Unmasked

Harry did not see Draco at dinner, nor later that night, and although he showed up for breakfast the next morning, he sat across the hall with Pansy at the very edge of the Slytherin table. He didn’t speak or acknowledge Harry, who was growing frustrated. Draco walked around with his head down, arms clutching his books to his chest, with Pansy by his side, seemingly pleading about something. Ron and Hermione continued to nudge Harry, saying it will pass. He knew it would, but it didn’t make the sudden shift less infuriating.

At lunch Draco sat with Pansy once again. Harry and Ron caught her eye a few times as she mouthed, ‘sorry’ over Draco’s shoulder. She was clearly trying to get him to sit with the trio, but as hard as she tried to appeal to him, he was stubborn. Harry wondered if he was convinced, he’d ratted him out to McGonagall, betrayed his trust and spewed all he knew. As far as Harry was concerned, she knew all that she needed to at the present moment, and he’d only been answering her questions. Perhaps, Draco didn’t see it that way.

However, he was broken from this train of thought as said boy’s name erupted from the Slytherin table. “DRACO LUCIUS MALFOY,” bellowed the voice of his father, the howler hovering above him. Draco flinched, his hands immediately raising to cover his face at the sound of his abuser. The hall fell silent, everyone turning their attention to the Slytherin. “How dare you tell your Professors what happens at home? You are a pathetic excuse for a son! Your behaviour is unacceptable for someone of the Malfoy name, and your so-called friends make you a disgrace. You know that you deserve what I dish out. I believe I’ve taught you that by now. Or do I need to drill it in some more? Find yourself lucky that I am delivering this at night . Yes, I know you use a silencing charm at night. Perhaps reliving our sessions in your sleep will serve as an important reminder to not slack in your duties, to do what I say, and ensure you are not disowned. If this continues, not only will you be punished more severely, but you will then be thrown out on the street. No son of mine will act as you do, and you will keep your mouth shut from now on. If you do not, I will have… help… making you obey the next time. Believe me when I say that the ministry will not stop me. And when you come home next, expect your punishment to be worse than it was the last time we met. Much worse. I—or should I say we—will be waiting.”

The letter ripped itself up in midair, shreds falling onto Draco’s plate. Harry’s eyes focused on Draco’s body, taking in his heaving chest, the hands tugging on his collar. Then his hand flew to his mouth as he struggled to stand, and Harry was following him out of the hall as someone called out, “He’s gunna be sick!”

The hall could hear as Draco was sick in the hallway, only half of it making it into the trash can stationed there. Wordlessly, Harry banished it, walking up to the Slytherin. Vaguely, he was aware of Dumbledore settling the students back down at their tables as many tried to follow the pair. He also saw, out of the corner of his eyes, McGonagall and Snape hurrying to the entrance of the hall. Harry ignored it, stepping closer to the blond who was white knuckling the bin as he retched. He laid a hand on his back, but Draco flinched from it, whimpering as he spilled only stomach-acid into the bin.

“It’s only me,” whispered Harry, laying his hand back in the same spot. Draco shuddered, relaxing into his touch. Harry rubbed his back. “Breathe, Draco.”

“Too tight,” he croaked. His fingers were pulling on his collar again. “Too tight.”

“You need to breathe, Draco,” Harry coaxed.

“Too tight,” he gasped. “Off. Off off off. Fuck.”

“Draco.”

“Get it off!” He was yanking at his tie and shirt colour relentlessly. He heaved again, leaning over the bin. Then he gasped for air, shaking his head. “Over, Harry! I want it to be over!”

Harry’s heart clenched, chest tightening impossibly more than it already was. Did he just mean the attack? Or did he mean the abuse… or his life? “I know… I know… let’s breathe…”

“I can’t! I can’t.”

“Yes you can… you can…”

“Please,” he pleaded, shaking like a leaf. “Harry, please.” His arms were out only a second before Draco’s knees buckled, catching him as he sank to the floor.

Harry sat him against the wall, then knelt in front of him, blocking him from view of anyone else. Draco only stared at him groggily, taking in half of what Harry said. The Gryffindor paced his hands lightly on Draco’s shoulders, talking to him softly. “You’re okay. He can’t touch you, you’re not going home… He’s not here, Draco… It’s okay. Just breathe. Breathe with me, okay?”

The blond nodded, shaking breathes stuttering as he tried to follow Harry’s inhales and exhales. For a few minutes they sat just like that, Draco slumped against the wall, eyes half-lidded from exhaustion, trying to get his breathing under control. Harry was a comforting presence, his gentle hands a reminder that he was safe now… and he needed to be present… needed to breathe.

Silver eyes bore into Harry’s, and he was focused solely on Draco, wishing he could take this pain from him. His white-blond hair was plastered to his face and he was unnaturally pale, even his lips had turned the same ghostly colour. The trembling lingered as he sat there—Harry could both see it and feel it beneath his fingers.

“Why does this keep happening to you, Draco?” Harry whispered.

“Anxiety symptom. Fear.” His breathing shuddered.

Harry rubbed his one arm. “It’s okay… you’re safe…”

Draco only shook his head, and Harry moved to the side of him as he put his head between his knees and curled in on himself. Harry just started to rub his back again, not really knowing what else to do. He glanced up from Draco as students start coming out of the Great Hall. Snape was directing them away from the pair as McGonagall started to make her way over. He glanced back to Draco, who still had his head buried.

McGonagall crouched in front of the pair and touched Draco’s knee gently. He flinched, pulling away from her. “Draco.”

“I couldn’t tell you.”

“I understand.”

“I—you what?” He raised his head slightly, resting his chin on his knees to look at her.

“I understand why you didn’t tell me. It doesn’t make it right, but I understand.”

He bit his lip, surely having an internal argument. Harry took this reprieve as a chance to look up. To find the others. Sure enough, Hermione, Ron, and Pansy were nearby, being held back by Snape as to not overwhelm Draco. Harry turned back to the pair beside him.

Draco spoke so quietly Harry first thought he’d imagined it. “What am I supposed to do, professor? He’s going to maim me…”

Professor McGonagall pursed her lips as she kept eye-contact, but was saved by Snape. He spoke from over her shoulder. “You won’t be going home. You will be staying here at Hogwarts until summer, at which time other arrangements will be made.” Draco nodded. “I thought you were doing better?”

The blond shook his head. “I’m not better… I had just learned how to make it seem like it. But even that’s crumbling now…” He looked down, seeming ashamed of himself. Snape frowns at him.

“Well, of course, the Ministry will be contacted again,” McGonagall said, turning to Snape.

Pansy knelt down beside McGonagall, passing Draco a goblet full of water. He took it, mumbling a thank you, and sipped at it as he watched the two adults in front of him. “I’m sorry for making a scene,” he said after a moment. “I didn’t mean for that to happen.”

“Don’t apologize,” said Snape.

“You didn’t know what was coming,” McGonagall added.

“Besides,” Harry interjected, and Draco turned is head to look at him. “Abuse is a terrifying thing. It messes with you in ways you aren’t even fully aware of, and your reactions and feeling about what’s going on are valid, even if you don’t think they are. No one here is blaming you.”

Draco smiled sadly, nodding at Harry. “Thanks…” Harry nodded back.

“Harry,” said McGonagall. “Could you please take Draco back to his dorm? He is excused from classes for today.”

“Of course, Professor.”

“Thank you,” Draco croaked. “But would you mind if I came to Gryffindor instead, Harry? I don’t really feel like facing my own house right now.”

McGonagall and Snape frowned, knowing exactly why this was his request. Harry only nodded. “Of course, Draco.”

*

Harry helped Draco through the halls to Gryffindor tower, carefully supporting half his weight. The other boy was simply exhausted from the attack he’d had, and Harry understood the feeling very well. They entered through the portrait hole and headed immediately upstairs to Harry’s dorm. Harry led him to the bed, where he slid onto it. Harry left momentarily, dragging a chair to the bedside.

Draco had turned onto his side, curled up and still shaking. Frowning, he lowered himself into the chair, then pulled out his charms and herbology textbooks to do some of his reading. He couldn’t focus though, his eyes kept flicking back and forth between the text and the blond who laid before him. Although he was much calmer than he’d been earlier, it was clear that he was still terrified, and feeling the after-effects of the attack. Harry reached out gingerly, laying his hand on Draco’s arm. He didn’t pull away from the touch, and Harry smiled, believing he found it comforting. Eventually, Draco fell asleep and his trembling subsided.

Between their next two classes, Ron marched up the stairs, opening the dorm door tentatively. Harry glanced over at him and motioned for him to come in. He was carrying a small paper bag, which he handed to Harry before he glanced over at the sleeping Slytherin.

“What’s this?”

“’Mione, Pansy, and I thought Draco should probably put something back in his stomach. Just something small.”

Harry smiled, looking over at Draco. “Thanks, Ron.”

“How long had your hand been there, Harry?”

“Huh?” Harry started, glancing between his hand and Ron. He retracted it as he answered. “Er… since we came up here, I guess.”

Ron grinned, nodding. “I’ll see you later? For dinner, if he’s feeling up to it.”

“Yeah. See you later, mate.”

For a few minutes Harry sat in silence, pondering what Ron had pointed out. Why, even after he’d fallen asleep, had he left his hand there? Why did he get flusteredabout it? And why did Ron smileabout it. Shaking his head at himself, he slid his books back into his bag. Then he leant forward, and shook Draco lightly. “Wake up, Ron brought you something to eat.”

Draco stirred, stretching out before rolling over to look at Harry. “Hmm?”

Harry couldn’t help the smile that tugged on his lips. “Ron brought you something to eat.”

“Oh.” He pushed himself up and sat against the wall. “What is it?”

“Dunno. It’s in this bag. It’s just something small, he said.”

“I’ll have to thank him later.” He tugged at the bag, opening it at the top and stuck his hand in. A blueberry muffin emerged and he set the bag away. “A muffin and an apple.”

Harry nodded. “Do you want to talk about what happened?”

He shook his head, picking at his muffin. “Not really. Not much to say. I got scared, freaked out, and made a fool of myself in front of everyone.”

“You didn’t make a fool out of yourself.”

“Harry, I ran out of the hall and yacked my guts out after everyone heard that howler. I guess it was supposed to come late last night… it wasn’t meant for everyone else to hear. It was threat.”

“I know. But he’s not gunna be able to get to you here.”

“I dunno… You may have met my Father, but you don’t know what he’s capable of. Especially with, well, You-Know-Who in the house.”

“In your house?”

Draco broke eye-contact, putting a tiny piece of his muffin in his mouth. “Yeah.”

“Merlin, Draco.” Harry studied him as he picked at his muffin, shuffling uncomfortably.

“I should’ve told you sooner.”

“It’s fine. I mean, I already knew he was a death eater. But living in your house… that can’t be helping your mental-health any. Or the abuse… I’m sure Voldemort wouldn’t hesitate to—”

“Can we please not talk about this right now?”

“Of course. Sorry.” Harry twiddled his thumbs, staring around the room. He looked back at Draco. The top of his muffin was barely gone. He frowned. “Say, why do you always pick at your food? You hardly eat anything.”

Silver eyes met his own. “Anxiety. It makes my appetite kinda funny. And, well you know that I feel sick when it gets bad, so that plays into it too, I guess.”

“Well, what d’ya say… you try and finish that muffin and then we’ll play a game of wizard’s chess?”

Draco’s lip quirked up. “Yeah. Yeah, okay.”

After finishing three-quarters of his muffin, Draco followed Harry downstairs. They lounged in the chairs by the fireplace, a board propped up between them. Of course, with much practice against Ron, Harry had improved—but not enough to get the upper hand on Draco, who’d spent most of his life learning the game.

“Checkmate,” Draco laughed a while later, smiling ear-to-ear and Harry’s king dropped its sword.

“Dammit,” he chortled. “I never win at this game. But you should definitely have a match with Ron! That’d be interesting.”

“Yeah, and you and Hermione can fight the consolation round.” Harry tossed a pillow his way, hitting him square in the chest with a loud, “OOF.”

“Come on,” said Harry, checking the time. “Let’s put this away and head down for dinner.” The smile instantly fell from Draco’s face, the pillow slipping through his fingers. “Only if you’re up for it. Otherwise I can grab some food for you and bring it up here, i-if you don’t feel like being around everyone.”

“No…” he hesitated. “No. I think I’ll be fine. Let’s go.”

As they stood, the portrait hole swung open. An influx of students from multiple years flooded in, heading straight for the stairs. Among them was Neville, Ron, Hermine, and Pansy. The latter stood awkwardly in the doorway, clutching her back and trying to hide the green on her robes, as if she felt like she was intruding.

“There you are,” called Neville, sauntering over towards the two. “Do you want to come eat with us? We are meeting Ginny and Luna downstairs, too.”

Harry looked to Draco, who nodded. “Yeah. Sounds great, Neville.”

The other boy grinned. “Great. I’ll be right back, just gunna throw my bag upstairs.”

“Me too,” called Hermione.

Ron ran after her. “Me three!”

Pansy watched them go, then sidled out of the doorway. She smiled at Harry and Draco as they made their way towards her, and she embraced her friend as they met. “Hi Dray… how are you feeling?”

“Better.”

“I’m glad. Harry took good care of you, I see.”

“I—”

“He—”

But they were both cut off by the three Gryffindors thundering back down the stairs. Ron pushed through the door, and they followed him out. Pansy winked at Harry, before turning her back and following Draco out.

Luna and Ginny sat halfway down the Gryffindor table, plates still empty. As the group slid into their places, the two girls looked up, laughter still evident on their faces.

“What’s so funny?” Hermione asked, picking a roll up off the platter in front of her.

Ginny shook her head, shoulders shaking. “Luna was just telling me a story about… a—"

“I had Defence Against the Dark Arts with Snape this afternoon, and I complimented his hair, and I never thought I’d see such a bizarre expression of his face!” Luna pulled a face.

Ron burst out laughing. “W-why’d you compliment his hair?”

Luna shrugged. “He seemed sad.”

“But he looks so greasy!” Ginny howled.

“Well it’s definitely not from too much shampoo,” quipped Hermione.

“More—more like n-none at all!” Tears were leaking out of Ron’s eyes. “T-tell me, Luna. What’d he say?”

“He told me he wouldn’t reveal his secrets.”

Harry almost did a spit-take as Neville said, “Oh my.”

“I bet you I could make him even more uncomfortable,” Pansy chortled.

“Pans,” said Draco. “You could do that with anyone.”

She shoved him sideways into Harry. “Hey!” Draco laughed as she glared at him.

“I mean, he’s not wrong,” Hermione said. “You do look a bit intimidating sometimes.”

“That’s not the same as discomfort!”

“I beg to differ,” said Luna.

The conversation carried on through most of dinner, and the group was mostly oblivious to the people around them. The teachers watched in a mix of amusement at their conversation (or disdain, for Snape), and concern for the blond boy among them. Other students stared at him, and many whispered behind his back. Some of them taunted him as they walked past. As their laughter came to a close near the end of dinner with the start of a new conversation, the taunts and jeers became more noticeable. Harry watches the boy beside him as he sits and takes what’s thrown at him. Whether it’s because he was taught to do that no matter what, because he was scared, or because he just didn’t want trouble, Harry couldn’t tell. Or maybe, he still thought he deserved it. Though he didn’t want to believe it, the way his heart clenched clued him in.

Behind them at the Slytherin table, Blaise stood and hexed another boy who was taunting Draco. “Keep it to yourself, ya stupid bugger!”

Draco smiled beside him, and Harry found a smile of his own spreading on his face.