Title: In Bed

Summary: Nights of watching Harry sleep has Draco thinking wonderful thoughts. Abundance of fluff and enough cuteness to make you slightly uncomfortable.

Rating: K+

Draco was laying on the hospital bed with explicit directions from Madam Pomfrey to not move for seven days. He was done with arguments. He supposed he should be glad that he wasn't being poisoned by said nurse for all he had done to his school. Crumbling around them, Hogwarts was a mess now that everything was done. But Draco didn't have to see the loaded looks and blank faces because of his injuries. He thanked Merlin for that.

What he did see was Potter in the bed adjacent to him. Now thoroughly exhausted and done with his ultimate purpose in life, the Boy-Who-Lived was in deep sleep. In fact, he rarely woke up. And when he did, he was surrounded by friends who doted on him as he shoveled in his food.

Draco could barely eat, his stomach insisting on rejecting anything that entered it. He knew it was the guilt and self-pity that was keeping him from getting better. That was alright. He didn't mind staying in bed.

A white curtain sectioned off the beds to provide privacy, separating Harry and Draco. But there was a small gap through which Draco could see into Harry's world. It looked amazing, full of laughs and triumphant stories. Peaceful sleep, as well. On Draco's end, there were tears and apologies, court orders and testimonies. Restless nightmares plagued him.

So he would watch Potter at night, knowing that the Gryffindor would ward off the bad dreams. Usually it was Harry's profile or the back of his head that Draco watched, tracing the tendrils of raven hair that feathered on the pure white pillow case or memorizing the boyish nose and fanned lashes.

But not that night. That night, Harry had groaned in his sleep and turned towards Draco. Now face-to-face, Draco finally caught a glimpse of the Savior.

Harry's lids fluttered as he dreamed, seeing vivid images in his mind. His hands were curled around the pillow, holding it close to his chest. Draco pulled his arms away from his stomach and mirrored Harry hesitantly, sliding one hand under the pillow and moving the other on top until his fingers entwined together. He pulled the pillow towards his body, hugging it close. Harry sighed and then his face contracted into an expression of pain. His head snapped forwards as he sneezed.

"Bless you," Draco whispered.

"Hmm," Harry opened his eyes, murmuring.

The boys blinked at each other, Draco breathless in shock. But then Harry merely closed his eyes and fell back to sleep. That's when Draco realized that the boy didn't have his spectacles on. He couldn't see a foot in front of him because of how blind he was. Draco felt relief wash over him, more comfortable than ever to be able to watch Harry without getting caught. Eventually his eyes fell shut as well, Potter's image engrained in his mind and making him dream of Quidditch.

The next night, Harry faced Draco again as he slept. This must be how people felt when they meet a celebrity, Draco thought. He was slightly awed that the boy was so ordinary and somewhat scared to be so near him without suffering maiming consequences. Harry seemed to be having peaceful dreams. He hardly moved, twitching once in a while but staying still otherwise. Draco didn't sleep that night, clutching the pillow and absently thinking over his years at Hogwarts.

Harry was having exhilarating dreams the following night. He wouldn't stay still, mumbling incoherently and tossing in bed with such vigor that he managed to pull the sheets from under the mattress. Tangled in a mess of bedclothes and sweating profusely, he didn't seem scared of his dreams. Just confused. Draco watched in fascination. Every hour of so, Potter's face would disappear from view as the boy sat up with a sharp intake of breath. Three seconds later, he would fall back down on the pillow and move right back into his dreams. Draco wondered what Harry was so restless about.

It was near dawn when he finally slipped into easy sleep, curled away from Draco.

"Potter," Draco murmured, knowing the boy wouldn't answer. "Thanks for everything, okay?"

Harry merely breathed as a response. But Draco felt slightly better. If there were anyone who could forgive, it would have to be Potter.

Then came the night where neither boy could sleep. Harry grumbled about the heat and cold as he tried to find the perfect spot in his bed to sleep on. He squirmed and shifted for hours, frowning at the ceiling. He kicked his sheets off and then he pulled them back on. He threw his pillow away and then he picked it back up. He tried laying on his stomach and then on his back. When he was finally frustrated and near tears, he flipped over and blinked at Draco. To the myopic eye, there was nothing there but a blurry mass of white.

Draco watched tears fall from the boy's eyes and soak into the pillow. Harry was crying because he couldn't fall asleep. That was so weird. Draco watched with fascination as Harry sobbed. When had the Boy-Who-Lived transformed into a sniveling girl? Potter looked disgusting when he cried, face scrunched up and lips curled into an expression of helplessness. But Draco wanted to watch this humiliating display. Harry pressed a hand to his mouth when he realized that he was being excessively loud. He closed his eyes and brought his knees up to his chest. Then he sniffed and let out his tears quietly, lulling himself to sleep over a period of several minutes. By the end of it, Harry was left gasping from the strain even as he slept.

Draco closed his eyes. He hadn't cried in a while. He was glad that Harry had just cried for both of them.

The sixth night was a night Draco would never forget. And it wasn't because of a spectacular reason. It was just that he had never heard Harry moan and breathe that way before. With flushed cheeks and parted, wet lips, Harry was facing Draco as he was aroused by his dreams. Draco heard the partially muffled groans and saw the occasional shudders that passed through Harry. He wondered who Harry was dreaming about. Ginny, most probably. Harry tucked his chin down against his chest as he trembled. And with a soft sigh, he released himself, flushed and sweating as he panted. He smiled faintly, sinking into deep sleep once again.

On their last night, Harry was peaceful once again. He still dreamt and talked through the night, but he scarcely moved. Draco could never make out the words, but he knew from Harry's tone that it was a pleasant dream. It seemed almost intellectual by the way Harry was speaking gibberish so gravely. Draco smiled at the thought, falling asleep as he listened to Harry's gentle voice.

"Hmm… You're dreaming again."

Draco reached out to pull Harry towards him. "I know," he whispered, hiding against Harry's chest. He could get lost in Harry's arms, forever warm and safe. "Always about you."

"That's nice," Harry smiled, gently teasing the blond hair with his fingers. "So nice."

Now it was Harry who would watch Draco sleep, this time from inches away. From that close, he didn't need his glasses. His eyes could make out Draco's features perfectly. Their breaths wafted between them. Often, their hearts beat together as well. Both their dreams would be sweet and peaceful. And they would wake up to each other's soft sighs. These were the best times of the day for Draco. He liked to fall asleep before Harry and be awakened by him. That way, it felt as though Harry never slept, always awake for Draco.

"I love you. Here and in my dreams," Harry whispered.

Draco smiled against Harry's skin, falling in dizzying speeds into spirals of euphoria. He hummed in response, melting into his lover's arms.