Sweetheart, you look a little tired
When did you last eat?
Come in and make yourself right at home
Stay as long as you need
By: Sleeping at Last
Draco's white gold locks tumble into his steely gaze as he glares at Severus across the mahogany desk. The floor-to-ceiling windows behind him allow a muted glow of sunlight to filter into the room, casting a faint shimmer upon Severus's pale skin. Draco's hands are clenched tightly at his sides, nails digging into his palms with the force of his pent-up anger and frustration.
"Severus, for the last time, Harry doesn't need a psychiatric exam! He's going through a difficult time, that's all." Draco's voice is sharp and defensive.
Severus sighs, rubbing his temples. The colour of his face seems whiter than usual, stark with worry. Draco can't help but wonder when the last time he fed.
"Draco, are you sure that's wise," Severus sneers, "Seeing things that aren't there, manic episodes, waking up screaming from nightmares…"
At Draco's look of surprise Severus just looks resigned.
"Honestly, how long did you think you could hide it from me?"
Draco face moves into a hard stubborn line.
"Harry's fine,"
Severus narrows his eyes, "Fine is not having a breakdown in a nightclub. Fine is not forgetting who you are in a grocery store,"
Severus voices rises as his frustration mounts, "There was a police officer there, Draco, what would you have done if Harry had gotten a hold of his gun? Saw you as a threat and shot you? How would you explain the lack of blood? Or worse, he shot someone else? You risk going into a frenzy and Harry risks jail,"
Draco reels back at Severus's words feeling shock and disgust.
"Harry would never do that," Draco hisses.
He's a hero Draco thinks in a distant detached voice, his dead heart growing heavy in his chest.
He's everything I'm not.
"You can't guarantee that, you've only known him for a year," Severus snaps at him in a impatient voice.
Draco looks at Severus, feeling like he just cast a stunner at his chest.
Draco still vividly remembers meeting Harry in Madame Malkin's all those years ago at the tender age of eleven. He looked so small and innocent. All Draco had been able to focus on at the time was finally having the chance to impress someone his own age. Someone his parents hadn't deemed appropriate to spend time with and was therefore already under their thumb. He'd been rude and arrogant and made Harry rightfully hate him. If only he hadn't missed so much. So much of the abuse that hid behind those green eyes.
The Harry he knows todays is just as gentle as the one he knew back then, but this time Draco will protect him from interfering adults and their 'good intentions'.
"I can and I will. You're not his doctor, you're my father! And right now, you're being a real pain in the ass!" Draco snaps, his yellow eyes flashing.
Severus's voice rises, frustration evident.
"Do you think I enjoy seeing you stressed and worried all the time? Watching you run yourself ragged trying to manage Harry's episodes? "
Draco slams his hand on the desk, making the computer rattle and the wood creak ominously. A warning to stop pushing. From Severus's hurt expression he reads it as one, but Draco can't find it in himself to feel guilty when Severus ignores it.
"I love him, father! I'm not 'managing' him. I'm supporting him because that's what you do when you love someone!"
"It is easy to love someone when you feel in control, Draco," Severus says softly, his eyes glistening, "Sometimes it is easy to let love blind you from the right decision when you feel it slipping,"
"Mer-God, why can't you just trust me that I know what I am doing," Draco's voice cracks, "I know Harry better than anyone. He's not mentally ill, he's just... he's struggling,"
Draco had watched Harry for years, his mind secretly categorizing his every whim and interest. He doubted even Harry's bumbling justice-obsessed sidekicks paid as much attention as Draco did.
"And your solution is to involve some shrink who doesn't know him, doesn't understand him?" Draco hisses, his teeth bared.
It was something Dumbledore would do. Throw Harry away as soon as he stopped being useful. Lock him in some facility, like the Department of Mysterious so 'experts' could cast spells at him and study him like a specimen under a microscope. Severus moves around the desk, reaching out to him.
"Draco, I'm not the enemy here,"
Draco jerks away from his touch, but not before Severus sees his clenched face.
"Then trust me. Trust that I know what Harry needs. He needs me, his friends, his support system. Not some cold, clinical building far away from me!"
Severus dares to move closer whispering, "I'm scared for you, son,"
"I'm terrified that you're going to lose your life trying to save him."
But he is my life.
The thought passes so easily through his head it surprises him. It makes him wonder how long he thought this way without realizing it. If even during school his orbit rotated around the sun that is Harry Potter. It certainly felt that way most days, his first thought upon waking always being how he was going torment Harry that day. Though he can't help but fear he is losing one leash only to replace it with another.
Then Draco remembers Harry sacrificing himself to Tom to save Draco. He feels his dead heart grow warm. No, he thinks, Harry would never control him the way his birth father did. His love is pure and selfless. Draco's shoulders sag, the fight draining out of him. He looks at his adopted father, seeing the love and fear warring in the older man's eyes.
"Father, I... I'm scared too. But I can't give up on him. I won't."
Harry is Draco's everything. He'd given his whole self for him. His culture, his politics, his family and friends. Draco shudders to think what will be left if Harry ever left him.
Severus pulls his son into a tight embrace, feeling Draco's body shake with tearless sobs.
"We'll figure this out together, okay? We'll find a way."
Draco nods against his shoulder, clinging to him like he used to cling to his mother's skirts as a child. The office falls silent, save for the soft sounds of their shared unnecessary breaths and the unspoken promise of unwavering loyalty, that Draco wishes he noticed in his own world. Maybe he wouldn't have gotten Harry and himself in this mess.
The Cullen living room is a picture of Slytherin and Gryffindor integration, or in this world supernatural and human, a sight that would have been unthinkable in their original universe. Draco, his platinum blonde hair and pale skin a stark contrast to the rich leather of the couch, sits with Harry's head resting in his lap. His long, elegant fingers combed through Harry's perpetually messy black hair, a gesture that both seems to soothe Harry and satisfies Draco's possessive urges.
Harry's lanky frame stretches out across the length of the plush couch, his socked feet resting comfortably in Luna's lap at the opposite end. Luna, her ethereal golden eyes seemingly lost in another world, gently runs her fingers over Harry's ankle in a soothing rhythm. Beside her sits Theo, perched on a delicate armchair that could have been plucked from a catalogue. The sour expression etched on his face serves as a stark reminder to Draco of his own past sneers. It makes him want to shrink in on himself in embarrassment.
"What's your dorm building again, Ron?" Hermione's voice cuts through the comfortable silence.
She glances up from her laptop, her bushy hair cascading over Pansy's legs where she sits.
Ron, his freckles standing out against his flushed skin, answers, "Carmen Hall."
Hermione's nose wrinkles in distaste. "The party dorm, Ron? Really?"
"It was the only one left!" Ron protests, his ears turning an even brighter shade of red.
Draco can smell the blood rushing to his face, a scent that once would have driven him to frenzy but now only registers as a mild irritation.
"If you had applied early like I did, you could have gotten into any of them you wanted," Hermione chides, her tone a mixture of exasperation and affection.
Ron shrugs, his lanky frame shifting on the loveseat he shared with Blaise.
"I didn't want to stay in River Hall anyway. Who would want to live in a single dorm, surrounded by a bunch of Seniors? I bet all they'll want to do is study."
Hermione's eyes widened, a spark of excitement lighting them up.
"Because you can ask them for tips on the best professors to take and…"
At Ron's bored look Hermione trails off looking a little embarrassed.
Ron opens his mouth to say something but Pansy cuts across him.
"Darling," Pansy interrupts, pulling Hermione closer against her chest and pressing a kiss to her curls, "don't waste your breath trying to explain the inner workings of your beautiful mind to idiots."
"Hey!" Ron exclaims, looking annoyed.
Blaise leans over, closing the carefully maintained gap between him and Ron on the loveseat. His lips brushes Ron's ear his teeth lightly biting the shell as he whispers, "My lovable idiot."
Draco, unable to help himself, dips briefly into Ron's thoughts. The redhead's mind is a swirl of confusion, attraction, and a hint of fear – a cocktail of emotions that Draco finds both fascinating and slightly nauseating. He never saw Blaise defying his mother's wishes and going after a 'blood traitor'. It is almost Gryffindor of him. There appeared to be new depths to his friends he had yet to discover. He quickly withdraws, focusing instead on the comforting weight of Harry's head in his lap.
Theo's voice, dripping with disdain, cuts through the moment.
"Do remind us how you got into Columbia with your abysmal grades?"
The room tenses. Luna, Blaise, and Pansy shot glares at Theo, their supernatural speed making the movement almost imperceptible to the humans. Draco feels his own muscles coil, ready to intervene if necessary. Theo's reluctance to accept the humans in their midst is becoming a source of increasing tension. Ron's temper flares, his face flushing an even deeper red.
"Grand Master chess player, at sixteen," he snaps back.
Draco's brow furrows slightly. In the jumble of memories from this world and their original one, he can't quite place if Ron's chess prowess is consistent across universes or unique to this one.
"Impressive," Theo sneers, his tone making it clear he finds it anything but.
Blaise's arms are around Ron in an instant as the redhead makes to lunge at Theo. Whispered assurances in Ron's ear gradually calm him, his thoughts slowing to a syrupy pace that Draco can sense even without actively reading his mind.
"Theo, behave," Luna growls, her usually dreamy voice carrying an edge that could cut glass.
Theo has the grace to look slightly chastised, though his expression remains haughty. The tension in the room is palpable, so he is surprised when Harry lifts his head, his green eyes scanning the room with a mixture of innocence and wonder.
"I still can't believe you guys are going to the same college and that we're all going to be in New York together," Harry says, his voice tinged with wonder and a hint of something else – fear, perhaps, or uncertainty of whether he can keep his slips of reality hidden while he is there.
Draco's fingers still in Harry's hair, it is something that Draco fears as well after his talk with Severus.
Blaise's lips curl into a cheeky grin, taking Harry's sneaky suggestion of a subject change.
"I still can't believe that Draco is willing to be so far away from Harry, going to a completely different school."
The thought of being separated from Harry, even by just a few miles, sends a jolt of anxiety through him. The idea of not being able to protect Harry is unthinkable now, even if the action used to be foreign to him.
"Sod off," Draco growls, feeling Harry settle back into his lap, his mission accomplished.
Saving people even without his famous powers, Draco thinks wryly.
Hermione's brow furrows in confusion.
"Isn't Columbia and Juilliard only three miles apart?"
Pansy's laughter rings out, a sound like tinkling bells.
"For those two, it might as well be a hundred miles."
"Especially with Harry dear's... episodes," Theo adds, his voice low and laden with meaning.
Draco hisses, the sound too low for human ears but a clear warning to the vampires in the room. Luna's hand shoots out, gripping Theo's arm with enough force to crush human bone.
"Episodes?" Hermione asks, worry etching itself across her features.
Draco can see her mind racing, likely conjuring images of the abuse she suspects Harry has endured at the hands of the Dursleys.
"It's nothing, Hermione," Harry says, his voice soothing but with an undercurrent of tension. "I've just been having trouble sleeping, that's all. Sometimes my nightmares feel a little too real."
Draco feels Harry stiffen in his lap, his back pressing against Draco's chest as if seeking protection from Hermione's scrutiny.
"Have you talked about it with someone?" Hermione presses, her concern evident.
"I talk to Draco," Harry says defensively, burrowing further into Draco's embrace.
Draco's heart, though long still, seems to clench. It is a half-truth at best. While he is acutely aware of Harry's nightmares – the increased heartbeat, the sour smell of fear permeating the air – Harry rarely shares the details. Usually, he claims not to remember, instead curling tighter against Draco's cool body and crying until exhaustion claimed him once more.
These nights are torture for Draco. He picks up fragments from Harry's sleep-talking, piecing them together with what he knows of saviours life from their original world. The resulting picture is horrifying, a patchwork of trauma and pain that Draco longs to erase.
Hermione looks doubtful, but seems to realize that pushing further will be futile. Ron, oblivious as ever, changes the subject without seeming to realize the weight of the moment.
"But Draco doesn't have any talent with music and dance, does he? How could they go to the same school anyway?" Ron asks, with genuine confusion.
At that moment, Lily glides into the room, her entrance accompanied by a burst of melodious laughter. Her golden eyes sweep over the assembled group, a smile playing on her lips as she takes in the sight of humans and vampires intertwined.
"Have you never played the piano for them, dear?" Lily asks, a mischievous glint in her eye as she glances at Harry. "Or did Harry want to keep that talent all to himself?"
Hermione's eyes light up with curiosity.
"I didn't know you played, Draco," she says, leaning forward slightly.
Lily's face brightens with sudden inspiration.
"Why don't you show them?" she suggests, her tone light but her eyes knowing.
Draco feels a groan building in his chest. He glances up at the grand piano on the landing, its polished surface gleaming invitingly. A curious scent wafts from Harry – a mixture of hope and shy anticipation.
"Could you?" Harry asks, his green eyes wide and imploring as he looks up at Draco. "You haven't played in forever."
Draco feels his resolve crumble in the face of those eyes. With a soft sigh, he stands, gently helping Harry to his feet before making his way to the piano bench. Harry follows, leaning against him as Draco's fingers take position on the keys.
Taking an unnecessary breath, Draco begins to play. The melody that flows from his fingers is haunting and complex, a unnamed piece he has been composing during the long hours when Harry sleeps. It spoke of loss and longing, of a shattered reality and a ruined wonderland. As the notes fill the air, Draco feels Harry's warmth against him, a anchor in this strange, merged world they now inhabited.
The room feels silent save for the music and the steady beating of human hearts. In that moment, the lines between their old world and this new one seem to blur, reality bending around the sweet, sorrowful notes of Draco's composition. And as Harry's head comes to rest on his shoulder, Draco allows himself to hope that somehow, someway, they will find their way through this twisted fairytale together.
Draco pauses at the threshold of their shared room, his hand resting lightly on the doorframe. Through the crack in the door, he observes Harry hunched over the computer on the desk. The soft blue glow of the screen casts harsh shadows across Harry's face, accentuating the dark circles under his eyes and the pallor of his skin.
Harry's posture speaks volumes - his shoulders are slumped, his back curved in a way that makes Draco's own spine ache in sympathy. Every few seconds, Harry's head dips forward, only to jerk back up as he fights against the pull of exhaustion. His fingers move sluggishly across the keyboard, occasionally missing keys and having to backspace.
Draco's brow furrows in concern. He knows all too well why Harry pushes himself like this. The nightmares that plague his sleep, the memories that haunt him in the dark. It's a battle Draco has watched Harry fight night after night, and his heart aches at the toll it takes.
Taking a deep breath, Draco pastes on a casual smile and pushes the door open, deliberately letting it creak to announce his presence. The effect on Harry is immediate and almost comical - he snaps upright in his chair, his spine straightening so quickly Draco can almost hear it pop. Harry's hands fly to his hair, attempting to tame the mess, and he blinks rapidly, as if trying to clear the fatigue from his eyes.
"Hey," Harry says, his voice forcefully bright as he swivels in his chair to face Draco. "Didn't hear you come in."
With practiced stealth, Draco glides across the room, his footsteps silent on the plush carpet. In one fluid motion, he slips his arms around Harry's shoulders, feeling the warmth radiating from Harry's skin against his cold hands.
Draco notices the slight tremor in Harry's hands, the way his smile doesn't quite reach his eyes. But he also sees the determination there, the stubborn refusal to acknowledge his own exhaustion. It's so quintessentially Harry that Draco feels a surge of affection mixed with exasperation.
Harry doesn't even flinch at the unexpected touch. Instead, he melts back against Draco's chest with a weary sigh, his body sagging as if Draco's embrace is the only thing keeping him upright.
Playing along for now, Draco smiles despite himself he says,
"Battlestar Galactica fanfiction, Harry, really?"
Draco's voice is a mix of disbelief and fondness, hiding his worry as his eyes scan Harry's face, cataloging every sign of fatigue.
"I like it," he mumbles, voice thick with fatigue.
Nuzzling Harry's hair with his cheek, Draco's eyes flick to the screen. He can't help the amused snort that escapes him as he reads the title, though his brow furrows slightly at the realization of how long Harry must have been reading. His mind is already working on how to coax his stubborn boyfriend to bed without triggering Harry's defenses.
Harry's shoulders rise and fall in a small shrug, the movement slower than usual.
"Theo introduced it to me," he admits, his fingers idly tracing patterns on Draco's forearm, the touch lighter than normal.
A flare of anger burns through Draco, hot and sudden, quickly followed by a wave of protectiveness. He tenses momentarily, then forces himself to relax, not wanting Harry to sense his internal struggle with his sibling knowing he will put the blame on himself.
"Of course the little nerd did," Draco grumbles into Harry's dark locks, his unnecessary breath ruffling the messy strands. He pauses, then adds with a hint of resignation, "And I assume Luna got you into fanfiction."
Harry twists in his chair, looking up at Draco with bright but slightly unfocused eyes.
"But I couldn't just let it end," he whines, his lower lip jutting out in an adorable pout.
Draco fights the urge to kiss that pout away, instead gently massaging Harry's shoulders, feeling the tension built up from hours of sitting.
"So what is it about?" he asks, aiming for a casual tone while surreptitiously checking the time on his watch.
Harry's face lights up, though the excitement doesn't quite reach his tired eyes. He swivels back to the screen, gesturing with less energy than usual. It makes Draco feel so helpless.
"It's about Adama and Roslin," he explains, his voice brimming with enthusiasm despite the fatigue.
"The political leader and the military commander." He pauses, a wistful note entering his voice. "And they exchange books, just like us."
Draco's mind flashes to the countless times Draco stole books from Harry's shelves. He remembers letting Harry raid his bookshelf, a calculated move in their ongoing literary dance.
"Weren't they enemies to lovers?" Draco asks, his voice taking on an arch quality, even as he subtly shifts his stance to better support Harry's weight.
Just like us, Draco thinks, a mixture of emotions swirling in his chest.
Harry wrinkles his nose adorably, twisting in his chair again to face Draco fully, the movement slightly uncoordinated.
"Enemies-to-friends-to-lovers," he corrects, emphasizing each stage with a tap of his finger against Draco's chest, though the taps grow weaker with each one. "You know how I feel about instant love."
Draco's heart skips a beat at Harry's touch. He wants nothing more than to lean down and kiss away that endearing expression of disgust, but he holds back, savouring the moment while also calculating how to get Harry to bed without seeming overbearing.
"Hmm..." Draco hums, pretending to be deep in thought. His lips quirk into a teasing smirk. "I remember you saying it was your favourite."
Harry's eyes widen in mock outrage, though the effect is somewhat diminished by how heavily his eyelids are drooping. He giggles, the sound like music to Draco's ears, and playfully swats at Draco's arm with noticeably less force than usual.
"You are such a goof," he says, his voice warm with affection.
Draco feels a rush of emotion, his chest growing warm even as concern for Harry's well-being intensifies. The words tumble out before he can stop them, soft and sincere: "I love you."
Harry's eyes soften, a tired but genuine smile spreading across his face like the dawn breaking. He reaches up, cupping Draco's cheek with one hand.
"It's about time," he murmurs, pulling Draco down for a tender kiss.
As their lips meet, Draco makes a mental note to ensure Harry gets some rest soon, even as he loses himself in the kiss.
"You need to sleep," Draco whispers in his ear, his cool breath making him shiver.
Harry slowly pulls himself out of Draco's arms loosely wrapped around his shoulders. Gently shaking his head.
"I'm not tired," Harry mumbles, forcing a cheery smile on his face, "I think I'll read a few more chapters instead."
"Do you want to talk about the 'reason you can't sleep' it might help," Draco says with a teasing nip on Harry's ear.
Harry feels himself tense inside. He hates when Draco does that. When he asks he to talk about his dreams. Though Harry knows he is being dramatic, it feels invasive for some reason.
"No, I just want to read," Harry says, leaning his head away.
"Darling it's three a.m." Draco says his tense voice sounding stressed.
"Time is relative, especially when you live with vampires,"
"I'll call your godfather, he just left a few weeks ago I am sure he would love to receive a call about how you still refuse to sleep,"
Harry feels his thin hold on his temper break as he growls, "Draco stop pushing me,"
He feels more than sees Draco flinch back and curl in on himself.
"Oh," Draco chokes out, "I'll just…I'll just be in the living room,"
The words wait, I'm sorry are on the tip of his tongue but for some reason he can't force them off his lips before Draco's white form blurs away. Harry sighs as he lets his head drop onto the keyboard, knowing he is probably making a mess of the controls. It's comforting in a way, knowing his brain feels just the same.
He knows logically that the visions, the dreams, the nightmares that are making him feel crazy are not Draco's fault. How could they be? But a small part of him that refuses to die won't let the niggling thought go.
Guilt sinks in as he hears the first notes of the piano play. Harry let's his head lean back and lull against the headrest, feeling his eyes grow heavier.
He forces them back open.
An hour later Draco slides into the room and lays on the bed while giving Harry a come-hither look.
"Not tired," Harry repeats stubbornly despite the yawn that interrupts his words halfway through.
I smirk crosses Draco's face as he takes Harry in his gold eyes slowly rove over, "I was actually thinking of something different tonight."
The unexpected shift in topic catches Harry off guard. He slowly turns in his chair, curiosity piqued despite his exhaustion.
"Oh?" he manages, trying to keep his voice steady.
Draco's golden eyes gleam with mischief as he extends a hand.
"Come to bed, and I'll show you."
Harry hesitates, his tired mind warring with his stubborn determination to stay awake.
"I'm not really tired," he mumbles, forcing a smile. "I think I'll read a few more chapters instead."
"Darling," Draco purrs, his voice a silky caress, "what I have in mind doesn't require you to be tired. In fact, it might just... invigorate you."
The suggestive tone in Draco's voice sends a shiver down Harry's spine. He finds himself rising from the chair almost involuntarily, drawn by Draco's magnetic pull.
As they reach the bed, Draco gently tugs Harry down beside him.
"Close your eyes," he murmurs, "and let me take care of you."
Harry complies, his eyelids heavy with fatigue. He feels Draco's cool fingers tracing patterns on his skin, soothing and sensual at once. The tension begins to seep from his muscles and Harry feels himself drifting, lulled by Draco's gentle ministrations.
"That's it, love," Draco encourages softly in a warm voice Harry can't help but relax into. "Just relax."
Draco's arms encircle Harry's waist, pulling him closer until their bodies are pressed together. The cool touch of Draco's lips against his own sent shivers down Harry's spine. He gasps and eagerly returning the kiss, tasting the faint hint of mint and apple on Draco's breath.
Suddenly, without warning, Draco spins Harry around and presses his back against Draco's chest. Warmth radiates from Draco's body as he nuzzled his nose into the crook of Harry's neck. Despite knowing that Draco will never harm him, Harry can't help but feel a hitch in his breath at the possibility.
As if reading his mind a mischievous grin breaks over his face as Draco slips his fingers into Harry's open mouth, encouraging him to suck on them. Harry eagerly complies, sucking and licking until Draco's hand is glistening with his saliva.
Draco's fingers continue their exploration, teasing the edge of Harry's waistband before slipping underneath and pulling at what lies beneath. The sudden sensation jolts Harry awake, his heart racing as Draco's hand moves up and down his shaft.
Gasping and moaning, Harry leans further into the tantalizing touch. He can feel the heat building within him, his body responding to every movement of Draco's hand. As pre-come drips from the tip of his arousal, Draco smears it with each upward stroke, intensifying the pleasure.
"Draco," Harry groans, unable to contain himself as he feels the light scrape of teeth against his neck. In response, Draco bites down harder, causing Harry to whimper with desire.
As he releases himself into Draco's skilled hand, a wave of exhaustion washes over him.
"You tricked me," He accuses Draco half-heartedly through heavy breaths, but there is no true anger in his words.
In that moment, all Harry wants to do is sink into the soft sheets and bask in the afterglow. Draco's lips curve into a mischievous smirk, his cool body pressed against Harry's warm skin.
"I prefer to think of it as creative problem-solving," he teases.
Harry wants to be annoyed, but the warmth and comfort of their tangled limbs makes it hard to muster any energy. He grumbles half-heartedly, snuggling closer to Draco's strong frame.
"You're insufferable," he mutters, even as Draco lightly runs his tongue along the teeth-shaped bruise on Harry's neck, causing him to shiver with pleasure.
"And you're exhausted," Draco counters gently, stroking Harry's hair back from his damp forehead, "Sleep, my love. I'll be here."
As Harry feels himself being pulled under by the tide of sleep, he manages to mumble, "Not fair... using your vampire wiles against me."
The last thing he hears before succumbing is Draco's soft chuckle and a whispered reply: "All's fair in love and sleep deprivation, darling."
The small meadow is awash in dappled sunlight filtering through the canopy of surrounding trees. In the center, Harry moves with fluid grace, his body poetry of motion as he practices a complex series of steps. His eyes are closed in concentration, feet barely seeming to touch the soft grass beneath him.
Draco reclines at the edge of the clearing, golden eyes following Harry's every movement. A gentle breeze carries the scent of wildflowers, ruffling Harry's perpetually messy hair as he spins.
As Harry completes a particularly intricate turn, his eyes flutter open, meeting Draco's gaze. A small smile plays on his lips, but it doesn't quite reach his tired eyes. He takes a few steps towards Draco before sinking down onto the grass beside him, slightly out of breath.
"Show-off," Draco teases gently, reaching out to brush a bead of sweat from Harry's brow.
Harry leans into the touch, his smile turning wry.
"Just trying to make sure I don't forget everything before classes start."
Draco's expression softens with concern. He sits up, mirroring Harry's position.
"You couldn't forget if you tried. Dancing is as natural to you as breathing."
Harry plucks a nearby dandelion, twirling it between his fingers. His gaze drops to the flower, avoiding Draco's eyes as he speaks.
"Draco," he says softly, his voice tinged with worry, "do you think I should be checking into the 'loony bin' instead of Juilliard?"
Draco's eyes widen in alarm.
"What? Harry, no. Why would you even think that?"
Harry sighs, tossing the dandelion aside and running a hand through his hair.
"It's just... the nightmares, the lack of sleep. How am I supposed to survive those gruelling dance classes when I can barely keep my eyes open most days?"
Draco shifts closer, his gaze intense as he studies Harry's tired face. He gently takes one of Harry's hands in his own.
"You're not crazy, Harry. You're dealing with trauma, yes, but that doesn't make you insane."
"Sometimes it feels like it does," Harry mumbles, plucking at a blade of grass with his free hand.
Draco squeezes Harry's hand reassuringly.
"Listen to me. You're going to Juilliard because you're an incredibly talented dancer who's worked hard for this opportunity. The nightmares... they don't define you."
Harry draws comfort from Draco's cool touch, but doubt still clouds his features.
"But what if I can't handle it? The classes, the lack of sleep... and you'll be so far away at Cornell."
A small smile plays on Draco's lips. He stands up, pulling Harry with him.
"Harry," Draco says, his voice thick with emotion, "You're the toughest, bravest person I've ever met. You're incredible."
Harry scoffs, looking away with a smile as he tries to hide his embarrassment at the earnestness in Draco's voice. He takes a few steps back, spinning in a graceful pirouette.
"Now you just sound like a crazy fan."
Draco closes the distance between them in two quick strides. He catches Harry mid-spin, pulling him flush against his chest.
"I think that we have already established that I am crazy for you," Draco whispers against his lips before he kisses him.
When Draco pulls back, Harry is left gasping while Draco looks smug. Harry playfully pushes him away, but Draco catches his wrist, using the momentum to twirl Harry back into his arms.
"And, Cornell isn't that far from Juilliard. We'll still see each other plenty. As for the rest... Harry, have you considered that all that dancing might actually help?"
Harry furrows his brow as his breath evens out. He steps out of Draco's embrace, moving through a series of stretches as he ponders the question.
"What do you mean?"
"Think about it," Draco explains, his voice taking on that tone he uses when he's particularly excited about an idea. He begins to pace, gesticulating enthusiastically.
"You'll be pushing your body to its limits every day. By the time you get back to your dorm, you'll be so physically exhausted that your mind might not have the energy for nightmares."
Harry pauses mid-stretch, blinking as he considers this.
"You really think so?"
Draco nods emphatically, stopping his pacing to face Harry.
"Absolutely. Physical exertion can be incredibly beneficial for sleep quality. Combine that with the mental stimulation of learning new routines, and I bet you'll find yourself sleeping better than you have in years."
A glimmer of hope flickers in Harry's chest. He resumes his stretches with renewed energy.
"That... actually makes sense."
"Of course it does," Draco says with a playful smirk. He drops down to the grass, leaning back on his elbows.
"I'm a future Biology and Chemistry double major, remember? I know these things."
Harry rolls his eyes, but he's smiling now. He executes a perfect arabesque, holding the position as he speaks.
"Oh, excuse me, Mr. Science. You may be the future doctor, but you forget I took all the same classes as you did."
Draco's expression softens as he watches Harry move with fluid grace. He sits up, reaching for Harry's hand.
"Seriously, though, Harry. You're going to be amazing. And on the tough days, when the nightmares do come, or when you're feeling overwhelmed... I'm just a phone call away. You can talk to me about any dream you have,"
Harry feels a lump form in his throat and a shiver of unease goes through his body as Draco once again brings up talking to him about his dreams. He ignores it as he allows Draco to pull him down, settling into his lap for a gentle kiss.
When they part, Harry whispers against Draco's lips, "What did I do to deserve you?"
Guilt flashes across Draco's expression, there and then gone, but it doesn't go unnoticed by Harry. Draco reaches out to cup Harry's face, stroking his jaw.
"You deserve everything," Draco says, his face looking torn and conflicted as he pulls Harry into another kiss, this one fiercer and far less sweet.
It takes his breath away and with it his feelings of unease.
They break apart and Harry slides off Draco's lap, lying back on the grass. Draco follows suit, and they lay in comfortable silence for a while, watching the clouds drift overhead through the gaps in the leaves. Harry feels some of the tension leave his body, replaced by a cautious optimism.
"Draco?" he says after a while, turning his head to look at his boyfriend.
"Hmm?" Draco responds, mirroring the movement.
"Thank you. For believing in me, even when I don't believe in myself."
Draco reaches out, brushing a stray lock of hair from Harry's forehead. His golden eyes are warm with affection.
"We're in this together, nightmares, dance classes, chemistry labs and all."
As they lay there in the peaceful meadow, a gentle breeze rustling the leaves above them, Harry feels, for the first time in a long while, that maybe, just maybe, everything will be okay.
The soft glow of the bedside lamp casts long shadows across their shared room in the house. Harry sits cross-legged on the bed, his fingers absently tracing the pattern on the comforter. Dark circles accent his green eyes, making Draco anxious. Draco leans against the windowsill, his golden eyes fixed on Harry with a mixture of concern and frustration.
"Harry, please," Draco says softly, his voice strained.
"You can't keep bottling everything up like this. The nightmares, the visions... I can see they're wearing you down."
Harry's jaw clenches.
"I'm fine, Draco. I told you, I can handle it."
Draco pushes off from the windowsill, taking a step closer to the bed.
"But you don't have to handle it alone. I'm right here, Harry. I want to help. You just need to let me in."
"I don't need help!" Harry snaps, his green eyes flashing. "I'm not some fragile thing that needs to be coddled."
Draco runs a hand through his platinum hair, frustration evident in every line of his body.
"That's not what I'm saying, and you know it. I just... I can't stand seeing you suffer in silence."
Harry's expression softens slightly, but there's still a stubborn set to his jaw.
"I appreciate your concern, but I'm dealing with it in my own way."
Draco hesitates, conflict clear on his face. Then, almost involuntarily, the words slip out: "Severus noticed something was wrong. He asked me if you were okay."
The room goes deathly quiet. Harry's eyes widened, and hurt and betrayal flashed across his features. "You... you talked to Severus about me? About this?"
Draco realizes his mistake immediately. "Harry, I—"
"How could you?" Harry's voice is low and dangerous.
Draco watches as Harry shoots up from his seat, a wave of fiery anger surging across his face. His fists clench at his sides, knuckles turning white. Hurt pulsating across every inch of his body, as his breath seems to stall. It makes panic thrum through Draco like fiendfyre.
"That was private, Draco. Between us." Harry says in a strained voice.
"I didn't tell him anything specific!" Draco exclaims, his own temper flaring, "It was after your…it was a few days after our last trip to the grocery store,"
Harry sneers, "You mean my episode,"
Draco scrambles to think of a response a way to redirect the conversation.
"He wanted to send you to a…facility-"
Draco smells Harry's rising panic before it even breaks across his face.
"No!" Harry all but shouts over him, looking at Draco with fear-filled eyes as if at any moment he expects Draco to take him away.
It breaks his heart.
"I shut him down, sweetheart. What else could I do?" Draco says helplessly.
Harry laughs bitterly. "Oh, I don't know, maybe talk to me instead of discussing me behind my back?"
"I've been trying to talk to you!" Draco's voice rises, his usual composure cracking. "But you always brush it off, saying you're fine when we both know you're not!"
"So what, you think forcing me to talk about it is going to magically fix everything?" Harry's voice drips with sarcasm, "Sorry, Draco, but I've had enough of other people trying to control my life."
Draco flinches as if struck.
"Is that what you think I'm doing? Trying to control you?"
Draco wants to seethe, he wants to bare his teeth and ripe out the throat of any person who dares to compare his actions to the abusive and controlling ones of Albus Dumbledore or worse Harry's relatives. It makes him feel like he is one step closer to becoming his father.
But when that person is Harry, it leaves him with nowhere to direct his feelings.
"Aren't you?" Harry challenges, taking a step closer, "Deciding what's best for me without even asking what I want?"
Aren't you doing to Harry exactly what he did to you, an insidious voice whispers.
No! He is different. He loves Harry. He would never hurt Harry the way that his father betrayed him. He just wants to ease Harry's burden. For him to trust Draco and lean on him. To not focus so much on the visions so things can go back the way they were before everything exploded in his face.
Draco feels his hackles rise in defense.
"What did you want me to do? Tell him yes? Give him time to form better arguments?" Draco shouts, his cool facade completely shattered.
Harry glares at him from stubborn eyes.
"I wanted you to not make decisions for me," He growls.
In a blur of motion, Draco is directly in front of Harry, gripping his shoulders.
"But you refuse to make any kind of decision," Draco spits into Harry's face, "Do you have any idea what it's like, watching the person you love suffer night after night, knowing they won't let you in to help?"
Harry's anger falters, replaced by a flicker of guilt. "Draco..."
"I'm terrified, Harry," Draco admits, his voice breaking. "Terrified that one day, these nightmares, these visions, whatever they are... they're going to take you somewhere I can't follow. And you won't even let me try to understand."
The fight drains out of Harry all at once. He slumps forward, resting his forehead against Draco's chest. Draco catches him, his arms circling his frail frame and pulling him to his chest while guilt runs wild in him, knowing what a hypocrite he is being. He doesn't know what else to do though. Harry clearly needs to talk to someone and Draco is the only one who actually knows what is going on. A dark part of Draco also knows it is the only way he will know if Harry ever remembers 'too much'. He will have to do damage control if that ever happen but for now Draco pushes that thought away.
"I'm scared too," Harry whispers at last, so quietly that only Draco's vampire hearing can catch it, "What if... what if I tell you everything and you decide it's too much? That I'm too broken?"
Draco's arms wrap tighter around Harry, holding him closer.
"You're not broken," he says fiercely. "You're dealing with things no one should have to face. But you don't have to face them alone. Please talk to me,"
Harry looks up, meeting Draco's gaze. There are unshed tears in his eyes and Draco knows that he indirectly caused them.
"I don't know how to let you in, Draco. I've been keeping them to myself for months now,"
Draco accepts the lie though he suspects that Harry has been dealing with them long before he is willing to admit even to himself. Draco cups Harry's face in his hands, his touch gentle despite the strength he knows Harry possesses.
"Just start with one," he pleads, a gentle nudge.
"One," Harry concedes, and Draco is thrown back in time to when he finally wore Harry down enough to confess one of his theories about what Draco was.
He feels the tension slowly bleeds out of the room and he moves Harry's pliant body back to the bed, pulling Harry into his lap. Harry curls against his chest his face hidden in the crook of Draco's neck. Draco listens as Harry hesitates, his muscles clenched in his body, his heart a thumping beat.
"There's this one. It always starts the same way. I'm in a small dark space, somehow I think it is a cup- I mean a closet. It always feels so familiar like I've spent a lot of time there. I'm sitting on a thin mattress and I can see sparse light on the other side of the door. I'm filled with a sort of longing for it to open, but at the same time dread for it to," Harry pauses his voice sounding hollow, "I feel so disappointed and lonely, like I was born wrong,"
Draco stiffens, his arms turning to stone around Harry, but he doesn't say anything worried that one wrong move will shatter Harry's wiliness to open up.
"Sometimes there are voices on the other side of the door. My relatives, calling me a freak and saying that I deserved to be in there. Albus's, Sirius, and Remus's worrying about how much they can trust me with my connection to…someone. I never catch the name. Other times it's Ron and Hermione fretting if they are right to follow me so blindly, doubting if I even know what I am doing,"
"But the worst is when it is quiet. When I feel like I've been forgotten and no one will ever let me out. That I eventually will forget what light looks like,"
Harry huddles deeper into Draco arms as the words leave his mouth, trembling taking over his body and Draco feels his protective instincts surge with his anger. He finds his hand unconsciously petting Harry's hair, in agitation.
"Harry," Draco says in a tense voice causing Harry's eyes to glance up and meet his own.
"Did your relatives ever force you to sleep in a closet?"
Harry shakes his head, "No, I used to have to sleep in the living room, but Albus took care of that by having a talk with them and forced them to let me sleep in Dudley's spare room,"
Draco clenches his teeth in frustration at the mention of Dumbledore but he lets it pass, instead focusing on the fact that Harry used to sleep in the living room.
"That's horrible, sweetheart," he murmurs in a low voice, "I could go kill them for you. I wouldn't even drink a drop of their blood,"
Harry snorts whipping away a few escaped tears, "Draco, we've been over this. You are not killing anyone for me,"
"Maybe just a little scare then?" Draco says with a teasing smile, happy to feel Harry relaxing against him.
Draco can tell Harry is fighting a smile as he sits up and sternly stares down Draco, "Listen here vampire, you are not to go near my relatives or anyone else who has 'wronged me' with out my explicit permission,"
Draco smirks, but bows his head in solemn agreement.
"Yes, my darling little human," Draco breathes, making Harry shriek in surprise as he, latches onto Harry's hips and tips him back without warning to kiss his neck.
Harry finds himself in a familiar corridor of Hogwarts, the stone walls cool against his back as he leans against them. He's just endured another grueling Potions class, his patience wearing thin from Snape's cutting remarks.
As students file out of the classroom, chattering amongst themselves, Harry straightens up, eyes scanning the crowd. His gaze locks onto a familiar shock of platinum blonde hair.
Draco Malfoy emerges from the classroom, flanked by Crabbe and Goyle. His grey eyes meet Harry's green ones, and a cruel smirk curls his lips.
"Well, well," Draco drawls, loud enough for everyone to hear. "If it isn't Saint Potter. Tell me, how does it feel to be the teacher's least favourite for once?"
Harry's fists clench at his sides, but he forces his voice to remain level.
"Shove off, Malfoy."
A flash of malice passes across Draco's face. He steps closer, his voice dropping to a venomous whisper. "What's wrong, Potter? Can't handle a taste of your own medicine? It must be so difficult, not being worshipped for once."
Harry's control snaps. He shoves Draco hard, sending him stumbling back into Crabbe and Goyle. "You don't know anything about me, Malfoy!"
Draco's eyes narrow dangerously. With a subtle nod to his cronies, he lunges forward. Before Harry can react, Crabbe and Goyle have grabbed his arms, holding him in place as Draco's fist connects with his stomach.
Harry doubles over, gasping for breath. Draco leans in close, his breath hot on Harry's ear. "I know more than you think, Potter. I know you're nothing but a fraud, a scared little boy playing at being a hero."
With a final sneer, Draco steps back. "Let him go," he commands, and Crabbe and Goyle release Harry, letting him slump to the floor.
As Draco walks away, his laughter echoing off the stone walls, Harry struggles to his feet. His body aches, but it's nothing compared to the burning humiliation and anger coursing through him.
In that moment, staring at Draco's retreating back, Harry feels a hatred so intense it frightens him. Mostly because he knows how right Draco is.
He's no hero. He can't even save himself.
Harry jolts awake, his heart racing and his body covered in a cold sweat. The vivid memory of Draco's unfamiliar cruel laughter lingers in his mind, making him shudder. He reaches out instinctively, seeking the comforting coolness of Draco's skin, but his hand meets only empty sheets.
Panic seizes him for a moment before he remembers – Draco had mentioned going hunting with Blaise tonight. Harry sits up, running a shaky hand through his hair as he tries to calm his breathing.
The memory –no dream – felt so real. He can almost feel the phantom pain where Draco's fist is connected to his stomach. But that wasn't real, was it? That wasn't his Draco. Draco would never hurt him.
Or would he?
Harry stumbles out of bed and makes his way to the bathroom. He splashes cold water on his face and stares at his reflection in the mirror. Dark circles under his eyes testify to his disturbed sleep patterns.
"Get a grip," he mutters to himself. "It was just a dream."
But even as he says it, doubt gnaws at him. These visions, these memories, they feel too real to dismiss. The Draco in his dreams is so different from the Draco he knows now – cruel where his Draco is kind, malicious where his Draco is loving.
Still, despite all his trust, he didn't tell Draco that sometimes in his cupboard dream, it is his voice on the other side of the door, making fun of the 'Golden Boy' and his hideous scar and rat nest hair. Taunting him about all the people his fame had failed to save.
Harry makes his way back to the bedroom, perching on the edge of the bed. His eyes fall on a framed photo on the nightstand – him and Draco at prom, both smiling widely. Draco's arm is around his waist, protective and loving.
He picks up the frame, tracing Draco's face with his finger. This is real, he tells himself. This Draco is real.
But the uncertainty lingers. What if the Draco in his visions is the true Draco? What if Draco woke up one day and revealed he rather be wrapped around the pretty black haired girl from his vision instead of Harry? What if this loving, supportive boyfriend is just a facade? A trick that he is certain the conniving bully in his dreams could easily pull off.
Feeling sick Harry sets the photo down, his hands shaking slightly. He wants to trust Draco, wants to believe in the love they share. But it's hard. He hates to admit it but the focus of the visions had played a large role in his reluctance to tell Draco about them, a seed of distrust always lingering and building after each one.
As the first rays of dawn begin to peek through the curtains, Harry remains sitting on the bed, caught between two versions of Draco – the bully from his visions and the loving boyfriend he knows. He doesn't know which one to believe anymore, and that terrifies him more than any nightmare ever could.