Draco in Crisis!!!
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You know that feeling you get when you're not supposed to be somewhere, but you find yourself there—the feeling of something being wrong, that instinct, the proverbial heckle rising within you? Yeah, that one where your mind screams at you, 'We shouldn't be here; we are not supposed to be here.' That's what Draco was feeling right now.
He couldn't feel his body; he was extremely nauseous, and even with his eyes closed, he could feel the world whirling around him. His body was numb, and despite his best efforts, he couldn't move. There were mean laughter and voices around him. The last time he had felt like this, he had driven a car off a cliff. That night had been hell on earth for him.
He blinked open his eyes; the sharp lights pricked his eyes, and everything was blurry—even the sounds felt blurry. The moment the face above him became clear, he lost his breath.
"No... no... god... please no. He can't be here. I can't be here. Not this... not again."
‘Look at that. The princess awakens,’ the mean voice said with unholy glee. ‘Aw! Don’t be scared, princess; we’ll take good care of you. We don’t want to break our toy now, do we?’
The words were said with a leer, the creepy caress on his leg rising higher—his calf, then his thigh, then even higher. He was trying to scream, but his lips refused to move. His voice was just in his head.
‘Oh, the princess wants to scream, does she? Tch…Tch…Tch… so sad; the princess can’t even move…’ There was that malicious laugh again. The cackles were in chorus.
This cannot be happening again. He had lived through it once. He should not be here. Where was Harry and Pansy? Why weren't they here?
His mind echoed, ‘Oh, Please god no,’ on repeat. He wanted to wake up. He needed to wake up. This was a dream. This had to be a dream.
Someone was clawing his clothes off—his pants, his shirt, his underwear. His binder was cut off by a sharp knife, nicking his chest; he could feel the blood. His vision was getting blurry; he could feel the tears now.
‘Awwww… little princess is crying… Benny look…’ someone mocked. It was Archie. Archie was the one clawing his clothes and cutting his binder.
‘Well, well, well… will you look at that…’ someone was spreading his legs wide. It was Sammy. ‘This bitch thought she could lie to us.’ Someone slapped him. Benny had slapped him.
‘We had such a nice bitch, and we didn’t even know.’ Benny sneered. ‘Good thing I was looking after her. Now, aren’t you happy, we are here to make you feel all girly again.’
It was getting harder to breathe. He was practically heaving now, praying to any god out there who would listen to stop this. He felt something push against his back opening. It was his packer. He remembered going to an ER to get it removed.
His screams ran through his mind, and no one was there to listen to him. He had lived it once; no one had come then, and no one was coming now. There was no Pansy, Theo, or Harry. Maybe it all had been an illusion. Like a last dream before he died. Or was it supposed to be a flashback?
His vision blackened. Someone was sitting on his face, using his mouth with abandon. How lucky he was for the lack of a gag reflex? Someone was pushing into him ruthlessly; his back was stuffed with his own packer. He could feel the blood oozing out of him. He remembered it looking bad the last time too.
He was laughing maniacally in his mind now. He could feel himself drowning in mania.
‘Useless piece of shit.’ Archie wasn’t happy with his blowjob skills. Maybe this time when he drives off the cliff, it will be permanent. Maybe this time Sammy, Archie, and Benny will be happy with him in a single night.
“Draco, wake up.” Someone slapped him, quite hard at that.
“We…need…to…stop…doing…that…” Draco said in between heaving breaths as he sat up.
He was in the hospital wing again, surrounded by his friends. Hermione was still a cat. The rest of them looked scared shitless. If it wasn’t so bad, he might have laughed his pants off.
“- we tried telling her no, but Gemma just wouldn’t listen to us.” Harry was saying.
“What?” Draco tried to focus on Harry, his breathing under control now.
“What do you remember?” Theo asked gravely.
“We were playing Quidditch.” He looked at Harry for confirmation. “Then I got hit by something and I fell. That’s it.”
“You broke your wrist. Harry tried to catch you and sprained his ankle. Unfortunately, McGonagall went to help Harry first and that blunderbuss Lockhart-”
“Don’t tell me he liquefied my bones?” Draco screamed, his horror of the nightmare coming through.
”Yeah…” Blaise said sympathetically. “What is with you and bone injuries?”
“Anyways…” Pansy cut him off. “Pomfrey isn’t here and Gemma Jones wouldn’t listen to us, so she gave you Dreamless Sleep-”
“And I had to live through hell again…” Draco muttered to himself, but judging from the sharp intake of breath, Harry had heard him too. “Next time someone tries to give me that, I don’t care even if I’m dying, I want you guys to stop them even if it lands you in Azkaban.” There must have been something in his voice or his expression cause no one argued with him. They just vowed to never let it happen again.
Harry fed him some water and fruit as he fell asleep to the noise of his friends bickering.
The next time he came around, the hospital wing was silent. Eerily silent. Hermione was sleeping on the bed next to him. Harry was sitting on a chair in between the beds, keeping a watch over Draco.
“You were screaming,” Harry said when their eyes met. “The last time you were just... restless, tossing around, fighting something invisible. But this time you were screaming. No, Don’t, Please god no, Not again. Over and over again.”
That explains the instant acceptance of the vow.
“I keep having these nightmares. The three of them are hurting me, but no one comes to help me…” Draco explained in a low voice, barely more than a whisper. “The last time you came before they could hurt me bad enough. But this time you weren’t coming to save me, I thought you would never come.”
“I didn’t know where to go.” Harry held his hands in his, moving closer. “The last time you were right here.” Harry put his finger in the middle of Draco’s forehead. “But this time I couldn’t find you. I promise I kept looking, but I couldn’t find you.” Harry looked at him, earnest and sincere. “Don’t hide from me again.”
“Don’t let them give me that wretched potion again.” Draco made a lame attempt at humor.
“I won’t, I promise,” Harry hugged him, tight. “I promise.”
.....
January bled into February in no time. Hermione came back all human again, one morning in early February.
Draco’s Mandrake Draughts were proven effective, and Mrs. Norris was back too. Filch was excited beyond belief.
Draco, being the Heir (because he knew about the antidote), was the top running bet once again. Even Montague had tried to congratulate him once on his ‘diabolical’ plan, whatever that was.
The System alerted Draco when Harry found the Diary in Myrtle’s bathroom. The day to face Aragog was drawing near. Draco was looking for portable cameras to capture the moment when Ron came face to face with Aragog. That alone would be worth all this trouble.
Snape had an in-depth discussion with Draco on how he knew about the Mandrake Draught, which, thanks to him knowing Parseltongue, wasn’t very hard to lie about.
Somehow, that discussion led to Snape reminiscing about Remus and Sirius again, which then led to Draco writing to Remus again. (This was becoming a serious problem, to be honest.)
In all this mess, Valentine’s morning came with a bounty of gifts at the end of his bed. One was placed very nicely on his pillow right next to his head. It was a silver ring with a weird carving on the inside and a little note with it.
Dear Draco,
In the muggle world, this is called a Promise Ring. I know you said it was complicated, but Hermione said if I can’t communicate my thoughts with someone, how will they know what I feel? So, this is me making my thoughts known.
I like you, Draco Malfoy, and no matter where you go, I’ll always find you and be there to save you. I promise you that.
You don’t need to reply or even return my feelings. I just want you to know how I feel about you. We can be friends for however long we live. I admit I’ll be hoping for you to see me as more than a friend, but if it doesn’t happen… then it doesn’t happen. It will still be OK.
Yours,
Harry.
(That pushy little git.)
Draco didn’t know how to reply or if he should reply. But as he got ready to face the day filled with Lockhart’s madness, he hooked the ring through the Forget-me-not necklace around his neck and went on with his day.