Written for The Houses Competition
Head of House Hufflepuff
Category: Short
Prompt: [First line] Tomorrow comes whether we want it to or not.
Word count: 1,713 (with epigraphs), 1,684 (without epigraphs)
Beta: Aya Diefair
Here they sang about tomorrow, and tomorrow never came
~Empty Chairs at Empty Tables, Les Miserables
Tomorrow comes whether we want it to or not. Of course, tomorrow never really comes, it's always a day away, but the day following the previous one does come. And that day was called tomorrow back then so does that mean that tomorrow actually came? Or does it mean that tomorrow is always one step ahead of the rest of time while yesterday is one step behind? Was it possible to catch up to tomorrow using a time turner? No. Tomorrow would become today and the next to come would be tomorrow. Even with time travel, tomorrow was always just out of reach. Perhaps that was not a bad thing, there would always be the hope that maybe tomorrow will be better. And that hope can never die, because tomorrow never truly comes.
The dining room was no longer used. The memories stored in there were not ones to be dwelled on. Within that room, strategy meetings had been held between Lord Voldemort and his Death Eaters. Inside that room was where the plans had been developed, where the revolution against the Light and the Muggles had been discussed. It was there that initiations had taken place, lighting the Dark spark within the next generation of Death Eaters.
Now it was in shadows. Now it was devoid of all but the ghosts of days gone by. No ghosts lived within Malfoy Manor apart from those within the minds of the occupants. He sometimes wished that there were ghosts in his home, wished that there would be something other than the deathly silence echoing through the empty halls. It was either the silence of his home or the silence that followed him when he went outside.
With a heavy sigh, Draco Malfoy swiftly made his way out of the Manor, steadfastly ignoring the phantom shadows that whispered to him as he passed the dining room. He couldn't spend all of his time within the Manor, no matter how much he wished to. He had to go into Diagon Alley and purchase some more Dreamless Sleep potion. Having addictive properties made it unavailable through owl order and instead had to be collected from a potioneer.
Slamming the door behind him, Draco headed for Diagon Alley, hoping it would be quiet and he wouldn't have to endure the silent judging stares. The war may be over but that didn't mean all was forgiven. It was known that the Malfoy family had been supporters of Lord Voldemort, thus they were not trusted by those who had opposed the Dark Lord's rule.
It was quieter than usual, but not quite quiet enough for his peace of mind. Draco wished he could wear a hood to conceal his identity but knew that doing so would spark panic in some people, thinking that a remnant Death Eater was going to start attacking. It was a consequence of the Death Eater uniform, no one could walk around with a deep cowl covering their face and there were certainly no masks to be worn. Shaking off the glares, Draco pushed on until he reached his destination.
Right next to Slug and Jiggers there was Potions for Particular People and it was there that he received the dreamless sleep he and his mother needed. The two occupants of the store turned around when the bell ringed to indicate someone had opened the door and Draco stopped. Of all the people he had no desire to see, Harry Potter was at the top of the list. Yet here he was buying—if Draco's eyes were correct—the same thing he was here for; dreamless sleep.
Potter nodded at him in greeting and turned back to Phil – the cashier who was ringing up his order. Draco determinedly ignored the presence of his one-time rival and saviour of the wizarding world. Instead, he wandered through the shelves and examined the various potion vials sitting upon them. It didn't take long for Phil to finish and Potter vanished out of the door, leaving Draco free to approach Phil for his own order of dreamless sleep.
That night, as he rolled the vial of dreamless sleep around in his hand, Draco thought back to what he had seen. Why was Potter getting dreamless sleep? It was a potion that was only to be used in the most dire of circumstances, when nightmares or similar sleep consequences threatened harm to the sleeper or those around them. What haunted Potter so much that he needed the strong potion? Sure, they had been in a war but that was over and it no longer affected Potter.
He had no constant reminders of the war around him, he did not have a room within his house that had once been the epicentre of Lord Voldemort's reign. He didn't have people glaring at him for trying to keep his family safe. He didn't have people spitting in his path as he strolled down Diagon Alley for one reason or another. What could make Saint Potter need the strongest sleep potion out there?
They screamed at him, all the time. He could never escape them. He entered the Burrow and all he could hear was Fred's laughter. At Grimmauld Place he could see Sirius and Remus quietly chatting together. He could see Tonks chase after Remus as he desperately tried to keep her at arm's length. The kitchen was the worst. It was there that he could hear the urgent voices planning their revolution against Voldemort. Could see himself and his friends trying to hear the secret plans, trying to help because they weren't children.
Except they had been. Nothing could have prepared them for the war that had come. They had thought themselves ready for anything, they had fought against Voldemort and his Death Eaters for years, why shouldn't they be a part of the Order? Because they hadn't yet seen the face of war, had not yet been surrounded by the dead that battle created.
Phantom shadows followed him as he walked through Grimmauld Place. Phantom faces stared in through the windows as he tried to put the past behind him. The only escape he found was within the potion of dreamless sleep. Only when he drank that did he gain a reprieve from the ghosts haunting his every step. Only then could he truly rest.
Harry had thought that once the war was over, he could finally have a normal life. Of course, he couldn't. Even Ginny—though he loved her still—brought out his nightmares. He had grown so afraid of hurting her that he had removed himself from her life. He had moved into the house of his nightmares and stayed there with Kreacher as his only company.
They didn't know when it had started, or why, but it had. They had come across each other more frequently while at Potions for Particular People and had moved on from nods of acknowledgement to quick conversations to heart-wrenching confessions. In each other they found the one they had been searching for unconsciously. Both of them children of the war, both of them struggling to leave it behind. The faces staring at them through the windows, the shadows that followed them doggedly, they knew both.
It wasn't easy. They had been enemies for the entirety of their school years, had only moved past the hatred they held for each other during the Battle of Hogwarts. And yet it was so very simple. They had no history apart from that which had been wiped away by the blood of their friends on the grounds of Hogwarts. It was easier to talk to someone that had no previous connection to you than to speak of your darkest secrets to a close friend.
Inevitably, they became good friends. Sharing their fears and secrets tended to do that to people, just as sharing life-threatening experiences (such as a troll) did. They were closer to each other than they had been to anyone else. Even Ginny, for Harry, had never been so trusted by him. It was not uncommon for them to spend time silently curled up around each other.
They sheltered the other from the storm that was constantly raging inside of them. When the ghosts of the past came howling in through their minds, the other was just a floo call away. It grew to such a point that they both moved out of their nightmare houses and made a new one for themselves together. They had separate bedrooms and yet spent most of their nights huddled together under the same covers.
The warmth of another body next to them aided their sleep. The knowledge that the other would not judge them for a nightmare, would not grow exasperated of their terrified reactions because they themselves had them too, was blissful. And slowly, ever so slowly, their need for dreamless sleep lessened.
They had found their own version of dreamless sleep that was just as addicting. The security of another was all they needed. In each other they found what no lover could ever provide. They supported each other, protected each other from any threat, mental or physical. Draco could walk down Diagon Alley with Harry by his side and the stares would merely wash over him, he hardly noticed them anymore.
Occasionally a nightmare came. Occasionally a shadow crept into their hearts. Both Draco and Harry knew that all they had to do was call upon the other and they would be sheltered. They would be held in the other's embrace until the warmth of the other had burnt away all traces of the shadow.
When they were together, there was less pain. There were less phantom faces and shadows. There were less haunting memories attacking them constantly. There was more hope that tomorrow would be better. Because tomorrow was always a day away, always just another step ahead. It lit the path ahead of them as they continued their lives, letting the scars of war scab over and heal. Tomorrow comes whether we want it to or not, and the pair couldn't wait.
Tomorrow, tomorrow! I love ya, tomorrow!
You're always a day away!
~Tomorrow, Annie