Yes, it has been a long time. A VERY long time. I have no excuse. I've just been very lazy and haven't been writing nearly as much as I should. I am hoping to get the lead out and start working on all my unfinished fics again, and maybe come up with some new ones. One step at a time.

Disclaimer: There is no way in any shape or form that I own Harry Potter. All credit belongs to J.K. Rowling.

Dreaming of You

Chapter 4: Sleepwalking

Draco's gaze swept over the group gathered around his bed. Harry felt an unpleasant shiver travel down his spine when it passed over him; the eyes were wide and empty, no emotion discernible in their depths.

Then, without warning, they rolled back into Draco's head. Pale arms stiffened, his hands curling into tight, painful fists over the white linen. Harry could see his heartbeat in the pulse point at his throat, it was going that fast. Madam Pomfrey reacted so quickly that by the time Harry even opened his mouth to ask what was going on, she had already cast a few spells and administered a potion that caused Malfoy to relax again, his eyes closed and his heartrate back to normal. She wiped a shaking hand across her damp forehead and let out a shaky sigh.

"I see that he's going to be in for some incredibly difficult times ahead," she whispered, a sad frown pulling at the corners of her mouth. "That was a panic attack, a severe one at that," she added, seeing the question in Harry's face. "I had a strong feeling there would be psychological repercussions after his ordeal – I mean, how could there not? He's a strong boy, but –" She sighed heavily, resting a glassy gaze on the Headmaster. "I just had no idea how severe they would be." Dumbledore placed a gentle hand on her shoulder.

"He'll get through this, Poppy," he said, conviction strong in his voice. "He will just need help, whether he believes he needs it or not." The headmaster was highly aware of this young man's stubborn streak, but he did not want to let it to get in the way of his healing.

"I will certainly do what I can," the nurse responded, drawing herself up and taking a deep, fortifying breath. "I will need help also. This task is too big to take on alone."

"You shall have it, Poppy. There was never any question," Dumbledore muttered, a small, reassuring smile pulling at his beard. He turned toward Harry. "I'm sorry to put additional burden on you, Harry, but I think you could be vital in Mr. Malfoy's recovery. I do not like bringing up the darker aspects of your past, but your paths, past and present, intersect more than you realize." He did not go into detail, and for that Harry was extremely grateful. Still, memories of the graveyard crept to the fore of his mind. He pushed them back before he lost himself in remembrance. Harry gave a brief nod, knowing his curiosity and nosiness were what got him into this mess. There was no escape now.

"I will start meeting with Mr. Malfoy as soon as he is well enough to help fortify his mental defenses," Snape muttered. Harry jumped, forgetting the man was still in the room. "Since he escaped the clutches of his father and the Dark Lord, I believe they will do anything to force their way into his mind to break him permanently, or worse." He paused, tugging at his robe sleeves. His usually pale skin had taken on a sickly pallor. Harry couldn't remember ever seeing the normally stoic professor so discomfited. The unsaid words if they haven't already hung in the brief silence. "Perhaps Mr. Potter could continue his lessons with us to further his usefulness in assisting with Mr. Malfoy's rehabilitation and protection." Harry was pinned by his professor's black gaze. Despite his words sounding like a mere suggestion, the man's tone left no room for argument. Harry swallowed past the uncomfortable lump in his throat and nodded again. What has he gotten himself into?

"Good, good," Dumbledore said. "I suppose there is nothing we can do now but wait. Poppy, if anything changes, please let me and Severus know as soon as possible."

"Of course, headmaster. I will monitor him closely and keep him in a magically-induced slumber for the next several hours. Right before he is due to awaken, I will firecall both of you."

"Excellent. Thank you, Poppy. Please make sure you get as much rest as you can in the meantime. Harry, if you would please return to your dormitory. It is getting late. I will be in contact with you shortly."

Harry nodded and walked briskly out of the room. He broke into a trot as soon as he left the hospital wing. When he reached the seventh floor, he stopped at an alcove to regain his breath and wipe the perspiration from his face. After taking a few deep breaths, he steeled his shoulders and went to face his friends and housemates, thinking of excuses and cover-ups as he went.

Harry awoke rather reluctantly the next morning. The only positive thing he could think of about the day was that it was the end of another school week. He yawned, sitting up and rubbing heavily at his sticky eyes. His sleep was short and shallow, but at least he could not recall having any dreams, good, bad, or awkward. He was plagued by guilt over deceiving his friends regarding his whereabouts, but he was adamant about keeping his promise. He just hated being torn and was looking forward to the day he could come clean, if that day ever came. At least they seemed to buy his story about meeting with Dumbledore about the impending threat of Voldemort. It was something they wouldn't ask too many questions about.

He sighed as he climbed out of bed and got ready for breakfast.

The day went on forever, as Harry suspected it would. He took minimal notes during his lectures and had to be prodded to alertness by Hermione more than a few times. When dinner rolled around he couldn't have been more relieved. It was short-lived, however; a school owl found him in the seventh floor corridor, a letter clamped in its beak. He unrolled it after the bird flew off, not expecting a reply.

"What is it, Harry? Is everything alright?" Hermione asked.

"Dumbledore wishes to see me again," he replied, thankful that at least was the truth. He just couldn't tell them he had to meet him in the hospital wing because Malfoy was finally awake and they all needed to talk. Facing Malfoy after their brief contact yesterday was the last thing he wanted to do. "I'll see you guys in a little while. It shouldn't take too long." He turned and walked away before they could see the mortification in his face.

He knew his friends were worried about him. However, the more he was around them, the closer he was to spilling the truth, and that scared him. He didn't want them being in any more danger than they already were for being close to him. Knowing about Malfoy would surely put them in the path of Voldemort's wrath. He would rather them worry than be involved in this mess. All the same, he knew the day would inevitably come.

When he arrived at the hospital wing, he rested his damp forehead against the cool wood of one of the thick doors, taking strength from its support. After a brief moment's hesitation, he placed a sweaty hand on an icy handle and entered the quiet wing for what felt like the thousandth time that year.

Harry pushed the door to the intensive care room open, being as unobtrusive as possible. He was expected, but that didn't mean he needed to announce his presence. He walked along the row of beds and took the single empty chair next to the window at the end. Dumbledore was seated on the bed next to Malfoy's, and Snape and Madam Pomfrey sat in chairs on either side of Harry. Everyone was silent. Harry, unable to avoid the moment any longer, looked at Malfoy, who was sitting propped up against pillows. His thin hands rested in his lap, the fingers twitching minutely. His eyes were downcast. Harry was sure he knew at least part of what he was feeling; he had wished the floor would open up and swallow him many times in the past. He almost wished it would now.

"Good evening, Harry," Dumbledore said, breaking the silence. Harry saw Malfoy's hands twitch at the sound of his name, but that was the only indication he gave that he was listening. "Thank you for joining us. I explained what we discussed yesterday to Mr. Malfoy, and he is in agreement with what has been suggested." Harry held back a snort; he couldn't help but wonder just how much of a response Malfoy gave to anybody since he awoke. Maybe he knew, like Harry did, that there was no way out of any of it, so he just never said a word.

"We believe it is best to wait until a week from this Monday for Mr. Malfoy to start going to classes, his health situation pending of course," the headmaster continued. "All of the faculty are aware of what happened, and they all agreed, under magical oath, to not say a word about it to anyone who does not already know." He paused, worry pinching the corners of his eyes and mouth. "Professor Snape believes it is in Mr. Malfoy's best interest to stay away from the rest of his house as much as possible. Given what we know about the Death Eaters, several of them have children in Slytherin. We are going to assume that at least a few of them have been warned about Draco's defection and will wish to cause him harm. When he leaves the hospital wing, he will stay in a guarded and heavily warded room somewhere in the castle."

Harry wondered why he was being told all of this, but he supposed it would all eventually be necessary. He was still a bit unsure of his role in Draco's protection; it would hopefully come to light sooner rather than later, although he wished he were far away from it all. Again, he wanted to kick himself for getting involved. Dumbledore was right, however. Malfoy could prove to be a strong ally with inside information from the opposing side, if he ever decided to disclose it.

That was when Dumbledore dropped the bomb.

"You are to stay with him." Harry's heart plummeted to his feet. He opened his mouth to argue, but the headmaster held up a hand to stop him. Harry's jaw snapped shut. "You will have your own room in the same wing, just down the corridor." When he said 'guarded,' Harry supposed this is what he meant. He nodded, feeling mutinous. This just meant more lies to tell his friends. As if reading his thoughts, Dumbledore said, "I suggest you tell Mr. Weasley and Miss Granger that your nightly visions are becoming more severe, like in your fifth year. Tell them you are doing the best you can with your lessons with Professor Snape, but for the time being you don't wish to disturb the rest of your housemates." Out of the corner of his eye, Harry saw Malfoy's head snap up in surprise, his gaze pinning him to his chair. Harry kept his head down, his chest heaving as he seethed. He supposed it was only fair for Dumbledore to give away some of his secrets since he knew some of Malfoy's. When Harry finally looked up again, the other boy was back to studying his lap.

"As for Mr. Malfoy, his reason for having his own room will be his being Head Boy. I will offer Miss Granger her own room to keep others from muttering about preferential treatment and from unwanted questions arising. I'm sure certain Slytherins will figure out the real reason behind it, but opening their mouths will only incriminate them and their parents."

Harry was astounded by how much thought Dumbledore put into this, but that man's mind was quick and thorough. He shouldn't have expected anything less. That didn't mean he had to be happy about his situation, though…

"We will just have to give Mr. Malfoy time to think of why he is late to school this year."

Silence fell for a moment, filled only with the sound of breathing and creaking chairs.

"I have a sick great aunt on the Continent." Harry's head snapped up when he heard the voice, raspy from disuse. Malfoy still refused to raise his head, talking only to his hands. "She's distantly related, but close enough to be considered family. I was visiting her for a month or so to help her get better."

Dumbledore gave Malfoy an appraising look before nodding, a pleased smile on his face. "Thank you, Mr. Malfoy. I will leave you to embellish the story as you see fit, of course, as the need arises. Hopefully it does not."

"I believe everything is as settled as it can be for the time being," he continued, getting to his feet. "Professor Snape, any closing remarks?" Harry turned to look at the professor next to him.

"Yes, actually. Your Occlumency lessons are to begin in a few days' time. Please prepare your minds as much as you can between now and then. Don't allow yourself to be subject to utter failure." Harry scowled darkly, just knowing that last bit was aimed at him. He bit his tongue to keep from lashing out.

The headmaster nodded and dismissed Harry, who hightailed it out of there as fast as he could without running. He wanted to put as much space as he could between him and the oppressive tension in that hospital room. It was all becoming too much. It was only a matter of time before his spine snapped under the weight of the burden on his shoulders. All the same, he hurried on with his chin up, preparing the words he would say to Ron and Hermione about his upcoming change in residence.

They took it quite well, Harry thought as he got ready for bed. There weren't too many questions, just worried looks (which were bad in their own right, especially since they were mingled with pity). He was beginning to think this whole charade could be pulled off, for a while at least. As much as he hated deception, he knew it was required for this sensitive yet dangerous situation. He really did go looking for trouble…

With a brief shake of his head and a quick "'night" to his dorm mates, Harry climbed into bed and fell asleep.

The corridors were silent, save for the sound of quickly shuffling feet and gasping. Moonlight shone through the windows, soaking everything in silver. Fear urged him on. He knew he was being chased, yet Harry could not look behind him.

He reached the end of the corridor, a door barring his path. He went to reach for the handle to go on, his heart thumping madly, but his body would not respond. He opened his mouth to yell, but nothing happened. It took him a moment to realize that he was not in control.

Finally, a hand reached out to touch the door.

It wasn't Harry's.

The startling realization brought Harry to wakefulness. He gasped for breath, feeling disoriented. He looked at his hands, turning them over, making sure they were his own. His heart still pounding, he reached for his wand and Summoned his map, dread building up into a tidal wave inside him.

"I solemnly swear that I am up to no good." He hurriedly whispered the words, waiting impatiently as the map revealed itself. His eyes darted to the hospital wing.

The tidal wave crashed.

Malfoy wasn't there.

His legs flew over the side of his bed of his own accord, his bare feet coming to rest on the freezing stone floor. He picked up his wand and, still holding the map, snuck out of the dormitory. The common room was empty, the dying fire throwing eerie shadows into the corners. He whispered an apology to the Fat Lady as he pushed open her portrait. Once in the corridor, Harry stood under a window, using the moonlight to locate Malfoy on the map. It was a slight relief that most of the castle's occupants were in bed; locating the wayward Slytherin wasn't as difficult as it could have been. Harry finally spotted him on the fifth floor.

He set off at a quiet run, checking the map at regular intervals to check Malfoy's location (and to make sure he didn't run into Mr. Filch or Mrs. Norris).

Once he reached the bottom of the staircase on the fifth floor, Harry checked the map again. Malfoy was moving slowly toward him. Harry hurried on.

When he was finally in sight, Harry felt he could breathe properly again. However, the relief didn't last long. The look on Malfoy's face was utter panic. Harry reached out to grab his shoulder, but he quickly learned that that was a mistake. Malfoy gave a strangled yell and lashed out. Despite the weeks spent in bed, the other boy was strong. His fist connected with the side of Harry's head, dazing him. He righted his glasses and reached for both of Malfoy's wrists. The other boy just made an attempt to kick and bite. Before the noise attracted any unwanted attention, Harry kicked Malfoy's feet out from under him, knocking him to the floor. The impact dazed him. Harry took advantage of the moment and pinned him to the cold stones. Once he finally got a good look at Malfoy's face, his breath froze in his throat. His face was still set in panic, his mouth hanging open in a silent scream. But his eyes… his eyes were utterly empty. There was no recognition of who he was currently facing. He was stuck in his mind, in his…

Realization hit Harry like Malfoy's fist.

His nightmares.

Malfoy was sleepwalking.

Once he made sure he had the other boy's wrists secure in his left hand, he used his right to poke and prod. "Wake up!" he hissed, to no avail. He then used his wand to spray a mist of cold water on Malfoy's face. The Slytherin shuddered, his eyes blinking rapidly before focusing. He took in his surroundings first, then realized he couldn't move. Panic set in. He kicked out, his feet connecting painfully with Harry's abdomen. He coughed, clutching his middle, as he fell to the side. Malfoy scuttled backwards until he hit the wall, his hands scrabbling at the stones.

"Malfoy, stop! It's me!" He wasn't sure what kind of consolation that would be, but it seemed to help. The panic ebbed away, only to be replaced by defeat. All of the fight went out of Malfoy's body like a candle in a gust of wind. He slumped to the floor and curled himself into tight ball, his breath coming out in ragged gasps.

"How did I get here?" he moaned. "Am I losing my mind?"

"You were sleepwalking," Harry whispered, rubbing at his head. His hand came away with a little bit of blood. He turned quickly at the sound of a door creaking. Snape, Dumbledore, and Madam Pomfrey were hurrying down the corridor toward them. Harry heaved a sigh of relief. He got to his feet, his head swimming slightly.

"What on earth –" the nurse started, taking in the scene. Words escaped her. She and Snape bent over Malfoy, trying to coax him to his feet.

"How did you find us?" Harry asked Dumbledore. The headmaster winked.

"I have my ways, just like you certainly have yours." His blue eyes darted so quickly toward the forgotten map on the floor that Harry was sure he was imagining it. Dumbledore then quickly became serious. He placed his hand under Harry's elbow once he saw the boy was swaying on his feet. His eyes widened at the sight of the blood running down the side of his face. "Please tell me what happened, Mr. Potter."

Harry explained the "dream," how he was seeing through Malfoy's eyes and the utter panic he felt while sharing it. He told him he didn't realize Malfoy was sleepwalking until he'd already found him. He told him about the fight, how he had to subdue the other boy in order to wake him up, and the reaction Malfoy had afterwards. Dumbledore pinned him with his sharp gaze.

"We are so very lucky that no one else crossed his path. This situation could have ended quite badly. It seems like Madam Pomfrey will have to place additional wards around Mr. Malfoy's bed while he is in the hospital wing. I have a strong feeling this will not be a one-time occurrence." He paused. Harry had a feeling he didn't want to hear what was coming next. "And it seems like we have an interesting situation on our hands. Judging by what occurred tonight, I am beginning to suspect that you are still tethered to Mr. Malfoy's mind…"

Harry didn't hear anything after that. His knees gave out, forcing him to fall heavily against the stone wall. He willed the floor to open so he could disappear forever.

It didn't happen.

I'm sorry if this felt like a filler chapter. I felt the need to build up the story and explain things now, rather than having to backtrack and fill plot holes later.

More interesting things are to come.

TBC (hopefully soon!)