Chapter 21: Panic and Learning
Harry woke early and looked around, confused. He turned to the side and saw Draco sleeping soundly. We stayed here all night. That'll be a bloody brilliant explanation for Ron and Hermione. He slowly eased himself away from the blonde, trying not to wake him.
"Leaving so soon, are we?" Draco said with a sleepy drawl.
"Shit, I'm sorry. I tried to be quiet," he whispered.
He sat against the headboard and watched Harry find his clothes. "Why?"
"'Cause you were sleeping so well and—"
"Not that, why are you leaving?" His hair fell messily around his face as he stretched.
"Ron and Hermione will ask why I'm not back if they find me gone this morning," he replied as he pulled on his shirt and jeans.
"This would be so much easier if you were a Slytherin. We aren't as nosy," Draco grumbled.
Harry climbed back in bed and pulled the blonde into a hug. "I'm sorry. I'll be back soon though," he offered as he caressed his love's jaw. "Before I go, how has it been going?"
He sighed, knowing it was only a matter of time before the Gryffindor asked about eating and cutting. "It's alright."
"Really?" He inquired with raised eyebrows.
In response, Draco dropped his glamours.
Harry stared at the scarred, beautiful body before him. There were only three fresh cuts.
"One for every day you were gone," he whispered. "I didn't mean to. It just happened before I realized what I was doing." His fists balled around the fluffy comforter in frustration.
He pressed a gentle kiss to an angry slash on the blonde's ribs. "I'll be proud of you no matter what. I promise," he added when he saw the disbelief on Draco's face.
The Slytherin braced for pain, but felt none when lips met torn flesh. "What about you?"
"I've eaten," he replied softly.
"Drop—" he began sternly.
"No… don't make me… Please," Harry begged and backed away. He hadn't done as well as Draco, not even close. Tears prickled in his eyes as he thought about the look he would receive if he dropped his glamours. "No," he whispered as he climbed out of the bed and started shaking. His head was spinning and he felt as though the walls were closing in.
Draco's face softened as he crawled across the comforter to Harry. "It's okay. You don't have to show me." He stepped gracefully from the bed and handed the Gryffindor his robes. "Here."
Harry dropped them as his shaking worsened and he fell to the floor.
"Harry! Are you alright?"
"No," he whispered. "Panic attack. Help." His words were choppy as it got harder and harder to breathe.
What can I do?" Draco asked helplessly.
"Make it stop," he cried as his mind sucked him into the memory of Voldemort killing his parents. A scream climbed from his throat while the green light flashed around him. He clawed at the stone floor, trying desperately to escape his thoughts.
Draco hadn't the slightest clue of what to do. He shakily pulled the screaming boy into his arms and rocked him. The cries quieted a little. Draco hoped he was helping and stated to rub his back and hum a song his mum used to sing him when he was sick. His heart hammered in his chest as he tried to calm the Gryffindor down.
Eventually, Harry fell silent. His cries turned to soft snores as he snuggled against the strong chest beneath him.
He breathed a sigh of relief. I guess he's not going to make it back in time to tell Granger and Weasel his lie.
Harry woke a few hours later tightly wrapped in Draco's arms. "I'm so sorry," he breathed. Despite the extra sleep, Harry was exhausted. A terrible pain shot through his head as he tried to sit up. "Damn," he hissed.
"What is it?" The blond asked in alarm.
"I always get headaches after these," he replied as nonchalantly as he could. A voice in the back of his head kept reminding him that he needed to get to the common room.
"Do you have panic attacks often?" He inquired hesitantly.
"Somewhat. Are you okay?" Harry asked. He noticed Draco seemed off.
He weighed his options; I could be honest and tell him no, but would that seem insensitive? He just had a bloody panic attack—and I'm the one who's scared? Or I could tell him I'm fine, he can go back to the Gryffindors, tell them his lie and I'll see him later in potions… "I'm alright," he said slowly.
Harry's brows furrowed as he stared at the Slytherin. "What's wrong?"
"Nothing," he spat, quickly realizing how much he didn't want admit the panic attack frightened him.
"You can tell me," he replied softly.
Draco sighed, "I was worried when you…" No, I can't do this.
"When I?" Harry prodded.
After a few minutes he continued. "…When I couldn't help you. You were right there, fighting with your own bloody mind and I couldn't do a damn thing!" He shouted before biting his lip.
"You did what you could," he whispered. Harry remembered Draco's hand on his back and the song in his ear.
"But it wasn't enough, was it? It didn't take away the pain…"
"Draco—"
"I'm only good at giving pain, Harry."
The Gryffindor was thrown off by the admission. "N-no you don't."
"Look at my father. That's me in the future, don't you see? I'm meant to be him. I have to follow where he tells me to go—"
"No! You don't have to do any of those things. You're NOT your bloody father," Harry countered as he realized of what Draco was actually afraid. "You're not your father," he repeated softly and took the Slytherin's hand.
Tears sipped down Draco's cheeks as he knelt beside Harry. His shoulders shook and he slammed into his love's chest. "Please don't let me be him," he mumbled softly.
"Never," he assured him, holding the scared boy close.