Summary: A spell is cast on Harry which creates lots of angst. Draco comes along and creates lots of fluff. Hurrah. Not HBP/DH compliant. Slaaaaaash!
Disclaimer: I own nothiiiiiing.
Rating: T+
A/N: Read and review! If you likey tell your friends about it :D
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Chapter 10
Draco had not dared to leave Potter for even a second after he collapsed. He had grabbed his wand from the bedside table and sent every possible warning sign and alert in Madam Pomfreys direction, panicking as Harrys' blood trickled into his lap, smearing over his skin as he tried to shake the unconscious boy awake. He lay as a dead weight against Draco, not moving. Draco shuddered to think about it.
Madam Pomfrey had alerted Professor Dumbledore and then immediately set about tending to Harry's wound, asking Draco quick, precise questions as she worked. The gash across his chest had refused to heal entirely, and Harry had remained unconscious for over an hour.
Now he sat, his face pale, his chest wrapped in clean white bandages, leaning tiredly against the headboard of his and Draco's shared bed. Both boys had been cleaned of blood and provided with fresh clothes. Professor Dumbledore had arranged for their belongings to be sent down to their little room, and now he was seated facing them on a cosy conjured armchair, looking very solemn. It was just after midnight and the sky outside was black, scattered with cold, bright stars. Ron and Hermione had been informed of the situation and, to Draco's annoyance, allowed to sit in on this late night meeting. Grangers eyes were bloodshot and for once, Weasley was quiet.
Dumbledore cleared his throat and spoke softly to Harry.
"It seems the nature of the spell has at last presented itself."
Harry looked up at him with tired eyes. Every muscle in his body ached and a sharp pain burned in his chest when he breathed. There were faint purple marks visible above the collar of his t-shirt.
"I don't understand," he said hoarsely.
"It would appear that whoever cast this curse on you now has the ability to shape and control your dreams, producing pain and injury inside your head and somehow recreating it on the outside too. You say you were cut with a blade in your dreams, and the wound has been brought out of the dream with you, making it real."
"How?"
"I cannot say," said Dumbledore heavily. "It is very dark magic, and unlike anything I have ever seen before. Spells can of course be created, new curses can be invented… but something like this could only be produced by a wizard with skill beyond standard magic."
"What am I… going to do?" said Harry quietly, fear lapping at his insides. What could he possibly do? He couldn't stay awake forever, but the thought of trying to sleep was abhorrent. What if his nightmares kept getting worse and worse, until…? What if he fell asleep and never woke up?
"We are looking into it," said Professor Dumbledore. "We are researching trace spells for the castor of the curse, and preventative methods to suppress your nightmares."
"What about a potion for dreamless sleep?" asked Hermione.
"Not strong enough," Madam Pomfrey said. "A curse so powerful that it can break into a persons dreams will not be held back by a simple potion."
"Occlumency, then," suggested Draco, breaking his silence. He sat beside the dark haired boy, their arms and fingers touching. Potter needed contact more urgently after a bad dream, it appeared. "Maybe Potter can learn to block out any external influences."
"Ah, but he cannot control it while he is asleep," replied Professor Dumbledore. Harry felt tormented and angry. Every possible chance was being slowly ticked off the list as impossible. His head hurt, his body hurt… he just wanted everyone to leave so he could curl up in the dark next to Malfoy and not have to think any more. He wanted to go to sleep but he knew that he could not.
"What if you can't find anything?" he asked, staring at his fingers entwined with Malfoys, avoiding the headmasters gaze. The slash across his skin throbbed painfully. Professor Dumbledore spoke softly.
"Try not to lose heart at such an early stage. The situation looks bleak -"
Harry scoffed humourlessly, his grip tightening around Draco's fingers. Tears of frustration came to his eyes and he blinked furiously at the ceiling.
"- but you are not defeated yet, Harry. Your friends are helping every way they can -"
"That's right!" said Hermione earnestly. "We've been looking at potions you could drink that could show who cast the spell-"
"And spells to trace them, if that doesn't work," Ron finished. He nodded encouragingly at Harry, who gave them both a tired smile.
"Thanks, guys," he said softly, as Dumbledore rose from his seat, the stars sewn into his velvet cloak shimmering in the warm lamplight. He smiled benignly down at Harry.
"We will take our leave of you now." He signalled to Harry's friends - who left after much wringing of Harry's hand from Hermione, and patting on the back from Ron, both of which made him wince - and to Madam Pomfrey, who directed Harry to two potions on the bedside table, one to help him stay awake and the other to relieve pain, before she too swept from the room behind the headmaster.
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Sighing wearily, Harry rested his head back against the headboard, his head throbbing. The room was left filled with a tense silence. He closed his eyes and let the quiet wash over him, trying to pretend Malfoy was not in the room. He felt drained, and worried. How long would it take for his friends and professors to come up with a solution? What if it was days - or weeks? He couldn't stay awake for that long, and with no way of stopping what was happening… every time he fell asleep he became a sitting target. Fragments of memories were slowly coming back to him from the night the spell had been cast, but he had no idea who might have been the one to curse him. Was it the same person who appeared in his dreams? As dangerous an idea as it was, he thought maybe if he allowed himself to sleep he could find out more about his tormentor. Then with a sinking feeling he remembered the way his hand had fallen straight through the figure before him as though they were made of smoke. Desperation settled over him once again.
"Potter," said Draco sharply. "Are you really so stupid as to lie there with your eyes closed? You'll fall asleep!"
His eyelids snapped open. Malfoy was scowling down at him, and they stared at each other for a moment until Draco scoffed and turned away.
Harry continued to study him. As much as he detested Malfoy, he was incredibly grateful for the help he had given. Without him, Harry might still be in unbearable pain - might still be trapped in a nightmare with no-one to bring him out. The fact that Malfoy was the only one who could offer him comfort was confusing, infuriating, inexplicable… but Harry still felt glad that he was there, despite everything. He pushed his glasses up his nose and slowly rose to a sitting position, wincing at the pain in his chest.
"Malfoy," he said softly.
"What?"
He reached out hesitant fingers and touched the blonde boys arm lightly. Draco turned to look him in the eye, frowning.
"Thanks," said Harry quietly. "For… helping me. With everything."
Malfoy rolled his eyes. "It's not like I had a choice, is it Potter?"
"I know. I don't know why you've been dragged into all this, but… I'm sorry."
"You're sorry?" said Draco incredulously. He felt his temper flaring. "Oh, well, that makes everything alright again then, doesn't it? I should bloody well think you are sorry, Potter! Why you had to make me a part of your freakshow I can't even begin to understand -"
"This isn't my fault!" said Harry defensively, pulling his hand away. "I didn't want this to happen!"
"Maybe not but it wouldn't have happened if you hadn't been so heroically stupid as to go rampaging off on your own in the middle of the night like that, looking for survivors! Did you honestly think that nothing would happen? Are you that stupid that you think because You-Know-Who is gone, all the danger has passed? Do you ever pause to use your brain, Potter?"
Harry stared at him, anger taking over the pain in his chest and the weariness in his bones. He had been looking for survivors! There might still be people out there that needed help, he hadn't been able to sit by and let who knew how many people suffer. He looked intently at the pale boy next to him and knew that Malfoy would have no problem putting his own self-preservation first. He took a deep, calming breath, and tried to remember how much help Draco had been in the past few days.
"Look," he said quietly. "Neither of us is exactly happy about this situation, I know. And I am sorry you have to be a part of this, for whatever reason." He sighed and his fingers crept warily back towards the blonde boy, closing gently round his wrist. The frustration inside him eased. He scooted marginally closer. "But… I am grateful. And I can't deny the fact that… I - I need you here," he blushed under the gaze of Malfoys' grey eyes. "Instead of fighting all the time and just making this worse, couldn't we call a truce?"
Draco stared at the boy in front of him, with pale skin and cheeks painted a dusky red, huge uncertain eyes gazing up at him.
"A truce?" he repeated doubtfully.
Harry nodded. "Look, I promise as soon as all this is over we can go back to hating each others' guts, and we'll never speak of this again. But while we're here…" he unconsciously stroked his fingers lightly down Draco's arm, looking up at him imploringly. Draco felt a shiver run up his spine under this intense gaze. "… Couldn't we just try not to fight?"
A truce, Draco thought. He considered it. It would mean admitting he was stuck here for the foreseeable future - something he hadn't quite gotten around to doing. It would mean being civil towards Harry Potter - something he didn't know if he was capable of doing. He hated Potter, god how he hated him… but maybe he was right. They could forget all about it if and when this thing ended, and it wouldn't really make them friends, it would just put their enmity on temporary hiatus. And while Draco would never admit it to anyone in a million years, and would barely acknowledge it himself, he did.. sort of enjoy the fact that he was taking care of Potter. Harry Potter needed him, more than he needed his stupid Gryffindor friends. He was the only one who could provide the dark haired boy with comfort, the only one who could touch him without Harry recoiling in pain. It gave him a feeling of power over Granger and Weasley.
He studied Potter thoughtfully. "You really unnerved me earlier," he said softly. "I didn't think I was going to be able to wake you up. And then you were covered in blood…" he trailed off, the memory making him wince.
"Alright," he said impatiently. "For now, okay?"
Harry nodded. "Truce?"
Draco rolled his eyes as Potters' hand closed over his, and submitted to the inevitable.
"Truce."
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A/N: To my regulars :P Thankyou so much for all your reviews.You guys rock my tiny little world! :Settles down in front of campfire with a banjo:
Lennth, re. "Just pounce him already." Hahaha! You'll be waiting a lot longer for that I'm afraid. These things take time!
Torahamutaro-chan, re. "many DracoXHarry fics move way too fast as the authors often fail to realize how big a leap it is to go from enemies to lovers." I couldn't possibly agree more! Thankyou for your review :)
Giant hearts to Sakura, Rika'sGrayWolf, Nagini Potter, Knyghtshade and Forevrlostinme, too :D