A Warm but Firm Hand And Cold but Gentle Eyes. Salvation Comes In Many Forms
James can’t breathe.
His mouth is open, air is entering and exiting his body, but he is suffocating.
The panic he feels is louder than his quick breaths, hotter than the cold ground of the boys locker rooms, and more painful than the failure he is feeling.
Because James failed. The game had already started badly, his head not on the pitch where it was supposed to be, but somewhere else, distant.
The weather had been terrible, the rain mercilessly soaking his Quidditch robe.
But right now all James could think about was breathing.
Even that, he seemed to fail at today.
At some point, he heard a voice, distant at first but coming closer.
Then a warm hand on the nape of his neck. He thought touch would feel wrong right now, overwhelming. Instead, it felt grounding.
“That’s it, slow down, everything is fine. Just breath. In. Out. In. Good, keep going”
The voice was also grounding.
“It’s all right, shhh… In. Out. In…”
James doesn’t know how long they stay like that. He and the stranger, but eventually the breathing thing gets easier again and James feels tired. Bone-deep exhaustion fills what the panic left hollow.
The only thing he registers are eyes made of a stormy, cloudy sky before everything gets dark.
He wakes up on a comfy bed. The first thing that makes him realize this isn’t his bed, is the view. Instead of the brown wood of the bunk bed above his, there is a painted ceiling. It shows constellations of the night sky, moving as the seasons change. Thousands of stars, scattered like mirror shards, creating a light that-
Stop! Now is not the time for poetry
Inspiration has very bad timing, you see? It comes during an exam or an outing with friends, times when he has neither pen nor paper.
The awe-inspiring ceiling isn’t the only thing that’s different though, the duvet is supposed to be red, like most things in the Gryffindor dormitories, but this one is green which means he is in-
James shoots up immediately.
“Finally. I was about to call Mrs. Pomfrey at this point.”
James turns around to see a familiar blonde enter his field of vision,
“Malfoy. Why the hell am I here?”
“Well seems your panic attack tired you out quite a bit since you fell asleep.”
It is then that James remembered. The pani- the breathing. The floor of the boys’ locker room. Malfoy coming to his aid.
Oh shit
“I have no idea what you are talking about. I was just having a hard time catching my breath after the game and-“
“James, I know what a panic attack looks like. Have you been having them a long time?”
It had happened the first time during second year. James had been terrified once he had calmed down enough to google it. Turns out panic attacks usually come as a trauma response or too much stress and get triggered by something. James realized pretty early on that he couldn’t tell anybody about it, if he didn’t want the fragile house of cards that was his life, to fall down.
“I don’t have panic attacks” he grits through his teeth.
Malfoy only sends him a pitying look.
Now, it’s not like James despises the other boy. In the depth of his mind a very different feeling comes to mind, but he was a Malfoy, the son of his father’s childhood enemy, a Slytherin, and the reason Albus didn’t speak with his family anymore. And now he was pressing a subject he should really leave alone.
“Malfoy I’m warning you. I don’t care that you are a year younger than me, if you don’t stop with these groundless accusations, I’m going to hex you.” He warns too tired to care about his attitude.
“So I’m assuming for a while and for some reason you don’t want anybody to know if the way you are getting all defensive is any indication.” The other snaps back without the least bit of precaution.
“I don’t have-“
“How about we just tell Mrs. Pomfrey and let her decide if it’s a panic attack or not?”
James’ eyes get big and he can only beg as panic sets in once again.
“No you- we can’t- not, wait.”
“Hey, calm down.” There is a hand on the back of his neck again. Warm and grounding.
“Easy, breathe in. And out. In and out” Malfoy’s voice and his warm touch are the only thing keeping James from losing himself in that fear again. Oh, how James hates that fear, following him everywhere, lurking in the shadows, waiting for a moment of weakness.
“James, does anybody know?” Malfoy’s voice is gentle as he asks and James can’t find the strength to lie so he simply shakes his head.
“You need to tell somebody. If you are too scared to do it alone I can help.”
“NO! You aren’t telling anybody about this. This isn’t your concern, your problem, your nothing! This is nothing.” James states grabbing the younger one by his shoulders, “You hear me? Stay out of this!”
Malfoy only looks at him. There is nothing giving away what he’s thinking. James wishes he was better at reading those icy eyes.
The boys stare at each other in silence for a tense few moments until Malfoy’s voice cuts through.
“Okay,” he says, voice decisive but gentle “I won’t tell.”
James lets out a relieved sigh, “But, from now on you have to tell me every time you get a panic attack.”
“What?! But-“
“No buts. If you are going to refuse help from people outside, you are at least going to accept mine. This is the only way to keep me quiet. Otherwise, I’m going to McGonagall right now.”
James can only stare at the boy in disbelief, but the look in his eyes tells him he won’t win this.
“Fine” he spits out “not that it would be of any help, since I can only call you once the… situation is over. So how the hell, would you be of help?” he asks.
“I’ll find a way. I’ll contact you soon.” He shoots back before his face softens again as he asks “Are you okay now? Do you need anything?”
Too overwhelmed by the way the worried look on the other boy’s face makes him feel, James can only muster a short ‘hmph’ before he stands up and leaves the room. Another sleepless night awaits him.