Coping Mechanisms

4. Draco

Even in his sleep, Draco knew something felt wrong. Screams pierced his ears, screams he recognized but couldn't quite place in his hazy slumber. He wasn't sure when he'd dozed off, but a warm grip on his shoulder pulled him from his dreams like an anchor being pulled from watery depths. Waking was like its immediate breach of the surface, and consciousness crashed into him in one sudden wave. The screams were clearer now, and his eyes shot open. A brightly lit wand hovered in front of his face, and it took his eyes a few seconds to adjust.

"Malfoy!" someone shouted at his ear, and Draco fully absorbed the presence beside him, and the hand still on his shoulder. They repeated his name with urgency, and Draco finally recognized the timbre of Neville's voice. He turned his focus to the boys mouth, now closed, and wondered why the screaming still continued. Realization struck him like a knife to the gut, and his eyes flew to the convulsing figure in the bed before him.

"Mother," he breathed, shooting up from his chair to grasp Narcissa's trembling arm. Her eyes were clenched shut, and the screams were torturous to his ears. Her muscles spasmed against his fingers, the whole bed shaking beneath her.

"What's happening to her?" Draco bellowed, looking to Neville for answers.

"I'm not sure. Her body's under a lot of pressure." Neville's grip was still tight on Draco's arm, as if he thought Draco would fall apart if he let go.

Maybe he would.

"We need a healer," Draco panicked, his voice way too loud, "Or a sleeping draught."

"A sleeping draught won't do any good," Neville said, steadying him. "The muscle contractions are too violent. A sleeping draught will only knock her out, but the spasms will continue when it wears off. She needs a calming draught, and to ride this out." Neville's words barely registered as Narcissa continued to scream.

"Malfoy, listen to me, put your hand under her neck and raise her chin," Draco felt the cold absence on his shoulder as Neville released him. He heard the boy whisper a quick lumos maxima, the bright light hovering above his mother's bed as Neville scrambled across the room to a medicine cart. Draco's own hands were shaking as he gently slipped his fingers under his mother's stiff neck.

"It's okay, we're here, it's okay," Draco rambled, struggling to breathe.

Neville quickly returned with a vial of blue liquid, promptly removing the stopper.

"Hold her just like that," Neville's words with calm, and Draco met his eyes from across the bed. "You'll need to put your hand over her mouth once I'm done, so she doesn't just spit it back out. She needs to swallow this. The screaming should stop soon after, but it won't fully stop the tremors." Draco's mouth hardened into a thin line, but Neville's eyes shone with honest determination.

"I won't hurt your mother, Draco," Neville said. "I promise." Draco released a shaky breath, and nodded, his eyes returning to his mother's face. Neville pressed the vial forward, forcing the liquid to her lips between screams. As soon as the glass was empty, Draco placed his free hand carefully over her mouth. Her eyes shot open and met his. He looked for any signs of recognition, but he could find nothing but panic and pain.

"It's okay," Draco repeated, his own eyes burning. "It's okay." Narcissa continued to whimper and shake, but he saw the muscles of her throat tighten and immediately relax. A tear slipped down her pallid skin, and Draco removed the hand from her mouth to wipe it away. Her body quivered under the sheets, but Draco was relieved as her cries stopped.

"Just stay with her," Neville ordered. "It's late, but I'm sure there's a healer somewhere. I'll be back as soon as I can." Neville must have seen the panic on Draco's face, so he continued. "She'll be fine now. Trust me." Neville's words were certain, and it struck Draco that he was speaking from experience. He glanced to the other end of the room, Alice's unmoving silhouette still tucked away in the dimly lit corner.