An Archive of Our Own, a project of the Organization for Transformative Works
you've got the antidote for me
Chapters: 1/1
Fandom: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Relationships: Draco Malfoy/Harry Potter, Hermione Granger/Ron Weasley
Characters: Draco Malfoy, Harry Potter, Ron Weasley, Hermione Granger, Penelope Clearwater
Additional Tags: Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Soul Bond, Red String of Fate, Heavy Angst, Terminal Illnesses, Major Illness, Angst with a Happy Ending
When Harry Potter unintentionally severs their soulbond before it can fully form, Draco Malfoy resigns himself to a slow death and decides not to burden Harry with a soulmate he's made it very clear he doesn't want.
He's never been selfless before, but for Harry, he can try.
This is why, five days after Healer Clearwater’s visit, he turns to Harry, who’s lying next to him in bed and reading a horror novel aloud, and says, “I have something to tell you.”
Harry pauses, then lays the book on his lap. “You gonna give up all your secrets? I’d rather you didn’t; it’ll be morbid and depressing.”
Draco’s lips quirk up into a tired smile (everything he does is tired. He misses having enough energy to leave his room). “I don’t have any secrets from you anymore. Well, except for the one.” He’s not trying to be cryptic – it’s really just an offhand comment, but Harry’s eyebrows go up. He coughs a little, nervously, but he forces himself to speak. “I don’t know how to tell you, but I need to.”
Something serious and grave settles over Harry’s face. “You don’t have to tell me anything. If you’re trying to… I don’t know, give us closure or something, I don’t want to hear it. I don’t want you to talk like you’re about to die.”
“I am about to die,” he says, exasperated. “You can’t pretend I’m not, and fuck you very much, I need to say this for me as much as you need to hear it. It’s important. It could change everything.”
Harry visibly grows more upset. “I don’t want everything to change, though – I don’t want your confession, especially if it's something bad. Whatever it is, you don’t need to make things stressed now; I’ll be happier not knowing. I want us to be happy right until…” He trailed off, swallowing.
“It’s important, Potter,” Draco huffs, struggling to sit. He coughs again – this time from the pressure in his chest and lingering pneumonia – and Harry softens, moving to push him back onto his pillow.
“Merlin, Draco, stop,” he sighs. “Fine. If it’s that important, tell me. I just don’t want you to feel the need to tell me things just because you think it’s the thing to do.”
“It is the thing to do,” Draco disagrees. “And this is something…” He swallows. He can’t explain it, or explain himself.
There’s a very long moment where Harry just looks to him, concerned and ever so slightly curious. Then, he just says it.
Harry’s eyebrows furrow in confusion. “What is?”
Draco doesn’t answer him properly, but he feels his own expression weaken into something vulnerable and afraid. “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you. When it first happened, you seemed so angry, so offended I even spoke to you, that I figured… I figured it was better for us both if I didn’t say anything. I thought it would be a bother for you, that you’d feel obligated to – I just didn’t want to make a bigger problem than there already was, and I felt… crushed. I didn’t want to reveal that pain to you.”
Realization – and horror – is dawning on Harry’s face. “A bigger problem? Are you saying what I think you’re saying?”
He presses his lips together tightly, bottom lip wobbling, but after a minute he nods, his hair mused against his pillow. “I’m sorry,” he whispers. “Once we became friends, I didn’t know how to tell you, and I didn’t want you to feel obligated to me. I just wanted to be friends, to know what it was like to be around you. I wasn’t trying to take advantage.”
There’s a storm brewing in Harry’s eyes. “You weren’t trying to take advantage. You just became my friend, to torture me by letting me watch you die – you just wanted to… fuck, Draco.” He hangs his head, pressing his palms against his eyes. “I cannot believe you, you – you berk.”