Hi everyone! I'm a board-certified physician assistant with a creative side. These short stories that I write are all centered around a specific medical diagnosis, but use the Harry Potter characters to help bring awareness and "life" to the disorders that people around the world live with every single day. In writing these stories, I hope to advocate for those with medical conditions and promote representation for all. I don't own the rights to Harry Potter, I have no conflicts of interest, and my stories are not intended to be used as medical advice or treatment. Please talk to a licensed medical professional about any health concerns you have.
It wasn't even light out yet. The darkness of the morning was still pressed tightly against the curtains, the chill of the air stinging. Narcissa's slow, even breathing seemed unbothered by the silent panic that was possessing the other side of the bed where Lucius had been awake for hours yet again, tossing and turning. The all-too-familiar heart palpitations and rapid breathing came in waves as memories from time spent in Azkaban flooded his mind. Every time he closed his eyes, he was overcome with images of the things he'd seen while imprisoned, with the panic of not knowing if his wife and son were safe in his absence. He swore he could still hear echoing screams in the empty halls of Malfoy Manor from the time his home had been used as the base for the Dark Lord's operation. He couldn't escape. He couldn't escape these thoughts and memories and they held him captive in his own bed night after night, the stress and the weight closing in tighter.
Narcissa let out a soft sigh in her sleep, startling Lucius as he became entangled in his own mind. His heart skipped a beat and his chest squeezed in pressure - - he started thinking about their current problem with Draco. In the past eight months since the end of the war, Draco had become severely withdrawn, sometimes not even leaving his room for several days in a row. It caused arguments between Lucius and his wife, because they both wanted different goals for their son; Narcissa wanted Draco to leave home and get intensive treatment, Lucius wanted him to stay within the manor and come to a resolution on his own. These disagreements seemed to make it even worse for Draco. He'd stopped talking to them almost completely, and wouldn't even join them for meals on most occasions. Lucius knew that Draco was upset with him for everything that had happened throughout the course of the war, but the past few months had been far more intense. He felt a bubble rise up into his chest and burst with a painful squeeze. Why couldn't things just go back to the way they were when Draco was just a boy, before everything got messy and entangled?
The burning feeling showered throughout Lucius's chest making it difficult to breathe. He sat up, clutching a fist over his ribs. "Is it a nightmare?" Narcissa whispered through the darkness, sleepily pushing herself up and reaching for her husband's arm. She was accustomed to the early morning awakenings with anxiety and long sleepless nights plagued by night terrors. Lucius drew a deep breath. "No," he gasped, shaking his head. "No, just worried." He heard Narcissa quietly yawn and shift so that she was pulling him to lie back down. "He'll be alright," she whispered. "He's strong. It's our job to worry, but he's going to get through this." Not wanting to open up this conversation with the stress and pressure he was already feeling, Lucius closed his eyes and tried to pretend that he'd gone 'back to sleep' so that perhaps Narcissa would as well and he could go back to getting lost in his own thoughts once again. Thankfully, his plan worked, because his wife was fast asleep in a matter of moments. Lucius stared at the ceiling, letting the waves of pain crash over his chest repeatedly. He deserved this, he deserved this suffering, he knew he did.
Before long, sunlight started peeking through the curtains, and by this time, the pain had intensified in Lucius's chest. It was tight and slightly difficult to breathe, and he noticed that the anxiety was causing his fingers to tingle. He decided that he was going to get up and at least make some tea to calm some of his nerves. He threw on his robe and crept out of the room, careful not to wake Narcissa. He barely made it halfway down the staircase before he had to stop and hold onto the rail, pausing to catch his breath and keep his vision from swimming. What on earth was going on? He knew he'd had anxiety and panic before, but it had never lasted this long into the morning. And he could usually resolve it himself by walking around the manor. A sick feeling rose up from the pit of his stomach. Lucius sank onto the step he was standing on and put his head in his hands. His chest squeezed with an exhausting pain that was beginning to creep down his left arm. He could feel that he was breaking into a cold sweat. The anxiety had never been this intense before. He felt like the entire world was closing in, like a giant stone was sitting on his chest and pressing down onto his heart causing it to nearly burst with every beat. "D-D..." he stammered out, trying to gasp for air. "D-Draco!"
He had to see him. Something bad was happening and he just had to see his son. This couldn't be just another anxiety-fueled attack, this couldn't be just another panicked morning awakening, this wasn't just a nightmare-driven breakdown. He truly felt like something was very wrong. He felt hands grip the back of his shoulders and hurriedly begin to tug off his robe. "D-Draco..." he wheezed out, hoping that he'd heard him and come. But it was Narcissa - - her eyes wide with worry, her face drawn. "Shhh," she hushed. "Lucius, what's the matter?" The tingling in his fingers had extended up to his wrist-he didn't feel her gripping his hand. Struggling to catch his breath, he used his left hand to make a gripping motion at his chest. "I-I...I need to see D-Draco..." he gasped out. Narcissa pushed some strands of sweaty hair off of Lucius's forehead. "Please calm down," she murmured. "You're scaring me." Lucius tried to take a few deep breaths. He couldn't remember the last time he and his wife were this close, the last time she spoke so softly to him, the last time she'd touched him so gently. "C-Cissa..." he whispered. "I'm going to die,"
Narcissa pulled away slightly. "Don't say that," She squeezed his hand a little tighter. "Don't say that Lucius." But he shook his head, adamant about this intrusive thought. "Something isn't...s-something's w-wrong..." he stammered. He could feel sweat pouring off of him despite how cold the manor typically was at this hour of morning. "Where's the pain?" Narcissa tried to ask, and he could tell she was doing all she could to keep it together and stay calm. He clenched a fist over his chest. "Lucius, I think you're having a heart attack. We need to get you to the hospital. Come, get up."
"Cissa, they won't take me."
"What?"
"They're not...going to take a former Death Eater in for t-treatment."
"...That's nonsense, of course they will - -"
"Just let me die."
A sharp stabbing pain shot through Lucius's chest again and straight down his arm, which he clutched close to himself with a groan. He saw Narcissa stand and hurry down the rest of the stairs to the library, where she was likely activating the Floo network in the fireplace there. Within moments she was back and helping him to stand. Lucius couldn't walk more than a few steps without needing to stop and catch his breath. "Just get Draco," he panted. "I-I need to see Draco!" Narcissa tugged his arm gently to get him down the rest of the steps. "No, you need the hospital. We can't waste time, Lucius." He groaned again as another sharp pain seared straight through his chest, and he practically collapsed into the fireplace as Narcissa shouted the destination as St. Mungo's. He felt a rush of air and gasped for breath one last time as he took a look at his home before it faded away in front of him, wondering if he would make it back, if he would ever see it or his son again.
The blur that came with entering the hospital made the chest pain and breathlessness no better for Lucius. Within minutes, nurses were forcing potions into him and attaching wires connected to long rolls of parchment tracing readings of his heart. He was thankful that Narcissa was doing much of the answering to the multitude of questions that were being shouted out all at once. A doctor walked into the room and all questions immediately halted. "Mr. Malfoy, it's an inferior heart attack, otherwise known as a Widowmaker. There isn't a moment to lose. We need to get you into treatment straight away. We'll be using a reperfusion technique that Muggle hospitals use and that has been shown to be very effective. I know...you may not prefer it, but it's the only thing that will save you. Do you consent to this treatment?" he stated. Narcissa squeezed Lucius's hand at the word 'widowmaker' and bit her lip, unsure if her husband would consent to a Muggle procedure. She bent down to his ear. "Let them do whatever they must," she whispered. Lucius nodded. The nurses kicked the brakes off the bed and began moving it towards the hallway that would take Lucius to the only hope of saving his life. Narcissa stayed behind and held onto his clammy hand until it slipped out of reach.