This is for Kamerreon's Drabble Challenge — a drabble a day until my imagination dies.

Disclaimer: All characters belong to J.K. Rowling. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended.


Nightmares


A soft whimper.

A gentle plead.

A pained moan.

Neville had heard enough. He pushed back his covers, swinging his feet over the edge of the bed, hissing lightly as they hit the cold stone floor. He squinted in the darkness, noting that Ron was still snoring heavily, while Seamus and Dean had yet to stir. Nodding to himself, Neville began his slow and silent journey to Harry's bed.

He was tossing and turning again, his face screwed up in pain. As he did every night Harry had a nightmare, Neville sat down beside the other boy, running a hand through his soft, messy hair.

"Shh, it's alright, Harry, it's ok."

And, just like every other night Harry had a nightmare, Harry calmed down, soothed by the touch. Neville had been doing it for years, but no one knew. He would stroke Harry's hair, rub his shoulder, caress his face and whisper sweet words to him until he was once again sleeping peacefully.

Like he was now.

Sighing, Neville rubbed his eyes tiredly. This was taking its toll on him. Sometimes Harry would wake him two, three times a night. He knew he should stop, he needed his sleep, but he just didn't have the heart to put up a silencing charm.

"…Neville?"

Neville's head whipped around and his brown eyes widened as he saw that Harry was awake. He was rubbing his eyes with one hand, the other fumbling for his glasses. As soon as he found them and slid them on, he blinked up at Neville.

"Hi, Harry," Neville whispered. He had no idea what to say to him.

"I had a nightmare, didn't I?" Harry asked in a low voice. Neville nodded. "I thought so… every time I have one, it's horrible, but then there's this voice, and someone is touching me, and it all goes away…" Harry fixed Neville with a sharp look through his glasses. "It's you, isn't it?"

"Yeah," Neville said, running a hand through his hair. "I hate seeing you like that."

Harry was silent for a while, staring up at Neville. After a moment he smiled brightly at him, shuffling over in his small bed and patting the spot left invitingly.

"You must be cold," he said as he lifted the covers. "Come on."

Neville had a hundred protests on the tip of his tongue, but the look in Harry's eye clearly told him not to argue. With a shaky smile, Neville slid into the bed. Harry's arms closed around him instantly, the smaller boy huddling up next to him.

"You're a great friend, Neville," Harry said in a sleepy voice. "If you sleep here you don't have to get up."

"But-"

"Shh," Harry held him tighter. "Go to sleep. You take care of me, so I'll take care of you."

Neville found his body obeying the words, sliding into sleep. The warm presence next to him was welcome, warming his cold body up immediately.

And Harry fell back into sleep, no nightmares plaguing him.