h.p.

draco malfoy cannot cure me. i still have nightmares every other night i sleep. however, i wake up in his arms every time. he wakes up when i pant in alarm and wraps his arms around my waist tighter.

"it's okay," he'd whisper and we'd tell each other about our nightmares and he'd comb my hair through his fingers and i'd twist the ring that his mother had given him as an heirloom on his finger. and when we were done, he'd hum in my ear until i'd fall asleep again.

draco malfoy cannot cure me. i still feel like the press is out to get me. the daily prophet, the tabloids, and the journalists are all scrambling to find stories in my absence, but at least i'm not alone.

i have a hot temper and i'd throw the daily prophet in the trash and storm the house shouting. draco, who's a hot topic in tabloids himself sometimes never belittles my anger.

"it's fucking stupid!"

"i know, it's outrageous. the journalists are absolutely untalented and are basically just pulling bullshit out of a hat at this point," draco agreed.

"since when did i have a life threatening condition that i'm trying to hide by leaving the wizarding world?! now i'm getting letters from people worried out of their minds!" i exploded.

"and the daily prophet seems to think i've committed suicide because they haven't seen me in five months," draco sneered. he imitated a high pitch voice, quoting part of the article. "according to recent evidence, draco malfoy, the son of well known death eater, lucius malfoy, has ultimately ended his own life. he was last seen buying a large amount of whiskey, looking lifeless and skeletal. experts think he was depressed and an alcoholic. we haven't seen him and his manor looks empty. it is possible that he has ended his own life,"

i paused. "well at least some of that was right."

draco shrugged. "yeah i was depressed and an alcoholic, but now my mother seems to think i'm dying and wants to come back from her visit to my aunt in america early."

draco malfoy cannot cure me. sometimes i start crying in the shower about how i'll never see the faces of lupin or sirius or fred or my parents or tonks or dumbledore ever again. it's absolutely pathetic. i'd try to keep my volume down as sobs racked my body so i wouldn't attract attention, but it'd never work. he'd come in and see me crying naked and it'd be really pathetic and sad, but he would never ever make fun of me for it. he'd just hold me, and dry me, and listen as i try to speak incoherently and tell me that it was okay.

draco malfoy isn't my remedy, he's everything i could want to numb the pain.

i am not his remedy. he still wakes up in sleep paralysis, unable to move, but he tells me in the morning that me being in between his arms always helps.

i am not his remedy. i cannot erase his dark mark or his past but i can kiss his wrist and tell him that it's okay.

i am not his remedy. sometimes he gets cold and distant and he tells me he still doesn't know how to express love correctly, never loving anyone like this before. i told him to just take it slow and learn along the way.

we cannot cure each other and change each other into perfect human beings. we can only be imperfect together. and that is enough.