May 1999 - "I need you"
((Content warning: emotional breakdown))
((Promptspiration: @whumptober 2023: day 10: Stranded / "You said you'd never leave." ))
((This gets kinda fluffy by the end, and is pretty much about recovery.))
Genre: hurt / comfort
Romance level: moderate
Angst level: 2/5
Draco's headspace: inconsolable
((words: ~2800))
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It was Saturday. Theo was methodically reviewing potions with a loose study circle of most of the other seventh-years who had the class, keeping one ear on Granger's half-frantic muttering because, all else aside, let it never be said she wasn't excellent at studying. It was just over a month until their exams started, and she already felt like she was falling behind, a sentiment he didn't share, but she wouldn't miss a detail.
It took him by surprise when his pocket got warm. He still carried around the enchanted paper he and Draco used to write back and forth while he was at Hogwarts, but Draco had fallen out of using it except to answer him. He hadn't initiated conversation in… it had to be since before Easter break, so at least a month.
The last thing written on the paper, in a loose, sloppy version of Draco's handwriting, was 'I need you.'
Theo immediately tuned out the other students and used the special quill that went with the paper to write back. 'Anything. What do you need?'
But Draco didn't answer. He tried for almost twenty minutes, writing until Draco's entry was pushed almost off the top of the page, then made a decision — he had to go. If Draco needed him and couldn't tell him why, he had to find out. He swept all of his things together into his bag and left the library without a word to anyone else.
He kept the paper close inside his pocket in case Draco wrote back, though.
He elected not to waste time going to the dungeons to get rid of his stuff; he'd just get out past the gates and Disapparate… That was what was going through his mind when he turned a corner and ran into Slughorn. Literally.
He bounced back and nearly fell, fumbling his bag, though Slughorn was unmoved. "Careful there. We're certainly in a hurry to study, aren't we?"
"I've got to go," Theo said, gathering his bag again. "It's an emergency."
"Well, you've just passed the toilets," Slughorn chortled, amusing himself. Theo gave him an irritated look, and the man read the mood. "You mean leave the school?" he inquired genially.
"Yes, I have to go home. I'll be back as soon as possible, I'll do detention or whatever you want, but I've got to go."
"Now, there's no sense in detention as a fine for misbehaviour if it's not going to be a deterrent. I can't authorise you to leave—"
He was pretty sure he could have found a way for someone who had something to offer him, Theo thought irritably. "Fine, but I'm still going."
Slughorn raised his hand. "Don't rush. I was going to say there's no need for you to run off and break school rules when we can explain the situation. Don't be so quick to buck the system when you can use it."
Was that supposed to be life advice? He'd be a lot more impressed with anything he had to teach if this wasn't a professor who all but ignored his existence for two years because of his last name, and literally ignored Draco for all of last term to the point where he didn't even report that he stopped attending classes…
Slughorn put a hand on his back and didn't let him escape; they made their way over to the west tower and the Headmistress's office, Theo chafing every step for the wasted time, clutching the paper in his pocket and willing it to get warm.
"Cover your ears now," Slughorn chided Theo almost playfully as they approached the gargoyle guarding the stairs. "Abyssinian." The gargoyle jumped out of the way and let them onto the moving staircase.
"Minerva." Slughorn didn't really check to see if she was available before speaking, which made her look a little bit annoyed already as she looked up from whatever was laid out on her desk. "Young Mister Nott here would like to speak with you about a weekend pass to go home."
"This weekend?" she pointed out sharply. "You are aware that the memorial of the battle will be held tomorrow. Missing it is out of the question."
"I don't care about a weekend pass, I'm just telling you I'm leaving," he said tightly. "I have got to go, it's an emergency, and I'd be gone already if I didn't run into him." He jerked his head at Slughorn.
"Mister Nott," she said sternly. "I am aware of your… home situation. If there is an emergency with your sister or her children, I'm sure that—"
He clenched his hands into tight fists. "It's not about that at all. I'm not a kid; I've got responsibilities that are frankly a lot more important than these exams." She didn't look particularly impressed at that assessment. "I've been helping look after someone who's sick, and they just messaged me for help, and I've got to go."
"Calm down. Consider the situation. They have time to owl you, but no one else could have helped by now?" she said reasonably, the epitome of pragmatic rationality.
"It's not like that!" He yanked out the paper and slapped it on her desk. "That's called an Owlless, it's in real time, and he called for help almost half an hour ago." And he was trapped here, because these people wouldn't let him go without kissing the ring of their paperwork — it was fully within his power to get to Draco and he was being held back by rules. Oh how he hated society.
Slughorn sidled up to the desk, peering over her arm at it. "Now, that's an interesting bit of workmanship, isn't it?"
McGonagall skimmed the paper, parsing how it worked. Then her lips pressed into such a flat line they disappeared. "Malfoy."
"He's my friend," he said defiantly. "And he's sick, really sick, because Voldemort cursed him. He could be dying right now because you're not letting me go see what's wrong! Maybe you don't care," he added acidly. That's right, did she think he'd forgotten her sending Draco to detention last year, knowing exactly what that meant? Even if he antagonised her for half the year, she should have been better. Yeah, he wasn't impressed with any of their nobility, no matter how society decided they were the heroes.
"Mister Nott," she warned. He was unapologetic but didn't push it. She skimmed the note again, then folded it and handed it back. "Be back before classes on Monday, and if you miss the memorial tomorrow I shall expect an essay on the impact of the battle." She nodded toward the fireplace. "You can floo from here."
"Thank you," he forced himself to say, because society demanded it, took back his Owlless before Slughorn could make it disappear, and almost ran to the fireplace. The floo powder box opened itself as he approached, he took a pinch, and called "Malfoy Manor!" as he stepped into the flames.
The world spun, showing him flashes of kitchens and lobbies across the country, and then he stepped out in the Malfoy drawing room. "Draco!" he immediately yelled, throwing his bag down. A scan of the room showed it was empty and he ran out, calling for him. "Draco! Draco, I'm here, tell me where you are!"
Parlour, window seat, both empty. He called for Draco again and ran back to the stairs, focused on the library at the top. Or maybe his bedroom… or that second-floor window…
He heard a squeak from below him. "Mister Nott!" The house elf was quavering beside a closed door in the hall going back past the staircase, and when she saw him looking she pointed at it urgently. "Master Draco is here, sir!"
Theo jumped the last two steps to get back down, and when he was back on the ground he oriented himself and realised that was Draco's mother's room — tacitly off limits unless she was entertaining. "Is she here?" If she was, if Draco was with her, then he wasn't needed and she'd probably consider him intruding… unless Draco called him even though he had her…?
But the house elf shook her head vigorously, ears flapping. "Mistress isn't home, only Master Draco! Please help…" She wrung her bony hands.
He didn't have to be asked again. He opened the door and looked around frantically. "Draco?"
Draco was in a chair isolated in the corner away from the rest of the seating, with one foot drawn up in the chair to hide behind his knee, holding his head in both hands, sobbing.
He came to him and pulled down his leg. "It's okay, I'm here." He tried to pull his hands away so he could see him. He touched his heart monitor on the way to see if he was having a bad spell, but his pulse looked okay, and that was a relief. "Are you okay? Tell me what's wrong."
"Nothing… Everything!" He bent over double and sobbed into his knees.
"It's okay…" Theo hugged him and rubbed his back, looking around. Nothing actually looked obviously wrong, and he seemed to be okay, physically. He didn't think he was panicking, he wasn't sick, so…
"Master Draco can't stop crying," the house elf said in a small voice, and he looked back at her. She was pulling down her ears. "For hours, if it goes away it comes back."
He looked around again, running his fingers through Draco's hair. Next to his seat, there was tea and chocolate, showing how the house elf had tried to help, and an empty potion; he sniffed the potion bottle and identified a Calming Draught, which had either not helped or worn off, and touching the remains of the tea found it cold. There were nibbles taken out of the chocolate.
Draco had actually tried, he realised. Really tried. He hadn't pushed it down or ignored it, or hidden where no one could find him to try to cover it up. He'd done everything he could think of to make himself feel better. He'd taken the potion, he'd taken the chocolate even though he didn't like to eat, he'd moved to his mother's room where he felt safe for comfort, and when he realised it wasn't getting better, he called for help — for the first time in years. It felt huge.
He sat down on his knees and kissed the top of Draco's head, rubbing his back again. "You're okay." He wished he knew what to do to actually help him, but maybe just being there would be something. "Everything's okay. There's nothing wrong… There's nothing wrong with crying if you need to."
"I can't…"
"That's okay."
He couldn't tell what Draco meant, what he felt he 'couldn't', but maybe it wasn't meant to be anything specific. He was starting to think there wasn't anything specific or rational behind the crying, he was just overwhelmed. Maybe?
Maybe that really was what it was. Since Easter — actually, probably longer, he'd been pulling away since March — he'd been so cold and withdrawn, tightly controlling himself and trying to force his mind and emotions to do what they were supposed to. He'd spent most of Easter break in that damn drawing specifically because bad things happened there and he wanted to prove they didn't have power, instead of giving himself a break and just getting out of here for a little while. Maybe he'd pushed it all down for too long and it just cracked.
He rested his head against Draco's, rubbing his back, just patiently waiting to see if it helped. "Thanks for calling me," he said, voice light and casual. "I was getting really tired of thinking about N.E.W.T.s. It's nice to have a break."
Draco didn't respond to the joking like he hoped, but at least it didn't seem to hurt him. "You said you'd never leave…" he admitted, breath hitching. But at least it was a coherent sentence, so improvement. "I hoped it was true…"
That made him all warm, and he hugged Draco tightly. "Of course. I'll always come if you need help. Or if you call me for any other reason. And probably if you just think it really hard."
Draco's crying did ease up; maybe the tears didn't entirely stop, but he stopped shaking. "Do you feel better, or are you just tired?" Theo wondered, running his hand over his hair. It seemed like it would be physically exhausting to keep crying for ages, not that he'd really know. Draco just shrugged without lifting his face out of his arms, but that was okay.
A little while later, Theo was reminded that the house elf was still around when she spoke up. "Mistress is home," she warned, then disappeared.
"Is this going to be okay?" Theo shifted and tapped his feet together to wake his legs up in case they had to move quickly.
"Yes," Draco said, still without lifting his head.
Narcissa entered the room in another moment. Theo would be hard pressed to say he had ever really seen her show an emotion other than vague disgust, which at least she wasn't showing now, but that meant as far as he could see it was just nothing; he was sure Draco would have told him he was wrong and exactly what she was feeling, but since Theo didn't share whatever weird telepathy allowed Draco and his mother to never have to speak to each other, he was left having to guess. He guessed she was annoyed he was intruding.
He made a report promptly without getting up, staying there in front of Draco with his arm around him. "He called me for help. His heart's okay, though. He's not panicking or anything. It's just some crying." He had an instinct, based on no evidence, that keeping things calm and casual would be good for Draco, so he didn't make a big deal about it. He assumed the house elf had filled her in.
"I see." He couldn't tell much, except maybe he'd been wrong about her being annoyed. There wasn't any sharpness in her voice, anyway. "I'll relieve it," she said, drawing her wand out of her sleeve.
"Wait." Theo stood up quickly on his knees between them and held up his hand. "Maybe that's not the best move. He's already had a Calming Draught and it, what, it all came right back as soon as it wore off, right?" Draco nodded silently into his arms. Theo ran his hand over his hair without thinking about it and looked back up at his mother. "I think maybe he's been suppressing everything for too long, during some really hard times, and now today it just cracked for some reason and had to come out."
"It's the anniversary of the battle," she said.
"Oh, shit, that's right." Not that he hadn't known that, obviously, just hadn't made any connection. But Draco would have been hearing about it from the Prophet, the wireless, any post he got, maybe even his mother — of course that was going to be hard, if it was hard to think about. Draco'd never told him much about the battle, which he was beginning, after Easter, to think probably meant it was a pretty bad memory. He rubbed Draco's back. "Either way, suppressing it's just going to make the same thing happen again. Maybe, just let him feel it?"
She considered, and her eyes moved from him. "Draco?"
Draco was still quiet for a bit. "Maybe he's right," he said after a moment. He took a deep breath and pushed himself up, his head and arms off his knees, and wiped his face with both hands. There were still tears leaking out afterward, but nothing like the sobbing when Theo'd first arrived. He didn't actually look at either of them, probably embarrassed. "I don't know," he said. "I don't know what happened. It was just out of control. Maybe he's right." He wiped his eyes again.
"All right." She slipped her wand back into her sleeve and touched Draco's head lightly, then went back to a different couch. To Theo, that seemed really indifferent, but Draco must have gotten something else from it; he distantly ran his hand through his hair where she'd touched it, then wiped his eyes again and pulled his legs up into the chair, curling up in the corner. He silently dropped his hand down to hold Theo's, so Theo took that as saying he shouldn't go anywhere, and he sat down in front of Draco's chair, rubbing his hand lightly. If Draco's mother noticed, she pretended not to.