Five things I like about myself
Warning: mention of attempted suicide and mental health problems
“Ugh I hate being a good guy.” Draco sunk lower into the couch until he nearly fell off, then decided that his current dilemma was dramatic enough to actually lay down on the floor so he slid down onto the carpet. His husband emerged from the kitchen somewhere out of his vision, since Draco was now just staring at the ceiling that was about as blank as his mind at that moment.
“And why exactly is that?” A messy steamy head and a bowl of something cookery entered his view. It sadly did nothing for his mental state, which was still as empty as ever.
“I have to write a list.” Draco stuck his pen and paper up (because okay fine, sometimes muggle inventions were more practical than magic) with a disgusted look on his face.
“I thought you liked making lists?” Harry asked puzzled.
“Not this one. I can’t think of anything.” He sighed dramatically and let his hand fall back onto the carpet. “I’ll just cancel that witch weekly interview, this is too much trouble.”
“Five things I like about myself by Draco Malfoy-Potter. Number one, my neck. Number two, blank.” Draco heard Harry’s disappointed sigh and closed his eyes. That was why he didn’t see Harry coming when he stepped over him and sat down on his stomach, leaning forward to kiss his husband and with that silencing his groan, that he uttered because Harry was too heavy for his delicate frame.
“Get off me you prick.” Draco shoved his husband and rolled them over on the carpet until he felt the weight lift from his body. Harry looked at him worriedly, a look Draco didn’t like on him at all, so when he himself dipped down for a kiss he made sure it was rough, full of teeth and in every way screaming you don’t need to worry about me. Harry had done that quite enough after finding Draco on a bathroom floor with sliced open wrists and a goodbye note that began with see? I don’t hate muggles. I even killed myself the muggle way.
“You don’t hate being a good guy, you hate yourself, and the fact that you still don’t fully believe that you are a good guy.” Harry panted as soon as Draco ceased the attack on his mouth.
“Don’t go all shrink style on me Harry. You’re a primary school teacher not a therapist.” He and his husband could both feel the tension shift from innocent quarrel to fight, though neither one of them felt like arguing. They glared at each other for a full minute before Draco gave in and rested his forehead against Harry’s.
“It’s hard for me okay? To see something positive about myself.” He whispered against Harry’s lips. “They gave me these assignments at St. Mungo’s. Name one thing, two things, three things you like or at least don’t hate about yourself. When they stopped I was up to seventeen, and now I can’t think of any. I don’t even remember what those seventeen things were from before.”
Harry wrapped his arms around him and pulled him closer. His hair smelled of kids glue and had little spots of fingerpaint in it. Draco inhaled the scent like he was a cocaïne addict in desperate need for a fix. Harry removed one arm from his back and used it to push them up into a sitting position.
“You have amazing hair for a start.” Harry told him in the stubborn tone that meant he would not allow Draco to deny it. That had sometimes stopped him but it didn’t today.
“It makes me look like my father.” He stared at Harry’s jawline instead of his whole face. He knew how it would look like anyway. The sadness and fear about this sudden fallback would be nearly visibly tearing at his heart seams. And the devastation reflecting in his green eyes…
Draco knew his mental state wouldn’t improve by looking at that. Harry’s jaw was moving now, and Draco knew he should listen, knew that after everything Harry had done for him he didn’t deserve Draco not even making an effort to pay attention, yet still all he heard was some faint echo coming from far far away.
He snapped back into the present when Harry pushed his chin up and pinched it.
“Hey.” Harry was rubbing tiny firm circles over his back. “It’s okay to feel that way sometimes. Like it didn’t help, any of it. Like you’re back where you started. I know it too you know. We both do.”
Draco looked up from Harry’s jawline to see his eyes were filled with understanding rather than devastation. He felt one hand leave his back and squeeze his hand that was now laying lifeless by his side. His wedding ring made a tiny ping when it collided with Harry’s. A weight lifted off his chest and he pushed his forehead against Harry’s again.
“Thank you.” He pressed a light kiss on Harry’s nose, making him wrinkle it in such an adorable manner that he thought his heart might burst of love.
“For better for worse ey?” Harry gave him a kiss on his left eye in return. It was a silly tradition of them, comfort each other by pressing kisses on unusual places. Eyes, collarbones, earlobes, because it calmed both of them down more than anything else. Harry pulled Draco’s hand up and brushed his wedding ring across his cheek.
“Come on then.” Harry struggled for a bit to pull his legs out from underneath his husband before getting up and holding out his hand. “Let’s make you some tea and then we can discus the one thousand things you should like about yourself.”
Draco accepted Harry’s hand and looked up. He didn’t feel vulnerable with Harry towering over him like this, because he trusted him. He trusted him more than he knew was possible. “What about dinner?” His voice sounded steadier than expected as Harry’s strong arms helped him up and pulled him into a quick hug. He wasn’t looking forward to this talk about all the things he should like about himself, but the prospect of tea made up for it just enough.
“Screw dinner.” Harry gave a demonstrative kick against the bowl of salad on the floor. “We’ll order pizza.”
“You’re the best Harry.” He kissed Harry’s scar while lightly groping his butt to pull out his phone from the back pocket of his jeans.
“I know.” Harry grinned against the one part Draco did like about himself. “That’s why you married me.”