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English
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HD Hurt Comfort Fest 2025
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Published:
2025-09-04
Completed:
2025-09-04
Words:
1,364
Chapters:
2/2
Comments:
21
Kudos:
40
Bookmarks:
5
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481

You Don't Survive. You Live.

Summary:

Draco Malfoy ends up in a place that he cannot comprehend. When a hooded figure approaches he learns to ask the right questions.

Chapter 1: You Don't Survive. You Live.

Notes:

(See the end of the chapter for notes.)

Chapter Text

Is it death you seek? 

I don’t…I don’t know what I seek. I look towards the sky, but there is no sky for me to seek. There is a world out there, I know there is. But I cannot feel it. I cannot feel the wind on my cheeks. My hair feathering against my forehead. The bitter touch of winter’s approach. I cannot understand why I am here or what occurred for me to arrive at such a place. 

I stretch my hand towards the figure before me, cloaked in shadow and obscurity. It is hard to look at, like staring directly into the sun. 

“Do you seek death?” the voice says again, echoing around me. 

A choir of voices vibrates through the stretch of swirling darkness. 

What do you seek? 

What do you want? 

Do you want to live? 

Do you want to die? 

I don’t know. I don’t know. I don’t know! I want to scream. I want to fall to my knees and beg for forgiveness. For what, I’m not even sure yet. But anything to make them stop. To bring back the silence that I took for granted. 

“Please!” I scream. “Stop.” 

Suddenly, everything goes still. The relief nearly causes me to crumble to my knees. 

“It’s been a while, hasn’t it, Malfoy?” 

The cloaked figure approaches and the agony from moments ago melts into confusion, then quickly sparks into a flame of realisation. 

“Potter.” 

“It seems we meet again, although this time–” Potter raises a hand and draws back his hood. Instantly, I notice the cracked webbing of scars that cover almost every inch of his skin. His skin is like an old ceramic piece, forgotten by time. “–it’s in pretty shitty circumstances, wouldn’t you agree?” 

“What is this?” I ask, and a sense of almost calm comes over me. Potter is here, and for some reason that brings me a sense of security, foolish of me to feel it, but I can’t help myself. There is familiarity here, in a place that I have no knowledge of. 

“This is the veil,” Potter answers and he takes a step towards me. His green eyes flash with curiosity. “Hmm, looks like you still have a choice to make.” 

“Merlin, Potter. Enough with the obscure remarks. What the bloody hell is going on, and how do I get out of here.” 

“You need to make a choice, Malfoy. Do you wish to return or do you wish to stay?” 

“Stay?” I ask. “Why would I stay here?” 

“Because you’re tired. Are you not?” 

Tired. The word’s a bell ringing within my soul. Yes, oh Merlin. I’d forgotten; here in the confusion, the fatigue had become a distant memory. 

Then his eyes, like a guiding light towards home, flash in my mind. Eyes that call me Father. Eyes that I love. Eyes that I cannot leave behind. 

“Yes,” I admit. “I’m tired, but that doesn’t mean I should give up.” 

Potter cocks his head to the side, as if surprised by my answer. Well, suppose that makes sense, considering the reputation I’d developed. 

“Well, if that is your choice then.” From within his sleeve, Potter takes out his wand or rather, a new wand. There’s something familiar about it, but my mind is far too frazzled for me to figure it out, and he points it at me. “Use this second chance wisely, Malfoy. I might not be so gracious the next time.” He swishes his wand in a complicated pattern that I cannot even begin to wrap my head around, chanting words that I cannot understand. The swirling darkness around me grows thicker. Tendrils slither towards me and wrap around my ankles, up my legs and around my arms until I’m completely smothered. The air is pulled from my lungs. My heart rackets against my rib-cage, as if to escape this torment. 

I try to cry out, but the opening of my mouth only allows the shadows to enter me. I try to reach towards Potter, who watches without a single emotion upon his face. Then he smiles, a ghost of what I remember it being, then I am gone. 

“Father?!” the voice desperately pleads. I groan and try to open my eyes, but they instantly protest against the light. 

“Turn the light off!” the voice demands, and instantly, I find relief without the harsh light. I attempt to open my eyes again and there he is: my boy. 

“Father,” he says, relief dripping from his tongue. “You scared me.” His eyes shimmer with tears. “Please never do that again.” 

“I won’t,” I croak. “Come now, no need to cry.” 

He sniffs. “You nearly died!” Wiping his nose with the edge of his sleeve, which I decide to not chastise him for, Scorpius wraps his arms gently around my shoulders. “Never do that again,” he repeats against my shoulder. 

I wrap my arm around him, but as I focus on the warmth of my son’s skin, I can’t help but think about the cold face that had greeted me at death’s door. A face that should not look so broken. 

A face that didn’t deserve the fate it thought it desired. 

~

“I think I recall,” Potter says as he approaches. “That I wouldn’t be so gracious the second time.” 

“I had questions,” I say as I step closer. This time I have my wits about me. I’ve prepared for this. “And you didn’t give me time to ask them.” 

“You’re a fool,” Potter sighs. “This is not a game, Malfoy. This is life or death.” 

“I’m aware,” I say. “But you seemed bored, you know.” I shrug, trying for that air of nonchalance I’ve mastered over the years. “So why not play?” 

A spark so reminiscent of the Potter I used to know flickers behind those dull emerald eyes. Yes, I think eagerly. Take the bait. 

“What game is that?” 

“Well…” I smirk. “Why not an answer for a question? I ask something and if you answer, you get to ask me a question.” 

“And what would I want to ask you?” Potter replies. Shit I hadn’t thought of that. Instead, I try to keep it cool. It would do no good if he sees the cracks showing through my plan. 

“Anything you desire. I’m sure there’s things you’d like to know. How about your son? Wouldn’t you like to know about him? How he’s doing these days.” 

“My son,” Potter says, and the darkness around him flickers. “I have a son?” 

“Well…” Okay, I definitely hadn’t planned for that response. “His name is James. You... don’t remember him.” My words fall flat into a statement.  

“Right,” Potter replies, his voice stiff and distant. Suddenly, the darkness around me recedes and I’m in… a cottage. The air is fragrant, spiced with the fresh smell of herbs and summer. The cottage glows with evening light. I know this is an illusion, but I can’t help but instantly feel comfortable here, as if I’ve lived here for years. As if this were my home.  

“Sit,” Potter demands and I’m guided into a small kitchen where the stove already has a metal kettle boiling on it. “Let’s play this game.”

I smile and victoriously take my seat. 

“I’ll be nice and let you ask the first question.” 

“How do you have your tea?” Potter asks and he approaches the stove, lifting the kettle. 

“A wise first question,” I reply. “One sugar and a dash of milk will do.” 

~

“Father,” Scorpius hisses as he rushes towards me. “Was that… Harry Potter in our sitting room?” 

“Yes,” I say with an amused smile. “He’ll be staying here for a while as he gets himself situated.” 

“What…” Scorpius’s eyes widen with surprise. “Is that what you were doing when you were gone all those months? I thought he was dead.” 

“He wasn’t.” I cross my arms and look towards Harry, who is staring into the fire, his face the most alive I’ve ever seen. “He just needed someone to help him find his way home.” 





Notes:

Caution! This A/N contains distressing contents of death (sibling death).

Hi all! Thank you for reading this fic.

First of all i'd like to give a big big thank you to mods and especially Peach for the support. A huge thanks you to L for the cheerleading and for being just as excited about my story as I was and for the sketch, and to my beta's, you're both superstars 💖

Long story short, I began writing a different fic for this fest, eagerly chipping away at the story as the deadline grew steadily closer. I had a fantastic beta and a cheerleader and was so excited for the story that was unfolding underneath my finger tips.

Then my sister died.

She was 16 and lived with a rare disease called Pancreatic Agenesis. More precisely, she had a gene mutation that caused her to be born without a pancreas and a host of other issues. It was just a regular day. I was getting ready for work when it all happened. It's the first time I helped with CPR. The first time I felt no breath underneath a nose.

My original fic has a lot of allusions to Death. Understanding Death. Even though at the time i'd never even shook it's hand.

Now I have seen what it's like, and I couldn't quite make myself open up my document due to that. But I wanted to write something for this fest so here is what I wrote in the early AM's in an hour.

Do I know why i decided to write in first person? No. This fic is more of a very condensed version of the original fic i'd started, which I hope to finish one day.

Well, that was a very long authors note! Thank you for reading to the end if you did. My prompter, I hope you enjoy.

Lots of love xoxo

Chapter 2

Summary:

Thank you, L, for the beautiful sketch of what I envisioned Harry to look like <3

Chapter Text

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