A/N: For the Disney Challenge, I present, DRARRY!

My prompt was Sleeping Beauty.

Hope you like it!

Italics are thoughts (Usually Harry's)

It was odd really. Harry didn't really look in pain, he didn't look like he was simply sleeping, but he didn't really look dead either. He was just lying there, cold and grey and shrunken. Like a skeleton.

Draco pursed his lips

Most people said that the dead looked like "they were just sleeping" but maybe a little pale and cold. He didn't think so. Harry didn't look dead, just… sort of frozen…

He tried in vain to swallow down the quickly rising panic.

He tried to tell himself that Harry wasn't dead and that he would wake up soon, but staring at Harry's seemingly lifeless form fear got the best of him, and Draco couldn't help but whisper a few pleading words as slow tears slithered down his face, a river of liquid sorrow.

"Please don't leave me all alone"

Harry was haunted by visions of grey eyes and silver blonde hair. Words of love, of hate, and of simple nothings swirled around hazily in his muddled mind. The only thing Harry was consciously aware of, at least he thought he was aware of, was the blackness. It wasn't the evil sort of blackness, the sort from Voldemort's soul sliver, but more of a deep, unrelenting blanket that would not let him go.

Harry tried to reach out and grab a dancing wisp, but it simply flitted away, swirling and twirling back into the mass of unattainable muddled consciousness before coming back and floating closer.

This time Harry pretended not to see it, and when it flitted a little closer, Harry reached out and grabbed the irritating luminous strand.

And suddenly Harry was bombarded by sound.

"Please, please don't leave me alone"

The voice was so familiar, so sad and desperate, so terribly terribly alone that Harry, who in this weird half world he was in had not been aware he was capable of emotion, was flooded with the pain and desolation.

Harry was overcome with an urge to comfort the owner of the deep baritone cry for help. Experimentally, Harry shifted a little bit, as if merely getting ready to shift into a sitting position. Something curled warningly around his arms and abdomen. Harry looked down to see some odd dark tentacle like thing covering his body. The black tendril would have blended in with his shadowed murky surroundings if it wasn't for the luminous thread like things that floated in his near proximity. He decided the shiny bits of smoke like substance were his key out of this bizarre hell and if he got close enough, he would get to go home.

Slowly, he began to formulate a plan to get out of here.

Even after Draco's pleading whisper, nothing happened. Draco cursed himself. He wasn't suppose to get his hopes up, this wasn't some sort of fairytale. People didn't get up from magical comas just because some usually stoic git let their guard down and begged for it.

Even thought Draco knew it was probably pointless, Draco never left the Golden Boy's side.

Almost everyday the irritatingly persistent Healer appointed to nurse all of Hogwarts injured miscreants tried to tell him to go home or eat something. She also kept trying to educate Draco on the statistics and nature of magical comas such as these trying to get him to leave. Draco never let her. He knew she was tryin got convince him to leave and get a life. He also knew she was well meaning though because, honestly, Draco was starting to waste away by Harry's bedside.

So it was only after the third week when he had been so, so tired and just so, very, very alone that he let Pomfrey hold his hand and tell him the entire truth of Harry's condition.

At first he didn't believe her, he didn't want to. He wanted to fight for his Harry, save him like Harry had saved his own sorry self so many times before.

One night he tried to leave Harry but he ended up drunk. He apparated (and almost splinched) to Hogwarts and slowly but steadily stumbled to the hospital wing where he collapsed by Harry's bed, once more begging for him to walk up.

"Please Please Please"

Then, another three weeks later, it started to sink in.

Harry was completely tangled in thick black tentacles, he could barely blink without them trying to strangle him. He was trying so, so hard to stay awake for Godic knows how long simply because of that haunting whisper.

He tried to escape too many times, and each time more and more tendrils came and wound more and more tightly. They had started to drag him away from his saving grace, the bright swirling mass of light until he simply could not, and did not want to fight anymore. He decided it was time to give up, when his went vision sort of whitish. He had known that there was a shining wisp, brokenly floating toward him for what seemed like forever; it almost reminded him of an determined owl trying to go somewhere important despite an injured wing. It had gotten close, and soon enough it flew into his burning, dark adjusted eyes and sorrow resonated throughout his entire being.

"Please, please please"

The words were so broken, so terribly angst, that Harry could not help but cry out. He had to try again! For the voice! All Harry could manage was a twitch of his fingers and flutter of his eyes before the tendrils closed around his eyes and Harry was enveloped in black.

Pomfrey's magical alarms blared

Draco literally leapt from his spot and fell to the cold, hard, linoleum. He began to panic, what was happening! What should he do?!

"POMFREY!" he screamed hoarsely, he hadn't really spoken in a long time and it showed.

The health matron scurried in, and with one look at the glowing runes above her unconscious patient's head, went pale. She thrust Draco out of the room whilst screaming spells and frantically brandishing her wand at her patient.

Four hours later, a disheveled Madam Pomfrey called Draco in.

"I'm so sorry sweetie, I don't think…" she sobbed "I don't think he is going to make it"

The stunned blonde stumbled over to the bed of said patient and simply stared in disbelief as his thoughts went astray.

Draco guessed the cliché was only a little true. Harry did look like he was only sleeping, even he was cold and grey and partially emaciated. He wanted to cry, but he would not. He had only cried twice after he had gone to Hogwarts no matter how bad things got; once in 6th year when Draco was forced to kill Dumbledore, and once when Harry first fell in a coma. Plus, Harry wouldn't want him to.

So instead, Draco closed his eyes tightly, and bent over the shrunken figure for one last kiss.

Everything was white; an intense, dazzling, white. The tendrils all but screamed and shrunk away from the overpowering light, not unlike the Devil's Snare Harry encountered in his first year. All Harry could feel was pleasure, something pressed lightly on his lips, and suddenly, he remembered.

Alarms… sang?

The sweet sound of bells playing a short, happy melody flooded the solemn hospital wing and a once weeping Draco Malfoy cried out as two hands entangled into his hair and the cold, chapped lips underneath his kissed back.