asked me if I regretted my decision to not go and asked if I wished I was on the train with them. I said no. I haven’t changed my mind. I am very glad to not be on that train on my way to Scotland. I’m perfectly happy in Godric’s Hollow.       We stood for a bit longer, Molly glaring at anyone who came near us to talk to me, and I looked back at you. You were staring right at me. You looked surprised and confused. Either you were surprised I was at the station in the first place, or you were surprised I didn’t get on the train. I’m gonna assume you were surprised I didn’t get on the train with the others.       I nearly waved at you then. I tried to smile at you, but that just made you frown, so I stopped. You had your head on one side, and I was about to wave, but then Astoria took hold of your arm and a bunch of people crammed forwards because the train blew its final calling whistle. I lost sight of you.       I tried to go towards where you had been, because even if you weren’t there, I wanted to speak to your mum. But Molly stopped me and said we needed to go. I was close to snapping at her and telling her to fuck off because I am an adult and I can do what I want, but I didn’t. Because there were a lot of people around us. Like a lot. And I couldn’t hear what Molly was saying to me. So I knew then that it was time to go. I can’t stay in places with too many people and too much noise. What if I get attacked and I don’t hear my attacker coming? What if something bad happened and there were too many people in my way? (These are more reasons why I can’t be an auror. I’m shit use in crowded spaces.)      Molly wanted me to go back with her to the Burrow. She didn’t think it was a good idea for me to be going back home ‘all alone.’ But I reminded her I wasn’t alone, and that I had Casper and Kreacher. She looked sceptical, but I said goodbye and apparated home before she could tell me otherwise.       I wish I had spoken to you at the platform, but I know that there were too many people and we would’ve been stared at and that would’ve been bad. I’ll try and see you when I come up for the first Hogsmeade weekend. Y’know, to say sorry and to tell you that Andi wants to meet you properly. You’re her nephew after all.       Kreacher’s made soup for lunch today. Soup and crusty bread.       Till the next one.      From H.P.

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5th September 1998Malfoy,      Sometimes I wonder what the point of it all is. Y’know. Life. Living. Why should we live when life gets this hard? It’s so hard. Sometimes I wonder what everyone would do if I just gave up? Would they care? I’ve practically cut myself off from everyone.       Sometimes I wonder why I bother. Why I keep going. It’s hard. I want to give up. I want to stop. I don’t want life to be like this all the time. No more. Please, no more.      Till the next one.      From H.P.

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9th September 1998Malfoy,      I spent the last four days in bed. I missed an appointment with Helen. (She sent me a letter. She’s worried about me.) Kreacher got very upset because I stopped eating. That’s not really been the biggest issue in the past, but it’s become a lot bigger now. (I’ve not even told Helen this.) I’ve stopped eating as much as I used to. Kreacher practically forces stuff down my throat sometimes, but most of the time, I don’t eat. It’s become one meal a day. (A snack at twelve.) Unless Kreacher is particularly persistent, then I eat more, but most of the time I can avoid his overfeeding tendencies. (He doesn’t overfeed. I just undereat.)      Casper is worried too. I can tell. He’s being overly clingy. He never leaves me alone when he’s worried about me. It upsets me to see the two of them like this, but what can I do? It’s not my fault I’m like this. (I’m blaming Voldemort. And Dumbledore, and my aunt and uncle and cousin.) I’m traumatised. (Helen’s words. I used to not agree, but now I don’t think there’s a better description for me.)      Also, am I overusing brackets? Hermione told me you use them for an afterthought. They are afterthoughts. I have a feeling that if I actually sent you these letters, you would be telling me that I am using far too many brackets. You’re that kind of person, I know it.       Anyway, Kreacher is upset with me because I’m not eating properly. He’s getting really upset and I really hate seeing him this way. But I know he hates seeing me like this. We’re trapped in this circle where we hate how distressed and upset and unwell each other are, but we can’t do anything about it. I guess I can though, because it’s all my fault. If I wasn’t like this, then he wouldn’t be like how he is. So I need to fix myself, but I’m struggling to do that. I thought it would be easy, but it’s really not. And I’m really struggling to fix myself.       I’m really struggling.      Till the next one.      From H.P.

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11th September 1998Malfoy,      Sometimes I hate Helen. Only sometimes. 99% of the time, she’s absolutely wonderful and helps me more than anyone else ever would be able to. But sometimes, just sometimes, I hate her. (She demanded an extra session yesterday cuz I missed our usual Tuesday session. The bastard, I didn’t need an extra session.)      She has this habit, which I suppose is a habit that all therapists or mind healers have. It’s where she can tell what’s up with me and she knows I hide things and she digs right into my mind (metaphorically, I mean, she does not use legilimency) and finds things that I didn’t even know were there that upset me.       Exhibit A: My Childhood.      Listen, I know my childhood wasn’t brilliant. I slept in a cupboard under the stairs for the first eleven years of my life, I wasn’t allowed food sometimes, I had to cook and clean, I lived a lie where I believed I was a ‘normal’ human (muggle) and that my parents died in a car crash. I didn’t have any friends, I was bullied by my older cousin, I got ignored and pushed aside. That’s not a great childhood. Of course that’s not a great childhood. Hence why I partly blame my relatives for how I turned out.       But Helen said not only was that not a great childhood, apparently that was a childhood of abuse. Apparently I was abused by my own family for the first eleven years of my life, and then some when I went home every year for the summer holidays.      I wasn’t abused, right? I may have been a little bit neglected by my aunt and uncle, but I wasn’t abused, right? Right???      I mean, Uncle Vernon hit me sometimes, but that was just when I had been bad and needed to be taught a lesson. All kids get hit when they’ve been bad. (Helen said no. That’s not normal. That’s child abuse.) I wasn’t allowed food if I was bad. If I hadn’t done the chores up to the right standard, the punishment was no food and to be locked in the cupboard for however long my aunt and uncle thought was necessary.       They forgot about me in there once. It took my neighbour Mrs Figg knocking on the door asking where I was to remind them that I existed. They made up some story about me being really ill. Two days I spent in that cupboard without food or water. It was hot. That’s definitely not normal, but that was one time. I wasn’t abused. Right?       Helen is fixed on the idea that I was abused though. She keeps comparing me to my cousin. ‘Well Harry, did Dudley get locked in a cupboard?’ ‘Did they refuse to feed Dudley?’ ‘Did Dudley have to do any chores?’ ‘Did Vernon hit Dudley?’ The answer is no to all those fucking questions, because he was their little Duddykins who could do no wrong in their eyes. Dudley hit me? Oh no, he can’t control his body movements sometimes, it was an accident. Dudley screams abuse at our neighbours? He’s a bit mentally challenged, he doesn’t mean it, he’s a sweet boy really.       But they didn’t do anything to him like they did to me, because he is their blood. Sure, I am too, technically, but they never saw me like that. Dudley is their son. I’m just their annoying magical nephew who got dumped on their doorstep one night out of the blue. (Yes. Dumped on their doorstep. Dumbledore didn’t even go inside and talk to them about the whole situation. He left me on the doorstep like some pathetic orphan. Ignoring the fact that I am a pathetic orphan, I think that’s pretty horrible of him to do. Maybe that’s where all my issues started with him.)       I knew my aunt and uncle didn’t love me. That became clear to me at a very young age when I realised I wasn’t being treated the same way as Dudley. And that was fine, I had accepted that. I accepted that a long time ago. I accepted that because I still had to live there. There was no point in making it worse by feeling sorry for myself because they didn’t love me. They didn’t love me. But did they really abuse me? Was all of that stuff abuse? Is Helen right? (She almost definitely is, but I really hope she’s wrong about this.)      Ron and Hermione used to point out small things back when we were at Hogwarts that they knew were bad. Like, I had bars on my bedroom window at the end of my first year because my aunt and uncle were afraid of me letting Hedwig out and having her flying around the neighbourhood. Ron, Fred and George broke me out with their dad’s flying car and I spent the rest of the summer at the Weasleys. They said that was bad. Hermione also used to point out about my eating. She said I ate loads at Hogwarts, and I remember telling her that I was used to not getting lots of food at home, so it was nice to get food here. She said not getting loads of food wasn’t normal, and she would always see how skinny I’d become over the summer because of being underfed. (Maybe that’s another reason I’m having eating issues again.)      Ron was also appalled at the fact that my bedroom used to be a cupboard under the stairs for the first eleven years of my life and that the only reason I got a proper bedroom at the end of first year (with bars on the window) was because Hagrid and Dumbledore pretty much forced my aunt and uncle to give me one because a cupboard was bad.       I have this feeling that if you actually saw this letter, you would be coming over here and slapping me about the face, screaming at me ‘of course they abused you Scarhead, look at all the evidence!’ That seems like a very you thing to do, Malfoy. Tell me off and tell me that I’m stupid for not recognising that I was heavily abused throughout my childhood.       Fuck.      I was abused.       Like, abused abused. Properly abused. I was neglected, unloved, pushed aside and abused. Helen was right. I hate it when Helen is right.       I need alcohol.      Till the next one.      From H.P.

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13th September 1998Malfoy,      Andi invited me over again. I really like how close our houses are. She’s another hour’s walk away from me, but in the opposite direction to Helen’s place. She didn’t realise when she moved just how close she was to Godric’s Hollow.       I walked over there instead of apparating. Helen’s rule about walking I think is important, but it’s okay to break it sometimes. Plus, it was a really nice day today. I saw a lot of people out on my walk. Older couples out walking their old dog, mums with pushchairs, teenagers sitting together talking in the parks. It was really nice to see so many people out and about. It was even nicer that not a single one of them knew who I was. Or if they did, they didn’t say anything about it. They all left me alone.      Teddy was very, very happy to see me. When I walked in, he practically screamed and held his arms up to me and then tried to eat my nose when I picked him up. (He’s cute though, so I forgave him for trying to bite my nose off.) He then barely let me go the entire time, always hanging around my feet or climbing into my lap. He’s so clingy. Andi says it’s because he loves me. Also, he changed his hair. He’s a metamorphmagus, like his mum, Tonks, was, Andi told me. Teddy was staring at me really hard when I was talking to Andi, then I looked down at him and his hair turned black and his eyes a bright green. He copied me. Exactly.       Usually, Andi says, his hair is sandy brown and eyes a dark brown, the spitting image of Remus. That’s what he looked like when I was last over, but once he had changed to look like me, he refused to change back. He babbled at me and tried to pull my hair and he was always smiling. Merlin, Malfoy, who knew that having a baby smile at you would make you so goddamn happy? He made my day. Literally. He’s so cute! I can’t wait to get better so I can take him out and spend more time with him. I want to get better for him. I really do. It’s just hard.      I helped Andi bake cupcakes. She said she had been meaning to for a while but hadn’t gotten around to it, so I helped her out. We made chocolate chip cupcakes, with buttercream icing. They were delicious! We put Teddy down for a nap before we made them, then while the cupcakes were baking, we sat in her living room with tea and chatted again. I like getting to know Andi. She’s such an interesting woman. Did you know she was in Slytherin but she was still disowned by her family because she married a muggleborn? Even though she was a diligent daughter, because she didn’t marry ‘pure’ they disowned her. Fucking harsh, but whatever. She said she didn’t mind. The only people she ever got on with were Sirius, Regulus and your mum. She said that she and Bellatrix never saw eye to eye. She was just happy to get out of the toxicity within the family and start her own with Ted.       Once the cupcakes were done, Teddy had woken up, so we all sat in the garden with tea and cake. They were delicious cupcakes. I asked Andi for the recipe so maybe I’ll bake them myself at home. With Kreacher’s help, of course. Even though I am perfectly capable of cooking and baking anything, he has to supervise the kitchen. That’s his zone, and I don’t mind that. He likes having a zone in the house. I’m allowed in whenever I want obviously, it is my house, but he is the boss in the kitchen.       Andi’s house is lovely. I really like it there. But I want her to see my house too. I think next time, I will invite her over. Kreacher can help me make a nice meal for her and Teddy and we will make the house look all nice for them. I think that would be good. Today was good. I like it when there is a good day. Gives me a nice break from all the bad days.      Till the next one.      From H.P.

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14th September 1998Malfoy,      Hermione is not happy with me. You remember how I said that I’d go up for the first Hogsmeade weekend? Yeah, that was this weekend. Y’know, the 12th and 13th of September. And as you might remember, I was at Andi’s yesterday. I didn’t go up to Hogsmeade. I couldn’t. Saturday was really hard for me (I didn’t get out of bed) and well, Sunday I was with Andi and Teddy. And I think that’s a much better use of my weekend than going up to a place that I can’t face right now.       Ron wrote to me this morning saying how he and Hermione were both upset that I hadn’t visited, nor had I told them that I wouldn’t be visiting. They had assumed I was given that they thought I’d promised to visit on the first weekend, but I didn’t promise. I just said it would depend on how I feel. And then I forgot that it was Hogsmeade because Saturday was shit and Andi invited me over on Sunday.       I feel kind of bad, but I also don’t. Y’know? I get they’re my friends and they’re worried about me, but I don’t owe them a visit just because it’s the first Hogsmeade weekend. I told Ron I’d try and come up the next weekend, which is in two weeks. I’ve asked Kreacher to remind me, because there is no way I will remember that. I’m kind of a forgetful person. But you probably knew that about me anyway. You were always watching me. You used to tease me about needing Neville’s rememberall back in first year. Remember?      I do kind of miss that. All the naivety and innocence and freedom. Stress free. (Well, it wasn’t stress free at all, but like, it was less stressful than when we got older.) I want to go back to it all. Before all the fighting and the hate and the deaths. Before the war. That was a better time. First, second and third year. They were the better years. Even with Voldemort on the back of Quirrel’s head, a Basilisk stunning everyone and dementors surrounding the school because of a ‘free, deranged murderer.’ Y’know. Simpler times. Haha.       I hope you’re coping okay at school. Ron didn’t mention anything about you. I’ll ask when I visit. Or maybe I’ll see you. I hope I see you, so I can tell you about Andi and Teddy. I just want to know if you are okay and that you’re not getting any crap from anyone. I just don’t want you to suffer anymore.       Till the next one.      From H.P.

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18th September 1998Malfoy,      My neighbours invited me over to their house this afternoon. Miriam and David live in the house left of mine and they were hosting a garden party this afternoon because it was still warm and everyone had the afternoon off so they invited their few friends over and me. I was the youngest there by quite a long way (Miriam and David are retired. I think 90% of Godric’s Hollow is retired) but that really didn’t matter. Everyone was so lovely to me. They were really, really welcoming. It was actually wonderful.      Miriam said she’d invited me because she’d seen me alone in my house and said I looked too lonely and sad and no 18 year old should look that lonely and sad, so even if they were surrounded by old people, that was better than being alone.      She was kind of right though, y’know. It was actually nice with them in their garden. Sure, I like being alone in my house, but it’s nice being out with other people too. Hanging out. Having fun. Even if they are all above the age of 65.      David had made two big jugs of Pimms (muggle alcohol) and claimed that even though it was the 18th of September didn’t mean summer was over, because the weather certainly didn’t think summer was over, so Pimms was allowed. No-one complained. There was your typical muggle garden party food laid out as well. Little ham, cheese or cucumber sandwiches, with sausage rolls and scotch eggs, and cakes and biscuits at the side. Miriam and David had prepared it all and invited everyone over.       David had managed to get his CD player outside as well, so that there was music playing for the party. Admittedly, I didn’t know much of the music they played, because it was mostly all old people’s music, but I recognised a few of The Beatles and Queen’s songs. Miriam danced with me to a few of the songs, and that made other people dance with me. Everyone was dancing together. I say dancing, it was a lot of moving from side to side or spinning or swaying, given that everyone (bar me) was above the age of 65, but it was a lot of fun.       There was such a sense of community in that garden. Like everyone knew each other and were friends and cared for each other. It was nice. Reminds me of Gryffindor a bit. I know you’d say that us lions are too brash for all that, but we cared for each other immensely. We protected each other and stood up for each other and made sure we were all safe and happy. Sure, we argued far too much, but that’s what comes with having friends like I did in Gryffindor. There were so many arguments and disagreements, but even with that, we stuck up for each other and loved each other. We were a community. It was safe.      I hadn’t really realised just how much I’d missed shit like that. I love being on my own, don’t get me wrong, but I have missed that kind of stuff. Being together and  having fun with friends. Admittedly, this party was absolutely nothing like the ones we used to throw in Gryffindor, but it was just as cool.      All of Miriam and David’s friends welcomed me. I kind of felt like I was surrounded by grandparents in the sense that they all wanted to talk to me and fawn over me and make sure I was okay. One of them, this lovely lady called Barbara, kept putting food onto my plate when she saw I had eaten what was on there. She claimed that I was too skinny and needed some meat on my bones. (The others agreed.) I didn’t have the heart to tell her that I can’t eat lots, so I just sort of kept eating what she put on my plate. And y’know what? It wasn’t bad.      Like, I think it was because it was just little and often. Kind of. Like, I’d have a cucumber sandwich and a sausage roll on my plate, eat them, then five minutes later there would be a ham sandwich and a scotch egg and two biscuits. It just kept going like that, sort of. It wasn’t all at once, just little bits. It wasn’t overwhelming, it wasn’t too much. It was okay. Maybe I should tell Kreacher that is what I need. Or maybe I should keep this as a one off. I can’t keep eating. Not really. I don’t exactly deserve it, do I?      I should be dead. (I’ve never told anyone this. Not even Helen.) I don’t know if your mum told you this, but I died back in that clearing. You remember when Voldemort summoned me and I went? Yeah, well, he shot a killing curse at me and I fucking died. Like, properly died. I went to this sort of limbo land where Dumbledore was and he said I could get on a train and go on, or I could go back. I came back because I knew Voldemort was still about, and I knew I needed to kill him and save everyone. (That sounds so self centred, but it’s true. According to the prophecy, I had to kill him.) Anyway, I came back and your mum lied to Voldemort to save me. She asked me if you were alive, I nodded, and she proclaimed me dead to Voldemort. Your mum saved my life that day. I need to write her a letter. I never properly thanked her for that.      Although, now I’m here, suffering, having lost all my family, I’m not exactly sure I’m thankful to be alive. Dumbledore once told me ‘Don’t pity the dead, pity the living.’ I agree. The dead are dead, what can they do? But people like me, we have to live on with all that pain and grief without those we lost. We have all the struggles, they don’t.       I’m going to be honest with you, Malfoy. If, right now, I could go back to limbo with Dumbledore, hearing that train pulling into the station, and if he asked me whether I’m getting on the train or going back, I would get on the train. I would go on. Wherever that was. The afterlife. I wouldn’t return to all this suffering and pain and grief. I’d go on. I wouldn’t cheat Death and Fate, I’d just stay dead. Like I was supposed to. Like Fate and Death intended me to.       That’s slightly morbid, I guess, but also not. I shouldn’t be here right now. I’m living on borrowed time, y’know? This is why I shouldn’t be eating. I don’t deserve the food. I wasn’t supposed to have this food, so why should I eat it? No-one else got the choice to come back. They all had to go on. Not me though. I came back. I cheated Fate and Death and I came back. I needed to, but I wish I didn’t have to live with all of this. I wish I hadn’t.       I should tell Helen this, I think. She’ll want me to tell her. She’ll want to know. She probably needs to know. (I bet you’d tell me to tell her if you read this. I can’t keep this shit to myself. Helen needs to know, doesn’t she?)      Till the next one.      From H.P.

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21st September 1998Malfoy,      Molly Weasley invited me over to the Burrow today. She said in her letter that I was isolating myself and that wasn’t healthy and I need to stop hiding away and come for lunch. Because she and Arthur miss me. She’s said that the Burrow is too quiet nowadays anyway. Bill lives with Fleur by the coast, Charlie is off with his dragons, Percy has moved in with Oliver Wood, (I’ll tell you about that in a minute) George barely comes out of his room, Fred, well, Fred is dead, and Ron and Ginny are at Hogwarts. She said it’s way too quiet, and since I’m not at Hogwarts, I should come and visit her and Arthur. I should stop hiding and come and see them.       Honestly though? I can’t. I can’t face her again. Not just yet. I last saw her the last time I got coffee with Ron and Hermione, which was at the end of June. Nearly three months. I can’t face her. Not when it’s my fault that Fred is dead. He was fighting for me and for my side. And he died. George barely talks to me. (Well, George barely speaks to anyone, but every time I’ve been there, he’s only ever said hello and goodbye. He barely looks at me.) I think he blames me. I asked Molly this, but she said I was being ridiculous because of course it’s not my fault Fred died. But I feel like it is, and I think George blames me.       And honestly, I don’t think I’d be able to face a quiet Burrow. That place is always so full of love and laughter and life. Yet now it’s practically empty. It would be too big and empty and quiet. I suppose that’s how Molly, Arthur and George feel, but I can’t cope with that. Not there. I can do it here, because this is my home and it’s not even that big, but at the Burrow? Absolutely not. That house is full of some of my best goddamn memories. How am I supposed to go into that house without all that energy and life?      Molly did say that Charlie was back in the country for a bit though. He’s up in Scotland visiting Ron and Ginny at school for a bit, but then he’s coming back down to the Burrow to stay with his parents for a bit. Molly said he wants to see me and catch up with me, which I find a little strange cuz I barely ever had anything to do with Charlie. He helped with Norbert back in first year, and I vaguely saw him at the Quidditch World Cup in fourth year, and he helped in fourth year with the dragons in the Triwizard tournament, but other than that I barely spoke to him. I don’t know him, really. So why he wants to speak to me I have no idea. It’s a little bit strange. Not that I’m complaining. Ron always admired Charlie, so I’d kind of like to talk to him anyway.      But still, I can’t go there. Not yet anyway. Not when I’m like this. I think I’ll visit her someday when I have gotten a bit better. I just need a little bit more time before I go over there again. I need to get a bit better first.      Oh, yes, Percy and Oliver Wood. I said I’d tell you about that! Well, I didn’t know this, but Percy was always close friends with Oliver (who you should remember. He was captain of Gryffindor Quidditch in first year.) They went through a rocky patch during the war because of Percy’s position in the Ministry, but apparently they reconnected after the war, and apparently they were a little bit more than friends back before it all.      Molly said that Percy was always overly fond of Oliver, so she said she wasn’t surprised when Percy turned around after the war and said that he loved Oliver and that the two of them wanted to move in together. I think it’s kind of sweet. They both deserve to be happy, and I’m happy they found each other. Molly said she’s going to invite them over for dinner and that I should come to that as well. I’m family, apparently, so I should be there. (I’m not her family. I have no family.)      I think I’d like to remeet Percy and Oliver anyway. Another day though. Same with Charlie. I’ll see them another day, just not yet. I need to get a bit better first. Hopefully Molly will understand. Hopefully she won’t be too angry at me. I hate it when Molly is angry.       Till the next one.      From H.P.

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25th September 1998Malfoy,      Fucking Charlie Weasley appeared on my doorstep this morning. No, I was not expecting him, nor had I invited him. Molly hadn’t even written ahead saying that he was coming over. He just appeared with no warning! Kreacher got cross then because he hadn’t planned on feeding an extra person, and Casper got very protective of me, not wanting Charlie anywhere near me. I felt kind of sorry for Charlie, but he didn’t seem to mind. He seemed kind of amused. Like he found them funny.       I asked him why he was here and he basically said what Molly had said in her letter the other day: he wanted to catch up with me, and since I refused to go to the Burrow, he came here. Half of me wanted to tell him to fuck right off and that he had no right turning up here unannounced, but the other half of me actually really wanted to get to know him. So I invited him in and we sat in my kitchen drinking tea and eating the food Kreacher gave us. Well, he ate. I didn’t. I told him I’d eaten earlier. (Kreacher wasn’t in the kitchen at the time to tell me off for that lie.)      He said he never got a chance to properly get to know me and now that I’m not at Hogwarts and he has a bit of free time, he wants to ‘see what all the hype is about.’ (That made me laugh.) He did say that he’s always been curious about me since we sent Norbert off back in first year and he was helping us with that. He said something about thinking I must’ve been a pretty cool kid to rope in the teacher’s pet and his little brother to deal with an illegal Norwegian Ridgeback in Hogwarts. I just told him it was Ron’s idea to get him involved, and Hermione was only there because she had been with us in Hagrid’s hut when Norbert hatched.       Norbert is apparently very happy though in his home in Romania and has found a mate and has four kids (who are, according to Charlie, a massive handful and keep causing him and his team loads of problems.)       We chatted loads though, the two of us. We talked about his work in Romania mostly, cuz I think he’s insane for working with dragons day in and day out. My second encounter with a dragon put me off the creatures for life. (That was in the Triwizard tournament, so can you really blame me for not being too fond of dragons?) He tried to convince me to come back with him, but I told him absolutely no way in the whole world would I ever come to Romania (or anywhere) to work with dragons. That’s terrifying. I’d rather face Voldemort again.       He asked me loads about how I was doing and if I had any plans for my future, and I admitted to him that I didn’t think I’d have a future, so I don’t have plans. My current plan is just to start getting better. He said he thought I wanted to become an auror, what did I mean I didn’t think I’d have a future? So I had to explain that Dumbledore had basically raised me like a pig for slaughter. My whole purpose in the war was to die. Dumbledore knew all along that I had to die to defeat Voldemort, but he never told me. (I learnt through Snape’s memories.)       Charlie said he understood why I wouldn’t want to be an auror anymore. Apparently my defeating Voldemort was on the front page of every European newspaper when it happened. I didn’t realise this shit would be important abroad. Well, I knew that if Voldemort won, it would be important, cuz he wanted the entire Wizarding World under his belt, but to me, it felt like more of a fight in Britain, amongst the British Wizarding World, y’know? It never really occurred to me that he would want to go to Europe or America and the rest of the world if he won in Britain. But Charlie said the Romanians were very worried that Voldemort would win. (They were very glad that the fighting was happening in Britain, but they were scared.)      We also sort of talked about mindless nonsense mostly, like stupid things we did at school, or what foods we liked cooking. Y’know, small talk. It was actually kind of nice just to mindlessly talk to someone. He wasn’t pushy on my well-being or asking if I was fine or if he could do anything for me. He just said that he would be there for me if I needed him, which I thought was very nice of him.       Charlie is a really great guy, if I’m honest. I think, if I’d had the chance, I’d have loved to get to know him back at Hogwarts. Like, I know he’d left by the time we’d joined and had fucked off to Romania, but I wish I’d had the chance to get to know him when I was younger. He’s cool. But at least I get that chance now, I guess. I can get to know him better now. Even if I am a bit fucked up myself, but he doesn’t seem to mind. He wants to get to know me, trauma and all, he said. He’s got trauma too, from working with dragons, so he’s not phased by any. He said he thinks that people with trauma are just as loveable as people without and we deserve happiness just as much as the next person.       I think he’s got a point. I was convinced for such a long time that I was unlovable. The Dursley’s didn’t love me, Cho didn’t love me, Ginny didn’t love me. I was bullied at school, my friends turned against me and refused to contact me sometimes, I was bullied by the Ministry and made to look like a fucking liar to the whole British Wizarding World. Plus, everyone I’d ever loved had died, so I never really got to have that love. Proper love, I mean. Cho and Ginny didn’t really love me. No-one did. I learnt that I was very difficult to love.       Half of me still thinks I am difficult to love. Ron and Hermione are struggling to still be friends with me because of how I am, I don’t see anyone, I don’t fall in love with people. Besides, who would love me? I’m fucked up. I have nightmares every night, I struggle to get out of bed, I struggle to eat, I struggle. Everything is a struggle now. I’m barely functioning. I can’t love myself, so how can someone love me?      I told Charlie this and he said that I’m valid for thinking like that, but that I have to know that I am worth love and that I am not difficult to love, I just need the right person, because the right person won’t find me difficult to love. The right person will love me, all of me, just how I am, trauma and all. He said that the right person won’t ignore my trauma, nor will they love me ‘despite’ my trauma, but they will love me with it and will help me with it and will encourage healing and getting better.       If the person I am with does not love my trauma, then I have not found the right person and I need to keep looking. I asked him how am I supposed to find the right person if I can barely leave the house, and he said baby steps. I go out for walks, write to old friends, go to the pub if I feel up to it, talk to people, sit out the front of my house and wave at passers by. That kind of shit. Even though all of that sounds kind of terrifying right now, I think I might have to try it. Helen says she thinks I need someone at home to help me with my nightmares and self care, so I probably should try this. Try and find the right person.      Something that I did really like was that through this whole conversation, Charlie said the right ‘person,’ not the right ‘woman.’ I know he isn’t particularly interested in relationships and prefers to be friends, but I really like that he didn’t just assume that my right person would be a woman. Don’t get me wrong, they could be, but they could also be a man cuz I am bisexual. Charlie didn’t know this though (not until I told him.) No-one knew. I realised ages ago, back in fourth year (because Cedric Diggory was proper fit) but I kept it hidden. I didn’t want anyone else to know, in a way. It was my secret, something that only I knew and I liked that. Charlie is actually the first person I’ve told, and I only told him because I wanted him to know how happy I was that he was saying ‘person’ and not ‘woman.’      I don’t think I’ll tell anyone else unless it becomes relevant. Like, if I start dating a man or start having feelings for a man (which I am not entirely sure will happen if I continue to stay shut away in my house.) I like that it’s my little thing. Charlie promised not to tell anyone, but he said that he was happy for me that I figured out that part of me.       Even though I didn’t want to see him, I’m actually really glad Charlie came over today. I felt like a normal person for once. I didn’t feel like some broken and traumatised man who lives alone with a cat and a house elf and doesn’t speak to anyone. I felt normal. It was nice.       Charlie promised to stop by again next time he was back in the UK. He’s got three weeks here now, so he’s with his parents for a bit and says that he’ll either visit me again, or drag me to the Burrow for a meal while he is still over. I wished him luck with that, because I’m not going to the Burrow in this state. He’s taken it as a challenge, I think, so I have a feeling that at some point within the next couple of weeks, I will be attending a Weasley dinner. (That is a scary prospect. I’m not quite ready for that again. Not just yet.)      Till the next one.      From H.P.

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31st September 1998Malfoy,      I feel like all the days are starting to blend together. Like everything is becoming one big long stretch of time. I didn’t even notice that today was the last day of September. Time is going awry for me. It’s not staying in place. It’s all different. It moves on without me, leaving me trapped in my past, haunted by everything I went through.       Life is getting really, really difficult. And I know it seems like that from all my last letters, but I think something is different now. I can’t tell what it is, but something has changed. It’s gotten worse.      Like, a lot worse.      Till the next one.      From H.P.

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3rd October 1998Malfoy,      It was the second Hogsmeade weekend this weekend, and I actually went to this one. I wasn’t going to, but then Kreacher forced me to get up and get dressed and I flooed up to the Hog’s Head where Hermione and Ron were meeting me. I got a lot of stares, but Ron put his arm around my shoulders and he and Hermione took me out of the pub and we went to Honeydukes.       A lot of people were around. A lot of students too. So many people stared at me. Like so, so many. I felt very uncomfortable with it all, really. I don’t want to be the centre of attention anymore, I just want to live my own damn life without all the attention. I want to be left the fuck alone. (Apparently, the general Wizarding population hasn’t realised that. Even with me hiding away from them. Yes, hiding, I admit it. I don’t want to be seen out and about. I want to be left alone.)      We went to Honeydukes and Zonkos and Tomes and Scrolls to shop, and then we met Seamus, Dean, Neville, Ginny and Luna in the Three Broomsticks for butterbeer. They were all very happy to see me, and it was nice because no-one bothered us. Me. No-one came up to me, or disturbed us, or interrupted us. We were left alone. I mean, of course we were stared at, but no-one did anything.       Madame Rosmerta gave me a hug when we got in. She said thank you for saving us and then gave me a free firewhiskey. (Hermione thought that was stupid but for fucks sake, I’m 18 and I don’t go to school anymore. I’m allowed alcohol.) Then she gave us discounted butterbeers, which was generous of her. She said we deserved it for all our bravery and courage and all that.       It was actually nice to be back with my friends. I don’t think I’d realised how much I’d missed them. I mean sure, I didn’t exactly talk while we were in the pub (it was so overwhelming in there) but y’know, it’s just being around them that helps sometimes. That’s what Helen told me once. Sometimes, being with your favourite people, even if you don’t speak, is helping you heal in itself, cuz you’re with your favourite people and they are your favourite people for a reason. They’re special. They mean a lot to you.       Those guys mean the world to me. Even if I am shit at responding to letters and talking to them and making an effort to see them. I mean, I hate that I’m like that, but I can’t help that. Not really. (Helen and I are working on that, okay? Give us some time. I’m sure I’ll get better. I have to get better.) They said they don’t mind too much, but I can tell that they do. They hate how ‘drawn back and isolated’ I am (Ron’s words.) I know they want me to make an effort, but I don’t think they realise how hard it is for me. I don’t think they’ve clocked that yet.      But anyway, it was really nice to see them. We stayed in the pub for ages, just talking. They told me all the news and told me about everything that was going on. I asked about you and Ron said you were just keeping yourself to yourself, staying with your Slytherins and getting on with your work. Which is fair enough. I’m glad you’re not having a hard time. Well, not too hard, at least. Luna said that you had been attacked a few times and people shunned you, which I hate and I got really upset at, but she said the attacks have mostly stopped now. That’s good. Half of me wishes I was there to hurt the bastards who hurt you. You don’t deserve any more hurt.       I also saw you in Hogsmeade. It was when we left the pub. Seamus and Dean went off to do more shopping, Ginny and Luna went back up to the castle, and Ron and Hermione were taking me back to the Hog’s Head to floo home, but we had to stop because I needed to speak to you. I saw you, I had to tell you what Andromeda said.      You didn’t look great, if I’m honest. I mean you dressed up really well, in all your robes and pureblood finery and all that, but you looked tired. I could tell that when I saw you. You were all small, in a way. You made yourself small. And you don’t hold yourself the way you used to. Your shoulders slump like you’ve given up and you look more towards the floor than higher up like you used to. I can’t lie, Malfoy, it really upset me to see you like that. It looked like you’d given up. Like you were hiding. I hate that. Don’t do that. You should stand tall and tell them all to fuck off cuz you’re not afraid of them and their pathetic threats.       Anyway, you looked kind of scared when I came up to you. Ron and Hermione tried to tell me to leave you alone, but Andi wanted me to tell you to visit her, so I had to. Zabini and Parkinson were with you and they looked ready to kill me if I so much as breathed wrong around you. (Also I never noticed how fit Zabini is. Now there is a man who cleans up well!)       I told you what Andi said. You were surprised. Like, really surprised. I think Zabini and Parkinson were as well, that all I had to say was that your aunt wanted you to visit and reconnect with you and your mum. It was actually nice, because you weren’t a prick about it and you weren’t a prick to me, and we talked about Teddy and Andi. I’ll admit it was really fucking weird to be having a proper conversation with you without shouting or fighting, but I preferred it. (Like, a lot. It’s so much better to actually chat to you rather than fight with you.)       It made me happy that you were interested in meeting Andi and Teddy. And you know what made me even fucking happier? When I said I can ask Andi to write to you, inviting you down, you asked me if I could be there too. (Why you asked, I actually have no idea, but it made me so fucking happy.) I have a feeling you didn’t want to be there alone, but you didn’t want to take Parkinson or Zabini, and I know Andi and Teddy already.       I didn’t tell you this earlier as well because I forgot, but Andi and Teddy are coming up to mine in a couple of days, so I’ll ask her then. She’ll definitely say yes, I know it. She’ll be so happy.       I’m gonna say this here, because you’ll never see these and I just need to tell someone this, but I didn’t want to leave Hogsmeade. I didn’t want to leave you. It was so nice just talking to you. Almost like we were friends. (I think I’d like to be friends with you. I think that would be good.) I made you laugh when I told you about Teddy. You have such a lovely laugh. I didn’t want to leave you. But Zabini and Parkinson wanted to get on shopping and they couldn’t leave you, and Ron and Hermione had to get back to the castle but they didn’t want to leave me. So I had to go. I hated that. I hated, hated, hated leaving you.       But whatever. I’ll see you again soon anyway, when you visit Andi and Teddy. You’ll love them, I know you will. It’s difficult to not love them.       Till the next one.      From H.P.

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4th October 1998Malfoy,      We’re going to ignore the fact that I’m writing this letter at 4am, okay? I just woke up from a dream. It was weird, and I need to write it down to get it out of me so I can go back to sleep because I’m fucking exhausted. (Hogsmeade took a lot out of me. That was the most socialising I’ve done in AGES! And no, Miriam and David’s party doesn’t really count. That was different.)       I dreamt of you. Me and you, really. We were in Hogsmeade and we were talking, but there were loads of people staring at us. Like, loads. We were in the middle of a big circle of people and they wouldn’t leave us alone. They were angry. Really angry. I think they were angry because I was talking to you, but I’m not sure.       They started fighting us. Firing spells and shouting and screaming and telling us that the war was all our fault and that we should die and burn for what we did. But then you got them all to stop and you stared at me and said it was my fault. Not yours, my fault. You stood there telling all these people that the war was all my fault and that no-one else should share the blame with me.       Everyone else agreed with you. They said you were right. You had done evil things, but I had done worse. They wanted you to kill me. Everyone was firing curses again, but only at me this time. They ignored you and just kept chanting ‘kill him’ over and over and over. You were joining in. Singing too.       I begged you not to but you didn’t listen to me. You listened to everyone else, all the people around me. You said it was all my fault and that I should die for what I did.       And then you killed me.      And then I woke up.      I was nearly sick, but I wasn’t, luckily. I don’t think Kreacher would be happy if I had been sick on the nice carpet. He always gets fussy when shit isn’t clean.       I don’t know why that was the dream that my mind decided to play out for me. You killing me and saying that everything was my fault. Cuz like, I know everything is my fault. You don’t know how much I’m aware of how everything that happened is my fucking fault. I knew that, I know that. I’ve accepted that it’s all my fault. But I didn’t need you, standing in front of me, shouting at me in my face that everything is my fault.       I really hope you don’t think it’s all my fault. Like, I know I have accepted that it’s all my fault, but for some reason, when people who are important to me start saying it’s all my fault, that hurts a lot. Because that means they’re angry at me and they don’t want to see me anymore and they hate me for everything that happens. (Ignoring the fact that they should hate me, y’know, cuz it is all my fault.)      I don’t know how to explain it. I guess it being 4am isn’t helping, but who gives a shit. I just don’t understand. Y’know?       Everything is my fault. I know that. But I don’t want my friends telling me that. I don’t want them to be angry at me. Or maybe I do, because then I can get angry back at them and work off some of the trauma inside me. (Helen says that’s not how it works but I don’t give a shit.)       I really, really hope you don’t think it’s all my fault. I think I’d like to be friends with you. If that’s even possible anymore. We’ve been through so much together. We have quite a history. But like, I’m lonely, and I feel like Ron and Hermione don’t understand me as much as they used to. I feel like you might understand me. But you also might not, and that’s okay. I just want to try being friends with you. Maybe we can start over when you come up to Andi’s to meet her and Teddy. That would be nice. That would be really nice.       I’m going to sleep now. I’m fucking exhausted. I just needed to get this off my chest. (Helen would be proud. I’m gonna tell her this when I next see her. That I wrote a letter instead of cutting my wrists open.)      Till the next one.      From H.P.

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7th October 1998Malfoy,      Andi and Teddy came over today. To my house, I mean. In Godric’s Hollow. Kreacher was panicking because he didn’t think the house was presentable enough for me to have guests so he made me help him clean the entire place from top to bottom yesterday to get ready for Andi and Teddy. I personally think it was a bit overkill but the house actually looks really nice when it’s clean. I don’t think it’s been this clean since I rebuilt it when I decided to live here. (Kreacher tries his best but I get that it’s hard to keep a clean house when he has someone like me living in it.)      Teddy can say my name now! (Sort of.) Like, it’s baby mumble, but I can tell it’s my name, because he says it when he looks at me and then he holds his arms out and demands to be held. (I always give in. He deserves to be held. He’s so cuddly.)      I also told Andi about you agreeing to visit and she was over the moon. She genuinely was really, really happy. I’ll write you a real letter in a minute to tell her where and when to go and I’ll meet you outside the house, but I needed to get it out here too. Cuz in the other letter, it will probably just be ‘Malfoy, Andi says you’re very welcome to visit her and Teddy and understands why you would want me to be there as well. This is her address, I’ll meet you at the house at whatever time and day we agree. Signed H.P.’ And that’s boring as shit. I need to get my emotions out properly.       I would send you something like this, but this shit is way too personal and although I want to be friends with you (I think) I don’t want you to see this mess. This is the side of me I keep hidden away. Well, I know I pretty much keep all of me hidden away, but this me is messy. He’s depressed, traumatised, an insomniac, vaguely suicidal, cuts himself, is a boarderline alcoholic and probably has an eating disorder at this point. He has nightmares every night, he barely leaves his house, he barely sees anyone, and he’s losing contact with his closest friends.       He’s a mess.      I’m a mess. I don’t want anyone to see this mess. Not now, not ever. Well, apart from Helen, but she’s there to help me deal with the mess I’ve become. She’s supposed to see this side of me. But no-one else is. This is a secret that stays between me, Helen, and you. (The you I write these letters to, obviously.) Well, of course Kreacher and Casper know too.       Oh my gosh, Casper! Teddy absolutely adores Casper. Not as much as he loves me, of course, but he fell in love with Casper. I think Andi was a little bit worried about Teddy and Casper, but I told her that Casper is a big softie and he would never hurt anyone.       Andi is genuinely really excited to meet you, Malfoy. She’s happy, because she sees it as the first step to reuniting with her family. It’s just her and Teddy, now that Ted’s dead. She’s lonely. Sure, they have me, but I’m a fucking mess. She needs her sister.      Also, I’m sort of excited to spend time with you at Andi’s too. Maybe we can start over. Try and be friends, y’know? That would be nice. I’d really, really like that. Because I get lonely too. I mean, I know I like being on my own, but being back at Hogsmeade with the others, I hadn’t realised how much I missed that. I spent so many years alone as a child, then I was surrounded by love at Hogwarts and at the Burrow, and now I’m alone again. Kreacher and Casper keep me company, and I do love them, but I miss it. I miss the love.      Sure, I love being on my own, I like my own company, I like my solitude. But I miss it. The hustle and bustle of people around me, never a silent moment in the house, big family dinners, sleeping in Ron’s room and talking to him late into the night. It’s overwhelming for me now, but I miss it. I want it back. I want my fucking life back but I’m too much of a mess to even begin to try and get it back.       I’m lonely, Malfoy. So lonely. And I hate what I’ve become. This depressed guy who sits alone in his house all day, barely able to drag himself out of bed or eat a fucking meal. It’s disgusting, but I can’t break out of it. I’m trying, I promise I’m trying. It’s just so, so hard. Something has changed. Something big and I don’t know what it is, because it used to not be like this, but now it seems to be getting worse by the day.       And I hate to say it, but I haven’t got a fucking clue what to do about it.      Till the next one.      From H.P.

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15th October 1998Malfoy,      Three days ago, I nearly killed myself. Spoiler alert, it didn’t work. Unfortunately. I wish it had worked. I hurt so much. Everywhere. My head, my legs, my arms most of all. I’m kind of surprised I can write this letter without my wounds reopening and covering this letter in blood. Kreacher did a good job healing me, I guess.       I’d had a load of bad days in a row, basically. Everything was getting to me. It really started after Andi and Teddy left when I wrote you the last letter. You remember I talked about being lonely? That was getting to me a lot. I couldn’t stop thinking about it, because I am lonely. Really lonely. Maybe that’s the big thing that’s changed to start making everything worse. My loneliness. Though I doubt it. I’ve been lonely for a very long time, why would it make me want to kill myself now? Bit stupid.       Anyway, all these bad days kept happening. Like, they didn’t stop. Every morning would be the same. I’d lie in bed, thinking over the horrific nightmare I’d had, then I’d roll over and stare at the wall until Casper or Kreacher forced me out of bed. (Neither of them like it when I stay in bed, apparently.) Then I’d just move to the sofa and I’d stay there all day, staring at the floor or the wall or the TV, if Kreacher put it on. Looking, but not really seeing. Y’know? Dissociating, is what Helen calls it.       I didn’t eat, I didn’t sleep, I didn’t talk. I really upset Kreacher when I accidentally broke a glass and tried to use a piece to slice open my wrist. (He got the glass out of the way in time.) He was so upset. He cried. Properly cried. I don’t think I’ve ever seen Kreacher cry. It made me feel awful. Really, really awful. I tried to explain it to him, but I was a mess and he was a mess and it just went so wrong.       Everything is going wrong. All of it. It was all just choosing the wrong fucking path and heading down the wrong route and making my life fucking awful. Sure, it’s my own fucking fault, I know that. I’m well aware of how it’s all my own fault so don’t you sit there, frowning at me with your infuriating Malfoy frown telling me how all of this I have brought on to myself because I already fucking know that, okay??? I KNOW THAT! I FUCKING KNOW IT’S ALL MY FUCKING FAULT SO JUST FUCK OFF, MALFOY. FUCK OFF.       Sorry. It’s just wrong. It’s bad. All of it. Everything.       Kreacher forced me to go to my session with Helen three days ago. He apparated me there and waited for me to be done. It was a bad session. I didn’t exactly speak, and when Helen tried to prod, I just screamed at her and stormed out. (Cue several letters from her being very worried about me. Kreacher already told her what happened, apparently, but I’m going to write to her when I’m done with this letter.)       We got home and I locked myself in my bathroom. I found my razor blade. (Diffindo doesn’t really do the job properly. Not like a muggle razor blade.)      Human skin is so fucking fragile. I don’t think anyone ever really thinks about that, but I do. A lot. I’m well aware of how fragile human skin is. Do you know how damn easy it is just to slice and cut and bleed?       It hurt. It hurt a lot. But that was good, because I needed to feel something. I was numb, I was sad, I was depressed, I was angry. I needed to feel something else. The pain was good. It was grounding. It was reassuring to see the blood and the cuts. See? I can bleed. I can get hurt, I can do things. I’m human. I’m not the untouchable god that The Prophet thinks I am. I bleed. I bleed a lot. I like how much I bleed. It looked so pretty. All the red, red blood against the white, white bathroom tiles. So, so pretty.       The cutting was good. I did it a lot. Like a lot. I would show you, but I can’t exactly do that through these letters. Plus, I think it would scare you when you see the aftermath of it. (It’s bad. It’s so, so bad.) My arms, they hurt. Like a lot. But the hurt is a good thing, remember? The hurt means I’m human. That I’m alive. (Though that is a bad thing. A very, very bad thing. I shouldn’t be alive, Malfoy.)      I passed out in the bathroom because of all the blood. I’d lost so much of it, Kreacher said. Almost too much. He said if I had cut any deeper on my wrists then I definitely would be dead. (I think he regretted telling me that.)       He said he had to break down the bathroom door because I wouldn’t answer when he knocked. He said he panicked and he cast nearly every damn healing spell under the sun at me and my arms. He didn’t want me to die. He said he needed me to live, he needed me to stay with him. He wanted me to stay alive. He said I can’t die. Not yet. Not while I’m so young. According to him, I have so much life left to live. I can’t throw it away just because it’s hard right now. (It is hard. So hard. I’m drowning, Malfoy.)      I wouldn’t wake up, he said. He brought me to my bed and fed me blood replenishing potions and water and he fucking liquidised food just to keep me nourished while I was out. (I was out for two days.) Kreacher said he was terrified. He slept by me at night and barely left me in the day. He couldn’t leave me alone, he was so scared that if he turned his back, I would give up and die right there on my bed. He didn’t want me to die. Casper too. Casper didn’t leave. Not once.      I know you’re probably wondering why he didn’t just take me to St. Mungo’s if he was so worried I was going to die, but he couldn’t leave me. He would be forced to leave me at Mungo’s. And I know you probably think that’s fucking stupid, but it’s not. He also doesn’t trust the healers to look after me properly, and I also didn’t want anyone to see me like this. If he had taken me to Mungo’s, it would not be a private matter. Someone would’ve gotten a photo and sent it to The Prophet, then they’d paint me as some unhinged and unstable traumatised man. ‘The Boy Who Lived… To Die? Harry Potter, our world’s saviour, tried to kill himself. He was seen being rushed into St. Mungo’s hospital by his house elf, covered in blood and still bleeding. Will he make it through the night? By the looks of him, probably not.’       FUCKING BOLLOCKS.       I hate the press.      So we stayed here. Kreacher knows how to deal with this kind of stuff anyway. He’s been living with me since the end of the war, this isn’t his first rodeo. Besides, he said he learnt healing in order to heal Regulus after he had been beaten by his parents. So he’s done this before me. With Regulus. Probably with Sirius too, even if he did hate Sirius’ guts.      Kreacher knows how to look after me. He knows me back to front and inside out by this point. He knows what’s going on and he helps. He tries his best to help me and to stop me from going too far, even if sometimes he can’t help me.      Fuck, I feel awful about this. His reaction when I woke up. Fuck me, Malfoy, it broke me in two. His eyes were all red and puffy as if he’d been crying the whole time I was out. He was shaky and anxious and as soon as he saw my eyes were open, he threw himself at me and he fucking hugged me. He started crying again and told me how I should never ever, never ever do that to him again and that I should stay alive because life is worth living even if it seems hard right now and that I have so much left to live for and I shouldn’t just die. Because dying is the easy way out.       He was heartbroken, he said. He was so, so worried about me. I don’t think he looked after himself properly while I was out. He just stayed by my bed, waiting for me to wake up.       I’m a truly fucked up person. There’s something fundamentally wrong with me. Helen thinks it’s all down to the childhood abuse and neglect and I think I agree with her. She said that if a child doesn’t get proper love and care win their early years, then they never really develop properly and end up proper fucked up if they don’t get the right help later on in life. (Oh.)      I’m trying to get the right help. I have her, I have Kreacher, I have Casper, I have Andi and Teddy and my friends and these letters to you. I have people. There’s just something wrong with me. Really, really wrong.       I’m traumatised, depressed and suicidal. Shit, Malfoy, nothing is looking up for me, is it? May as well just kill myself.       Except I can’t do that. I can’t do that to everyone around me. Kreacher wouldn’t cope with the grief. I can’t hurt him. I can’t hurt anyone. I can’t do this.      Except I’m hurting. I’m hurting so fucking much and I don’t know what to do about it. I need help, Malfoy. I need someone to be there for me all the time, I think. Someone who will hold me and clean me up and hold me and tell me it will be okay and hold me and and hold me and I just fucking want to be held. I want someone to hold me and tell me that in the end, it will be okay and that in the end, after I get over this insanely difficult part of my life, there will be so much beauty and love. I need someone to tell me what is waiting for me. If my future is filled with love and care and a family and friends and peace.       Peace. I miss peace. I miss a quiet mind and a quiet life. Not that I’ve ever had a quiet life, exactly. I want peace. I want peace of mind. I want to be held. I want to be loved.       Realistically though, I don’t think I ever am going to be loved. No matter what Charlie says, I will never be loved. Not in the way I want to be loved. I’m fucked up. I’m so, so fucked up, beyond anything you can imagine. I don’t love myself. Who’s going to love me? Who the fuck in their right fucking mind would ever love me? No-one will fall in love with me. Not like this. Not when I’m so unstable I almost kill myself in my own fucking bathroom.       I need to get better. I know I need to. I can’t keep going like this, because if this doesn’t stop then I will probably end up killing myself for real, and that’s not good. It’s just hard, Malfoy. It’s so, so fucking hard. If I can barely drag myself out of bed in the morning, how can I start getting better? Especially if I don’t even get myself out of bed, my house elf forces me out of bed. It’s all Kreacher. If it weren’t for him then I definitely would be dead. I know that for certain.       It’s bad. It’s really bad, and I don’t know what to do about it. I’m struggling so much I’m drowning. Really drowning. Inside my own fucking head. My memories, my nightmares, all of it. I can’t cope with it, I can’t keep going. It’s all just a bit too much for me and I have no fucking clue how to get better. How does anyone get better from this point? I’m at my lowest low point ever and the upward climb to getting better is too daunting.       Maybe I’ll just stay down here. Down, down, down. It’s so hard. It’s so, so hard.       I would apologise for this letter being so long, but I won’t. You’re not going to see it, and I can write however much I fucking want. It’s MY letter and it’s MY coping mechanism.       I should’ve written a letter three days ago, shouldn’t I? Maybe then all this could’ve been avoided. But I was so angry, Malfoy. I was so, so angry, I couldn’t think properly. I needed to clear my head, I needed to make myself see, and the pain helps. The pain is good. I like the pain. Letters don’t have the same effect as the pain. The pain is good.       I’m going to go now. Kreacher is here. He’s worried because I’ve been in my room for too long. He wants me to come and sit in the sitting room because it’s lighter in there and he can put on the TV for us and make us a cup of tea. (It took so long to explain muggle TVs to him, but he got it in the end and now he loves them.) I’ll write to Helen now. In the sitting room, where it’s lighter and I can watch TV with a cup of tea.       I promise I’m going to try. I’ll try. Y’know, to get better. I will. It’s just hard. And hopefully the next few days won’t be as bad as the last few. I need a break from all this depression. It’s too much for me. I’m one guy. I’m 18. Everything is too much for me. I’m overwhelmed. I’m drowning. It’s not good, Malfoy. It’s really not good.      Till the next one.      From H.P.

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16th October 1998Malfoy,      Immediately after the war, I was fine. (I wasn’t really, looking back on it, but I thought I was at the time.) I didn’t feel affected at all by what happened. I was still Harry Potter, with my best friends Ron Weasley and Hermione Granger, and I had just killed Voldemort. Everything was fucking brilliant. (Note the sarcasm there.)       I mean, I hated the attention. Really, really fucking hated it, but other than that, I was fine, really. Everything was fine.       Molly insisted that I stay in the Burrow for a couple of weeks straight after the battle, but I didn’t. I lived in Grimmauld Place, the Black’s house in London, and went to every single fucking funeral that was held for those who died in the battle. Remus, Tonks, Colin, Lavender, Fred, Crabbe. (Yes, I went to Crabbe’s funeral. I saw you there. It was heartbreaking, really.) All of them. Hermione and Ron thought I was bonkers but I knew I had to go to every single one because the battle was my fault in the first place. It was my fault that all of this happened and that they lost their lives, so of course I had to pay my respects at their funerals. They died because of me. Well, I know Crabbe died because of his own stupidity in casting that fiendfyre, but he was fighting me, Ron and Hermione, so y’know. Technicalities. I couldn’t not go to his funeral.       I don’t think it was a mistake to go to all those funerals. It was a good use of time, even if I hated being in my robes in that May heat. God it was hot sometimes. But I still went. I had to. And I’m glad I did, actually. I kind of felt some peace after I’d been to each funeral. Y’know, I’d paid my respects, I’d taken responsibility, I’d apologised to every single dead person at their funeral. After that was done, I felt a tiny bit of peace in my mind. I’d accepted it was all my fault that they had died, so going to their funerals was the only logical thing to do, but it was also respectful, and kind, and worth it. I had to let them know that I knew it was my fault and that I was sorry for them dying and that if I had the chance, yes I would swap places with them. (Another big thing pointing to me being severely fucked up after the war, even if no-one was able to spot it.)      Then, when all the funerals were done, there were the Death Eater trials. Yes, again, I testified at every single fucking trial. Admittedly, I didn’t recognise a few of the names, but I knew which Death Eaters deserved Azkaban and which didn’t. Unsurprisingly, it was only you who didn’t deserve Azkaban. (Your mum doesn’t count in this, because she wasn’t actually a Death Eater, even though she was tried as one.)       Speaking at your trial I think was really important for me. Your mum’s trial and your dad’s as well. I mean, sure, your dad has never, ever been kind to me, but you and your mum were. (Ish.) You refused to identify me in your house when I was on the run and your mum lied to Voldemort to keep me alive. That’s good shit. Good people shit. Even if it was a small thing, both things helped me and my friends to win the war. So I had to prove to the world that, inherently, the Malfoy’s weren’t bad people. (Apart from your dad. He is a wanker.)       Like, your mum never actually did anything bad. Realistically. Her house was, unwillingly, used as a HQ for Voldemort and his Death Eaters, and you were forced into doing everything you did. You were, at most, an annoying thorn in my side. That was about it. I didn’t hate you. Not really. And I had to show the world that. You and your mum didn’t deserve Azkaban. Not in the slightest.      Anyway, the trials ended, and then there were the events. The memorials and the ceremonies and the parties. I fucking hate Kingsley for handing me an Order of Merlin, First Class at one of those ceremonies. I actually told him I would curse him into the next millennia for doing that to me. I didn’t want the attention anymore. (The medal is on my mantelpiece, simply because Kreacher refuses to let it rot in a draw. He says I deserve it, therefore I need to display it. I called bullshit, but Kreacher appears to rule this house.)       I went to as many of those events as I could, but obviously there were a few I missed. (Mostly the parties. I fucking hated the parties. Evil things.) Each was as bad as the other. It was slightly more bearable when Ron or Hermione was there with me, because I could hide with them, but that still didn’t stop important people coming up to us and shaking our hands and talking to us. It was awful. The amount of job offers I got at those events was insane. (Especially from Kingsley. He couldn’t accept that I didn’t want to be an auror anymore and would talk to me about it at every fucking chance he could. He didn’t get the message.)       Once all of those were over, I hit my tipping point. I snapped. It was after some formal event in London and Hermione, Ron and I went out to a muggle bar afterwards to get pissed because we all deserved it. I think it was the alcohol, but I got so lost in my thoughts. I was thinking about the war and about everything I’d lost and everything I’d gone through. Ron took me back to his house for the night. He said he didn’t think it was a good idea for me to be on my own.       God, I was just lying in bed, thinking. For the first time since the end of the war, I just stopped and thought and it was heartbreaking. Ron came into the room and asked if I was okay and I just started crying. I can’t remember much of that night, but there was a lot of crying. And shouting and screaming. I think me, Ron and Hermione all ended up in the same bed, holding each other and crying, and I think that was when I realised that no, I was not fine and I had not been fine for a very, very, very long time.       That next morning, I left the Burrow and I decided I couldn’t stay there. Not in London where I was surrounded by people and reminders of everything that happened. It was too much. So, I packed up Grimmauld Place and went to Gringotts to sort out deeds and shit for my parent’s house in Godric’s Hollow. They contracted some blokes to help me out, and we got the house rebuilt within the day. Some curse breaker people came to remove any and all dark magic from the area and then we knocked up the house. It was hard work, but it was a nice distraction. Then Kreacher helped me furnish the house and I slept in that house once again for the first time in a very long time.       And then it really hit.       I was alone and I was not fine. I was far from fine. I was a fucking mess.       I didn’t get out of bed for a week. Kreacher had to force feed me shit so that I wouldn’t die, but I made it bloody difficult for him. I really wanted to die back then as well, so I put up as hard a fight as I could. (Which, admittedly, wasn’t much. I was so weak and Kreacher was determined to not let me rot in bed.)       At the start of the second week, he got Ron and Hermione in, and they bodily dragged me out of bed, forced me to shower and change my clothes and eat and then they dragged me to a mind healer’s office. Helen’s office. It was the closest one to Godric’s Hollow. I point blank refused to go to anyone recommended by St. Mungo’s or the ministry. Helen was a private mind healer. She had a small business, so she was perfect. (She took one look at me and demanded twice weekly sessions because we had a fucking lot to unpack.)       And then I found I liked it at Godric’s Hollow. Ron and Hermione visited me every week, Luna came up a few times, occasionally with Neville, Seamus and Dean even visited once. It was nice. Until the end of June, when I had a massive breakdown, nearly killed myself, and pretty much cut contact with everyone. I upset a lot of people with that. So many thought I was dead, until Helen pretty much forced me to write to them all and tell them I was alive but I needed my space to start healing from everything that had happened to me and I couldn’t heal if they were all up in my face, trying to take up all my time and remind me of the war. (None of them spoke about it, but their faces reminded me of the war. Y’know?)      Loads of them were still very upset with me for asking for my space. I think they were all so scared that I actually would kill myself (which is really starting to look like a wonderful activity) so they didn’t want to leave me alone. They didn’t want me to die. But it was just overwhelming.       But they respected my wishes, only asking for a letter once a week, which I could do. (With Kreacher and Helen’s help.)      I think all that repressing my feelings after the war (even if I didn’t realise I was doing it at the time) has helped make this time period a lot worse. I think if I had just gone straight to a mind healer and helped myself, I wouldn’t be so bad right now. If I hadn’t testified at all those trials, or attended all those funerals, ceremonies and memorials. But because I pushed myself beyond my breaking point, I’m so much worse now. (I am. I’m so, so much worse. I’m struggling. I’m drowning. I’m dying.)      I can’t do this anymore, Malfoy. I don’t want to live like this anymore. I want peace. I want to be okay. I want to be loved properly. I don’t want to be alone anymore. I can’t do this. I really, really can’t.      Till the next one.      From H.P.

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18th October 1998Malfoy,      Or should I say Draco? That’s what you asked me to call you today, when I met you by Andi’s house. You asked me if we could start over, and you asked me to call you ‘Draco’ and not ‘Malfoy.’ You wanted us to start again. Me as Harry, you as Draco. As friends. New friends. All that amnostity, you wanted left behind. (Which is good. I want it left behind as well.)        I’m gonna be honest though, I don’t think I can call you Draco in these letters. Because if I call you Draco here, then I think it will get too personal. Like I’m writing to you. When I’m not really writing to you. I’m writing to myself, and just using your name as a filler to show that these are let’s and not mindless journal entries.       Maybe I can just say D.M at the beginning. Like how I sign off as H.P. That would be okay, right? It’s not too personal, but not too distant either. Because we’re not distant anymore. Not if we’re going to be spending a lot of time together seeing Teddy and Andi.      Oh, that was what really pissed me off today. That you had a fucking auror escort and he would only leave you alone if I was with you. I saw that it upset you as well. Y’know, how to visit Andi, you have to have either me or an auror present. Bullshit. Absolute bullshit. You don’t need supervision to visit your damn family. It’s not as if you’re going to fucking murder them. I swear I’m going to storm down to Kingsley and tell him to shove his damn restrictions up his arse.       Anyway, once the auror had buggered off, I actually had a really nice day. Like, I was nervous cuz I didn’t know what you would be like and how you would react to Andi and Teddy and me and all of that, but it was genuinely such a nice day. Andi adored you, Teddy fell in love with you, and you and I decided to be friends. How can that end up as a bad day? (I’ll tell you exactly how in a moment.)       I don’t think I’ve had a day like this before. As in, where I was so happy with you and your family. Because I was. So happy, that is. To see you so relaxed and happy with your family and to see Teddy so happy and Andi so happy and we were all so happy it was amazing. And I’m glad it’s going to happen again. You, me, Andi and Teddy. (Even if you refuse to call him Teddy. “His name is Edward” fuck off you posh prick.)       I am sorry though, that you can’t be alone and that I have to be in the house with you. (I know the auror said in the same room but he can suck my dick. If you want time with your family without me then I can sit in another room. I can sit in the kitchen with a book. It’s fine.) I hate the restrictions they’ve put on you. There’s no reason you have to have an auror following you around. You were proven innocent, they just want you under their thumb, in their eye line, so they can always watch you. Bollocks. Absolute bollocks. I hate it.       But it was a good day, wasn’t it? It was nice. Andi loved you, Teddy adored you, and you and I became friends. That’s the definition of a good day. And it was a good day. Until it wasn’t.       See, when we came out and that auror was waiting for you, he didn’t say anything and he just took you away. Back to Hogwarts. Leaving me alone, on the steps of Andi’s house.       So I apparated home. Back to my cold, empty and silent home. You got to go back to Hogwarts, a comforting and warm place. Andi and Teddy got to stay in their warm home, full of love. Me? I was alone. In my house. With no-one but a house elf and a cat. Don’t get me wrong, I love my house elf and my cat, Kreacher and Casper are wonderful. But like, after spending all day with you and Andi and Teddy in a place so full of love, y’know, to go back to my cold and empty home was fucking depressing.       It was like all that happiness had left me the moment I stepped through the door. I sunk into myself. It doesn’t help that this particular house was supposed to be full of love and happiness and people. So to walk into it being so fucking empty just made me collapse pretty much. I got in and just went straight to bed. Casper came and curled up with me and Kreacher came and sat in my room, reading his book. It was cold. Empty. Too empty.       Kreacher forced me to get out of bed to eat. Hence why I’m actually able to write you this letter. I was so ready to stay in bed for the next seven weeks. (I won’t, cuz I know you want to see Andi again soon. So I promise I won’t.) But as soon as I’m done with this letter and Kreacher has allowed me to leave the kitchen table, I’m going back to bed. I’m not in the mood to be anywhere except from my bed. I like my bed. It’s warm and comforting and always there for me and it makes me feel safe. (Ish.)       I hate how I am now. I really do. It’s nothing like how I used to be. I’m fucked up, Malfoy. Draco. D.M. I’m properly fucked up. There is something majorly wrong with me and I have no idea how to fix it. Helen is trying to help, she really is. But I know I’m a difficult person to work with and I think there is so much wrong with me that even she can’t help fix me.       We’re trying to get me right again, but I’m so far wrong. I’m so lost in the wrong and I’m so far gone in the trauma. It’s not looking good for me, is it? It’s really not. And I have no idea how on earth we’re going to fix it. Fix me. It’s bad. It’s so bad.      Till the next one.      From H.P.

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21st October 1998Malfoy,      I’m not going to address these as D.M because that actually feels way too impersonal and I think it’s bullshit and I hate that I came up with it. Malfoy is your name. Draco is who I talk to when I see you with Andi and Teddy, and Malfoy is who I write my therapy letters to.       Anyway. That’s besides the point of this letter. I got a letter from McGonagall today. Which is weird, because she and I have nothing to do with each other anymore. She’s not my teacher, I’m not her student. We don’t see each other, we don’t speak to each other. We have nothing to do with each other. Not anymore. So why the fuck is she writing to me?       Well, apparently she’s worried about me, and even if I am an ex-student and she no longer sees me, she wants to know how I am doing and has said that her office is always open to me should I ever want to go up and see her and have a chat. Personally I think that’s strange because like, I’m not her student. I have nothing to do with her anymore. Sure, she was my head of house for six years, but y’know, we weren’t particularly close. She would worry about me, but there’s no major incident that stands out to me telling me that McGonagall was there for me.       She would always be on Dumbledore’s side, unless it was seriously wrong, then she was on my side, which wasn’t particularly often (because it seemed that nearly everyone had a hard on for Dumby and would do exactly what he said and would praise the fucking ground he walked on as if he was Jesus.) She wasn’t overly maternal, she didn’t pull me aside for anything extra, y’know. She was my teacher. My head of house. Nothing more, really. There was nothing special about me and her. (Aside from the whole Quidditch thing in first year, but that barely counts.)      I’ve written back to her to tell her that I’m doing fine (don’t say anything) and that I don’t particularly want to come up to Hogwarts anytime soon. I said something like I am getting help and I am not alone down here, but thanks for the offer. I am okay, and I am getting better, and I don’t need her support as I am no longer a Hogwarts student. (I know it sounds a bit brutal but like, it’s true. I don’t need her support. Nor do I want it, really. I have support.)      I know you’re probably thinking that I’m fucking stupid because it’s clear that I’m not doing fine and that I genuinely really need some serious help or I might not make it to the end of the year. But I don’t need McGonagall butting in on all of this. Okay? I have Helen to talk to, and I have Andi and Teddy (and you now) for company. And I have my neighbours (ish.) Miriam and David have said I’m welcome at their house whenever. But I don’t really want to just barge over. That’s rude. Maybe I will go and see them though. Another day. I can get Kreacher to help me bake something for them.       Well anyway. I don’t need any extra help from McGonagall. I don’t need it and I don’t want it, okay? I’m fine. (I mean, I’m really not, but she doesn’t need to know that. Because if she learns that I’m not fine, then she will demand that I come and see her so she can help me, and I really don’t want that.) I’m okay as I am. I have Helen and Andi and Teddy. I don’t need anyone else. (Apart from you. You’re a new friend though, so not quite on the same level as Andi and Teddy and Helen.)       I’ll be okay though, right? I have to be. I’m Harry Bleeding Potter. I have to be okay. For the sake of, well, everything. I guess. And myself, obviously. I don’t think I want to die, (maybe I kind of do but that’s besides the point) but if I keep going like this then I might, and that’s a fucking scary prospect. So I will be okay. In the end. I’m sure I will.       Till the next one.      From H.P.

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24th October 1998Malfoy,      Yesterday was awful. And when I say awful, I mean super mega fucking awful. It was bad. So, so bad.      I was lying on the sofa, barely able to move, staring at the wall. Kreacher had forced me out of bed so I just moved to the sofa and resumed my catatonic state, as he described it. (To be fair, I was pretty catatonic. Wouldn’t move, wouldn’t speak. Pretty shit.) I wasted almost all day lying on the sofa. Casper came and sat with me for a bit, but then he left. Probably to hunt. I don’t know. But that’s whatever. He’s a stray cat, technically. He could belong to someone else. What do I know?      Anyway, Kreacher came into the sitting room before tea and he was so angry, Malfoy. He was so upset. He made me sit up and then he stood back and shouted at me. Which upset me and made me cry. Not just because he was shouting at me (I can’t handle raised voices anymore. It’s fucking pathetic) but because of what he was shouting. What he was telling me.      He was basically telling me that he is an old elf and he has lived a long life and that there is not very much left of it. He’s going to die soon, and he’s accepted that, but he’s not accepted that once he is dead, I am going to be completely alone in my house. He won’t be there to get me out of bed or force me to eat or drag me to Helen’s office when I can’t get myself there. I will be alone, and I will die if I don’t change. If I don’t get better even a little bit, then I will die not long after he dies.       That scared me. A lot. I guess in my head, Kreacher is immortal. Kinda? Like, he was alive for a long time before Sirius was born, then looked after Sirius, lived in Grimmauld Place when no-one else was there, stayed in it with the Order there, and now lives with me and looks after me. He’s been alive for ages. So I guess it’s only logical that he dies soon. He’s an old elf. But if he dies, I die. That’s what he said. Because I haven’t been getting better. Because I’ve only been getting worse. And if Kreacher dies, then I will be completely alone. I will sink so far in on myself that I’ll just stop. And then I will die. And that’s not good. Dying isn’t good.      I yelled back at him to stop and to shut up but he ignored me and kept shouting at me how if I don’t make a change then I won’t live for long after he goes. So I said for him to stop saying he’s going to die soon because I can’t hear that and he ignored me and kept shouting because I have to accept that he’s going to die and that I will be alone.       I stormed out of the sitting room and locked myself in my bathroom. That terrified him, because the last time I locked myself in my bathroom, I nearly killed myself and he walked in on me surrounded by my own fucking blood. Except this time, I ignored my razor. It took every ounce of my strength (physical and mental) to ignore the razor, because Merlin it wasn’t half tempting to get that razor and slice my arms to ribbons again. (The other scars are still fresh. They’re red and bumpy and ugly. And they hurt like hell.)       But I ignored my razor and I ran a bath, because Helen suggested it to me once. To be completely honest, it’s been so long since I’ve had a proper wash. I usually just use Scourgify because having a bath or a shower takes so much effort that it’s not worth it because I get tired and I don’t see people so I don’t wash. Scourgify is fine. But I knew I wanted to cut myself in that moment, and I knew that would be a very bad idea, so instead I ran a bath. It was very hot, but I didn’t care. The scalding water was good, because it hurt and the pain was good. It made me forget. I went completely under the water and screamed and then I came up and I just lay in the tub, staring at the ceiling, thinking.       I sat there for so long. I vaguely washed myself with soap, because it was something to do instead of lying in the bath doing nothing like some pathetic, fucked up man. (Ignoring the fact that I am a pathetic, fucked up man.) It did feel good to finally get all that grime off me and when I got out (eventually) I felt so clean. But otherwise I just lay there in the water, thinking.       Kreacher is right. He is old and he will die soon, and that scares me, because he is right. I will die soon after him if I don’t make a big change in my life. If I don’t start getting better then I won’t make it. But see, it’s not as simple as just getting better. I can’t just get better. I’m traumatised. I’m depressed. You can’t just ‘fix’ that. Helen said that in the muggle world, people who are depressed go on antidepressants. She wanted to prescribe me Calming Draught and Dreamless Sleep, but I refused. I don’t want to become dependent on potions to make me okay, and she said that they can become addictive and then just ruin everything. And I don’t want that. I can’t have that. The withdrawal symptoms are awful, Helen said. I can’t take them.       So how the fuck do I start getting better? Helen wants me to stop being alone, but I can’t leave my house. I guess the solution then is to leave my house. HA! Not in this weather. It’s October. It’s England. It’s fucking shit weather. Kreacher always has the fire lit, so it’s warm inside. Why would I go outside when it’s cold and I have no-one to be with? Doesn’t make any sense, if you ask me.      Kreacher broke the bathroom door down eventually. Again. He was scared I had gone and killed myself. But I hadn’t. The bath water had gone cold and I was just lying there, staring at the wall. Pathetic. He helped me out and dried me off and helped me put on clean clothes and let me get back into bed. He had changed the sheets so everything was all fresh and clean. Me included. He sat next to me and he held my hand and he said he was sorry for shouting and sorry for what he said, but he’s not sorry that he said it because I need to know that if I keep going like this then I will die very soon after he dies.       His eyes were all red and puffy and his hands were shaking. He was scared, Malfoy. Really scared. He said he doesn’t want me to die, not so soon. I have so much life left to live, so I can’t just die now. I need to change and I need to kick myself up the arse and start improving my day to day life. Baby steps. Start eating breakfast again. Even if it’s just a banana and a cup of tea. Sit in the garden under a warming charm instead of in my bed or on the sofa. Baby steps.       I’m scared, Malfoy. Draco. I’m really scared. I don’t want Kreacher to die. I don’t want him to leave me because when he dies I won’t have anyone in the house with me. I’ll be all alone again. Completely on my own and everything will fall apart and  I can’t let that happen. But what do I do about it? I have no idea. Even the baby steps Kreacher has suggested sound daunting as fuck.       Maybe I should reach out to someone. One of my friends, maybe. But they’re all so busy with NEWTs. They’re not going to have any time for me. I don’t want to burden them with all of this. But Helen is right. Kreacher is right. I need someone here, in the house with me to just be with me. But who do I ask? And who on earth would want to live with me?      Fuck if I know. Everything’s upside down. Everything’s wrong. Everything’s falling down, down, down the drain. Just like me.      Till the next one.      From H.P.

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27th October 1998Malfoy,      Helen isn’t happy with me. She’s said I’m going backwards and that I’m not even trying to get better and that all I am doing is sitting in a catatonic state in a catatonic life surrounded by nightmares, an empty house and my trauma following me around everywhere I go. Not that I go to many places.       I can tell she’s fed up that I’m not helping myself. She’s said so many times that I need to help myself to get better, that I can’t just have her and Kreacher do all the work for me, because that doesn’t work. If I don’t help myself then I won’t get better. I told her what Kreacher said and she agreed. She fucking agrees that if Kreacher dies soon, I won’t be long after him because I can’t look after myself and I can’t do anything on my own. She said she’s tempted to hire a second worker to work with me except this person won’t just work with me, they will live in my fucking house with me.      ABSOLUTELY FUCKING NOT.      Yes, I shouted that at her. I know I need someone in the house with me, but I absolutely will not have a professional mind healer living with me 24/7. If I’m going to have someone live with me to be with me and be there to catch me, then I want someone I know. I want someone like George Weasley or Luna or Neville. Fucking hell, or even YOU. Someone I’m not close to, but also someone I’m not distant from. I know them, but not personally. And they’re not strangers. They’re friends. If someone has to live with me, it has to be someone I know. I fucking will not have some professional living in my house. I will change all the wards to block them all out.      I told Helen all of this and all she did was purse her lips (like McGonagall used to do) and said that she is willing to go to extreme measures to help me. I said I won’t give my consent and she then threatened to discharge me from her services. (I know now that it was an empty threat. She’s too worried about me and she cares about me too much to discharge me, but in the moment she was so angry and it felt so real.) She said I’m not co-operating, nor am I willing to help myself. She can’t help me if I’m not helping myself.        Yes, of course, I then broke down in tears. Normally, breaking down in front of someone would be mortally embarrassing and I would want the ground to swallow me whole. However, this is Helen we’re talking about and she has seen me at my worst points (ish. She hasn’t seen me in my bathroom in a pool of my own blood.) I’ve had so many breakdowns in her office that simply crying is barely anything.       I told her that I’m sorry, but it’s just so hard to even begin to try helping myself. How do I start helping myself when I can’t get out of bed in the morning? How can  I help myself when my trauma is my shadow? Not even my shadow, it’s a whole other person following me around, its grip on my mind so tight I can barely look at anything without my trauma pointing something out. I know I always say how alone I am, but I’m never truly alone. Not with all my trauma. It’s always there. I’ve grown used to it. So used to it that I think it would be wrong for it to all just disappear.       See, I think this is part of the main problem: I can no longer imagine myself being happy and living a ‘normal’ life. I can’t see myself living without my trauma. I can’t see myself falling in love, finishing my education, getting a real job, getting married, having kids, having parties with friends, going out, growing old, retiring. To me, all of that is an alien concept. And because it’s such an alien concept, because I can’t imagine myself with that kind of life, I don’t have any motivation to get better.       I’m not living for anything right now. I’m living because, well, that’s what’s expected of me, I guess. But I don’t have anything to work towards, I don’t have any motivation to keep living. I don’t have friends who I can go out and see. I don’t have family who I can visit. I haven’t fallen in love with anyone. It’s just me. Me and my house elf and my cat and my trauma.       Me and my mess. The mess I brought on myself and I now have no motivation to fix because everything is just too much effort now. Everything is just too much.       Helen has booked in an extra session with me on the 31st of October. I told her to expect me to not show up. I’m not going to therapy on the anniversary of my parents death. Fuck that. I told her I’d see her in a week. If I made it that far. So she said she was going to visit the house on the 1st of November if I didn’t turn up to hers on the 31st. Fine by me. I’ll block her out of my wards. (I can’t do that. That’s illegal. Which I didn’t even know until I threatened to do that and she said it’s illegal to block a primary health worker's access to their client’s homes.)      I think she’s been planning to do a home visit for a while now anyway. She’s so worried about me. I know she is. I can see it whenever I look at her. And I hate it. I hate when people worry about me. Even if Helen is supposed to. It’s literally her fucking job. But I don’t want her to. I want to get better so she doesn’t have to worry anymore, but I also just want to kill myself and be done with it all.       And right now, I’m not entirely sure which one sounds better.      Till the next one.      From H.P.

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31st October 1998Malfoy,      Seventeen years ago today, my parents were brutally murdered by Tom Riddle and my entire life was turned upside down.      I visited their grave. Casper came with me. Miriam saw me and waved at me and gave me some flowers to lay at the grave.      I came home. I lay in bed. I couldn’t move.      Nothing is right anymore. Nothing is the same. I don’t want this anymore, Malfoy. I don’t want to do this.       I can’t. Not anymore.      From H.P.

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3rd November 1998Malfoy,      Don’t worry, I didn’t kill myself. I’m not dead. I’m still alive. I mean, I nearly killed myself. I found where Kreacher had hidden all the alcohol, muggle and wizarding, and I drank my way through quite a lot of it. We got into an argument and we were both shouting so loud and I smashed a bottle of vodka and sliced my wrists open in front of him. He was too slow to stop me. And then I passed out.       When I woke up (yesterday morning) he told me that he nearly took me to Mungo’s. He was absolutely terrified. He was so scared he nearly broke his own rule and he nearly took me out of my house and to St. Mungo’s to get fixed. Except they’d only fix the physical problems. They’d then try and force a mind healer on me and they probably wouldn’t let me go until they had done that. Or they’d commit me to Janus Thicky or some mental institution because I’m clearly so fucked up I’m a danger to myself and the people around me. (Not that there are many people around me.)       He said that Helen had come over on the 1st because I didn’t turn up to her extra session on the 31st. Apparently the two of them got into a fighting match because Helen saw the state I was in and after she had got her answers out of Kreacher as to why exactly I was in that position, she wanted to take me straight to Mungo’s. But of course, Kreacher was having none of it. Even though he sort of wanted to as well. Helen was ready to fucking commit me or something but Kreacher wouldn’t let her and said that I had to stay here and that if I left everything would get so much worse. He knew that I wouldn’t cooperate with the St. Mungo’s healers and that I would lie there refusing all treatment which would be good for no-one. Besides. Kreacher knows how to look after me. I’m just fine with Kreacher. (Ish.)       From what Kreacher said as well, Helen wouldn’t leave. Or at least, she stayed for a long time. She helped clean the house again. (I made a mess on the 31st.) Kreacher said she saw all the bottles and the smashed vodka bottle and the blood. He hadn’t been able to clean it up that night because he was looking after me. So Helen helped him clean it all up and sort it out while I slept. ‘Slept.’ I don’t feel like I’ve slept. I feel like I’ve been hit by seven trains and then repeatedly run over by a bus. (I feel like shit.)       It sounded like Helen didn’t want to leave. If she couldn’t take me to Mungo’s, she wanted to stay with me. But Kreacher (thank God for him) refused to let her stay and demanded she leave so that he could help me because he would get nothing done with her hovering. So she left and I stayed passed out in bed from the sheer amount of alcohol I had drunk and the blood I lost. (It was a scary night.)       I have a session with Helen in ten minutes, actually. Don’t worry, I will go to this one. I have to. I need to. Plus, if I don’t, I know Helen will storm around here and I know Kreacher will get cross (and probably force me to go) so I’m going to go. I’m just scared at what she will say to me. She saw the mess, Malfoy. She’s never seen the mess. The home mess. The real mess. Fuck knows what she’s going to say to me when I turn up. I’m actually properly scared to see her about this. I don’t want to talk to her about it. I don’t want to talk to anyone about it. It happened and now I want to bury it in the past and forget it even happened. Which is a lot easier said than done. Especially when I have such physical reminders of that night.       God, I’m in so much fucking pain right now. My head, my stomach, my throat, my wrists. Kreacher fixed me up good for my wrists to not split open again and drench this letter in blood. I’ve never cut with glass before. I didn’t realise how effective it was. It went so deep and so easily. I barely had to do any work. I mean sure, it hurt like a bitch, but it was good. It was so good. Maybe I’ll have to think about using glass again when I need to.      Except that’s not going to happen is it? Kreacher will watch me like a fucking hawk and I bet he will be there supervising me every time I need to have a glass of water. He’s scared I’ll do it again. To be fair, he has every right to be. Scared, that is. I know I terrified him. I didn’t mean to. It all just sort of happened. I had no control. (Well, technically I did, but I was drunk out of my mind so I don’t really think I had any control over what was happening.)       Fuck, I also missed your next visit to Andi and Teddy. I forgot. I know you’d written to me to ask if I could go with you so the auror didn’t have to. But fuck’s sake, it was All Hallow’s Eve. There was no way I was going to be leaving my house.       Well. I probably should’ve. Maybe being around you and Andi and Teddy would’ve been good for me. Except I didn’t want to upset you all by being moody and sad. It was for the best that I forgot about your letter. Definitely. I’ll write to you (the real you. Draco) when I get back from Helen. I’ll say some shit like I’m sorry I couldn’t make it, I’ll come next time, just give me some warning. Simple bullshit, y‘know? That way you aren’t all up in my business and you, Andi and Teddy aren’t worried about me.       Except I think Andi and Teddy are worried about me. Or at least, Andi is. I have a letter from her waiting for me on the kitchen table. I’ll read that later. After Helen. After writing to Draco. She’s probably wondering why she hasn’t heard from me recently. She’ll be worried.       But that’s whatever. Everyone’s worried about me recently. I swear to God, at this rate I’ll get a letter from you telling me that you’re worried about me. Which is complete bullshit. If I do get a letter from you, then I know everything is really, really badly wrong. So I better not get a letter from you. Do you hear me Draco? No letters expressing your concern. Because everything isn’t really, really badly wrong. Everything is bad, but it’s not BAD. I’m okay. I am. I swear. (I’m not. I’m really not. But that’s besides the point. Well, it’s not, but I can’t get into that. Not when I’m supposed to be at Helen’s in seven minutes.)       I don’t want to go to Helen’s. I have to, but I don’t want to. I wish I had someone to go with me. Hold my hand, kind of thing. And no, I don’t care how fucking pathetic that sounds. Do you know how long it’s been since someone has held my hand or given me a hug? I just want the support. Physical support. Holding someone’s hand is like an anchor, almost. I just need that, right now. Someone to hold my hand. Yes, it’s pathetic, but it’s true. And I’m allowed to sound pathetic in these letters. Okay? These are my letters, my coping mechanism. I can be as pathetic as I need to be in these. So fuck off. Okay?      Kreacher has just come in. Apparently I need to leave now to go to Helen’s. So. I’m going now.       I’ll be okay. Right? I will. In the end. When I get past all this. If I get past all of this. If I end up with someone who wants to be there to hold my hand. I need to have someone to hold my hand.       And yes, I will write to you and Andi. After Helen. Who I have a feeling will be very gruelling today. I’m not looking forward to this.      Till the next one.      From H.P.

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8th November 1998Malfoy,      You know when the days just start to sort of blend together and all become one big blur where you’re barely able to distinguish one day from the next?      Yeah. That’s what’s happening to me now. Again. All the days are one big block of time, speeding away from me, leaving me far, far behind. They’re barely separated from each other, only by me lying in bed, then moving to the sofa when Kreacher demands I do.      I’m barely sleeping as well. Not anymore. And the sleep I do get is filled with nightmares. So I’ve pretty much just turned into a zombie at this point. Kreacher says I look like shit. I don’t look in the mirror anymore. I’m too scared to see what I look like. Kreacher has taken down all the mirrors in the house anyway. He’s too scared that I’ll smash them and use them to cut myself. Which is fair enough.      Apparently, the bags under my eyes are huge, my hair is a mess, my cheekbones are standing out, and I look sunken and skinny. Helen says I look depressed. Fair though, because I am depressed. My clothes hang off me again. It’s like I’ve got Dudley’s hand me downs once more. Cuz I don’t eat. Cuz I’m so skinny and sunken and depressed.       I’m a fucking mess.      Ugh, these letters are going to make me sound like a broken fucking record. ‘I’m a mess, I’m depressed, I’m messed up, I’m fucked up and traumatised, I can’t do this anymore.’ Sorry about that. It’s not my fault. (Well, I guess it is my fault.) I just need to get it all off my chest and these letters are my way of doing that because I need it and I need to get it out of my head and yes, it will all sound the same because I am a mess and I am depressed and I don’t know what to do about it.      And I’m scared.      I’m really scared.       I need help, Malfoy. But I don’t know who to reach out to for help. I have Helen, but she’s not enough. I have Kreacher, but bless his heart, he’s not enough. I need someone in my house. I need someone to hold my hand when I wake up from a nightmare, and to hold me close and tell me that it will all be okay in the end. But fuck me, I have no idea who to ask. And I don’t know what to do anymore, Malfoy.      I really haven’t got a clue.      Till the next one.      From H.P.

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9th November 1998Malfoy,      I miss people. I’ve realised this now. After so many days on my own, I realise I miss being around people. Like, the Great Hall, or the Gryffindor common room, or the Quidditch pitch, or lessons, or the dorm. All of that. I was surrounded by people all the time. But now I’m all on my own.      Don’t get me wrong, I like being on my own. I like being alone and I like being by myself in my house, just me, Kreacher and Casper. And I know I now get easily overwhelmed by being around people and want to cry, but I can fix that. Right?       I hope I can. Because I really miss the atmosphere of the Great Hall and the Gryffindor common room. I miss it so much. I miss Neville and Ron and Hermione and Ginny and Luna and Seamus and Dean. I miss being with them. Being around them. I miss them so much.       But they’re all busy with Hogwarts. With their NEWTs. They have no time for me, their depressed friend who decided to quit his education and hide away in his parents’ old house.       And that’s okay. That’s fine. I just need time. Then I’ll be fine.      Right?      Till the next one.      From H.P.

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12th November 1998Malfoy,      I genuinely don’t think I’ll ever get used to your owl appearing at my house. I know this is only the second time you’ve written to me, but still. It’s so weird, cuz your owl is so pretty and glamorous, and my house is, well, not.       It’s also weird for you to be asking after me. ‘Dear Harry, How are you doing? I hope you are doing well.’ That’s fucking strange. Again, I don’t think I’ll ever get used to that.      Or maybe I will. Maybe we’ll write more letters to each other and you’ll ask after me more often. Maybe we could be proper friends. That would be kind of cool. We could be friends like how I’m friends with Neville and Dean, or like how you’re friends with Zabini and Parkinson. Friends. But not close friends. Y’know?      Anyway, yes I will come with you to visit Andi on Saturday. Which is in two days, I think. Yeah, the 14th. (Yes, I’ll write you a real letter in a second, but I need to get out all the wishy washy words in here.) I haven’t left my house in a very long time. Apparating to and from Helen’s office doesn’t count. And sure, I went to the graveyard on All Hallow’s Eve, but that also barely counts. My house is very close to the graveyard.       Besides, Andi is worried about me. And she said she and Teddy miss me loads and loads. I need to go and visit them. Reassure them that I am okay and that I am surviving. (Barely.) Kreacher will want to spruce me up before I go so I don’t scare anyone with how I look. Because yes, I still look like a mess. The outside matches the inside. How fitting.       I guess I am looking forward to seeing you as well. A bit of normality, almost. Y’know? Like, you’re not going to fawn over me or be all ‘Ooo the Saviour.’ You won’t even fight me. We’re civil now. I love that we’re civil now. We could almost be friends. And I hope we can be friends. I’d love to be your friend. (I don’t care that I sound like a primary school kid right now, okay? I do really want to be your friend.)       It will be nice to visit Andi and Teddy and see you. See Draco. That will be nice. I’m looking forward to it.       Also I don’t like how short the last few letters have been. Half of me feels like it’s not worth writing if the letters are only going to be half a page long. But Helen says it doesn’t matter. The letters can be as long or as short as I need them to be, because they’re my letters and they’re my coping mechanism and they can be whatever length I want them to be. So it’s okay.       I’ll go and write the real you a letter now. Draco. Kreacher will be happy for me. He’s been very unhappy recently, but that’s because I’m unhappy. So he will be pleased when I tell him I’m visiting Andi and Teddy with you. He’ll like that. He’ll say it’s good for me and that this kind of thing will help me on my journey to recovery.       Baby steps, right?      Till the next one.      From H.P.

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14th November 1998Malfoy,      It’s really nice to hear you actually being happy with your family. When you talk to Andi and Teddy, you sound genuinely happy. You smile and laugh a lot more than you used to, and you even use a funny baby voice for Teddy, which is stupidly adorable. And I love it. I love seeing you as Draco, not as Malfoy. Draco laughs and is happy and jokes with me. Malfoy is a cold hearted bastard. Well, he was. You were. But now you’ve changed. I like that you’ve changed. You seem lighter. In the sense that a weight has been lifted off your chest. You don’t look as upset or as tired as you used to. You’ve filled out a bit. You look healthy.      I know Andi was shocked when she saw us standing next to each other on the door. Because we look so different now. You’re getting better, healthier. I’m spiralling downwards, unable to get up. We’re a funny pair, stood together. I know I look fucking awful stood next to you, but I don’t really care at this point. I’ve given up caring.      And it was really, really weird that you asked me how I was. You sounded half concerned. And that scared me. Didn’t I say that you better not show any concern for me, huh, Draco? No concern. Because if you’re concerned, then something is very badly wrong. Please don’t be concerned for me. I can’t deal with that. It’s bad enough with Helen and Kreacher and everyone else. I can’t have you being worried about me as well. I just want you to be Draco, my friend. But not so close a friend that you’d be concerned about me. Please don’t do that.      Sitting in Andi’s kitchen now, writing this letter and listening to you next door, is strange. It sort of feels like I’m an observer in your family. Someone who doesn’t belong. And yes, I know I do belong, I know you’ve told me that, but it’s just how I feel. When I was sat with you and Andi and Teddy not five minutes ago, I didn’t feel like a part of the group. That’s why I said I was going to get a drink. And that’s why I’ve stayed in the kitchen to write this letter. Because I felt so detached and out of it and like I didn’t belong.       Hang on, Andi has just come in. I’ll finish this letter in a sec.      Andi sounds far too worried about me. Yes hi I know it’s been like three hours, but Andi came in and then we spoke and then she took me back into the sitting room with you and Teddy and we sat and then it was time to go home, and I couldn’t exactly finish this letter in the sitting room with everyone around me. So it had to wait.      Anyway, actually, it’s not just Andi, it’s both of you. You and Andi. You both sound way too worried about me to be healthy. I’m not your concern, so why are you both so worried about me? Sure, I get that I look like a mess and my voice is all fucked up from all my crying and screaming and shouting (nightmares) but like, stop being worried about me.      Okay fine, I get that that can be hard. Well, I know it’s hard. But also just stop it. I can’t cope with so many people being worried about me. You and Andi are supposed to be my friends from a distance. You know? Like, you talk to me, you like me, but you keep your noses out of my personal business and you don’t get so damn concerned about me. Because I hate it when people are concerned about me. It gets overwhelming when so many people are always worried about you, and I hate it so much. I’m fine with just Helen and Kreacher. And I guess Ron and Hermione and that lot. Although I haven’t spoken to them in a while. Hermione wrote me a letter last week. I still need to respond to that, actually. I should probably do that before she assumes I’m dead. That wouldn’t be good.       I just need you and Andi to stop being so damn concerned about me. It’s too much. And I know that’s easier said than done, because I can see your faces when I say that I’m fine, just tired. Neither of you believe me. Which is honestly fair enough, because I am definitely not fine. I am tired, but I am not fine. I’ve accepted that now. But please, please Draco, I’m begging you, don’t be worried about me. I can’t cope with that. That’s too much worry.       Anyway, here, in this letter, I shall make a formal promise to you. I will be there for you every two weeks when you want to visit Andi and Teddy. I will get Kreacher to help me to be ready in the morning so I am vaguely presentable to leave the house. Helen said last session that doing this bi-weekly with you will be good for me. It will help me get better. Get me out of the house and interacting with real people again. It will be good. And I agree. I like being with you and Andi and Teddy, even if I do feel like a bit of an outsider. I can get over that. I can work on that with Helen.       I want to be normal again. You know? Like, okay fine, I know I keep saying I want to kill myself, because I do, but there’s this small part of me that wants to be normal and get back to my normal life. I want to be a real person again. A proper functioning member of society. I want to be a proper godfather to Teddy and a proper friend to you. I want to be normal again.      But being normal is so hard. Especially when I’m at rock bottom. I feel like I’ve sunk so low I’ve gone past rock bottom at this point. It’s so bad. And I could tell that you and Andi picked up on that. Andi outright told me that she saw I was struggling and she wants to help, and you, although you didn’t tell me, I could see it in your actions. You were more touchy. Like a hand on my arm or on my knee, or you nudged my shoulder. Like you really were my friend. Reassuring me. Or attempting to at least. Though you did ask way too many questions. And I could tell you wanted to ask me, without bullshit, if I was okay. I could see it in your goddamn concerned eyes. Really, Malfoy, concern doesn’t look good on you. Especially concern for me. Come on now. Stop it.       The thing is though, I want to tell you. I want to tell you about everything that’s going on and about how much I’m struggling. It sucks so much. I want to tell you and  then I want a hug. I want to be held. But I can’t tell you all of this. I can’t tell Draco. Because it’s not fair on you. Sure, if you ask, you would argue that you want to know, but trust me, Draco doesn’t want to know. Draco wouldn’t want to see this side of me. It’s bad enough that you have to see the mess I am when I’m at Andi’s. The last thing you need is to see what I’m like at home. (It’s so bad. As you know from all these letters.)       Listen, I know everything is fucking awful and I’m on the verge of actually killing myself, but I need to have some form of normality in my life. Visiting Andi and Teddy with you will be good for that. Bi-weekly. Then I have a guarantee that at least once a fortnight I will leave my mess behind and come and sit with you guys. Even if I do retreat to the kitchen to write a letter and leave you guys to have proper family time without me hanging around.       Because I get that I bring the mood down. Seamus told me that once. When I moved to Godric’s Hollow. It was the usual crew, me, Ron, Hermione, Seamus, Deanm, Neville, Luna and Ginny in the house, giving it a sort of house warming party, but I wasn’t talking much, and Seamus just said I was bringing the mood down with all my sadness. He said I should just cheer up and have some fun because I’m free now.       But the thing is, I’m not free. If anything, I feel even more trapped by everything. I’m haunted by it all, unable to let it go or have fun without thinking about it. I can’t do anything without thinking about what happened. It’s pretty impossible for me now. Which sucks, but it is what it is. And sure, it’s shit, but it’s my luck. Y’know? I’ve accepted it though. I’m trying to deal with it. Helen will help. Does help. So does Kreacher. I’m going to be okay. Right?      Till the next one.      From H.P.

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18th November 1998Malfoy,      Ron’s owl appeared at my house this morning. Apparently Hermione has overworked herself nearly to death and she collapsed yesterday and has fallen into some sort of coma. Which is fucking terrifying. Ron said she was working so hard, but he thought that was just her trying to catch up on everything she missed while we were on the run and it was her way of showing she was extra/over prepared for her NEWTs. But apparently not.      He said he spoke to her a couple of days ago and she admitted that she’s been burying herself in school work and revision and extra work so that she doesn’t have to think about the war and everything that happened. So she doesn’t have to think about the way Bellatrix tortured her, or about the way she had to wipe her own parents’ memories of her mere existence, or about the battle and the fighting and the deaths and the screams and all the pain and hurt and blood and dark magic.       She drowned herself in her NEWT studies so she didn’t have to remember it all. Her version of whatever the fuck I’m doing over here. Ron said she’s not been sleeping well, and her eating habits have grown so bad he’s had to force her into the Great Hall. She avoids it now, according to him. She can’t face it. She gets reminded of all the bodies lined up. So she skips meals and Ron has to bring her food. She would work so hard that she fell asleep in the library. That’s what Ron said.       He said he hasn’t told me about all of this before because he didn’t want me to worry about her because I have my own issues, but now she’s worked herself into a coma, he wants me to know. And he wants me to come and see her. At Hogwarts. He wants me to come up to Hogwarts and be with him for a bit and see her. He wants me to be there for him. At Hogwarts.      Which is fine. I can go to Hogwarts, can’t I? For Ron and Hermione I would do anything. Going to Hogwarts will be fine. I can sit with Ron and tell him that Hermione will be okay, she just needs professional help. She needs a mind healer. (For all her insistence that I see one, she hasn’t seen one herself. Which is fucked up, considering she was tortured.)       Ron wants me to be there for him and Hermione, so I’m going to go. I have to go. I have to be there for my two best friends because this is their time of need and they need me. And I’m going to be there for them because I love them so much and I need them to know I will be there for them no matter what. Even if my own world is falling apart (which it is) I will be there for my friends. Because they’re Ron and Hermione and they deserve to have me when they need me.       Maybe I’ll see you when I come up. That would be nice. Maybe we can do something when I’m not sitting with Ron and Hermione. Probably not though. I guess you’re surrounded by NEWTs too. I remember you said that at Andi’s. But still, it would be nice if I could see you. I wrote back to Ron immediately and he said that McGonagall can arrange a room for me in the castle so I can stay for a couple of nights and be there for Ron and Hemrione. So maybe I can see you. If I’m there for a couple of days.      I’ll admit, I am scared. To go up to Hogwarts, I mean. And to stay for a couple of days. I’m scared that the memories will get too much for me and that I’ll get so overwhelmed that I’ll need to back out and dip and disappear home and not leave my bed for three weeks. Which can’t happen, because you need me to come and see Andi and Teddy on the 28th. So I have to be up for that.       Kreacher is telling me I need to get ready now. I need to make myself presentable and pack a little bag to go to Hogwarts. I’m flooing straight into McGonagall’s office in an hour, Ron said. It’s all been confirmed, apparently. Which is fine. I’ll be fine. It will all be fine. Won’t it?      I mean, it has to be. And it will be fine. I will be fine. I can keep myself under control and then just cast silencing charms on the room so I don’t disturb anyone at night. I will be fine. Okay? Everything is going to go perfectly. I’m going to visit Ron and Hermione to be there for them as they need me, and I’m not going to get overwhelmed. And everything will be okay.       Till the next one.      From H.P.

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18th November 1998Malfoy,      This was a really, really, really bad idea.      From H.P.

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30th November 1998Malfoy,      No, I am not dead. I am still alive. I didn’t kill myself. I wanted to, but I didn’t. Kreacher helped stop me. So y’know. Still here.       I was wrong, by the way. Nothing was fine. Nothing was okay. Everything went so awfully wrong. As you can probably guess, given that this letter is 12 days after the last one and I missed your visit to Andi and Teddy. Which I am so sorry for missing. I know I promised I would go every time, but I physically couldn’t. Kreacher tried to get me up and out of the house, but I couldn’t leave my bed. God, I’ve been in a fucking state.       Basically, the quick version is this:      I got to Hogwarts fine. I was vaguely presentable and looked kind of put together. McGonagall was there to greet me and she got a house elf to take my bag to my room. She tried to talk to me about myself, but I just said I was doing fine and asked her to take me to Hermione and Ron. She led me from her office to the hospital wing. Everyone was in lessons, so we didn’t bump into anyone. Which was good.      Then we got to the hospital wing and there was Hermione, looking awful, and Ron, also looking awful. Hermione was lying, eyes closed, barely breathing on the bed and Ron was holding her hand, his head on her bed too.       He was so happy to see me. He gave me a proper hug and said how I looked like shit but he was glad I was there for him and Hermione. I told him I would always be there for them. Then I just sat with them. I held Hermione’s other hand and let Ron lean on me and let him tell me about whatever he wanted to. About his NEWTs, about his worry for Hermione, about the war, about how he misses me. About anything and everything. He needed to.       Then he had to go to his lessons. I sat with Hermione for a bit more, talking at her (Pomfrey said that was good for her.) And then McGonagall came back and said she would show me where I was staying.       Except this time, when I left the hospital wing, there were students everywhere. And when I say everywhere, I mean everywhere. And they all wanted to see me and touch me and be near me and tell me how thankful they were that I saved them all. McGonagall got them all to go away, though, which was nice. But I think that was the start of it all going downhill.       We went to my room. She said I could stay there and chill until dinner, when Ron would come and get me. I could sit at the Gryffindor table with him.       I sat. I stared into space. I tried to read, but I couldn’t focus. I could hear people walking past my door, saying that ‘THE Harry Potter is in there’ and ‘Should we knock and say hello? I want to tell him thanks for saving us.’ None of them knocked. Not until it was dinner time. Then Ron appeared.       He took me to the Great Hall. Well. He tried to.       There were people everywhere again. And this time, they didn’t leave me alone. They got right up into my face. And when Ron blasted them all backwards they left us alone, but they were staring.      And then the memories hit. Everywhere I looked, I saw the war. I saw the ruins and the death and the blood. I heard the screams and the shouts and the curses. Everything. I couldn’t walk. Ron had to physically guide me to the Great Hall. But then I turned into Hermione. I couldn’t go into the Great Hall. All I saw was the bodies. All those dead bodies of my friends. The people I loved. I heard the cries and the anguish from the living who saw their loved ones.       I froze. I fucking froze. Although you know that, don't you? Because I saw you in the Great Hall. All I saw was the bodies, then I saw you. Draco. You were staring right at me. Fuck me, you looked so fucking worried. You were saying my name. You stood up. But I was frozen.       Ron was trying to get me back to myself. Everyone was staring at me. McGonagall was staring at me. Everyone. Ron was saying my name. Luna appeared. She was saying my name too. But I couldn’t hear them. I couldn’t hear anything. There was just the screams and the bodies. And you.       And then I knew I had to leave.       So I left. Except not in the traditional way. Y’know, walking. I fucking apparated out of Hogwarts and back to my house. Because apparently I can do that now. But you knew that. Because you were there.      I could’ve splinched myself, for fuck’s sake. I was so lucky I didn’t.       And then Kreacher was all in my face, worried, upset, and we fought, and I wanted to kill myself, but he stopped me. I had a bath. I wrote a tiny letter to you. He put me to bed. He went and got my bag from Hogwarts and he left me in bed.      And today, I got out of bed. For the first time in twelve days, I got out of bed. And it was of my own accord, by the way. Kreacher didn’t force me up. I got up because I knew I needed to. Because I had missed a session with Helen and I had missed your visit to Andi and Teddy, and lying in bed for thirteen days in a row is fucking awful. Besides, I needed a wash. I have a session with Helen tomorrow (which she will not be happy if I miss) and I wanted to write this letter. I needed to. I need to get it all out of me. Because it was fucking shit.      Don’t get me wrong, I’m glad I went to Hogwarts. I’m glad I went to see Ron and Hermione because God knows they needed me. Ron especially. He really needed me. And I’m glad I was there for them. For him. But it was awful. It was too soon. Way too soon. I had a letter from Ron waiting for me on the kitchen table too. I saw it when I got up. I knew I would have one. But there were also two from you. Which was weird. Nice, but weird. I haven’t opened yours yet. I need to. In a bit though. Once my hair is dry and I’ve drunk the coffee Kreacher shoved at me when I stumbled into the kitchen. (He’s barely left me all this time. I’m so worried about him.)      Ron’s letter said that Hermione was transferred to St. Mungo’s a couple of days ago. She had woken up, but was groggy and full of PTSD, basically, and apparently her magical core was going haywire too, so they sent her over. Ron said he wants me to come and see her in Mungo’s. He said he’s sorry for making me come to Hogwarts and having to face all my memories, but he asked me to come to Mungo’s. If I’m up for it. Which I definitely am. I need to see Hermione. I miss her. She needs me.      He also said my apparition out of Hogwarts was the talk of the school for ages. Because only the headmaster can apparate in and out of Hogwarts, to have someone who isn’t even a student apparate out of it was, well, insane. Which is understandable. But at least this time I don’t have to face the gossip and the rumours. I bet there’s a rumour going around that I’m a new powerful wizard and my apparition out of Hogwarts was me showing off my powers and showing what I can do. I’m strong enough to break the laws of Hogwarts Magic.       Load of bollocks.       Well anyway. I’m up and out of bed. I’m processing. It was super hard, but I’m processing and I’m out of bed. I’m going to talk to Helen about it all tomorrow. I need to. I need to actually talk about this. Because it’s fucked with my head, Malfoy. It’s really messed with my head. (Of course it has, I was in bed for twelve days.)       Maybe I need to get out of the country for a bit. Get far, far away from the UK and all these memories and the war and it all. Maybe that’s what I need. Except I can’t do that, because that’s running away, and I can’t run away from my problems, because they’ll just be 10,000 times bigger when I return. So I have to stick it out and heal here. Blood, sweat and tears, Malfoy. Draco. Blood, sweat and tears.      I can do this. I’ve got this. I will be okay.      (Yes, I’m going to read your letters now. Both of them. And yes, I’ll answer them properly. With real sentences. I promise.)      Till the next one.      From H.P

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3rd December 1998Malfoy,      Right, when I wrote back to you saying that I was going to visit Hermione in St. Mungo’s, I did not fucking expect you to be there, sitting in the waiting room with an auror hovering behind you. Nor did I expect you to be there for ME. Yes I know you said you were there for Hermione too, because apparently you two are sort of vague friends now (which is good!) but being there for me too? Christ, Draco, really? If you wanted to see me, you literally could’ve just written to me.       It was weird seeing you there, I can’t lie. And it is still weird for you to be concerned about me. Stop it right now, okay? The look on your face when you saw me, blimey, that was enough to make me want to curl in on myself and disappear. You looked so upset and shocked. Fair though, I know I looked like a fucking mess when I got to Mungo’s. Kreacher all but shoved a decent pair of trousers and a hoodie at me. Then he shot a shaving charm at me and attacked my hair with a hair brush. Honestly, you’d have thought that by now, he’d have learnt that nothing can be done to my hair to make it right. It’s a permanent mess. Which is fine, because I am a permanent mess.      Anyway, I think it was the way you jumped up when you saw me that really got me. Like, no-one has ever jumped up when they see me. Not in a friendly way. Only ever in a ‘Oh my God, that’s Harry Potter, let’s speak to him!’ kind of way. But you. You looked relieved to see me. Well, you looked concerned as well, but you looked genuinely glad that I was there. Although you were far too concerned for your own good. Please, for all our sakes, stop being so damn worried about me. I can’t cope!      You sort of looked like you wanted to hug me. And honestly? I would’ve welcomed that hug. I need a hug. I haven’t been hugged in so long. And no, we are not counting Teddy’s hugs here. Yes, he hugs me all the time, but I need to be held, y’know? Properly hugged. Teddy’s hugs are tiny baby hugs. They barely count at this point. (Though I do love his hugs. He’s so sweet.)      I’m glad you came to see Hermione with me too. I don’t think I could’ve done it on my own. Plus, it meant your auror could wait in the waiting room, which was even better. I fucking hate aurors. They get on my damn nerves.       I was really nervous to see Hermione. I didn’t know how she’d react to seeing me or what she’d be like. So yeah, I am very glad you came with me. I wish Ron had been there, but he was there yesterday, so it’s fair that he wasn’t today.       I can’t lie, my heart broke when I saw Hermione. She looked like a shell of the girl she was when she went to Hogwarts in September. How can so much have changed in three months? She looked almost as bad as me. I know she has professionals looking after her and making sure she doesn’t look as bad as me, but still. God it cut deep seeing her. I can’t believe she ended up like this. I thought she was the strong one out of the three of us.       Hugging her was weird. It wasn’t really a hug, to be honest. I think we were both as afraid as each other that if we hugged too hard we would hurt each other. Which is ridiculous, because it was clear that we both just needed a proper hug. She looked as upset to see me as I did to see her, as well. Upset as in upset at my appearance. Like, I was upset she was all sunken and tired, and she was upset at the way I looked. (A mess.) Though I’m glad she didn’t say anything. I think she was too tired to fight with me about looking after myself.      Hearing that she’s going to be seeing a mind healer was good. I’m happy that she’s finally getting the help that she deserves. Because she really needed help. Proper help. Not just whatever Pomfrey could offer her. She deserves real help as well. She’s done so fucking much, Draco. Honestly, I genuinely think that without her, I would’ve died. She did so much for me and Ron while we were on the run. Without her, we would’ve stood no chance. She was fucking brilliant.      I could tell she wanted to lecture me on my appearance and on my abysmal letter answering habits (they’ve gotten so much worse) but I’m so glad she didn’t. I didn’t need you hearing that. You’re allowed to see my outside. What I show you. But nothing else. No. This is my mess that I keep inside me. Okay?      So I guess that’s another reason why I should thank you for being with me. Because then Hermione couldn’t lecture me. We had to be polite and we couldn’t talk about deeper things because we didn’t want you hearing them. So thank you, Draco Malfoy. Saving me from my best friend, thank you. And it was another great reason for me to leave early. Not that I don’t want to stay with her, but I was getting antsy. I hate being in such public spaces. Anyone could spot me. And I could’ve been accosted by a healer saying I needed to be checked over. You needing to leave was my perfect getaway.       Don’t get me wrong, I adore Hermione, I really do, but in places like St. Mungo’s, I can’t stay long. I really can’t. Plus, she would’ve started lecturing me the moment you left, and I can’t cope with that right now. I have Helen for that. I don’t need Hermione’s worry as well. I’m surrounded by worry. I can’t deal with anymore. (Another reason why you need to back off with your concern, for crying out loud. Please!!)       And yes, to answer your question properly, yes, I wanted you to stay. I wanted you to stay with me and come back with me and keep me company and make me feel less lonely just for a few hours. I needed you to stay. But of course, you had lessons. You’re on probation. You need an auror with you and I refuse to have an auror in my house. And besides, I can’t have you see my house. Because my house is only a little better than me. Kreacher is getting older and he can’t keep up with the mess I leave around the house. It’s heartbreaking. And it just reminds me how close he is to dying. How close I am to being alone, really alone, properly alone.       I think that’s another reason why I wanted you to stay with me. Because then I wouldn’t have been alone. And I can’t be alone anymore. For fuck’s sake, I can’t be alone anymore. I really can’t. It’s too much to be alone all the time, Draco. I need someone. But I can’t have anyone, because I won’t let anyone into my house and no-one would want to be around me anyway. Not when they see how I really am at home. I’m awful, Draco. It’s so bad.       I’m glad Hermione is going to get help. I’m glad you’re also seeing a mind healer. I’m glad you two are going to get better. I mean, you’re already so much better than you were back in September. And Hermione is going to get miles better with her mind healer. It’s nice to see everyone around me getting better. (I know that sounds bitter, but I’m not, I promise. I’m genuinely happy to see everyone else getting better. Genuinely. Even when I can’t get better myself.)       I need to go to bed now. I’m so tired. Going to Mungo’s and seeing you and Hermione took so much out of me honestly. I just needed to get this letter out before I collapse. I feel like I’m about to collapse. God I’m exhausted.       Till the next one.      From H.P.

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6th December 1998Malfoy,      George Weasley came over today. I knew he would be coming, because he had written in advance, thank fuck. So Kreacher and I were able to sort the house out and make it look better so George wouldn’t think I’ve completely fallen apart. (Even though I pretty much have at this point.)       I actually sort of can’t believe he came over. He’s barely left his room this entire time and he hasn’t spoken to me in fucking ages. But he came over because he said he wanted the bullshit to end and he wanted me to come over to the Burrow for Yule. To which I said absolutely fucking not. I am spending Yule with Kreacher and Casper (if Kreacher makes it that far) and I will maybe see if Miriam and David would mind if I crashed their Christmas celebration. Those two have been kind to me, from what little I’ve seen of them. So if I get too lonely, I’ll crash their celebration. (If I make it to Yule, anyway.)       George was really upset that I said no to going to the Burrow for Yule. I know Molly will be too. But I can’t, Malfoy. I really can’t. Everyone will be there, for fuck’s sake. Molly and Arthur, Bill and Fleur, Percy and Oliver, Charlie and George, Ron and Hermione and Ginny. I honestly wouldn’t be surprised if Luna and her dad were there as well. And that’s way too many people. It would be too noisy and too much and I have a feeling they might tread on eggshells around me which I fucking hate. I don’t need to be treated like some fragile, broken person. I can be treated like a normal fucking human being. Because that’s what I am. Putting all my trauma and depression aside. I am normal. I am.      Anyway, I told George I could come over afterwards. Not on Yule day, but another day. Maybe Boxing Day. (He had no idea what that was. I’ve been so surrounded by muggles that I forgot Yule doesn’t have a Boxing Day.) Maybe not. Maybe some quite random day in between Yule and New Year. If I make it to the new year. I’m not entirely sure I will. But that’s neither here nor there. We’ll just have to wait and see. (Yes, I promise to try and make it to 1999. Maybe even 2000. That would be cool, to see the new millennia. But for now, I think making it to tomorrow is a good goal. Don’t you think so?)      George stayed for a while with me. I admit, it was really nice to have someone in the house again. It’s a house that was supposed to be filled with people. I should bring that back. If I manage to gather up enough energy to do so and don’t end up offing myself in the process.       He mentioned that someone had taken a photo of me while I was at Mungo’s visiting Hermione, and lo and behold, The Prophet painted me as a depressed, unstable, traumatised Saviour, haunted by his past, visiting his equally as haunted best friend. I fucking knew they’d portray me as an unstable fucker. I fucking knew it. See? This is why I don’t go to wizarding areas and why I stay at home. I don’t want to be seen, for Merlin’s sake, or they’ll do this to me.       I mean, I know I am a depressed, unstable and traumatised person, but that’s besides the point. That’s just life. It’s the fact that they blatantly splashed it across all the front pages without any care of me or my personal life. They just wanted to show the world that although I saved their lives, I’m traumatised. I’m a recluse who is so haunted by his past, the only thing that can bring him back into the public eye is his best friend collapsing and being sent to the hospital. How fucked up is that? I fucking hate the press.       George said there was no mention of you though, which is good. Maybe they’ve moved on from you. Left you alone. They’ve seen you’re getting better and they thought that they should leave you alone now. That would be nice. I’d rather have all the attention on me than on you, because you don’t deserve the treatment you get from the press. I mean, I guess I don’t either, but rather me than you. You deserve peace now. No more hate.      George stayed for a while, which was nice. We spoke about nothing in particular. How his shop was coming along, what my neighbours were like, how his family was, what I was getting up to recently. Safe chatter. Nothing too deep, really. Apparently, he’s actually been leaving his room recently to work on his shop. He said Charlie helped him out when he was in town, which was nice. I mean, since I did invest in that shop, I’d hope that George pulled it back together again, but also I see how much he’s struggling.       But he does look a million miles better than when I last saw him. When I last saw him, he looked a fucking mess. He didn’t brush his hair, he didn’t shave, he barely washed, and he spent all day in bed. Fuck, he had lost his other half, I can’t imagine what that was like for him. But he said he’s also seeing a mind healer, which is absolutely brilliant. I’m proud of him. Genuinely. He deserves to heal after what happened to him. He doesn’t deserve to sit in pain every day. He was so brave, Malfoy. He did so fucking much for us. George deserves to be happy, and I’m glad he’s taking the steps to get better.        He said that Hermione was discharged from St. Mungo’s on Friday as well. She’s spent the weekend at the Burrow to recharge, and then she’s going back up to Hogwarts tonight with Molly. Her mind healer is going to visit her up there twice a week and she’s going to be getting extra support from the school, which is good. I’m glad she’s going to start getting better.       Do you think it’s mean of me to be sort of glad that Hermione had this episode? Because it ended up with her trauma being recognised and she ended up getting help. I think that if this hadn’t happened, she’d have powered on through and then ended up completely fucked up beyond help by the time her NEWT exams started. So, y’know. I’m glad she’s gotten help. Even if she did have to collapse for it to be recognised.      The house went back to being too quiet when George left. It wasn’t nice. Kreacher put the telly on and we watched some dumb show that was on the BBC. It wasn’t interesting, but it was something to have on in the background. Something to fill the silence.       I helped Kreacher make tea as well. I say that like it was a big achievement when it really wasn’t. I blended tomatoes with some other stuff to make tomato soup. And Kreacher had made some bread yesterday too, so we had that. It was good food. Yes, I actually ate it. Be proud of me. Casper tried to have some but he hated it, so I found some other stuff to give him.       I feel empty, Draco. So empty. Yes, it was nice seeing George today, but it’s like there’s nothing inside me at the moment. I feel numb. Empty. Like I’m filled with a great chasm of nothing. That’s another reason why I cut myself. Because I want to feel something. I want to feel human. I want to feel pain. I don’t want to feel like an emotionless zombie.       But see, I don’t feel empty all the time, but the thing is, when I don’t feel numb and when I can actually feel emotions, it’s all the rubbish emotions. Depression, sadness, exhaustion, upset, anger. Y’know. All of them.       It’s really shit, but like, what can I do about it? ‘Get better.’ Easier fucking said than done. God, Draco, I’m trying. I’m trying so goddamn hard, but do you know how fucking difficult it is for me to try and drag myself up from below rock bottom?      I’m dying. I’ve worked this out by now. I’m dying. It’s not good, is it? No. No it’s really not. But I feel like I’m getting to the point where I am beyond help. I really hope I’m not beyond help, but I have a feeling I might be. And that is fucking terrifying.      Till the next one.      From H.P.

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11th December 1998Malfoy,      For the last bleeding time, will you stop being so damn worried about me?! Please! I get that you’re concerned and you’re looking out for me, but didn’t I say that you’re not allowed to write me letters where you’re worried about me? I told you! In these letters! Because I know that if you, of all people, start writing me letters talking about how much you worry about me and how much concern you have for me, then I know it’s gotten really, really, very bad.       So I guess this means it has gotten really, really, very bad now. If you’re writing to me to not just ask me to come to Andi’s tomorrow, but to say how much you worry about me, then I know everything has fallen to shit and that everything is falling down, down, down. Down, down, down. So far down that I can’t get back up. I can’t breathe. I can’t live.       Stop it, Draco. Stop it. Stop being worried about me. I don’t want you to be worried about me. You’re not supposed to be worrying about me at all. We’re friends, sure, but like, don’t worry about me. I hate it.       Yes, yes I will be there tomorrow at Andi’s. I know I missed the last one, but I will be there tomorrow. I have to see Andi and Teddy because I miss them anyway, and I want to spend time with them and you. Yes, of course I want to spend time with you. You’re my friend, and you’re not a friend who fusses. So stop fucking fussing, okay?      Okay fine, it’s kind of nice. (Shut up.) It’s nice to know that someone else cares, y’know? Seeing your owl appear and getting your letters makes me feel just a little bit less alone. It makes me feel like my tiny circle of people is growing. And I know I keep saying about how much I hate it that you worry over me, and I do, but it’s nice to know that someone else cares about me. I feel less alone.       I hate feeling so alone. I know it’s through all my own fault how alone I am, but I hate it. Besides, it’s not as if I can fix it. I dislike people. I hate being in crowds. I hate it. But I don’t like how alone I am nowadays. Because it’s winter, I don’t walk to Helen’s, so I don’t see people on my walk. I don’t see Miriam and David because they aren’t out walking because it’s so cold. (It is so, so cold here in Suffolk. But Kreacher keeps the fire going and we have the heating so it’s not awful in my house, but I still get so, so cold. Maybe that’s because I’m so thin.)       So even though I hate how much you worry, I like that you care. I like that your letters and your words make me feel so much less alone. Is it weird that when I read your letters, it’s like I can hear your voice? It feels like you’re in the room. Behind me. Next to me. Sitting in front of me, speaking the words to me. It’s like I can see you in front of me sometimes, your mouth moving, the words coming directly from you. Your voice.       Is it weird that I miss you? I know I don’t really speak to you much when we’re at Andi’s, and I didn’t speak to you much at St. Mungo’s when we were there for Hermione, but I do miss you. Being around you. It’s kind of calming. Which is weird, because when have I ever been calm around you? But it is. You make me feel a little better, even if we don’t talk. Even when I’m just reading your letters or sitting in the same room as you.       So when I’m alone at home, yes I miss you. It probably is weird. I bet you barely even think of me when you’re at Hogwarts. (Well I know that’s not true because of your letters, but you probably don’t think of me as much as I think of you.) I miss you. I do. Sometimes, I find myself sitting with a pen and paper, wanting to write to you to ask to meet up or something, but then I remember that we don’t do that, because we’re not close, and also I don’t leave my house, and you have an auror following you around whenever you step a toe off Hogwarts’ grounds. And I fucking refuse to be near any aurors.       I think it is probably weird that I miss you, but I don’t really give a shit anymore. I don’t really give a shit about anything anymore. (Apathy. That’s what Helen said. It’s not good, apparently.) So I admit it. I do miss you. A lot. Too much. It’s unhealthy. But I don’t care.      At least I’ll see you tomorrow. I’ll get to meet you outside Andi’s, like usual, and we will go inside, and we will see Andi and Teddy, who will be so happy to see us, and we will have a good day with them. It will be nice. I’m looking forward to it. Kreacher is glad I’m looking forward to it. I think he wants to have Andi and Teddy over here again. Maybe we can invite you too. Obviously, we would clean the house thoroughly beforehand. There’s no way I’m letting you come here when it looks like this. (It’s so bad, Draco. It’s a mess.) We will make it look good. Presentable. Maybe I’ll even light a candle. A scented one. I like scented candles. It will make this place seem nicer.       I’m worried about tomorrow, though. I’m worried I’ll be too gloomy. That I’ll just sit there and not talk and then I’ll just go and sit in the kitchen so you don’t have to be around me. Because I really don’t want to bring the mood down. I don’t want you and Andi and Teddy to be uncomfortable around me. Because (I know I’ve said this loads but it’s true) I’m fucked up. And I think I’m losing the ability to be around people. Even people I know and love. I spend so much of my time alone, in my house, with only an elf and a cat for company (and once a week, a shrink.) I barely see any people, especially as it’s winter, so I don’t leave my house.       I’m so lonely. I simply just don’t see people. So I’m scared that tomorrow, I’ll bring the mood down and I’m scared you and Andi and Teddy will be so uncomfortable around me that you won’t know what to do. And I really don’t want to make you guys uncomfortable.      Maybe I can just stay in the kitchen, or I can sit under a warming charm in the garden. That way you can have fun and you won’t be made uncomfortable by me and my fucked up self. Me and my behaviour and my emotions and all of that. Because I know your time with Andi and Teddy is precious and it’s special because they’re your family and you love them, and the last thing I want is to fuck it all up simply because I’m too fucked up for my own good. For anyone’s good, really.       I’ll definitely come, that’s for sure. I need to get out of the house and I want to see you and Andi and Teddy. But I’ll bring a book. That’s a good idea. A book. Then I can sit in the kitchen and read and not look depressed by staring into space. I can just read and let you guys be happy in the other room. That’s a good plan, right?       I mean, you probably think it’s a terrible plan. I know Andi would think it’s a terrible plan, because it involves me being alone again. But I don’t give a shit. I’ll be in a different house with people in it and I’ll read my book. It’s a good idea. And you guys won’t be brought down by my shitty self.       I am sorry I’m like this. I hate it. And I promise, I am trying so, so hard to change, but fuck me it’s difficult. It’s so, so difficult. Getting better takes so much out of me. It’s so much easier just to lie in bed and accept this depression. But Helen and Kreacher say I can’t do that because then I’ll die, and according to them, that’s a bad thing. Even though I don’t mind that. I think everything would be so much easier if I were dead. Because then there would be so much less worry. Sure, people might be a little sad for a bit, but it would be for the best in the end.       Fuck, I can’t talk like this. Helen would get so upset if she heard me say this again. I told her all this once and ended up sobbing in her office and she held me and said dying is the easy way out, and never have I taken the easy way out. She said I have to fight this to get better.      But I’m fucking sick of fighting. I don’t want to fight anymore. The war is supposed to be over. So why isn’t it over for me?      Till the next one.      From H.P.

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12th December 1998Malfoy,      Fuck, I’m so sorry I’m always bringing the mood down. I could tell you and Andi and Teddy were uncomfortable around me. You didn’t know what to do, because I was just sitting there, not talking, staring into space. I shouldn’t have come out. I should’ve just stayed at home with Kreacher.       But I haven’t seen Andi in ages and I wanted to see Teddy and I knew you didn’t want an auror there and I wanted to be there. I wanted to see you guys. I needed to get out of the house and I needed to spend some time with real people.       I’m beyond sorry that the visit turned out to be almost exactly how I predicted in my last letter. I’m sorry I was kind of unresponsive and I’m sorry I brought the mood down. I really have lost the ability to be around people, huh? God, I was awful.       And you can’t say I didn’t try to make the situation better. Because I did. I tried to talk and I tried to engage, but when that wasn’t working, I tried to leave. I sat in the kitchen and read my book for a bit and that was good. I could tell that was good because I could hear you and Andi and Teddy all laughing and talking and having a good time. But then you had to come in and ask me to join you. Because apparently you all wanted me there, even if I was a stupidly unresponsive depressed guy sitting on the sofa staring into space.       Don’t fuck with me, Malfoy. I could tell that was a lie. But I am sorry for getting angry at you about that. I am. I’m beyond sorry. You didn’t deserve me snapping at you about that. Because when I looked at you, God, you looked heartbroken. And I’m sorry. I know I said sorry then, but I need to say it again, because I fucked up by snapping at you. I mean, I fuck up on a daily and it never bothers me, but because this was you, Draco, God it hurt. I feel so bad about that. And, okay sure, we made up, but I don’t think I’ll ever get over the look on your face.       I think that’s why I was so surprised when you just hugged me. Well, I was surprised you hugged me because you’re you and I’m me and we’re new friends, but also because I had just been so rude to you and I had snapped at you. And you looked so upset. But you hugged me.       Your hug, bloody fucking hell, Draco, I think I fell in love for a brief moment there. The way you held me made my knees weak and you’re so fucking lucky I didn’t burst into tears right then and there. You held me not like I was something fragile that needed to be handled with care, but like I was someone you loved and cared about. Like I meant something to you. Your arms were so tight around me and your head resting on the top of mine, blimey, that was the safest and most reassured I’d felt in a really fucking long time, Draco.       I really didn’t want to let you go. And I think you knew that when you were hugging me, because you didn’t complain about the fact that you were kneeling on Andi’s kitchen floor, and you didn’t whine at me when I gripped your shirt. You just held me and kept me close. You didn’t let me go. Not until Andi called us from next door. So as much as I didn’t want to let go, I don’t think you wanted to let go either. I think you wanted to stay there for as long as possible. Because that was what I wanted.       Merlin Draco, I didn’t want to leave your arms. I felt safe. I felt reassured and I felt cared for and I felt seen. Y’know? Like you saw my pain and you held me despite all of it. Despite the fact that I had snapped at you and been so rude, you held me. I genuinely don’t think I can describe just how I felt with your arms around me, with you surrounding me. You were everywhere. It was amazing. And I didn’t want to make you uncomfortable, but you didn’t seem uncomfortable. Because when I moved, you only held me tighter. So either you were trying to suffocate me, or you wanted to hold me closer and reassure me. And given the look on your face when Andi called us, I think you wanted to reassure me. You definitely didn’t want to suffocate me.       And then Teddy threw himself when we went back into the sitting room and he sat on my lap and he refused to get off me until we left. That also made me want to cry, because it was like he could sense I was upset and I needed a hug. (I mean I needed your hug again, but I will never say no to a hug from Teddy.) And Andi gave me a hug when we left and you gave me another hug and Jesus Christ, I felt so loved.       Honestly Draco, when I say I haven’t been hugged properly since the end of the war, I fucking mean it. I wouldn’t let Molly touch me after it all, I didn’t want hugs from my friends because I thought I was fine. I really haven’t been hugged like that since the end of the war.       I think, if I told my younger self that my first proper hug since the end of the war came from Draco Malfoy, he would have laughed in my face. Which is fair enough. But if I’m entirely honest, I’m glad it came from you. Because after the war, I’ve seen a whole new side of you, and I like this side. I like this new Draco. He’s kind, reassuring, and he actually likes talking to me. He talks to me without insulting me. I mean, he worries about me far too much, but he’s my friend.      I’m glad you’re my friend. This gives me another reason to keep living. Because living is so fucking hard right now. It’s winter, it’s cold, the house is growing messier by the day, Kreacher is growing slower, Casper is around less and less. It’s so hard to keep living in these conditions. But now I have you, Draco. You who hugs me and tells me that it’s okay and that you do care about me and you want me around. You’re giving me another reason to try and keep going. And believe me, I’m trying my hardest. But it’s hard. It’s so, so hard.      I’m also glad to hear that Andi and your mum are starting to reconnect. That’s brilliant news! Teddy can meet his Great Aunt and your mum can have more company. She and Andi reconnecting I think is really good. It will be good for both of them as well. They can build up their family again. I’m happy for them. Like, really happy for them. Getting their family back together again. That’s nice.       Is it bad that I miss you already? I miss your hug. Your reassurance. I miss it. I miss you. The house is too empty and lonely. I’m in the sitting room with Kreacher. He lit the fire and we’re watching the telly. BBC have got Blue Peter on. It’s good. Interesting. (Ish.) I just miss you.       I miss people. I miss Ron and Hermione and Luna and Ginny and Seamus and Neville and Dean. I miss them all. I miss it all so much. But I can’t bring myself to do anything about it because it’s so much effort. Okay sure, I wrote letters to them all a couple of days ago, and I asked you to say hi to them from me, but I miss them. I know they want me to come up for the next Hogsmeade weekend, and I want to go up as well. But not in the winter. Not when I’m struggling to even get out of bed. Not when I only sit in silence and stare into space, bringing the mood down.       I’ll go up when it’s a bit warmer. In the new year. If I make it to the new year. (Yes, I promise I’m going to try, but I’ve said before that it’s hard, so I’m going one day at a time right now.)       I want one of your hugs again. I know I’ve already said this but fuck me, Draco, when I tell you your hug was the best thing that has happened to me since my massive breakdown in June. I love your hugs. They’re so warm and caring and reassuring. Not ever words I thought I’d associate you with, but here we are. And they are the right words to use. Because you are warm and caring and reassuring. It was the best. Ever. And I want another one.       I better go now. Kreacher just asked if I can help with tea again. He’s getting so slow and old, Draco. I‘m scared he’s going to drop dead any second. I’m not prepared for that. I’m trying to be, but I’m really not.       Till the next one.      From H.P.

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15th December 1998Malfoy,      Last night was so bad. I don’t even know what triggered it being so bad. I didn’t fight with Kreacher, I ate my tea, Casper was around, Miriam waved at me when she walked past the house. It was fine. The day was fine.       But then it was nighttime and suddenly nothing was fine. Kreacher and Casper were asleep and I was all alone in my bathroom and my razor was just sitting there and then there was blood. So much blood. And pain. Blood and pain.       I couldn’t wake Kreacher up. He’d be so upset with me. So I cleaned it all up myself. I wrapped my arms in bandages after wiping them with antiseptic wipes. I took care of myself and the mess I had created and then I went and lay in bed and closed my eyes and had a nightmare.       You were in my nightmare. Standing over me with a knife, dripping with blood. “I don’t care about you, Potter. I never have and I never will. You are delusional. And now you will die.” That’s what you said to me. And you stabbed me.      And I woke up and saw I had bled through my bandages, so I had to clean that up and change my sheets and put new bandages on. (I didn’t want to do it with magic because that was too quick and easy. Changing my sheets the muggle way is a- something I was used to for the first eleven years of my life, and b- a distraction.)       Then I lay in bed and I wished that you were with me. Not to help or anything. Just to hold me and be with me and tell me that in the end, everything will be okay. But you weren’t with me, so I just closed my eyes. Then I woke up when Kreacher came in and said it was time to get up because I needed to shower and get ready to go and see Helen. I’ve just gotten out of the shower now. I shaved. Properly. Not just with a charm. Properly shaved. And no, I didn’t use my razor anywhere else. Just to shave my face. That was it. I promise.      I can feel myself slipping further and further downwards. I didn’t think it was possible, given I hit rock bottom quite a few months ago. But apparently I can go further than rock bottom. I’m going down, down, down, down. All the way down. Right down into the black abyss of trauma and depression that has taken over my life and is refusing to give me any method of climbing out of it.       I need another hug, Draco. I need to start getting better. But I’m so far down. I don’t know where to begin. I need a hug. I just want a hug.      It’s time to go to Helen’s now. Yes, I will tell her all of this. Everything. I hide nothing from her now. I don’t see the point. Maybe we’ll get into another argument again about how much of a shitty human I am because I can’t seem to be bothered to help myself. About how Helen can’t help me if I can’t help myself. Maybe she’ll threaten to discharge me again. Maybe she will discharge me. Maybe she’ll transfer me to a Ministry professional or a St. Mungo’s professional, who will lock me up after deeming me unfit for society and a danger to myself and others.      Or maybe she’ll hug me and say she’s trying her best and reassure me and then talk me through it. And then give me more coping mechanisms. I hope it’s this one. I don’t have the energy in me for a fight with Helen today. Besides, I hate fighting with her so much. Because she means a lot to me because she cares about me so I hate fighting with her. I hate fighting with anyone. I hate fighting.      Till the next one.      From H.P.

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19th December 1998Malfoy,      Andi’s letter just arrived and I actually smiled when I read it. I haven’t properly smiled in a while. Kreacher came in when I was reading it and he said how nice it was to see me smile, because he says I don’t smile enough anymore and I should smile more if I can. I told him it was because of Andi’s letter and I let him read it.       I actually feel happy. Properly happy. Andi has invited me to spend Yule with her and Teddy, and she said you and your mum will be there too. It will be so nice to spend Yule with all of you. A nice, small, quiet Yule. Very different to the loud and crazy celebrations the Weasley’s have. I really don’t want to go to the Weasley’s for Yule, and I don’t really want to spend it alone either, so I’m glad Andi wrote to me to ask me to spend it with you guys.      Molly wrote to me as well. Even though George came over a few days ago and I refused his invitation. She seems to think that I wasn’t thinking straight when I rejected George, so she’s written to me again inviting me over for Yule. Obviously, I said no to her too. I said I already have Yule plans. I am not spending Yule with the Weasley’s. I’m spending it with you.       I think if we told my younger self that I’d be spending my first Yule as an adult with Draco Malfoy, he would laugh, then scream and cry and refuse to believe it was true. But I don’t care. I’m really happy I get to spend Yule with you. Like, really happy. (Okay, yes, I want another hug from you but I also am just very happy to spend more time with you. I like being around you.)      The only downside to all this is that now I actually have to leave my house and go shopping for gifts. And I don’t want to do that. I don’t want to leave my house and I also have no fucking clue what to buy for you guys. Maybe a teddy for Teddy. Or a little broom. Sirius bought me my first broom, so I want to buy Teddy his first broom. But I have a feeling Andi will kill me if I buy him a broom when he’s still only eight months old. So maybe a stuffed snitch or something like that will have to do.       But what about you, Andi and your mum? I barely know what to buy for Hermione and Ron, what the fuck am I going to buy for you three? I asked Kreacher and he suggested a bunch of lavish wizarding things, but the thing is, given that I have to leave my house, I will be going to a muggle shopping centre. I am already pushing myself by leaving my house, so I absolutely will not be going to a wizarding shopping area, because I don’t really feel like being recognised and having a breakdown. (That would just encourage The Prophet in their quest to portray me as an unhinged and unstable danger to society.)      Maybe I’ll get some nice jewellery for your mum and Andi. They’ll like that, right? And maybe I can get you a book. I feel like you’d appreciate a book, even if it was muggle. I don’t know. Maybe I’ll see something when I go out there for you. I want them to all be good presents. Really good ones. Meaningful. Cuz like, it really means a lot to me that Andi asked me to spend Yule with you all, and I want to show her and you and your mum that I appreciate you all letting me in and letting me come to spend the day with you. So I want to get you all special things. And I will.       I’m going to ask Miriam to come with me shopping because I really don’t want to go alone. And I think she’d like that. I always see her and David walking past my house when they walk their dog and they wave at me every time. Plus I think it would be nice to spend more time with Miriam. She’s really nice so y’know. And I think she’ll be able to help me a lot with buying things for Andi and your mum. She seems like the kind of person to know what I should buy for them.       I think Helen will be proud of me when I tell her I’ve gone shopping. I have a session with her on Tuesday, so I’ll tell her then, and I hope she’ll be proud of me. Like, I know I probably shouldn’t do this when I’m in this state of mind, in case I end up throwing myself off a nearby bridge (another reason Miriam is coming, so I don’t kill myself) but I need to get out of my house. And I need to take the first steps into getting out more and being a better person.       Oh, also, my last session with Helen on the 15th: she was upset that I had done that and that I hadn’t gotten Kreacher’s help, but she didn’t get angry at me and she didn’t threaten to discharge me. She held my hand and reassured me and checked out my arms to make sure that nothing was infected or anything and then she talked it through with me about what exactly happened and why it happened. She always does this. Helps me talk through it properly so it isn’t one big dump of thoughts and events that come out disjointed and a big mess.      Then she brought up the idea of having a live-in therapist on top of meeting with her as well or having someone from St. Mungo’s run more sessions with me. Both ideas I shot down. I am not having a professional live-in therapist. And I will not have anyone else apart from Helen doing my weekly sessions. I told her that if I had to have a live-in, then I’d want someone I know, like you, or Neville, or someone. I’m not having a fucking stranger live in my house with me. I fucking refuse.       I don’t know what to do anymore, Draco. I feel like I may have said this a lot, but it’s true. Y’know? I really don’t know what to do. I need someone living with me, but anyone I want, I can’t have, and anyone Helen suggests, I will refuse, because I’m not having a stranger live in my house with me. So I’m a bit stuck.       At least I still have Kreacher though, right? Not for much longer though. I can see him deteriorating. It’s breaking my heart to see him like this and to see him grow slower and slower, and it hurts to know there’s nothing I can do for him. He is simply an old elf. This is going to happen to him. It’s inevitable. And then I will be alone.      But not yet. I still have him for a bit longer. Hopefully he will make it to 1999 with me. It would be nice to bring in the new year with him. Together. To show that we both made it to 1999. He probably won’t last much longer past then. But y’know. As I said, it’s inevitable that he will die soon. And I’ve accepted that. I’ve accepted that soon, I will be alone. All alone.       Hopefully I will have made more friends before Kreacher dies. Because then I can have people visit me and help out and sit with me. But if I don’t, I will be all on my own, and then shit will really get bad. As in, mouldy house, no food, no sleep, more blood, no seeing Helen. Then death. For me. So I need friends. Because I don’t think I want to die. Well, a small part of me doesn’t want to die at least. Most of me does, but there’s a part of me that really doesn’t want to die. So y’know. I’m trying.       It’s just getting hard. Really, really hard.      Till the next one.      From H.P.

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21st December 1998Malfoy,      Seeing you out and about in the muggle world I don’t think will ever be normal. In my head, you’re such a wizard that you’d never be seen in a muggle neighbourhood. But I know that that’s not true, because I saw you in the summer near Andi’s house, and now I see you in the town near me. With Astoria again. You looked so put together and smart with your jacket and trousers and shirt and a really, really nice cotton trench coat. (Which was very, very soft. I loved it.)       Also, I don’t think I’ll ever admit this to you, but the look on your face when you spotted me made me feel all warm and happy. You almost literally lit up and practically dragged Astoria over to where Miriam and I were sitting so you could say hello. Then you were so lovely to Miriam and you were so understanding when I didn’t speak much because I was nervous around Astoria, and the hug you gave me, fucking hell Draco, you literally made my day. You made me so, so happy when you came over and hugged me and chatted to me and Miriam. Quite literally an angel. You are the best ever, honestly.      Miriam, I think, fell in love with you. When you left, she was all smiles and asking if you were the boy from the family I was buying presents for, and when I said yes she got so happy. She said she saw how happy you made me, and she said she’s never seen me that happy before, so she hopes you stay in my life and keep being a reason for me to smile and be that happy in my life. I told her that I also hope you stay in my life because you really make me so happy and I don’t want to not have you in my life. Even if I don’t see you loads, I want you in my life. I don’t want to lose you. Because if I lose you, well, I don’t want to think about that.       Draco, you really make me so, so happy when you’re around. I feel better just by a little bit. It’s not much, but it’s a little bit. A little bit which grows even bigger when you hug me, because I feel so fucking safe in your hugs. It’s weird. I’ve never felt the way I do around you around anyone else. You are special, it seems. Which is weird, because you’ve never been like this before to me. I’ve never felt this way around you.       But then again, we’ve both grown up and changed. We’ve both been through a fucking traumatic war and come out the other side of it as different people. Changed men, as Ron said after it all had ended. We are changed men. We aren’t the stupid children we once were. We don’t have the chance to have stupid fights anymore. It’s so much easier to be friends, and I’m so much happier that we are friends now. That you talk to me like I’m a normal human being, and that you hug me and are happy to sit with me, even when I am an unresponsive piece of shit.      You are fucking amazing and I do not want to let you go.      The rest of the day was actually okay as well. Like, it wasn’t awful. Well, it was overwhelming as shit, but given that no-one recognised me (apart from you) and I had Miriam by my side, it was so much more bearable. She was so lovely and understanding when I didn’t talk loads because of how overwhelmed I was. She just held my arm and guided me to shops she thought would be good to buy presents in. And the shops she chose did actually have good gifts in. I got Teddy a lovely teddy bear family, I got you a gameboy (which you will hate but I will love teaching you how to use because they are brilliant!) and with Miriam’s help, I got Andi and your mum matching jewellery sets from a charity shop. I also got Helen a nice bottle of perfume, and I bought little things for Miriam and David when Miriam wasn’t looking. For Miriam, I bought a cashmere cardigan, and for David I got a book on British wildlife. Apparently, according to Miriam, he loves animals and nature and all of that, so it seemed to fit. Miriam said he didn’t have that book, so I had to get it for him.       I also got Ron, Hermione, Luna and Ginny a few small things as well. Nothing much, but special. I know they’ll love their gifts, because they’re from me, and I know they all worry about me. It will be nice for them to get gifts from me. I want to show them as well that I still care about them, even if I am a bit of a shitty friend.       Then we got coffee when all our shopping was done and we saw you, which was the best part of the day. Because you are always the best part of my day. You make me smile and you hug me like I mean something to you, and you were so nice to Miriam and you are understanding and you are just the best, Draco.       It’s a little bit annoying though now, because it’s getting harder and harder for me to differentiate Malfoy from Draco. As in the Malfoy I write these letters to. Because more and more it feels like I’m writing to Draco, not Malfoy, and because I’m seeing you more and more, I’m slowly forgetting Malfoy and replacing him with Draco. Which makes it kind of hard for me to write these letters, because Malfoy is impartial and doesn’t know who I am or the mess I am, but Draco does. And Draco is a big part of my pitiful life now. So yeah.       I’m not going to stop writing these letters. I can’t. They’re my saving grace at this point. A good way to get everything out of me when I feel like shit. And I think I will still address them to Malfoy, because he is supposed to be impartial, even if you, Draco, are the person I know and the person I have replaced Malfoy with in my head. I know you’re the same person, but you get what I mean, right? (I’m depressed. This is my depressed person logic.)      Miriam gave me some of her wrapping paper when we got back to Godric’s Hollow so I can wrap my presents up. I just finished that, actually. I wanted to get them all wrapped up and sorted into piles so my house looked a bit less pitiful. (I hope you and your mum won’t mind your Yule gifts wrapped in muggle Christmas wrapping paper.) They look nice all together under the little Yule tree in the corner of my sitting room.      Yes. I have a Yule tree. Kreacher insisted. It was yesterday, and I was attempting to read to distract myself and Kreacher took it upon himself to go and buy a tree to put up in the room. He had saved a bunch of old Yule decorations from Grimmauld Place, which were actually decent decorations (yes, it surprised me too) so when he came back with the small tree, he enlisted me to help him decorate it. It looks nice. Gives my house a bit of a warmer feel, y’know? Makes it feel less depressing than it is. Which is good. I like it. And it looks even better with all the presents underneath it. I love it a lot.       Anyway, I need to go to bed now. No, I don’t care that it’s only 5pm. I’m fucking shattered. I don’t think I anticipated just how much effort shopping would be. I thought I was prepared, but I wasn’t, and now I’m ready to crash into bed and stay there for a week staring. (Don’t worry, I won’t.) Yes, I have eaten. Kreacher made soup and bread, which was yummy. But now I’m ready to go to bed with Casper. (He returned from his week-long trip and is currently sitting on my lap.) I’m so tired, Draco. I need to SLEEP!      Thank you for today, though. Really. You have no idea how much that meant to me. How much it helped me. Thank you.      Till the next one.      From H.P.

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23rd December 1998Malfoy,      Getting up is so hard. Getting out of bed takes almost everything out of me. As soon as I stand up, I feel so weak and tired that it takes everything in me just to walk into the bathroom and not collapse back into bed.      I stayed in bed yesterday. Shopping really wiped me out. Like properly wiped me out. I slept from 5pm on the 21st to 9pm on the 22nd. Kreacher woke me up and forced me out of bed to shower and eat something before he let me go back to sleep.       Yeah, I know it’s now 5pm again. I don’t particularly care. I’m tired. So tired. My bones ache because of how tired I am. I can barely keep my eyes open.       Sorry for my shitty handwriting, by the way. It gets so much worse when I’m tired. I wouldn’t be surprised if this letter is barely readable. I just knew I had to write it, because I felt like shit. And we all know what happens when I feel like shit, and I don’t want that to happen. So here we are.      I’m going back to bed now. Well, in a bit. Kreacher made me more food. It smells kind of nice, so I better have some. Even just a little bit. To make him feel good.       Till the next one.      From H.P.

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24th December 1998Malfoy,      Miriam and David invited themselves over to mine today. They brought food. (Almost an entire Christmas dinner.) Their claim was that I was too lonely for an 18 year old guy, and they were worried about me, especially after seeing how I reacted to the shopping a few days ago. Miriam said she tried to come over yesterday to check on me, but of course, I was in bed all day. So I didn’t see her. Obviously.       Kreacher hid himself in his room while they were over, which I hated, because I hate it when Kreacher feels like he has to hide away, but I get why he did it. Miriam and David are retired and I don’t really want them both to drop dead of a heart attack in my house because they saw an elf. That would be awkward to explain to their friends and family and the police and the aurors. And I don’t fancy doing that.       I made them both tea and we sat in my sitting room (which Kreacher had luckily tidied yesterday while I was in bed, so the house wasn’t a mess, which was good) and we just chatted. We didn't really talk about anything in particular, but it also wasn’t small talk. It was nice. They told me about their family who are all coming up for Christmas. It sounds like they have a really big family, which is lovely. Reminds me of the Weasleys. Miriam said she would’ve invited me over for Christmas but because I have plans she said she won’t, but she and David would both like it if I came over one day just to sit and chat again.       David told me about his gardening as well. He loves gardening just as much as he loves wildlife. He’s built a bird box to put in the garden for the spring when all the birds migrate back. He said he would love my help when it gets warmer to sort more things out and make the garden look pretty again. I think I’d really like to help him out with it. That would be nice. A distraction. A new hobby. Plus, maybe I can learn something from him. My own garden is a mess, so it would be nice to plant some things to make it look nice. Make it look more like a garden and less like a jungle.       I really liked having them over. Even if they did invite themselves over and even if I did have to actually eat a decent plate of food because Miriam and David had cooked it together for me and I couldn’t not eat any when we all sat down together in the kitchen to eat. Because that would be rude. When they went to all this trouble for me, the least I could do was eat the food they made me. (It was fucking delicious, I did not realise they could cook this well!)       And to be honest, I’m actually glad that they invited themselves over. I was so wiped out after shopping, and I was feeling so lonely as well. I needed company, and I didn’t want to have to wait until tomorrow to get company. And Miriam and David are such wonderful people and they genuinely care about me. It’s a little bit like my grandparents live next to me. They wave at me, they talk to me, then invite me over for things even if they know I won’t attend, they brought me food and they barged into my house because they were worried about me. They’re like the grandparents I never got to have. Fuck, they’re like the parents I never got to have.       Molly was the closest person to a parent I ever got, and even she barely acted like my mother. She acted like I was some stray she had picked up at the train station. Which, to be fair, was what happened. But her love never really felt like a mother’s love. She pretended. She always pretended. Pretending she knew what was best for me or what I should do or what I needed done to me when in reality she didn’t know shit. Miriam feels more like a mother to me than Molly did. Which either means Molly was fucking awful or Miriam is an angel. Probably a combination of the two, let’s be honest.      Miriam and David have only just left. They got here at like, twelve, and they’ve only just left. They have literally spent five hours with me in my house. And all we did was eat, chat and watch TV. Well, and exchange gifts. I gave them their presents, which they both loved. Miriam put her cardigan on straight away and David got really excited over his book and proceeded to show me loads of interesting things about the wildlife in Britain. Then they gave me a wrapped parcel and said they had bought me a gift.       Draco, they’d bought me a fucking record played and filled the draw beneath it with their favourite records. They said my house was too quiet for that of an eighteen year old kid, and they thought I needed music to liven it all up a bit and to bring my spark back. (I cried because what the fuck this is such a wonderful gift.) David showed me how to work it and we put on a Christmas record and listened to Christmas carols together and then I gave them each a big hug and said thank you so, so much for this because it literally meant the world to me that they would think of me and buy me a gift.       We just sat for ages talking and drinking tea and listening to the Christmas songs. God, it was the perfect way to spend Christmas Eve. Literally perfect. They were so kind to me and they were just the best. It was so relaxing and warm and I felt at home, Draco. I felt loved and at home and warm. I felt part of a real family. It was the best day.       And you know what makes all of this even better? I get to spend tomorrow with you and Andi and Teddy and your mum. I get to have two days surrounded by people I care about and I get these two days for me and not my trauma or my mess or any of that. I get to have two good days. I get to be loved and I get to feel like part of a family. Two families. Miriam, me and David, then with all of you.       I’m not going to let my trauma or my mess ruin tomorrow. I promise. I will be good. I won’t let myself get lost or get in my head. I won’t be in a bad mood. If I get grouchy, I will take space and come back when I’ve cleared my head, because tomorrow is going to be just as wonderful as today was and I will not be responsible for spoiling Teddy’s first Yule. The first Yule celebration after the war.       It’s going to be the best Yule celebration ever. I know it. Because today was good, then tomorrow is going to be so good. We are going to have such a good time. I know it. I promise, Draco. I will see you tomorrow for a fucking brilliant day. A day without trauma and a day just full of love.       Till the next one.      From H.P.

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26th December 1998Malfoy,      Yesterday was the best day I have had in a very, very long time. Since the end of the war. I felt like I was with my family. A real family. You guys welcomed me into your family and made me feel like I was a proper part of your family, not just some depressed guy who happens to be Teddy’s godfather. You made me feel like I was wanted and like you genuinely were happy to have me with you for the celebration. I felt loved, welcome, cared for and warm. Happy. Properly happy. God, it was the best day ever.       Draco, I genuinely don’t think I can put into words how amazing I felt yesterday. There was not a single dark thought in my head. It was just happiness. Happiness in Yule.       Okay fine, I admit it, I was terrified before going in. I was so scared of how your mum would react when she saw me. Would she be all cold and bitchy? Would she straight up ignore me? Would she be angry at me? I was expecting coldness. I wasn’t expecting a fucking hug or her reassurance. (You definitely spoke to her beforehand.) I saw the shock on her face when she saw me, and at first I thought that was shock at me actually being at the house, however looking back on it now, I think her shock was more at my appearance. I had dressed up nicely, in nice trousers and a shirt and Kreacher had helped me with my hair, but you can’t hide depression with cologne and a nice shirt. (A nice shirt that was hanging off me. I’ve lost so much weight.)      And then Andi hugged me and Teddy wanted me to hug him, and then you hugged me and wished me happy Yule and I thought that nothing could be better than that. (I genuinely can’t think of anything that’s better than being in your arms. I feel so much less alone, and I feel loved and seen. I love it.)       Kreacher was over the moon as well, and I loved that. He was so happy to be in a different house with other elves to see and I think he was excited to see me socialise with other people and be properly happy for once in my now miserable life. I was happy to see him happy as well. He rarely is. He’s always worried or upset and I hate that even though it is all my fault he’s like that. I’m trying, I really am. It’s just hard.      But it’s not hard when I’m with you, because you make me feel amazing, Draco. I always feel so happy around you. Even if everything is falling down, down around me and I am a depressed piece of shit, you make me feel better by even just a little bit. I love it. I love being around you. I like the high you give me. Like a drug. Except the good kind of drug. A healing drug. Not the bad stuff. The good stuff. The best stuff. Because you’re Draco and you’ve changed and you’ve changed with me and you make me feel better and I love it.      Anyway, I’ve said it before but I will always say it again, Yule was the best day. The warmth, the love, the happiness, the gifts, the food. Draco, it was the best. I felt like part of a family. I felt really part of your family, and it was like you guys wanted me there. I wasn’t just there for Teddy, I was there for all of you and I loved it so much. You made me feel included and loved. I’ve never really felt that before. Not in the way you guys made me feel. It was different to the Weasleys. Miles and miles better than them. But don’t tell them that. They’ll just get upset.      Speaking of the Weasleys, I didn’t tell you this, but I had a letter from them this morning and a parcel too. I also had separate letters from my other friends wishing me a happy Yule, but only the Weasleys sent over a parcel. It had gifts in it for me. Which was weird. Why would they send me gifts when I haven’t spoken to them in months? Molly had knitted me a blanket as well as the usual Weasley jumper, though she hadn’t counted for weight loss, so the thing quite literally hangs off me. Bill, Charlie, Percy, George and Arthur had clumped together to buy me a collection of muggle fiction books, and Ron and Hermione had sent me a box of chocolates. It was fine. Nice of them to think of me, even if I barely thought of them. I’ve fucked up in that department, but I have you and Andi and Teddy and Narcissa now.       I had sent them a few gifts and a letter as well, but I’m worried it wasn’t enough. Like it wasn’t appreciative enough. They were simple gifts and a simple card, but it was nice. It’s the thought that counts, right?      I think that’s why Andi and Narcissa liked the gifts I had gotten for them so much. They were just crappy matching jewellery sets I found in a charity shop, but I nearly cried at Narcissa and Andi’s reaction. The way they both got so happy and put on the jewellery and hugged me and thanked me and God, Draco, I loved it.       Teddy fell in love with his teddy bear, and your reaction to the gameboy was absolutely hilarious and completely predictable. I don’t think I’ve ever laughed that hard at someone before. (All good humoured laughter, of course!) If only you could’ve seen your face! All frowny and confused and ready to go all ‘Potter what on earth is this piece of rubbish?’ You made me laugh so much!      I loved teaching you how to use it as well. Sitting there, in front of the fire, pressed right up together while I showed you how to use it. You were so confused it was brilliant! I could tell you didn’t understand, but you tried and tried to get it because I wanted to teach you how to experience muggle enjoyment for once. And when you did manage to get it, I felt over the moon. Because you hugged me so hard and lent against me while you played your first game on your own without my help and you were all smiles and laughter and hugs. I didn’t want to move from that spot, next to you by the fire, pressed against you. I felt so warm and happy. I don’t know how to describe it, Draco, but I felt like I was on top of the damn world.       And I’m proud of myself as well, because I ate a full plate of food. I saw how happy Kreacher was when he saw I ate all the food. He gave me a hug after we had finished and said I was getting there and I will be okay in the end and I am getting on okay. That made me smile. I’ve never smiled as much in one day as I did yesterday. Or laugh. Or feel happiness. I can’t get over it. I’m still riding out the high. I got out of bed early and helped Kreacher clean up because the house was messy and I cooked lunch for me and him and Casper and I wrote back to Molly Weasley asking if I can come and visit in a couple of days. (I’ll probably regret that decision but I’m still riding out the high and I want to see Ron and Hermione.)      I don’t have any regrets about yesterday. There was nothing to regret. I wasn’t a miserable fucker in the corner, I was included and involved and happy. I ate food, I had so much fun, I gave so much of myself and I’m beyond happy that I did. I’m also beyond happy and grateful that you guys let me into your family. Not even let me, you welcomed me into your family, like I was a real member. God, I felt so loved.      Don’t even get me started on the gifts you all got me. I can’t comprehend that you all thought of me and bought me a gift. All of you. What do you mean you all love me enough to fucking buy me a gift for Yule? Stop that. (Don’t. I like feeling loved. I like being part of your family. I love it so much.)       The painting from Teddy, the book from Narcissa, Sirius’ fucking jacket from Andi and the record collection from you. (How very muggle of you haha!) I can’t believe it, honestly. You all blew me away with your love, all of you. I’ve hung Teddy’s painting up on my fridge, started reading the book from Narcissa, put your records with the ones from Miriam and David, and Sirius’ jacket lives on the peg by my front door.       God, I can’t believe Andi had that jacket either. She said he used to live in that thing to piss off his parents. Which was fair enough, because they were awful. We had a painting of his mum in Grimmauld Place that would scream at everyone if her curtain fell down. We couldn’t get rid of it. Well. Until I had a screaming match with her after the war, cast the killing curse at her, and the painting fell down. She was finally quiet. (So I then burnt the painting and drank myself to sleep.)      I went to sleep yesterday feeling good. I didn’t have a nightmare either. Casper was all curled up with me and Kreacher and I had mulled wine before bed. It was delicious and made me feel even more warm before bed. I can’t even begin to express how fucking thankful I am for yesterday. Genuinely. I need to write to you all to thank you for the amazing day and for the gifts. I’ll do that when I’ve finished this letter. I do need a cup of tea first. And a biscuit. Kreacher and I baked biscuits earlier. They’re chocolate chip biscuits. I wanted to add brandy but he said no. (I think he thinks I have an alcohol problem but I don’t. I don’t drink enough to have an alcohol problem.)        I’m never going to stop saying it. That was the best Yule ever. The best DAY ever. My favourite day ever. And I already miss you all. I want to go back. Back to Andi’s sitting room sitting by your side with Teddy crawling around and your mum and Andi chatting. I want to go back to that love and warmth. That family. My house felt so cold and empty when Kreacher and I got back. But I lit the fire when Kreacher made the wine and we sat listening to the records and Casper sat on my lap, so it was better. It was warmer. But I was lonely. I miss you all. I miss it.       We should do it all again. Not necessary Yule, but just being together. As a family. We should do that again. Cuz I want it and I miss it and I loved it so much. I really want to do that all again. I felt so loved, Draco.       I’ll go and write your letters now. And make a cup of tea. And maybe later I’ll go and see Miriam and David. I can’t wait to tell Helen all about yesterday. She’ll be so happy for me and so proud of me. It was the best. The very, very best.      Till the next one.      From Harry

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28th December 1998Malfoy,      I feel like I should be upset with myself for having a go at Molly, but I really don’t. And when I say having a go, I mean having a proper go. Screaming. Shouting. I think I smashed at least two plates and three glasses. Possibly a bowl as well. God, I was so angry and it all got so intense so fast. I feel like I should feel guilty or ashamed of myself.       But the thing is, I’m not. I feel guilty about so fucking much in my life, but not this. I refuse to feel guilty over this. Sure, I’m angry that the situation got far enough for me and Molly to scream at each other and for me to smash a plate, but I don’t feel guilty. Should I? I probably should feel guilty. She’s done so much for me over the years. But I don’t know. I don’t feel guilty.       I’m upset as well, because it was so nice to start off with. (Ish.) I was right in thinking that the Burrow would be crowded. Everyone was there. Molly and Arthur, Bill and Fleur, Charlie, Percy and Oliver, George, Ron and Hermione and Ginny. Everyone. It was so crowded and overwhelming, but it was okay because Charlie came up to me when I got there and his arm was around my shoulders and he took me to the sitting room where he, George and Fleur and Ginny were chatting. So that was okay. Ginny was nice as well. She gave me a hug and said she misses me a lot and that Hogwarts isn’t the same without me there. Then she hugged me again and said I need to write more often.       It was after that where it started going downhill a bit. Oliver was surprised to see how much I had changed and was demanding to know why I wasn’t a professional Quidditch player. Molly scolded me for not writing to her more often and then scolded me for not visiting and then again for my appearance. Arthur held her back before she could start again though, which was good. He’s always been kinder to me. He gave me a hug.       Ron and Hermione, of course, gave me the biggest hugs they possibly could. They said they missed me and that Hogwarts isn’t the same without me and that they are still upset I’m not with them. Hermione said she is doing better though. Her mind healer is helping. Ron’s seeing one too. I’m glad they’re getting the help they need and deserve. That’s good.       I had to go outside after a bit, because God, there were so many people. I was so overwhelmed and I also felt like I wanted to cry. I wanted to go back to Andi’s house at Yule, with our small family and the warmth and the love. I wanted that back. The quiet love. This is too much for me now. I’ve grown used to the solitude and quietness of my life. I can’t come back to this. Not anymore.       Bill came to join me when the food was ready. He said he missed seeing me about the Burrow when he was visiting. And he wants me to visit him and Fleur one day. If I can, he said. If it’s not too much trouble. Then we went inside to eat. I was in between George and Charlie. Molly was directly opposite me. She served me a big helping of food, claiming I need to have more meat on my bones because apparently I look worse than I did back in second year when Ron and the twins broke me out of the Dursley’s place. (Yes, she said that in front of the whole family. I nearly died. Charlie quickly moved the conversation on because it was so awkward.)       Of course though, because I was overwhelmed and because everything was far too much for me, I didn’t eat. Well, I ate a little bit, but it was barely anything. A potato. A bit of meat. A carrot. Pathetic, I know, but I was struggling so hard not to fucking run from the room and apparate all the way back to Godric’s Hollow and curl up in bed. I didn’t want to be there, Draco. I had to be there, but I really, really didn’t want to. It was awful.       Charlie noticed I wasn’t eating, but instead of making a fuss, he and George just quietly took some of my food off my plate and put it onto their own. Molly didn’t notice, and if anyone else did, they didn’t comment. I was so grateful for that. The last thing I needed was Molly getting angry at me for not eating. I know her anger comes from worry, but I don’t need that from her. I get that from Helen and Miriam and David and Andi. Which is enough. I don’t need anymore, especially not from Molly.      She tried to talk about me and how I was doing but every time I brushed it off with an “I’m fine, my mind healer is helping me a lot.” Y’know. The usual bullshit. Ron and Hermione had to ruin it though by asking about you. “Are you still hanging out with Malfoy when he goes to Andromeda’s?” Yes. Yes I am. Because you’re a wonderful human who makes me feel more loved and seen than anyone ever has before.       Except I couldn’t say that. So I just said that I am because Teddy gets scared of the aurors and if I’m there, the auror isn’t. Molly, of course, got upset that I was associating myself with you. I tried to tell her that you are innocent, but of course, she didn’t want to hear it, so I just made up a lie about how I barely talk to you and I leave you to play with Teddy while I chat to Andi or vice versa. It nearly killed me to say that, Draco. Because you mean the world to me at the moment. You and Andi and Teddy and your mum. All of you mean the fucking world to me and I love you all. But I can’t tell Molly that. She will have a fit.       And then the food was all done and I said no to dessert because I couldn’t stomach anything else because I was so uncomfortable and upset. (I felt like I was going to throw up.) So we all stood up and were ready to move into the sitting room to talk more.       Well. Until I saw her clock.      Molly has this clock which has all her family members on it and it points to where each family member is. So while we were all there, everyone’s face was pointing to ‘home.’ The usual Weasleys, then Hermione and Fleur and Oliver too. Fred’s face was pointing to ‘at peace’ which nearly made me cry.      And then there was me.       My face, right there on her fucking clock, pointing to ‘home.’       That was when I dropped the first plate. My own. I was holding it ready to take into the kitchen to do the washing up, but I saw the clock and froze and dropped the plate (by accident) because why the fuck is my face even on that clock in the first place, and why was it pointing to home when I wasn’t at home.       And then the shouting started. Well, it didn’t start immediately. I asked Molly why my face was on her clock and why my face was pointing to home and she said it was because I always have been and always will be part of this family and that I am home. I belong with them, according to her. That was when I smashed the glass as well. I was holding it so tightly it shattered in my hand. Hermione tried to look at it right then and there to heal the cuts, but I didn’t give her the chance.      I told Molly that I am not part of their family and I do not belong there and I am currently not at home, and she tried to argue with me, so I just repeated what I said louder and louder until she started shouting at me as well.      She said all these things about how ungrateful I have been since the end of the war and how much of a horrible person I have been to her and the family and how even though I am horrible she still loves me like I’m her son. So of course I yelled right back at her that I’m not her fucking son. That just riled her up even more and then other people tried getting involved. Bill, Ron, Hermione and Arthur sided with Molly. Charlie, George and Ginny sided with me. Fleur, Percy and Oliver stayed well out of it.       There was so much shouting. It was mainly between me and Molly, but Charlie and Bill raised their voices to try and calm us all down and make us see sense kind of shit but that made me even angrier and my magic flared up (which was when the other crockery smashed because I needed to channel my anger because I was so fucking angry) and I was screaming and I knew I had to leave.       I ripped my face off her clock and disapparated the fuck out of there because I was not going to stay a moment longer. I then blocked all Weasleys plus Hermione from my wards. Yes, even Charlie, George and Ginny. Because I can’t be around any of them for a while. I know they’re all upset at me for how I treated Molly (even Charlie, George and Ginny, yes. They were cross at me for how I was speaking and tried to make me calm down even though they agreed with me) which is fair enough. I was horrible to her. I guess I’ve lived up to the ungrateful and horrible person she has painted me as, huh.       I don’t particularly care though. She had no right adding me to that fucking clock and calling me her son. I am not her fucking son. I am the son of Lily and James Potter and no-one else. Molly has not even a patch on those two. I don’t care that they never got to be real parents. They were my parents. They ARE my parents and I love them and Molly has no fucking right to call me her son. I do not belong with her or her family in that busy house with that chaos. I belong right here, in Godric’s Hollow with Casper and Kreacher. I also occasionally belong at Andi’s house. Maybe even at Helen’s office and in Miriam and David’s house. But not at the Burrow. Not anymore.      I didn’t even belong there in the first place. Not really. I was never part of that family. I was never her son. I never belonged there. I always belonged here. I just needed to find it again. The safety and the quiet that is here. This is where I belong.      God, Draco, I just want you here right now. I was in such a state when I got back home. Kreacher was terrified I was going to lock myself in the bathroom and try to kill myself again. He warded off the spare room and let me go in there to let loose my magic and my rage. I would’ve destroyed the house had it not been for his wards. I was so fucking angry, Draco. I was fuming.       And then all my magic and anger was gone because I was so weak and tired and I nearly collapsed in that room. But I came out and lay on the sofa and Kreacher got me a blanket and a hot chocolate and Casper curled up next to me and I cried and cried and cried and Kreacher just held my hand and listened and gave me a hug. And I cried myself to sleep right then and there on the sofa, wishing that you were with me to hold me and tell me that it’s okay and that I’m allowed to feel like this. Because your arms make me feel so, so safe, Draco. I just wanted you there to hold me. I needed you.       When I woke up, I was in bed. Kreacher had put me to bed and Casper was lying beside me and I was so tired. I am tired. I am so, so tired. And weak and angry and upset. At myself and at Molly. I hate it, I hate it so much. And I wanted to cut myself so badly to get rid of all the guilt and the hate and anger and upset. But I didn’t. I got out of bed and I sat at my desk and I started writing this letter. Because I write letters to you to cope. Because cutting is bad. Self harm is bad. I need to stop doing it.       Kreacher came in a couple of minutes ago. He hasn’t disturbed me. But he gave me a cup of chamomile tea. It tastes nice. He’s sitting on the chair by my bed reading. I think he heard me get up and saw my light on and was probably scared about what I was going to do. So he brought me tea and is sitting to wait until I’m done. Then he’ll sit with me more and ask if I want to talk about it and I will say no, but can we talk until I fall asleep again.       That’s what we’ve done a few times. He has come in and brought me tea and asked if I want to talk, so we talk about pointless things until I fall asleep again. Fall asleep alone. I’m sick of being alone. I want you here, Draco. I want your arms around me so badly. I just want you to hold me. You don’t even have to speak. Being in your arms is the safest place for me. Because you make me feel safe and loved and seen and cared for. You hold me like I mean something to you and like I’m not some fragile thing about to fall apart at the smallest touch.      You are real, to me. So many things around me feel fake, but you feel real. And I want you to be here. With me. So I can feel warm and loved and so I don’t have to be alone all the time because I hate being alone, Draco. I hate it so much. I hate feeling so lonely and so on my own because it is sucking the life out of me and soon there will be nothing left of me. When Kreacher dies, I won’t be far behind him. I can guarantee that. I will fall apart completely.      I just want you here, Draco. I want your hugs. I want your arms around me. Because I fucked up with Molly. I fucked up so badly. And I will apologise. Even though I don’t feel guilty. And I will talk to Helen about it all tomorrow. Because I need to. Because nothing is right. Nothing. Apart from you. You and Andi and your mum and Teddy. And Miriam and David and Helen. That’s it. But I don’t see you all enough for it to counteract all the bad. All the wrong.       I hate this so much. I hate it. And I don’t know how to fix it. I need help. I need to not be alone all the time. I don’t know what to do anymore, Draco. I really don’t.      Till the next one.      From Harry

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30th December 1998Draco,      I miss you.       I wish you were here right now.       It’s so hard. I’m so alone. It’s cold and dark and everything is pressing in on me and I just wish you were here. I miss you. I miss your warmth and your hugs and your goddamn smile. I miss you. I wish you were here, with me. Maybe you could make me feel better.       I miss you. I miss you so much.      Till the next one.      From Harry

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1st January 1999Draco,      I made it. 1999. What the fuck. I’m here, in the new year. (Ha, that rhymed. Look at me go.)      I don’t really know how to feel about this. I guess I should feel proud of myself. Kreacher said he’s proud of me for making it this far without killing myself. And I guess I am kind of proud of myself for getting to this point. I mean, we all know I wasn’t expecting to. I thought I was going to die back on the 2nd of May last year. In the war. But I didn’t, and now it’s 1999 and I have my whole damn life ahead of me.      I could get a job, meet someone, get married, have kids, celebrate, live until I’m old and tired with all my grandkids running around me. I could die at 90. So why do I keep trying to make myself die at 18? Part of me knows I should die, because I wasn’t supposed to live past the war (my whole purpose was literally to die defeating Voldemort) yet the other part of me knows that I have years and years ahead of me and I could be so, so happy with so many people and so much love.       Well anyway. I’m here. I’m alive. That’s what matters, isn’t it? Plus, Helen said if I made it to the new year, she would bring in her dog to our sessions. She’s got a golden labrador and apparently, he is very friendly. So I get to see her dog on Tuesday. I’m going to write to her in a moment to tell her I made it and to hold her to her promise to bring her dog. His name is Popcorn apparently, which I think is a really cool name.      Miriam and David invited me over for the new year celebrations. I wanted to stay with Kreacher, because I felt bad leaving him on his own, but he said he had plans with some other elves, and he said I needed to get out of the house and spend more time with other humans. So I went over to Miriam and David’s. They were very pleased to see me. They had a couple of their other friends round from the village. I recognised a few from the party they had back in September and they recognised me. No-one said anything about my appearance, which was good. I think I might have died if one of them mentioned anything.       We all had Buck’s Fizz and David had put Jools Holland’s Hootenanny on the telly. I’ve never watched the Hootenanny before, but I absolutely loved it! We were all dancing to the songs and chatting and Miriam had made picky bits and snacky bits, like back at the party in September. It was actually really lovely and I felt right at home, almost. I didn’t feel awkward or out of place, I felt like I was surrounded by my friends. Even though everyone there was over the age of 50. I felt right.       Then we all stood in a circle and counted down with the people on the Hootenanny to bring in the new year and when Auld Lang Syne came on, we had our arms crossed and hands linked and sang together. (Because even if I have lived disconnected from the muggle world for so long, I do remember my old muggle traditions.) There were lots of hugs and kisses on the cheek and David gave everyone a new glass of champagne because he said we deserved it.       Draco, I had so much fun with them. It was like back at Yule, except with friends not family. I didn’t have a single dark thought. I was happy, for fucks sake. I was over the damn moon.       I will admit, I wasn’t as happy as I should’ve been, but that was because you weren’t there. And I wanted to spend the new year with you. But I know you had plans with your mum and I know Andi had plans with a few other people in her village. She had invited me over, but that was after I had said yes to Miriam and David, and I know Miriam and David care about me a lot, so I couldn’t turn down their offer after saying yes. Besides, I wanted to be with them. They’re practically my grandparents and they do mean a lot to me. They always wave at me and check in on me sometimes. And spending the new year with them was absolutely wonderful. Even if I did want to be with you too.       But I made it. I’m alive, Draco. I’m fucking alive! I am proud of myself for making it this far as well, because it’s been really, really fucking difficult. And I know I’m not over it yet at all, I’ve barely begun the climb out of my pit. But I made it to 1999, and that’s all that matters at the moment.       I can’t wait to see you in the new year. I’ll help Kreacher clean up and invite you all over to Godric’s Hollow. I feel like it’s only fair. We can’t keep going to Andi’s place every time. Plus, I want Teddy to see my house. When it’s tidy and doesn’t look like a depression hole.       I know it’s going to be hard this next year. It’s going to be awful. But I want to make it. I want to get better. For your sake. For Teddy’s sake. For my sake. For me. I want to get better. I need to. How can I live a full life if I don’t get better? Because I want that big, full life. I know I want to die at the same time, but more and more of me wants the big life with a job and a partner and kids and grandkids. I really want that. And I’m going to fucking work for it. I’ll put the effort in, I promise. I’ll get better.       I will make it to 2000. I WILL!      Till the next one.      From Harry

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15th January 1999Draco,      I nearly wrote 1998 there, I can’t lie. It’s still so strange that it’s 1999. Almost a new century. How cool is that?      Anyway, I know I haven’t written in a while, but that’s not a bad thing. Because this time, instead of not writing cuz I was lying in bed after a suicide attempt, this time I wasn’t writing because I’ve been having a half decent time of it. Ish. You know?       I’ve been going over to Miriam and David’s house almost every day for ‘coffee time’ (a tea/coffee and cake break at 11am) and we’ve been going on walks together with their dog, who is very sweet. Her name is Lucy and she loves me a lot. I went round to Andi’s once more as well to see her and Teddy and that was nice. Teddy was very happy to see me. He’s crawling everywhere now, it’s so sweet. Miriam and David have come over to mine as well a couple of times. I’ve cooked for them each time. They’ve said they really like my cooking. I’ve been doing more of the cooking recently. Kreacher is really slowing down. You can tell he’s an old elf. He walks slower too. I can tell it’s almost his time to go.      My last two sessions with Helen have gone well, as well. Her dog, Popcorn, absolutely adores me, which is good because I love him. He climbs into my lap and licks my face and lets me hug him when I need reassurance in Helen’s sessions. She said she’s very proud of me for making it to the new year and for keeping going this long. She said she can see subtle changes in me. Apparently I look lighter. Not just physically, because we all know I’ve lost way too much weight, but mentally. Like I’m a little bit happier in my day to day life. And I feel like I am, as well. I do feel happier in my day to day life.       Really, all of this is thanks to Yule, I guess. I just had such a wonderful time that not even the catastrophe that was visiting the Weasleys could make me fall down even further. So thanks to you, Andi, Teddy and Narcissa for making that change in my life. You’ve all helped me more than you can even begin to realise.       Speaking of falling down, I realised this morning that I haven’t actually cut myself in a month. I think that’s the longest I’ve gone without self harming, and I’m really proud of myself for that. It’s a big milestone for me. One month may not sound like much, but for a guy whose only coping mechanism was slicing his arms to ribbons, one month is practically a lifetime. Sure, I’ve had thoughts of doing it, but I haven’t actually acted on those thoughts. And that’s what matters. I can’t wait to tell Helen it’s been a month. She’ll be so damn proud of me.       I hope you’re proud of me too. I know you, Draco in real life, don’t know that I do this, but I mean you, Draco in the letters, should be proud of me. You’ve seen how awful it has been. One month. You better be proud of me. This is a huge achievement. I might celebrate with alcohol later. (Or I won’t, because Kreacher is still half convinced I have an alcohol problem. I don’t. But I guess after drinking myself into oblivion once or twice has made him think that I do have one.)       Okay fine, so it hasn’t all been sunshine and rainbows these past couple of weeks. It has been hard. I haven’t really gotten any better with my eating problem. I eat when Miriam and David are over, and I nibble at shit I make just so Kreacher is happy, but I’ve lost so much weight. It’s really not good. I look like a kid dressed up in adult’s clothes, almost. It’s pathetic. And the nightmares too. They’re not as awful as they used to be, but they’re still bad. They still make me cry.      I’ve been having this one recurring nightmare recently. I’m running and running and running and I’m being chased. I’m not sure what I’m being chased by, but I know in the nightmare that it’s getting closer and closer and I always wake up just before it catches me. It’s really scary. Like really scary. I always wake up sweating cuz I’m so scared of whatever it is that’s chasing me. Sure, I have no idea what it is, but I just know it’s bad and I need to run. But I can never run fast enough and it always catches up to me. But I wake up before it can physically catch me.       I don’t know if this nightmare is symbolic of something, like Death trying to catch me, or if it’s one of those magical dreams where if I get caught in the nightmare, I won’t wake up, or whatever. But it scares the shit out of me, Draco. I hate it so much. I’ve had a few others too, about people dying and about the war and about being abandoned, but this one is almost every night. It’s terrifying. I hate it.      There’s this other one too. This one is the worst, I think. It’s all of you guys (you, Andi, Teddy and Narcissa) saying how much you hate me and that I was only over for Yule because you all felt sorry for me. But you hate me. You all said it to me that you hate me. And then I tried to talk to you but you were all dead. Without saying anything else. You were all just dead. So after screaming at me saying you all hate me and you hate how I act and behave and hate how fucked up I am, you just die. Right in front of me. Drop dead. Leaving me alone as well. Miriam, David and Helen are there too. Telling me they hate me and that it would be easier if I just died too.       I always wake up crying after that one. Because part of me still doesn’t really believe that all of you love me and want me to be around. I’m too fucked up for that. So to see it right in front of me, in this nightmare, makes it feel so much more real, then Kreacher has to convince me in the morning that it was just a stupid nightmare and that you all do love me, my mind just is playing tricks on me. I hate it. I want to see you properly so I know that Kreacher is telling the truth and that you don’t all hate me.      It sucks so much that I didn’t get to see you before you went back to Hogwarts. I really wanted to see you one more time, but I know you were busy and I get that, I really do. It was nice to get your letters though. I like receiving letters from you. Your handwriting is all loopy and cursive and pretty. And your words always make me smile. It’s like I can hear your voice speaking when I read your letters, and that makes me happy. I just now need to be careful that I don’t accidentally send you one of these letters in reply. Because that would be fucking awful. I can’t have you reading these. These are mine and mine alone. No-one else touches them.      Ugh, maybe I’ll have to go back to addressing these letters to Malfoy. I don’t want to do that but I might have to. I’ll try not to though. Not unless I really need to. I’ll be careful and I won’t mix shit up. I’ll make sure to never send you one of these letters and to only send you ones that are proper letters replying to what you said in your last one. Otherwise I’m fucked. I could use different paper, to be fair. To tell the difference, y’know? Leave this stuff on the blank paper and write you back on lined paper. I think that’s the best thing to do. That way I can keep addressing these letters to Draco and not to Malfoy. Because I prefer Draco to Malfoy and these letters are so personal. I don’t want to write to Malfoy anymore when I have Draco. You know what I mean, right?       It’s not been awful. It’s not been the best, but it’s not been awful. 1999 has started off well and I hope this is a representation of how the rest of the year goes. I just have to keep working hard and pushing myself and making myself get better. Because I need to get better. I have to. And I do want to. Some of me really, really wants to get better. So I’m going to try my hardest to properly get better and properly recover. I need to. I really do. Especially if Kreacher is going to die soon.       Maybe I can come and visit you up  in Hogsmeade soon. I’d really like to do that. Maybe I can meet Blaise and Pansy too. You always talk so highly of them. It would be nice to meet them properly. I’ll write to you and ask in a minute. I think that would be nice. And it would be good for me as well. Y’know, to get out of the house and go further than Helen or Andi’s house. And no, we are not going into Hogwarts. Just to Hogsmeade. I’m not ready for Hogwarts. Especially not after last year’s fiasco. I need more time for that. But I’d like to visit you in Hogsmeade. And maybe you can come to my house too one day. I’d make sure it was all nice and tidy for you. That would be nice. That would be good. Very good.       I’m going to go and make a cup of tea now and write to the real you about Hogsmeade and then I’ll make me and Kreacher some food. I am actually quite hungry right now. (I can’t remember the last time I ate. It’s so bad.)       Till the next one.      From Harry

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22nd January 1999Draco,      I went to visit my mum and dad’s grave today. I miss them and I wanted to visit their grave because I really miss them.       Is it weird to miss people you never really got to know? Because I only had my parents for a year of my life before they were killed and I was locked in my aunt and uncle’s cupboard. And I have no memories of the year I had them. Why would I? I was a fucking baby.       I miss what I could’ve had, I think. The love mostly. Being part of a real family. Because my aunt and uncle never treated me as if I was a part of their family. I was just some inconvenience who was in their way. I wasn’t loved. Not one ounce of love was given to me when I lived with my aunt and uncle. Nothing. It was pathetic. Especially considering they doted on dear Duddykins. I was ignored.       Helen says this has caused a huge lack of development in me. Because I wasn’t loved or properly cared for in the key period of my life, I am stunted in growth. Mental and physical. Which is fair enough. The Dursley’s fucked me over enough, why not fuck me over so much that I’m never going to function as a normal person?      I’m just glad I never have to see them again. They were bastards. They lied to me. Draco, they told me my parents died in a fucking car crash. I didn’t know I was a wizard until I was 11 and Hagrid broke into our house.      David saw me coming out of the graveyard. He was worried about me because I was crying and he put his arm around my shoulders and led me back to his and Miriam’s house because he said I shouldn’t be alone when I’m grieving so hard. I asked him if he and Miriam knew my parents at all, but they moved in after it all. A few years after it all. So they didn’t know my mum and dad at all.       He made me a cup of tea and gave me a slice of the chocolate cake he had baked this morning. He said I deserved it because I’m struggling and I’ve made it this far. Miriam was out visiting a friend, so she wasn’t in to wrap me in a hug and kiss my cheek in that way that grandmas do. So Lucy took her place. She sat in my lap when I sat on the floor by the fire in their sitting room and licked my face. She refused to move while I was there. So I sat and chatted with David for a bit. He was asking about my parents and asking about what happened to them and what happened to me.       I told him my parents were murdered by someone and I was sent to my aunt and uncle's house. Which is what happened. I just left out all the magic. Cuz, y’know. Secrecy. We don’t like to share, apparently. But that’s whatever.      I’m going to sound like a broken record again here, but Draco, I wish you were there with me. On the sitting room floor in David’s house with your arms around me. Because you always make me feel better. Lighter. Warmer. More loved. I always feel more loved around you. You have that effect. It’s not a bad thing. I’ve gone almost my whole life without feeling this loved. It’s a good thing, Draco.       At least I get to see you tomorrow. I’m excited to see you up in Hogsmeade and I’m excited to meet Blaise and Pansy and Millicent properly. Well, I mean I’m nervous as shit and half of me really doesn’t want to see them at all in case they are awful. But from what you’ve told me, they sound wonderful. They sound like brilliant friends and I am looking forward to meeting them. Not as much as I’m looking forward to seeing you, but I am looking forward to meeting them. It will be good. It will be so good.       I am also nervous in case I see Ron and Hermione and that lot up there. I didn’t hear from them at all after my disastrous visit to the Burrow. No, that’s a lie, Hermione sent me a letter on New Year’s Day, but it literally just said something like ‘happy new year, I hope you have a good one, love Hermione.’ Basic shit. Pathetic, really. Ginny sent me a proper letter though, which was nice. She said she misses me. I’ve told her I’ll be up tomorrow, so she might come over and say hello, but I don’t know if she’s told Hermione and Ron. She saw how they were when I went to the Burrow.       If I’m being completely honest, I don’t really want to see Ron and Hermione. I want tomorrow to be all about you and your friends and spending time with you. I don’t want to see them. Not after how they treated me at the Burrow and then ignored me afterwards.       I just want to see you, Draco. I miss you. I miss you a lot. I haven’t seen you since Yule and I don’t really think that’s fair. Because you mean a bloody lot to me and I don’t want to lose you. Yes, I understand you’re busy and you have NEWTs and all of that, but don’t forget me. Don’t leave me behind. Please, I’m begging you. You make life seem so much more bearable when you’re around, and I can’t lose that I can’t lose you. I don’t want to. You mean so much to me. And I love being around you and seeing you and just being with you. You make everything seem better. Easier. Happier.       Don’t leave me behind. Don’t abandon me, please. I hate being alone. I hate it. I want to be loved and you make me feel loved.       When it’s summer and there are loads of flowers about, I’m going to get some and put it on my mum and dad’s grave. Make it look nice. They deserve it. They deserve flowers. See? Now I have to make it at least to summer. So I can give my parents some flowers. If I never got to in their life, the least I can do is get them flowers in their death.       Kreacher has just put on one of the records you got me. It’s the Elton John one. It sounds nice. It makes the house sound less empty and lonely. I’ll go and sit with him now. I like sitting with him. I like his company. It’s almost the best company. We know each other, me and Kreacher. He’ll have made tea. Herbal stuff. He likes the herba stuff best. I prefer normal builder’s tea, but I don’t mind herbal tea. It’s calming. Nice. Warm.        Like you.      Till the next one.      From Harry

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23rd January 1999Draco,      I think you have very quickly become my favourite person in the whole world. I was so nervous waiting in the Hog’s Head for you and your friends, because I had absolutely no idea what would happen and what they would do, but then you were next to me and you had your arm over my shoulders and a huge smile on your face and I felt ten thousand times better already. Literally just because you were there and you were hugging me and you were fucking happy to see me.       You make me happy, Draco. More than anyone has. Ever. Pretty much. I feel like that should be a problem, or tell me something about how loveless my past was, but I don’t really care. You make me happy. That’s what matters, to be honest. That’s all that matters. And I prefer this over how we used to behave to each other. We were awful to each other when neither of us deserved it. But now we’ve grown up and we’re friends and I feel closer to you than I do to any of my other friends. (Again, that probably is a problem, but who am I to care? You are one of the only people I see, so y’know. It’s fine. It’s okay.)      I will admit though, that even by your side, I was still super nervous to meet your friends. It was okay standing at the bar ordering the butterbeer, because I was just with you, but it was so much more real when we turned around and BOOM there they were. Pansy, Blaise and Millicent, sitting in a booth together, chatting away as if they had nothing else to care about. God, I wanted the ground to swallow me up and I wanted to run far, far away from there. (They intimidated me a lot, okay? I was scared. And it didn’t help that all of them are bloody gorgeous. That made it even worse.)      You were fucking lucky I didn’t spill the drinks or book it from the pub. Even though every inch of me was screaming to run away, I think I stayed mostly because of you. Because you wanted to introduce me to your friends, and you wanted me to like them and them to like me. What was it you said in your letter? Something like ‘I want all the people who are important to me to get along. I want everyone I care about to be friends.’ (Yes, that made me cry when I read it. I vaguely knew you cared about me but to say I am important to me? Fucking hell, Draco. Don’t do that to a man whose emotions are already frazzled and fragile.)      Except I had no need to be nervous at all, because Blaise and Pansy and Millicent were fucking angels. No literally, they were so kind to me. They were so happy to meet me and Blaise shook my hand and Millie and Pansy kissed my cheeks and they welcomed me into their little group. Into your little group. None of them pressured me into speaking if I was overwhelmed, and when I wasn’t able to follow along, they slowed down and backtracked and re-explained it all and Jesus Christ, Draco, they were like my friends. Real friends. They weren’t all cold and bitchy, they welcomed me and brought things to my level without belittling me or making me feel like shit.       Sitting there, in the pub with you and your friends and butterbeer made me feel so warm. Warm and happy and loved. Like I did back at Yule, but this was in a friend way, not a family way. Friendship love, if that makes sense. I was included and loved. And I did nearly cry when Pansy apologised for trying to throw me to the wolves. But it was okay because Blaise and Millie made me laugh when they said thanks for saving our sorry arses. And it was all so much better because you were right there, next to me, smiling and looking happy.       I think you picked up on my nervousness when we left the pub though, to go shopping. I think you saw it. Not that I’m complaining, I mean. I like it when you have your arm over my shoulders. It makes me feel safe and so much less alone. Though I hated the stares we were getting just cuz we were walking like that. Some people, honestly. I hate the general public.       Shopping was a lot of fun though. It was so different to when I last was up in Hogsmeade, going shopping with Ron and Hermione and that gang. You guys had a plan and specific things you needed to buy, but the Gryffindors just haphazardly shop without a plan, just there for the fun of it. Which is fair enough. I like shopping both ways. When I was younger, I liked shopping haphazardly because it showed me that I did have freedom and money and I could do stuff on my own. But now I like the plan. The schedule. I like knowing where to go and when to go. Mostly because I barely go anywhere, but then I have an idea of what’s happening and what to prepare for. And I need to be prepared. I always need to be prepared. Because you never know what could happen.       Also, I don’t know what I should’ve expected when we bumped into Ron and Hermione and Ginny and Luna. I think half of me expected smiles and hugs, but I wasn’t expecting that much of a hostile reaction. Being straight up ignored by my best friends, and then getting into a shouting match with Ron because he still isn’t over what happened at the Burrow.       Draco, something in me broke when I was standing there with Ron and Hermione. Like, they are my best friends in the whole world. The first people to show me love in the Wizarding World, the people who stuck with me throughout everything that was thrown into my path. They are the people who mean the fucking world to me. And now? Now apparently, I mean nothing to them. Because I am depressed and I don’t write so obviously I don’t care and obviously I hate Molly now and I am a shitty person and a shitty friend.       They are the most important people in the world to me, but I don’t think I’m important to them anymore. Draco, I think they hate me. I think they’re sick of me and sick of my fucked up life and mind and I think they don’t want anything to do with me anymore. Because that’s what it fucking sounded like back in Hogsmeade. In the shouting match that ended a wonderful trip out in a fucking awful way, leaving me in tears wanting to run home and lock myself in the bathroom.       Except I didn’t do that. Because as soon as Ron and Hermione stormed off, you were right there pulling me into a hug and holding me while I tried to pull myself together. You were so kind to me. Kinda ironic, isn’t it? The guy who used to be my school rival comforting me after the guys who were my best friends had made me cry.       Yes, okay, I had Luna and Ginny there, apologising for Hermione and Ron and they gave me hugs and comforted me and reassured me that Ron was being a little bitch about it all. But what Ginny said really hit me, I can’t lie. Broke me a little. Y’know, what she said about how Ron feels pushed aside and ignored and replaced. Replaced by YOU. And I think that would explain a lot. But also, no-one could ever replace Ron. I love him and he means so much to me, he’s my best friend. You, Draco, you’re different. You’re special. But you’re not my best friend. That’s Ron. He always has been and I hate that I’ve made him feel this way, but he hasn’t exactly been a comforting mate.       It’s awful. It’s all awful. I need to write to him to explain everything because I hate being like this with him and Hermione. I love them both to bits and I can’t be like this with them. I can’t let them think that I hate them and that I don’t care for them, because I do care for them and I love them both immensely. More than anything.       God, I need to make it up to them. I need to show them that I do love them. I don’t want them to think like this because it’s not true! I’m just struggling a lot! I’m struggling with my depression, my trauma, my PTSD and all of that. I’m struggling not to kill myself or cut myself, I struggle to write these letters sometimes! I struggle to look after myself. I struggle to perform basic hygiene or eat basic foods or step outside of my fucking house. I struggle to get out of bed.       And I don’t think they realise this. I don’t think they realise just how bad it actually is for me. (Yes, I know I said the last couple of weeks have been bearable, but that doesn’t mean it stops. I’m not cured. It just means that it gets harder sometimes.)       Well, other than all that, I actually had a really lovely day with you and Millie, Pansy and Blaise. You all made me feel so welcome and loved and I had the best time. I’m glad I made a good ‘first’ impression to your friends, and I’m glad we got along.       And I’m glad you accepted my apology. Because I know I cannot be forgiven for what I did to you, back in sixth year. I am a fucking monster to do that to you. Well, I’m a monster anyway, but to slice open someone who is crying in a school bathroom is fucking unforgivable. That curse should be an unforgivable. But I’m glad you accepted my apology. Hardly a day goes by where I don’t think about what I did to you. I’ve had dreams where you’ve been lying there in a pool of blood and it won’t stop and you just keep bleeding and bleeding and I can’t help you and no-one comes to help. And then you die in my arms and I wake up crying.       I am sorry. More than sorry. Sorry doesn’t even begin to cover it. If I could go back and redo that scene, I would. If I could stop myself from nearly killing you, I would. Except I can’t do that, so knowing you have accepted my apology makes living a little bit easier. (You made it a lot easier with the hug you gave me afterwards, though. I could live off your hugs. You make me feel practically normal when you hug me. Loved, cared for, safe. I never want to leave your arms.)       I’m going to go to sleep now though, because I’m fucking shattered. I’m not used to doing that much in a day, so yes, even though it’s only six pm, I am going to bed. (Yes, I have eaten. Kreacher made soup and bread with cheese.) I’ll write to you again though. The real you. I’ll do that tomorrow and thank you again for today, because it was the best day. It was so good, Draco. So good.      Till the next one.      From Harry

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27th January 1999Draco,      Just when I start thinking that things are starting to get better, it all slides back downwards again. Down the slope I am trying my damn hardest to get up. And I was getting up. For a bit. I was climbing up slowly, ever so slowly and things were getting a little bit better.      Until they don’t. Until you come to a hitch, a distraction, and you lose your hold on the slope and go sliding all the way back down to the bottom. And then instead of getting better, you’ve become much worse.       Helen said yesterday that it was three steps forward, two steps backwards. That’s how recovery works. You push yourself so fucking far and you get miles, but then you fall backwards because of a small thing that puts a bend in your road. An unexpected twist. But you’re always taking one step forward. You’re only losing two steps. But it feels like I’ve gone three steps forwards then twenty steps backwards.       After getting back from seeing you all at Hogsmeade on the 23rd, after eating my soup and bread, I went to bed. And then I didn’t get out of bed until Kreacher forced me out of bed yesterday to go and see Helen. Because he now refuses to let me miss them, even if I do feel like a pile of hot and steamy shit.        It’s all gone backwards. So, so far backwards. Further backwards than I can see. I’ve slid so far down the slope again. And you know I’ve slid so far down the slope, because after getting back from Helen’s yesterday, I found my razor again. God, I was doing so well. So well! A couple more weeks and I would’ve made it to 2 months. But not anymore. We are back at square one.       Don’t worry, I didn’t do loads. It was a bit, a few lines, then Kreacher came in and he grabbed it out of my hand and held me while I cried and told me I can’t do this anymore and I need to stop because it’s not right. He helped clean me up and put me to bed with a cup of tea and a book and he sat next to me and read to me. He says I’m too lonely down here. He says I need more friends. He says being this lonely isn’t normal for a guy my age.       Well, I know that. That’s all anyone ever tells me. That I’m too lonely. And I get it, okay? I am too lonely. But I don’t know the first thing about making friends. I hate leaving the house, how am I supposed to make friends? Find my people? Find a lover?       I hate it, Draco. God, I hate it so fucking much. I’ve become stuck in a hole all through my own doing. Through no fault but my own, I am back down here, at the bottom of the slope, down, down, down in the blackness.       I hate it. I hate that I’m like this. I hate myself for being like this. Because why couldn’t I just have been fucking normal? I hate how everything seems to be sliding back down, down, down, down, down. All the way down. It’s so bad, Draco. It’s so bad. I hate it.       Maybe I should’ve gone back to Hogwarts in September. Sure, it would’ve been absolute hell at first, but maybe there I would’ve had proper support and being surrounded by people all the time might’ve helped. Down here, in Godric’s Hollow, I have my house elf, my cat, my two elderly neighbours, my mind healer, Andi and Teddy. That’s it. That’s who I communicate with. I don’t even talk to shopkeepers because Kreacher does all the shopping through his elf means. His elfy ways. Draco, I am all on my own.       Kreacher said I should join a club. A youth group or something down here. He said muggles are always putting clubs on. There has to be a youth group on, or a club. Something I can go to to find friends. Find people. So I can stop being so goddamn lonely all the time. He said I should ask Miriam and David when I next see them. Although I don’t know when I will see them again, because they’ve gone away to visit their family in the West Midlands. They said a week, but David said they always get carried away with their family. They left on Monday. Two days ago.       Kreacher even suggested going to church. Muggle church. There’s a little chapel near the graveyard, but I’ve never gone anywhere near there. Kreacher said that I can find a community in a church. I can find friends, healing and forgiveness. I have never been to church. Uncle Vernon said that religion and the church was a load of bollocks, and Aunt Petunia said that the church was a scam wanting to take all of your money and was filled with nothing but greedy old people.      Miriam and David go to church. Every Sunday morning, at 10am, the bells are ringing and they head on over to the chapel for the service. They asked me once if I do church, and I said no, and we left it at that.       I wonder if God would accept me if I went. I mean, I am a wizard. Magic. A human having magic defies everything that Christianity stands for. Because to Christians, magic isn’t a thing. There’s God’s divine self, and Jesus’ miracles. So given that, as a wizard, I am defying everything about Christianity, do you think God and Jesus would accept me into their home? Into the church? Do you think they would let me find peace? I mean, after all those fucking sins I have committed, they’d probably send me straight to hell. If such a place exists. I can join old Voldy down there. And Dumbledore. Probably Snape. And Pettigrew, and all those other Death Eaters. Wouldn’t that be fun? (Please, please note the sarcasm, Draco, please.)      Maybe I could just go in there. It’s unlocked all day. I’ve seen people go in and out as they please for individual and private prayer. They always look happier when they come out. They look freer. As if a weight has been taken off their chest simply by praying to God. Maybe I could try that.       Or maybe I will be rejected, and I will come out feeling heavier than ever before, and everything will be weighing me down so much, down, down, down. And then everything will fall apart again. Everything already is falling apart again. Because I didn’t make it to two months. Because Ron and Hermione are angry at me. Because I am all alone and I have nothing.       I am a shell of who I once was. That’s something else Molly said, back when I visited. I am a shell of the boy I used to be. She said I’ve lost all my life. All my purpose. She thinks I should’ve gone to Hogwarts. But it’s too late for that. I can’t catch up with four months of work. A year and four months of work. I don’t have the mind for that. I’ve lost it all, Draco. It’s all gone. Faded away into nothingness. Much like I have. Gone. Faded away into nothingness. A shell of who I used to be.       I think I’m going to go back to bed. All these thoughts in my head are a bit too overwhelming for me right now. I want to go to bed. I’m so tired, Draco. I’m so heavy and tired. I could sleep for weeks. Weeks and weeks.      Till the next one.      From Harry

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3rd February 1999Draco,      I went to see Andi and Teddy today and Andi asked me if I wanted to move in with her and Teddy. She said she knows how lonely I get up in Godric’s Hollow, and she said there’s a mind healer’s office down here, and there’s a muggle youth group near her house and the pub down the road is hiring for bar staff so I could get a job. She said she worries about me all on my own, and she thinks I need more company around me. And she misses me. She and Teddy. They miss me.      What she didn’t say is that she is extremely worried about me. She didn’t need to say it. I am very good at telling when people are worried about me now, and how worried they are about me. And she is very worried. She held me for longer than she usually does when she hugs me, she was asking me if I was okay a lot, she kept offering me cups of tea and biscuits and sandwiches. She’s far too worried about me for her own good.       I can’t cope with her being this worried about me. It’s overwhelming. I don’t need people to worry about me because I am perfectly fine here on my own with the few people I visit every now and again.       No I’m not.      I always talk about how I feel so lonely, but realistically, I can’t leave Godric’s Hollow. I can’t move in with Andi. I don’t think I’d be able to cope with that. Sure, it would be nice to see her and Teddy more often, but I can’t leave my house. I can’t leave Miriam and David and Helen and my mum and dad behind.       But I have a feeling moving to Andi’s house will be good for me. I can be around people more often. I can join this youth group, I can get a job and work, I can work on myself. I won’t be so alone. But I can’t do that, Draco. I can’t do that. I’m not going to leave all this behind. I’ve built a life for myself here. Sure, it’s a pretty shitty life, but it’s MINE.       I’m going to talk to Helen about this when I next see her, because yes, I want to move, but I don’t want to and I can’t move. It’s too much.       Maybe I could write to you for real to see what you would think. Though I have a feeling you will tell me that it’s a brilliant idea and that I won’t be so lonely all of the time and that I will finally get to experience genuine familial love day in, day out. That’s what you’d say, I know it. Maybe I should stay over there a few times though. Once a week, kind of thing. I don’t know. I just don’t want Andi to be all bogged down by me and my depression. Because I am depressed. More depressed than I really realised, I think. Helen keeps mentioning potions that can help me with my depression, but I always say no. I can’t be dependent on potions for the rest of my life. And I don’t want artificial happiness, or a drugged sleep. I want REAL happiness and REAL sleep. I want to live for REAL. Not just because I’m stuffed full with potions. I’ve seen what that does to a guy. I don’t want to become that. I just want to be me again, but I don’t know where to start. I never know where to start.       Well anyway, apart from that whole thing, visiting Andi and Teddy was really nice. Teddy is crawling around like it’s nobody’s business, and he babbles silly baby babble but Andi and I respond as if we’re having a normal conversation with him and then that makes him giggle and babble more. My heart melts whenever I see him, Draco, I am in love with him, he is so sweet! My little godson. I love him. (Yes, I would love to see him more. I don’t want to end up deadbeat or like Sirius was to me. I want to be there for him, but I can’t move. I can’t leave Godric’s Hollow. It’s too important to me.)      Teddy likes to be near me, I’ve discovered. He likes to be touching me. Holding my hand, sitting in my lap, leaning against me, hugging me, kissing me. He likes touching. Maybe he can sense how touch starved I am. Or maybe he just loves me. I swear the world gets brighter when he hugs me or holds my hand or kisses my cheek. (I say kisses. It’s more just a slobbery baby mouth-to-cheek kind of thing but it’s so sweet and it makes my world light up. He makes my world light up.) Andi says he’s not this cuddly with her, nor with you or Narcissa. He likes me. I’m special to him, she says. I mean a lot to him, according to her. To Andi.      I don’t want to give up. I don’t want to die and take the easy way out. I want to stay living and I want to fight my demons and my trauma and show them that I can be a normal guy. I want to be the best godfather Teddy has ever had. I want to take him out flying for his first time, I want to be there when he takes his first steps, I want to hear his first word, see his first day at primary school, see him off on his first day at Hogwarts. I want to watch Teddy grow up into the finest young man. I want to give him everything that Remus and Tonks can’t.       Draco, I want so badly to fight for Teddy, but it’s getting so fucking hard. I feel like I’m being entirely consumed by my demons. The black pit inside me is growing every day and the demons are climbing out of it, filling my head with the black pit, the black numbness making me cry out for the pain of my razor so I can feel something else. So I can show myself that I deserve this pain because of all the pain I have caused.       I have to keep going. I have to keep trying and keep fighting. If not for myself, but for Teddy. Because that little man, my little godson, he means the fucking world to me. I have to. For him. It’s so hard. It drains what little life I have out of me. And I’m so close to giving up. But I can’t. I have to keep going. I have to. For Teddy.       And for you, actually. For you, Draco. Because you mean the world to me as well. You have shown me real friendship in the time I needed it most. You hold me. You don’t belittle me or ignore me because of my demons. You reassure me. Care for me. Love me, almost. You make me feel loved.       I miss you. I miss you a lot. It feels like forever since I last saw you. I should invite you down here. And Andi and Teddy can come as well. I will help Kreacher tidy the place up and I will cook good food and you can all come down here and see me. Because I miss you all. You most of all, Draco. I really miss you.       And I’m glad you’ve had your restrictions lifted. Andi mentioned it earlier. She said the Ministry reviewed your progress, and cuz you’d had no major issues and you were behaving, you don’t need an auror following you around when you leave Hogwarts. I think that’s fucking brilliant, cuz no auror is coming anywhere near my house. I will fucking fight Kingsley on that one. He is not putting any aurors within 500 metres of my house or I will scream.       But I do miss you. A lot. And I will invite you down, because I want to see you. Because you’re my friend and I want you here. I miss you, Draco. I miss you so much.       Till the next one.      From Harry

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9th February 1999Draco,      I don’t usually cry in Helen’s sessions. It’s usually just a lot of talking and occasional frustrated shouting on my end. And then when I do cry, it’s never usually massive, on the floor, whole body shaking kind of crying. More tears trailing down the face, choked words kind of crying. It’s rare for me to full on sob in her sessions.       I’m not entirely sure what exactly pushed me into the zone of full on body shaking sobs. We talked about so much and then I just broke down. Well, I broke down in the middle of talking about Kreacher, so y’know, it was most likely that which got me sobbing, but also I think everything is piling up on top of me and I’m cracking under it all and I can’t keep up with it all so my natural response was just to start sobbing.       It was horrible. I got all choked up and everything felt so close and tight and hot and I couldn’t speak and I couldn’t see and then Helen went ‘Harry, it’s okay to cry about all of this’ and BOOM sobbing. The dam broke. The waterfall burst. I dunno, whatever metaphor you feel would work best in this situation. I was never very good at metaphors and all that bullshit. I always found it hard to sit still and pay attention. I never got any better than that, actually. Although now it seems all I do is sit still. I don’t pay attention to much though. It’s bad. Catatonic. That’s what Helen calls it. My depression has made me catatonic. But that’s whatever at this point. I’ve been dealing with that since last June. It doesn’t bother me anymore. It bothers everyone around me, but I don’t care about it.       Well anyway, I cried a lot and that upset Popcorn a lot. (Helen brings him to every one of our sessions now. He keeps me company and sits in my lap when I need a hug.) I just don’t know what to do with myself, Draco. I don’t. I’m so close to giving up. I know in my last letter I said I wanted to fight for Teddy but it’s so fucking hard and I genuinely don’t know what to do with myself. Helen is frustrated, I can tell. She doesn’t say it outright, but I can read people. I’m very good at that, thanks to the Dursleys, so I can easily tell she is frustrated with me. I’m not making progress. I’m going backwards, ever backwards, right down, down, down into my black pit of numbness. It’s nice down here. Quiet. Dark. I like it. I’m growing used to it. I’m starting to make friends with the demons. They’re quite friendly. They just want to be my friends. They love me. They’re there for me. My demons. Me and my demons.      Helen said it’s good to acknowledge your demons, but not to live with them. In the sense that you know they’re there, but then you try and get rid of them subtly. Slowly. I don’t actually want to get rid of them. I have spent a lot of time with them recently. They’re lonely, Draco. So, so lonely. They’re lonely like I’m lonely, and they all want to be my friends. They want to spend time with me. They love me. They are my friends. My demons. They’re always around and it’s comforting. It makes me feel less alone when I know my demons are right behind me. They’re the comfort in the dark. They sit with me in my black pit of numbness. They keep me company. Helen said this isn’t healthy but I don’t care. They’re MY demons. I want to be their friend. I love them, they love me. We understand each other. We know what the other needs. It’s nice. It’s so, so nice.      I told Helen what Andi offered. She thinks it’s a good idea. She said what Andi said. I won’t be lonely all the time. I can get a job. I can experience familial love day in and day out. I can be there for Teddy. But she’s worried it might be too much of a big change for me and she’s worried it will push me over the edge. She suggested we bring Andi into a session to talk it through altogether. I said maybe. I don’t really want Andi to be in Helen’s room. Helen’s room is my safe space, away from everything. No-one else is allowed to invade that space. So she suggested that she writes to Andi and sends me copies of all the letters they exchange so I am not left out of the loop. But that sounds like a worse idea. Seeing them talk about me as if I am not there. I want to be included. But I don’t want Andi in Helen’s room.       So I told Helen I will think about it. Maybe. If I remember to. I’m not very good at remembering to. I’ll have to ask Kreacher to remind me to remember to think about this. Helen wants an answer next week as to what I’m going to do. Which is a terrifying prospect. I don’t want to give her an answer. I’ll probably just tell her that I will talk to Andi. I doubt she’ll believe me, but she’ll have nothing against it, and she’s not allowed to go behind my back and check with Andi. She can’t do that with anyone. I have no blood relatives left. (We are discounting the Dursleys. They hate me and they treated me like shit. My demons treat me better than the Dursleys did.)      Helen asked after Kreacher as well. This is what got me crying properly. She asked how he was doing and how everything was working back at my house and I had to tell her how slow Kreacher is getting and how difficult everything is for him now and it’s obvious he is going to die very soon and then he will leave me all alone with no-one but my demons because I am a wreck of a human being who will fall apart the moment he dies. Because I can’t look after myself. Because I’m supposed to be dead. I was supposed to die nearly a year ago. This is a year of borrowed fucking time I am living on. How long will my borrowed time last, huh? How long will I get before I die too. Because borrowed time isn’t supposed to last this long. Death will want it back from me. Fate is angry that I cheated it. Maybe Kreacher’s death will be the sign for me that Death is then coming to claim me when really he should’ve claimed me a year ago. I don’t know why he and Fate gave me a chance to cheat them. That doesn’t really make sense, because they don’t care about our petty little wars. They do their job. Why would they let me cheat just to kill Voldemort? It makes no sense.      But Kreacher is going to die very soon. I have made no progress in recovery. I don’t know what to do with myself. Draco, I have fucking gone backwards. I was doing so goddamn well at the start of the year, and then everything slipped right back down into my black pit of numbness. My demons got too lonely. They were crying out for me to come back. So I did. But now I can’t leave them because I’ve realised they understand me and they know me. They know me better than anyone knows me. My demons. Me and my demons. The title of my fucking autobiography.       Everything is just so fucking messed up. More messed up than I ever thought it could be. I hope it doesn’t get any worse than this. I don’t know if I would be able to cope if it got worse than this. Not anymore. It will push me over the edge and I will tumble right down into the point of no return and they I will just kill myself because I will not live like that. Not again. I barely coped with it last time, last year, and I nearly killed myself on several occasions. We are not dealing with that if I get to that point again. We simply are not.      I don’t want to get there. I really don’t. I want to live and fight for Teddy and for you. It’s just hard. It’s so, so hard, Draco. And I’m so lonely.       I don’t know what to do. I really don’t know what to do.      Till the next one.      From Harry

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20th February 1999Draco,      Today was the best fucking day I have ever had in the longest time. (Well, since Yule. But I was extra happy today. Super extra happy.) I got to show my house off to my favourite people in the world. My house which was clean and tidy and did not look like the pit of depression it recently has because of me. Kreacher and I cleaned it specially for you all yesterday. He said there was no way we were having guests over with the house in this state, so he told me to get my wand and help him clean it up. (I didn’t use my wand. That’s the cheater’s way out. And I like cleaning the muggle way. It’s the way I knew for the first eleven years of my life. And I like it. It distracts my mind.)       It took us a bloody long time. You never realise just how bad you let things become until you have to fix it, and boy had I let things get bad. And with Kreacher being all slow and unable to do a lot anymore, it had become so, so bad. (Okay, it wasn’t awful, but it was a lot, even for me. It was just a depression pit. It was not nice. It made me want to cry, but I couldn’t because I had brought this on myself, so I got stuck in helping Kreacher get it all cleaned properly.)       I’m actually proud of how clean we managed to get it. It looked like a proper house. A home, almost. Well, it didn’t look lived in enough to be called a home, but it is my home. It may just be me and Kreacher and occasionally Casper, but it is a home. And today, it welcomed the most important people in my life: you, your mum, Andi and Teddy. My little family. My new family. My favourite family. The best family I have ever had, even if I am not blood related to the rest of you. Though Helen said that’s not important. She said that family can be found and that found family can be more of a family than any real blood relative family.       That’s what you guys are. My found family who have treated me better than the Dursley’s ever have. (Though in all fairness, that’s not a high bar. Fucking Snape treated me better than the Dursley’s, and Snape hated me.)      But anyway, today was the best. I felt so loved. And my house felt like a real home. With all of you guys in it, it felt like it was happy and real. Y’know? I could feel the magic in the house and it felt all warm and happy. It wasn’t like it usually is. Usually, it’s all cold and quiet, but today it was warm. So, so warm. It almost felt like it was burning my skin because I’m just not used to it. But it was okay, because I finally felt warm again. So warm. Hot.       Sorry this letter isn’t very coherent. My brain isn’t very coherent now. I’m tired after having all of you over, and the house magic is all cold. I’m used to it being cold, but after experiencing the warmth of it, I fucking hate the cold. (I am so cold. So, so cold. So cold I’m burning.)       I can still feel your arms around me, you know. The weight of them. You spent so much of your time here with your arms wrapped around me, holding me. When we were sitting and talking in the living room and I was sitting on the floor by the fire, you let me lean against your legs and then slipped down to sit next to me, your arm over my shoulders, pulling me to rest against you. When we were sitting at the table to eat, you were pressed up against me, your arm around my waist, letting me rest against you. When we were all in the living room, sitting on the sofa and listening to the music and the others talk, you had me held in your warm embrace, my back against your chest, your arms around me. When you arrived and left, you gave me proper hugs, holding me for as long as possible before Andi or Cissa called you away.       Even when Teddy was sitting in my lap, you were holding me. When Andi was talking to me, you were holding my hand. When Cissa and I were chatting, your arm was around me. You were almost always holding me, touching me, keeping me warm. And I loved it. I felt loved. I felt properly warm. Yet it meant when you left, the cold was back more than ever with so much more force and I was tempted to crawl into the fire just to warm myself up.       Draco, you have to stop that. Holding me so much, I mean. I don’t mind it. I love it, in fact. But I think I might fall in love with you if you keep it up like that, and I don’t know if I can cope being in love with someone who only sees me once or twice a term. Fuck, I don’t think I can handle being in love. It’s such a big emotion. Helen says big emotions are good, but they’re fucking scary.       And besides, you don’t love me. I know that, because Cissa told me that you’ve been spending a lot of time with Astoria Greengrass at Hogwarts, and she’s expecting the two of you to get married when you graduate Hogwarts this year. I thought it was strange that you hadn’t told me that. In all the letters you’ve written me, you’ve never mentioned how much you like Astoria. You’ve said a few times that you’re spending time with her, but you’ve never said you’re going to marry her. So either you’re hiding that from me, or your mum is making it all up. I’m too scared to ask you. I don’t know why I’m too scared to ask you though. I know you and I will never be together. So why should I be scared?       Maybe because the way I feel for you is so big and scary. I’m not used to feeling like that about someone. I didn’t feel like that with Cho or Ginny. I don’t know why it’s so different with you.      You, oh you, Draco. You who looks at me and makes me want to crawl into your arms. You, who makes me feel more loved than ever before. You, who makes my knees go weak and my heart flutter and my stomach fill with butterflies. You, who loves me unconditionally. (That sounded far too poetic. You see what I’ve come down to? I’ll end up turning into one of them muggle romantic poets.)       At this point, I just want to be held by you. I just want to be with you. You make me feel loved and you make me feel better. When I’m with you, I feel on top of the world. Like nothing is wrong. Like everything will be okay in the end. As long as I’m with you.       But I don’t have you all the time. And I know when I do have you, you’re not really mine. You’re my friend. My friend who loves hugging me. But nothing more, even though I feel like I’m being crushed by my feelings for you.       Though maybe they’re not even real feelings. Maybe I just feel this way because you’re the only person my age to show me real care. What real friendship should be like. Especially in this postwar depression. So maybe I’ve just latched on to you because you are showing me what love is. What happiness is. Yet it all feels so big and real and scary.       All this love.      It’s a bit too much for me. Even if I am sitting here, by the fire, writing this while wishing you were pressed up behind me, your arms around my waist and your chin on my shoulder. Holding me. (I know this sounds ridiculous and fucking stupid but I have been deprived of love my whole life practically. Then you stumble in and show me all of this. Draco, I can’t cope.) I wish you were here. I miss you already. The house misses you. All of you. You, Cissa, Andi and Teddy. It’s so lonely without you all here.       I know I have Kreacher and Casper. Casper is in my lap right now, and Kreacher is in his usual seat by the fire reading his book. But this house is supposed to hold a family. A real family. It’s not supposed to be this empty. This cold. Without any love or happiness inside it.       Well anyway. Today was fantastic. I’m going to do that again one day. invite you all over. It was so lovely having you all here, making my house feel warm and loving. I had the best time. Especially with all the hugs you gave me. I miss them. I miss you. But hopefully I’ll see you soon. I want to see you soon. I miss you.      I miss you a lot.      From Harry

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25th February 1999Draco,      No-one ever warns you about how cold you get when you stop eating. When you lose so much weight. I feel like I should have realised this, but I didn’t, evidently. I’m so cold all the damn time. I have to wear three or four layers around the house because I barely weigh anything and I don’t do anything. I sit and stare at the fire that Kreacher keeps going almost 24/7. Especially since you all came over a few days ago. The house was so warm and now it’s so fucking cold. The magic is too cold. Everything is too cold. I’m so, so cold.      Yes, I know that it’s February, so it’s bound to be cold cuz it’s still technically winter, and it’s only like six or seven degrees outside, but I have nothing on my bones, as Molly put it once. I have nothing to keep the heat in because all my weight has just disappeared because I barely eat anything anymore.       Kreacher isn’t happy about it. He’s very vocal about how unhappy he is about it. He grumbles and complains while he sits in his chair by the oven while I’m cooking. He says that I make so much delicious food so I should eat some of it. I say I cook mostly for him, but I do eat some of it. He says I don’t eat enough. (I mean, he’s right, but we won’t go down that path.)       I’m getting really sick of this. Being cold and alone and depressed. I’m so tired of it. I’m so tired. But I guess I’ve lost the right to say anything like this anymore. I don’t deserve to complain like this when I won’t do anything to help myself. I do fuck all. Because I’m tired, and I’m cold and I can barely move because of how much pain I’m in. (Yes, okay fine, I did it again last night because I’d had a fucking awful dream about being abandoned and I woke up and it was the one thing that could bring me comfort in the moment. The pain, the blood, the bandages, all of it. It’s reassuring. Which is fucked up, but shut up. It’s my coping mechanism. Leave me alone.)       I feel like I should stop complaining about how I live now, because it’s all down to me. If I don’t like it, I need to make a change. But I can’t make a change because I’m so tired and cold and can barely move. You see the issue here, right? I’m stuck in a circle. A circle that I can’t seem to break away from because when I try to, I find myself unable to because of how tired I am. It’s a vicious circle. That’s what Helen called it the other day. A vicious circle. Cuz, well, it’s a circle and it’s vicious.       And I’m sorry to sound like a broken record again, but I don’t know what to do about it. I need help, but I don’t know what kind of help I need. Well, I need someone in my house living with me 24/7 so I can have the kick up the arse I need to start properly getting better. But I think I’ve said this before, and the people I want are unavailable, and the people Helen offers are strangers and I fucking refuse to have a stranger in my house. And I don’t want to live with Andi and Teddy. I can’t leave this house. I can’t leave my parents house. So I’m stuck. (All my own fault. All my demons fault.)      Helen says my stubbornness will end up with me in the worst place possible. Mentally. Possibly even dead. Most likely dead. Because Kreacher is going to die soon, and I will all be alone and then I will fall into even more self neglect and then I will die. Because I’m fucking useless. (I’m allowed to be self-deprecating in these letters because these are my therapy letters and I can write whatever the hell I damn want in here. No-one is going to read them. They’re mine.)       It’s also fucking freezing in my bedroom so I think I’m going to move into the sitting room to finish this letter because the fire is lit and there’s a fluffy blanket on the sofa.       Kreacher has made me a cup of tea and he’s baked a cake. It’s coffee and chocolate and he’s cut me a slice. It’s not a big slice. It smells delicious though. Like, really delicious. I think I’m going to have to have some. He’s sitting on his little armchair by the fire reading a book. He has his own cup of tea and slice of cake. I think he’s also secretly watching me to make sure I eat it while I write this letter, then he’ll ask me to play a game of cards. I know he will. I introduced him to muggle cards a couple weeks ago because David gave me one of his spare packs.       It’s a lot of fun, playing with him. He knows all these wizard card games that he’s adapted to muggle cards and he’s taught me to play them as I taught him to play muggle card games. He’s a lot of fun to play with. Playing with him makes me feel a lot better, because it makes me feel almost normal again. Like, just playing cards and drinking tea because it is so fucking simple. In a world where everything is overly complicated, this is simple. Simple happiness. Warmth in a cold, cold life. Y’know? When everything is so cold, this is warm. Playing cards by the fire with Kreacher. It’s happy. Simple.      Barely anything is simple anymore. I’ve turned down Andi’s offer to live with her. I said I’d try and visit more often. I’ll get Kreacher to kick me up the arse and go and see her more because I need to. After the other day I know I need to. She and Teddy miss me. And I miss them, I do. Just, I can’t move in with them. I can’t leave this house. Not when I’ve worked so hard on it. Not when it was supposed to be the house I grew up in.      Draco, I think I do miss Hogwarts. Just a little bit. (Okay, maybe more than a little bit, but don’t tell anyone.) I find myself wondering just how different things would’ve been had I returned. Would I have found proper help? Would I have spiralled? Would I have had a few bad weeks, but then been swept into the regular Hogwarts life and come back to myself? Would Hogwarts have been good for me? Something to focus on. Something to give me a reason to keep going. But I would’ve hated to leave Kreacher all by himself in the house. He’s all soft when it comes to me and he’s been alone and angry for so much of his life, I didn’t want him to go back to being alone and angry before he dies. I love him, I do. He knows me like the back of his hand. He knows what’s best for me and what I need. He knows. And he’s not afraid to tell me. He will scream it at me to make me understand. He loves me, but he is not afraid to tell me things. He’s always looking out for me. He knows me best.      Yeah, definitely couldn’t have left him behind. Couldn’t have gone to Hogwarts without him. Fuck, I barely know what I’m going to do without him when he dies. I think I will fall apart when he dies. I can’t do that, but I think that’s what’s going to happen. Because I can barely look after myself. You know this, come on. Everything is going to shit. It’s not working. And I don’t know what to do.       Half of me wants to write to Luna or Ginny or someone to ask for help, but I bet they would just say that I should move up to be closer to Hogwarts so I can visit everyone sooner and then get a Ministry approved mind healer to dig through my trauma. (That’s not happening. Helen is perfect and I am not leaving her unless she forces me to.)       I want to see you again. I miss you. I miss your hugs. I miss you being here and  making me and my house happy again.       It’s not good, Draco. It’s so cold. I’m so, so cold.       Kreacher has made me another cup of tea. My last one got cold. He always remakes the tea instead of just reheating the old cup. He’s also just told me to move away from the fire. He’s worried that I’m going to set my blanket on fire. I don’t want to move. I’m so cold. But I will move. Because Kreacher is worried and I hate it when Kreacher is worried. I’ll cast a warming charm on myself. I’m so cold, Draco. I want you here, holding me. Making me warm.       I’ll go and play cards with Kreacher now. He’s picked up the deck of muggle cards to play with me. I like playing cards with Kreacher. It’s nice. Normal. Simple.       Till the next one.      From Harry

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3rd March 1999Draco,      Merlin and Morgana gained a friend today. A loyal, kind and loving friend. A friend who is pretty much the sole reason I am still here almost a year after I was supposed to die.      Yeah. Kreacher died today. This morning. I thought it was weird when he didn’t come downstairs for breakfast, so I went to see if he was okay in his room. He was just lying there, eyes closed, not breathing. Died in his sleep. Peaceful. He looked so peaceful. So, so peaceful.      Draco, Kreacher is dead. Like, dead dead. Properly dead. Not coming back, dead. Really, truly dead.       I buried him in the garden by the big oak tree. That was always his favourite spot to sit in the summer. When it was nice and warm, we would take our books and glasses of lemonade and just sit in the warmth under the tree. It was nice. Simple. Warm. He spent so much time there in the summer. So I buried him in that spot. Somewhere that meant a lot to him. (No, I did not chop his head off to put on a placard to hang up in the house. That was a fucking weird Black tradition.)       I made a little headstone for him. Like I did with Dobby. ‘Here lies Kreacher. A loyal, kind and loving friend.’ I would’ve put elf, but I didn’t want any muggles seeing it and thinking I was fucking mad. If I put friend, they will just think he was a cat or a dog. Much safer.       Kreacher was my friend though. He was so much more than just my house elf. He looked after me and cared for me and loved me like no-one else had before. He knew me inside and out, back to front and upside down. He knew me better than anyone; he knew what to do when I was down, or when I had cut, or when I wanted to kill myself. He always knew how to take care of me.      And now he is dead.       And I am all alone.       I have no-one to look after me. No-one to keep me company. No-one to play cards with, or to argue about food with, or to read with. No-one to patch me back together after fucking up or trying to kill myself. No-one to care for me.       Kreacher is dead, Draco. And I really fucking miss him. It’s only been three hours since I buried him, but it feels like a lifetime. The house is still. Too still. It’s quiet and cold and still and I fucking hate it. Casper isn’t even here to keep me company. It’s just me. Me in my empty house because my best friend is dead.       He tried to prepare me for it. He tried to warn me and tried to force me to look after myself. But because I am a pathetic excuse for a wizard, I couldn’t do it. And now look at me. All alone, ready to slip even further down into the grasp of my demons.       I fucked up, Draco. Kreacher would be so upset with me. For being like this, I mean. For not pulling myself together and getting my shit sorted before he died. Because now I am all alone again. All alone. So, so alone.       I hate to say this, but I genuinely don’t know how long I am going to last without him. He was the sole reason I managed to stay alive since the end of the war. He kept me going and kept me fucking alive. So now what? Now what do I do?       I’ve fucked up. I’ve really, really fucked up. And I really don’t know what to do anymore. I need help, Draco. I need help. Because Kreacher is dead and I am all alone. I don’t even have Casper. And I don’t know what I’m supposed to do now.       Draco I need you here. I wish you were here. I need your hug. I just need to be near you. I need you. I can’t do this, Draco. I can’t cope with this. He’s dead. Dead, dead, dead, DEAD!       My best friend is dead, Draco. What the fuck am I supposed to do now?      Till the next one.      From Harry

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9th March 1999Draco,      It’s so hard without him. After that last letter, I went back to bed and cried. I cried so much. It was the grief, Helen said. Kreacher had formed a bond with me and his death hit me so hard. The grief was too much. I cried myself to sleep and woke up four days later feeling like I had been hit by a train.       I didn’t want to get out of bed. So I didn’t. I let myself wallow in my grief, crying, staring at the ceiling, feeling numb then feeling everything at once. I wanted to stay lying there until I died too. But I knew I couldn’t do that. He would be so upset with me if I did that. I have to at least try to keep myself alive for him.       So I got up and I drank water and ate a piece of toast and had a shower. Something to do. Something that wasn’t lying in bed grieving. Grief. It’s a funny thing. It feels like a friend to me now. So many people have died around me. Grief is an old friend. Like Death. Old friends.       I haven’t touched his room yet. I’m too scared to do that. I know I have to, but I really don’t want to. It was his room. Not mine. What right do I have to go rummaging through his shit?       Except I have to clean it. Make sure it’s aired and tidy. A room for someone else to stay. But I don’t want anyone else to stay in that room. It was KREACHER’S ROOM. No-one else’s. I can’t disrespect him by putting someone else in there. Fuck, I never even went in there when he was alive. It was his space. I respected that. He needed a space of his own so I let him take the bedroom. How can I go and invade that now and disrespect him?        Helen said I have to do it eventually because it will do me no good to have the room blocked off and left to rot as a shrine to my dead house elf. I screamed at her when she said that, saying how he was so much more than a house elf, he was my fucking best friend. MY BEST FRIEND. He was everything to me.       Helen said I need to let him go. I need to process my grief and let him go and focus on getting better because that’s what he wanted. He wanted me to get better and stay alive and stay fighting for life. But I’m so sick of fighting. I’m so tired of it all. I’m so tired.       It’s become so bad, Draco. So, so bad. I’m all alone. Too alone. Helen said again that she’s going to look for someone to live with me to look after me. I told her no. Again. I said I will block them from my wards. I will block everyone from my wards. I’ll not have a stranger living in my house. Taking over Kreacher’s bedroom. Taking over my life. I can’t deal with that.       Though I can’t deal with most things anymore. It’s all too much for me. It’s piling on top of me and forcing me down, down, down, down the slide, all the way down into the arms of my demons. My demons who know what to do. Who tell me what to do. And I do it. And I feel better. Seeing the blood makes me feel better. The pain makes me feel something. It’s good. They tell me it’s good.       Except I have to clean it all up myself. The muggle way. Because my magic is getting weaker and weaker and I have no Kreacher to help me and look after me. So my bandages are shoddy work and I barely got the blood stain off the bathroom floor.       Helen insisted on checking my bandages over. She took them all off and cleaned it properly and put on new ones and gave me healing balm to apply in two days. She said she’s upset that I’m doing this again. I shouldn’t be doing this, because it’s bad and it hurts. I told her it’s good and my demons told me to do it because it’s so good and it makes me feel better.      So she’s giving me an ultimatum. Either, I have someone live with me 24/7, or she sections me under the wizarding mental health act and ships me off to a mental health institution.       So obviously, I told her to fuck off and stormed out of her office and apparated back home. And promptly burst into tears. I lay in bed and cried and cried and cried. Again. Grieving more. A lot more. For myself and for Kreacher. For the life I could’ve had, for the life I lost through the war. For everything. Because everything is so fucked up now. And I can’t do anything about it.      Well, I can. I’m just too stubborn. I refuse to let anyone in my house, I refuse to help myself, I refuse to move in with Andi and Teddy, I refuse to do fucking anything. I’m useless. I’ve royally fucked myself over, Draco. I’ve sunk into this mentality where I have to do it all by myself but I can’t do anything by myself. I’m catatonic, depressed, traumatised. I am fucked up, Draco. Severely.       God, I need a drink. A strong one. Not firewhiskey. That’s not strong enough for this situation. I need vodka. I need to forget about all of this. I need to forget, Draco.       I have a feeling Helen is going to call the aurors on me. Or she’ll try and come over here herself. She knows I’m not safe from myself. She’s definitely going to do something. I’m just not sure what. And I’m scared of that. I’m scared of the unknown. I don’t like not knowing. Maybe I’ll just tell her that Miriam and David check in on me and that I will visit Andi more often. And I’ll tell her I’m going to join the church. Because I think I should. I think I need the sense of community. Forgiveness.       Maybe I won’t entirely join the church, but I’ll go to the service on Sunday for peace, and maybe I’ll go privately on my own to find peace when it’s open in the week. I need to. I know I need to. I’ll ask Miriam and David if I can go with them on Sunday to church. I don’t want to go alone. I can’t go alone. And Miriam and David always speak so highly of the church.       Yeah. I’ll tell Helen that. I’ll write to her now and say sorry for shouting at her but I have measures here to look after myself without needing either of her suggestions. And then I’m going to have some vodka. Maybe I’ll mix it with firewhiskey. That will make it so damn strong and then maybe if I drink enough of it, I’ll forget. I need to forget Draco. I need to forget. I’ve remembered too much and my head is so full and I feel like I’m about to explode. That, or I’ll AK myself. And I probably shouldn’t do that. I have to fight for a little longer. For Kreacher. If not for anyone else, I have to keep going for Kreacher.       Maybe I can write to your mum and see if she is free to come and visit me. I like your mum. She’s so kind and she gives wonderful hugs. Not as good as your hugs, of course. Nothing beats your hugs. I miss your hugs. I miss you. I miss you so much, Draco. Which is bad. I shouldn’t be this dependent on you or your hugs. Well, I’m not dependent on you. I just miss you. Like I’m missing a part of myself. Which sounds over the top or cringy, but I don’t really care. Because I miss you so much and I wish you were here. Shit’s not good. Shit’s really not good.       Fuck, I need a drink.      Till the next one.      From Harry

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14th March 1999Draco,      I’m writing this letter sitting by my parents grave. The statue looks beautiful at the moment. The sun is hitting it at just the right angle to make it look like they have halos. They look so pretty. So young and pretty and in love.       I miss them. I miss them so much. Which is probably weird, cuz I never actually got to make any memories I would remember with them. I didn’t get to grow up with them. I didn’t get them. But I miss them so much. I miss the family we could’ve been. It could’ve been so good.       Miriam, David and I went to church today. I saw them leaving this morning and went out and asked if I could come with them. Miriam gave me a big hug and said I could and I could sit with them. So I walked with them to church. And I sat through a church service.       I kind of hated it, I can’t lie. There was so much talk about God, and I know that the whole point of church is God and Jesus and all that malarkey, but it was too much for me. I’ve never been integrated into a church, so I had no idea what it would be like, and I hated how much God there was. Probably because I don’t believe in God. Because no God would put a guy through so much hell. But I didn’t tell Miriam and David that. They were so happy there. So when I left and they asked if I would come again, I said probably not because it wasn’t my thing. And they accepted that, which was good.       I liked the church though. Like, the building itself. I felt so calm when I walked in and I felt all at peace. When it was silent as well, I felt like everything was okay and that I wasn’t drowning. It was so nice. So light. So warm. Peaceful too. I tuned out the God shite after a while and just focused on the feeling of the building. I did listen to the hymns though, and they were nice. Calming too. Made me feel peaceful.       So though I hated all the God stuff, I really liked the building and the calmness and peacefulness that I felt while in the building. It was just so wonderful, Draco. I can’t explain it. I’ll have to take you so you can experience it too. It’s nice. I’ll definitely be going there on my own in the week. Miriam said it’s open from 9am till 6pm every day, so I’ll go in to feel at peace some day. Soon. Maybe on Tuesday after my next session with Helen. I have a feeling I’ll need the peace after that.      Yeah, I wrote to her and she wrote back saying she didn’t trust me and she was going to come and visit me. And she did. Yesterday. I had tidied the place up a bit anyway, cuz I needed something to do. She questioned me a lot about everything. About what I was doing, how I was living, what my neighbours were doing to help me, what my friends were doing to help me. All of that. And she asked if I had gone to church. She was so nosy and I was so tempted to kick her out of my house cuz I just wanted to be alone. Wallowing in my grief in my house.       She also cleaned my arms again and made sure I hadn’t done it again. She wanted to confiscate my razor but I had hidden it so she couldn’t find it. I hadn’t done it again since Kreacher’s death. I’ve been tempted, but I haven’t. And that’s what matters, I guess. That I didn’t give in to the temptation or the urge to do it again. That’s the part to focus on.       Well anyway. It’s getting kind of chilly here. The sun has gone behind the clouds. I think it might start to rain. Not that I mind too much. I like the rain. It’s soothing. Almost as soothing as being in the church. There’s just something special about the church. It’s just so special. I can’t really say how, but it just is. I can’t find the words to describe it. But I like it, and that’s what matters. I’ll write to Helen and tell her about this so she trusts me and she knows what I’m planning and what is happening. She’ll be proud of me. I know she will.      I hope Kreacher will be proud of me too. I hope he’s watching me from wherever he is now and is proud of me for taking this step.       I miss him, Draco. It’s so unbelievably hard without him. He was the reason I got out of bed in the mornings, the reason I kept living. But he’s not here anymore. Because he’s dead. He’s with Sirius and my mum and dad and Remus and Tonks and Dobby and everyone else who died. Everyone I loved. He’s with them now. Being loved by them. But I still wish he was here with me. I miss him so much. It’s so hard. I can barely function some days without him. I hate it so much. Draco, I miss him. I miss him more than anything. (Though not quite more than you. But you’re different.)       My parents are smiling in the statue here. Smiling at me. Baby me. Dad has his arm around Mum and she is holding baby me and we’re all smiling. I’ll bring you here next time you’re down and show it you. It’s such a beautiful statue. We all look so happy. So loving. And Dad and Mum look like they’re so proud of me. Proud to be my parents. Proud of each other.       I wish this was a statue that could talk so that I could speak to them. I really want to. I got to, once. Back in the Forbidden Forest during the battle. It was after Voldemort had summoned me and I walked there and had the Resurrection Stone. I held it tight and there around me was Sirius, Remus, Dad and Mum. Mum tried to hug me but, well, she was just a ghost, effectively. An apparition. But they stood around me and told me it was okay to be scared and that they loved me and were proud of me. They said they wouldn’t leave me and would be with me every step of the way.       I half think that, had I seen them in that weird limbo land after Voldemort killed me, instead of Dumbledore, I wouldn’t have come back. I think if my family had been there, I would’ve gone on and died, not cheating Death and Fate by coming back. I think I would’ve gone with the people who loved me, rather than returning to a loveless world. But because old Dumby was there, he convinced me to go back. Subtly. He knew I had to kill Voldemort, so he convinced me to go back. ‘For the greater good.’ I hate that man. I’m so glad he’s dead. He was a manipulative old bastard who raised me like a fucking pig for slaughter.       Dumbledore made sure I grew up without love, then became my saviour in first year, showing me love and the light of the Wizarding World, immediately making me think he had to be good, because he saved me from my abusive household. (He didn’t save me. He put me there knowing that Aunt Petunia hated magic, then proceeded to send me back every summer to protect Mum’s love magic thing. Knowing it was an abusive household. Knowing I was treated like shit.) He made sure I heard all the things he needed me to hear: Gryffindor is good, ALL bad wizards go to Slytherin etc etc etc.       I was supposed to be sorted into Slytherin, y’know. That was the hat’s first choice. But because Hagrid told me that all of Slytherin was evil, and I had met you, and you were a wanker to me and Ron, I asked it not to. So it put me in Gryffindor. Because I asked not to go into Slytherin.      So I grew in Hogwarts as the boy Dumbledore needed me to be. As the sacrificial lamb. The tool. The key to bringing down Voldemort.       Even with my parents dead, I could’ve had such a loving childhood. I could’ve gone to Sirius (had he not tried to go after Pettigrew and ended up in Azkaban without trial), or Remus, or maybe that woman who was in the letter from my 18th. Mary, I think her name was. Mary Macdonald. Dumbledore must’ve obliviated her to stop me from going into a loving, wizarding household. I would say I could’ve gone to either of my grandparents, but Sirius told me that all my grandparents died before I was born.       I still can’t believe Dumbledore did half the stuff he did. Y’know? Like, he was such a good man to start with. And then he just got dark. He was a dick. A proper dick. And a wanker. I could use stronger words, but I’m getting tired and it’s cold and I think it has started raining. Only a little bit though. I still should probably go inside. Maybe I’ll have a cup of tea and read my book. I think that’s a good idea. Warm myself up a bit. And then I could put the telly on and watch mindless rubbish. I think there’s a Blue Peter episode this afternoon as well. A new one. I like Blue Peter. Kreacher did too. He loved it. Found it fascinating.       It’s started properly raining now, so I’m going to go inside and warm up with tea. I’ll write to Helen and I’ll go back to church in a couple of days to just be. Existing in the building. I need the peace it gives me. The sense of security. It’s nice.       I really hope I see you soon, Draco. I miss you a lot. I really, really miss you.       Till the next one.      From Harry

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20th March 1999Draco,      Time slips away from you when you’re all on your own. Day blends into night blends into day. Hours and minutes become meaningless. Especially when you have all your curtains drawn and you broke the last clock you owned.       I realised this morning I hadn’t left my house in a week. I’d barely left my bed in a week. I missed a session with Helen last Tuesday (causing a worrying letter to come through my door) and I missed going to church again. I lay in bed for a lot of the week. Pretty much the whole week. More than. I drank tea. I had a shower. I ate toast when I felt empty. I did a whole lot of nothing. Lying around, staring into space, feeling sorry for myself. Missing Kreacher. Missing you. It was pathetic. But then again, I am pathetic. A pathetic man.      Helen’s letter said that she was upset I missed the session and she is worried about me more than is good for her. She said she’s not afraid to call the aurors to have me sectioned. So I strengthened my wards so now any unauthorised people can’t enter my house. Including aurors. I’m tempted to put a fidelus on the house. I feel like that would be best. Then I can hide away from everyone and everything and rot away in my house surrounded by my depression and demons. In the comforting reach of my depression and demons. It’s so cold in the house but they’re so warm. They know what I need and they keep me warm. So, so warm.      I wrote back to Helen telling her that I had slept in because it’s been stressful and that I didn’t mean to miss her session but I will be there next week. Then I went back to bed. Back to my nothingness and my demons and my darkness. I only realised the time today because Miriam and David came knocking on my door at whatever o’clock in the morning. I think it was around one. So, afternoon then. They’d brought food with them. A big pasta bake, a casserole, a Victoria sponge cake. I didn’t want to let them in because my house is a mess but they wouldn’t let me say no. They said they’re incredibly worried about me and they don’t know how they can help so they brought food and will help me clean up. Because they’re worried about me. Because they care about me and they don’t want any more bad stuff to happen to me.      And they did. Help me clean, that is. They opened all the curtains and dragged me to join them in cleaning out all the rooms. Hoovering, mopping, dusting. All of it. They made me change my sheets on my bed and clean the bathtub and the sink and the mirror. And I put on a massive load of laundry. We cleaned the whole house. Apart from Kraecher’s room, obviously. I disillusioned that room so they wouldn’t notice it. I know I need to clean his room but I sort of can’t bring myself to. Not yet.       So anyway, my house is clean now. All shiny and clean and good. It smells nicer too. It smelt all musty before and now it smells fresh. Miriam lit a rose scented candle and David opened some of the windows. We had the records playing while we cleaned. Then we ate some of the cake with cups of tea and they asked me again what they could do for me because they said they know something is really wrong with me and they’re worried about me.       Draco, I want to tell them. I want to tell them about all of it but I’m worried they won’t believe me or I’ll get arrested for breaking the secrecy or they’ll both die of shock. Because how do I tell these two wonderful muggles that magic actually exists and it caused a war in Britain and I was centre to the war? A war, Draco. I was barely of age and I was the fucking centre point to a FUCKING WAR.       But I can’t tell them that. So I told them that I have depression and a very close friend of mine died recently and I’m struggling to cope with the grief. Miriam was worried the close friend was you, but I told her it wasn't. Obviously, I couldn’t tell them it was an elf, so we kept it at close friend. They both gave me huge hugs and said they understood grief and that it is a little bitch. Then they offered to walk to the church with me to find peace in my grief. Because the church helps with grief. Praying to God or sitting in the pews and listening to the music. David said the organ player, Theodore, was in and was practising his playing.       So I said yes. I put on some decent clothes and the three of us (and Casper) walked to the church. I don’t know why Casper came too. He’s been elusive recently but I’m not complaining. I’ve missed him. We all walked to the church and sat on one of the pews near the front. There was only one other person in the church, besides Theodore, whose music was gorgeous. He plays the organ so amazingly. I loved it. I felt so peaceful.      We sat there for ages. I had my eyes closed and I listened to Theodore’s playing and thought about a lot of things. About Kreacher, about my mum and dad, about you, Andi, Teddy and your mum, about Ron and Hermione. I thought about a lot of things. But the music kept me grounded and I didn’t get lost in my head. I didn’t cry, either. I wanted to, but I didn’t. Miriam held my hand when I needed extra comfort. David let me wear his coat because I was shaking. Because I was cold. They were so kind to me, Draco. And they sat with me the whole while I wanted to stay. I said to them that they didn’t have to sit with me, but they said they loved me and they loved the church and they wanted to stay. Miriam said they would stay with me for as long as I needed. David said they would go when I went, or if I asked them to. Because they love me and they are worried about me.        I’ve never had grandparents to love me before. But Miriam and David are practically my grandparents now. I don’t call them that, and I haven’t told them I consider them my grandparents. They have their own grandchildren and their own family. They don’t need me to add to that. But in my head, they’re my grandparents. And I love them and they love me.       We sat in the church for ages. My bum was numb by the time I wanted to leave and one of my legs had fallen asleep. I nearly fell over. (I didn’t. That would’ve been embarrassing.) We told Theodore we loved his playing, then Miriam and David walked me back to my house. Casper actually stayed with me too. I was surprised he hadn’t disappeared off to go hunt or wherever. But he stayed. And when we got home, he sat on my lap on the sofa after I’d made myself another cup of tea and got my book from my room and lit the fire.       I felt okay after being at the church. I felt calm and at peace, sort of. I had the energy to light the fire and make tea and read my book. Miriam and David had to get back to their house to feed their cat and dog and make their food, but they said they thought I would be okay on my own. And I was. I read my book. I drank tea. I ate a small bowl of the casserole they had brought me.       And for a while, it felt like everything wasn’t crumbling down around me. For a while, it all felt weirdly normal. Like I was a normal guy, in his normal house, with his normal cat, drinking tea and reading his book in front of a roaring fire. There was no depression or demons or trauma or any of that. I was a normal guy without any extra problems.       I was fine.      I am fine. I’m still here, actually. By the fire. Casper isn’t on my lap anymore, but that’s because I just fed him. I was going to go straight to bed but I decided to write this letter because I thought it would be best. Y’know, to tell you everything. Explain all of this. Because that’s what these letters are for. Writing, explaining, all of that. I still feel okay, as well. I know that in the back of my mind everything is falling down and crumbling apart, but for now I feel okay. I would feel even more okay if you were here, sitting next to me, holding me, keeping me warm. Keeping me company. But you’re at Hogwarts, and I am okay.       I should go to the church more often. To find the peace. Because it was so nice and peaceful and I felt so fucking good after it all. I feel so good. At peace. Happy. Well, not quite happy, but you know what I mean, right? It was good. I’ll go and sit in the church more often. It makes me feel like this and this is good. This isn’t fucked up, nor is it bad. This is so good. This is what life is supposed to be like. Calm. Good. Happy. (Ish.)       I still wish you were here. I miss you a lot. I think I’ll go and write to you now. A real letter. Not this. I’ll write you a good letter. Just saying I miss you and I want to see you again. Maybe I could come up to Hogsmeade again and see you and possibly the others. Blaise, Pansy, Theo and Millie. Maybe Astoria too. Or you could come down here. I need to visit Andi and Teddy again. And I’d like to see your mum too. She was so kind to me and I really liked her. Maybe I’ll write to her as well and see if she can visit me. Or if I can visit her. That would be nice. That would be really nice. I’d feel less alone.       God, Draco, sometimes I feel so alone. Sometimes I feel like I am the only person on earth. And not in a good way. It crushes me. But then sometimes I feel less alone. Like today. Like when I see you and Andi and Teddy. When I’m with Miriam and David. When it’s good. I wish it was good all the time. I like it when it’s good.      I’ll go and write your letter now. And then I’ll go to bed because I’m really tired now. Really tired. But I’ll write your letter first. Because I miss you and because I need to write to you. Because you mean a lot to me, Draco. You mean the world to me. And I miss you. I miss you a lot.      Till the next one.      From Harry

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25th March 1999Draco,      I don’t know why now I’m struggling to come to terms with the fact that people are worried about me. People have been worried about me all the time while I was at Hogwarts. I had seven years of people worrying about me. So why now do I find it so strange to learn that people are worried about me?      I mean, it’s bad enough having Helen and Miriam and David worrying about me, and that I can just about cope with, but when you wrote to me again, saying how you, Cissa and Andi are all super worried about me, I broke down crying. I guess I can’t understand why you’re all worried about me. Like, I know I consider you all my family, and I know Andi said I am part of her family, but I think because I have never had a family that it all feels so alien to me. Having a family. Having people who worry about me. And you worry about me not because I’m getting myself into life threatening situations, but because you care about me and you love me. Right, I know people back at Hogwarts loved me and cared about me, but I just don’t know how to explain it.       It’s different when it comes to you and Andi and Cissa. I can’t describe why though. All of you are different to Hermione and Ron and Molly. Maybe it’s because you’re you. I don’t know. I can’t explain it. Explaining things is difficult now. I hate explaining things. Helen makes me explain everything in our sessions and I hate it because words are difficult. Trying to translate what happens in my head into words is confusing and awful. It makes my head hurt. (You don’t make my head hurt though. Not anymore. I’ve realised where I stand with you. Like, my feelings. Helen helped.)      I miss you all. It’s been AGES since I saw you. I think the last time I saw you was when you came over to mine back in January. I think it was January when you came over. Maybe it was later. Or maybe it was before. I can’t remember. Time is a weird thing when you spend all your time in your own company.       Maybe I should invite you all over again. Or I should go and visit Andi and Teddy again at least. Andi wrote to me the other day to say that she and Teddy miss me. I haven’t responded to her letter yet. I need to do that. You said you all miss me. You, Cissa and Andi and Teddy. I miss you all too. I miss you so much.      I miss YOU, Draco. My Draco. My Person. I miss you so much. I want to be with you and spend time with you and just sit with you. You’re my favourite person right now. And I miss you. I know you have school, and I know it’s my fault for not reaching out more and for being a fucking recluse, but I miss you so much. I want to see you again. All of you, and just you. I miss you. (I know I sound like a broken record but I couldn’t care less. I really, really miss you. I miss you so much it hurts.)       I need to see you all again. To stop you all worrying about me. I hate that you worry, but I kind of like knowing that there are people out there who love me enough to worry about me. Even if I do hate it when people worry about me.       Ron and Hermione haven’t spoken to me. Not since I saw them after Yule when I came up to Hogwarts. Luna’s written once. So has Ginny. Bill and Charlie and George haven’t. Neither have Molly or Arthur. But I find myself not really caring that they haven’t written, y’know? I just don’t care. I know Helen says the apathy is a bad thing, but I don’t care. I just seem to care about you. And Andi and Cissa and Teddy, obviously. And Miriam and David and Helen and Casper. And Kreacher. But Kreacher is dead.       I miss him, Draco. It’s so awful here without him. I’m trying my best, I really am, but it’s so fucking difficult. At this point I’m just trying to survive without him. I’m barely living. Fuck, I’m barely surviving. I constantly feel on the verge of death, and I have to fight myself to not die. But I’m so fucking sick of fighting. All I have done my ENTIRE FUCKING LIFE is fight. I’ve fought murderous teachers, a basilisk, dementors, my murderous godfather, dragons, Voldemort, more murderous teachers, Dumbledore, my friends, you, Voldemort some more. And that’s just school. That’s not even counting all the times I’ve had to fight for myself before Hogwarts. And now I have to fight myself just to stay alive.       But I’m so tired, Draco. I’m tired of fighting. I’m tired of constantly having to battle something or someone. I’m tired. I just want to stop. I want it all to stop. I want to give up. But I can’t give up, because then that would destroy everyone I love and I can’t do that to them. I can’t do that to you. I love you too much to do that. So I have to keep fighting. But I’m so fucking tired, Draco. I just want it all to stop. Even for five minutes.       I try to cope with it all. I try to imagine you’re by my side with your arms around me and we’re in front of the fire and you’re reading to me and we’re okay. But I’m so cold that I can’t imagine it. I’m so cold and my mind is so dark and my demons are so big. And they tell me to do other things. And I do those other things which just creates a big mess and makes Helen sad. I try to ignore my demons but they’re hard to ignore. It’s easy to do what they say because then I don’t have to fight them and I’m so sick of fighting everything.       I want you here. Or Andi. Or Cissa. Or Miriam or David or Teddy. Fuck, I’ll even take Helen. I just don’t want to be alone anymore. I’m fucking sick of being alone, Draco. It’s too much and I’m drowning in it. I need a break. I need you. It’s all just a bit too much for me.       But I’m still alive. Just. And that’s what counts. That’s what matters. The fact that I am still alive and that I am still trying to fight. Even when everything seems so big and overwhelming, I still fight. I’m still alive. That’s the important thing. That’s what matters the most. According to Helen, at least.      Well anyway. I’m going to write to you now. Respond to your letter because you always write me letters now. (I’m not complaining. I like your letters, Draco. I fucking love your letters.) And I think I am going to tell you how lonely I am. And I’ll tell you what Helen said. The ultimatum she gave me. Y’know, when she was like ‘someone lives with you 24/7 or I section you.’ I really do need to find someone to live with me. Because if I carry on like this, shit isn’t going to get better and I’ll be dead before the end of the month. Which is not a thing any of us want to happen. (Yes, even me. Funnily enough, when you have a family, it makes you less inclined to kill yourself, even if the whole world seemms to be screaming at you to kill yourself.) I’m trying so hard, Draco. But it’s tiring. So, so tiring.       But I’m reaching out and I’m telling you the truth. The real you. Partly because you keep calling my bullshit and partly because I’m tired of lying. Tired of hiding the truth from you. Because you mean the world to me and Helen said you’re not supposed to hide away from the people who mean the most to you. And I don’t think you’ll be able to help me very much, what with you being in Scotland and me being in Suffolk. But that’s not the important thing. The important thing is that I am telling you the truth and that I am reaching out. That’s what matters.       I’ll go and write your letter then I’ll go and have a nap. Or maybe I’ll put on a record and have a cup of tea and read and have a bath. Or maybe I’ll just nap. I’m so tired, Draco. I’m so, so tired.       Till the next one.      From Harry

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27th March 1999Draco,      I’ve told you once and I will tell you again, but you are my favourite fucking person and your mum is my second favourite person. I mean it when I say that.       When I wrote to you the other day saying how lonely I feel and how awful everything is, I wasn’t expecting a solution. And yet because you and your mum care for me so much, you found me a solution and you found me the fucking best solution in the world. (I know you know what has happened but I’m writing it here because it feels so fucking surreal that half of me can’t believe it’s true even though Cissa is literally sitting on Kreacher’s sofa.)       Your mum wrote ahead yesterday to say she would be visiting because you were so worried about me and today she appeared on my doorstep at eleven o’clock in the morning (I was still in bed so I did feel awful when I greeted her in my pyjamas. I looked like a mess!!) But even though I looked like a mess, the first thing Cissa did, even before I had asked her to come inside, was hug me. It was pretty much like at Yule. She took one look at me and literally fucking swept me into her arms and hugged me like a mother would. Like she was my mum. Like she loved me and like she was extremely worried about me but extremely glad to see me.       And then she came inside and put the food she brought with her in the fridge and hugged me again because I was following her like a lost fucking puppy because Draco there was someone else in my house with me and I wasn’t alone. I’m not alone! She made tea and I put on one of your records and we sat on the sofa by the fire and she held me while we talked. Because she asked me if I was okay and I wanted to try and tell her that I was fine but you know when you’re not fine and someone asks you if you’re fine and suddenly everything is not fine and you just start crying?      Yeah. That happened. So she hugged me and told me everything was going to be okay because she was there and I had reached out and I recognised that I needed help. More help than I was getting.       So we talked and I told her everything. The floodgates were open, Draco. I started talking about one thing and somehow everything came tumbling out after it. But Cissa is an amazing listener and she didn’t offer solutions, not to begin with. She listened and sympathised and held me and comforted me and fucking hell, Draco, she acted like she was my mum. Like she loved me and like she was worried about me and like she cared about me. And I’ve learnt over today, that it isn’t an act. She genuinely loves me and is worried about me and cares about me and I love her so much, Draco. Dear God, you are so fucking lucky to have her as a mum because she is literally the best ever and I love her.       I told her how awful everything is, and she immediately said that she wasn’t going to leave me alone that night. She said she would stay with me for the night and be there for me if I needed her. She said she didn’t feel comfortable leaving me alone with all this darkness in my head. I told her the room she can stay in isn’t clean. It’s a mess. So she said we would clean it together.      It’s Kreacher’s room, Draco. I haven’t touched it since the day he died. I’ve been too scared to. Every now and again I’ll sit by the door trying to work up the courage to start cleaning but every time I turn away and leave the door shut because that was HIS space and I promised never to invade his space because he deserved somewhere all of his own. His room. I never went in his room, even though he said I could go in. But I could never. Because it’s HIS space.       But Cissa needs a place to sleep. She needs somewhere to stay because I am not letting her sleep on my sofa. That’s just plain rude. She needs a proper bed. And Kreacher’s room has one. His room has a cot, which he slept in, and a big double bed. I would say she could have the other spare room, which is right down the other end of the upstairs corridor. But Kreacher’s room is right next to mine and I want her near me. I don’t want Cissa to be so far away. And she said she doesn’t want to be far from me, either.      It took us a while to clean it all. I refused to use any magic because magic is the easy way out. And doing things the muggle way means my mind is busy focusing on the task and not on the demons and the darkness. I know Cissa used magic, but I didn’t mind. I just hate using magic anymore. It reminds me of too much. Besides, my magic is so weak now. I can barely cast a proper Lumos. It’s because I’m falling apart. My magic isn’t in harmony with my mind. I’m a bit out of sorts.       When we finished, we threw out all the old stuff and we put new sheets on the bed and it looked like a proper guest room. No longer Kreacher’s space. No longer a shrine to my house elf. My best friend. But he’s dead. So he doesn’t need it anymore.      I had to go and hide in my room for a bit after that because it was all just so overwhelming. It wasn’t like we threw away Kreacher’s memory. I still have some of his things in a little box. I’m going to ask David to make me a shelf for my bedroom so I can display his things and always keep him in mind. But it was like he was gone for real. It really hit me. Because it doesn’t look like he has lived in my house. It looks like a house elf free home. No trace of him. Apart from his things in my box.       Cissa understood. She said she would ask her elf to bring her some clothes for tonight and tomorrow and said she would start cooking some food. So she left me alone. And I was so alone that it was like she was barely in the house with me. I felt like I had dreamt the whole thing up. Had she really come to the house? Had she really hugged me and made me tea and helped me clean Kreacher’s room?      I almost managed to convince myself that it was all a fever dream, dreamt up in my mad loneliness. Until she knocked on my bedroom door saying food was ready and I should come out and eat something. Because apparently I am still a growing boy even though I am 18. (She said I don’t look healthy and she wants to help me improve my relationship with food. Because I need to eat to survive and I need to survive to live.)       Draco, Cissa had cooked a fucking curry. She said she had found an Indian cooking book at your manor and decided to cook something for me because I’m so out of touch with my ancestors and my heritage that I have never had Indian food. Not even when I was younger and my aunt, uncle and cousin got Indian takeaway. I was never allowed any. (I was never allowed a lot of things in that house, let’s not get sad over the fact that I wasn’t allowed food that linked to my dad’s heritage.)       It was so good. It was the best fucking food I had had in a fucking long time. I did admit that I was surprised she cooked, but she said she had to learn after the war when you guys weren’t allowed elves cuz of all your restrictions. Cissa is the best cook ever. And the curry was fucking fantastic. I ate almost half a plate of food PLUS a poppadom. (Be proud of me. I’ve not eaten that much food in one go in a while.) Cissa said she was proud of me and gave me a hug then I helped her with the washing up because I said I liked doing things the muggle way and she said she would do things the muggle way with me. I love your mum.       And now we’re sitting by the fire. One of your records is playing and Cissa made us both hot chocolates. Mine has marshmallows in it.       We talked more while we’re sitting here and I admitted how much I like having her here because it feels like I had a mum around and I feel so much less alone. I feel loved. And she said how she doesn’t feel good about leaving me tomorrow. And she said how she feels the same when she’s in the manor. It gets so big and lonely and she gets depressed.       Draco, I’ve found who I want to live with me. And yes, I know she’s your mum and I really shouldn’t be stealing her away from you because she’s YOUR mum, not mine. But we talked about it so much over the past few hours and she thinks her moving here will be the best thing for us both. Because we can help each other not be so lonely and we can help each other live.       I think she’s writing to you about it now, actually. Asking for your opinion about it. I’ve said I’ll write to you as well after finishing this therapy letter. You should come down and visit us and we can talk about it all together. Because she’s your mum and ultimately, you need her more than I do. She’s said she’s going to ask you to come down next weekend to talk to us about it all because then we will have had a week to see if we work and can talk to you about how it will all be. And then she said we will go and visit Andi and Teddy because I haven’t seen them since January and it’s not right to neglect to visit family members.       I need to go and write to you now and explain everything before Cissa sends off her owl. Then I’m going to sit on the sofa and put the telly on and drink my hot chocolate before going to bed. Because I’m tired. I’m still so, so tired. Cleaning took a lot out of me. I’m exhausted, Draco. But Cissa said that’s normal. That’s, because of my state of mind and my health, I will get exhausted after doing even the smallest thing because I’m not looking after myself. (She’s not wrong there.)      I can’t wait to tell Helen about this. She will be so goddamn proud of me. And she’ll worry less about me. No doubt she’ll want to speak to Cissa, but she’ll be so proud of me for reaching out and getting the help I need. The extra help. The help to stop me from being so fucking alone all the time.       Sorry this letter feels so all over the place. I’m sort of still struggling to come to terms with the fact that Narcissa Malfoy could be living with me to help me recover. It’s all a bit surreal. If younger me could see this he would be screaming. He wouldn’t believe it. I’m not sure I believe it. I’m half expecting to wake up tomorrow morning to an empty house. But Cissa reassured me that she won’t leave and that this isn’t a fever dream and that she is very, very real and wants to help me. (It does all seem a bit mad but I’m fucking glad it’s real.)       I’ll go and write your letter now. (This is the third therapy letter IN A ROW I’ve ended having to go and write you a real letter. Weird but cool because it shows I’m making an effort to properly communicate with people. With you. With the man who means the most to me in the whole fucking world.) Cissa said she wants me to teach her about the TV as well. She said it confuses her and she doesn’t understand all the muggle technology.       I miss you Draco. I miss you so much. But you’ll be here next weekend and I can give you a hug and see you and be with you. And that’s what I’m clinging onto at the moment. That’s what’s keeping me going. That, and the feeling of not being so alone in my home. It’s funny how the Malfoy’s have become the solutions to my problems. Really fucking surreal.       But then again, we’ve been through a war and everything has changed. Nothing is the same. So having you and your mum being the two key people in helping me doesn’t really surprise me as much as it should. The war changed us all.       My hot chocolate is getting cold. And as much as I love you, I need to drink this hot chocolate because it smells absolutely delicious. Cissa offered to put a warming charm on it but I said no. Kreacher never did that for me. I don’t want anyone else to start doing that for me. I’m practically a muggle again, so I want to do things by muggle ways.       Anyway, I miss you and I love you and I can’t wait to see you next weekend.       Till the next one.      From Harry

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30th March 1999Draco,      It appears that even when I have someone living with me, the urge to off myself doesn’t magically disappear. It doesn’t vanish just because I have extra support sleeping in the room next to mine.       Yeah I tried to kill myself this morning. Well, ‘this morning,’ it was 3am and I had just had a fucking horrific nightmare about running from Death and stumbling across all the people from the war who died and you, Andi, Cissa and Teddy stood staring at me saying it was all my fault they are dead and you told me I should just kill myself to save someone else doing it for me so the Wizarding World can be free from all the hurt I have caused and then the dead will rest easy because then the person who caused their deaths will be dead.      I woke up when Cissa shot a killing curse at me saying I needed to die for what I did to her family. I was crying and all I could hear were your voices in my head telling me to kill myself so that was all I could do. I went into the bathroom and found my razor and, well, yeah. Attempted.       But I didn’t get very far. I thought I was being quiet but Cissa came running in and stopped me and held me while I cried and bled all over her pyjamas. She didn’t attempt to clean me up or say anything. She just sat next to me and took me in her arms and held me tight. So, so tight. She rocked me and hummed quietly to get me to calm down. And only when I had stopped crying did she start looking at my arms and cleaning off the blood and wrapping them in bandages. She said she wanted to heal them with magic because she said that was best but I wouldn’t let her. The scars are my reminders. Y’know?       We went into the kitchen when she had finished cleaning my arms and had scourgified the bathroom floor. She made me a cup of chamomile tea. (Don’t tell Kreacher this, but she made it better than he ever has. Had. His tea was the best, but somehow Cissa’s tasted better.) She sat next to me and held me and just asked me what I needed, and when I told her I needed to die she said she didn’t believe me and asked me what I really needed.       I need my demons to leave me alone. I need the nightmares to stop. I need the trauma to go away. I need some security in my life. I need to be loved and looked after. I need to find a stable balance. I need to start properly looking after myself. I need to stop hiding away in my house. I need to find more friends and grow my small family. I need to grow up and stop being such a fucking recluse. I need to leave my demons behind. I need to let go of the war and the Dursley’s and Dumbledore and Snape and Hogwarts.       I need to be held. I need to be loved. I need to be reassured that in the end, it will all be okay. I need to be told that I will be just fine and that I will get better and outgrow my demons. I need to be fucking held. Draco, I need you.       You who doesn’t ask questions and who just holds me and makes me laugh and reassures me and plays with my hair when I am feeling like shit and tells me all these stupidly funny stories from Hogwarts. You who loves me unconditionally with your hugs and your soft words and your smiles.       Cissa said she can’t get you to come down any sooner because of NEWTs but you’re coming on Saturday. You’re spending the weekend with us. You’re staying in the room down the corridor and will be here to hug me and spend time with me and Cissa.       Me and Cissa. Who are currently sitting in the church.       When I finished my tea, Cissa took me back to bed and she sat with me until I fell asleep again. Then when I woke up, I saw my bedroom door had been left open and so had hers. She wanted to hear me if I woke up needing her again, she said.       She checked my arms, refreshed the bandages where I had bled through, and asked me if I needed anything at that moment once we had finished breakfast. I needed the church. I needed the still, silent peace of the church to combat the war raging in my head.       So this is where we are now. I’m sitting at the back where there is a small table so I can write this. Cissa is sitting on the pew next to me with her eyes closed. Theodore the organ player is back in this morning, so we’re listening to him play. It’s very peaceful. It’s making my brain stay quiet and calm while I splurge all this shit onto the page ready to be sealed and never looked at again. Cissa asked me what it was and I just said they are my therapy letters. Helen got me to do them to help me cope with it all. And they do help. A lot.      Speaking of Helen, she’s very proud of me for now having someone live in with me. I was worried she would be pissy cuz Cissa is a Malfoy, but Helen has no biases in our sessions and she just said she was proud of me for trusting someone so much that I let them move in with me to be there for me in the moments when I really, really needed someone. She thinks that having Cissa with me is going to help me more than I can imagine, because I won’t be alone. I have a mother figure living with me who loves me and who wants the best for me and who wants to look after me and make sure I am alright.       I know in your letter you said that you were happy for Cissa to move in and to stay with me, but I can’t help feeling that you really don’t want her to. And I could be reading into this far too much but it just came across like you thought I am stealing your mum away from you and you don’t want her to move in with me. Which is completely fair. I think if I had a mum, I wouldn’t want to share her with anyone else. (But who knows if I would’ve thought that. I never got to have a mum.)       I know you said it seems like the best solution because then we won’t be so lonely in our own empty homes and can be together to help each other but I don’t know, Draco. It just seemed to me like you were pissed off. I don’t know. I guess we’ll find out at the weekend, huh?       God, I really can’t wait to see you. I mean I really, really can’t wait to see you and your smile and your stupid posh clothes. And I can’t wait to be hugged by you because your hugs make me go weak at the fucking knees, I love them so much Draco. I love you so much.      I think I figured that out about a week ago. You’re always on my mind and I’m always thinking about you and I just sort of realised I loved you. I love you. I mean, I can’t tell you this, because Cissa said you’re getting on very well with Astoria, and I know you would never love me like I love you. I’m too broken to be loved at the moment, but I love you. I love you so, so much, Draco. I want to be with you all the time, listening to your laugh, feeling your arms around me, talking about nothing and everything at the same time.       Ugh, I’m pathetic. I’ll need to talk through all this shit with Helen cuz I sure as hell can’t talk to Cissa about it. I just need to process these feelings and get past them because you and I, realistically, will never happen. I can fantasise and hypothesise all I want, but there will never be a Draco-and-Harry. Not with how everything is.       I fucking hate big emotions. Making me want to cry. Sometimes I do still wonder at how I haven’t run out of tears yet. I’ve cried more in the last year than I have in my entire life before the battle. How can one man store so many tears?       My arms are really starting to hurt writing this now and I think Cissa is getting cold sitting in here. I think we’re going to go back to my house and make lunch together and sit by the fire. Maybe I can teach Cissa how to play cards like how I played with Kreacher. That would be nice. That would be really nice. I’ve missed playing cards.      I don’t want to leave the peace of the church, but the church isn’t going anywhere. I can always come back again. And I think I will. I don’t know when, yet, but I will definitely come back. I love this place. Almost as much as I love you.      Till the next one.      From Harry

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4th April 1999Draco,      I never want to leave your side. Not anymore. Not after you found me in the church this morning and wrapped me in a blanket and sat with me in silence with your arm around me, letting me lean against you while the church choir practised their hymns. And then you walked me home with your arm still around me, keeping me warm and comforting me. Loving me. Always comforting me and loving me, trying to make me smile.       I do, however, feel kind of awful about burdening you with this. It’s bad enough your mum has to put up with me in this state, even if I am vaguely better in the sense that my loneliness isn’t as massive as it used to be. I don’t like it that you have to see me like this, all fucked up and depressed and that. You’re my favourite person, you don’t need to see me like this. You don’t need to worry about me. You have enough to worry about at Hogwarts without me adding to your troubles. I wish you didn’t worry about me. I hate it that you worry.       Okay fine, I like it when you comfort me, but that doesn’t have to come out of worry. Y’know you can hug me just cuz? You don’t have to worry about me to hug me. I will take any excuse to hug you or lean against you cuz I fucking love being near you and being in your arms. You make me feel safe, Draco. Safe and loved.       Lying with you on the sofa after lunch was the best. Literally the best ever. Just you and me lying together, listening to one of the records you bought me, the one with the piano music, and talking about nothing in particular while Cissa read by the fire. I felt part of a family and I felt so loved and safe. I felt like everything was okay. Even though my arms hurt and even though I knew you couldn’t stay forever. But I felt like it was all okay and like I was fine. Properly fine, I mean. Not ‘I’m saying I’m fine to stop you from worrying about me’ but genuinely okay.       I haven’t felt like that in ages, but I always seem to feel like that when I’m with you. Maybe that’s why I’ve fallen in love with you. Because you make me feel okay and loved and safe. Or maybe it’s just cuz you’re you and I’m me and I think we fit. Even if I know we can never happen. But I’m going to talk to Helen about that and she can help me accept it. I would talk to Cissa but she’s your mum and I know she’s set on the idea of you and Astoria so there’s no way I’m talking to her about it.      Speaking of Cissa, I cannot tell you how fucking grateful I am that you are okay with her staying with me for a while. I do still kinda feel that you think I’m stealing your mum away from you, but you seemed 100% okay with it all. You said you thought it would be the best thing for both of us cuz we can keep each other company and help each other when shit hits the fan. (I guess that’s a little more Cissa helping me because I am very good at letting shit hit the fan.)       I’m also really fucking glad that you’re staying the night here. You’re just down the hall from me at the moment. (Yes, I know it’s unhealthy that I’m writing at 3am but I couldn’t sleep and I didn’t write earlier cuz I genuinely was tired and I did fall asleep but then I woke up and I couldn’t go back to sleep. So I write.) It means I get to spend the rest of today with you. We can go and see Miriam and David possibly and we can go walk around with Cissa. Maybe I can show you my parents’ grave. That would be nice. I can show you my favourite areas down here. Or maybe we can get Andi and Teddy over here for a visit. I haven’t seen them in ages. Cissa wants the two of us to go and visit them soon anyway, because she says it will be healthy for me to get out of the house and see them. See more of my family. I think it’s Teddy’s birthday soon anyway, so we’ll see them for that. Hopefully you’ll be there for that as well.      I don’t want you to leave. I know that’s selfish of me, because you sound like you actually enjoy Hogwarts now that everything has settled down and that you are getting on okay and you have your friends and are having an okay time. (Aside from your NEWTs, obviously. They sound stressful as hell. I am so glad I don’t have those to stress over as well!)       I just love having you here, in my house, within arms reach. And I know that sounds creepy as hell but I’m comforted simply by the knowledge that if I want a hug, you’re there to give me a hug. You’re going to be there when I come downstairs for breakfast and you’ll be here all day until you have to go back to Hogwarts in the evening. I still wish you could stay longer. Maybe you can in the holidays. If I’m still here by the holidays. And if you and Cissa want to. I have a feeling you’ll both want to be back in Malfoy Manor for the holidays and not stuck here in my little muggle neighbourhood. My special muggle neighbourhood.       I’m glad I get to share this place with you though. Yeah, sure, some part of me still wishes it was Ron and Hermione who I was this close with because they are my best friends, but you’re Draco. You’re different and I’m so glad I get to show you this part of my life. I’m glad you agreed to visit Andi and Teddy back in September because it led to this. This special, magical friendship that makes me feel on top of the fucking world.      I miss Ron and Hermione. And Ginny and Luna and George and Charlie and Seamus and Dean and Neville and everyone. But especially Ron and Hermione. I haven’t heard from them at all. No letters. Nothing. I need to write to them both. Cuz they’re my best friends and I miss them both so much and I just want everything to be okay between us just in case something happens. Either to me or to them. Most likely to me. At this rate, I’m either going to off myself or run away to a different fucking country to get away from all my demons.       My demons still comfort me sometimes. Even though I have Cissa and you. My demons are always there, always watching and listening and telling me to do stuff. They’re here now, telling me to stop writing and to go into the bathroom and prove again how fragile human skin is. They want me to leave a bigger blood stain on the bathroom floor. So big it can’t be removed. They don’t want me to survive because they think dying is the best solution for me at the moment. They always think dying is the best solution.      But I can’t do that to you and Cissa. I can’t off myself with you both in the house. That’s not fair on you. Besides, you’re both reasons for me to keep going. Reasons for me to ignore my demons and push through it all and keep fucking living. And anyway, I don’t want to do that. Not right now. I want to go back to bed.      Well, I want to climb into your bed and lie with you and fall asleep listening to your heartbeat. But I can’t do that. So I’ll just get back into my own bed and go to sleep. Casper is here as well. He came through my bedroom window when we all went to bed and I found him asleep on my pillow. He’s not left yet. I think he’s waiting for me to come back to sleep now. He keeps looking over at me and stretching his paws out at me as if he’s asking me to come back to bed.       I really should go back to bed. I’m tired and I don’t want you or Cissa to get up and see my light on and come and worry over me. I really need to sleep anyway. I’m so, so tired, Draco. I’m exhausted. I feel like my bones have turned to lead and my eyelids are stone walls and my head is a block of rock. I’m so fucking tired. I need to sleep. For like, a week. But that’s not going to happen because Cissa won’t let me do that. And besides, Helen says sleeping for a very long time will just make everything worse. So, y’know. I really shouldn’t do that, even if it’s the one thing I really want to do. (Apart from hugging you. But I always want to do that.)       Anyway, I really am going to go to sleep now. My wrist hurts from writing and the other stuff. And I’m so fucking tired.       Till the next one.      From Harry

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6th April 1999Draco,      My demons aren’t very happy that Cissa lives with me now because it means I ignore them a lot more and I do things that make me happy. I eat more, I sleep better, I talk to Cissa. I don’t feel so lonely anymore. I feel better. I feel a lot better.      Having Cissa here has literally changed me. She loves me and looks after me and makes sure I am okay almost all the time. I love it so, so much.       Right, yeah, so things aren’t perfect and it’s still really shit sometimes, like when Cissa and I had an argument yesterday because I wouldn’t get out of bed because I missed you and the house magic felt all cold and miserable and I also just didn’t want to get out of bed. But Cissa said I had to but I refused to so we argued and I shut her out of my room.       Yes, I apologised for shouting at her and she gave me a hug when I did get up and we made tea together and watched the telly. But yeah it’s not perfect. It’s getting better, but it’s not perfect.       I miss you again. I miss you like I miss part of my soul. You’re the most important person to me right now and I miss you so much.      Oh yeah, I wrote to Ron and Hermione and their letters arrived today. Ron said he’s still pissed at me for what I said to Molly but he misses me as well, and Hermione said she really misses me and wants to see me. So maybe I’ll try and meet them soon. If I stop being so tired.      I’m still so tired. My bones ache with how tired I am. When I told Helen this morning about being this tired, she said it was because I am getting better and I’m not used to feeling like this or being around people all the time so it’s exhausting me. But she said it’s a good thing because it means I’m starting to properly recover.       Sometimes it doesn’t feel like I am recovering. Sometimes I still feel like dying. Or running away. Y’know, to a different country. Australia or New Zealand or the States or Canada. Somewhere far away from all this. The memories and my demons and the past. Because I feel like running away will help me so, so much. I can run away and grow and be an entirely new person and get better far away from everything that’s hurting me. I do feel like that’s a good solution.       But I’ll keep that as backup. I want to try my hardest to heal here first, and if that doesn’t work, then you bet your sweet arse I am booking it from this country. I’ll go and be an unknown muggle somewhere else. I’ll get a job. Maybe I can even get a partner. Who knows. But I’m going to try so hard here, Draco. I promise.       I don’t want to leave you behind. I don’t want to leave you and Cissa and Andi and Teddy and Miriam and David. Because you guys are my little family and I love you all beyond anything I can describe. And I really don’t want to leave you. So I will try. I will try so, so hard.       Cissa’s calling me right now. She wants me to come and help her cook lunch. She’s making a chicken curry. It smells really good.       Till the next one.      From Harry

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9th April 1999Draco,      Miriam and David visited me and Cissa today. They said that they missed me  and wanted to see what I was up to lately and were very excited when they saw Cissa and she told them that she was staying with me for a while. Miriam got very happy and gave Cissa a hug and said ‘thank you for helping our Harry.’ (Yes, Draco, I nearly cried. I felt so loved.)       We all went to sit in the garden cuz it was actually nice and warm and I made tea for us all and Cissa cut the cake for us. (We baked a carrot cake yesterday. It’s so tasty.) I told Miriam that Cissa was your mum and she got very excited then as well cuz she recognised the jewellery that Cissa was wearing as the jewellery that she helped me pick out at Yule.       Miriam and Cissa got along very well and David and I sat together talking about gardening. David said he wants to help me build a birdhouse in the garden and he wants to get me some bird feeders. He wants to revamp my entire garden because apparently it is too plain and not ‘gardeny’ enough. (His words haha.) According to him, I need to cut the grass and then plant lots of flowers and some vegetables as well. Miriam said I should get a greenhouse to grow tomatoes and shit. She said that growing veg gives a sense of purpose and something to fill the day with. So I’m not stuck inside all day being depressed, I look after veg and plants and my garden and the birds.       David said that’s how he likes to spend his days. Tending to his garden. I love their garden as well. It looks so beautiful and they grow really nice food. They brought some of their strawberries over to have with the cake which were absolutely delicious.       We sat in the garden for ages, chatting and eating cake and strawberries and drinking tea. Both Miriam and David love Cissa a lot and I think she likes them as well. She said to me once they left that she wasn’t surprised I secretly called them my grandparents, because it is clear how much they love me and care for me.       Anyway, the main point of this letter was to tell you about the gift Miriam brought for me. She told me that she knew I was a bit of a lost soul and thought that I might be able to find myself or elements of what I am feeling in the poetry of this American poet called Sylvia Plath. (Ironic, given that Plath killed herself.) Miriam said that Plath wrote about herself and her feelings and was a bit of a messed up woman in the sense that she struggled a lot with her mental health and depression. Confessional poetry, she called it. Apparently that shit was very popular in the USA in the 1950s and 1960s.       Well, Miriam has given me a bound collection of Sylvia Plath’s poetry, saying she hopes I find some peace in her words and her poems, so when she and David left and after Cissa and I had made lunch, I went back into the garden to read some of the poetry. It turns out that I have the complete collection of Plath’s work, all her published poems, which is kind of cool. She’s written a lot. It’s not all confessional poetry, but most of it is. I’ve not read all of it yet, but I’ve read quite a few this afternoon. So far my favourite is her one called ‘Poppies in July.’ Little poppies, little hell flames,Do you do no harm?You flicker, I cannot touch you.I put my hands among the flames. Nothing burns. And it exhausts me to watch youFlickering like that, wrinkly and clear red, like the skin of a mouth. A mouth just bloodied.Little bloody skirts! There are fumes that I cannot touch.Where are your opiates, your nauseous capsules? If I could bleed, or sleep! -If my mouth could marry a hurt like that! Or your liquors seep to me, in this glass capsule,Dulling and stilling. But colorless, colorless. It’s a really sad poem, but I really like it. It’s all me, really. She’s trapped and the poppies aren’t letting her hurt herself but they aren’t helping her get better either. They are ignoring her too. She’s asking all these questions but the poppies have no answers for her. All they can do is stop her from hurting herself. Pretty useless poppies to be honest. What’s their use if all they do is stop the pain? They’re not offering any other source of comfort. They’re just there.       I don’t really know how to explain it, Draco. But I get the poem. I understand what she was trying to say, I think. She feels trapped by the poppies and she resents them for stopping her from hurting herself and for now doing anything more.       I’m absolutely not saying I see this in my life. Cissa and Helen aren’t the poppies for me. I don’t really think I have poppies. My demons make me hurt myself, and while Cissa and Helen try to stop me from hurting myself, they do much more as well. Helen talks through all my shit with me and Cissa does a huge amount for me. I can’t put into words how much Cissa helps me. So yeah, I’m not saying I see myself in the poem, but I get where Plath’s coming from. I get what she was trying to say. And I feel good about that. I feel at peace with it. Y’know?       I like her poetry so far. It’s nice to read and it makes me feel seen, sort of. She writes a lot about herself and her mental health. Her shitty mental health. I kind of want to read more about her now. She sounds like a really interesting woman y’know? I want to learn more about her.       Well anyway. I like her poems and I’m glad Miriam and David came over today. I’ve missed them. Obviously I saw Miriam briefly when you were here and we were in the church listening to the choir. I had no idea she was in the church choir. But apart from that I’ve barely seen them recently. I’ve missed them. Not as much as I miss you though. I really miss you.       I feel like I say that every letter now but I really don’t give a shit cuz these are my letters and I can say whatever the fuck I want in them and I’m going to say that I miss you. I really miss you, Draco. Like I miss part of my soul. I think I’ve said that before but again, I don’t care. Because I really fucking miss you and I pretty much always wish you were here. You’re my favourite person, Draco, and I miss you. A lot. Probably more than is good for me but I don’t care. I want to see you again. Maybe I can come and visit you at Hogwarts soon because I miss you so goddamn much.      I need to go and write to Ron and Hermione again. I have letters from them waiting for me on the kitchen table. They arrived a couple days ago but I haven’t had the energy to reply. But I have to reply or Cissa will write to them and that is the last thing I want because I know exactly how they will react to that and I really, really don’t want that to happen. So I’m going to go and write to them now before Cissa decides she will reply because I’m too useless.       Till the next one.      From Harry

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11th April 1999Draco,      Today was the fucking best ever and I had such a fun time. Not just because I saw you and was with you all day, but because Teddy was so happy and was so chatty and he can say my name properly and he had such a good day. It was a good day. It was a very good day.       I can’t lie, when Cissa and I got Andi’s letter yesterday inviting us over for Teddy’s birthday, I was worried that I would be in a shitty head space and would bring the mood down because Remus and Tonks should be there to see their son turn one. But they weren’t there and they never will be there for any of his birthdays because they’re dead.       But I can be there for his birthdays. Me and you and Andi and Cissa. His new family. We will love him and be there for him and make sure he grows up feeling so loved. I never want him to lack anything. I want to give him the world. My little godson. I want to make sure he doesn’t grow up like I did with no living family. He needs to know just how loved he is.       I think he does know, though, because when we arrived he instantly screamed my name and toddled over demanding a hug. I didn’t realise he could walk now but I guess I should’ve known. He’s one now, and apparently kids usually start walking around one. (I didn’t. Aunt Petunia said I didn’t start walking until I was three. And I didn’t start talking until I was six. But my childhood was different.)       Being just our little family, you, me, Cissa, Andi and Teddy, was the best ever. The whole day was the best ever. Teddy was so happy and Andi’s cooking was delicious and the weather was perfect and warm for it all. Genuinely the best. (Sorry, I’m still riding out the high and my words aren’t working very well haha. Plus, Cissa and I are drinking wine cuz we can. So words are difficult.)      Also, I love you, Draco. I really love you. It’s too big to deny or not talk about anymore. Helen and I went over it in our last session. She said love is a good emotion but I said it’s bad very bad because I don’t think you’re gay or bi or whatever. I think you’re straight and are going to marry Astoria. Helen thinks that’s bullshit because of how you act with me. How you always want to be touching me, holding me, hugging me, leaning against me, your hand on my back or on my arm or playing with my hair. How you’re always looking out for me, always wanting to be around me, and the fucking way you look at me, Draco, Jesus Christ stop it or I’ll fall so much harder than I already have.       It’s not fair, Draco. Because Cissa says Astoria is spending the next holidays with the two of you and she says you’ve been spending a lot of time with her up at Hogwarts and you’re going to get married, aren’t you? You and Astoria. You’re going to get married and move in together and have a bunch of beautiful kids and live a perfect pureblood life. But that’s okay because it’s your life. It’s not mine.       Maybe I do need to leave soon. Get out of here. Away from this place. Away from this country. Then I can find my own person to fall in love with. Someone who isn’t you. I need to get over you because this isn’t fair, Draco. It’s not fair for you to touch me like you love me but then go and love someone else. You can’t do this to a broken man, Draco.       But whatever. Today was fantastic. Today was Teddy’s day and he had the best time and I got to spoil my little godson. My Teddy. My favourite person. (Aside from you. But Teddy is Teddy. I see a lot of myself in Teddy. My teddy. My little godson.)       My head feels all fuzzy. Cissa won’t let me have anymore wine though, because she made me tell her about my track record with alcohol and what it does to me and what I then do afterwards. When I’m drunk beyond sense. When my demons are so loud. When my razor is my only comfort. So she’s not letting me have any more wine. Which is sad, because I want more. I want to drown out the voices in my head with the sweet alcohol, making me forget and making me feel all warm and safe and like everything will be okay as long as I just      Well anyway. Today was so good. You are so good. Teddy was so good. It was all good. So good. I wish you could’ve stayed here tonight. I wish you didn’t have to go back to Hogwarts. I wish I never had to leave you. I wish I was always by your side. I love you, Draco. I love you, I love you, I love you. I love you so much it hurts.       I’m going to go before I start crying. Cissa is already asking me if I am okay. She’s saying I look like I am about to cry. Well maybe that’s because I am about to cry. I don’t want to cry. I don’t want to love you like this. I want to be okay, Draco, I want to be normal and okay and fine and I want to be good.       But I’m never good. I’m fucked up, Draco. I’m always fucked up. I’m not good enough for love.       I’m about to cry.       Today was so good, Draco. It was so, so good. It was the best.      Till the next one.      From Harry

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17th April 1999Draco,      I hate you. I hate you so much. I hate you with every fibre of my being. You make me rage.       Stop looking at me like that, Draco. Stop looking at me as if I’ve hung the moon and as if you’re in love with me. Stop looking at me as if I’m the only person in the world who is important to you. Stop looking at me with those grey, grey eyes, so full of love, so full of adoration. Stop looking at me as if you love me. As if I am the one person for you. As if you are in love.      Stop it. Because it’s not fair. Because I love you. I love you more than anything but I can’t have you. You’re so close yet so fucking far out of my reach because I can’t have you and because you’re not in love with me. So stop looking at me as if you’re in love with me because I know you aren’t. Because you basically told me that today.       You had the nerve to show up at my house and drag me to a coffee shop in town, saying I needed to get out of the house and experience the outside world. You had the fucking gall to pay for the coffee and choose a booth to sit in. You’re fucking crazy and I hate you so much I want to kiss you.       I want to sweep you off your feet and kiss you and hold you and call you mine. I want to love you openly without fear. I want to love you unconditionally, outwardly. I want to take you on dates and hold your hand and kiss your lips and be in your arms. I want to be yours, Draco.       But I can never be yours. Even though you look at me as if you love me more than anything else in the world. Because when you talk about Astoria, your face lights up and your eyes go bright and soft and your body relaxes. You’re in love with Astoria and I’m hopelessly in love with you. You’re so close but you’re so far out of my reach.       Why do you look at me as if you’re in love with me when you are not? Why do you touch me as if I’m the only person you love when I am not? Why do you act as if you are enamoured by me when you are not? Draco what are you doing? I  don’t understand, Draco, I don’t understand. Help me understand, please.      I love spending time with you. I love being with you. I loved going to the coffee shop today and I loved sitting with you and chatting for ages about nothing and everything while drinking cheap coffee and eating chocolate muffins. I loved it when you held my hand when I was overwhelmed. I loved it when you shifted to sit next to me and put your arm around me. I loved it. All of it. It was a perfect date.      Except you don’t love me. So it wasn’t a perfect date.       God, I don’t know what to do with myself, Draco. I don’t know what to do with you. I’m hopelessly in love with you but you don’t want me. So what am I supposed to do? Huh? Please, tell me. Explain it to me. Fucking spell it out for me. I would love for you to explain everything to me. Tell me what I need to do to stop being in love with you. Tell me how to get past the ache in my chest that longs to be near you. Tell me how to fix this, Draco. Because I have no idea what to do or where to turn. I’m confused, Draco. I’m scared, I’m confused and I just don’t know what to do.      I don’t want to be in love with you anymore. I don’t want to ache for you anymore. I don’t want you to even exist in my mind. Because it hurts, Draco. Dear God it hurts. And I don’t want it to hurt anymore. I don’t want to hurt. Everything hurts and I’m sick of hurting and love isn’t supposed to hurt. Love is supposed to be soft and warm and kind. But this love hurts because it’s one sided. God, Draco, I can’t do this anymore.  I can’t be in love with you anymore. It hurts too much.       I think I’m just gonna go. Leave. Leave everything behind. Move away. I need change. I need to heal. I need to not be in pain anymore. I need to be a normal fucking guy. I want to be in love like a normal guy. I want the love to be reciprocated. I want to be okay. And I don’t think I can truly be okay while I’m here. In England. I think I need to leave.       I mean, I won’t. Not yet, at least. I need to think about it a lot. I need to talk to Helen and Cissa. Possibly Miriam and David too. And I need to spend time with my friends and I need to be so sure in my decision if I leave. But everything hurts so much here.       It’s at times like this when I wish I had my mum and dad here to help me. I wish Mum and Dad were here, ready to hold me and listen to me and be my supportive, loving parents. They would know what to do. They would know how to help me.      But then again, if they were here, the only thing I would have problems with, would be unrequited love. Like a normal teenage guy. I wouldn’t be tormented with memories of abuse and neglect and a war. I’d just be in love. I wouldn’t be fucked up from my past.       I’ve been robbed of so fucking much and I am fucking sick of having things taken from me. Because it’s too much. It’s too much for me, Draco. All of this. I’ve never had the chance to just be a kid. Be a teenager. Be in love and be normal. And now I have the chance to be normal, I’m too fucked up for it.      I don’t think I’m ever going to be normal. I think I’ve been fucked over too much to be normal. But maybe I can heal and get better and be almost normal. I want to be almost normal. I want to be okay, Draco. I don’t want to hurt anymore.       Cissa is calling me. She’s worried about me, I know it. Maybe that’s because when you brought me back home and disappeared off to Hogwarts, I went straight to my room and shut the door. It’s been an hour since you left and Cissa has given me my space but now she’s worried. Maybe she’s worried I’ve offed myself or hurt myself or am bleeding out on my bedroom floor. She worries too much. But I always give her reason to worry. So it is all my fault.       I’m going to go and see her now. So she stops worrying. Maybe she can help me forget for a while. We can sit and chat and make food and watch shitty telly. We can be okay. I can be normal for a moment and I can ignore the ache in my chest that yearns for your arm around me.       I’m useless. I’m fucking useless. I hate this. I hate you. (I love you. I miss you. I love you.) I hate you so much.       Till the next one.       From Harry

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19th April 1999Draco,      It’s all black and dark again. It’s all a big, long, twisty black spiral downwards into the arms of my demons, my demons who welcome me and hold me and comfort me and tell me the best thing to do to make the pain go away. To make myself feel better, so much better but so much worse.       Cissa is out of her depth. I feel awful for her being here, out of her depth, stuck with me. She’s struggling with me being like this. I know she is. She’s seen so much pain, she told me, she can’t understand why anyone would inflict pain on themselves. Life is beautiful, she always says, so why would I make myself hurt? I tell her I’m not the one who makes myself hurt but my demons are to blame there and she tells me that they’re the same as me.      I left a big blood stain on the bathroom floor this time. You can still kind of see it. Cissa scourgified it so many times but there’s still a stain. She said she’ll call someone in to remove the floor and retile it. I don’t want her too. I want the stain to stay as a reminder. It’s such a big one because she didn’t find me for ages. I was sitting there on the bathroom floor, bleeding and bleeding and bleeding.       You know there’s five litres of blood in the human body. That never really seems like a big amount until you see it gushing out of you, pouring out of your arms and legs, staining you and your clothes and your floor. It doesn’t scare me to see all that blood. It comforts me. It reminds me that I am actually still human and I can bleed and die just like a human can.       I miss Kreacher, Draco. I miss Kreacher so much. This is so much harder without him. He would’ve found me before I’d sliced my arms and legs to ribbons. He would’ve found me before it got too far, then would’ve cleaned me up and wrapped my arms and legs up and made me tea and put me to bed. He would’ve known exactly what to do. And he wouldn’t have let me get so far.       Don’t get me wrong, Cissa is fab here, but she’s so out of her depth. She’s floundering in the deep end. I wish Kreacher was here. He would be the best. He would be perfect. He always was perfect. He was my best friend. But he is dead and he’s never coming back. Maybe I should go and join him. I miss him so much and I’m putting Cissa through so much pain here. Everything would just be better if I did fuck off and die. It’s too much. Too loud.       At least I have the peace of the church. Cissa and I are back here. The choir is here as well, practising. We’re at the back like we were last time I tried to kill myself, Cissa in the pew and me at the table. Writing. Though my arms hurt and my legs hurt and I just want to curl up and die. Except I can’t do that. So I want to curl up and go to bed. But Cissa wouldn’t let me. Once she had helped me clean up, she dragged me back to the church because she knew it helped me. The peace. The quiet. And the choir is making everything better.       Miriam smiled at me when we walked in. She’s going to come up to me once they’ve done, I know it. She’ll want to give me a hug and tell me to drop in and see her and David. I miss her and David. I feel like I haven’t seen them in ages. I love them both to bits and I need to see them again. I just don’t want to be in so much pain when I do see them. Because pain is bad. Even though I am always in pain.       I don’t want to be in pain anymore, Draco. Pain is bad and I am always in pain and I am fucking sick of pain, I’m sick of hurting and being sad and being in pain and hurting and being depressed and being fucked up. I want to stop. I want it all to stop. I don’t want to be in pain anymore, I don’t want to hurt anymore. Draco, I want it all to stop. Please, please make it stop.       The choir is singing my favourite hymn at the moment. I say my favourite hymn, I don’t really like any of the hymns, but this one is beautiful when the choir sings it with all their harmonies and without the organ. It sounds gorgeous. And I guess the message is that you are not alone and that Jesus is always with you, looking over you, keeping you safe, so it’s kind of comforting, but it also isn’t, because if Jesus is always looking out for me, then why is he not helping me get better? Why is he allowing me to slice myself open and bleed half to death?       It’s still a beautiful hymn though. It’s called In Christ Alone. Miriam said it was her favourite hymn because it makes her feel less alone and it makes her feel safer, like Jesus is always with her. I like the hymn. It’s beautiful.      Draco, I don’t know how much longer I can do this. I don’t know how much more I can take of all this. It’s too much for me. All of this is too much for me. Christ on a bike, Draco, I’m only 18. 18!!! I haven’t had a chance to live yet, Draco. It’s too much for me. All of this is too much for me. Far too much. I can’t deal with it for much longer. I think I need to leave. I think I need to get away from it all. I think I need to move away and leave and escape from all of this because I really can’t take much more of this, Draco. It’s too much. It’s far too much.       I think I’m going to stop writing now. My arms hurt too much and I want to go and lie in bed and drink tea and feel sorry for myself. I want to sleep. I need to sleep. I’m so fucking tired, Draco. I’m always tired. I’m so tired my bones are tired. They’re heavy like lead and I need to sleep for a week. More than a week. I need to sleep for so, so long. I hurt so much. I hurt and I’m tired and I’m sad. I need to just stop. I need everything to stop.       The choir has just finished practising. Miriam is looking at me like she’s about to come and give me a hug, so I’m going to stop writing now. I’m going to see Miriam and then Cissa and I will go home and we will make food and sit in the garden and I’ll sit by Kreacher’s grave and tell him about how life is going and then I’ll go to bed. Because I’m so tired. I’m so tired and everything hurts and everything sucks.       Till the next one.      From Harry

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22nd April 1999Draco,  Poppies in October. Sylvia Plath. Even the sun-clouds this morning cannot manage such skirts.Nor the woman in the ambulanceWhose red heart blooms through her coat so astoundingly — A gift, a love giftUtterly unasked for By a sky Palely and flamilyIgniting its carbon monoxides, by eyesDulled to a halt under bowlers. O my God, what am IThat these late mouths should cry openIn a forest of frost, in a dawn of cornflowers. Till the next one.From Harry

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25th April 1999Draco,       Things do feel a bit better now it’s warmer. Cissa and I are spending more time in the garden, reading. We’ve been on a lot of walks around the village and we went to the coffee shop that you and I went to that one time. We’re spending more time outside, and Helen says that that is the best thing. Outside healing is best.       I keep wishing that you were here though. I always wish that you were here, and I think Cissa has picked up on the fact that I miss you. But I always miss you, so it’s not as if that’s anything new, y’know? I’m trying to not miss you as much as I do, but it’s hard to not miss my favourite person. I know I have your letters but it’s not the same. I want you to be here in person so I can hug you and lean against you and be with you. Cuz I miss you. A lot. I’m trying to cope with it but it’s hard. I always miss you.      I’ve also been doing a lot of thinking about my future and about what I’m going to do with my life. I don’t think I’m going to kill myself. Those urges have gotten smaller. They’ve not gone, but they’re not as massive as they used to be. I sort of want to leave. Y’know, leave the country and get out into the world and explore and see if I can find myself while travelling. Maybe I could settle down in a different country and find someone who loves me and start a family of my own. I could be a husband and a dad, Draco. I could do so much with my life.      Dreaming about moving has become quite a big pastime of mine. When I’m sitting and doing nothing, I think about living somewhere else, starting a new life under a new name, becoming a whole new person. I lie in bed at night dreaming about being a better person who isn’t trapped by his trauma in a country that scares him. (Yes, this country scares me. Specifically the wizarding community. I’ve seen the papers cuz Cissa reads them. All that speculation of me and what I’m doing with my life. I hate it. I hate it so much.)       Being somewhere else as someone else I think would be the best thing for me at this rate. I feel trapped behind a barrier of my own making here and I have no idea how to break it while I’m still here, surrounded by what I know.       I really don’t want to leave Teddy though. Teddy is my godson. He is like me. He’s an orphan who is living with family and has a godfather who is messed up. Except Teddy lives with his loving family, and his godfather is around to watch him grow up. Mine was an abusive family and my godfather was locked up in Azkaban. My godfather wasn’t in my life because he was physically unable to be in my life. Teddy’s godfather, me, well, I could be in his life. I could always be in his life, and yet I can’t recover while I’m trapped here. And I really don’t want Teddy to grow up without knowing me. I want him to know me and to know how much I adore him and cherish him.      But sometimes, in order to completely heal, people need to give up things. ‘For the greater good’ as old Dumby called it. (I hate that man.) I wouldn’t abandon Teddy, I’d NEVER abandon Teddy. I love that kid with my whole heart. He is everything to me and I want to always be there for him. Hell, I’d even adopt him if Andi could no longer look after him. I’d make sure he had the best life. I’d be the best godfather to him. I’d make sure he knew who his real parents are and I’d show him photos and tell him all about them and make sure he knew they were heroes and they were the best people in the whole world.       If I do decide to leave in the end, I’ll make sure I don’t abandon Teddy. I’ll write him letters, I’ll send him photos, I’ll send him gifts. (Yes, I’ll do the same for you, Draco, don’t worry.) I’ll make sure he remembers me and I’ll always come back for him. Even if I do settle down in a different country, I’ll always visit Teddy. I’ll never leave him on his own. And if I do settle down but I need to adopt Teddy, then I’ll move back over for him in a heartbeat. He will always come first for me. After I’ve healed, Teddy will be my priority. No matter what happens. Because he is my little godson and I love him more than life itself.       Leaving, I think at this point, would be the best thing for me. I need to talk to Helen about it though, because she knows what’s best for me and if she agrees, then I will go. I’ll come back, but I’ll go and look after myself first. And I think if I do go, I’ll leave you these letters. I’ll let you, the real you, Draco, read these letters so you fully understand it all. Because I know you’re always asking me if I am okay and you never believe my bullshit answers and you always ask me to explain it to you and explain what you can do to help. But I can’t explain it to you. But these letters can explain it to you.       Right, I know how I always used to say how no-one will ever read these letters because they’re raw and open and honest and show my complete vulnerability as a broken and traumatised man. But I need someone else to understand it all. I need someone else to have seen the full picture. Helen hasn’t even seen the full picture. These letters show everything though, Draco. And I think you should be able to understand it all. It will completely help you realise why I left and why I’ve been struggling so much over the last year after the war.       And I’ll be so far away that you won’t be able to talk to me about it all when you read them. I’ll be so far away when you discover how much I love you.       But I haven’t decided if I’m going to leave yet. I haven’t decided what’s going to happen. I need to talk to Helen. I need to do a lot of thinking. I also need to sleep. I’m so tired. So, so tired.      Till the next one.      From Harry

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27th April 1999Draco, Child. Sylvia Plath. Your clear eye is the one absolutely beautiful thing.I want to fill it with color and ducks,The zoo of the newWhose name you meditate —April snowdrop, Indian pipe,Little Stalk without wrinkle,Pool in which imagesShould be grand and classical Not this troublousWringing of hands, this darkCeiling without a star. I could’ve had so much. I could’ve had a childhood full of love and warmth and a family who actually wanted me there. I could’ve grown up as a valued human being with loving parents and not been traumatised from my aunt and uncle and cousin. Fuck me, Draco, I could’ve had the best life. Yet it was all stolen from me and I grew up unloved, abused and forgotten about. I grew up with my own dark ceiling without a star. I lived in a cupboard, Draco. A fucking cupboard.       I was robbed of the most beautiful life with a loving family and left to rot in an abusive house before being turned into a weapon for the Light. I was fucked over by so many people and left this broken man who barely knows what to do with himself anymore. I’m lost. So lost. I wish you were here. I could really do with one of your hugs right now.       I think I should just leave. Run away. Start again. I’m so lost. So, so lost.      Till the next one.      From Harry

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30th April 1999Draco,     I don’t think I am getting better anymore. I think being here, surrounded by memories, is dragging me down. Refusing to let me get any better. Sure, I improved with Cissa living with me, but I don’t think I’m going to get any better unless I move away from all of this.       Maybe I really do just need a few months or a couple of years living somewhere else. A different country. A fresh start as someone new in a new place where I have no memories of war and neglect.       I don’t really want to leave all of this behind, though. I don’t want to leave you, or Andi or Cissa or my little Teddy. My godson. God, didn’t I say that I didn’t want to end up being like Sirius? A deadbeat godfather who can’t see his godson. I don’t want to leave Teddy and not see him because I love him like I’d love my own child. I practically consider him to be my own child. I can’t leave him behind.      But I need to leave to get better. I am stuck behind a barrier being here and I need to break that barrier to get better completely. So I need to leave to break it but I don’t want to leave.       I love you, Draco. I love you and I love Teddy and Andi and Cissa and Helen and Miriam and David and I don’t want to leave all of you behind because I love you all. But I think I have to. I have to get away from here to help myself get better, even if it does mean leaving behind everyone I love.       I won’t go no contact though, I don’t think. I might have to for a few weeks so I can settle into my new home, if I do decide to leave, but I don’t think I can face being no contact with you guys because I love you all so much and I don’t want Teddy to grow up thinking his godfather has abandoned him when really I adore that child more than anything or anyone in the world. (Yes, even more than I love you, Draco. Don’t feel too hard done by. Teddy is a kid after all. You’re the man I love but he is my godson. He’s special.)       Cissa and I have spoken about this a lot. I’ve chatted to Helen about it as well. Helen thinks getting out of the country will be good for me because she thinks I’ve recovered as much as I can being in the country surrounded by my memories and trauma and demons. She thinks a fresh start somewhere new will be good for me. On the one condition that I continue therapy wherever I move to. She said I can get a muggle therapist to talk through all the childhood trauma and neglect then once that is all processed, I should get a wizarding mind healer to process any residue trauma from the war.      Cissa doesn’t want me to leave, but even she recognises that it’s probably the best thing for me at the moment. I’ve asked her not to tell anyone about this because I haven’t decided yet. If I do leave, I’ll make sure to spend time with people before I leave. A few hours with Miriam and David, a few hours with Andi and Teddy, and I’ll even come up to Hogwarts to see you.       We sat for ages yesterday talking about this because I said how I hate feeling so trapped here and Cissa asked me if I was still thinking about leaving. She’s worried about me and she’s scared I’ll try and do something while I’m away, but I told her what Helen said and that reassured her. She still doesn’t really want me to leave. Which is understandable. Shit’s been bad. Shit is bad still. But it’s so much better than what it used to be. And I think to get to be the best, I have to leave.       Helen told me that people have to make sacrifices in order to help themselves. I told her not to patronise me when I was THE sacrifice. But she said in terms of healing and mental health, I will have to make sacrifices to help myself get better. Leaving everyone behind would be my sacrifice. She said I could take someone with me but I won’t drag any of you guys away from your family and the people you love.       I’ll tell you when I’ve made up my mind. I want to make a decision before the war memorial in a few days. Because the 2nd of May this year will mark one year since the war and one year since I was supposed to die. One year since it all fell apart again.       I’m not going to the memorial by the way. Kingsley wrote to me asking me to attend and give a speech, and McGonagall asked me to attend as well. But I’m not going. I might not be in the country on that day anyway. But I’ll write to McGonagall when I decide what I’m going to do. I’ll write to a lot of people when I decide what to do.      I should go now. Cissa is making brownies and I want to help her. I have a lot more thinking to do and I only have two days to do all that thinking. But it will be okay. I know it will. I will be okay, no matter what I decide to do. I’ll be okay. I promise.      Till the next one.      From Harry

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2nd May 1999To my Draco,      I love you. I love you more than life itself. And I hope you realise that. Because at the end of this letter, you are going to hate me more than you have ever hated me.       I think you realised something was up when I came to visit you and your friends at Hogwarts a couple of days ago. We spent the day together, remember? And I saw Ron, Hermione, Ginny and Luna as well. It was so nice. It was the best. And you gave me a big hug and held my hand when we walked about Hogsmeade and had your arm around my shoulders. But you noticed something was off. I could tell you knew something was wrong, because you would barely leave my side and you were always asking me if I was okay. I tried to throw you off, but you knew. I know you knew. I could tell.       Especially when I went to floo home. You stood with me and held me and asked me over and over if I was okay, if I was really okay, if there was anything you could do for me. But of course, darling Draco, there isn’t anything you can do that would change my mind.       I spent the day with Miriam and David yesterday too. And I saw Andi and Teddy. Half and half. And I gave them their letters too. I’ve got your real letter next to me, ready to post. One for you, and Ron and Hermione and a few other people. This is the last letter I am writing.       Sorry if this is a bit all over the place. I have been crying. A lot of crying. Cissa held me and let me cry before I wrote all the letters.       She and I packed up my house yesterday evening after I got back from Andi and Teddy’s house. We shrunk all the furniture and put it in boxes, then shrunk the boxes to put them in my suitcase. Everything I own is packed up into the suitcase. Apart from this box of letters. My therapy letters. We left the beds so we could sleep last night, but now they’re in my suitcase too. My suitcase. For me to take with me away. Far, far away.       I spoke to Helen for ages about this, and we’ve decided it’s the best thing for me. I’m leaving. I’m going away to a different country to escape all this trauma and memories and depression. Helen said she thinks moving away will help me get past this barrier I have in my mind. She thinks I won’t be able to heal properly surrounded by all of this. I need to go away and heal far away before I can come back and see everyone again and be a real, proper man. A proper person, normal and not held down by my demons and depression and desire to off myself.       You know, I had originally planned to off myself today. A year after I was supposed to die. Poetic, don’t you think? Killing myself on the one year anniversary of the Battle of Hogwarts, the one thing that was supposed to kill me in the first place. A year of borrowed time was just right, I felt. So I was going to die today.       But I changed my mind. Helen, Miriam, David, Andi, Teddy, Cissa and you all helped with that. You helped me decide to move away instead of killing myself. You helped me decide to heal instead of die. So I’m moving away to look after myself and to get past all my demons far away from the place that caused them. I’m going to heal. I’m going to start a new life, under a new name, as a new person, and I’m going to heal myself. I’m going to get better and I’m going to become healthier and clean and just so much better, Draco. I’m going to get better.       I haven’t decided where I will go yet. I’ll go to the Ministry and get an international portkey away from here. I just need to leave. Get far far far away from England and from everything that is hurting me.       I’ll admit though, I don’t want to leave. I don’t want to leave you and Cissa and Andi and little Teddy behind. I want to watch Teddy grow up. I want to be there for him and I want to be a real, proper godfather to him. I want to be the man Remus wanted me to be for his son. But I can’t be that man until I have healed, and I can’t heal while I am trapped here.       I won’t abandon him. I will write to him after a few months when I have settled. And I will come back. When I am better. When I have settled and have healed more. I’ll visit and I’ll write and if something happens to Andi, I will drop everything and come back to him because I want to be there for him.       But while I can’t be there, you’ll be there for him, right? You’ll look after him and tell him how much I love him and how I haven’t forgotten about him. He has photos and memories from Andi and you and Cissa. I haven’t forgotten. I will never forget him. I just need to leave for a bit to look after myself and heal and get over my demons.       I won’t forget you, either, Draco. My Draco. The man I fucking adore. I could never forget you. You mean the absolute world to me. But I need to stop loving you so much. I need to get over my love for you. I need it to calm down. I need everything to calm down before I see you all again. And I hope you understand that. Especially after reading all these letters.      I know I’ve written you a normal letter to post when I leave, explaining why I am leaving, but you will get these ones as well. Cissa and I are at the church again while I am writing this. She’s waiting for me to finish this letter so I can seal it, put it in the box and leave. Then she will take the box back to Malfoy Manor and give it to you when you come back home. So you can understand.       But I understand if you don’t. These letters are a bit strange. Incoherent. Messed up. And I also understand if you hate me for leaving. If you hate me for not doing more for myself while I was here. But I tried, Draco. I tried so, so hard. I tried my best even though my best wasn’t good enough. I knew my best wouldn’t be good enough the first time I tried to kill myself, but I still tried because I knew other people wanted me to keep living and I knew I couldn’t die. Not so young. Not so soon.       So. This is me, I guess. I’m leaving to get better. I’m running away to get past the barrier that my demons have built for me to keep me from getting better. And I really hope you understand why I have to leave to get better, because I am stuck unless I leave. I’ll never properly get better unless I leave to get past this barrier.       I don’t want to leave. I’ve said it before and I will say it again. I don’t want to leave you and Teddy behind. I love you both so much. However, I need to leave. I have to. If I don’t leave, I will never get better. And I need to get better. I have to. I can’t keep living like this. Because if I keep living like this, then I will die. And I don’t want to die, Draco. I really don’t want to die. Not anymore.       But y’know, Miriam told me that after you die, your brain lives on for another seven minutes to replay your best memories. Draco, I hope that when I die, whether that be in the next week, month, year, decade or century, you will be my seven minutes. Because I love you. I love you so, so much. You got all my love, Draco. All of it. And I promise, I promise to you that I will try to keep living for as long as possible. I will try and make it to 2000, then 2001 and 2002 and 2003 and so on. One day at a time.       I think I might go to Australia first. Then New Zealand. Then possibly Canada then the USA. I want to travel around then settle somewhere and heal myself. All of this is about healing. And I will go no contact to start off with. That’s a promise. That’s certain. You won’t hear from me for at least a year, I think. But after that, I will try and write and get back in contact with you all because the last thing I want to do is abandon you all. Especially Teddy. That kid is my world and I can’t leave him. So I’ll try and come back for him and for you. For all of you.       Only once I’ve healed though. I need to start healing properly before I can be back here with any memories or anything. I need to be a better person and get better before I even think of coming back.       So yeah. That’s me done, for now. It’s been a year, and I have tried so, so hard, but it can’t be enough while I am here. It will never be enough while I am here. I hope you can forgive me eventually. For running away, I mean. But I also hope you understand. I hope you realise why I need to do this, after reading all these letters.      I love you, Draco. I love you so much and I am going to miss you more than ever, but I have to do this. I have to get better.       Wishing you all the best for the rest of your life and your future. I hope you live to the fullest. Don’t hold back over me, okay? Go and live as much as possible and I will see you soon.       Give Teddy a hug from me, will you? Don’t let him forget me. Tell him I’ll come back when I am better. Tell him I love him. Tell him he is the most important person in the whole world to me. And look after Andi and Cissa. Keep them safe. Keep yourself safe.       See you around, Draco.      Love from Harry Potter       X

----- CHAPTER BREAK -----

31st July 1999My Dearest, Harry,      Happy birthday. You’re 19 today, aren’t you? Same age as me, now. We had a little party for you earlier. There was me, my mother, Andromeda, Teddy, Luna, Pansy, Blaise, Ron and Hermione. We were at Andromeda’s house and Luna had baked you a cake. It was a chocolate cake and it said ‘Happy Birthday Harry’ in chocolate letters on the top. It also said ‘We miss you’ in strawberry sauce. Because we do. We miss you more than you can imagine, Harry.       We sang Happy Birthday for you, and Teddy blew out the candles on your behalf, and we sat around drinking while we shared our favourite memories of you. Andromeda and Mother talked a lot about you, saying they both felt a sense of responsibility over you and wanted to keep you safe. Mother didn’t mention any of your moments. Your bad moments, when you were sitting on your bathroom floor trying to die. She kept all of those to herself. She told me afterwards that she didn’t want to scare the others or worry them or upset them.       Andromeda spoke a lot about your relationship with Teddy. She said she was over the moon when you agreed to be a part of Teddy’s life as his godfather, even though you were going through an exceedingly difficult part of your life. Apparently Teddy was a completely different child when you were in the house. He was a lot happier and would smile and talk a lot more than he usually did. Teddy adored you, Harry. He loves you so, so much. You know, throughout the party we had, we had photos of you around the place, so it would seem like you were there, and Teddy would stare at the photos all the time. I asked him if he was okay and he just pointed at your photo and said ‘Harry.’ He misses you. He misses you a lot. Andromeda said he hasn’t been the same since you disappeared.       None of us have been the same since you left. When I got your letter, your last one, I came straight home to the Manor because I needed explanations from Mother. I needed to know why the fuck you had just left. She sat me down and she explained your situation. Then she gave me a box that said ‘Letters for Draco.’ She said they were your therapy letters that your mind healer had asked you to write to help you cope. She said you wanted me to have them to fully explain everything.       I cried a lot that day. I didn’t read your letters straight away, but I cried a lot. Something I am not afraid to admit, because you were my favourite person. You are my favourite person. And you just left. I didn’t get to give you a final hug, I didn’t get to spend time with just you, sitting together and talking, I didn’t get to tell you how much I love you.       Yes, Harry, I love you. I love you more than I can comprehend. My heart aches for you. Every day you spend away from me is another day where my body yearns for you to be pressed against me, in my arms. I’m so stupid to have believed that you didn’t love me the same way I love you. After reading your letters I now see just how blind I was to your affections, and Harry, my love, I am so unbelievably sorry for what I put you through. I did not realise that you felt so strongly about me. Looking back on it now, I see how stupid I was to not believe you were in love with me. The way you behaved around me was exactly the way I would assume someone who was in love would behave. I was a fool to think you were just being overly affectionate because of your trauma.       A major part of me also believed that you would never love me the way I love you because of our history. Constantly fighting, constantly at each other’s throats. Besides, I am a Death Eater. Ex Death Eater or whatever. Why would the Saviour of the Wizarding World fall in love with the man who fell to the dark side and committed war crimes? I believed I was so far out of your range that you couldn’t possibly fall in love with me. I wish I had been brave enough to explain everything to you. To your face. But I guess explaining everything in this letter will have to do. Because you have been gone for nearly three months and none of us have heard from you and we have no idea where to find you. But I don’t think you really want to be found, do you?      You said in one of your letters that you would go no contact for a few months while you try and settle down somewhere, then you would get back in touch because you didn’t want to abandon Teddy. So I’m praying that we will hear from you soon. A letter from wherever you have settled in the world. Because we miss you, Harry. I miss you. I miss you like I miss a part of my soul. (Yes, I stole that from you. It’s rather poetic, isn’t it?)       I should probably explain Astoria to you now, shouldn’t I? I have just confessed to being in love with you, yet before you left you had picked up on my affections for Astoria. I do love Astoria. She is the one woman I have ever felt romantic affections for. We spent a lot of time together after the war, then grew closer in our final year at Hogwarts, and because I thought I would never stand a chance with you, I knew Astoria was my only chance at a loving relationship and a family in the future. Besides, she is a wonderful woman and I genuinely do feel a lot of love for her. Not as much as I love you, but that’s okay, because she knows this.       When you left, I already mentioned I spent a lot of time crying. I spent a few days with Mother before she sent me back to Hogwarts to complete my NEWTs, and Astoria found me on the bridge crying again. She asked me what was wrong and I explained how you had disappeared and how it felt like my soul had been ripped in two because I loved you and I couldn’t stand the thought of having to live on without the knowledge that you were safe and alive. She took me in her arms and let me cry as much as I needed and reassured me and comforted me. She was there for me.       Astoria was my anchor throughout my exams, comforting me and making sure I was okay. She was always there for me, Harry. She never took advantage, but she was always there for me. Then when she told me she loved me, it wasn’t really a surprise. I knew she loved me, and I knew I also held affections for her.       I bought a ring for her a week ago. I’m planning to propose to her before I start at medical school. We will have a summer wedding next year because she has always said she wanted to get married in the summer sun. It will be wonderful.      I really hope that you will have written to us before then. I want you to be at my wedding, Harry. I want you to sit in the front row, next to Mother and Andromeda. I want to be able to look over at you when I feel nervous and to see your smile and have all my nerves vanish just because Harry Potter is looking at me and he is happy for me.       Admittedly, I don’t want you in the front row at my wedding. I want you to stand opposite me, in a matching suit with a flower in your breast pocket and the Malfoy family ring on your finger. I want you to be the groom at my wedding, not a guest. I want to be married to you.       But I can’t have that, because you’ve left and because I am now expected to marry Astoria. I don’t mind marrying her. In fact, I am so excited to marry her, because I love her, but she’s not you. No-one will ever be able to match you, Harry. I love you more than life itself. I love you to the moon and back and beyond. I love you unquestionably, without a doubt and without conditions. If I believed in soulmates, I would proclaim from the rooftops that you were my soulmate and that I loved you more than anything or anyone in the world.      Well anyway. I love you but I can no longer have you. I love Astoria and I am going to marry her. I am happy, but I miss you. I miss you so much, my love. My darling. My dearest. My favourite person. Everyday I wake up, hoping and praying that there will be a letter from you waiting on the table for me, telling me that you have settled and are working on yourself and are going to come back soon to see Teddy and me and all of us. I’m waiting for you, love. I will always wait for you. I will wait for you for as long as you need me too, and I will never forget you.      Teddy will never forget you, either. Andromeda, Mother and I made that deal together. We have loads of photos of you, and we are going to put them in a photo album for Teddy. We will tell him loads of stories about you and find all the good articles about you in the papers. We won’t let him forget you and we will make sure he knows just how much you love him and just how much you want to come back for him. We will tell him all about you so he knows you and so he feels loved by you. Because Teddy misses you and he loves you and he will want to know you. We won’t let him forget you, Harry. I promise you that Teddy will grow up knowing how much you love him. Hopefully you will be back before long, but just in case you aren’t, we will tell him so much about you.      Speaking of knowing lots about you, your letters really have opened my eyes to how you lived your life over the past year. Putting aside all of your love for me, I did not realise just how badly you were suffering. Of course, I knew things were bad from what I saw and from your behaviour when I was around you, but I never knew the full extent of your pain and suffering. I didn’t realise how you were hurting yourself, how you were starving yourself, how you were leading Death right to your front door.       Darling, I wish you had spoken to me. I wish you had let me in further and let me hold you and help you. I know you felt safe and you felt better when you were in my arms, but I wish you had told me more and let me help you more. I might not have been able to do much more, but I loved you, Harry. I loved you so much and it pained me to see you suffer and I just wanted to help you. I always just wanted to help you.      You know, when you left and I went back to the Manor, the first day was the worst, because I lay on the floor in the living room in Mother’s arms, crying harder than I had ever cried before, wondering why on earth I hadn’t been enough, wondering why Mother and Andromeda and Teddy and I weren’t enough for you. Mother explained it the same way you had: you were held back by your trauma and your past being here, so you needed to leave. I had been enough for you, she reassured me. We had been enough for you, but you needed to leave to break the barriers in your head and so you can heal. Of course, I understood that, but I was so upset. I felt like I had been ripped in half, as if half of my soul had been torn from me as my favourite person vanished from my life.       I really hope you do come back soon. Or if you don’t come back, I hope you write to us and visit us and come back into our lives. Because we miss you. We miss you so much, Harry. I miss you. Teddy misses you.       The world is too quiet without you. I know that sounds strange to say, because you weren’t very talkative in your last year in England, but it is quiet. Too quiet. Your absence is hugely noticeable, and the silence is so loud. It’s deafening. I find myself filling the silence with music and with books and meaningless conversations because I can’t cope. I can’t cope with your absence.       I’ve spoken a lot to my mind healer about this. About you. Mother forced me into a mind healer’s office after you left because she could see where I was heading, and she said she wasn’t about to watch her son go down the path you had. She can prevent it before it gets too bad for me. She couldn’t do that for you, so she said she’s going to fight like hell to make sure I heal. So I got a mind healer.       Having a mind healer has helped a lot. I can see why you spoke a lot about Helen in your letters. My mind healer is a lady called Elizabeth, but she’s told me to call her Lizzie. She’s so friendly and she helps me more than I realised she could. She’s helped me process my own trauma and issues. I never realised just how many things there were that upset me or that caused me trauma, but Lizzie has picked through it all and is helping me process it all. She really is magical. I can see why you loved Helen. And I can see why you hated her too, because she pokes around and reveals things and points out the truth that we don’t want to hear. I understand all of that now, properly. She helps in the most annoying way possible, but she helps and she helps me heal.       I hope you are healing. Wherever you are in the world, I hope it has helped you and I hope you really are healing. Properly healing, I mean. Away from all your trauma, growing into the man you are supposed to be. A strong, happy, healthy man, full of love and joy, living life to the fullest. I hope you are healing. And I hope you are healing enough to have you visiting us soon. Visiting, or coming back, or writing to us. I hope you are healing enough to return to us. Because we miss you. I miss you.       I don’t think you understand just how much I miss you, love. I’ve already said I miss you like I miss part of my soul, but it’s more than that. So much more. You’re my Harry and you’re gone and I’m having to learn to live without you and I wish I didn’t have to do this. I know that you being gone is for your own good to help you get better, but I wish that being here, being with me and your family was enough. I wish we were enough.       I want to see you again. I want to see you and hold you and kiss you. I want to tell you how much I love you and hold you close to my chest, keeping you safe, so, so safe, and making sure you know just how much you are loved and valued and cherished. You are loved and cherished and valued, Harry. More than you can imagine. There are so many people here who love you and who just want you to be safe. Mother, Andromeda, Teddy, Luna, Ron, Hermione, me and so many more people, like your old neighbours. Miriam and David.       Mother and I actually went to visit Miriam and David a few days ago. They recognised us and welcomed us into their home with open arms and were so, so happy to talk to us. They were distraught when you handed them their letter and explained you were leaving. They were so worried about you and wanted so badly to reach out to you and find you but they had no idea where to begin. Mother and I explained everything to them, adding in bits that you had left out in your letter simply because they were more worried than you can imagine. Of course, we left out all the magic, but we explained about your no contact plan.       Miriam asked us if we would tell them the moment you got back in contact with us and we promised that we would notify them as soon as we heard from you. They really do care about you, Harry. They love you like they love their own grandchildren, David said. He said he considered you to be his grandson, and Miriam echoed the statement. So I told them that you considered them to be your grandparents, but were too scared to tell them that because they had their own family.       Harry, darling, they were so happy to learn that you thought of them as your grandparents. They were over the moon to discover how highly you thought of them. They wished you were around so they could hug you and reassure you that you are part of their family and they consider you equal to their own grandchildren. We reassured them that they were two of the most important people in your life and that they helped you more than they realised through all that they did for you.       We wanted to stay for longer, but we had to get back, and we also wanted to go and visit your parents’ grave before we went back home. I told your parents what had happened and told them that we had tried our best to look out for you but you needed to leave to completely get better. Mother told them how she had tried to always be there for you but it had been so hard and that moving away was the best thing for you.       We left the graveyard and walked past your old house on our way back to the apparition point. There are new people living in your house. A family of three. A mother, father and a child, who can’t be any older than two years. They looked so happy, playing in the front garden together. They waved at us as we walked past and shouted hello. I never realised how friendly some muggles can be. We didn’t stay and chat, but we waved back.       Harry, my love, my darling, please come back to us soon. Please come back to us safely and healed and happy. Please reach out to us and visit us and remember us. Don’t forget about us here. If you find happiness and love and a family out in the world, please don’t abandon us. Come back to us. Visit us. Introduce us to your new world. Your new friends and family. But please, for Teddy’s sake if for no-one else, don’t forget about us. Don’t completely leave us behind and cut us off. Come back to us. We love you and we miss you.      I have tried to understand you, through reading your letters. I have tried to see into your mind and unpick your letters and see you laid out raw and real in front  of me, and while I cannot say I understand all of what has happened to you, nor can I understand why you did some of the things you did, I am not angry at you. I am not upset, or mad. I am sad and I miss you, but I am not angry. I have tried to understand it all, and I have done my best and I realise why you have gone and I also realise you probably won’t be back for a while. I don’t think you’re going to contact us for a long while. Possibly over a year. More than two years, maybe.       You have gone to hell and back far too many times over the course of your life and everything around you here, in England, reminds you of everything you have been through. So stay away, my darling Harry, and heal. Stay away for as long as you need and help your mind and your soul heal until you think you will be able to face your past with a brave face and a strong mind. Heal, my love. Heal and grow into the man you are supposed to be.       We’ll be waiting for you, over here, going about our own lives, keeping you in our memories. We’ll wait for the day when you return to us, happy and healed. Everyday, I will think of you, love you, and miss you. I will wait for you. We all will. Because we love you and we miss you. I already look forward to the day when I will hear your voice again and see your smile and feel your arms around me. I cannot wait for you to come back to us, Harry. But look after yourself. Put yourself first. Heal, my love. Take as long as you need.      See you around, Harry.      Love from Draco Malfoy      X