Chapter One: Night Terrors
The cool October night was fading into the early morning. Harry was lying motionless in his four-poster in the Gryffindor dorm. His t-shirt was soaked with sweat, his hair damp. The sheets were somehow simultaneously cold and clammy and unbearably hot. He'd only been awake for a minute, yet he knew that sleep would not return. As he listened to the slow, calm breathing of Ron and Neville, his mind returned to the nightmare that had so rudely awoken him.
Last spring, he'd been through the fight of his life, for his life. While he'd come out on top and alive, so many hadn't- on both sides. The soul-shattering screams of terror still rang in his ears at night. McGonagall's shout of loss and disbelief. His friends' tears. The weight of his broken body in Hagrid's arms. Here he was five months later, unable to sleep through the night without a sleeping draught.
For the first couple of months afterward, Madam Pomfrey would give him a sleeping draught each night. But six weeks ago, she decided that he needed to stop relying on the potion. Each night he'd fall asleep easily enough but would wake up in sheer terror around one or two in the morning, and lay awake for the next six or seven hours, unable to return to sleep.
As he lay there, praying for sleep to come sweep him away, he attempted to distract himself with fond memories of the castle. The first time he entered the great hall as a young first year, new to the world of magic. Discovering the beauty and freedom of flying. Competing in the Triwizard Tournament. Meeting with the DA without Umbridge's knowledge or approval. His first kiss with Ginny. The castle held so many familiar memories- it was his first true home.
Without realizing it, he drifted off to sleep. He again returned to the Battle of Hogwarts, but the fear was gone. It was as though he entered through a Pensieve. He watched Voldemort announce his death. He watched Neville stand against the Dark Lord. He saw himself roll out of Hagrid's arms. But then he saw something he'd never seen before, had no memory of.
Draco Malfoy, standing amongst the Death Eaters. That wasn't new, but what he did next was. Upon seeing Harry move, he sprinted across the battleground, shouted "Potter!" and threw Harry his own hawthorn wand. In past recollections, Harry already had the wand in his hand once he cast the first spell, and assumed that he had held it the whole time.
He woke to Ron tapping his shoulder, bright sunlight streaming in the tower windows. His body was warm and relaxed, not tight and sweaty like earlier.
"Harry! Mate, you have to get up, breakfast ends soon and we have a class in 30 minutes!" Ron called out. Harry sat up and rubbed his eyes, touseling his messy bedhead.
"What's going on?" he asked. It had been so long since he woke up at a natural hour. His mind swam with images of the dorm room and memories of his last dream. He slid his legs over the side of the bed and looked up at Ron's concerned face.
"You look like hell. What happened last night? Another bad dream? You were hard to wake, and normally you're awake long before now," he asked.
"I'll uh, tell you later. I gotta get dressed," Harry responded. He didn't know what to make of his dream, and he knew Ron wouldn't be of much help either. After pulling on his clothes and grabbing his book bag, he rushed down to the great hall to grab some food before Transfiguration. There he met Hermione and Ron. Hermione's disconcerted look when she spotted Harry told him that Ron had already told her what happened earlier.
"Morning Harry, how'd you sleep?" she asked, attempting to cover up the obvious fact that they had been talking about him.
"Gee, I don't know, why don't you ask Ron?" he responded snarkily. Hermione and Ron looked at each other, unsure of how to respond.
"I'm sorry Harry, Ron and I are just worried about you, that's all. Do you want to talk about it?" she said quietly. Harry softened his glare and grabbed a piece of toast off the platter. He shook his head and focused on spreading jam on his toast. Before he even took a bite, he realized that his class started in five minutes.
Wrapping his toast in his napkin, he swung his bag on his arm and took off from the table at the same time. As he left the Great Hall, he ran straight into Draco Malfoy. As soon as he registered Malfoy's surprised face, his mind immediately returned to his dream. Malfoy's face registered shock, pleasure, and disgust in that order, within seconds. A smug smirk settled on his face.
"Potter. Watch where you're going," he said curtly. Harry's stomach leapt against his will, hitting him with a wave of confusion. He muttered an apology and sped off, head down. Harry tried to slip into McGonagall's classroom, but she noticed.
"Potter. You're late. Five points from Gryffindor. Now, take your seat and get out your book," she said firmly,
"Sorry Professor," he muttered, rushing to the back of the class and sliding into his seat next to Dean Thomas. Throughout the class period, he couldn't focus on the lecture. Malfoy's shout he dreamt and the fleeting look of pleasure on his face that morning remained stubbornly in his mind. When McGonagall dismissed them, he set off for Gryffindor Tower, desperately trying to understand.
Once he climbed through the portrait hole, he found the common room empty, except for Hermione writing a lengthy essay in one corner. Remembering her offer to talk from that morning, he shuffled over to her. He sat down in the chair opposite her and she glanced up.
With a knowing look on her face, she asked, "So, you're ready to talk now?" Harry stared at her in disbelief. She always seemed to know what he was thinking before he said a single word.
"Bloody hell Hermione, don't you know that's creepy? Maybe you shouldn't have given up Divination, because you're practically a mind reader."
She smirked and watched him silently, her eyes searching for more answers written on his face. He felt naked; as if she was scrutinizing every aspect of him. He shuffled uncomfortably on his chair and took a deep breath.
"Yeah, I wanted to talk to you about something. It's not like Ron would be any help, but please try to keep your ridiculing to a minimum," he muttered.
She continued smirking, but her expression softened, "Well, what is it? A dream?" she asked kindly.
"Yeah, that's part of it. I haven't slept a whole night since Pomfrey stopped giving me sleeping draughts. I wake up in a panic every night around one or two in the morning and can't go back to sleep afterward," he began.
Hermione stopped smirking and nodded knowingly. Harry knew that she'd had her share of sleeping issues after the battle, but had recovered by now.
"Well the same thing happened last night," he continued, "But for the first time, I fell back asleep. I dreamt about the battle again, but the fear was gone, and it was like I was watching it from an outside perspective."
He told her about what Draco had done, and her expression morphed from concern to confusion, to realization. He asked what she thought, and she only responded by asking if there was anything else. He told her about Draco's fleeting look of pleasure when they ran into each other, and her smirk returned.
"What? What's so funny?" he asked her.
"Harry, you're smiling," she said with a hint of laughter in her voice. He glared at her and posed another question.
"What do you think my dream meant?"
"Well," she began, "It's not really a dream, or at least not only a dream. Malfoy calling out your name and throwing you his wand- that actually happened. It's a memory, even if it's one you didn't realize at first. And honestly, I understand that. There were bigger things happening, things demanding more attention and fear. We never told you about it because we assumed you knew and just didn't wish to acknowledge or discuss it."
Harry's mind raced. So he didn't dream that Draco helped him. But why? His parents were Death Eaters, he stood with them. Before he could contemplate that more, Hermione continued.
"As for his expression this morning, it's neither surprising nor new. I've seen it for years, believe it or not- you and Ron were just too ignorant to recognize it."
His mouth dropped open. Draco, pleased to see him? But they were enemies! How could that even be possible? Hermione saw his expression and let out a small laugh, which she tried to cover with a cough.
"Well, I hope that helped," she said, "I've got a class, see you later in Potions," and took off quickly, not allowing Harry time to speak. At this moment, Seamus Finnigan and Dean Thomas pushed through the portrait hole, laughing and conversing loudly.
His mind reeled, it was as though only his mind had been hit by a stunning spell. Moving slowly, focusing on nothing but Malfoy, he drifted upstairs to avoid conversation.