Warning: The second half of the dream is straight from the book.
Chapter 7- And What Do Dreams Make Me
Harry paced in front of the Slytherin dorm. It was the middle of the night and he was under his invisibility cloak, but he still felt like he was taking some horrible leap forward. He knew Draco was inside, he even knew which room. He'd only checked the Maurader's map a hundred times on his way down here. But he could never strike up the courage to go in. He didn't even know why he kept coming down here.
He just knew he wanted to talk—to see Draco. The most contact they'd had over the past three weeks had been an airborne fist fight that ended with Draco saving his life. Which Umbridge had apparently believed was all his fault and banned him from Quidditch for the rest of his life. Of course, Draco had also taken an active part of the fighting, but she hadn't seen that.
Then Hagrid had returned the next day. Draco had been right, he'd been sent on a mission to try and get the giants to help the Order defeat Voldemort, but Harry wasn't quite ready to tell his friends that he already known where Hagrid had gone. He did, however, want to talk to Draco about everything he had learned. He also wanted to ask him why he'd been avoiding him. And he just wanted to see him—even if he wasn't allowed to touch him.
Harry sighed, looked at the Slytherin common room door one last time and then began pacing again.
The DA left the last meeting before Christmas break in twos and threes, leaving Hermione, Ron, Harry, Cho, and her friend in the room. December had arrived with little improvement in Harry's mood. He couldn't even look forward to the DA meetings without feeling a twinge of emptiness that Draco no longer came.
"You want us to go ahead, Harry?" Hermione asked, glancing over at Cho, who was now waving her friend ahead. Harry shrugged, he supposed it wouldn't hurt to talk to Cho now that there was no Draco in his life. Hermione pursed her lips, seemingly unconvinced.
"Come on, Hermione," Ron grabbed her arm, always eager to leave Harry alone with someone who wasn't Draco. She gave Harry one last concerned look but let Ron pull her out.
Harry looked over at Cho. She was standing in the middle of the room, making little sniffling sounds, and he realized suddenly she was crying.
"Um, Cho? Are you….?" He started and then trialed off. What was one supposed to say to a crying girl who was just standing in the middle of the room?
"I'm sorry," she hiccupped, wiping her eyes, "I just-."
"It's fine," he cut her off. He really didn't want to hear about Cedric right now no matter how bad it made him feel to think it. Suddenly Draco's voice sounded in his head, who cares about everyone else. You deserve to be happy. You. Harry started moving toward the door, "I understand, Cho, really."
"No, wait!" She called, "don't go. I'm sorry to get all upset… I don't mean to…" He didn't have any argument to that. He didn't mean to do a lot of stupid things that he ended up doing anyway. Granted most of them involved Draco but still… He supposed crying could be the same thing.
He thought about what Draco would say if he saw Harry in the position he was in right now. He would probably tell him he was an idiot for not leaving when he had the chance. He laughed lightly, and Cho smiled, probably thinking he was laughing at whatever she had said. He felt a moment of panic, she was leaning toward him now, her soft lips curved in a smile with tear tracks still visible down her face. Her dark eyes were pretty, and he supposed the freckles on her nose were attractive when the light hit them like that.
"I really like you, Harry." She murmured, her lips maybe an inch away from his. And he thought, maybe-just maybe-he could fall in love with her if he really tried. She was pretty and smart and talented and good at Quidditch-
He realized a second too late that hers were not the lips he wanted to be kissing.
Harry returned to the common room feeling broken. His head hurt, his heart hurt, his soul hurt. The only person he wanted to see didn't want anything to do with him. He went into the common room to find Hermione and Ron seated by the fire, with most everyone else already gone up to bed. Harry tried to sneak up to his bed behind them, but Hermione's sharp voice called him over.
"Harry? What took you so long?" She asked. "Did you talk to Cho?" He sighed and made his way over to his friends.
"A little," he said. She gave him a speculative glance, pushing her work to the side in favor of studying him.
"Are you ok?"
"I'm fine, Hermione."
"You don't seem fine," she answered. "In fact, you haven't seemed fine since Malfoy stopped talking to you." He glared at her and she conceded with a sigh. "Fine, so what happened with Cho?"
"Well," Harry shifted, feeling uncomfortable, "she was crying and wanted to talk-."
"Why was she crying?" Ron interrupted.
"Did she kiss you?" Hermione ignored him. Harry was 90% sure he preferred Ron's question.
"Yeah," he answered reluctantly.
"HA!" Ron exclaimed, and Hermione glared at him. "What?" He turned back to Harry with a grin, "Well, was it good?"
"No."
"No?" Ron blinked. "But…"
"It was like she really didn't want to be kissing me in the first place," Harry twirled his thumbs together thoughtfully. "Then when she stopped, she just started sobbing on me and…"
"And…?" Hermione prompted.
"And," Harry hesitated and then changed his mind. He just wasn't ready to admit that he'd rather be kissing Draco Malfoy. Not to Hermione and Ron. "Nothing," he muttered, "it's nothing." He sighed. "I should really be going to bed." He stood and headed to his dorm.
"That was bizarre," Ron said, watching his best friend mount the stairs. Hermione threw a quill at him.
"Really, Ron, you have the emotional range of a wart. How can you not tell what's going on between Harry, Cho, and Malfoy?"
"Malfoy?" Ron gapped, "What's Malfoy got to do with anything?"
"Oh, honestly," she began to pack up her school things. "How you're his best friend, I'll never know."
Harry was kissing Cho, he could feel her tears slide across her cheeks and down onto her lips. He could taste her tears. It wasn't unpleasant. But there was still something wrong with the kiss. Her lips weren't the right shape. They were too soft. They were too curved. Her top lip was too big..
Harry opened his eyes to look past Cho and locked eyes with Draco. He was watched the two of them with shaded silver-gray eyes. And then suddenly Harry was kissing Draco, backed up against a wall, his hands pinned above his head, his mouth being ravaged. He knew Cho was watching and he didn't care. He just didn't want Draco to stop.
Then he was standing in front of Ron who was babbling about how Draco was using him. "You'll be better off without him!" Ron kept insisting. And Hermione stood of Harry's other side and kept point at a giant hole in Harry's chest yelling, "Does he look better off, Ron!?" And he turned his head and caught sight of Cho, with her head in her hands, crying off to the side.
"Why didn't you choose me?" She asked. "Why is he better than me? He doesn't even care about you?" Then it was Draco, standing an holding his hand out to Harry, an affectionate smile on his lips.
"Come to me, Harry," he whispered. Harry took a step forward, still unsure of whether he'd accept the hand or not...
Then, the dream changed….
His body felt smooth, powerful, and flexible. He was gliding between shining metal bars, across dark, cold stone…. He was flat against the floor, sliding along on his belly… It was dark, yet he could see objects around him shimmering in strange, vibrant colors…..He was turning his head… At first glance, the corridor was drooping onto his chest, his outline gleaming in the dark… Harry put out his tongue…He tasted the ma's scent on the air…He was alive but drowsing…sitting in front of the door at the end of the corridor….Harry longed to bite the man…but he must master the impulse…. He had more important work to do….
But the man was stirring… a silvery cloak fell from his legs as he jumped to his feet; and Harry saw his vibrant, blurred outline towering above him, saw a wand withdrawn from a belt… He had no choice… He reared up high from the floor and struck once, twice, three times, plunging his fangs deeply into the man's flesh, feeling his ribs splinter beneath his jaws, feeling the warm gush of blood…
The man was yelling in pain… then he fell silent… He slumped against the wall… Blood splattered the floor…
The screaming woke him up. Someone yelling his name so loudly he wrenched upright and then clenched his hands over his scar. It was burn, throbbing, it hurt so bad he thought his head might burst.
"HARRY!" Someone screamed his name again, he only had a second to register that it was Ron's voice before he leaned over the side of his bed and vomited. When he sat back up the pain in his head had diminished but it was still blindingly painful.
"I'm going for help!" Someone yelled. Harry heard footsteps run from the room but paid it no mind.
"Ron," he croaked. "Ron, you're dad…"
"What?"
"Your dad's been attacked."
"Harry, you were dreaming."
"No!" Harry shouted. He needed them to understand. It wasn't just a dream, it was real. He threw the covers off him.
"Harry!" Ron yelled, trying to grab him. But Harry just stumbled out of bed, he could only think of one person who would believe him, who would just take him at him word. He stumbled down the stairs, tripping twice and clamping his hands over his face to try and stop the feeling of hot coals being burned against his forehead. "Harry, stop!" Ron was yelling after him, but Harry wasn't about to be stopped.
Harry ignored him, turning out into the corridor and stumbling in the direction of the Slytherin commons. Ron tried to grab him again, but Harry dodged his hands. About halfway to the dungeons, he managed to find his feet and about 3/4th of the way there, the pain in his scar turned into a dull throbbing. He spoke the Slytherin password and the portrait swung open with a disgruntled hiss.
"How did you know….?" Ron gapped and then scrambled in the hole after him. Harry continued to ignore him, heading straight for Draco's room. "Harry," Ron said, his voice a hushed whisper in the deathly quiet common room. "Harry, have you lost your mind?" Harry pushed open Draco's prefect door, grasped his shoulders, and shook him, hard.
"Draco," Harry called frantically, "Draco, wake up!" Draco jerked awake, flinging himself away from Harry and bring his hands up to smack Harry across the face and chest.
"Let me go!" Draco yelled, still struggling against Harry's hold on him. "Let me go!"
"Draco," Harry answered, hands tight on Draco's shoulders. "Draco, it's me." Draco seemed to relax at the sound of his voice and then he slowly opened his eyes, fixing his silver-gray eyes on Harry.
"What the fuck, Harry?" He said, now all but limp. He leaned forward, resting his forehead against Harry's shoulder. "Are you trying to kill me?"
"I had a dream," Harry answered. He was shocked; he'd never seen Draco like this. Never even considered that he could scare him this badly.
"So?" Draco pulled back, eyebrows drawing together as he looked up at Harry. Then he glanced around and seemed to realize where they were, his eyes locking on Ron. "Why are you in my bedroom with the Weasel, Potter? I swear if you-."
"I had a dream about Voldemort, Draco." Harry whispered. Silence. And then:
"You fucking idiot! I told you." Draco screamed, smacking Harry on his shoulder, his chest, his face. "I told you, you needed to close your mind! But did you listen? No, you fucking stupid little twat of a-."
"Draco!" Harry grabbed his wrists, wincing as his elbow connected painfully with Harry's rib. "Ron's dad is really hurt. He needs help."
"Why didn't you go to the headmaster?" Draco asked, scowling at Harry. "Why come to me?" Harry blinked, and then blushed. The idea hadn't even occurred to him.
"No one will believe me." He said finally. "I sound crazy." Draco snorted in answer. "Please, Draco, I need your help."
"Whatever, Potter," Draco sighed, rolling his eyes in a show of how put upon he was, "let's just go."
To Draco's credit he didn't make them wait for him to get dressed or anything, he just grabbed Harry's hand and led him straight out of the Slytherin commons and toward the Headmaster's rooms.
"Go find a teacher, Weasley," he said. "I'm sure they're all looking for Potter at this point." Ron opened his mouth to argue, but Draco just send him a deadly glare and Ron was gone.
"Draco-," Harry tried. He didn't know what he was going to say, just that he needed to say something to get rid of the horrible tension between them. He had run to Draco without a second thought and now almost found himself regretting the impulse. He still wanted Draco with him, he just wished he knew what to say to him.
"You need to control your mind, Harry," Draco interrupted. "If you keep letting The Dark Lord in like that, you might just lose it."
"Why do you call him The Dark Lord?" Harry asked. "Are you scared to say Voldemort?"
"Yes," Draco answered, his voice so soft Harry almost missed it.
"But-."
"Potter!" McGonagall's voice interrupted them. She appeared out of the gloom of the corridor, Ron right on her heels. "Malfoy?" She faltered. "What's going on? What's happened?"
"Potter's had a dream, Professor." Draco said, stepping forward. "Take us to the Headmaster." McGonagall blinked at him. "Now." Draco demanded. McGonagall blinked but gestured the three of them behind her and led the way.
"Fizzing Whizbee," she said, and the stone gargoyle jumped out of the way, allowing them to climb up the stair and enter Dumbledore's office. Dumbledore was already at his desk, dressed casually in a night shirt with a dressing gown on top. He looked curiously at Draco and then smiled warmly at the rest of them.
"Ah, Professor McGonagall-," he started.
"Headmaster," Draco cut through his words in that smooth aristocratic way that only Draco could. "Potter has had a dream. He believes Mr. Weasley to be badly injured, you need to send people to the Department of Mysteries immediately." Harry blinked at him. The Department of Mysteries… What was Draco talking about? Ron seemed equal confused, but McGonagall and Dumbledore were staring at Draco with something close to alarm.
"Mr. Malfoy," Dumbledore said after a moment, "you seem... well informed."
"Yes, my father likes me to know what's going on." Draco replied steadily. "Now are you going to allow Mr. Weasley to die or not." He shrugged as if he couldn't care less but Harry caught the tension behind the movement. "I admit I wouldn't care which you'd choose, the Weasley's have never done anything for me."
"Hey!" Ron said, stepping toward Draco. Dumbledore blinked at Draco one more time and then turned to his portraits and began to issue orders about retrieving Mr. Weasley.
"How did you know all that?" Harry asked. Draco sent him a speculative look before answering.
"I'll explain it all to you later."
"Explain what?" Ron asked. He looked over at them, his eyes just a touch too wide. Harry wondered if he was going to go into shock soon.
"Worry about your father, Weasley," Draco answered. His voice was soft, and Harry blinked at the kindness in it.
"Harry?" Dumbledore suddenly called, keeping his eyes firmly fixed on the now empty portraits. "In your dream, what position did you see everything happening from?" Harry gaped at him, it was almost as if he knew. A hand reached down to clasp his leg. Harry looked over, looked into sympathetic silver-grey eyes and realized Dumbledore did know, just as Draco did.
"I was the snake," Harry whispered.
"Headmaster," Draco spoke and Dumbledore and fixed his eyes on Draco. Harry felt anger surge through him, why wouldn't he look at him. "Harry needs Occlumency lessons. He can't keep going on the way he is." Before Dumbledore could answer one of the portraits returned, panting against his frame.
"I yelled until someone came," he said. "They carried him up a few minutes later. He doesn't look too good, he's all covered in blood…" The man trialed off as Harry shivered. Draco's hand tightened on his knee.
"Good," Dumbledore answered. "Minerva, I need you to go and wake the other Weasley children." He then turned back to Ron and still kept his eyes away from Harry. "You'll be spending the holiday at Sirius' house-."
"Sirius Black?" Draco interrupted. "I thought he was dead." Harry's lips twitched, finally something Draco didn't know.
"No, Mr. Malfoy." Dumbledore answered, scribbling something down on a piece of paper. "Now, I want you to memorize this." He handed the paper to Draco.
"What? Why?"
"Because you will be accompanying the Weasley's for the holidays."
"What?" Draco answered. "Absolutely not!"
"Mr. Malfoy, you are entirely correct that Harry needs an Occlumency teacher and he seems to trust you-."
"You want me to teach him Occlumency?"
"Well, obviously not you alone. Besides, you're obviously very skilled at it," Dumbledore answered, "you've resisted all my attempts to open your mind since you've walked into the room. In addition, you know too much."
"So, I'll be a prisoner." Draco's face tightened.
"No, think of it as us helping you, Mr. Malfoy."
"Helping me," Draco responded flatly.
"Yes," Dumbledore smiled. "After all, I think I'm correct in assuming you're not happy with the direction your life is heading down, are you?" Draco blinked slowly at him, his face never changing. "I'll make all the arrangement with your family." Draco blinked at him again. Dumbledore seemed to take this as acknowledgement and turned away.
Before Harry could really decide how he felt about spending the entire Christmas holidays locked up with not only the Weasleys but Draco as well—the rest of the Weasleys came in.
"Great," he thought he heart Draco mutter, "just great."
"Harry—what's going on?" Ginny asked. "Professor McGonagall says you saw Dad hurt-." Thankfully Dumbledore started talking before he had to. He gestured everyone around his desk and told them to take hold of a blacken kettle saying they would be traveling by portkey.
"One," he counted, "two," his eyes flipped up, meeting Harry's for the first time that night. Immediately, Harry's scar burned white hot, filling him with an intense hatred so powerful he wanted to leap across the small space and pierce Dumbledore with his fangs. To make him bleed. To make him hurt, to suffer. "Three."
Harry felt a sickening pull around his navel and then was launched through space and banged onto the ground. He tumbled to the ground with the rest of the Weasley's. The only one who was able to remain standing was Draco, who cast a disgusted look around him before looking back down at Harry. His face softened slightly, and he extended a hand. Harry accepted it gratefully, letting Draco pull him to his feet. Neither of them let go when Harry was standing.
"Are you alright?" Draco asked softly, his thumb skimming across Harry's knuckles.
"Fine." Harry answered. Draco raised one pale eyebrow at him and Harry suddenly felt like collapsing on his shoulder and sobbing just like Cho had done to him.
"The dreams don't make you a bad person, Harry," Draco said. Harry's eyes widened, and he looked around to make sure no one had heard.
"You saw?"
"I saw."
