Seven minutes later, Draco was sorely regretting every decision he had made since receiving the blasted letter from Hermione. Potter was livid, and in a strange state. He was still asleep, but he was apparently reliving the fighting of the war. Draco, Ron and Hermione were dodging every curse and hex thought of by wizardkind, and their Shield spells were barely holding up against the onslaught of unconscious magic. The only reason Draco had not already cursed the Boy Wonder into a coma was because he could barely find a moment to pause and catch his breath, let alone turn and aim a curse properly. Somehow he suspected the curse would be deflected anyway.
"And this is going to go on for as long as he's asleep?" Draco shouted as he barely ducked a Stunner.
"I'm afraid so!" Hermione yelled back. A gash on her arm suddenly appeared when a Sectumsempra spell zinged past her. Draco shuddered, unconsciously putting a hand on his chest. She gave him an oddly sympathetic look, and then winced as a spell shattered a vase on the table next to her, showering her with broken ceramic chips.
"Bloody hell, for eight hours?" Ron shouted, ducking under what looked like a jelly-legs curse. It hit a potted plant in the corner and Draco had time to register that the plant started wobbling before he had to dive out of the way.
"This could have been avoided had you warned me about this!" Draco yelled as an unidentified hex almost hit him square in the eye.
"We said no sleep," she retorted, "which, funnily enough, means, don't force him to go to sleep!"
"You said he had nightmares!" Draco snapped. He glared at nothing in particular as an odd combination of curses and hexes met in the air above him, showering him with residual magic and no doubt rendering his robes unwearable.
"Did you honestly think we wouldn't have tried something as simple as a dreamless sleeping potion?" Hermione screeched at him. She looked ready to start hexing him as well. Draco sneered at her, inwardly cursing himself. He would sooner kiss a pig than admit to himself or anyone else that his actions were poorly thought out.
"You listen to me, you great bloody moron!" he screamed at the irate Potter, who snarled at someone invisible and tried to tackle them. "You're in your bloody bedroom! Would you kindly wake the fuck up and desist attempting to kill your friends and myself!"
Potter suddenly froze, apparently staring into an oncoming spell with nowhere to go. Draco recognised the scene immediately. He'd been fighting in the war as well, and had looked up to see Potter just as his shield wavered, and a Death Eater – Travers, by the look of it – had seen him in the same moment. Without thinking, Draco had tackled the idiot to the ground, and a Cruciatus had zinged through the air where Potter had been.
Standing, Draco launched himself at Potter, who had broken through the shield Hermione had woven around his bed long ago, and they both smashed onto the floor. Ron and Hermione stared at them, flabbergasted, as Potter's mouth worked without sound. Draco knew the words perfectly, and he responded to them just as he had done years ago.
"Shit, Malfoy. Uh...wow, I can't believe you just did that..."
"I'm not about to die because you can't survive long enough to off MouldyWart." Draco muttered.
Potter laughed weakly, but silently. Even Ron looked slightly amused, although confusion was the strongest expression on his face. Draco ignored the other two.
"Fair enough. Look..."
"Get on with it, Potter."
Potter suddenly jolted, as though doused with cold water, and apparently time skipped forward to just after the war. Draco recognised his stance, leaning against the wall, looking exhausted and much older than he really was. They were standing amidst the rubble of some nondescript building, while mediwizards ran all over the place. It was a horrible, sobering scene. Draco wondered whether Potter was seeing all of it for the first time, or whether he remembered doing it all before.
"So...thanks for saving my neck out there."
Draco swallowed. "I would thank you for the same but I can't bring myself to do it."
Potter's face flushed, and he glared. Ron and Hermione were still speechless, confused by the absence of dialogue on Potter's behalf.
"Where do we stand now?"
"Grow up, Potter. We're not in school anymore."
Potter stared at him with dark grey eyes, and Draco didn't hesitate to clasp his shoulder this time.
"We're not quite friends, Potter."
Potter nodded and opened his mouth, but this time Draco spoke as well.
"But we could be."
"After what you just did to me, you owe me dinner." He said, smirking. He frowned as he realised how that might come across, but shook it off and watched for Potter's reaction.
Potter gasped, taking a step back, and his eyes flickered – literally flickered – between the stone grey his eyes now were, and the emerald green they had used to be. Then he slumped to the ground, having what Draco suspected to be his first real sleep in a long time. Ron was making real choking noises now, and Hermione was still staring at them, so Draco sighed, picked up the gaunt frame of his once-rival, and placed Potter back on the bed.
"You..." her voice broke. Clearing her throat, she tried again, but he was already stalking off towards the door.
"I really don't have time for this crap." he snapped. He was doing a lot of snapping here. "This is a totally useless, brainless shadow of the Potter I remember and I don't enjoy wasting my time on him."
"But he remembers you. He doesn't remember any of us." Hermione's bottom lip quivered, and Draco rolled his eyes. Stupid Gryffindor sentimentality. Draco would have celebrated if most of his former classmates suddenly forgot all about him, if only so that he could stop watching his own back so closely.
"Well hooray for me. It's just what I've always wanted." Draco replied coldly, and with that, he walked out of the manor and Apparated home.