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My Skies are Turning Gray

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Day seventy three.
Sitting on the balcony of his apartment, Draco sat staring up at the sparkling stars of the nights sky. He'd never left his apartment for seventy three days, he'd counted. Every morning he'd wake up and cross off another day on his calendar, he had developed horrific anxiety after the war and he'd spent two hundred and thirty five days in his bedroom at the Manor before his mother decided enough was enough and bought him the apartment.

Narcissa Malfoy loved her son very much, she'd hoped Draco would come out of his shell, learn new skills or enjoy life, he had plenty money so she knew he'd be fine, however fine he was not.

Sighing, Draco dragged a hand through his hair a single teardrop running down his cheeks. It wasn't as if he'd intended to stay in his apartment this long, but every time he felt like stepping out of his door he felt the overwhelming feeling of dread, enough to make him dizzy and sick and he'd given up the idea as fast as he'd ran to the door. Sometimes, Draco would run, hoping that he may actually get out because he'd never overthought it, that definitely wasn't the case.

Sitting up, he peered down at the pavement, his eyebrow raising slightly as he watched his childhood friend Blaise Zabini walking down the street with Ginny Weasley. "Man, I've missed too much." he whispered quietly to himself, peering over his shoulder at the mountainous stack of unread owls he'd left on the sideboard near the door.

Draco rose to his feet and walked towards the sideboard, placing a hand upon the stack of letters, shaking his head. Anxiety clouded his vision and he felt immediately sick. What if one of these letters contained something he didn't want to read? What if someone had sent him hate mail, telling him they wish he was dead. "I wish I was dead." he choked out, between tears. Slapping his cheeks, Draco closed his eyes and took a deep breath. "You're fine. You're fine." he repeated, maybe twenty times before he actually felt fine.
Walking back over to the balcony door, he walked out and sat back down on his chair. 'Tomorrow' he thought, nodding his head.

--

The next morning dawned, Draco opened his eyes and squinted, the sun blazing in his eyes. He'd fallen asleep in his chair again, this was likely not the last time he'd do this. Standing up, he shook his legs a little to relieve the cramp and yawned, walking through the balcony doors, he looked around his apartment. It was light and airy, white walls, plants everywhere - actually everything was white, not a speck of colour on the walls to be seen, the only colour he had in the entire apartment was the greens, purples, pinks and blues from the many potted plants that seemed to adorn the apartment.

Every time Draco's mother had come to visit, she'd brought a new plant. He assured her he'd left the apartment and he was having fun, though her knowing eyes seemed never to believe him.
Walking through the large white wood arch to the kitchen, Draco walked up to his calendar and crossed another day off. "Day seventy four." he mumbled, shaking his head.
After the war, at his trial Draco stood like a statue not uttering a word whilst Potter had testified for him, his eyes were fixed to the back wall the entire time, he'd tried desperately not to cry during the trial, this was very un-Malfoy-ish he'd thought at the time, but as time had gone on and Draco had changed he found that he really didn't care about what was expected of him, what made him 'Malfoy-ish' or really, well anything. The only reason he hadn't attempted to jump off the very balcony he'd fallen asleep on every single day for thirty three days was because he was a coward.

Shaking him out of his thoughts, Draco looked towards the large white front door of his apartment, his eyes wide with panic. The doorbell. The doorbell. The doorbell. He repeated this in his head about twelve times, each time the doorbell rang he felt sick. Slowly making his way to the intercom, Draco pressed the button his bottom lip trembling. "H-H-Hel..oo?" he stammered, sweat began to drip down his forehead at the very thought of talking to another human.

"Hi." the reply came. Draco frowned and pressed down the button again. "Hi?" He replied, trying to regain composure but he was failing miserably. "Is this Malfoy? It's Harry, Harry Potter. I saw your mother in Diagon Alley yesterday and she asked me to come over, apparently you wanted to speak to me?" Draco's eyes wide, he was stunned in place, his mouth wide open. He held his hand beside the button for about 40 seconds before he pressed it. "I think... I.. You... No..." Draco clenched his fist, his whole body had began to shake and he jolted, pressing the button with his hand the intercom buzzed to let him in.

Eyes wide, Draco fell to his knees and shook his head. "No... No.. N-o-o.." he put his hands over his head and started to rock himself. "Please..."
A quick knock on his door and Draco fell apart even more.

"Malfoy?" Potter shouted, knocking a bit more abruptly after a few minutes. "Malfoy?!" he shouted louder, seemingly getting annoyed.
Attempting to get off his knees, Draco stumbled a few more times before managing to prop himself on the front door, he started to fumble clicking the lock on his door he opened it slightly, his eyes scanning Potters face.

Harry looked startled. "Malfoy?!?"