The Thunder in My Heart

The Trigger

Of course, he recognised it for what it was as soon as Harry's hands started to shake and the colour drained from his face. He knew and cursed himself for procrastinating about his trust issues and not talking to Hermione immediately about the warning signs that he thought he saw. And he cursed himself for letting Harry start to rake up the past over the last thirty-six hours when he was barely suppressing anxieties which were itching beneath the surface.

Draco understood full well that in such a fragile state it doesn't take much to trigger a breakdown.

His own had happened over the most insignificant occurrence. The milk in his fridge had gone off and he'd just made himself a cup of tea. His muggle flat was even above a bloody newsagent's which also sold some of the basics, all he had to do was walk down two flights of stairs, do an about turn through the neighbouring door and pick up a new pint. He'd got as far as putting on his shoes and stuffing his wallet in his back pocket when he slid to the floor, unable to even pick up his door-keys. He cried for twenty minutes straight, uncertain why, but with the comprehensive understanding that he couldn't leave his flat.

He started drinking black tea.

And getting pizzas delivered.

When he missed his next Mind Healing session, his therapist came knocking. Thankfully she cared enough despite him being an ex-Death-eater and all. They worked together on exposure treatment, incrementally building the evidence that he could leave his flat and remain safe. Often it centred around making the short journey to the newsagent's downstairs for some essentials or to the tattoo parlour further down the street so he could get his inking finished. Gradually, they made it to the park and would sit by the duck pond in the sunshine eating icecreams together. It took nearly three months from the day of the first attack for him to be able to make any sort of full excursion alone. The day he went to the muggle Science Museum in Kensington by himself, on the tube, was the day he took his Mind Healer a bottle of very, very expensive wine to say thank you.

And then the journey to the Hogwarts Express nearly triggered him all over again. He wore his mask well and, in the end, it was Harry sitting next to him and taking his arm to study his tattoo which finally calmed him, which finally convinced him there was no need to fear an attack and that he was safe. Deep down he knew the reason was behind that safety that he'd kept questioning when it came to being with Harry; for so long there had been the underlying tension between them both and, despite Harry coming to the manor to thank him and Narcissa, he now understood, as of the moment on the train, that attack would never come from that quarter. No, Harry offered protection and that journey together on the Hogwarts Express, for Draco, wiped away seven years of antagonistic history and that was an incredible relief for him. And that moment had been so significant that he'd not felt a flutter of anxiety since.

For Harry, he knew the trigger was more momentous than his own lumpy soured milk: the casual mention of a connection to three people Harry'd lost due to Voldemort, probably the three most important male figures in his life, plus a throwaway reference to the man who'd betrayed them and nearly got Harry killed in the Riddle graveyard was enough to unleash a maelstrom of emotions which sent him spiralling out of control. The sheer unforgiving chaos of it made Draco blanch but this wasn't about him now, it was about Harry. So, he simply remained kneeling on the floor in front of him and held onto the man sitting on the edge of the bed and curled up into Draco's shoulder, his nose pressed into Draco's neck as he grasped Draco's fingers in a bone-crushing grip. The fingertips of Draco's free hand kept drifting into the longer locks of his ludicrously soft raven-black hair as Draco whispered numbers and anything else he could think of into the man's ear while they waited for Hermione to return with Madame Pomfrey.

He didn't think Hermione was being quick enough.

At least Harry's breathing had started to calm a bit now.