Fanfic: Like the color of hope by Nunuuhy (Read for Free, 1,332,114 Clicks)

Description: Harry was lost. At least that was how he felt. Lost, guilty. His friends couldn’t understand how was to live with part of Voldemort inside him, but he can. He lived with him. Draco Malfoy was as broken as him.

Characters: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive WarningsDraco Malfoy/Harry Potter Hermione Granger/Ron WeasleyHarry Potter Draco Malfoy Hermione Granger Ron Weasley Ginny WeasleyPast Harry Potter/Ginny Weasley Anxiety Attacks Panic Attacks Slow Burn Enemies to Friends to Lovers Mentions of child neglect Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder – PTSD Mentions of War Luna Lovegood is a Good Friend Post-War Maybe mentions of depression and suicidal thoughts Don’t know if its explicit or mature but better safe than sorry

Summary: Summary:

Harry was lost. At least that was how he felt. Lost, guilty. His friends couldn’t understand how was to live with part of Voldemort inside him, but he can. He lived with him. Draco Malfoy was as broken as him.

Notes: Notes:

Hello! This is Yuuhy. It’s my first time writing here so I’m truly sorry in advance for any mistakes. I’m trying but English is not my first language so, yes, help is welcoming if I made any gramatical mistake!Hope you like this baby as much as I do. It was on my mind for so long that I didn’t know if I should post it or not. PLEASE remember to read the warnings before the chapter. This fic contains quite explicit anxiety and panic attacks. **Aditional tags may be added.**All the HP and so universe belongs to JKRowling.

Chapter 1: Fake it ’till you make it

Chapter Text
How to deal with a pain that breaks your heart? How to stand up and do what it has to be done? How to live thought the loss knowing that you are, in part, responsable?
Summer was one of the worst for Harry. Funnerals, trials. He didn’t even remember going to all those places. He was on automathic. Pain, guilt. Survive.
What to do? What everyone expected him to do? What he wanted to do?
Rest.
He wanted to rest. To the nightmares to stop. To the panic attacks to go. To the fucking pain to dissapear.
That morning, Hermione came with a not-that-surprising letter from Hogwarts. Wanted he to return? It was his home, the only one he really know. But too many memories, too much pain.
But he was supposed to come back to finish his studies. Because that’s what a Savior does, isn’t it? Good things. Things that matter. Things for a better future.¡­…………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………Draco was looking at that letter for, almost, half an hour.
¡°We expect you to return to finish your studies as a part of the new 8th year¡± it says.
We? Who? Not McGonagall, that’s for sure. But expect was a funny word. The Wizengamot made it clear: he MUST return to Hogwarts as a part of his sentence.
That’s not a good idea, Draco kept saying to himself. How can he…with all he did? How to look at Potter again after all? He didn’t even thank him for speaking at the trial.
Two months had passed and Draco still didn’t know why was he still breathing. Going to the school is an open door to hexes and shame and guilt and all those things he’s sure he deserves. But not going means Azkaban. And Azkaban means his father and he’s sure that’s a worst idea.
War changed him. That bloody phycopath changed him. He didn’t even know who was he anymore. What a stupid mess.
But he’ll come back. Because that’s what has to be done and he’ll prove to everyone (and to himself) that he’s better than his father. That he can be a good person, someone one can be proud of. ¡­…………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………….Fire. Too much fire. Too hot, too strong, too deadful. He ran and ran and the fire was still there. He climbed and climbed and the fire followed him. He closed his eyes. Please, he thought, help me one more time. Please. And he opened his eyes and saw green. Too green, too bright.
Potter.
Potter on that stupid old-looking broom. Potter offering his hand. A chance. He put his hand as up as he could to catch potter’s but instead of soft skind he heard a cold laught.
“You don’t deserve it, right? You are just a Death Eater scum. Why sould I risk myself to save you, Malfoy? Why someone would want to save you? You are a murderer.”
No, no, no, no.
“I’m…I’m not.” He realized he was crying. “Please, Potter. I’ll do whatever you want, please. Help me.”
“Why sould I?” Potter laughed and turn to his left. “Hope you burn in Hell, Malfoy.” And as a blink he was gone.
“NO. NO. POTTER. “His hands were sweating and he was falling more and more. That table wasn’t going to save them forever. “Please, please, come back, please.” He couldn’t stop the tears. He wasn’t a murderer. He didn’t want to kill anybody. “Please, help me.” The table trembled and he knew he couldn’t grip it for more time. His hands hurt. Maybe this was his destiny. Maybe he just should stop trying. Yes. He should. He was bad. He didn’t deserve to live. He looked at his friend. “I’m sorry.” And he jumped.
“NO.” He woke up screaming and sweating. He heard fast steps and a door opening.
“Draco? Draco?” His mother entered to the room, trying to be as calm as she could. He sit on the bed and hugged him. “I’ts okay. You are here, you are safe. ” All the summer she was waked up with Draco screaming and crying and she didn’t know what to do anymore. St Mungo refussed to help them and they didn’t have enough money to go for a private appointment.” Nobody is going to hurt you, my boy. I’m here. We are safe. Can you hear me?” Draco nodded. “Good. Can you breath with me? Nice and slow. In. Out. In. Out.”
It took twenty good minutes to calm Draco.
“Do you want to talk about it?”
“No, mother. I’m fine.” Lie. Lie. Lie.
¡­…………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………….The Burrow was….silent. Since the summer it was full of people but it was suprisingly silent. It seemed like everyone was afraid that, if they talk, they will notice the loss. And it was his fault, like Teddy growing up without his parents. All his fault. Voldemort was right in one thing, was worth it all the dead and pain all this years? Yes. He is dead and muggleborns and half-blod are safe. The world is safe again.
But Lavender was dead, and Colin, and Dumbledore. And Snape. And thousand more. And all because he is (or was?) the one with power to stop him. But he wasn¡ät powerful enough to do it by his own, was he? He had to sacrifice friends, and family, and….too many people. And then he died. And came back. But all other remained dead.
Cedric.
Cedrid died because of him. Wrong place wrong time. Because he was with Harry Potter. Because Voldemort was ready to come back. Because he was still alive to fight him.
So was it worth it? Still yes, but a what price? Why is he alive when others are gone? It wasn’t fair. He doesn’t deserve to be hugged. He doesn’t deserve to be surronded by love and soft touches and wishpers of wining. Yes. The battle was down and they kind of won but it felt like he walks alone in fear all day. Where does he goes from there? Why was the path so unclear when he’s, finally, going home again?
Merlin, he can’t. He coudn’t go back there. He can’t think of enter to the Great Hall and imagine all those bodies laying there. His friends, his clasemates. His family. All because of him.
The air seemed thicker and his ears were riging. And the room was smaller? Why was the room shrinking? His vision was unfocused and he couldn’t take enough air to breathe. It was his fault, all his fault. He should be dead. He should be dead. He was trembling. He knew it but he couldn’t do anything. His heart was beating fast. Too fast, too loud. He started hiperveltilating and everything was turning upside down. Or was he? He couldn’t breathe.
“HARRY.” That voice was familiar, wasn’t it? But it was too far, too small. ” Harry, can you hear me?” Who was talking? He knew that voice but his heart was too loud and his breast was too small. Not enough air. “Harry. Listen to me. Listen to my voice. Can you do that for me? Can you focus on my voice?” Focus. Yes, yes. He can do that. But it was too far, too far. “Harry, I’m going to touch you. That’s okay? Just my hand.” He felt warm. Soft. Skin? That was a hand, yes. He reconiced that hand. Hermione’s hand. Hermione was his friend. “Yes, that’s right. Focus on me. Do you know who I am?” He blinked. “Harry I need you to breathe with me. Slow. Count with me. In. Out. In. Out- In. Out. In. Out. He didn’t deserve love. “No, no. Harry. Listen to me. Focus on me, focus on my breath.” In. Out. In. Out. “That’s right, that’s right. You are doing it. Slow. In. Out. In. Out.” Why was he crying? Why coudn’t he stop shaking? “Breathe, Harry. Breathe with me, you are doing it so good. Nice and slow. Keep going.” In. Out. In. Out. Why was Hermione here? In. Out.
“Hermione.” He whispered.”Hermione.”
“Yes, it’s me. It’s Hermione, Harry. Keep breathing. You can do it.”
It took some time to calm Harry enough to stop crying and trembling. She put him in bed and he fell asleep in seconds. She closed the door slowly and go to sit with Ron and Ginny. They were in the living room, not knowing what to do. They knew Harry was pretty bad, traumatised said his mother, but they never have been present when he was having a panic? anxiety? attack. What was that? It was because of the war?
“He’s sleeping.” Hermione said. “This one was pretty bad I think. I don’t know if he reconized me the frist time.”
“Did he said something?” Ron asked.
“Not a word.”
“We need to help him, he’s not good. He needs to see a Mental Healer. He can’t be like that all his life. Something is eating him.”
¡­…………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………….Two weeks until Hogwarts. Two not-long-enough weeks. He had all his books (delivery by owl because he didn’t want to put one single hair outside the wards of the Manor) thanks to one of his mother’s friends. He had his trunk packed. He had his old robes, that were far too big for him now, because he coudn’t expend more money. And that was good. That was deserve it. He didn’t need new robes, he didn’t want new robes.
He wanted to remind himself that this situation was his fault. No magic outisde the castle, home arrest for his mother. That was thanks to Potter because it could have been way worse. And they would still deserve it.
He didn’t thank Harry por helping him and his mother, did he? No. Because he’s a Death Eater scum and he deserves to rot in hell. But he SHOULD thank him, because this is what the new Draco he wants to do. Because it’s the right thing to do.
So…here we go, said to himself. He took a piece of pergamin and quill. In. Out. In. Out.
Potter
No. That’s wrong. He wants to be a new person.
Harry
That’s better. But weird.
Harry
Frist of all I want to thank you for speaking at my mother and I trials. It was unexpected but welcoming.
Sorry for taking too long to write to you but I didn¡ät know if you wanted to hear anything from me. So thank you. I won’t forget it.
“Should I ask him for his summer? Of course not, stupid. Imagine what kind of summer he’s having with the weasley twin and the werewolf professor dead….”He remember having a peak of sadness when he read that one of the weasleys twins was gone. They were funny. He didn’t have a lot of memories about Lupin, but he was a good professor. A bit weird but he was a wolf so….
Don’t know if you have plans of going back to Hogwarts but if you do, see you there. I’m trying to be a better human.
Best regards,
D.Malfoy.
“That sounds wrong, too.” He didn’t want to be a Malfoy anymore.
Best regards,
Draco.
PD: Shapire is a good owl, don’t worry. She won’t try to bite you.
Better.
“Give this to Harry Potter. Only to him. And if he’s alone, better. Go.” He said petting his mother’s owl. Saphire was a good friend and way less imposing that the black royal eagle the Malfoy family owned.
¡­…………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………….What the hell was that? ¡°I’m trying to be a better human?¡± He furrowed. “Good for you.” He said. He coudn’t belive that Malfoy wrote to him. To thank him. He fucking wrote to say thank you. The fuck just happened?
“I can’t deal with this now.” He said to the gorgeous owl. Saphire, right? “Are you waiting for a response?” The owl looked at him with her big eyes. “What do you want me to say? You are welcome for saving you life and your mother. Is the least you deserve for saving mine? Actually that’s true but isn’t it to….direct? Too impersonal?” He closed his eyes.”Why the hell it has to be personal, god? It’s just Malfoy. The stupid Malfoy.”
He gave some treats to Saphire and put the letter inside his trunk. “You can go, girl. No worries.” The owl made a discomfort sound but spread her wings and got lost in the night.
So Malfoy was going back to Hogwarts, uh? That was unexpected. But it’s not his choice, his braind reminded him. “Ah, true. Part of his sentence.”
“What sentence?” Ginny’s voice sounded at his right and he jumped. “Sorry, Sorry. Didn’t pretend to scare you.” She looked concerned. These days everyone was looking at him like a small and lost puppy and he hated it. Since that big bad anxiety attack they were treating him like a baby. It was stupid and anoying.
“Nothing. Just daydreaming and talking to myself. Are your things ready?”
“Yes. Mum is knitting another scarf for me. Now I have six different colors.” She chuckled but didn’t reach her eyes. “Are yours?”
“Hmm. I don’t have many things so yeah. Should we be going?”
Today was the day. Diagon Alley. People. He’s going to be outside the wards and surrounded by people. Was he ready? He didn’t want to have another panic attack like the one when the trials begun. That was scaring, even wrost that the last he had. But he can do it, right? He’s Harry Potter. He defeated Voldemort. He can go there, buy his things and go back to the security of the Burrow.
It was a disaster. Once they arrived to Diagon Alley people started to try to touch him and thank him and hug him. Hermione almost hexed two for coming too close. At the end they made it but it was a nightmare. He didn’t even remember most of the day.
“I don’t want to go back. “He said to the room. Hermione and Ron were there. She was reading some muggle-novel and Ron was playing with her hair. Oh, yes, they were an item now. Good for them.
“Why not?” Asked Ron. “You love Hogwarts.”
“I just….I don’t want to go.” Harry hugged himself. He was sitting on one of the small couches.
“It’s a bit late now, mate.”
“Ron….” Hermione looked at him with that knowing eyes.
“Stop doing that!” He snaped. “I’m tired of your actitude.”
“What actitude, Harry?” Hermione asked.
“THAT actitude. You all treat me like some kind of stupid baby cry that’s gonna explode if you talk too loud. I’m sick of this. I’m sick of Hogwarts. I’m sick of the magic.”
“Harry….”
“No. Let it go. It’s late and I’m tired. Goodnight.” They said their goodnights and Ron went to close the door.
“He’s getting worse. Today was too much, Mione. He’s not ready. He needs help and he needed it now.”
“What do you want to do? If he doesn’t want to go to a Mind Healer we can’t do nothing.”
“He will go. I don’t care if he wants or not. That’s exacly what he’s going to do. I don’t know how and I don’t know when, but he’ll go. He deserves some peace.”¡­…………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………….The Aurors came to the Manor when he was having his breakfast. He didn’t eat that much these days but he tried to eat, at least, one full meal at day. Why were them there? They weren’t expecting them until noon. He started to feel the punch of the anxiety and forced himself to breathe and count to ten.
“Good morning, Aurors. I thought you were coming at noon? ” Said Narcisa. The Aurors looked at each other and, one of them, the one who seemed the oldest, nooded to the others.
“We changed the plans. We recived an owl telling us that your security might be compromised so we are going now.” Draco nodded and wen for his trunk. One of the Aurors, the black haired one, went with him.
“It’s not like we care if they kill you or not, but orders are orders.” Draco nooded. No shit Sherlock, that was obvious.
What the hell was he going to do alone in the castle?
They apparated him at Hogsmeade and escorted him to Hogwarts.
The castle was still under reconstruction, but it looked better than the last time he saw it. No fire, no Death Eaters. He noted a punch of guilty. This was in part, ina big big big part, his fault. He shouldn’t be there. He needed to go back home.
“Walk.” One of the Aurors said.”We don’t have all day.” ¡­…………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………….He was already regretting going Hogwarts by train. Not half an hour there and he had tu run to the toilet sensing another peak of anxiety coming. This is stupid, he said to himself, you defeated Voldemort. He put his hands on the door handle.
“You can do it, Harry.”
He arrived at their compartment and, gladly, just Hermione, Ron, Ginny, Neville and Luna were there.
“How are you, Harry?” Asked Luna. He liked her, she was a good friend. And she didn’t look at him they way the others had been doing all summer.
“I’m fine. A bit tired and a bit hungry.” Lie lie lie. “I’ts okay, really.” He said smiling. He will be better eventualy. His friends were there, war was over, no more runing. Just…living. He’ll try to find the spark again, and he knew the only way to do that was living. But it felt so wrong….
Hogwarts was beautiful, it was a breathtaking view. It was almost like new. McGonagall said in the letter that ¡°helping with the reparations of the castle will be expected and rewarded¡±, so thats was a start point in that new post-fighting era. He could do that. He could help. He’s good with magic even if he didn’t use his wand during the whole summer. And he had two wands, now. Time to return the other one to his original master, maybe? That was the last remind of the war, he could do that and then try to forget. Harry really really wanted to forget.

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