Favoring The Brave {Drarry}

~ v ~

tw: for harrys kinda panic attack

Harry is on his hands and knees trying to stuck in enough air to finally fucking breathe when Val finds her way to their room. Draco is sat on the bed with a worried crease between his brow, but he's not making any move to get up and help him.

"What did you do to him!?" Val screeches trying to rush over and steady Harry, to remind him how to breathe.

"Don't get too close! Give him space," Draco says as she rushes forward, but it's no use. She ignores him and is thrown backwards from the sheer force of Harry's wild magic. The blond throws out a cushioning charm to lighten her fall but she still rounds on him, her nails a bloody red in the light from the chandelier.

"What," she starts sternly, "did you do to him?"

She thinks this may be enough. This is what could make her hate him.

"What did I—?" Draco scoffs. "I haven't done anything. He was like that when I got back."

"So what? You just left him like that?" She's loud and angry and in his face and Draco has to take his own share of deep breaths.

His voice is devoid of emotion when he speaks, almost passive. He feels like he's back at home with his parents trying to prove that he could bring a nice witch home and start a family. Go into a job in the ministry like father. Restrained.

"He has to calm down himself."

"What the hell are you talking about?"

"Oh, is there finally something about him that only I know? Should I feel as though I've won something?" He rolls his eyes at her angry look. He supposes if it were about anything or anyone else he'd be scared of her, but this is about Harry and even being away for years he still knows, without a doubt, that no one knows the messy haired git better than he does.

"I don't know what you're going on about, but you're going to fix him," Val demands an angry gleam in her eye.

"Can't," he says simply.

"You can't or you won't?"

"Whichever one you want to believe, I suppose. Either way, it's not happening."

"You complete fucking arsehole! You get up and you fix him right now!"

Draco finally stands from the bed. His long legs unfolding from under him much more gracefully than the situation called for but it's all his body really knows. Poise and posture was just as strict on the emotions as the body. He's standing over her by a few inches at most, but his regal stance makes him seen even taller.

"I won't," he says as plain as day. "And I dont quite like being ordered around. I've had enough of that to last lifetimes."

"I— I don't care what you've had enough of! You fix him!"

"I can't!" he yells, finally breaking. His voice cracks along with the rest of him and he slinks back over and sits on the bed, watching as Harry writhes and turns and screams in silence down on the floor. He's torn his clothes and his chest is heaving but he's still in the midst of it. Still fighting a war that's been over for almost 15 years.

"W-what do you mean: you can't?"

He looks so broken, so dejected. The will to hate him leaves almost ss quickly as it's come and she wants to hate him for that too.

"Exactly what I said. I can't. Never could. It's like a nightmare, but he's awake. Reliving the end of the war...all the worst parts. His magic traps him. Locks him in." He shakes his head and tugs at a loose bit of his own hair. "I can't reach him until it's over. Just have to wait."