Chapter 16

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[Harry]

With a thud, he landed.

On something hard.

A park bench?

He opened his eyes that were sealed shut.

Thank Merlin no muggles were around.

But not just any bench. A bench beside a swing set. A swing set beside a neatly mown lawn...

Why was he here, of all places? He didn't have time to think about a particular location when he disapparated, but he thought he would be home.

He only had a second to be confused.

Flashbacks.

Flashbacks of the swarming reporters cornering him, flashbacks of Ginny leaving, flashbacks of Teddy being pushed away, flashbacks of Ginny confronting his sexuality, flashbacks of Draco and the night's stay, flashbacks of the pointing and whispering, flashbacks of so, so, many deaths...

Alone.

Alone...

He was so alone.

His breath hitched.

He was hyperventilating.

Faint and Nausea was washing through him like tides of tsunamis, Surges of anxiety pulsed through him for reasons he didn't know which panicked him even more, then someone was screaming his name, the flashbacks came faster and fiercer, the voices became twisted and distorted, sucking into his brain...

His vision started to blur and he felt a firm grip on his shoulder.

"Harry! Harry, look at me, look-"

The last thing he saw was a shock of platinum blonde before the world went black.


[Draco]

He was staring out his bedroom window, a habit he picked up roughly a week ago.

He knew he wouldn't see anything- well, anyone, for that matter, but he always found himself gazing out the window, searching.

Draco knew it was hopeless and stupid. He was hopeless and stupid. Malfoys don't do this, he growled to himself every day.

Nevertheless, he hoped.

He decided it would be best to cut it out for a while, snapping back into the present and seeing it was already around mealtime.

Reaching the kitchen, he realized he didn't feel hungry. Might as well just leave the frozen muggle food for tomorrow.

He grew fond of the frozen food section in the muggle shops since he started living alone after the war. He didn't care for house-elves so he did everything himself. The frozen food bade well for him. It could be edible in an instant with a wave of his wand and whenever he felt out of appetite, it stayed in the freezer.

Instead, he poured himself a cup of tea and went back upstairs.

Again, he sat on the side of his bed and gazed out the window.

Wait. No. It can't be...

He blinked and rubbed his eyes.

A wave of excitement rushed through him. What is he doing here this time?

Harry was sitting on the park bench this time, with his shoulders hunched over. Might be about something he read in the Daily Prophet.

He decided to do better this time, rather than making a fool of himself as he did last.

Draco gave his hair a fresh dose of gel, whiffed on some cologne, and checked his outfit in the full-length mirror for the hundredth time.

He glanced out the window and he was still there.

Not bothering to hide the grin on his face, he walked briskly downstairs to face the crisp autumn air.

He locked the door behind him, eyeing the mown lawn, and settled his eyes on the ruffled-up jet-black hair. He suppressed a blush and breezed over towards his direction, thinking about a snarky yet humorous comment to open up with.

However, he could detect that something was off as he got closer.

Panting?

He sped up.

He could see Harry's chest heaving, his skin ghostly pale. Draco only knew too well what that was.

Panic attack.

"Harry!" Draco couldn't hold his scream back.

Harry didn't respond, nor did he turn to look at him.

Alarmed, he sprinted to Harry's side, only to see him at the worst of a panic attack, sweat and tears mixed up and trickling down his face which was white as sheet.

He knew what to do. Draco gripped his shoulder firmly.

"Harry! Harry, look at me, look-"

But he was too late.

The boy who lived passed out in his arms. 

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