*** Day 128 - Harry ***

Something had changed.

Harry didn't now what exactly it was, but it was…something. He stared down at Draco, who was sleeping restlessly next to him. The skin beneath his eyes was blue from exhaustion. He'd been having nightmares. Both of them had.

Draco would never talk about his, but Harry had been able to…catch glimpses. A dark room with a red carpet. Snape's voice, cold and scolding. Fingers slipping, wet with blood.

Fear was a demon that Harry was well acquainted with. He'd seen its face so many times now that it was as familiar to him as his own. Over the years, he'd been taught how to deal with fear—how to fight it. Somehow, he doubted that Draco had the same advantage.

He understood why Draco was scared. He understood why, despite everything that had grown between them, Draco wanted him to leave. And, of course, Harry knew that his reasons for staying were selfish. He knew that all he really wanted was just a little longer of this. These warm, sunlit mornings, far away from the outside world that was threatening to boil over. If only he could make Draco understand that. If only he could get him to accept that this could only end one way.

Harry wasn't afraid to die. He wasn't sure if he'd ever really been afraid of death, but that didn't mean he was ready to meet it. Not yet.

If anything, he was afraid that death wouldn't be able to find him when he was ready, as his dreams were so apt to remind him. Most of the time he was back in the dungeons, trapped behind bars. If he was lucky, he'd be alone, with nothing but the sound of his own screams echoing down the corridors. But sometimes he wasn't alone. Sometimes Voldemort would be there too, pacing in front of the bars and dragging the Elder Wand along them like a child with a stick.

"You're all alone here," he'd say. "So very alone and so very safe."

"No."

"No one will ever find you. I'm the only one who knows you're here. You're mine now."

"No!"

"Yes. You're mine. My lovely, precious soul."

The memory of it alone made Harry shudder. He couldn't bear to think of it. And if, by chance, those dreams were not actually his own…

Harry shook the notion away. There was no way that Voldemort was aware that he knew he was a Horcrux. Surely. Despite the Occlumency barriers that Voldemort had built around his mind, Harry would've felt something from him. He looked down at Draco and felt warmth settle over the fluttering nerves in his stomach. The blond boy stirred against him, his lashes fluttering open to reveal the glittering grey of his eyes.

I open at the close.

Just a bit longer. They still had time.