Draco's dreaming of the astronomy tower again. He's stuck, staring at Professor Dumbledore, unable to run away, but also unable to do what he came here to do. And Dumbledore is looking at him with those kind eyes, and telling him he's not a bad person, while all he can do is yell that yes he is an awful person. That he's been trying to kill Dumbledore all year because he's a coward and he doesn't want the dark lord to kill him.

"It's ok," Dumbledore says. "You're no killer, Draco."

"Yes, I am," Draco tries to yell, but no sound comes out, like he's been placed under a silencing spell. "Yes, I am."

And then Potter's there, shaking him.

This is new. This hasn't happened in this nightmare before. He starts crying because Potter's just going to make it worse. He hadn't thought this nightmare could get any worse, but here Potter is, to judge him and make him loathe himself even more. Potter's face freezes in panic at the sight of his tears.

"Uh, it's ok, Malfoy," he says. His hand is still on Draco's shoulder. And, oh hell. He's actually here.

Potter's kneeling on Draco's bed, which means he must have woken Draco up, which means Draco had been screaming. This makes Draco cry harder, partly out of shame and partly out of relief. Shame because he's crying where someone can see him; relief because he's awake not and alone.

"Sorry," Draco snuffles, as soon as he can get a word in through his sobs. "I'm so sorry." Potter has been kneeling, but now shifts his weight so that he's sitting opposite Draco in the bed. He lets his hand drop from Draco's shoulder and Draco wants to reach out and take it, just to tell himself that this is real and that he is awake. But he thinks that would be strange, so he doesn't.

"There's nothing to be sorry about," Potter says, echoing Draco's words from the other night. "As you know, I have nightmares too." Potter gives him a humorless smile. Draco hiccups and nods.

"I know. I'm sorry for crying." Draco reaches up and wipes the tears off of his cheeks with the back of his hand.

"Don't be," Potter says. "There's no shame in crying." For some reason this makes Draco cry harder. He feels the bed shift and suddenly Potter's arms are around him, half pulling Draco into his lap. Draco shifts so that he can wrap his arms around Potter's torso and presses himself against Potter's chest. It's only then that he realizes Potter is shirtless. But he's already here, so he just clutches at Potter and sobs, while Potter strokes small, soothing circles on his back.

It takes a while, but slowly Draco comes back to himself. Being in Harry's arms helps. Possibly because it's such a new experience for him.

For one thing, his scent is intoxicating. He smells of citrus and bergamot and something else that Draco can't quite put his finger on. Draco breathes it in as he leans in. He lets it wash over him and soothe his senses.

He can't believe this is happening. He knows it's only happening because of the alcohol, and the nightmare, and the crying; otherwise Potter would never let him get this close. But here he is, in Potter's arms. Crying, yes, but still the closeness of him is nice.

Because in Draco's tired and still intoxicated mind, he is realizing this is what he actually wants. And oh, that knowledge hurts because he knows it will never happen. It can't ever happen. And it's so unfair, Draco thinks as he breathes in Harry's scent and it turns his thoughts to mush.

He nestles his head into the place where Potter's neck meets his shoulders and Draco's not sure but he thinks he might hear Potter sigh. But that can't be right, can it?

He tips his head slightly back and his nose traces a line up Potter's throat. And this time he hears it. The slight hitch in Potter's breathing. And oh, Merlin. Is there a chance? Really? That Potter might feel the same way? Draco barely dares breathe as he presses himself closer to Potter, shifting so that his head comes up and presses against Potter's cheek. He feels Potter's hand come up and press on the back of his head, feels Potter's fingers tangle in his hair and he bites his lip.

There are still fresh tears on his face, and they stain Potter's skin now too.

"Draco," Potter whispers. And oh god, Potter's used his name again.

"Yes?" he asks, his voice is shaky. Potter is silent for a long time before he asks,

"Are you starting to feel better?"

"Yes," Draco breathes. "Thank you."

"Did you want to talk about it? The nightmare?"

Draco shakes his head and pushes himself off of Potter's chest and turns until he's sitting next to him again. They're still close and Draco resists reaching out for more contact with Potter. Instead, he clasps his hands together in his lap and looks down at them. They look pale in the moonlight that's streaming in from the gap that Draco likes to leave in his curtains so that the room is never fully dark. They sit in silence for what feels like minutes, though Draco can't quite tell the time. Potter keeps looking at him. Draco can see the movement of his head in his peripheral vision. But he doesn't make a move to leave.

"Thank you," Draco says once he feels calm again.

"For what?"

"Waking me up. Sitting with me." Sitting is an understatement.

"You did the same for me," Potter says with a small shrug.

"Still." Draco turns his head and meets Harry's gaze. "Thank you." It's hard to see in the limited light, but Draco thinks he sees him blush.

"Do you need me to stay?" Potter asks. Draco shakes his head slowly. Potter nods once, quick and decisively. Then he starts to move off the bed. Draco makes a split second decision that he hopes he won't regret in the morning. He reaches out and grabs Potter's arm.

"Actually," he says. "Can you stay until I'm asleep. I feel… safer with you around." Draco chews on his lower lip and looks anywhere but at Potter.

"Sure," Potter says. He shuffles until he's back sitting next to Draco, leaning against the headboard. Draco lays back down, resting his head on the pillow next to where Potter is sitting. He can feel Potter there. He's a comforting presence, even if Draco's head is facing the other way. With Potter there, it only takes Draco a few minutes to fall back into a thankfully dreamless sleep.

…

Draco wakes the next morning to find that Potter is in his bed. And not only is Potter in his bed, but he's lying right next to Draco. For a minute he's confused but then he remembers the nightmare. And Potter waking him up. The memory is the fuzzy memory of sleep disrupted but the main facts stand out. Potter had held him while Draco cried into his shoulder and then had agreed to stay until Draco was asleep again.

But now he needs to figure out what to do about the fact that Potter is in his bed. And on top of that Potter is in his bed still shirtless.

But really, why is Potter here? Draco supposes he must have fallen asleep while he was sitting watching Draco fall asleep, and then had just slid down the head board, or some such thing.

Potter shifts in his sleep and turns until he's pressed right up next to Draco. Draco barely dares breathe. But he refuses to die from asphyxiation due to being scared of waking Potter. So he tries his best to breathe quietly through his nose, even as his heart rate starts to pick up, just at the closeness of the other man.

Oh fuck. This is no good. No good at all. Draco can't afford to fall for Potter. Potter might not hate him the way he used to — they are on speaking terms now — but there's no way Potter's ever going to like him back. Not the way Draco would want him to.

Oh, damn it all to hell. Scowling, he closes his eyes again.

He must fall back asleep, because when he blinks his eyes open again, his left arm is around Potter's torso. Potter's shirtless torso. And he must be still half asleep because his first reaction is to snuggle closer.

By the time he wakes up properly, Potter is gone.