A/N: Thank you to Fanofbellaandedward, Owlsnape and spittingllama7856 for the support! Please share your theories!

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Tuesday 2nd October 1888

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It was in the early hours of the morning that restlessness roused Harry from his sleep.

Cracking open an eyelid it took a little while before his brain remembered the events of the previous evening –rather, the early hours of the morning. His fuzzy vision made out the engraved pillars of the four poster bed holding up an elaborately embroidered velvet canopy. In any light, the curtains took his breath away. The mattress underneath him was plush and cushioned his aching joints perfectly. Had he really slept through the last twenty-four hours?

'I guess I needed it after seeing that body,' his sleepy brain mulled.

Harry shifted on his side and found that the expanse of mattress behind him was cool to the touch. His heart sank low in his chest. It made sense that Draco would retire to his bedchamber as promised. Harry couldn't help but feel somewhat disappointed though. He wouldn't have minded waking up to a warm embrace.

'Maybe if you want someone to hold you, you should go and ask for it,' his brain stated, now more alert.

There was a certain logic to it. However, Harry had never been one to ask for such things. If something good happened then he'd be glad for it, and if something bad happened, he'd simply take it in stride. He'd never really been one to go out and manipulate his own destiny for personal gains.

Restlessness settled into his bones, and Harry let out a weary sigh. He needed to stretch his legs out a little before attempting to sleep again. It had been the same, even when he'd lived up North in the family's cottage. He'd go out in the early hours before dawn and wonder around the fields out back. As long as the cottage was in sight –he'd leave a candle in his bedroom window as a sort of beacon –he'd feel safe.

Swinging his legs over the edge of the bed, Harry had to shift himself forward a few inches until his feet touched the cold, wooden floorboards. Chilling tremors racked up his legs but he grit his teeth, blindly touching around for the slippers Draco loaned him. Once on, he slowly shuffled towards the door and eased the latch up.

The door creaked a little as he opened it.

The dark hallway beyond was still as expected.

Harry found that he was grateful for the slippers, not only because they kept his feet from freezing on the wooden floors, but also because they made his footsteps virtually soundless as he slipped out of his bedchamber. The hairs on the back of his neck stood up on end as he made his way towards the main landing –and suppressed a gasp. Up above his head there was a huge latticed window. He'd never paid it much heed before but now as he looked out at the Heavens stretched high above him, his heart lurched. The stars winked down at him, as though they knew something he did not. The moon was swollen –on the very precipice of being full.

'One more day,' his brain warned.

He itched at his bandaged arm. He truly couldn't believe that it hadn't started healing yet. With a frown he had to force his attention from the moon –how did it look so huge through that window? Was it some form of giant magnifying glass? –and made his way along the corridor towards Draco's bedchamber. As he left the brilliant moonlight behind him, Harry felt that he could breathe a little easier. The sooner the police caught up with that madman calling himself 'the Ripper' the sooner they'd all sleep a little better.

Once at Draco's door, Harry had to quieten his hammering heart before raising a hand to knock timidly. There was no answer or stirrings beyond, and he had to wonder if he had knocked too lightly. He tried again.

There was still no answer.

'Well it is nearly dawn,' his brain chided.

Harry knocked again, louder.

When there was still no reply, he decided that he had two choices; he could either go into the room and disturb Draco that way, or he could run back to his own bed like a coward with his tail between his legs, and hope that he never embarrassed himself like that again. He was rooted to the spot for a moment, his legs trembling with fear and the cold seeping into his skin. He always ran away from anything remotely exciting. He took a huge risk coming down to study in London in the first place. Despite his injuries and the horror's he'd seen –he knew he'd never trade any of those experiences for a calm, quiet life like his Papa.

Drawing in a determined breath, he raised the latch and went in.

The curtains were open, letting in the bright moonlight. It shone into the room, bathing everything in its ethereal glow. The fireplace stood white and proud, the soot-stained cavern within making it appear like a large mouth. The latticed windows created a dark pattern on the floorboards and rug. It fell upon the four-poster bed and exposed the empty mattress and cold blankets therein. Harry was both confused and worried at the bed. Where was Draco? What on earth would wake the blonde man up at such an hour?

'Perhaps he couldn't sleep, just like you?' he pondered.

Turning his back on the room Harry went in search of his companion. Where could he look first? The kitchen? The study? Pursing his lips, he decided to go through the rooms floor-by-floor, his hand trailing on the wall for a guide, leaving the moonlit landing behind.

The study was empty as was the dining hall and the kitchen. All of the rooms served no purpose other than making Harry's panic creep into his mind and slowly spiral out of control. Bracing himself back against the kitchen counter, he let out a sigh and chewed on his thumbnail, a habit he only really bothered with unless he was at his wit's end. That's when his eyes caught sight of the eerier glow coming from under –a wall? Standing up, Harry crossed the room and went over to the panel of wall that seemed as air-tight as the rest.

He knocked against the wood. It was hollow.

With a frown, Harry felt along the panel with his fingernails and finally felt a chill brush against his fingertips. There was a door there he was sure of it. Finally, his palm pressed against a smaller panel in the woodwork and the whole section of wall seemed to slide inwards. His heart in his throat, Harry continued to push his weight against the hidden door and felt it sag to the side. Beyond, a stone spiral staircase was exposed. It would have been pitch black inside if it hadn't been for the eerie golden glow rising from somewhere below.

'Do I really need to go down there?' Harry asked himself, feeling his insides twist.

'Do you want to find Draco?' his brain snapped.

Biting the inside of his cheek, Harry stepped through the doorway and slowly descended the spiral staircase. It was so tight, the stonework almost damp with the cold. It seemed to suck the air right out of his lungs. Why would Draco need to sneak down here during the Witching Hour? The slippers muffled his footsteps as the light grew brighter. He was nearing the end of the staircase.

The staircase ended in a narrow archway. Before him there was a two foot long stone hallway which opened out to a beautifully bricked circular room. It was huge –probably as large as the dining hall up above. It looked as though it had numerous alcoves spaced around the edges expanding the general size with five other, small rooms. Almost every shelf and hollow in the walls was filled with candles of varying sizes and heights. All were lit and dribbling cream coloured wax down the stonework.

Harry was in awe as he took in the bookshelves, the trunks, the vials and strings of herbs and bulbs of garlic hanging from the ceiling. This room looked like something Snape would desire in his own home. In the centre of the room there was the large copper bathtub that Harry himself had bathed in. Candles had been arranged in a circle around the base. Feeling conscious that this place was meant to be a hidden for a reason, Harry was about to back away and retreat up the staircase when a hand shot out of the bath.

His heart screamed in his ears.

The pale white arm was covered in a thick, opalescent goo that seemed to slide over the skin. It made bile race up Harry's throat. The nails of the hand were sharp, a dull purple colour and very long. His vision blurred in fear and he inwardly cursed himself for forgetting his glasses. Every part of his body seemed to paralyse with dread as he watched the rest of the body pull itself upright. The jaw seemed stronger and more muscular than he was used to on any human –and the way it opened exposing fangs … it was all too much!

Harry was dimly aware of the flagstones impacting with his skull as he passed out.

~0~

Consciousness crept upon him before memories of that night resurfaced.

Lurching upright, Harry panted for air, sweat staining his skin. Everything was sweet and sickly and made his head spin as he groped over the pillows for a goblet of water. What was going on? Where was he? How did he get back up to bed?

"Hey, calm down it's okay."

"NO!" he cried out, fighting weakly against the two strong arms that held him back, easing him awkwardly back onto the mattress. "Get off me! Demon! Demon!"

A hand clamped down around his mouth. "Keep your voice down!" Draco hissed in his ear. "People are trying to sleep!"

Harry struggled against it but Draco was far stronger than he was. Eventually he had to subside, lowering himself into the mattress, his muscles as stiff as stone as his eyes surveyed the room around him. Everything seemed normal, just as he'd left it earlier. Panting heavily against Draco's hand, Harry squinted around the room. The curtains were closed now so it was profoundly difficult to make anything out through the gloom. Snatching Draco's hand off his mouth, Harry upright much to the blonde's chagrin.

"How did you get me back up here?" Harry hissed.

"What?" Draco slurred. His voice was low and sluggish, as though he'd just been asleep. He hadn't though –how could he? The moon appeared to be high in the sky. Not much time had passed since Harry had found the underground room under the kitchen.

"How did you get me up here?" he repeated.

With a heavy sigh, Draco forced himself away from the plush pillows and leaned up. He cracked an eye open to look at the dishevelled brunette man beside him. "What in God's name are you prattling on about?"

Draco was silent for a moment. "Harry, neither of us has left this room. You fell asleep on my chest. I don't think I –" a yawn fractured his thoughts. "-I don't think I'd been asleep long. You woke me up."

"But … But I saw –"

"Harry you were having a nightmare. That's why you woke up."

"Don't lie to me!" he snapped. He pressed his forehead to his knees and clamped his hands over his ears. "I know what I saw, Draco! I know you were performing a ritual!"

Draco rolled his sore eyes and grabbed Harry's wrists and jerked them away. Hooking a finger under Harry's jaw he turned the younger man to face him through the gloom. "Harry, it's late. I'm tired. You haven't been sleeping properly for weeks and you're having nightmares from your trauma. You need to rest."

Harry shook his head as he mulled everything over in his head. He'd been in that kitchen several times. He'd never seen any lights of moving panels before –so why would it suddenly appear now? His mind scrambled to try and cling to the –had it really been a nightmare? –but the more rational part of his conscious mind wouldn't let it. "I'm not tired anymore," he murmured.

That was a lie.

He was bone-tired to the point that even moving his facial muscles was causing him distress. He felt the warm weight of Draco's arm snake its way around his chest and draw his body back against the firm chest. A shiver ran down his spine as Harry realised just how cold he was. It was so unfair for it to feel this good and warm and safe in the arms of a man who could probably rip his throat out with his fangs if he so wanted.

The pillow cushioned his head, cradling his head comfortably.

Draco's long, cool fingers threaded through his hair, soothing the aches away that had built up over the last few weeks. He let the blonde man knead and massage the stiff muscles up and down his back, neck and shoulders. Even though Draco was tired, his efforts eventually relaxed Harry to lie down properly, his tense muscles loosening up and his eyelids grow heavy. By the time his hysteria had subsided, he dared to think that he was actually 'comfortable' having Draco pressed firmly up against his back. Sleep numbed his mind and his senses and soon the gloom grew heavier until darkness enveloped him.

The following morning Harry awoke to bright morning sunshine with the curtains thrown open and a heavy fog clouding his mind and making him groggy. He rubbed at his eyes and grabbed his glasses before checking that everything was, in fact, as normal as he'd expected it to be. It was. Despite everything, Harry let out a sigh of relief, feeling lighthearted as he scrambled out of bed and made short work of washing, shaving and getting dressed for the day. He was only in his shirt, trousers and suspenders by the time he skidded to a halt in the dining room doorway with his velveteen slippers.

Draco looked up from the newspaper as Harry slid awkwardly into the chair adjacent to him. "You seem in a better mood," he remarked, as he lowered the paper and took a sip from his teacup.

Harry helped himself to a cup and poured himself some tea. "I wouldn't say a better mood, but I definitely feel as though I've gotten a better amount of sleep."
Draco shook his head and leaned back in his chair. "I'd say I'm glad to hear that, if you hadn't woken me up at two in the morning with your nightmare."

Harry had the decency to look sheepish. "I'm sorry about that. It just –seemed so real."

Draco reached out and gave the younger man's arm a reassuring squeeze. "Don't think on it. We all have nightmares. Even I didn't sleep well when I first moved to London."

"Really?"

"Of course not. How could I? Everything is so noisy all the time. Luckily, Severus kept me company when he wasn't at the hospital."

"Were you and Snape close?" Harry asked, trying to keep his voice light as he ladled some porridge into his bowl.

"We were," Draco nodded. "However we –drifted apart as I got older. My studies kept my busy and his teaching classes and being a fully licensed doctor kept him away from the house all hours of the night. Eventually, he signed the house over to me and got himself a room nearer the hospital."

Ah, so that was why it was a two bedroom house.

"Have you heard from him since he went away?"

Draco shook his head. "No. He's not the sentimental type. If there is some ground-breaking discovery or news, he'll either deliver it in person or I'll be reading a eulogy non-too-soon."

Harry's head snapped up at the mention of a funeral. "Maybe you two should make more time for one another?"

Draco snorted into his coffee. "I don't see that coming to fruition I'm afraid."

"You don't know unless you try."

Narrowing his grey eyes, the blonde man hummed in thought. "I think I'll continue to deprive you of sleep."

"Why is that?"

"You're sickeningly optimistic when you've had more than five hours."

Harry tried to bite back as a smile as they continued to eat breakfast. By the time they'd eaten, Draco wiped his mouth and ordered the plates to be taken away. Harry smiled gratefully up at the maid as she beamed at him. "So what are your plans for the day?" Harry asked.

"I need to head up into town and have a word with some other suppliers. Severus asked me to check in on his stores since apparently the order I got for him last week wasn't sufficient enough." Casting a look over at his companion Draco asked, "How about you? What do you plan on doing?"

"I was going to head into town and meet up with Ron and Hermione for dinner later tonight."

"I'll probably be heading back around the same time, would you like me to meet you?"

Harry shook his head, "I couldn't ask you to go out of your way for me. I shouldn't be back late."

"Well if you need anything let me know before I leave." Draco gave his shoulder one last squeeze before standing up and making his way up to his bedchamber to ready himself for his departure.

When Draco left, they exchanged a brief handshake. As passionate as their nighttime activities were they didn't need to go alerting just how close they were to the house-staff. Harry watched from the staircase window as Draco strode confidently down the street to where his carriage was waiting for him. Raking a hand through his hair, Harry returned to his bedchamber and took all his journals into the study so he could sit down and focus on writing up his notes in a new leather-bound journal to present his findings for Snape. He'd include the erratic, rough-draft one as well but he was sure that having a professional one for when other doctors observed his work –should he ever be lucky to get that sort of privilege.

'You really do like to live in a fantasy world, don't you?' his brain admonished as he leaned back in the stiff-backed chair and stared through the open window.

As he rolled over the events of the previous evening in his mind, a sickening feeling clawed its way to the forefront of his mind. It twisted his heart and knotted his stomach over and over until he had to gasp for air. It was no good. He couldn't focus his mind long enough to do any substantial work on his journal. There was something about that nightmare that felt all too real. He couldn't put his finger on it but –something about it wouldn't leave him alone. Tossing down his quill he stood up from the desk and made up his mind. Enough was enough, he needed answers whether he liked what he found, or not.

Taking the stairs two at a time he made his way to the kitchen.

The breakfast things had been cleaned, dried and stacked already and the maid and butler were off elsewhere in the house doing whatever they did all day. Keeping his ears strained for any approaching footsteps, Harry made his way over to the wall panel. There was a long, narrow table in front of it holding bowls of fruit, a sack of potatoes and half a loaf of bread wrapped in a dishcloth. Had that been there before? Pushing the thought aside, Harry picked up one end of the table and eased it around at an angle so he could access the wall. He pressed against the wall half hoping that the panel would sink in and expose the hidden passageway.

Nothing happened.

He ran his fingernails along the grooves but didn't find any releases. Frowning, he found the panel he was sure he'd pressed on before, but still nothing happened. He pressed as hard as he physically could, but the wall didn't budge. Even knocking on the wall provided nothing. It didn't even sound hollow anymore.

Maybe it had been a dream?

Pulling up a kitchen chair to sink in to, Harry frowned at the panel hoping beyond anything that a light would suddenly start glowing from the groove between the wall and the floor. "I guess I was wrong after-all," he sighed to himself, ran his hands through his messy hair before dragging himself to his feet and replacing the table back against the wall and the utensils and food on top of it. Casting one last look over his shoulder at the wall, Harry resigned himself to working on his findings for the remainder of the day, only taking a break to have some of the chowder the maid made him.

~0~

That night Harry was the first one to arrive at the restaurant. He'd taken some extra time with his appearance that evening; he'd paid to have his hair cut and a professional shave at the barbers shop. He'd used some sort of wax that Draco seemed to favour in his hair to keep it neat and from falling into his eyes. He'd even managed to persuade the housekeeper to let him borrow one of Draco's older, small suits so that he didn't look too out-of-place in the refined restaurant. He couldn't deny he still felt out of his depth. He was surprised that Ron had booked such a place for dinner, but there was nothing that could be done. Hermione was a fine young woman and she deserved the best.

Movement by the entrance drew his attention up from his wine glass. Ron and Hermione were just handing their coats to the young steward, before spotting him and making their way over to the table. Harry smiled at the perfect picture they made; Ron looked well-groomed compared to how he used to look when they'd studied together, even his red hair seemed to glow with a coppery brilliance.

In comparison, Hermione was an angel; her soft caramel coloured hair was curled into shiny ringlets that spiralled down her back and over her shoulders, her warm brown eyes gleamed and her bright blue dress seemed to leech all the colour out of her surroundings.

She was radiant.

"I'm surprised to see you here first," Ron remarked goodnaturedly as he drew out Hermione's chair for her to settle into.

"You and me both," Harry replied. "I had nothing else to do today so I made sure to prepare myself."

"It's good to see you again, Harry," Hermione smiled brightly as she shared a look with Ron. "It feels like ages since we were able to get together like this."

A waiter came over and took their order before bringing over a bottle of white wine.

Once everyone had been poured a glass, Ron turned his attention to his friend. "So, tell me Harry, how have Snape's lectures been since all these grizzly murders have occurred?"

"Ronald!" Hemione hissed, her eyes scanning the occupants of the nearby tables.

"It's okay, darling, all of London and beyond knows of this man. I just want to know how Harry's been fairing when he has to go home in the early hours of the morning when there's no one else about."

"It's actually been okay," Harry placated. "My friend, Draco, does a lot of business in the evenings so when he's able, he accompanies me home."

"Doesn't Draco fear for his own safety?" Hermione asked with an adorable frown.

"Oh, he has a carriage that he has stationed near my place, so that when I'm home safely, all he has to do is walk down the road and get driven home."

"Oh! That's clever of him," Hermione beamed. "Really, it is a wonder Snape even bother's holding his classes during such terrible times."

"Well, Snape is out of town now," Ron stated. "So all his classes are postponed until he returns."

Harry opened his mouth to state that Dr. Slughorn had in fact taken over the night classes, but seeing how his friends deemed him 'safe and sound' for the foreseeable fortnight, he didn't have the heart to shatter their illusion.

Their food arrived and they commenced eating.

By the time their dessert had arrived –Harry had insisted that since they didn't do this as often as they should, they needed to make the most of their evening together –they were all rosey-cheeked and feeling rather merry. Pouring himself another glass of wine, Harry pointed his glass at the happy couple. "So, when should I expect a glossy invitation to your nuptials?" he quirked an eyebrow at them.

Hermione flushed and giggled. Ron went red too, however he also seemed to swell with pride. "Actually, we were thinking of some time in the New Year."

"Really?" Harry felt as though his face were too animated. "When, exactly? I don't want to be tired from these lectures and not able to attend."

"We were thinking of some time in February," Hermione said.

"I shall definitely make sure I have plenty of time off to prepare myself."

"Oh, you have to give a speech as well!" Ron chimed.

"Oh, yes! Harry you must!"

"A speech?" he frowned. "Why?"

"You're going to be my best man of course!" the redhead stated.

Harry felt his jaw drop completely. "Oh my … Ron I'm honoured! Are you sure you think I'm the best person for the job?"

"Of course you are!"

"Harry, we both want you to be involved," Hermione assured him, resting her small hand over his own.

Harry squeezed her own hand in return and clapped Ron on the shoulder with his free hand. "I would sincerely be honoured to be your best man and hope that it will be the happiest day of your lives."

To say that Harry was lighter than air when he left the restaurant later that night, was an understatement. He bade Hermione and Ron a pleasant evening at the bridge, braced himself against the brisk breeze that rippled across the Thames' surface, and tried to focus his mind and vision on the route back to Draco's home. He almost wished he'd taken one of Draco's canes in order to twirl it around with a jaunty little jig to his step. Alas, there was no such 'jig' as the lamplight around him was swallowed up when he stepped into a street of narrower buildings.

At least there'd be a warm bedchamber awaiting him at Draco's.

As he wove his way through the narrow backstreets and houses, he couldn't help but feel apprehension seep into his bones as he missed a step and felt himself step into a momentary nothingness. It caused his heart and stomach to lurch awkwardly. He had to brace himself against a lamppost on order to regain his breathing. Rubbing a hand on the back of his neck, he counted to ten over and over in his head whilst drawing in deep breaths.

"Okay, you're nearly there. Just a few more streets and you'll be safe."

His own advice felt hollow to his own ears, however there was no one around to contradict him.

Straightening up from the lamppost he adjusted his shirt and dinner jacket before making his way along the street. The houses loomed over his head. They seemed to sag inwards under the pressure of the grime that coated them. He couldn't judge the people living in there, though. Up until a month ago he'd been one of them.

'I really want to get home to Draco,' he found himself thinking as the sound of the Thames faded into the distance. 'I really need to feel his arms around me.'

He would never be able to pinpoint the moment when he'd started feeling envious of Ron and Hermione's relationship. It had happened at some point during the meal; he watched how they interacted with one another –how Hermione would place her hand on Ronald's forearm or brush a strand of hair behind his ears, or the way he would kiss the knuckles of her hand affectionately –it all reminded him of the things he would never be able to have with the blonde man. He hadn't even known he'd wanted any of those things until tonight.

Maybe they could have that if Draco gave his housestaff the night off?

Just as he was mulling over that particular possibility, something crashed into his side.

He cried out as he collided with the pavement. The effect of the wine made the sky and street spin out of control. He rolled onto the side and threw up in the gutter. He tried to brace himself up on his forearms but a rough hand grabbed the back of his neck and shoulder.

"Stay down, Harry! Keep still and don't make any sudden noises!"

Harry froze as the pressure disappeared from his shoulder. He tried to keep still, all too aware of how clumsy even breathing felt in that moment. A guttural roar resounded through the black street, sending horror racing down his spine and spiking through the alcoholic haze in his brain.

Who had spoken to him?

How did he know his name?

He didn't recognise the sound of the voice –he barely knew anyone in London.

Rolling onto his back he winced when he realised everything was blurred. He'd lost his glasses. There was the scuffing of feet, yells and the sound of something being struck over and over again. Another howl pierced the white noise buzzing in his ears. It resounded throughout every house and surfed across the Thames. It was like the beast wanted its voice heard all the way from the moon itself!

Harry was frozen to the pavement.

He could just about make out the shapes of a tall man in a black cloak with a cane –or was it a sword? –striking at the tall, greyish brown beast that lunged, leered and snapped its foaming jaws at the newcomer. Was this … the murderer? The maniac? Harry wasn't sure whom he should fear the most!
As slowly as possible, he groped his way blindly across the pavement, sliding himself into a dark alcove. His breathing sounded like gunfire in his own ears. Edging out of the alcove, he ran his hands behind him against the wall as a guide. Panic and sweat fermented through his borrowed suit and the taste of fresh vomit clung to this teeth and tongue.

What a waste of a meal.

The acidic taste of blood and wine pooled around his teeth. His foot caught on a loose cobble and it skittered off out of his bubble of blurred vision. The snarling beast seemed to stop for a moment. Harry's heart stopped. Without thinking, he turned on his heel and ran, completely ignoring the yells that followed him down the street.

"HARRY NO! YOU CAN'T OUTRUN IT!"

That wasn't the scariest thing, however.

The thing that would forever scar him was how close he could feel the beast behind him, almost as though its wet breath steamed against the back of his neck.

And the howl –he'd never forget how his blood curdled at the sound.

That was what his nightmares were made of.

A/N: Oh God another update? Do I ever need to sleep again? Maybe not? Let me know if my insomnia is paying off! Love and hugs x