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James and I were on our way to visit our parents for the week, when we spotted the man on the side of the road trying to hitch a ride. He was nothing more than a stranger to James, who was ready to ignore him after all the warning our parents had given us all our lives about strangers, and especially about picking up hitchhikers. But I recognised him. How could I not?
Mum and dad had told us all about what they had gone through when they were younger - the battle they had fought as teenagers, and the friends that had stood by their side. The people they had had to fight against. We had heard all about Draco Malfoy, and I had grown to find him fascinating. Where I was probably expected to hate him for all he had done, I had come to think of him as just another victim, just like Mum and Dad. He was just a kid, and who knows what any of us would have done, had we been in his shoes?
Draco had tried to better his life, and I had seen his name all over the place, growing up. It looked like people were willing to give him a second chance and forget about the past, but over the years his name had faded away slowly. Articles were no longer being written about his career or about the good things he was doing, and instead it was like he didn’t even exist anymore. People say it had nothing to do with what had come out about him, but deep down I knew better.
Some low-life journalist who refused to believe that Draco could be a good person had started digging into his past, and they had found a former friend of his who was willing to spill the beans about him. About the way he struggled with depression, and how he had tried to commit suicide on several occassions.
The journalist had confronted Draco with their findings, and instead of lying and hiding, Draco had confirmed what his former friend had said was true. Without going into further detail, he revealed that he was still struggling with his mental health, and instead of people praising him for his honesty, it had been used against him. He had been deemed unstable, and all the good things he had done over the years were being written off as a lie he had hid behind.
I was still fascinated by him, and I appreciated his honesty - even if others didn’t. I would try and find information on him every now and then to try and find what he was up to, but the press no longer wanted to write about him. Over the last few years I had only found the odd article here and there, mentioning his mental health, or pieces he had written himself about his struggles. He was still trying to be honest and to help others who were going through the same thing, but every time he opened his mouth, he was being shut down and ignored.
But to me it had been his honesty and his work for those struggling with mental health that had made him so special to me. So how could I ignore him?
I told James to pull over, but Draco Malfoy was nothing more than a name from our parents’ stories to him, and I could tell that he saw nothing but a horror-movie scenario in picking up this random stranger. Even after I told him who this man was, he still hesitated. But he knew that I wasn’t going to let it go, so we pulled over, and I got out of the car.
“Hey.” I tried my best to flash a smile and hide my nerves. Because here he was; this man who had been a source of inspiration to me for years - a kind of role model when I was at my worst. Part of me was excited to finally meet him, but when I saw him from close-up, it truly hit me just how lost he looked. My first thought was to get back into the car and tell James to drive, but I couldn’t leave Draco standing there on his own. Even if it scared me to see him so broken. “Do you need a ride?”
He looked into the car, and I could tell that he was hesitant to get into the car with us. Perhaps he thought we were just two kids, looking for trouble, or perhaps he was worried what would happen to us if people found out we had picked up the Draco Malfoy. But finally he gave a nod as he took off his sunglasses to greet me.
“I’m Draco.”
“Albus.” I shook his hand and I tried my hardest to show him a genuine smile - to hide how worried I was. Not only because of the way he looked, but because he was standing here in the middle of nowhere, trying to hitch a ride. “Where are you going?”
He mentioned a place not far from where Mum and Dad lived at the time, but as soon as we got into the car and I said that we were heading in that direction too, James hit me in the arm. It was obvious that he didn’t trust this man, and that he didn’t want me to tell him any information about ourselves. But even though we had never met, I knew that Draco wouldn’t harm us. I trusted him, and I knew that he wasn’t the monster the press had made him out to be.
James wasn’t convinced though, and even as we drove off, I could tell that he was tense and that he kept checking the rearview mirror to make sure that Draco wasn’t up to something. “Don’t you have a car?” He finally asked. I glared at him, because I somehow felt protective over this fragile-looking man that we had picked up, and I didn’t want my brother to bother him. But James ignored me, and he shot me a ‘What? He could be about to kill us and dump our bodies!’ - kind of look, before going on, “Where are you going anyway? Do you have family out there?”
“It’s just me,” Draco mumbled, my gut telling me that I should say something. That I should do something. But what was I supposed to say? I may have known who he was, but to him we were just two strangers. He didn’t even know that we were Potters, and that we had grown up hearing stories about him from people that had known him as a boy.
James stayed tense, and even as we stopped to grab a bite to eat, he would not stop staring at Draco as though he expected him to snap any second. Draco had ignored him, and he had quietly sat at a table by himself, clearly being made uncomfortable by James’ obvious hostility towards him. It made me angry, because Draco was clearly not well, and he could do with kindness. Not with being ignored or treated like a criminal. So I confronted James, and after an argument that ended with things being said that we would both later come to regret, we agreed that we would stop for the night and drive on to Mum and Dad’s in the morning. Because if we were to get into a car again, surely we would only go on fighting.
I was going to tell Draco our plans for the night, but that’s when I found him leaving the restaurant and heading for the road to hitch another ride. I felt like I had let him down, and it made me feel awful. So I ran after him, and somehow I managed to convince him to stay with us. It caused another argument between James and I, because what was I thinking, suggesting I’d share a room with this stranger? Was I trying to get myself killed? Or worse?
Draco wasn’t a stranger though, not really, and truth be told, I was scared of what would happen if I didn’t keep an eye on him for the night. I didn’t tell him or James that, though.
I felt nervous once James had gone into his own room, and it was just Draco and I in our room. I had heard stories about this man all my life, and I had looked up to him for so long, yet the man awkwardly hovering by the dirty couch was not the man I had made him out to be in my mind. And yet, at the same time, he was exactly how I thought he would be. I wasn’t sure what to make of how I was feeling, or of the fact that we had picked him up on the side of the road - of the fact that he had nothing on him, other than a pair of sunglasses.
So I stared at him, until he finally sat down, and he flashed a small, awkward smile.
“I’m not sure if this is appropriate or not, but I need to say this,” I said, and I could tell that it made him nervous. So I quickly explained, “I know who you are.”
“I figured,” he sighed.
“I’m not telling you because I care,” I went on. “I know that what they’re writing about you isn’t true.”
“Isn’t it?” he mumbled, but I chose to ignore him.
“It’s just that you went to school with our parents…”
Draco stared at me for a moment, until a knowing smile formed on his lips.
“Potter?”
My heart skipped a beat as he said my name, but I tried not to let it show. “I just wanted to thank you.”
“Thank me?” he scoffed, probably still thinking about my parents - about the fact that they hadn’t exactly been friends.
“For everything you’ve done,” I explained. “Talking about mental health… trying to make it easier for people to open up when they’re struggling… it’s important.”
He just stared at me, still looking so broken and so far-gone, that I knew I had to tell him.
“My family told me to keep quiet after I attempted suicide,” I told him, and for the first time since meeting him I could see emotion in his eyes. “It made it a thousand times worse. If it hadn’t been for you - for the things you said - I would never have been able to open up about it and to ask for help. I’m still here because of you.”
I wasn’t sure what I was expecting, or if I was expecting him to say anything at all. But I had to thank him - I had to let him know how much of an impact his words had made, even if people had tried their best to keep him quiet.
He took a deep breath, before getting up and coming over to me. He wrapped his arms around me, and he held me so tight that I could almost feel his heart beating against my chest.
“I am so sorry,” he whispered into my neck, and he held me for the longest time.
“What happened?” I asked once we were sat down on the couch. After opening up to him, I felt more comfortable asking him, but I wasn’t sure he would tell me. After all, I was still basically a stranger to him, and even his closest friends had betrayed him, so why would he trust someone like me? “I know that look, Draco. I know why you’re running away. I’m not stupid.”
“I’m sorry.”
I wanted more from him. An explanation, some kind of emotion instead of an empty apology. I wanted to keep asking for the truth, because I wanted - no, I needed to know what had broken this man who had once been a beacon of strength to others. But I could tell that he wasn’t going to tell me, and that there was too much pain. So instead of asking, I went to bed, hoping to still find him with me in the morning.
Part of me was expecting him to run away during the night, but he was still there in the morning. When I woke up, he was just getting out of the shower. Only a few hours before he looked like he was about to crumble, but that morning his eyes seemed brighter and he looked like a different man entirely. And when he saw that I was awake, he flashed me a smile.
“How are you feeling?” I asked him, not sure what to make of this drastic change. Not sure if it was genuine.
“Better,” he said, but I could tell that there were words inside of him, fighting for a way out. I was still a stranger though, so he was holding back, probably not wanting to scare me off.
“Talk to me,” I said as I sat up. “Please.”
He hesitated, but finally he sat down on the edge of the bed and he gave a small nod. “You were right. About why I ran away,” he admitted. “I haven’t been doing well, and I just…” He shrugged. “I was tired.”
I know what it’s like to be the kind of tired that can’t be fixed with a nap. The kind of tired that makes you feel emotionally and physically drained, and that seems to go on forever. That makes every single day feel dark and heavy and that makes you lose hope - that makes it feel like even breathing is exhausting.
“What you told me last night…” He continued, clearly trying to steer the subject away from himself. “About what you’ve gone through. How are you now?” he asked me, and even though I knew that it was just a distraction, I couldn’t help but smile. “Are you alright?”
“I’m okay.” I nodded, and when he reached out for my hand, I let him take it. “Are you?”
“Not really,” he whispered with a teary smile on his face. His walls were already coming down, and even though I wasn’t getting the full story yet, at least he was no longer pretending anymore. “But when you told me that I somehow helped you…”
“You did.”
“There are still people out there who are struggling, so maybe I can…,” he tried, but the spark was already leaving his eyes again, and I could tell that the darkness was already back taking over.
“You can’t help anyone, Draco. Not like this,” I told him - harsh as it was. “You have got to take care of yourself first. Talk to someone, maybe a doctor… But don’t do…” I couldn’t get the words out, but we both knew what I was trying to say. We both knew what his plans had been when he had run away. “Just don’t. Please.”
Even after I had survived a night alone with Draco, James still seemed hesitant to trust him. But he tried his best to not be so on edge during breakfast, and he had even started chatting to Draco. There had even been some laughter. Draco seemed different, but I was still fully aware of what he had run away for - what he had come out here to do, and I was not willing to let him out of my sight just yet. So when he said that he was going to find someone to give him a ride back home, I objected immediately. He was a grown man, and he could do as he pleased, but when I suggested he’d come with us to visit our parents, he didn’t object. Perhaps because he could tell how worried I still was. Perhaps he came with us so I could look after him - perhaps so he could look after me. Perhaps both. I am still not sure, even after all this time.
I could see the pain in his eyes as my parents greeted him as though he was an old friend. He was clearly expecting to be met with hatred - for the past to be held against him as it always was. But Mum and Dad smiled their way through coffee and cake, and not once did they let the facade slip. Draco was tired, though, and it was obvious how much it hurt to be confronted with an unbroken family. The kind of family he never had, and never would have. To be confronted with the could-haves and the if-onlys. To feel out of place. He was hurting, and he tried to hide it, he really did. But I recognised that look in his eyes. I knew his pain.
“There is no such thing as a perfect family,” I told him one night, as we sat out in the backyard, watching the stars. “Trust me, this one isn’t. All of this… the family meals, the pictures on the wall… it’s all part of the facade. It’s not real.”
“Do they still not talk about it?” Draco guessed. “About what happened to you?”
“What do you think?” I asked him, and he flashed a knowing but heartbroken smile, before looking back up at the stars. “I have tried bringing it up, but every time I do, they want to talk about something else. What I did… how I feel, it doesn’t fit in with what they want their family to be. So they pretend it didn’t happen. I survived, so what does it matter now, right?”
“It matters, Albus,” he stated matter-of-factly. “Of course it matters.”
I knew he was right, but it hurt, trying to talk to my parents. Even talking to James about it hurt. He had no idea what it was like, and no matter how hard he tried to look out for me and to say the right words, he just didn’t understand.
“I’m glad you’re here,” I told Draco. I wanted to thank him again - try and explain how much it meant to me, having someone to talk to. But I didn’t want to make him feel like he had to listen, like he had to stay. So instead, I smiled at him, hoping that he understood that I meant it, and that I wasn’t just saying it to be nice.
“Me too.” He nodded, as he took my hand, and he brushed his finger gently over the scar on the inside of my wrist. “I’m glad we’re both here.”
I still remember that night, every time I look down at the scar on my wrist. Every time I am faced with my darkest moments.
Draco saved my life in more ways than he ever knew, and for some time I thought I could save him too. But when I woke up one morning, he was gone. James said that I should try and find him, but I knew that there would be no point. I knew exactly where he had gone and why.
Deep down I had always known that it would end like this.