les oiseaux volent à crèpuscle- the birds fly at dusk

TW: depression

One for sorrow

It starts with a look in Harry Potter's direction, as all bad things do.

The worst part is, Potter isn't even looking back. He's not looking at anything, really. He's staring at the floor while his friends talk around him.

Draco can relate to the feeling. He's felt empty since sixth year, and he too often finds himself getting lost in his own thoughts while his friends speak. He can feel himself detaching from the world.

Potter's expression isn't as blank and empty as Draco is sure his own usually is. It's more pained, haunted. Nonetheless, Draco can see the other boy mentally drifting away from the world around him.

Pansy says something to Draco and he glances over, answering halfheartedly. She frowns, but doesn't say anything. She has her own mental hell to deal with, she can't carry the weight of his.

Draco tugs her along, walking past Potter and his friends. Draco gently touches Potter's shoulder as he passes, and Potter jumps, meeting Draco's glance with a startled stare. Draco gives him a small smile and continues walking.

Potter blinks a few times and turns away, answering something Weasley says.

Draco catches his reflection in a window and stops Pansy so he can fix his hair.

Two for mirth

Zacharias Smith's laughter isn't the worst thing he's heard. It isn't even the worst laughter he's heard. Might not even crack top three.

Nevertheless, Draco continuously finds himself waking up in a cold sweat with the sound of Smith's laughter echoing in his drifting nightmares.

Smith has decided to make Draco a target of his post-war rage ever since they all got back, and Draco, wandless and unable to fight due to his probation, just has to take it.

Draco is in the bathroom when Smith decides to try to kill him.

It's ironic, really.

The irony only gets worse from there.

It starts with Draco looking at himself in the mirror and Glamouring away his dark circles, when the bathroom door swings open and Smith steps in.

"Malfoy," he says coldly.

"Smith," Draco replies flatly.

"You don't deserve to be here. You-"

"Do you run off a script?" Draco asks tiredly. He hasn't slept enough for this. "Because every time you see me you run the same lines. Write some new ones."

Smith scowls. "Think you're so funny, do you?" He steps forward and Draco dodges the first swing before the second hits him in the mouth. "Draco 'my father will hear about this' Malfoy thinks he's a fucking comedian!" At the last word, Smith swings again, knocking Draco right in the jaw and sending him sprawling to the floor. 

His delighted laughter rings throughout the cold walls of the bathroom.

"Nobody-" punch "-wants-" punch "-you-" punch "-here-" punch "-you-" oh a kick, he's switching it up! "-filthy-" nope, he's back to punching "-fucking-" punch "-faggot-!" With that, he kicks Draco hard in the head. "Get up. Get up!"

Draco groans, rolling to the side and spitting the blood out of his mouth. His ears are ringing, every part of his face is bleeding, his stomach is sore from the kick Smith had delivered to it, and his mind is spinning.

"Get up!"

"Smith? What the fu- Malfoy?"

Draco groans again as he hears Potter rush forward and drop down next to him.

"Are you alright?"

"Who cares?" Smith shouts. "He's a disgusting Death Eater and he should have never come back to school! He had this coming to him!"

"I'm okay," Draco responds, a point immediately contradicted by him passing out.

Three for a funeral

Four people come to Narcissa Malfoy's funeral.

Draco Malfoy, Blaise Zabini, Pansy Parkinson, and Harry Potter.

This is, surprisingly, not Draco's breaking point. Watching his mother's body being lowered into the ground should fill him with grief, but he's too numb to feel it anymore.

Pansy cries more than he does.

He's in the bathroom, washing his face when he looks up and sees Potter standing behind him in the mirror.

"We have to stop meeting like this," he jokes. Potter raises an eyebrow.

"Well, it's actually a change of pace. You're not bleeding this time."

"Let's keep it that way," Draco mutters, turning around. "I had headaches for two weeks after Smith, and they weren't fun."

"I'm sorry I didn't find you earlier-"

"That's a stupid thing to be sorry for." 

Potter blinks, surprised. "Pardon?"

"Don't apologize for things you can't control, Potter, it gives people power over you. Makes you easy to manipulate." 

Potter stares. "It's sad that you know that."

"And it's sad that my parents are now the same level of physical being as yours, but fate is cruel and so am I."

Potter winces. "Ouch."

"Did you need something, Potter?" Draco leans back against the sink and raises an eyebrow.

"Um- no, no, I guess not." 

Potter leaves, and Draco tips his head back, letting it hit the mirror behind him.

Four for a birth

"Say that again?" Draco asks, head spinning.

Potter shrugs, leaning against Draco's doorframe. "Will you go on a date with me?"

Draco pinches the bridge of his nose. "Fuck, alright, that's what I thought you said. Come in, I guess."

Potter gives him a slightly nervous smile and steps into Draco's apartment. "Is that a yes or a no?"

"It's more of a 'what the hell are you thinking?'"

"I'm thinking that with our history, we could either be the worst or the best couple in the world, and I want to find out which."

"You're trying to tell me you don't already know the answer?"

"You're trying to tell me you do?"

Draco sighs irritably and hops up on the counter of his kitchen island. "You're pure and good and heroic, and not to mention I thought you were straight, and I'm a depressed, angry, self-serving jackass. We would kill each other."

"If you were wrong about me being straight, you could be wrong about other things too."

"I could be. I doubt it."

"Why not do it anyway? What have you got to lose?"

Draco freezes. Potter's got him there. He has absolutely nothing to lose anymore.

"Fine," he mutters. 

Potter lights up, and Draco can't help his slight smile. He catches sight of the two of them in his mirror across the room, and can't help but think that they look good together.

It feels like the birth of something amazing.

Five for heaven

Dating Harry Potter is the best thing Draco's ever experienced.

He's sweet and generous and really good in bed, but he also doesn't take Draco's shit and he still tells him to shut up and he still pushes him like he did in Hogwarts, only now it's usually followed by heated kissing.

And sure, the press are annoying, but Draco's so infatuated with Harry that he doesn't bother to read the shit the papers say about them. 

And sure, his mental health isn't getting any better, but having sex with Harry is a hell of a distraction from his mind.

And sure, Weasley and Granger still give him suspicious looks, and sure, Granger once slipped him Veritaserum and tried to reveal his true intentions with Harry, but Harry sent them out before Draco said anything, not that a word of it would have been bad.

And sure, Draco spends 95% of his life in Harry's apartment and the only other 5% is going out on dates with Harry, but he has nothing else to go to; Harry is his everything.

And sure, Draco feels empty and useless when Harry leaves to go to Ministry functions or out with his friends, but he ignores these feelings in favor of the joy he gets when Harry comes back.

And sure, Pansy and Blaise have tried to come by and tell Draco that he needs a life outside of Harry, but he sends them away and goes back to the bedroom where Harry is waiting for him.

And sure, Harry doesn't know how fractured Draco's mind is after the war, but what he doesn't know can't hurt him, especially when he seems so happy to see Draco all the time.

Harry Potter is the best thing that's ever happened to him, and when Draco looks in their bedroom mirror and sees the man behind him smiling and wrapping his arms around Draco's waist, he thinks he can take on the world.

He's in heaven.

Six for hell

Harry Potter dying is the worst thing Draco's ever experienced.

It was a suspect in an Auror murder investigation, an attempt to avoid being caught. Ron and Blaise hadn't been able to stop the green light from hitting Harry. The suspect got away.

When a shaking Blaise shows up at Draco's door and tells him, Draco collapses.

For a week, he just sits in a chair and stares blankly at the wall, waiting for Harry to walk in the door with a bright smile and warm arms ready to sweep Draco into a hug.

It doesn't happen, and on the seventh day, Draco realizes it never will.

He screams, loud enough to alarm his neighbors, surely, but he doesn't care anymore.

His reason for existing is gone, and Draco feels lost. His mind is crumbling, shattering, flying away. He feels destroyed. 

Desperately clinging to any sort of hope, he bursts through every room in the apartment, flinging open doors and rushing around.

He finds himself in their bedroom, alone.

He glances at the mirror and sees the glint of something on Harry's nightstand. Confused, he turns around and approaches the shiny object.

It's in Harry's nightstand drawer, but the drawer is slightly open, which is how Draco can see it. Harry must have not shut it right last week before he left.  A silver ring sits atop a small piece of paper, both of which Draco lifts with shaking hands.

He unfolds the paper and reads the words scribbled in Harry's shitty handwriting.

Hey Draco,
If you're seeing this, it's because you went through my drawers again, you asshole. (stop doing that, or you can find yourself a new fiancé smh)
That's right, FIANCÉ, I was gonna propose, and look at you, you managed to spoil it, good going lol. I'll still take you to dinner and propose really dramatically so we get free dessert.
(not that we don't have the money for dessert, but free food is always better)
But seriously, I love you so much and I can't imagine a moment of my life without you by my side. If you're reading this (again, because you went through my things smh), you better fucking tell me because I'm not proposing without the shock factor, it's not as fun. Not that I know that from experience.
This letter is getting necessarily long for something you might not even read (unlikely) so I guess this is the end of it.
Will you marry me?
Love, 
Harry

The ring falls to the floor and so does Draco.

He's in hell.

Seven for the Devil, his own self.

Bang. Bang. Bang.

The door opens to reveal a woman, frowning a bit. "Sorry, can I help you?"

"Where is he?"

"Where is who?" She tugs her robe tighter. "I think you have the wrong house, good night."

"Where is Damon Bellerose?"

"What do you want with Damon?" she asks. She looks alarmed.

"Your brother killed my fiancé, and I'm going to return the favor."

The girl- who after an extended period of research Draco determined to be Damon's twin Lucinda- takes a step back, grip on the doorknob tightening. "You have the wrong house. Good night."

She slams the door closed.

A second later, Draco kicks it back open.

"You can't be in here!" she screams, stumbling back. "He's not here, you can't be here!"

"You know where he is," Draco growls. He points his wand at her. "And you're going to tell me, or I'm going to fucking kill you."

She tips her head up defiantly, tears swimming in her eyes. "My brother didn't kill anyone."

"We have multiple pieces of evidence, including fingerprints, wand-tracing, and Pensieve memory visions from Aurors that say otherwise. Your brother is a murderer, Ms. Bellerose."

"He's not!" she screams. "He can't be!"

"He is!" Draco shouts back. "He is, and he murdered Harry Potter in cold fucking blood! Where is he?"

"You can kill me, I'm not telling you where he is!" Lucinda's eyes are filled with fear and anger and Draco kills her without a second thought.

He scans the room for any trace of anything before he catches sight of a piece of paper on the dining table.

Lucy,
I'll be in America, San Francisco, if you need me. I'm visiting some friends up there, staying at the Huntington hotel if you need anything at all. I'll be back in a few weeks. Love you.
-D

Draco Apparates to the Huntington hotel in San Francisco.

He barely remembers to tuck his wand away before he steps into the foyer and walks up to the desk.

"Hi," he says sweetly, barely keeping his rage in check. "I'm here to visit a friend? Damon Bellerose? Can you tell me which room he's in?"

"Sure, sweetheart," she says lightly. "Just let me call up there real quick and check if he's expecting any visitors, standard protocol."

"Imperio."

The lady's eyes glaze over, the phone in her hand falling. 

"Tell me the room Damon Bellerose is staying in."

She checks the records. "23b. Third floor."

Draco doesn't bother walking. Muggle buildings don't restrict Apparation.

He does take the time to kick in the door, enjoying the look of fearful shock on Damon's face that matches his twin's quite well.

"Expelliarmus." Damon's wand flies across the room. Draco doesn't bother to catch it.

"Who are you?" Damon whispers.

"I'm Harry Potter's fiancé."

The blood drains out of Damon's face. "I had to, you don't understand, I-"

"Don't bother. Pleading didn't get your sister anywhere either."

Damon instantly freezes. "If you did anything to Lucinda-"

"Did, done, dead. Be grateful, she was real adamant about remaining loyal to you. I had to search around to figure out where you were."

"The letter," Damon chokes out through tears. "You killed her?"

"She wouldn't tell me where you are."

"You didn't have to kill her!" Damon screams brokenly.

"I don't have to kill you either, but I'm going to anyway."

The fear and shock barely reach Damon's face before he's dead.

Draco sets down his wand quietly and stares at his fiancé's murderer.

He was supposed to feel better after this.

Why doesn't he feel better?

He registers the shaking of his hands, the sound of shouting from the floors below, from people who no doubt heard the commotion.

Draco backs up, feeling something jab into his back. He feels around and turns the doorknob, finding himself in a bathroom.

Only this time, Harry's not here to save him.

His shaking hands rest on the edges of the sink and he stares into the mirror.

Hollow cheeks, dull grey eyes, messy blonde hair.

Draco tilts his head.

He doesn't recognize the person in the mirror.