"Fix your course on a star, and you'll navigate any storm."

He locked the stall door and pressed his back against it as his breathing sped up more. He attempted to calm himself down. It didn't work well.

"Harry?"

He tried to hold his breath and pretend he wasn't there, but that definitely wouldn't work. Already his chest was starting to tighten, his thoughts were become irrational and horrific, his hands were shaking.

He heard muffled speaking, but it didn't register in his mind what the person could have been saying.

He registered that it was repetitious, however, and some part of his brain tuned into it.

"You're okay, you're safe, I'm here, breathe. You're okay, you're safe, I'm here, breathe."

He tried to focus on it rather than the tightness in his chest and the feeling of death.

"You're alright, you're okay."

Harry took more shaky, choked breaths in an attempt to breathe normal.

"Can you unlock the stall?"

His fingers fumbled with the lock for what felt like years before it slid open and the door swung open, revealing blonde perfection.

Harry tried to remain standing, he really did. But with the loss of his physical support, he fell forwards, stumbling into the openness of the bathroom.

"Hey, you're alright. Is it okay if I help you stand? If I put an arm around you, would that be okay?"

Harry couldn't speak through gasping breaths, his mind barely registering the question. He reached out for anything, something to support him because he felt like he was going to fall into the floor.

Something strong grabbed his hand, and a warm arm was around his waist, grounding him. 

"Is this okay? Deep breaths, in, out. I've got you, focus on breathing, you'll be okay."

He attempted deep breaths, but that didn't work too well, so he stuck with shallow, panicked ones.

"Slow down. In. Out. You're safe, you're okay."

"Down," Harry gasped, because he was pretty sure despite the arm holding him, he was going to fall over if he didn't sit down.

"Down? Sit down? Alright, slowly. C'mon, you're okay."

Harry could register the floor underneath him, his shaking body, his rapid breathing, wet tears on his face. He tried to start with slowing his breathing, shaky breaths in and out.

"Perfect, you're doing great. In and out, slowly. I've got you." The arm was still wrapped around his waist, which was good, because Harry felt like he was going to fall backwards. "Focus on your breathing, focus on the tiles of the floor, try to count them."

1, 2, 3, 4... Harry's mind wandered back to the panic at hand, before he tried again. He got to twenty, and by the time he did, his breathing had slowed.

"You okay?" Draco asked, and Harry took a moment to respond.

Jesus Christ, he had had a full blown anxiety attack right in front of Draco Fucking Malfoy.

"Fine," he muttered, although the shakiness in his voice depicted differently. "You can go now. Thanks."

Draco raised an eyebrow. "Then stand up."

Harry glared. He knew the second he would try to stand, he would fall over. His legs were too shaky.

"You're a twat, you know that?" he murmured.

Draco grinned. "I've been told."

"Doubt it, Mr. Perfect."

"Ew, that's a terrible nickname. Here, let me help you up."

"Prat."

"Just take my hand."

Harry scowled as he allowed Draco to help him up to his very shaky feet. Draco still hadn't moved the arm around his waist, although that was most likely because Harry most definitely would fall over if he hadn't.

Draco reached up and wiped away tears Harry had forgotten were there. His eyes met Harry's, and he smiled.

For a second, Harry could almost believe Draco was as hopelessly in love as he was.