Title: Vinculum

Date: July 16, 2004

By: NinjaBubble (L. King)

Warnings: SPOILERS (for #5 – Order of the Phoenix)

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Relinquish

Harry's dreams did not get any better after Christmas. He found himself waking everyday, either screaming or struggling too hard for breath to utter any words. More often than not his face was wet with tears, but he couldn't bring himself to cry while he was awake, it meant that he had to face it all for real, that the possibilities were there. The dreams had moved from the sickening version of the night of Sirius's death re-lived; to anything from Voldermort bursting into Hogwarts and killing everyone, ripping their limbs apart, pealing off their skin, using Avada Kadavra; to Death Eaters bursting into the Burrow when Harry and Hermione stayed with the Weasleys; to the entire group of the Order being ambushed and slaughtered; to Voldermort coming into the Dursley's house, despite its protective magic, and shouting out an endless Crucio curse.

He tried not to sleep at night. He would crawl into bed and turn his back to Malfoy and stare across the room until he heard the other boy slide into the world of his own dreams before sitting up and trying to quietly keep himself busy and awake. His head hurt constantly, and he could only assume it was from lack of sleep, reading so much at night, and the dull ache that seemed to plague is scar. A constant state of exhaustion kept him from doing occlumency before he slept, and kept his angry retorts pathetically dull and slow. Malfoy, seeming to sense the lack of will behind his adversary and the damper it put to their fighting, had become increasingly quiet, his sneers almost dying down completely. Even when Harry fell asleep at the table in the middle of their meals and woke suddenly, Malfoy would say nothing, eating as though he didn't notice.

It was amazing how grateful Harry felt for the other's fallen silence. He barely had the energy to get around the school for their mundane tasks that they did, much less get in rows with Malfoy constantly. He sent owls to Ron and Hermione to make sure that they didn't worry about him, but the letters were short and he knew they sounded hollow. Ever since Sirius's death he had felt himself distanced from them, or maybe he had done it to himself, and he hoped they just took the emptiness as being that.

The days slid by and Harry couldn't tell whether the vacation had been a blur, or gone by agonizingly slowly. Two days before the vacation was to end, the day before students would start coming back to school, Harry and Malfoy were sitting in the Slytherin common. Malfoy was playing wizard's chest against a jinxed board, and Harry was trying not to fall asleep. The portrait opened and Malfoy looked up, but Harry didn't stir, he had finally fallen asleep. It was Snape who entered, his eyes landing first on Harry, and furrowing, and then on Malfoy. He approached the second boy quickly, not bothering to wake the Gryffindor up. "Dumbledore was called away on an emergency Ministry call, he had to leave this morning, and you didn't show up to breakfast..."

"You mean were stuck like this?" Malfoy asked. He realized that he didn't sound as disgusted as he should be and hoped that Snape hadn't caught it.

He hadn't. "He said that you were both doing very well and he reversed the spell before he left. McGonagall and I would have told you at lunch, but it seemed we missed you there as well. I thought you would rather know sooner than later however." His cold eyes flickered to Harry before going back to Malfoy. "You can tell Potter whenever you want." He paused to look around the common before once again addressing the Slytherin student. "That was all Malfoy. It's a shame that your Christmas had to be spent in such a way." He glared once more at the sleeping, and slightly twitching Harry, before briskly leaving the common room and exiting the Slytherin house.

Malfoy looked over at the raven-haired boy who had fallen asleep in the large chair closest to the one he sat in. Every night he woke up to Harry thrashing in the bed next to him; he would listen to the Gryffindor boy cry out, and eventually wake with a start that was often accompanied by a scream of agonizing terror as well. The dreams, scratch that, nightmares, had become worse after Christmas. That's when the screaming had started. He had to admit, though completely and privately to himself, that it was a relief to see the other teen sleeping peacefully, even if it only lasted a few minutes, seeing as Harry had taken to staying up at night as well. It had been hard not to notice the light that would flicker on right as he began to fall asleep as Harry started some late night activity. Malfoy couldn't help but wonder if the stories had been al that far off when they said Harry Potter was mentally unstable. It seemed it would be impossible not to be with nightmares like his.

Each morning the Gryffindor looked worse, more run down and exhausted, his brilliant green eyes had become faded and dull. When Harry's verbal fights had simmered down to murmured 'shut up's, Malfoy had started to back off. It was true that he had once held his father as an icon of everything he wanted to be and treated other people in imitation of how his father would, but as of the year prior, when he had been caught and sent to Azkaban he had fallen from the pedestal that he had been on. Malfoy had known his father was a Death Eater, he had been brought up learning the power of the Dark Lord and taught that he was the greatest man alive. However, he had never known if he was truly as dedicated to the Dark Lord as he was his father, and the years in Hogwarts had made him even less sure of exactly who he was dedicated to and the truth or lies behind each icon.

Many times Malfoy tried to speak to Snape during the first few years at Hogwarts, of the potions professor's experiences with the Dark Lord; but it had not been until his father was sent to Azkaban and Malfoy took the time to speak much more privately with Snape that the man told him more. The discussions had turned Malfoy even further away from the Dark Lord, especially when he learned that, since joining Dumbledore, Snape never even considered going back into servitude again. Spending the whole of Christmas vacation with Harry and just listening to what his nightmares did to him slashed what could have been left of his praises of Voldermort.

Malfoy inspected Harry's wild raven hair that had seemed to become even more unruly with lack of sleep and added strain that his nightmares were obviously putting on him, the other had bags that looked like dark bruises under each eye, and his skin was sallow. As he watched, Harry started to fidget, sweat started to break out on his face and neck, his eyes squeezed shut. Unable to stand witnessing another nightmare, the Slytherin stood and walked over; he put a hand on Harry's shoulder and shook the other teen. "Wake up Potter."

Dying green eyes snapped open and darted around wildly, a disturbingly prominent fear flashed through his eyes and face before it flickered away and he realized who was standing in front of him, he calmed quickly. "What do you want Malfoy?" His voice was heavy with exhaustion, and his gaze went to the hand on his shoulder.

"I was waking you up," Malfoy explained, having to add exasperation to his voice as he quickly withdrew his hand. "Dumbledore left this morning and reversed the spell."

Harry blinked slowly at Malfoy, as though he didn't understand what the other had said and then nodded, just as slowly. "Alright," he muttered, pushing himself from the chair and brushing past Malfoy as he moved to the room they slept in to grab his things that were there before going off to his own house.

Malfoy found himself feeling a perturbing feeling of loss while he watched the other come back into the room and push his way out of the portrait and out into the hall without even saying a grumbled 'good bye' before leaving. He snorted at himself for being so ridiculous and returned to his chess game. What was the matter with him? He should have been bursting with delight at the fact that he was away from the other teen. Shaking his head he forced himself to focus on his game.

- - - - -

Harry felt oddly alone as he stumbled through the halls toward the Gryffindor tower. He hadn't noticed how use he had gotten to having Malfoy around until he found it distressingly silent without the other's footsteps padding along side his own. Tiredly he thought back on the time that they had spent together and realized, for the first time it seemed, that they had stopped fighting somewhere along the way. How had Dumbledore known that it would work, sticking them next to each other for some two weeks or so? He thought back and another detail dawned on him. The fact that they had really settled down after Christmas. After his nightmares had started to become worse; after he started screaming himself awake. But Malfoy had never woken up.

Dimly he felt like the biggest idiot ever. How could Malfoy have not woken up? Ron woke up when Harry was just muttering in his sleep, and he had thought Malfoy could sleep through shouts? He had probably just wanted to believe that far more than actually facing what was realistic, even now he didn't want to think about the taunts that Malfoy would start up once the vacation ended. Of course, the only reason he stopped was because it was the only way to get Dumbledore to think they were ready to have the spell lifted and allow them to get on with their own lives.

He didn't remember the walk up to Gryffindor tower, nor did he remember muttering the password and stumbling up to his bed where he promptly threw himself and fell asleep, falling into unconsciousness before his head even hit the pillow. Pure exhaustion allowed for several hours of solid, death- like sleep, black and dreamless. However, as his mind became rested, the nightmares came.

Hagrid called out a 'good-bye' as Harry left the hut, invisibility cloak pulling safely around his body. The door shut behind him, leaving the only lights coming from through the windows of the hut and from Hogwarts. It was just enough to make his way back to the school, like it always was, but he did not automatically turn and go back up to the school. Something rustled on the boarder of the forest and Harry turned to face it. The rustling stopped, and for what must have been a full minute there was silence. There was another rustle and Harry finally made out the shape of a large black dog, his heart clenched and the dog turned and raced into the forest. He didn't hesitate a moment before plowing after Sirius, happiness bursting in his chest like nothing he had ever felt in his life before. He followed the sounds of the dog deep into the forest, not caring that he didn't know where he was going or how to get back, the only thing that mattered was getting to Sirius.

The sounds ahead stopped as soon as Harry burst into a small clearing. He walked forward a few feet and stopped when he saw Ron, Hermione, Dumbledore, the Weasleys hung with nooses tight around their bruised necks, he turned in a circle in place, gaze landing on Lupin, Mad Eye, Tonks, Neville, Seamus, Dean, and Cho all hanging. Anybody he remotely cared about. Returning to his original position he stared directly across the clearing and saw the large black dog that was Sirius had been gutted and his skin was on a stretcher, drying, its hollow sockets gaped at Harry as though asking why. The clearing shimmered in a liquid glow. Horrified, Harry moved forward and bent down to touch the ground. When he lifted his hand it was covered in blood. He looked up and saw each of his friends who had previously been hanging were also gutted, it was their blood that surrounded him. A familiar, low, sadistic laughter filled his ears. Screaming soon rose over the laughter.

Harry woke up to the scream, his mouth hanging open, throat parched raw. His stomach twisted sickeningly and he stumbled up out of bed and got about a meter from his bed before he bent over and vomited until he had nothing left in his stomach. Unable to make himself move, he bent down to a crouch, arms loosely wrapped around his knees, the revolting taste of vomit lingering in his mouth, and the nauseating smell rushing in his nose with every jagged breath. His clothes were stuck to him with drying sweat, and he shivered almost violently.

Loud pounding that sounded like footsteps rushed up the stairs, which was odd because nobody else was there, and suddenly Ron burst into the room, face red, breathing hard; his eyes widened in shock at what he saw. "Oh Merlin mate," he said, voice low as he rushed over. "What happened? I heard you screaming when I came in," he explained, moving around the mess on the floor and putting his hands on Harry's shoulders to help him to his feet, his brows were furrowed in concern.

"Nothing..." Harry breathed, voice hoarse. He glanced at Ron who settled him with something close to a glare and he sighed and finally answered. "Nightmare."

Ron shook his head gravely. "Come on, let's get you to Madam Pomfrey," he said, starting them toward the door.

The shorter teen didn't move. "No. I'm fine," he said, trying to pull back, even though he felt he might fall without the other's support. The red-head settled him with another flat look, he had become far bolder over the summer and the beginning of their sixth year, it was surprising and had started to get him a lot of attention from the girls. "Really Ron. I just...I just need to wake myself up."

"You look like you've been awake for days Harry. What's been going on?" He asked, but he did stop trying to drag his friend out the door and instead helped Harry to his bed where he sat down heavily. Turning to the mess on the floor he took out his wand and shortly cleaned it up before turning back to Harry. "Hm?" He pressed.

Harry shook his head. "Ron, please. I...I don't want to talk about it."

"Do you remember the last time you threw up when you had a dream? Don't you think you should talk to somebody at least?" The standing Gryffindor demanded, he sounded so similar to Hermione and Harry couldn't help but wonder exactly how much time they were spending together when Harry wasn't around.

"This is different. It's not him, Ron. Voldermort's not making me dream things anymore," he assured, not that he really knew. He couldn't remember the last time he had done occlumency before he had gone to bed, he was too exhausted to do it, he fell asleep without time enough before to do anything. Besides, there was far too much that he was thinking about, he doubted he would have been able to do it if he took half his thoughts from his mind. "Just let it go. Please?"

There must have been something in the way that Harry asked, because Ron did not press the matter any further, he just sighed. "You really do look like you haven't been sleeping. Why don't you go back to bed?" He suggested. "The others are down at dinner, I came up early to find you. I'll tell Hermione that you're sleeping and not to bother you. How does that sound?" He asked, smiling at the waxen teen.

Harry nodded after a moment, it seemed to have taken him a long time to register what Ron had been saying. Without a doubt Hermione would be told a whole lot more than Harry was just sleeping. He would have to build himself up for a lecture from the girl when he finally saw her. "No, I'll go down to dinner," he said, looking back up at the other. His stomach growled as though to prove he wanted and needed something to eat. He was pushing himself from the bed to stand when something suddenly struck him. He had slept for more than a full twenty-four hours. Just how tired had he been?

After changing into clean clothes quickly and throwing some cold water on his face to wake himself up and, with hope, make him look more alive, Harry met Ron in the common room and they made their way to the hall to eat. The hall was full of students and noise, all talking about what they had done over their winter breaks. Harry suddenly remembered the fact that there had been Christmas and turned to Ron, giving a smile he didn't know where he pulled from, he thanked the other for his gift. "It's really neat. Going to sit right next to my bed so that I can always keep an eye on everybody," he said, trying to get his cheer up before he sat down with all the other Gryffindors.

Ron beamed. "Yeah, I did it by myself for the most part. Mum helped me with a little bit of it, but not much. You're always staring at ours and I thought you'd like it."

When they sat down at the Gryffindor table Hermione and Ron were on Harry's left, Neville on his right. Everybody started talking quickly, welcoming Harry and asking him how Christmas had been at the school. He smiled, though his eyes were still as dull as fake planets, and told them that everything had gone by wonderfully, that the hall had been beautiful like always, and asked them in turn about their vacations.

As they answered, Hermione going off first, Harry ate slowly, eyes bobbing around the hall. He saw some Slytherins talking to the two younger years who had stayed behind, they were turning to look at Harry and Malfoy and whispering furiously. Well, that story was out in the open then. The two Ravenclaws who had stayed were doing the same thing.

At one point he caught Malfoy's silver eyes and they held for a few moments, Malfoy neither sneering or looking menacing, if anything he almost looked curious. Harry was the first to look away when Hermione asked briskly if he was listening. He looked at her and nodded, his fork stopping halfway to his mouth and falling back to his plate when an image of her gutted and cleaned flashed through his mind. It was all he could do to stay at the table and not vomit, and somehow he even managed to act interested in their vacations as well.

tbc...

Note: No need to worry, the title is still in effect.