Warnings at the end.

"Harry."

Harry doesn't look up and continues marking the stack of parchment on his lap. "Yeah?"

"It's four in the morning. You have classes tomorrow. Well, today. In five hours, actually."

Minerva is working on getting him a room, but until then he's staying with me. While I'm more than happy to share the room with him, I'm missing my favourite sofa. Harry has claimed it as his own and will not move, stretching his legs out and taking up all available space. I'm determined to have my own special brand of revenge when his room is ready, but until then the Boy Who Steals Sofas shall remain.

"Yeah?"

I huff in frustration, shooting him an unimpressed look he doesn't see. "This isn't healthy, Harry. You need to sleep!"

"If I could sleep, do you think I'd be grading the first years' essays on magical theory? If this can't send me to sleep, nothing will."

"Why won't you take the dreamless sleep potion? Just until you feel better, please. You'll make yourself sick like this."

Harry looks up then, tired-eyed and miserable. "Audrey, I said no."

"Help me understand," I try, sitting next to him. "Did you take a bad potion once? I'm good at my job, I promise. I won't poison you."

He sighs, rubbing his eyes. "I trust your potion making, that's not… I don't know what you want me to say."

"If you're nervous, it's harmless in regulated doses. It's just that I'm worried about you. You're one of my best friends, Harry, and I want to help you. But I won't push, if you're really sure."

Harry hesitates for a few moments, pulling at the threads in the blanket. Then, he sighs. "I know it's harmless in regulated doses. But I've never… I've never taken dreamless sleep in regulated doses."

It takes a moment for me to realise what he's saying, but when I do my heart might as well have fallen out of my chest. "Oh, Harry."

He can't look at me, mouth a thin line.

After the war, many witches and wizards who had been touched by the conflict resorted to potions and self-help spells to help them deal with the trauma.

Dreamless sleep potions had been among the most popular; afraid of the night-terrors returning, some people never stop taking it and find their tolerance to the potion increasing. Too far over the recommended dose too often and it's all too easy to become addicted.

It's seen as horribly shameful in some wizarding families to be an addict, so it's not totally uncommon to hear of people who don't get help. People who sleep a little too much and a little too long; people who mix it in with their morning coffee in small amounts to fend off the shakes, but barely able to stay awake for the rest of the day.

Worst case scenario, people who go to sleep at night and never wake up again.

It makes sense, for Harry to be the kind of person to resort to sleeping potions. He'd experienced trauma and loss for most of his schooling career and, if the rumours are to be believed, most of his pre-Hogwarts years too. His nightmares in his fifth year had been well-known; of course he would use Dreamless Sleep.

That I'm so surprised by this makes me feel ashamed; even now, in some instances, I still see the Golden Boy I'd so admired in school.

"I took it the first time the night Voldemort came back at the Triwizard tournament," he says quietly. "It helped. I'd not really thought about it again until after the Battle of Hogwarts, you know? And it just kind of… spiralled. It took a long time to get off it."

"I'm sorry Harry. I-I shouldn't have pushed." Even if he'd have given in and taken some, it wouldn't have worked. His immunity would be too high.

"You didn't know, it's okay. Apart from Ginny and some of the healers at St Mungo's, nobody does. I don't think she realised how bad it was either until I didn't wake up one morning."

My heart sinks. "Oh Harry."

"But I'm fine now," he says, with forced cheer. "A fully functioning insomniac, but doing alright." Then, more gently. "I'll be fine soon. You don't have to worry about me."

Realising that I'm not going to be able to do much more for him, I concede defeat. "Somebody has to."

Harry smiles, raising the papers in his hand at me hopefully. "Fancy marking some magical theory work with me?"

I roll my eyes, drawing my night-robe around myself and taking myself back to my bed. "Not feeling that sorry for you Potter. Do your own work."

He laughs.

Hope you like this one! Warning for mentions of past addiction.

Substance abuse after trauma is common; I imagine the wizarding world is no different.

Let me know what you think in the reviews! Hope you are all well.