Lightning and Thunder
Apr. 2nd, 2017 12:15 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
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Pairing: Harry Potter/Draco Malfoy
Rating: PG-13
Word Count: 100x6
Written For:
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Warnings: PTSD, panic attack
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Summary: Draco suddenly felt like he couldn’t breathe or move.
Notes: *wraps Draco in a blanket*
Other Links: LJ/AO3
Draco was waiting for Harry in Hogsmeade.
There was this silent agreement between the two whereby meeting at The Three Broomstick for a pint was the perfect treat after a stressful week of work – Draco at the Ministry as an Unspeakable and Harry at Hogwarts as the DADA professor.
There was also this kind of competition over which one of the two could arrive to the place first.
Sometimes, Draco would bring Blaise and Pansy or Harry would invite Neville and Hannah, along with a bunch of Weasleys. Most of the time, it was a HarryandDraco moment.
Opposite Draco, Honeydukes’ showcases shined in the late afternoon darkness. Their sweets could’ve attracted the interest of any kid or adult, and Draco would’ve fancied a quick stop to buy four or five Choco Balls…
He suddenly heard thunder.
Seconds after, copious rain started to fall first on his robes, then on his styled hair and face, making him impossibly soggy in less than no time.
The people of the village had been as surprised as Draco by the rainstorm, and they started to run everywhere, opening and closing shops’ doors, mums calling for their children, old wizards quickly picking up the goods displayed on the street.
Draco suddenly felt like he couldn’t breathe or move.
The now crowded street made him unable to process anything other than the rain running down his face, entering his mouth, making him choke.
He didn’t even bother casting a Warming Charm: his mind was already too fuzzy, actions and words difficult to process.
People around him were moving too fast, touching him when he didn’t want to be touched, breathing the air he so desperately needed.
He felt like someone had forced the most dangerous potion in existence down his throat, the only purpose to make him a puddle of bones and flesh and nothing else.
Or, worse, he felt like someone had cast Avada Kedavra on him. He felt like dying.
He’d tried to learn, but he’d failed. Haunted by his errors, his weaknesses, he would always be a victim of the unknown, always too foolish. It was impossible for him to make the right decision.
The terrible pain would’ve never stopped haunting him, making him fragile, feeble in a way he so desperately wanted to get rid of, but incapable to do so.
Everything seemed too big, too heavy to be avoided. Poised between consciousness and sleep, he could just wait for the time to come.
And he did come.
A gentle hand squeezed his bicep and a warm body pressed against his back.
“Breath,” a voice ordered.
Harry.
Draco did, and the world, temporarily turned black, was now back to him in full colour.
It was still pouring.
Harry moved in front of his face, never loosening the grip on his body, a stupendous smile on his face.
“Breath again, Draco,” Harry said, and Draco followed his lead, filling his lungs with musky air, and clearing his foggy mind. He felt like he'd been hit by the most powerful Stupefy.
“It’s not the Battle. You’re safe with me. Okay?”
Draco looked into Harry’s green eyes and nodded, before a kiss landed against his cold and shaky lips.
Another one followed, deeper and more meaningful. Draco’s breath was unsteady again, but now for a good cause.
After a little while, “C’mon,” Harry exclaimed, taking both Draco’s hand in one of his. “Follow me and try not to get lost like a kid.”
Draco made an affirmative nod. “No need to be witty,” he whispered, half smiling already.
How could Harry always make him happy even in the darkest of his moments was the strangest of mysteries.