Draco Malfoy, Broken

Chapter 11 - Appealing for an Appeal

Draco slowly sat up on his bed. Memories of last night stung painfully. Today might break him. Talking about anything that had happened to him... was unthinkable. Potter was exhorting him to say it. But last night... those were his darkest memories. He'd done all he could to bury them in his mind using all the Occulmeny he knew, but they had finally broken through. Probably because of all the times Potter had touched him. He lowered his eyes. It wasn't Potter's fault, no. The comfort he gave was the only thing that brought him back... both at Azkaban and after the nightmare.

He looked at his shaking hands, still racked with tremors from Vance's spells. The last time it had been this bad was when Potter and the others escaped Malfoy Manor. Voldemort tortured them for days. He was allowed to leave a few weeks later to return to school, but his mom was still there. He had hated leaving her with him, but he had little choice.

The door creaked open, and he could make out Potter's silhouette from the light in the hall. "You're up. You want some breakfast?"

He just stared at him, trying to remember how to use his voice.

"Draco?" Potter said, stepping into the room and looking at him, intently.

But he looked around, frustrated by his inability to speak. His eyes welled with tears and he started wheezing unable to break. Potter noticed and started coming toward him. Draco pressed away, wanting no part of physical contact. Thankfully, Potter stopped, and gave him a pitying look. Draco clenched his jaw, annoyed, his panic attack wasn't getting under control.

"I'm here, if you need me, Malfoy," Potter said, holding out his hand.

The gesture was not lost on him. He could handle it if he initiated it. It was the sudden and unwanted contact that sent him spiraling into his memories. He took Potter's hand into his grip. He took a deep breath and then another. Getting control of his breathing was the hardest thing, but once he did it, he could reign in his anxiety. Breath after breath, he slowly brought his heart rate down and beat down the urge to curl up into a ball. He squeezed his guardian's hand hard.

"Better?" Potter said, ignoring the pain.

Draco nodded, but Potter wouldn't release his hand, now. He was going to have to speak.

"Yes... thank you," he mumbled and Potter let him wiggle his hand free.

"Breakfast?"

Draco again nodded.

"Do you want breakfast?" Potter said, firmer.

Draco's eyes flicked up to bright green eyes of the Savior, narrowing. He was going to make him say it. "Yes."

"Good. Come on then. Do you want me to Apparate you down the stairs?"

He shook his head.

"Malfoy..." Potter chided.

"No! Damnit," he grunted, flustered.

"Okay," he smirked. He stood quietly as Draco got up.

Still wobbly, but Draco was able to get to his feet and follow him down the stairs. He took the same seat as the night before. He watched Potter pull out food from the icebox and crack eggs into a bowl, whisking them. He put some breakfast meat frying in one pan on the gas range and then turning another burner on. He watched, mildly fascinated. He again wondered why Potter didn't just use his wand. He was cooking like a... muggle.

Potter put some bread in a silver rectangle contraption and pushed down a lever on the front. It ate the bread. Strange, Draco thought. Potter dropped some butter into the empty pan and then dumped the egg mixture in. It sizzled and within minutes, he turned off the stove. Then rectangle box spit out toast, making Draco jump and Potter smirk. Potter buttered the toast and put two plates on the table with eggs, meat and toast.