Blinded by the Walls | Dramione

A While

This wasn't the start of her 'two days' she had hoped for. They lay in silence for almost an hour without talking to each other. She wanted to initiate a conversation with him but felt scared. She was scared to delve into her care-worry-free weekend. She felt like she wouldn't be able to control herself and actually enjoy being carefree. She was scared of being happy and in peace.

When had she come to such a low point?

Why was she scared of being happy? It made no sense...

Maybe she didn't know what true happiness was anymore because the war had emptied and blocked the flow of serotonin in her mind. Maybe being in constant stress and sorrow led her to be in this place.

How could one even restore their serotonin levels? She could take some muggle pills but was too stubborn to do so. She didn't want to depend on a pill. She would rather fix it herself. Then she felt like she couldn't get credit for healing herself, it would have been the result of a partnership, but she didn't want that. Also, it would mean that she would be doing well as long as she took her meds. What if she ran out? Would she went back to her old self by skipping her meds?

She didn't want to take the risk but didn't know what would happen if this lack of serotonin went on for longer. How long could she function without it?

Or maybe she would just need to allow herself two days every month to recharge her serotonin levels and use her storage wisely.

But what if all of her planning was useless, and the two-day approach wouldn't work in the first place?

What would she do then?

She couldn't feel her serotonin levels hanging onto a last thread that they might let go of any time now.

Suddenly, she was hit by a wave of panic. She felt her chest compress, her heart pounding uncontrollably, and her breath shortening. It felt like her lungs had given up on her and wouldn't let air enter them. She felt so anxious and worried, and her mind was going insane with all her worries, and she could feel her serotonin levels finally let go of the thread.

All hope was lost.

Her hands shook uncontrollably, and little black dots started clouding her vision.

Her shaking caught his eyes. Noticing her distress, he rushed to her side, his eyes filled with concern.

She blinked slowly. Her vision had completely blurred before a flash of striking blonde hair appeared, sending a sudden jolt through her eyes, and she slowly started gaining her vision back.

The sight in front of his eyes was painfully familiar to him. He knew exactly what she was going through. He had experienced from a young age what a panic attack looked like from his mother since he would always be the one at her side, panting in fear, praying for her not to die in his arms while he tried to calm her down.

Then the same started happening to him in his sixth year, but the only difference was they couldn't reverse the roles with her being tortured at the Manor, so he had to go through them alone, with no one by his side—almost every night.

He still experienced anxiety attacks every now and then, but he had mastered controlling them. It was one of those things he didn't feel proud of mastering, along with others, like pushing people away.

He was excellent at that.

The master of masters.

Every time he would manage to calm his mother down, he would find himself collapsing from the amount of stress that would mount on him. It wasn't easy when it happened to the person he loved the most—especially considering how often it would occur. While he prayed for her not to leave him, he would also try to savor what could also be his last moments with her. Trying to lock every single thing about her appearance, her hair, the warming scent of her perfume, how her hand felt against his. It was all too much for him, especially when he was as little as five, and he felt the same anxiety dawn on him while he tried to calm the brunette before his eyes.