For the next week, it was as if I were in hell. No matter how hard I tried to keep it together, sometimes I couldn't help punching Malfoy in his smart mouth. I've never had so many detentions in my years at Hogwarts, but I guess it was worth it since Malfoy had to accompany me. Nothing was getting done, we were behind on our assignments, and I'm pretty sure I was severely underweight due to Malfoy's refusal to have lunch or sometimes even dinner to study. How he manages to function I have no idea.
"I can't keep doing this shit," Malfoy complained as we entered our dorm, "It's been nearly a week and we're still bound by this stupid spell."
"I'm not happy about it either Malfoy but it's not like we've been doing much to take the curse away. We've been arguing non stop."
"Well this is ridiculous. Not arguing with you would be like ignoring primal instincts," Malfoy grumbled.
I accidentally let a laugh slip.
"The fuck is funny Scar head?" Malfoy shoved me, "If you weren't fucking dumb in the head we wouldn't be here. This is all your fault."
"Oi, as far as I know you were one tormenting me dipshit. If you hadn't been such a toss-pot, I'd still be skipping Muggle History classes and you'd still be top of potions," I retorted.
Malfoy went to retaliate, but stopped himself.
I considered something for a moment, and reluctantly made eye contact.
"Why don't you tell me something about yourself?"
"The fuck?" Malfoy spat.
"Well throw me of a cliff and call me a muggle if I know what else to do," I raised my hands up in surrender, "Snape said we needed to build trust, so as disturbing as it sounds, we need to try if we want to break the spell. Now, tell me something about yourself."
Hearing this, Malfoy tensed up, his expression turned guarded.
"I'm not telling you shit Potter," Malfoy snarled.
I shrugged, "ok then, looks like we're stuck together another day."
"Whatever, I don't have time for your shit," he walked towards the fire place and sat down with his books, "are you going to actually study this time?"
I thought long and hard about that one.
"Do it yourself."
I get ready for bed and went straight to sleep. I know, I know, I wasn't exactly doing much to help lift the spell either, but could you blame me? I had a choice of sleep, or studying with a self obsessed git. You bet your ass I chose sleep. Unfortunately, my peace was cut a little short.
When Voldemort attempted to posses me a month or so back at the Ministry of Magic, he didn't completely disappear from my mind. I only told everyone that he'd gone because I didn't want them to worry, not even Ron or Hermione were in on it. Everyone knows Voldemort is now aware that we have a connection, but what they don't know is he's realised he can disrupt my mind and body for short amounts of time. This would happen mostly when I'm sleeping, he would send me a flashback, or something to trigger my memories, which would turn into a full force panic attack. I've had anxiety most of my life, but something about these new episodes were something else. Fortunately, he hadn't done this for a while, but unfortunately the bastard struck again that night.
I was in a nice deep sleep, when all of a sudden I was thrown back to when I was living at the Dursleys. I was 10, and Dudley had just blamed another incident on me. Mr Dursley went bonkers. I hid in my closet under the stairs as I heard his yells and threats. I heard my heart beating in my chest as I held my breath, soot from hard footsteps littered the ground. Suddenly the door slammed opened, and he yanked me out. What happened next was too violent to describe, though I'm positive my screams could be heard from the next street down. All the while I heard the cold laughter of Voldemort in my ears, and my scar burned like hot metal. As Mr Dursley raised his fist once again, the dream changed in a flash of green light, and I watched Sirius disappear behind the vail yet again, his dead eyes piercing my soul as cackling filling my ears.
'I'm coming for you, Harry~'
I awoke with a start. Sweating and yelling about how Voldemort was going to kill me.
"Woah what the fuck-" Malfoy started, who was probably still sat on the carpet. I couldn't tell, I didn't have my glasses and I was too distressed to make anything out. It felt as if my throat was closing up and my hands begun shaking. I took a rattly breath and yelled out again. My ears began to ring, who was here? Where am I? Was Voldemort back? Mr Dursley was going to touch me. Bellatrix is going to hex me. Where's my wand? My mind swam with horrid thoughts.
I reached over to a blurry bed-side-table, grabbed what I thought was my wand, and pointed it at the blob I believed to be Mr Dursley. Wait no, it couldn't possibly be him, Mr Dursley wasn't skinny or nearly as ghostly as that blob. It must be Voldemort.
"STAY BACK VOLDEMORT OR I SWEAR-" I yelled, pointing my wand shakily at the blurred figure. Suddenly my wand was snatched away, and my glasses were put on my face. I yelled out something to do with Mr Dursley killing Sirius as I blinked away fog and took in my surroundings. The burred figure wasn't Voldemort, but Malfoy, looking absolutely horrified.
"Potter," he stammered, "What the fuck is wrong with you?"
I tried to speak, I tried to move, but I couldn't. I began hyperventilating, and my vision swam. My heart pounded in my ears and I felt sick to my stomach.
'No, no no no no no Malfoy cannot see this,' I thought through the many voices in my head, telling me I was dying, telling me Voldemort was close and Mr Dursley was going to punish me. I tired to stand, but I stumbled and tripped on my own feet. Malfoy managed to catch me before I fell on top of him, and sat me down on the bed again.
"I have no idea what the fuck is happening to you Potter," Malfoy spluttered, just as pale as I probably was, "There's no Dark Lord, and this Dursley guy isn't here either and- fuck Potter why are your eyes bloody red!?"
Oh shit.
I grabbed at my eyes. No no no, they can't do this, not now, not in front of Malfoy, what if he gets a teacher? My vision got worse and my lungs felt tighter.
Suddenly I could feel everything on my body. The way my clothes felt on every inch of my skin, my hair pricking my face, and the glasses resting on my nose. It was all too much. I took my spectacles off, ripped off my shirt, flung off my socks and tried to get my hair out my face, but failed because my hands were shaking so badly. I gasped for air.
"Woah," Malfoy stumbled, "Potter you're-"
I didn't hear what Malfoy had said but I don't think he needed an answer.
I clawed at my chest for air but I wasn't getting any, I was going to pass out any minute. I felt my stomach slosh with nausea and I gagged. Suddenly I felt cold hands on mine, stopping them from drawing more blood on my chest. To my surprise I realised they belonged to Malfoy.
"Fuck off Malfoy!" I manage to yell, trying to pry away from his grip.
"Potter," he lifted my head up and ordered, "You're safe for fucks sake. Calm down before I have to knock you out and just breathe."
His demands were spoken harshly, but worry made his voice wobble.
When I didn't calm down, he put my hand on his chest.
"Breathe with me dumbass," he encouraged, taking a deep breath, holding for a while, then breathing out. I wanted to protest and scream, but I couldn't think anymore, so I just followed his orders, not sure what else to do.
I don't know how long we were there for, but slowly I began to calm down. My breaths became steadier, my dizziness lessened, and my heart began slowing. I realised Malfoy had scooted closer to me, and was sat next to me on his side of the bed, my hand still on his chest. Maybe it was the delirium I was experiencing, but I didn't feel like shoving him away, calling him a prick or telling him where to go.
It was then I remembered I wasn't wearing my glasses, or my shirt. My face went bright red and I tried to move and retrieve my shirt, but Malfoy stopped me.
"Potter the fuck?" He asked, "we're dudes, we don't have tits."
I leant back on my pillow, and Malfoy decided to do the same.
"You're not freaking out anymore yea?" Malfoy asked.
I nodded in response, to which Malfoy pressed his hand on my chest and felt my fast heart beat.
"No you're not idiot, just breathe."
We accidentally made eye contact, and Malfoy pulled away huffing.
"Don't take this the wrong way Potter," he announced, "Just because I'm helping you out doesn't mean we are friends. I just don't want to put up with your stupid hyperventilation."
"Fuck off," I snapped, realising who I was talking to, "don't you ever mention this again."
I looked over at Malfoy, who seemed like he had a lot of questions. For a split second I saw worry in his eyes, but he quickly plastered a scowl across his face.
"You're fucking pathetic."
We fell asleep.
Author note.
Updated April 07/23
I read over this panic attack scene and decided to rewrite quite a bit of it. I wanted to go into a little more detail with Harry's episode to make the scene feel a little more raw, and hopefully you can picture it better
