AN I don't own HP or any of the characters! Written for the IWSC Round 4
Story Title/Link: I'll Be Better
School and Theme: Mahoutokoro - The Whomping Willow: look at the theme of bullying in schools and/or the workplace.
Main Prompt: [Genre] Hurt/Comfort
Additional Prompts: [Emotion] Betrayal, [Action] Searching
Year: Two
Wordcount: 1264
"Have you seen Malfoy?" Again, all Harry got were a few headshakes or dismissive shrugs in reply. Honestly, he should have expected nothing less. No one here even cared—that was the whole problem—and yet he still somehow expected sympathy from them. Stupid.
He wasn't sure why he cared. No one else seemed to, and they'd made that clear from day one of Malfoy's employment. From tiny things, like not including him in department memos by 'accident' or 'accidentally' increasing the heating charm in Malfoy's office, to… not-so-tiny things. Like the way Malfoy's lunch always went missing mysteriously, or like the hate mail that supposedly 'slipped past' the Ministry filtering charms and ended up flooding Malfoy's office. 'Death Eater' was still carved into the wood of his desk from his first week. (poor Draco :( )
The hazing had gone too far, though. It had crossed the line months ago and Harry hadn't done anything because Malfoy hadn't wanted him to. But now he was panicking and his body was weighed down with nothing short of regret.
"Have you seen Malfoy?" Robards shook his head, but Harry wasn't even sure why he was asking the man. Just last week, Robards had shoulder checked Malfoy in the hallway and 'mistakenly' used the last of Draco's red ink, promising to buy him more as soon as he found the time.
"Have you seen Malfoy?" But he didn't wait for their responses because he could remember those two faces laughing down in the archives when they'd managed to trap Malfoy in a storage closet. The blond had panicked—instantly reminded of the Room of Requirement and the Fiendfyre—but they'd all just laughed. It was just a 'harmless joke,' they'd said.
It didn't seem so harmless now.
He could still see the terror on Malfoy's face during their Eighth Year as he (had) trembled under the hate-filled wands of bitter other ('other bitter' sounds better imo) students. If he thought about it for long, he could hear the tremor in the blond's voice after three bottles of firewhiskey when he'd confessed to almost failing out of the Auror program. Not because he couldn't handle the job, and not because he'd found a better calling. Simply because he couldn't take the hatred anymore. (omg I'm crying this is so sad)
"Have you seen Malfoy?" Hart shook her head, and Lancaster just raised an eyebrow. As if the idea of anyone but Harry knowing where the blond git could be was absolutely ridiculous. Or maybe it was the idea of anyone but Harry caring was the ridiculous part.
His mind was reeling, half focused on finding Draco and half spiraling off into a rabbithole of memories. Merlin, Draco's face back in Myrtle's bathroom… Even now, he still caught glimpses of that old, helpless panic in the blond's face on particularly rough days. Every time they caught a case that pushed them a little too far, Draco would loosen his tie and ruffle his hair in the exact same way. And, every time, Harry felt that same panicky, urge to protect deep in his chest.
He was legitimately starting to panic, now. Draco wasn't in their office, or the archives, or in any meetings that Harry could find. His coat was still hung up next to the door, and they hadn't talked about going out after work or going home early. So where was he?
As a last possible resort, Harry found himself outside the door to Hermione's office. It was ridiculous, of course, but Hermione was also the closest thing to a friend that Draco had in the Ministry and—
"Harry, thank Merlin. I was just about to owl you. He said he didn't want to talk to anyone but I figured you would probably be the exception. Please, just don't start a duel in my office, okay?" She motioned to the door, but mumbled something about deadlines and taking their office if they were going to take hers before he could question her further.
Harry took a deep breath. Whatever it was, he could handle it. No one here in the Ministry would be stupid enough to do actual, physical harm to the blond so whatever it was would be—
Merlin.
Harry froze in the doorway, stuck on the image his mind was sure he was seeing. There was no way, right? And yet...
Draco looked horrific. He'd been hit with a few stinging hexes and was holding a bag of ice to one of the nastier marks on his thigh. No black eyes or lacerations, thank Merlin, but that didn't cancel out the messiness of his hair or the tears falling into his dress shirt. He was shaking and Harry's heart just shattered.
Before he even realized what he was doing, he was on his knees and he was holding Draco as tightly as he could against his side. The blond jolted, and started to reach for his wand, but then seemed to realize who it was and collapsed into the hug. Harry couldn't stop smoothing his hair long enough to notice. (omg this is the most beautiful paragraph I've read in my life)
"Jesus, Draco, I'm so sorry I didn't—"
"Don't." Right. Draco hated apologies and hated having to reassure him that he'd done nothing wrong even more. This wasn't about him, this was about Draco.
"Okay, yeah, you're right and I'm sorry— I mean, can you tell me what happened?" Draco shuddered, shaking his head even though he clearly intended to answer.
"Shepherd and Rollins… They said they wanted to put the past behind them and they wanted to take me out for a drink after work but I said no. I didn't trust them, but they seemed so sincere… They said they'd set up a meeting with Kingsley to get the others to be nicer too. They just needed a signature or two, they said, and it was Kingsley's office so I thought it was safe but… I was wrong." Merlin's beard… Anger surged in his veins and Harry was overcome with the desire to personally hunt and punish both Shepherd and Rollins for daring to lay a hand on Draco. (poor Dray! He thought people were actually being nice to him but no. Just more jackass behavior)
"Potter, don't." He was gripping the blond's hand too hard, he realized, and the anger must have shown on his face. Draco didn't need his anger right now, though, so he forced himself to breathe. In,(no comma) and out. Slowly, he made himself focus on the task at hand.
"You're right, and I won't. I won't do anything about it without talking to you first but that isn't what's important right now. How are you holding up? Do you want to see a healer?" Draco shook his head—just like Harry knew he would—and shrunk down a little smaller into his side.
"Okay, if you're sure." Harry's voice kept going. He was aware of his lips forming the words and he could imagine that Draco could hear them but they were just words. It was just a constant stream of chaos inside his head. Between that and the shaky way Draco was still holding onto his hand, he couldn't stop.
"I'm so sorry, Draco. I'm sorry I didn't do anything and I'm sorry people are so horrible and—" He kept going, losing touch with the words again. Vaguely, he knew he was apologizing. Maybe to Draco, maybe to the world. Regardless, his voice kept going without his input: whispering apologies, promising to be better, and—most of all—promising to protect the blond.
Thanks so much for reading!