Chapter Text

Chapter 1

Draco

Plot Overview: Draco gets a letter from his father. Harry finds him crying in the bathroom and they don’t fight each other.

The days were starting to blend together. Wake up, pretend to hate Potter, kiss the pug-faced snot, Pansy and pretend to like it, call Granger a mudblood, tell everyone within earshot what his father will hear about... It was infuriating. He had been putting on this act for so long he didn’t even know if he had a real personality under all the classism and snobbery. 

This particular Friday was especially mundane. He woke up, showered and got dressed in the near-silent dorms, and then quickly finished a two-foot long essay that was due later today for Charms. Eventually, his girlfriend Pansy came down to the common room from the girls’ dorms, ready to be escorted to breakfast. She kissed him on the temple and, as per usual, immediately began whining.

“Come on Draco! That essay is more than done. It’s almost a foot longer than mine!” Pansy lamented, tugging on Draco’s arm, which caused him to leave a large ink blot at the bottom of his parchment. Sighing, he shrugged her off as he blotted the stain as best he could.

“You don’t think I consistently receive top marks in my classes by doing the bare minimum, do you?” He asked, an eyebrow raised. “I work hard for this recognition - something you could work a bit harder for. Not to mention, we have NEWT’s next year to prepare for.” Ignoring her squeals of indignation, he allowed Pansy to wrap her arm around his and began walking from the dungeons to the Great Hall.

Pansy wasn’t the worst person that Draco had to interact with, but after one year of dating her, he was starting to get a bit tired of dealing with her constant whining and complaining. It was much more bearable when they were just friends, but his father made it crystal clear that Pansy would be his wife eventually, so he might as well get it over with now. They entered the Great Hall and sat at their usual spot next to the rest of the sixth years, sneering at anyone stupid enough to glance in their direction. 

Soon, the Great Hall began to fill up with students. The noise level sent a throbbing pain to the base of his skull and Draco grimaced, hurrying to finish his cup of coffee and eggs on toast so he could find somewhere quiet to relax before Transfiguration started.

"He's staring again," Blaise muttered to Draco from his seat across from the blonde. Draco surreptitiously turned in his seat to look at the Gryffindor table on the other side of the hall. From that quick glance, Draco noticed that Harry seemed tired, and less cheery than usual. What I wouldn’t give to find out what trouble in paradise there is now, Draco thought to himself, fighting to keep his signature sneer on his face.

"He's either planning a murder or a confession. I'd put ten galleons for the latter." Blaise snickered into his pumpkin juice, causing Goyle to snort coffee out his nose. Draco almost choked on his breakfast at this statement, but managed to school his features into something neutral.

 "You are aware that Potter despises me, right?" Draco asked after disgustedly cleaning coffee off of his robes with a quick spell. "And have you not seen the company he keeps? Unfortunately, he didn't take my hand in friendship when it was offered to him. Now he's too much of a blood traitor to be redeemed." 

As Draco's cronies laughed at this statement, there was a cacophonous flutter of owls flying into the Great Hall to deliver the morning mail. Oddly enough, his father's eagle owl landed in front of him, pecking at his leftover toast. Draco removed the letter from the owl's leg and it gracefully flew off - back to Malfoy Manor no doubt.

"Your father never sends you letters," Pansy said, trying to read over his shoulder. "What does it say?" Draco pushed her away slightly harder than necessary, ignoring her huff of annoyance. She was always trying to snoop into his business where she didn't belong. Standing up, Draco secured the letter in his satchel. It was probably better to read it somewhere where no one could bother him.

"I'll see you in class, darling," Draco said and walked out of the Great Hall, attempting to look normal - snobby, but nonchalant.  He could feel Potter’s eyes burning holes into the back of his head the entire way out. 

Draco easily found an unoccupied classroom and took a seat on top of one of the long, wooden tables. After fumbling around in his satchel for a moment, he pulled out his father’s letter and cautiously opened it. You could never be too careful when it came to Lucius. He was known for testing his son in the most backhanded ways. 

Draco,

Your presence is required at Malfoy Manor this upcoming Saturday. I have already gained permission from the Headmaster for you to travel by floo promptly at noon using his fireplace. You will return to Hogwarts Sunday evening. The time has come for you to prove yourself. If all goes well, you will have gained a new level of respect and prestige.

Lucius Malfoy

Draco read the letter three times before the reality of his father’s coded message sunk in. He knew exactly what his father planned on having him do to “prove himself,” and it involved swearing his loyalty to the most evil man in existence and literally branding that loyalty on his forearm. 

Draco took a shaky breath. It was too soon. He wasn’t ready - he didn’t want to do this! Draco stood up quickly. The classroom suddenly felt too hot, too cramped. His breathing was coming more and more quickly, and he started to feel light-headed. 

Wiping the sweat that was forming on his brow, Draco opened the door and looked out into the hall. Thankfully, there weren’t a lot of students around this time of the morning - most were still eating breakfast in the Great Hall. He stumbled out into the hallway, and made his way towards the quidditch pitch. He needed to get out of the castle - he needed to breathe . 

Draco tried to calm down, but with every step he took, he felt like the world was closing in on him. It barely registered when his legs buckled and he sank to the ground. Trembling, he pushed himself back to his feet and stumbled into a nearby lavatory. He could feel the hot sting of tears rolling down his cheeks as he held himself over the sinks.

This was too much. Draco saw what serving the Dark Lord did to his parents - his mother was a nervous wreck and his father grew crueler by the second. There was no way that joining the Death Eaters would lead to a happy ending for him.  Sometimes, the Dark Lord held meetings at Malfoy Manor. Draco had never been invited, but he could still hear the blood curdling screams of tortured muggles and mudbloods reverberating through his house. They haunted his dreams. 

Draco didn’t know what to do. If he went home, he would be forced to take the Dark Mark and swear his loyalty to the Dark Lord. And who knows what might happen. Draco could be left alone, merely another follower hiding in the background. Or, he could be singled out, given tasks that Draco knew he wasn’t physically - or emotionally - capable of completing.

He fell to the ground once again as he attempted to hold in another strangled sob. It would be so much easier to think if he could just breathe . The panic was pulling him deeper, and he couldn’t claw his way out. It was like he didn’t have any control over his own body. Suddenly, Draco felt a hand on his shoulder. His eyes snapped up and met the eyes of the one person he did not want to see like this. 

“Malfoy?” Potter asked, slowly. His voice sounded foggy, like he was drowning underwater. Draco tried to respond - to tell him to “get lost, Potter” - but all that came out was a wheeze as he struggled to take a breath. 

“Malfoy, you need to breathe.” Potter said, grabbing both of Draco’s shoulders and pulling the blonde to look at him. “Look. I don’t know what the hell is going on with you right now and I know you hate my guts, but I can’t just - ,” Draco let out another sob.

“Malfoy, take a deep breath. In and out. That’s it, there we go. You can’t - listen. I know we’re supposed to be enemies and all, but I can help you - .” Draco finally found his voice.

“No one can help me.” Draco said  as he struggled to control his breathing. “You couldn’t possibly understand what I’m going through right now, Potter.” He took another deep breath as he ran one hand through his hair. “So mind your business.” 

Draco shrugged Potter off of him and stood up, barely catching himself when he stumbled into the sink. He was still trembling and tears were still cutting tracks down his cheeks, but he thought he could make it to the dormitory without any more mishaps. Too much time had passed and he didn’t want to get caught outside during school hours when he was supposed to be in class. 

Looking down at Potter, who was still crouching on the floor confusedly, Draco took stock of the situation. Potter’s eyes were still bloodshot, and there was a seriousness to him that wasn’t usually present. Even with whatever drama that was going on in his life, he still found a way to butt his nose in Draco’s business. Potter could probably guess at why he found Draco in the middle of a panic attack on a Friday morning, which meant that the careful act Draco had been putting on for years was quickly exposing itself. 

“Listen - .” Harry started.

“Potter,” Draco interrupted again. “If you dare tell a soul about this, I will personally make sure that no one finds your body.” He grabbed his bag and started to walk out; but of course, Potter had to call out.

“If you ever need to talk to someone...No one has to know.” 

Draco took one final look at Potter - who had stood up and was wiping his hands off on his slightly dirtied pants, gave him the dirtiest look he could muster, and quickly walked back to the Slytherin dormitories before his anxiety could get the best of him once again.