Disclaimer: The world of Harry Potter and its characters are not mine.

A/N: Something very different this time around: a piece of fluff that reads more like a vignette.

To you, sweet Somnus, I pray

First Night

The witching hour had arrived, the time when nocturnal creatures come out to play, and the time when Harry Potter haunts the corridors of Hogwarts like a ghost. The corridor at night was quiet, save for the snores from the slumbering portraits on the walls. Altogether it was a peaceful night, a perfect time for a midnight rendezvous. And Harry, hidden beneath his invisibility cloak, glided along the dark corridors with such stealth that not even a mouse would be stirred.

It was not an exaggeration to claim that Harry knew every corridor and staircase and secret passageway there is to know at Hogwarts. After all, he had spent many sleepless nights exploring the castle -- with the help of a certain map of Hogwarts. He knew the floor plan of the castle like the back of his hand; so familiar with the interior of the castle he was that he did not even need to light his way in the corridors at night anymore.

After bypassing a rusty suit of armour, a row of snoring portraits, and a particularly nasty-looking gargoyle, he arrived before a set of majestic double door. It was the entrance to the school library, where, according to the Marauder's Map, his quarry was supposed to be. As silently as he could manage, he pulled the door open and slipped inside.

The inside of the library was dark and stiflingly quiet, but without the stalking figure of the librarian, the library seemed oddly serene, as though it too had fallen into a deep slumber like the rest of the castle. Slivers of pale moonlight from the half moon high above crept into the library through the lattice windows, transforming the library into a place filled with otherworldly mystery. Away from the ethereal glow of the gentle moon, tall bookshelves, filled with dusty volumes, were hidden in the shadow, waiting to be discovered.

The air smelled of old parchment and ink and strangely, cedar. This, more than anything else, confirmed to Harry that his quarry was indeed here.

Harry strolled past bookshelf after bookshelf, alcove after alcove, until at last he saw faint candlelight shining through from behind several rows of bookshelves located very close to the Restricted Section. The light did not faze Harry; he was expecting company. Silent as a cat, he crept closer to the light source. After rounding a corner, he arrived at an alcove tucked away neatly between two row of bookshelves.

The first thing that jumped into his vision was the tarnished oil lamp set upon the rosewood long table. The light was pale blue like moonlight, painting the boy, whose head was rested on the smooth tabletop, with dreamlike paleness.

The boy, his visage facing Harry, was easily recognizable: blond hair, pale skin, sharp feature -- it was Draco Malfoy, Harry's rival at Hogwarts. He appeared to be sleeping, his back rising and falling steadily in moderate tempo. Without his acid tongue and sharp edges, Draco looked almost innocent beneath the ethereal candlelight.

About his sleeping form were books and pieces of parchment scattered wildly across the tabletop like castle walls, barring anyone from coming through. Out of curiosity, Harry stole a look at what was written on the parchment. Strange incantations and unfamiliar symbols in Draco's cursive, archaic hand riddled the yellow parchment. The books proved to be equally unhelpful, their obscure content beyond Harry's ability to decipher.

Finding nothing of interest, Harry looked upon Draco's sleeping face once more, only to discover Draco's sleep was not as restful as it first appeared to be. There was a slight frown hanging over Draco's brow, spelling of troubling dreams. Harry had a sudden urge to smooth it away, to take away every fragment of Draco's worries, until there was nothing left for him to take. It was an urge he had experienced very often lately, dating back to the day he first noticed something was wrong with Draco.

Draco appeared tired all the time, and more than once he was reprimanded by the professors for falling asleep in class. The usual biting sharpness in his grey eyes had all but disappeared, replaced by a dull weariness that would not go away. It stirred something in Harry every time he looked upon Draco's languish figure, and he found himself suddenly afraid -- afraid for Draco. Harry chucked it up as his insomnia-ridden mind talking, but no amount of rationalization could stop the fluttering in his stomach whenever he laid eyes on this brat of a boy, nor could it prevent him from continuing his midnight detour to the library.

For many nights now Harry found himself sneaking into the library after hours. And every time, he found Draco there, sitting before the same table, facing the same bookshelf, books and parchment strewn on the table in the same manner of disarray. Sometimes Draco seemed to be furiously catching up on his homework, but most of the time he simply slept while Harry watched.

Harry wondered if Draco had cast a curse on him without his knowledge, or if Draco had slipped him some mysterious potion while he was not looking. Otherwise, why would Harry do something as sickeningly sentimental as watching someone sleep? And that someone was Draco Malfoy no less.

Perhaps he had fallen into an alternate universe, which could definitely explain the surrealism of the whole situation. This train of thought made Harry want to bang his head on the table in frustration, or drown himself in a glass of firewhiskey. Either method would result in a splitting headache, but Harry could live with that, if only he could, for a moment, actually pass out and get some rest. Perhaps then his hopelessly tangled mind would finally make some sense.

However, when he turned his gaze back to the slumbering boy before him, any resolve he possessed had all but dispersed, like snow being melted away by the cruel sun. Heaving a sigh, he discarded his invisibility cloak and moved closer to Draco, until he was hovering over Draco in an oddly protective stance. Then cautiously, without waking Draco, Harry placed a light kiss on Draco's temple, before whispering the incantation for the sleeping charm.

He found this spell in a book as he was researching for ways to deal with his sleeplessness. Although the spell did not work on him, it worked perfectly when he cast it on Draco. He did not want to run the risk of Draco waking up and finding him there. He would never let Draco know what went on during these midnight rendezvous, when dreams and reality collided in a spectacular explosion of illusory fireworks. The hazy moon would be his sole witness, the silent companion who would guard his secret for eternity.

Sitting across from Draco, Harry noted with a hint of satisfaction that the frown on Draco's face had vanished. And there he sat for a long time, watching Draco sleep and thinking of nothing in particular. A sense of comfort and warmth flowed into his heart like chocolate melting on his tongue, and he found himself yielding to its irresistible lure.

If anyone were to look in on Harry right now, they would be surprised to see the faint smile on Harry's face and the bright glow in his eyes as he watched over Draco, oblivious to the world and everything else around him. The world fell away until nothing was left but the two boys, one asleep, one awake, sitting across from each other amidst dusty old books and looming bookshelves.

Softly Harry whispered to Draco, his lips twisted into a wry smile that tasted almost bittersweet in his mouth, "Sleep my sleep for me, Draco."

finis?

A/N: Catch the alternate universe joke? I don't usually do fluff, so to me it feels like I'm writing a very AU-ish AU. By the way, Somnus is the Roman equivalent of Hypnos, the god of sleep. Tell me what you think, okay? Oh, and thank you very much to those who've read my fics, and a further thanks to those who have left their comments. You really make my day!