Deep Breaths
You know that feeling when you can’t keep food down, when your stomach hurts from a simple slice of bread?
And usually, it’s because you haven’t eaten at all. Your body is so desperate for food that it practically blockades itself from being able to process anything you give it.
And the whole cycle repeats all over again.
Draco was slowly grasping the fact that that feeling would stay with him for all eternity.
“Eat something,” Pansy insisted, placing a comforting hand on his back. Draco jerked his body away, a painful sound escaping him. Pansy quickly realized, “I’m sorry, love.”
By now, Draco’s back was covered in dozens a small flowers, each as delicate as the next. They hurt terribly, and anytime he bumped into someone he had to bite his tongue so as to not scream.
“I can’t eat, Pans, I don’t want to vomit,” Draco groaned.
Neville sat quietly. He was usually talkative in the morning, he had grown quite comfortable around his Slytherin group. His gaze was set strictly on the wooden table below, his face rather pale.
“Nev, what’s up with you?” Blaise asked when the Gryffindor became too worrisome.
No response.
By now, Draco and Pansy were waiting for an answer along with Blaise.
Neville swallowed. “Draco, have you perhaps discarded the flowers and petals you’ve coughed up?”
What was he getting at?
“I think so, mostly all of them.” Draco said hesitantly. His body began to tremble. What was going on?
“Then why did Harry Potter come up to me yesterday asking me to identify one of your flower petals,” Neville ran a worrier hand through his hair. “I only told him it was a poppy and didn’t give him any details about its significance but he told me he found it in your room. What are we supposed to do if he finds out you’re dying? It’s getting extremely hard to hide this from people, not just Harry.”
Draco froze.
His fists clenched tightly at his sides. The back of his neck grew warm. His legs began to tremble.
“I-“ He had no words. There was nothing he could say before tears would pour. Without another word, Draco got up and hurriedly made his way out of the Great Hall.
The trio followed him with their eyes, they were about to get up when Pansy grabbed Blaise’s arm. “Look.”
Blaise and Neville saw it too.
The boy who lived had also seen Draco leave. Within seconds, Harry was up out of his seat at the Gryffindor table and following the path Draco took out the door of the Great Hall. He looked determined to find the blonde.
“Let him find Dray. If he doesn’t, we’ll go get him.”
“He’s become very concerned about Draco, hasn’t he,” Blaise pondered.
“You can say that again,” Neville said.
Draco rushed down the corridor, trying to maintain his breathing. He was shaking so hard it was becoming difficult to stand. He clutched onto the wall beside him, his breathing becoming quicker and quicker by the second.
Draco felt mortified, this was not the time to have a fucking panic attack.
He tried to get himself somewhere safe, somewhere he could calm down. He snuck into an old classroom and shut the door.
In an instant he was on the ground, hugging his knees. The room felt like it was shrinking, the walls closing in. He was hyperventilating. Draco could barely breathe. He covered his eyes as tears poured.
His lungs were screaming in agony. It had never been this bad before. There was no way of escaping this. He was going to die.
There was no way out. He was trapped. Harry would never feel anything for him. He was going to die. He was going to-
“Breathe.”
Calloused hands were on his shoulders. They were warm and gentle. They attempted to hold him still as he continued to thrash and shake.
“Draco, breathe. It’s okay, I’m here.”
He couldn’t. He was falling and there was no way back up.
A hand was caressing his hair, another hand cupping his chin. “Breathe, Draco. You’re alright.”
No he wasn’t. He wasn’t alright. He was dying. And he was the only one who knew about it, other than a few colleagues. He was going to die and it was all because of his stupid crush on Potter.
“Draco look at me.”
Soft messy brown curls were the first thing Draco saw. Than those emerald eyes. Then that concerned look that Draco had begun to see more and more of lately.
Harry.
The brute was trying to keep Draco still, clumsy hands still holding his arms. He was muttering soft hushing words to Draco, trying to calm him down anyway he could. His voice was gentle and his arms had a good grip on Draco, which made him blush as he began to breathe normally.
His eyes refused to look anywhere but at the ground as Harry sat next to him, placing a warm palm on his back. The same words left his chapped lips. “Breathe.”
Draco could feel Harry’s cold stare upon him. The Gryffindor was studying him. He knew he looked thin. He knew he’d gotten pale. Well.. paler. He knew he was nothing like the Draco he had been at the start of the year.
“What are you doing here?” It didn’t even sound like his own voice. Draco wasn’t sure if he was the one to ask that question at all.
“I saw you leave, and you looked like someone had died or something,” Harry said, his hand still gliding up and down Draco’s back. Hesitantly, he asked, “..did someone die?”
“No.”
Silence.
“I’m worried about you,” Harry said.
No you’re not. You’re not worried about me. You’re worried about yourself. You’re only here out of guilt. You feel guilty.
“You are?”
“Yes, and I have been for a while now.”
Harry shifted to sit in front of Draco now. Their eyes stared into one another, no real emotion in either pair.
“Tell me what’s been going on.”
I’m in love with you.
I love you and you don’t know it. And you don’t feel the same. And it’s not your fault that you don’t. But it kills me. It kills me everyday to see you so happy without me. And of course I did this to myself. I bullied you. I bullied your friends. All because I couldn’t cope with knowing you didn’t want me in your life. I still don’t know how to cope without you. And now I’m dying. And it’s all my fault. And I love you.
“I’ve just got a lot going on, is all. It’s putting a lot on me,” Draco said blankly.
“Draco, you’re sick.”
“No I’m not.”
“Are you fucking kidding me? Look at yourself! I’ve never seen you so pale.”
Draco stood up, “Don’t you dare tell me how I’m feeling, you’re not me.” He spoke through gritted teeth.
Harry backed off, “I’m sorry, I’m just trying to help.” He leaned back on his palms, staring at the ground. “It just kills me to see you like this.”
It does?
“Don’t say that, you know that’s bullshit,” Draco spat.
“Draco, I care about you.”
Tears pricked his eyes once more, this was not what he needed right now. “You only feel bad because of your savior complex, you feel like you need to help everyone around you. That’s not caring!”
“You think I don’t care about you! I’ve known you since I was eleven, I’ve spent more than a thousand days in class with you, I’ve lost to you in quidditch more times than I can count.”
“So what? You go to school alongside me, that’s it. That doesn’t mean you care about me, Potter.” Draco could feel an oncoming coughing attack but it didn’t fucking matter.
“Yes it does! I know the reputation you have to uphold because of your name. I know that you have to act the way that you do. I know your life at home. I know your parents, your father. I know the kind of treatment you get for not making him proud.” By now, Harry was on his feet and trying to comfort the boy in front of him.
“Shut up. Shut up. Shut up!” Draco slammed his hands over his ears. His throat burned as he suppressed tears. He couldn’t believe what he was hearing.
“Draco, I know what you’re going through,” Harry protested.
“No you don’t. Get the hell away from me!” The Slytherin shouted. He wasn’t safe. He was going to choke to death and no one who knows how to help him would even know about it. God knows Harry wouldn’t know what to do.
“Talk to me then, tell me what you’re going through, I want to help,” Harry stepped forward, trying to ground Draco, who was shaking far worse than before.
“Potter, I said get the hell away from me!”
“Draco, you’re clearly having another panic attack, just let me help-“
Slap.
A distant ringing sound was the only thing he could hear. He felt a stinging sensation in his palm. He ceased shaking. His cheeks had begun to dry of tears.
The mark was beginning to appear. It was red, no doubt it would be painted there for the rest of the day. He could almost make out each of his fingers on Harry’s tan skin.
Teary eyes stared at him, glossy emeralds that had seemed to have lost their usual shine.
He watched the Gryffindor’s lip quiver, his knees beginning to buckle. He watched the brunette bite his tongue as he stumbled backwards.
“Good-..” Harry’s voice cracked. “Goodbye, Draco.”
And with that, the Gryffindor stumbled out of the classroom.