… a blond figure was descending onto Harry… the hair… platinum…so familiar… Harry lay happily on his bed, awaiting this person… closer, closer… the eyes, blue and black at once… hot breath on Harry's face… a kiss…
Harry jolted awake and sat straight up in bed, consequently knocking his head very hard against the lowest shelf on his wall over his bed. 'OW! What was the dream? Just a dream, just a dream.' He thought to himself without saying a word out loud for fear of waking someone up. He was shivering and sweating. He felt as if he had just run a mile with a high fever in the rain. His head was burning, his scar twanged, his arms and legs were tingling. Harry's throat was so dry. He needed water. Harry got out of bed and pulled on boxers. He walked quickly, eyes opened to the cupboard and reached for a glass.
"Good evening," someone said behind him.
Harry jumped, the glass he was holding fell to the ground and shattered into a million pieces, "Malf - Draco, what are you doing up?"
Draco was reclining with his hands up on the back of his neck. He looked comfortable sitting on the couch, as if it was natural for him to be living with his least favorite people in world, and be awake at four in the morning, conversing with his archenemy. A cup of coffee rested on the table in front of him. The lights were out, but Draco didn't look as if he'd been sleeping. He had changed so much since Harry had last encountered him at school.
Draco's eyes were rimmed with red to form what looked to be a combination of exhaustion and an unknown sadness. 'Being on the run alters ones appearance,' Harry thought to himself, forcibly reminded once again of a different Mr. Black he had known.
Harry was unable to even guess at this strange boy's thoughts. He could only notice the dark shadows under his eyes. If he hadn't known better, he would have thought this change signified some sort of difference in character. But this was Draco. Not some poor decrepit invalid that had come for health and good counsel.
His clothes were old and worn and it looked as if he had lost considerable weight. Draco was wirier and wearier than Harry had ever seen him. But his face showed no sign of recognizing his body's flight. 'We'll nurse you back to health,' Harry found himself thinking, 'I can get you back on the right track.'
"I don't sleep," replied Draco, in answer to Harry's question. He muttered under his breath and the glass under Harry's feet collected itself and filled with water. His face stayed practically expressionless. Like he was in a play that had been rehearsed to many times in one sitting.
"I couldn't sleep either," responded Harry, taking the levitating glass and swallowing the contents whole, "I think I have a fever. I feel sick."
"Maybe that's cause your in such close proximity to me. Or was Ronnie boy scaring you," mocked Draco, sounding much more like his old self than he had all day.
"Eat dung, Malfoy," Harry half-shouted, half-whispered.
"I'm just kidding, my little fucking flying fairy. I know your dreams can be pretty serious and important blah blah blah," Draco answered, ignoring Harry's jab at his former surname, "Come here and I'll take your temperature."
"Fuck you, Draco," Harry sat down in any case.
"Put this in your mouth," Draco instructed, offering Harry his wand tip.
"Why? Your aim got so bad, you need me to hold the wand for you while you kill me?"
"To take your temperature, my little ballerina."
"Oh," Harry complied and opened his mouth.
"Now take it out," Draco said after about a minute.
Harry looked confused so Draco put one hand on Harry's face and pulled out the wand with his other hand. Harry felt a bolt of lightening go through him from his mouth to his toes and back up to his head. 'It must be combination of fever and Death Eater combined,' he concluded. Draco didn't seem to feel the need the to ask questions. For that, Harry was glad.
" You're fine. I know what type of dream you had. They're hot, but not fever inducing," Draco smirked.
"Shut up."
"Now you and Ron go have fun. Scat!" Draco… teased? Without malice? Impossible!
"RON!"
"Yes, that's his name. Good job."
"No, Ron's not in his bed. I haven't seen him since the fight we had this morning," Harry exclaimed wildly, in a state of panic. Draco didn't move.
"I saw him this afternoon, before I came here. He was outside. He offered me a cigarette and then…" Draco stopped abruptly and a fleeting look of panic crossed his face before he placed his wand to his head, on the other side, so Harry couldn't see. He tapped it a few times distractedly before jumping up and crying, "I gotta go, Harry. I'll see you in the morning." Draco stood up and threw on the leather jacket lying next to him on the couch.
"Wait, I'm coming with you! Since when does Ron smoke? That doesn't matter. Where is he? We need to find him!" Harry stood up, suddenly very conscious of his own lack of clothing. The draft in the room gave his naked skin goose bumps. Walking around in his boxers now felt like an idiotic idea.
"I am going to find him, Potter," spat Draco, but then, after a moment of reflection he concluded, "Always the hero, aren't we Potter. Fine. Come with me. Go get dressed. We have to hurry."
"Wait, what? Where are we going?" asked Harry, forever needing answers.
"Now isn't the time for questions. I said grab some pants and a shirt. We need to leave."
"Where?" asked Harry, unable to process this information quickly due to lack of sleep.
"I'll tell you as we go. Drink some of this, you look like you'll need it." Draco motioned to the mug on the table. "Sleeplessness potion, keeps you awake. You need to stay up. We have a long night ahead of us." Harry never had time to wonder why Draco might stay up all night nursing such a potion.