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Angel Of Mercy	By : AttentionDeficit Category: Harry Potter > Slash - Male/Male > Harry/Draco Views: 10159 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter, nor any of the characters from the books or movies. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.

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Desperate and Hardened
To be a Malfoy, you think would include being precise, on time, exact, the closest thing to perfect as humanly possible. But no, not this Malfoy. This Malfoy tried to do a simple act and failed.
I mean it really couldn’t have been that hard. The mental strain wasn’t as much as everyone said it would be. I said goodbye to my uncaring parents in a letter that I left them on my bed next to my box of photographs. The photographs of my life, okay so there are twenty pictures, and most of them are only of the life I wanted. A few pictures of a perfect family, a few pictures of some people laughing, and then one picture of the golden trio. I know it sounds strange, Draco Malfoy ten years past the war and I still want close friends, and to make the golden trio the silver four. Doesn’t that just have the prettiest ring to it? Me in a group. A group that truly cares and not just protects because your father said so. I relish in the dream of it. And yes that is all it is, a dream. Nothing more, nothing less.
So now, because I can’t be a perfect Malfoy, I am stuck in this God-awful place. Aspen Springs; a Psychiatry Hospital, in the Redwood room. Since giving it a pretty name makes it so much better.
So I slit my wrists. Big deal! I mean no one really cares. My parents haven’t even tried to see me. They are probably too busy telling the media that someone tried to murder me and I only went to a Psychiatry hospital because of what I saw. Sounds just like them. Uncaring bastards. And my friends. What friends?! I am twenty-seven years old and the best kind of “friend” I can get is someone who will suck me off whenever I want. Of course they want something in return, money normally. Oh the joys of being a young, hot, rich bachelor. I mean I have girls flinging themselves at me. Doesn’t anyone realize I don’t want girls? I want boys. I am homosexual, gay, a fairy, a faggot, a man-loving, dick-eating guy. About one girl knows that. She was my best friend in Hogwarts. And she died.
So she didn’t die literally but she is dead to me. She left me at the manor that night.
NO. I am not going back there. That night can stay hidden. I don’t care. No fucking way. It’s buried. It’s dead. It was almost eleven years ago. It’s time I moved on.
“How do you plan not to share it when you are in a psychiatric hospital because of it?” The part against me thinks.
You know what self, I don’t like you. I know that’s obvious because I wouldn’t be in here otherwise but I don’t. I really don’t. You’re just so annoying. You always have to point out what is wrong. You fucking perfectionist. If I wasn’t stuck to you, I would leave you.
“You tried. You failed. Remember? No? Look down at your arm.”
And stupidly following myself I do. And I find a long bandage covering my entire right wrist. My left wrist is bandaged too but not as much as my right. For you see as I was cutting my left one, I slipped and fell. Of course the sound of the crash called attention to me, and someone came in the door and pressed a cloth to my wrist. I have no idea who it was. Someone tall, that’s all I know. I passed out before I could see more. I woke up at St. Mungo's though, to see a doctor standing above me healing my arm. And then again to be told I was going to Aspen Springs. I didn’t see anyone else until I walked into this room and by then I was too high on magical mood enhancers, also known as medication, to remember what happened.
My new best friend is magical mood enhancers. With a bit of magic every person in every room gets their medication on time and delivered effectively. The people can also not refuse not to take it since it is magic but I personally do not like to have someone else control the mood I am in. The spell is known supposedly only by the psychiatrists or mind healers but I still don’t trust it. If they can control my mood and my free will with a bit of magic, what else about me can they control?
Besides the meds being delivered by magic, they are the best thing in my life. They are my best friend. So maybe it’s the only best friend I have ever had but you know what I tried to have a best friend seventeen ago. It clearly failed if I have only have Prozac now. Oh well life sucks, and then you die, except for me. I don’t die. Other people would be happy to not be able to die. But fuck I want to die. I want to. I want to. FUCKING KILL ME.
Okay. Brains back under control again. We are great. Yes ‘we’ because there are two of me, the side that says die and the side that says Medication?
Welcome to my pathetic existence. It sucks to in my thoughts doesn’t it? How do you think I feel?! Drug addict on one side and suicidal maniac on the other, isn’t life grand?
No. It’s not. It sucks and then you die. Remember? I swear I just thought this.
Uh-oh. There’s a man at my door. Oh crap now he’s coming in my door.
“Hello Draco, how are you today?”
Hmm. I don’t know. I tried to kill myself and failed. How do you think I am?!
But I don’t say that. I just shrug.
“Well I am Derek and you’re due for an appointment with Healer Granger-Weasley.”
My ears perk up but my face stays neutral. What the hell do they mean Granger works here? I’m not speaking to her. I refuse, I refuse, I REFUSE. Too fucking bad.
Derek leaves after making sure I am comfortable and not trying to kill myself. Though they have wards to tell when people are harming themselves. But it’s alright that I am being watched because I have medication. What good be sweeter?
I don’t know. Maybe love? You know how that feels, right? Someone’s arms around you and you feel the weight of the world fall off your shoulders. You know how that feels, right? No, you don’t. You have no fucking clue how it feels.
If I could cry right now, I would. But I can’t so fuck it. It isn’t my fault my parents never hugged me like that, and anyone I dated or fucked was only there for the money or the sex.
Well now I’m feeling pathetic and the Prozac isn’t working fast enough. Sharp objects? Anyone? Sharp objects? No? I thought not. It doesn’t matter anyway. They are watching me right now. They’d have to run quickly if I took my head out on the white wall or the white bed post or the white chair. God with all this white you think they would like some red. It is a beautiful colour.
I know what I just said. But haven’t you already realized I wanted to be a Gryffindor? Come on brain keep up with me or not. Truly it makes no difference. We will both be dead soon enough. I’m going to sleep now, Mr. Brain. So fuck off, I really can’t take your ramblings about what I want. Goodnight.
“Draco? Draco, wake up you're going to see Healer Granger now.”
What a lovely thing to wake up to, bad news. So I nod and get up. Time to face reality. What fun! Kill me.
Derek leads me down a very long corridor where I can hear weirdoes from some rooms cry out and others are so silent it’s scary.
Derek stops and points to a door with a plaque on it that says “Healer Granger” and I can imagine the amount of pride she feels when she sees that. Personally, it makes me sick. Well, the only reason I am sick is because I’m going to have to spill out my guts out to someone I have pretended to hate for most of my life.
So I open the door to find a tall, slim Granger. She looks professional, prepared and kind of hot for a chick. At least a lot better then she used too.
“Hello Draco, please take a seat.”
I sit in the chair with the grace of a Malfoy. Though after this I believe I won’t be one anymore.
“It has been awhile, Draco. I haven’t seen you in about ten years. How have you been doing?”
Though her face doesn’t show it, her eyes are cringing at asking a stupid question. I stare at her making her feel the idiocy of her question.
“I don’t know, Granger, I failed at killing myself how do you think I am?”
“Well then, it seems you are still as sarcastic as ever. Do you have anything you want to talk about?”
Why does she even bother asking? No I have nothing because I don’t want to talk to you. What an idiotic question. So I shrug.
“Well, what about me, can I talk?”
I nod. If she wants to she can do anything. But I can’t.
“Well, Ron and I got married eight years ago and we have two children, Riley and Elloise. They like to get in trouble… “
Wow. Who knew that Granger would blush all over her kids? Strange.
“…Ron and I use to hang out with Harry but now that he is in this place…”
WHAT? Mask back on. Oh fuck she saw.
“Does that surprise you? It didn’t find it surprising at all. He was always quiet and shy. He never wanted attention and when he got so much of it, it hurt him, the sneers and newspapers and the taunts have damaged his self-confidence and made him really insecure. The last time I saw Harry, he didn’t say much besides "yes" and "no" and he didn’t want to play with the kids. Which is what freaked me out the most, Harry loves kids but he wouldn’t go near them. A few weeks after that his house elf, Plinky, fire-called us to say Harry was not moving. And we rushed over to find him lying on the bathroom floor with an empty pill bottle next to him. Nothing was as terrifying as that moment, I mean absolutely nothing.”
“Well that’s all our time for today, Mr. Malfoy, I’ll see you tomorrow. Maybe you’ll be up to talking then?”
I get up and walk back to my room in a daze. If the saviour of our generation tries to kill himself, then what is going to happen to the rest of us? We are so screwed.
This is suppose to be inside Draco's mind and he is talking to himself. Everyone talks to themselves, though I am not sure if everyone fights with themselves this often.
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Always know someone out there loves you and if you feel like committing the big S. Don't. Talk to someone. Somebody will care.
-Laura
-Attention Deficit.
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Angel Of Mercy