Unmasked

Howler

A/N: Description of a panic attack. Take caution if this may be a trigger for you. 

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 puked 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 eye, 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 collar relentlessly. He heaved again, leaning over the bin. Then he gasped for air, shaking his head. "Over, Harry! I want it to be over!"