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How to unbreak a boy
Harry has fought Death before. He won (twice). This time, Death offers him a bargain: 14 days to stop Draco from ending his own life. So, naturally, his first attempt involves pancakes and Monopoly (because nothing says “choose life” like a board game that ruins friendships).
- GenresFan Fiction
ebook
Published February 27, 2025
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Displaying 1 - 7 of 7 reviews
October 7, 2025
Oh man, this fic was so painfully beautiful, I cried more than a thousand tears but if I’m sure of something is that they all were so worth it, this was such a masterpiece, so beautifully written and so perfect, and being completely honest, I don’t know how to move on from it. This fic will always occupy a place in my heart and mind, and it will always be cherished by someone while I’m on this earth.
Two of my favorite things of the fanfic were the secret letters Harry wrote every night in his diary that contained all the words that he desperately wanted to say to Draco, but couldn’t. And the list Harry created called: “A Highly Unofficial and Occasionally Ridiculous List of Reasons Malfoy Should Stay Alive (Because He’s Clearly Not Coming Up With Any Himself)”.
Out of all the precious letters, this letter, I believe, is my favorite one:
“Draco,
I’m in love with you.
Stay because I love you.
Let that be a reason. Is it selfish of me to ask that? To want you to stay because I love you? Because I want the chance to love you?
You should want to live for yourself, Draco. I want you to want to live for yourself. First and foremost. But I am greedy. I am selfish. I want you for myself. I want me, Harry Potter, to be reason enough for you to stay. I will take whatever scraps of you I can get. I will gnaw at the bones of whatever you leave me and call it a feast.
I have felt the absence of you, Draco. I have lived in a world where you were not, and it was—God, Draco, it was unbearable. It was like walking through a dream where everything was just slightly off-kilter, just slightly out of focus, just slightly not real.
I was real. The world was real. But without you in it, it didn’t feel like mine. It was like wearing shoes that didn’t fit, too big, slipping with every step, waiting for the day I might grow into them—except I’m grown, Draco. I will never grow into them. I don’t want to. I’d have to get new ones.
And I don’t fucking want new ones.
If you go, you will take the sun with you. I will wake up in a world that still turns, still breathes, still moves—but it will be grey. It will be dim. It will be nothing.
I want the opportunity to love you. Do you hear me? Do you understand what I am saying? All I am asking for is the chance to love you. Not a promise, not a guarantee, just the fucking opportunity to try.
If you so dare to “give me the opportunity, Draco—I would willingly ruin myself loving you. It would leave marks.
Let me. Please.
I am not asking for forever. I am not asking you to want it, or to believe in it, or to swear your life to it. I am just asking you to stay long enough to let me try. Stay long enough for me to prove that I can love you the way you deserve. You don’t even have to love me back. Just let me pour myself into you, let me waste myself at your feet.
Because—because if I lost you now, Draco—
If you leave, you might as well take my ribs with you. Take my lungs, my fucking throat, because I will never breathe the same way again.
There is a version of me that exists only when you are here—that is what I learned in your death. If you leave, you take him with you. You take the only parts of me that feel worth keeping.
Call it selfish, call it ugly. I’ll wear it. Hell, paint it on a banner.
Call it whatever you want.
If you leave, I will never forgive myself.
I will not rise from it. I will not grow. I will not move on. I will not be one of those people who learns to carry the weight of losing you with quiet dignity.
So, stay.
Stay and let me love you.
Stay and let me try.
Stay because I love you, and I will never—never—learn how to stop.
Stay because I don’t want to learn how to love a ghost that answers to your name.
—Harry Potter
(The Boy Who fucking loves you)
(The Boy Who would trade every victory he’s ever won just to see you stay)
(The Boy Who knows that one day, you’ll pick it up again—and when you do, he’ll be there to listen)”
And these are some of favorite reasons Harry wrote on the list:
—You stood in the sun today. The sun , Malfoy. You. Outside. In daylight. And you didn’t immediately burst into flames or dissolve into a pile of expensive ashes, which means I have to assume you are, in fact, not a vampire. (A bit of a disappointment, honestly, but I’ll cope.)—The point is, even the sun would miss you. I think… it gives you its warmth a little differently, like it knows you forget how “—The point is, even the sun would miss you. I think… it gives you its warmth a little differently, like it knows you forget how to feel it sometimes and it’s trying to remind you. Don’t be a bloody arsehole and make the damn sun mourn you.
—You said you haven’t figured out who you want to be. Stay, so you can.
—The garden blooms because of you. It stays alive because you keep tending to it, even when you don’t tend to yourself. (You deserve to flourish, too, you know.)
—If all you can do is keep pretending, fine. (I want it to be real, but) if I have to lie to the sky and kiss the stars and call it Paris—fine. I’ll tell the bed it’s a cathedral and your hand in mine a fucking miracle. I’ll rewrite the truth for you until it hurts less. Just—don’t leave, Draco. Stay. Let me keep lying, if that’s what it takes to keep you breathing. Let me make it real. I swear I will (or die trying anyway).
—Someone who writes poetry about birds—about flight—must still believe in freedom, even if they’ve forgotten how to want it.
—You took my hand—that has to mean something. It wasn’t an ending, Draco. It was the beginning. You can’t leave before we’ve even begun. Please, please don’t.
—I’m convinced your soul is stitched together with violin strings and starlight, and I’d like to prove it. (Preferably over years)
—Keep humming, Draco. I’ll stay quiet just to hear it.
—You said once that a caged bird doesn’t think of the sky as freedom. But today you flew. And you laughed. So maybe you were wrong. You're not caged, Draco.
—I’d follow you anywhere. Into death. Into exile. Into a fucking corner-shop in Kent if it meant I could just keep looking at you.
—Your laugh is rarer than phoenix tears and almost as miraculous.
—You’re a stone wall? Great. I’m building a fucking door and growing flowers against your spine until you forget you’re grey.
—You look at the stars like they might forgive you. They do, they have, they will.
—You said you liked it here. I do too. Stay awhile. A long while. Forever while. Please.
Two of my favorite things of the fanfic were the secret letters Harry wrote every night in his diary that contained all the words that he desperately wanted to say to Draco, but couldn’t. And the list Harry created called: “A Highly Unofficial and Occasionally Ridiculous List of Reasons Malfoy Should Stay Alive (Because He’s Clearly Not Coming Up With Any Himself)”.
Out of all the precious letters, this letter, I believe, is my favorite one:
“Draco,
I’m in love with you.
Stay because I love you.
Let that be a reason. Is it selfish of me to ask that? To want you to stay because I love you? Because I want the chance to love you?
You should want to live for yourself, Draco. I want you to want to live for yourself. First and foremost. But I am greedy. I am selfish. I want you for myself. I want me, Harry Potter, to be reason enough for you to stay. I will take whatever scraps of you I can get. I will gnaw at the bones of whatever you leave me and call it a feast.
I have felt the absence of you, Draco. I have lived in a world where you were not, and it was—God, Draco, it was unbearable. It was like walking through a dream where everything was just slightly off-kilter, just slightly out of focus, just slightly not real.
I was real. The world was real. But without you in it, it didn’t feel like mine. It was like wearing shoes that didn’t fit, too big, slipping with every step, waiting for the day I might grow into them—except I’m grown, Draco. I will never grow into them. I don’t want to. I’d have to get new ones.
And I don’t fucking want new ones.
If you go, you will take the sun with you. I will wake up in a world that still turns, still breathes, still moves—but it will be grey. It will be dim. It will be nothing.
I want the opportunity to love you. Do you hear me? Do you understand what I am saying? All I am asking for is the chance to love you. Not a promise, not a guarantee, just the fucking opportunity to try.
If you so dare to “give me the opportunity, Draco—I would willingly ruin myself loving you. It would leave marks.
Let me. Please.
I am not asking for forever. I am not asking you to want it, or to believe in it, or to swear your life to it. I am just asking you to stay long enough to let me try. Stay long enough for me to prove that I can love you the way you deserve. You don’t even have to love me back. Just let me pour myself into you, let me waste myself at your feet.
Because—because if I lost you now, Draco—
If you leave, you might as well take my ribs with you. Take my lungs, my fucking throat, because I will never breathe the same way again.
There is a version of me that exists only when you are here—that is what I learned in your death. If you leave, you take him with you. You take the only parts of me that feel worth keeping.
Call it selfish, call it ugly. I’ll wear it. Hell, paint it on a banner.
Call it whatever you want.
If you leave, I will never forgive myself.
I will not rise from it. I will not grow. I will not move on. I will not be one of those people who learns to carry the weight of losing you with quiet dignity.
So, stay.
Stay and let me love you.
Stay and let me try.
Stay because I love you, and I will never—never—learn how to stop.
Stay because I don’t want to learn how to love a ghost that answers to your name.
—Harry Potter
(The Boy Who fucking loves you)
(The Boy Who would trade every victory he’s ever won just to see you stay)
(The Boy Who knows that one day, you’ll pick it up again—and when you do, he’ll be there to listen)”
And these are some of favorite reasons Harry wrote on the list:
—You stood in the sun today. The sun , Malfoy. You. Outside. In daylight. And you didn’t immediately burst into flames or dissolve into a pile of expensive ashes, which means I have to assume you are, in fact, not a vampire. (A bit of a disappointment, honestly, but I’ll cope.)—The point is, even the sun would miss you. I think… it gives you its warmth a little differently, like it knows you forget how “—The point is, even the sun would miss you. I think… it gives you its warmth a little differently, like it knows you forget how to feel it sometimes and it’s trying to remind you. Don’t be a bloody arsehole and make the damn sun mourn you.
—You said you haven’t figured out who you want to be. Stay, so you can.
—The garden blooms because of you. It stays alive because you keep tending to it, even when you don’t tend to yourself. (You deserve to flourish, too, you know.)
—If all you can do is keep pretending, fine. (I want it to be real, but) if I have to lie to the sky and kiss the stars and call it Paris—fine. I’ll tell the bed it’s a cathedral and your hand in mine a fucking miracle. I’ll rewrite the truth for you until it hurts less. Just—don’t leave, Draco. Stay. Let me keep lying, if that’s what it takes to keep you breathing. Let me make it real. I swear I will (or die trying anyway).
—Someone who writes poetry about birds—about flight—must still believe in freedom, even if they’ve forgotten how to want it.
—You took my hand—that has to mean something. It wasn’t an ending, Draco. It was the beginning. You can’t leave before we’ve even begun. Please, please don’t.
—I’m convinced your soul is stitched together with violin strings and starlight, and I’d like to prove it. (Preferably over years)
—Keep humming, Draco. I’ll stay quiet just to hear it.
—You said once that a caged bird doesn’t think of the sky as freedom. But today you flew. And you laughed. So maybe you were wrong. You're not caged, Draco.
—I’d follow you anywhere. Into death. Into exile. Into a fucking corner-shop in Kent if it meant I could just keep looking at you.
—Your laugh is rarer than phoenix tears and almost as miraculous.
—You’re a stone wall? Great. I’m building a fucking door and growing flowers against your spine until you forget you’re grey.
—You look at the stars like they might forgive you. They do, they have, they will.
—You said you liked it here. I do too. Stay awhile. A long while. Forever while. Please.
July 21, 2025
Extremely beautiful writing. Filled with amazing phrases that are just really stirring and novel and beautiful. I felt Malfoy was portrayed way too sympathetically. Sure he suffered during the war but he also made many bad choices and was a total jerk before. A lot of fanfics take Draco totally out of character and this was one of them. It was very sweet at moments but just wasn't him.
Warning: Deals with extreme depression and suicide. Not good to read if you're not in a good mental state.
Warning: Deals with extreme depression and suicide. Not good to read if you're not in a good mental state.
August 19, 2025
absolute poetry. i cried several times
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July 3, 2025Choosing to not rate it as I don't think it's fair to the fanfic author that I don't particularly like their style.
For me, it was much too long and dull. But I get the appeal for a different audience.
For me, it was much too long and dull. But I get the appeal for a different audience.
July 28, 2025
beautifully written book. although i would strongly advise against reading it if you are going through a tough time.
September 30, 2025
I was promised tears, but they didn't come. Thats the only disappointing thing about this story. It is excellent, well written and well paced. There is nothing I would change about it.
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December 23, 2025crazy how the greatest piece of literature ever written is a drarry fic from 2025
Displaying 1 - 7 of 7 reviews