Please Be There If I Remember

Chapter Forty-Nine: Interventions

As much as Draco wished that finally having a good cry into his pillow would be able to push out all the stress gathering like a swirling storm of grey clouds in his body, it only made him feel things more. The mask that he had created for himself, one that held all the stress and panic inside, had cracked, and now it was starting to show on his face more—which was honestly worse.

Not to mention Umbridge.

Draco had, in all the sense of the word, fucked up. Royally so. He had truly, definitely screwed himself over with that one.

Walking out of Umbridge's office? Inexcusable. He was shocked he was still breathing. Not breathing very well, mind—panic attacks really were slowly but surely becoming the bane of Draco's existence, but at least his father (or, horror of horrors, Umbridge herself) hadn't walked up to him and murdered him for going so blatantly against the rules, which was a definite plus in his book.

Or maybe he had spoken too soon.

"A word, Mr. Malfoy?" Umbridge seethed down his neck.

Yes, Draco had definitely spoken too soon.

"Of course, Headmistress. Right now?"

They were in the middle of Defence class, something that Draco had contemplated skipping in abject terror of what might happen when Umbridge saw him after that debacle he had pulled yesterday, and every single person's quill in the room stopped as they listened. All except for Hermione, who was so focused on writing her essay that even a bomb going off wouldn't have shaken her out of it.

"Yes. Outside. Now."

Draco scrambled to put his ink-dripping quill away, just saving his half-arsed written essay from gaining a large black splotch. Not that it mattered anyway.

Eyes trailed his back as he followed her out of the classroom and into the sparsely-light hallway on the third floor, Blaise looking as if he was contemplating going with him, rules be damned, Harry in a much similar boat.

"Follow me."

And Draco did, wishing that he had at least nodded to Harry on his way out.

As they walked, Umbridge practically simmering with rage, Draco trailed behind her, hands clasped tightly together behind his back to not even give them a chance to shake lest she saw. His palms grew sweaty with the combined heat, and it felt like he had just dipped his hands over a fire with the way the sweat was leaking out of his pores.

Don't panic. Don't freak out.

Oh, Draco was freaking out, all right. He didn't even know he knew that many curse words.

Umbridge halted in her tracks in the middle of the hallway. Turning her head, she started to stare at him, an unfathomable look in her eye.

"Enough with the pleasantries, Mr. Malfoy. You are here for one reason, and one reason only. Do you know what that is?"

Draco kept his face locked and shuttered in a neutral position. "I disobeyed you," he answered plainly.

"Yes. You did. And do you know what the consequences of that are?"

Draco gulped, thinking back to the feeling of the knife-like scrape along his unmarred skin. "I can take a guess."

"Good," Umbridge smiled. "My office tonight. Detention."

Then she led them back to the Defence classroom, chin high and heels clicking, opening the door and leaving it half-shutting on Draco's face before he caught it and let himself in. He made it to his desk in a bit of a daze, unconsciously taking out his quill again and resting it on the mostly-blank sheet of parchment, ignoring the stares.