death wishes and panic attacks
“You’ve got to be joking.”
“Are you fucking kidding me?”
In the inn room, there was only one bed. Which meant that the boys either had to share, or one of them had to sleep on the floor. It wasn't gonna be Harry.
Without hesitation, Malfoy immediately said, “You’re taking the floor.”
Harry physically recoiled at his words. The nerve. “No? You’re the one who cares so much about sharing. You take it.”
“Are you kidding? I would rather sleep on a bed of nails than the floor.” Malfoy scoffed.
“Then I guess we're sharing, posh boy.”
The two of them set down their bags and Draco brought a green pouch to the bathroom. Harry sat on the bed and thought about what could happen on this mission.
What would he do when he saw Sirius again? What about Remus? He would surely be here. He was friends with Harry’s dad. What would Harry do when he saw his father, the man he was constantly compared to? What about seeing his mother? And what the hell would he do abut Peter fucking Pettigrew?
Another thing Harry worried about was having to face Voldemort again. Defeating Voldemort was definitely one of the top three most traumatizing events that have happened in his life. And Harry has witnessed his parents and most of the people he cared about die so that is saying something. Voldemort had tried to kill him twice, and technically halfway succeeded once. Voldemort had killed his parents. Voldemort was the root of most of Harry’s issues. Really, Harry didn't cause any problems in his life, all of it was Tom Riddle’s fault.
Usually when Harry thought about Tom Riddle, his mind went dark, so he snapped out of it. He checked the clock in the room: 2:37. What the fuck had Malfoy been doing for the past twenty minutes?
“Malfoy, hurry the fuck up I need to brush my teeth before I go to sleep.”
“Being pretty isn’t easy, Potter .” Draco sneered. Seriously, why did he always say Harry’s last name like it was a slur? “Not that you would know.”
Harry furrowed his brows and looked at the door separating them. He sighed in defeat. “Just hurry up.”
Finally, after ten more long minutes of Harry trying to avoid thinking about anything semi-traumatizing, the pale blonde git walked out of the bathroom. Harry didn’t have the energy to argue with him or make fun of him for taking so long, so he just quickly ran in. He brushed his teeth, did the rest of his night time routine, and then flopped onto his side of the bed.
Harry looked over and saw Malfoy’s asleep form curled up on the other edge of the bed. Admired the way the whitish hair splayed out on his even whiter pillow. Malfoy wasn’t nice. He wasn’t kind or caring or funny. But one thing that Draco Malfoy was, was pretty. There was no denying his beauty. You would think after generations of the Black-Malfoy family marrying their cousins, at least one of them would turn out a little funny looking, but that simply wasn’t the case. Harry didn’t like Malfoy. He was annoying. His features were all individually odd, but worked well together. It was infuriating. He had ugly pale skin. A strange nose. A set of silver eyes, a freckle just under the left one. Soft li- Harry cursed his thoughts internally. He was not letting himself admire Malfoy’s lips. Harry Potter refused to have a crush on Draco Malfoy. The fact that he was thinking about crawling up into his arms and living the rest of his life there was just him being tired. Nothing else. Nothing. Else.
Harry decided that he should go to bed before any other insane ideas pop into his head. Though, the last thing that Harry saw before falling asleep, were a set of grey eyes looking right at him. A freckle just below the left one.
***
Blood. Blood. Blood.
Sirius, Remus, Fred, Tonks.
Blood. Blood. Blood.
Colin, Lavender, Professor Snape.
Blood. Blood. Blood.
Harry killed them.
James Potter, Lily Potter, Mad Eye, Hedwig.
Harry’s hands were stained crimson. No weapon this time. His arms were covered in blood too. Harry was surrounded by bodies. Blood. Blood. Blood.
Harry looked past the bodies and blood, he was in a vault. The same vaults that were at Gringotts. There were screams of agony. And blood. So much blood. It began to fill the room. It was hot and reeked of metal. The walls were getting closer. There was less room for air. Harry was going to die.
He knew vaguely that it wasn't real. That didnt mean he could do anything about it, though.
“Potter, wake up. Your whimpering is pathetic.” A voice snapped.
Harry jolted awake. He looked around him frantically. The leaky cauldron. He was safe. Harry looked down at his hands. Red. Blood.
He quickly stood up and speed walked into the bathroom. He turned the sink on and scrubbed. He scrubbed and scrubbed for what felt like hours. Soap. Water. Scrub. Rinse. Repeat.
The edges of his vision were dark. His heart was going to beat out of his chest. He couldn't breathe. He was going to die, for real this time. A part of his mind said, thank god, which was not uncommon . He would never tell anyone about that though.
There was a soft knock at the door.
“Potter, what are you doing in there? The sink has been on for thirty minutes.” Malfoy’s voice was deep and thick with tiredness. Harry couldn't stop the small, surprised smile that tugged at his lips. Ew.
He was dizzy and on the verge of passing out but what his mind decided to think about was Draco Malfoy’s tired voice? He needed to get a fucking grip.
“Nothing.” He quickly shut off the sink and dried his hands. He checked them before he turned off the light. Still deep red. “I'll be out in a bit, don't wait up for me. He thought he could hear retreating footsteps.
Whenever Harry got episodes like this, he waited it out in the bathroom. They were never this bad though. Harry was lying, curled up on the cold tile. He was gasping and hyperventilating, desperate for even a short gasp of air. His face was wet with tears. Snot ran down his nose. Maybe this time he would finally suffocate. Maybe it would all be over.
Three soft knocks again.
“H-...Potter?”
Harry couldn't find it in himself to respond.
“Potter, are you alright in there? It almost sounds like you're crying.” In any other circumstance, if Harry told him the full story, Malfoy would be making fun of him for getting so worked up about a nightmare.
Harry still did not respond, too busy gasping for air.
“Um…I’m gonna come in.” The door opened with a soft click. Malfoy seemed to freeze when he saw Harry a mess on the bathroom floor.
He quickly snapped back. He sat next to Harry, careful to not touch him. He instructed Harry to talk and they almost held a full conversation. He reminded Harry to breathe and that he was safe. He didn't press Harry for answers, which was odd considering how nosy the boy could be.
After a while, Harry calmed down. Malfoy stood up wordlessly and guided the two of them back to bed. They got in and layed in silence, clinging to opposite edges. It was clear that it was hard for the two to sleep.
“You up?” Dra- No. Malfoy’s deep, raspy, voice said into the darkness.
“Yeah. Sorry about what just happened. They usually aren't that bad.” Harry felt heavy with the embarrassment of one of his worst enemies seeing him that fragile and weak.
“The panic attacks?” Malfoy asked, “It’s fine. I get them too. If you want to talk about it, I'll listen.” This was uncharacteristically nice for him. When did he become an actual human being? Harry noted to figure that one out later.
“Oh…can we just…forget about it? I don't really want to have to think about it anymore.” Harry answered honestly. The two had agreed to just go back to normal. Pretend nothing had happened, which probably wasn't healthy, but who cares.
Harry tried to sleep, he really did, but every time he closed his eyes all he was was thick, crimson, blood. He tossed and turned until he heard a soft sigh come from the body next to him.
“Are you gonna do that all night?” Malfoy moaned, “You know some of us are actually trying to sleep.”
“Sorry.” Harry snapped, “I guess I just can’t.”
“Just fucking come here.” Harry was skeptical, but inched over towards Malfoy. He felt strong arms wrap around him. At first, he tensed, but he eventually just gave in and relaxed in the taller boy’s arms. Harry's head on Malfoy's chest.
Harry tried to relax but Malfoy’s touch was hot. Hot in the way that things feel when they’re too cold. Like ice, but almost…comforting? Harry tried to ignore the soft rises and falls in Malfoy’s chest. The way his biceps wrapped around him. The soft pink lips that parted slightly. Harry thought about what it would be like to have these moments. For real. Not just steal them while Malfoy was asleep. He wondered what it would feel like to kiss those pink lips. And then Harry wondered what the fuck he was talking about. He needed to go to sleep.
He would not allow himself to fall for Draco Fucking Malfoy.