I know it's going to be a bad night when I open my eyes to see soft moonlight filtering through impossibly tall trees instead of a stone ceiling, and feel sticks and leaves instead of smooth cloth beneath my fingers.

I know it's going to be a bad night when I hear the high, cold voice of Voldemort, and the shrieking laughter of Bellatrix.

I know it's going to be a bad night when I feel Narcissa Malfoy's fingers creeping up my shirt.

"Dead." She says, scraping her nails along my chest after our brief exchange about Draco.

Every time I have this dream, some new horror is revealed. It's been a month since I've had it, but it feels just as real as it did during the war, and every dream after.

Like pure, undiluted terror stinging my veins as it's forced through along with ice cold blood.

A trip through the forest, Hagrid's wails. Ginny's scream, Neville's speech. It's all the same. Until it's all different.

"Draco! Come here." Lucius tells his son, who in the real world begrudgingly walks across the courtyard to his unloving father. In this nightmare, however, he doesn't move

"Draco." Narcissa pleads in a way only a mother could. "come."

But through a crack in my eye, I can see the blonde standing his ground on the light side.

"No." He says, causing an uproar from the Death Eaters, who look terrified at Voldemort, who looks mildly intrigued.

"YOU ARE A DEATH EATER!" Lucius roars, eyes blazing with fury, and his wand raised. "YOU HAVE THE DARK MARK! OUR LORD'S MARK!" Draco swallows harshly

"I never asked for it. I was forced to get it." He says, getting gasps from Death Eaters and D.A members alike. "In fact, I was forced to do a lot of things I didn't want to do-"

"Draco!" Lucius says sharply, but Draco ignores him.

"I was forced to become you, father. I was forced into Slytherin. I was forced to follow your every order, no matter how tainted and evil they were. I was made to hate people of mixed blood, just because they come from different upbringings. I was forced to look down on those with less money, no matter how noble they were..." Draco turns to me, my squinted eyes not giving away that I'm still alive. "I was forced to hate Harry Potter. Harry, who is-" he stumbles over his words before continuing. "was- the strongest, brightest, bravest, and most selfless man I knew." Draco turns back to the Death Eaters.

"So I stand behind him. I will finish his job myself if I have to." Draco finishes, raising his own wand and pointing it at Voldemort, who just laughs maniacally.

"You had your chance, boy." Voldemort smiles. Honest to God smiles, and points his wand right back at the blonde wizard. "Avada Kedavra" he says, casting the deadly spell straight at Draco, and hits him squarely in the chest, knocking him backwards.

"NOOO!" Shrieks Narcissa, who is being held back by Lucius.

Another person is screaming too. And I think it's me.

"Harry!" Ron says, shaking me awake.

I sit bolt upright, nearly head butting Ron in the process. My shirt is drenched with sweat, and I'm shaking. My throat is raw from screaming.

I breathe heavily, not trusting myself to talk.

"I-I..." Is all I can get out. Ron pulls me into a side hug.

"It's okay. Whatever that dream was about, it's over now." He says, softly. I swallow thickly, and nod.

"Thanks." I croak, before Ron is satisfied enough with my comfort to return to his own bed.

'I must have forgotten to cast the muffliato charm tonight...' I think as I bury myself up to my chin in the silky red blankets on my bed.

The dream rushes through my head, and I try to hang onto the details before they fade into the oblivion of my mind. Draco's dead and limp form doesn't leave me, and tears prick the back of my eyes.

My throat is raw and stiff still, and it aches for water, but I can't peel myself out of the cocoon of warmth to get any.

Those grey, lifeless eyes staring at nothing, but everything at once kill me. The dreams don't usually affect me this way. They usually fade into the back of my mind with the rest of my traumatic life, but this stands out.

Blonde hair, splayed across the ground.

Pale hands, one gripping a wand, the other twisted under his back.

Grey eyes, staring into space.

And for some reason, the memory sticks.

-t.s-

The next morning, I wake up to Dean and Neville talking about chocolate frog cards, Seamus still sleeping, and Ron pulling a shirt over his head.

"Hey guys..." I say sheepishly. They all face me. "Sorry if I woke you guys up last night..."

They look at me with understanding. Not pity, but understanding.

"It's okay, Harry. You're more qualified than anyone to have nightmares. You DIED man." Dean says, sauntering over to me and clapping me on the back with a small smile. "I think it's okay for you to wake up screaming once in a while."

"Don't worry about it, mate." Ron says, yawning.

"Honestly, it's not like it's the first time." Neville says, pulling on his cloak.

"What?" I say, shooting a look at Ron, who stares at his hands.

"Well, yeah. Ron told us not to tell you though. Said it was a trigger-" Neville's eyes widen. "Uhh... sorry Ron." He quickly apologizes, and walks out of the room. I look right at Ron again, who is looking everywhere but at me.

"I thought you were going to tell if I said those things again." I say. He scratches the back of his neck.

"I mean... it had been a while... you hadn't said anything since the beginning of October." He says, standing up. I've gotten up too, and started pulling on my clothes and walking toward the door. He grabs my arm. "You're hardly talking English anymore during them. What am I supposed to do? I can't understand you... You're talking mostly..." His eyes travel the my forearm, which is revealed by my pushed up sleeve. His eyes lock onto something. I look down confused, until I see exactly what it is he's staring at. "Parseltongue..." He breathes. I wrench my arm out of his grip, and run down the stairs, pulling down my sleeve.

"Idiot, idiot!" I chide at myself, taking the stairs two at a time.

"Harry! HARRY!" Ron is yelling behind me. I tear through the common room to get to the portrait hole.

My friends look at me in confusion as I push through them.

"HARRY!" Ron yells. "SOMEONE GET HIM!" He yells at the other Gryffindors.

Hands grab at my robes and my arms, eventually entrapping me.

"Ugh!" I grunt, trying to break free of the prying hands.

"Harry, just calm down. What did you do?" A voice that I recognize as Hermione's.

"N-nothing... just let go!" I struggle against her and some other seventh and sixth years, the rest of the house staring in awe at us. Ron walks up to me, his face contorted in fear and fury.

"Why. Would. You. Do. That?" He asks me, tears glistening in his eyes, punctuating every word with a slap to my face, not extremely hard, but still leaving a sting.

"Ah! Ron!" I say, my arms still constricted by my friends. "STOP! IT'S NOT THAT BIG OF A DEAL!" I scream at him.

"SHUT UP! HOW IS THIS NOT A BIG DEAL?!" He screams back, his spit flying. Hermione's grip loosens on my arm, and I wrench it free. The buzzing starts in the back of my head, but I push it down with every force I have. "HOW IS IT NOT A BIG DEAL THAT YOU CUT?" Ron screams, and the room quiets. You could hear a pin drop, it's so silent.

My breathing is heavy, and all eyes are on me. My heart is beating a billion miles an hour, but my feet don't seem to want to move. Hermione pulls up my sleeve, and shrieks when she sees my arm.

And

It's

All

Too

Much.

I break free of the group, and run through the portrait hole, the buzzing in my head almost takes over, but I can't let it.

I find myself in the hall near the astronomy tower when I can't stop the blackout from taking over.

'They deserve it. Kill them. Kill him...'

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Comment if Drarry is your favorite ship!

-V