I'm too exhausted to fight anymore.
Steam lingered in the air from his shower, fogging Harry's glasses and making his shirt cling to damp skin. "Draco," Harry greeted, stepping to the side to let him pass.
"Harry," Draco nodded politely before shutting himself in the bathroom.
Things had been strange since their midnight conversation a few nights before. Draco no longer seemed interested in making Harry's life a living Hell, and Harry, while grateful, didn't know how to interact with a Malfoy who wasn't actively hostile. Were they friends now? It was hard to tell.
Things were undeniably awkward.
But he could handle that. He had expected it. What he hadn't expected was Draco's sudden and inexplicable shift into beingchatty.
"Do you think the mimbulus mimbletonia could grow outside of the greenhouse if we had enough Witch's soil?" He had asked randomly during a lesson on the Great Goblin revolts of 1343.
"I literally do not know what that is." Harry had replied, only to receive a disapproving shake of the head from Draco and a dirty look from Hermione for chatting during a lecture.
"Does having a family disqualify you from being a professor?" He asked at breakfast the next day. "All our teachers are damnably single. It can't possibly be a coincidence."
And yet, despite the suddenness of the shift, Harry couldn't say he wasn't enjoying himself.
"You should ask. I'm sure McGonagall would love to explain the intricacies of her love life to you," Harry had replied, sharing a conspiratorial grin with Draco before turning back to the group.
Draco was clever and curious, and his mind never seemed to stop. It was all things Harry had been vaguely aware of before, but watching him switch topics mid-sentence was different up close.
The bathroom clicked open, a fresh haze of citrus-scented steam wafting out into the common space. Draco walked out, half-dressed in standard school trousers and white socks, water dripping onto his bare torso from underneath the towel draped over his head. Scars crisscrossed over his chest, and Harry's eyes traced the patterns that webbed over each visible rib on his too-skinny frame. He recognized the delicate lines of sectum sempra, long healed and pale, interrupted by a distinct second set of scars. They were jagged slashes, the skin shiny and pink like they had only fully healed recently. The faded Dark Mark was now the least worrying thing about his appearance all things considered.
"Can I use your wand to cast a drying charm? These blasted towels do a number on my hair."
Harry blinked. His focus still on a particularly brutal scar stretching from Draco's sternum to the base of his hip.
"Um," Harry faltered, his brain working slowly, "I can cast it for you."
Draco peered out from under the towel, glancing skeptically up at what Harry knew was a disaster of half-dry curls. "As if I'd let you man-handle my hair."
Harry blinked several times, "No, It's fine. I can do it."
Draco rolled his eyes and grumbled, "Well, I suppose it can't get much worse." He let the towel fall onto his shoulders and bent his head forward, wet strands of blonde hair clinging to his pale throat.
Harry coughed into his fist, pointing his wand. "Aerisorum." A heatless wind whipped forward and blew through the blond hair, taking most of the moisture with it. Harry never used the spell (it would destroy what little structure his hairdidhave) but he had seen Ginny use it enough times to get the idea. He carefully ruffled his fingers through Draco's hair, making sure it hit everywhere it needed to.
"There," Harry said, resolutely training his eyes above Draco's left eyebrow. He refused to be caught staring at the mysterious scars or the dark mark on display. He wouldn't be the one to ruin whatever had shifted between them.
Draco tossed his head experimentally. "It'll do," He plucked a white shirt from the top of his trunk and slid it on. He turned away from Harry as he buttoned, as if only now realizing what Harry could see.
"How are you feeling?" Harry reached up to knot his tie before remembering he wasn't wearing one and fussed with his collar instead.
"Fine."
Harry nodded and pulled on his cloak. The full moon was tomorrow, and if Remus was anything to go by, Dracomustbe feeling it. But it seemed his determination to act normal was winning out. Maybe it was hard to admit he was struggling if he couldn't explainwhy.
"Um." Harry swiveled around, "Draco, you should know-" Harry inhaled, his hands suspended in front of him as he tried to figure out what he wanted to say. "Well, the thing is-" God, he should have mentioned it as soon as he found out.
"Harry, are you having an episode?" Draco's face was baffled, his robes pulled halfway over one shoulder.
"You should know that I know." Harry finally said quickly, "About you and the-" He motioned vaguely to the ceiling and looked back at Draco with a fair amount of desperation.
Draco was very still, his eyebrows knit together.
"I just need you to know that you don't have to hide anything," Harry said, the words still coming out too fast. "I already know, is all."
Their eyes were locked, and Draco's slowly widened as the silence lengthened between them.
"I don't know what you're talking about." His voice was quiet and brittle, and he turned away to finish buttoning up his school robes. "But I'd request you not mention it again if it's all the same to you."
"Alright," Harry whispered.
Draco pulled the ends of his hair free from his collar and tucked a piece behind his ear. His face was pale when he turned back, a pleasant smile where horror had been moments before. "Right then, I'm famished. Shall we get breakfast?"
"Hiya, Harry. Malfoy." Ron glanced at Pansy and made a face, "Parkinson."
She smiled without missing a beat, "Weasel."
Ron settled into his seat next to Harry, pulling two slices of toast off the overflowing platter. "And here I thought the ghosts were the only things determined to haunt me." He wasn't exactly whispering, and the hand in front of his face did little to hide the comment.
"As if I'd bother hauntingyou." Pansy tapped her perfectly manicured nails against her teacup, sipping casually. "You wouldn't even qualify for the short-list, I'm afraid."
Harry chuckled, and his eyes found Draco's without entirely meaning to. Draco grinned, his eyes sparkling as Ron continued to mutter hostilities under his breath. Harry (who loved and cherished his dear friend) returned the grin before focusing on his plate of marmalade toast, his stomach tightening pleasantly.
Draco's plate was nearly empty, and for the first time this term, it wasn't because Draco decided to stage a hunger strike. He ate ravenously, finishing his first plate only to pile on a second helping of eggs and toast, finishing that as well. It was probably because of the approaching shift, but Harry would take it as a win regardless.
"Do you want to play quidditch today?" Ron asked around a mouthful of bread. "I could gather enough people to do a scrimmage match if you wanted."
"I don't know, Ron." Draco was technically scheduled to spend the afternoon with Flitwick, but with how well things had been going, he had hoped they would spend the afternoon in the dorm. Harry actually enjoyed Draco's company, as horrifying as the thought may be. Their conversations were quiet and thoughtful, and sitting in silence was to be expected. It was peaceful now that the animosity was gone, and getting away from him wasn't as enticing as it had been.
"Oh, please?" Ron leaned over, widening his bright blue eyes dramatically, "It's been ages, and there's nothing todo."
"You could always revise," Hermione added, not entirely paying attention to the group. She had a new book out, but Harry hadn't caught the title.
"I'm not convinced he can read," Pansy snickered, and Draco covered a laugh with his hand.
Ron shot them two fingers.
"Isn't it going to rain later? Harry shrugged, forcing his face to be neutral.
"Not until late. Come off it, mate. It'll be fun."
Draco put three massive spoonfuls of sugar into his tea. He blew on it, his long, thin fingers stirring slowly. "Can I watch?" He asked, tapping the spoon on the rim of his cup before setting it down.
Harry blinked, "what?"
Draco matched his baffled stare, "Your quidditch match?"
"Oh," A flush spread up the base of Harry's spine, though he was unsure why.
Pansy leaned forward, grinning conspiratorially at the group. "That sounds like a great idea. Don't mind if I join too?"
"I didn't know you played?" Harry didn't know much about her, if he was honest, despite her near-constant presence in his room. She liked Draco and…Fashion? Maybe? Or was that sexist?
"Merlin, no." She scrunched her nose. "But I'm more than happy to watch." She winked at Harry. She would keep an eye on Draco then.
"Yeah, sure." Harry heard himself say. He watched Draco's hands tremble ever-so-slightly as he lifted his teacup to his lips. He sipped the sugary liquid and locked eyes with Harry over the rim. Harry looked away.
"So, we meet at the quidditch pitch after classes? I'll gather the lads-"
"And ladies," Hermione said, not looking up.
"And ladies," Ron conceded easily, "and we'll form teams." He clapped a hand on Harry's shoulder, "I'm bloody excited. It's never the same without you, mate."
Harry smiled. He'd been flying several times since school started, taking his broom and circling the grounds until his hands went numb and it was no longer safe. He'd successfully avoided playing in any matches, but he had yet to figure out why it felt important to say no. And if he didn't have a good reason, who was he to ruin his friends' fun? "I'll be there."
"Brilliant!" Pansy said in a blatantly rude impression of Ron.
Harry interrupted whatever Ron was about to say, widening his eyes at Draco. "We should probably go, shouldn't we?" Draco shrugged innocently, sipping his tea with a hint of a smirk at the corner of his mouth.
"You know, 'not speaking' is always a choice you can make, Parkinson," Ron said, as much Harry wished he wouldn't.
"Glad you're aware of your options, Weasel."
Why have you done this to me?Harry tried to communicate with an exaggerated smile and tilt of his head. Draco snorted, taking the world's tiniest sips of tea as Ron and Pansy descended into petty bickering.
"Do you always take your tea with three scoops of sugar?" Harry asked once they had settled into their seats for Transfiguration. They were the first to arrive, and the classroom was empty aside from them. After five uninterrupted minutes of arguing, Hermione had slammed her book shut and ordered everyone to go to class early. Harry could have hugged her.
"I do," Draco said, picking at a bit of dirt under his nail. "Why do you ask?"
"Oh, nothing. I just never noticed before." For better or worse, Harry had noticed a lot about Draco over the years. He knew that he preferred tea over coffee and never poured gravy over his food, opting to pool it on the side of his plate to dip into. He knew he always missed lunch on exam days and that he never touched the seafood at feasts. Harry had always assumed he was allergic, but he couldn't ask without admitting he'd been watching and before now, that was a mortifying thing to concede.
Draco hummed, "I have a bit of a sweet tooth, I'm afraid."
Harry had noticed that, too. "Huh. I'd never have guessed," He said instead.
"Mother hates it, but I've never seen the harm."
"She sends you chocolate, doesn't she?"
Draco flashed him a grin, "I never said she wasn't an enabler."
Soon enough, students began to filter into the classroom, and quiet chatter quickly filled the space. Draco didn't say much as the seats filled around them, but it was a different silence than before, a neutral quiet that was the natural consequence of being comfortable enough to sit in one's thoughts. His mouth pulled into the tiniest of smiles as Harry glanced over at him for the third time.
They transfigured tea kettles into cauldrons for the lesson, focusing on getting the exact measurements correct in order to make the cauldron standard-issue and usable for most potions. Draco sat back and watched, a furrow in his brow.
"You're not very good at this," He said after Harry had created an abomination of a cauldron, spout still intact with a pink floral pattern.
"Oh, shut it," Harry replied, fighting a laugh.
Classes passed quickly enough. A blur of homework and lectures and small glances across tables. Until the final class was dismissed, and they found themselves walking towards the quidditch pitch, broom slung over Harry's shoulder.
"Took you long enough," Pansy said as they approached her seat in the stands. "I've been stuck watching the weasel do his sad little laps for ages."
Draco sat and leaned into her space, hooking his chin over her shoulder. "Hi, Pans," He said quietly. His energy had waned over the course of the day, and the high-spirited wittiness from the morning was now a tired resolve to keep his eyes open. Any other day, they would have immediately returned to the dorm and let Draco sleep for a while before dinner. But Draco had waved off Harry's concern and insisted on watching the match. He was surprisingly determined about the whole thing.
"You sure you'll be good here?" Harry rubbed the back of his neck, looking away from where Pansy's hand had started to brush through Draco's hair.
"I think we can handle watching you blunder about for a bit," Draco said, his voice softly teasing. "Dotrynot to fall off your broom, Potter."
Harry suppressed a smile and looked to Pansy, "I don't know how you put up with him."
"I take it day by day." She nodded her head solemnly as if it was a great ordeal. Draco pinched her elbow, and she yelped.
"I am a delight, thankyouverymuch."
Harry was still grinning by the time he kicked off the stands to join the rest of the eighth years.
The games were fairly low stakes, with each team missing a beater and chaser to even out the numbers. Neville was indeed a demon with a bat and single-handedly defended better than any other beater Harry had seen. It was surprising he had never been on a house team before. Maybe he needed to publicly slay a magical snake to get enough confidence for the sport.
Harry was against Zacharius Smith, playing catch and release for the snitch. He wasn't terrible, but he was clearly better suited for Chaser, and more than once, Harry waited for him to see the snitch before diving for it himself. It hardly seemed fair otherwise.
Every so often, Harry glanced at the stands, his eyes immediately honing in on the white flash of hair. He couldn't tell if Draco was actually paying attention (occasionally, he was turned to Pansy, and other times he would be leaned out against the railing, his head following the players' movements) But Harry could tell by the set of his shoulders that he was relaxed and that was enough.
About an hour passed, and Ron called out that the next snitch would be the last. And Harry dove, having spotted it several minutes before but wanting to give Smith a chance. And then the game was over.
It had been a while since he'd really flown, and his muscles ached as they landed, his legs especially sore from where he had been gripping the broom. Dinner and then bed had never sounded so appealing.
The group buzzed with lingering energy as they stashed their brooms, shedding layers of shoulder pads and helmets onto the empty shelves. Harry would need to take a shower. He stunk.
"Good game," Harry clapped Smith on the shoulder. He grunted something and nodded before shuffling away to the other Hufflepuffs.
"Well, that certainly was something." Pansy's voice broke through the excited chatter, and Harry turned to where she was walking towards him. Draco was right behind her, his face flushed pink from the cold wind, a soft smile playing across his lips.
"It was alright," Draco shrugged, "Harry went easy on Smith, or he would have caught the snitch three more times at least."
Harry grinned, "You could tell, could you?"
Draco raised an amused eyebrow, "I hope you never pulled your punches with me, Potter. I don't think my ego could take the humiliation."
Draco seemed to switch between which name he called Harry entirely based on the whim of the moment, and it was utterly fascinating. He used 'Harry' whenever he was talking to him, but 'Potter' was almost a punctuation mark that he would throw haphazardly at the end of sentences. Occasionally, if Harry was very lucky, he would use both in the same breath.
Harry shrugged, "I'd better not say anything, in that case."
Draco feigned outrage, his jaw dropping open.
"Boys, boys. You're both very pretty. Now let's go get dinner, please." Pansy came between them, wrapping her arms through each of their elbows and pulling the pair toward where the rest of the group was heading inside.
"We'll just have to have a rematch someday," Draco grumbled, letting himself be dragged. "I'll make you eat those words."
"I doubt it, but you're always welcome to try."Somedaysettled deep in Harry's chest, a warm, tangible feeling that only grew as Draco shoved his body weight into Pansy, who, by proximity, shoved into Harry. He stumbled but caught himself before he could fall, still smiling. Draco never mentioned the future, not implied or otherwise. This was new. This was progress.
The group ate ravenously, shouting and laughing across the table. The easy competition and loud retelling of events warmed Harry to his bones in a way he hadn't felt since sixth year. For once, it was effortless to join in, and his face started to ache from grinning so much.
Next to him, Draco followed the conversation with his eyes, picking quietly at his plate. Despite having access to sleep potions, the dark circles under his eyes persisted, deep-rooted exhaustion pulling at the creases of his face even as he smiled politely.
Still, he couldn't ignore the fact that tomorrow was the full moon.
"Do you want to head back?" Harry whispered during a break in the larger conversation.
Draco shook his head, smiling, "I'll be fine. Don't miss out on your friends on my account."
Harry shrugged, "I don't mind."
A strange look passed over Draco's face, but before he could answer, Pansy swung an arm around his shoulders and pulled his attention back to the Slytherin trio.
Harry stared after him for a moment before letting out a long breath and returning to a chorus of laughter from his friends.
Dinner wrapped up quickly after that, with groups of students breaking off and starting the long trek back to the dorm until only Draco, Blaise, and Pansy remained at the table with Harry.
He didn't quite know what to do with himself after Hermione and Ron left, but the day had been so pleasant he couldn't bring himself to dwell on it. He was on the outskirts, and it was alright.
He stared around the room, trying his best not to look like an abandoned child. The large glass windows lining each wall were now stained glass with slowly shifting pictures of dragons and fairies and a very familiar depiction of a mermaid. The beams in the ceiling were different now, too, but Harry couldn't remember what they had looked like before. He just knew they were different.
"Harry, what do you think?" Blaise's voice chirped up from where the three had their heads close together.
"About what?"
"He hasn't been paying attention," Pansy rolled her eyes.
Draco was looking at him now, and Harry didn't know what to do with that. "Er, was I supposed to be?"
Blaise shrugged, and Pansy said, "Obviously," like it was an idiotic question to ask.
The corner of Draco's lips tugged into the hint of a smile, "We're talking about how to keep the older students off the Slytherin first years."
"Oh."
"I say we put a protective jinx on all of them. Give anyone casting a spell a nasty rebound curse." Pansy said, "Boils or warts or something."
Blaise rolled his eyes, "Only if you want to get expelled."
"Not strong enough to hurt anyone, just bad enough that we can tell who did it."
"That doesn't really change anything, Pans."
Harry couldn't contain a short laugh, "Wouldn't that make it so they couldn't cast spells on themselves?"
"Exactly," Draco said, standing up, "I was waiting for them to realize that on their own."
Pansy huffed and followed suit, "Well, I didn't hear you having any better ideas."
"Never said I did. I just know that's a one's terrible."
Harry chuckled and followed the group through the double doors of the Great Hall. By now, the four tables were nearly empty, and the hallways echoed as they walked.
"Has it really been that much of a problem?" Harry asked once Pansy and Draco had stopped bickering long enough for him to get the words out.
Blaise nodded, hands in his pockets, "First years are getting it a lot worse than everyone else. They don't know enough to fight back yet, I think."
Harry didn't know what to say. He knew firsthand how easy it was for students to turn on anyone they didn't like. More often than not, he'd been on the receiving end of that hostility. He glanced to Draco but didn't say anything.
"McGonagall has had all the heads of houses do a little speech, but a lot of good that does," Pansy said.
"We figure there's probably something we could do about it," Blaise said. "We're the oldest after all."
"More likely than not, they'll get bored and stop if we leave it be," Draco said.
Pansy scoffed, "And you call my ideas terrible."
They were nearly at the dorms, and Harry shrugged. "I can ask around. Try to figure out who's behind it." Blaise stroked the corner of the tapestry and let them in. "If you get their leader in trouble, there's a good chance the rest will stop."
"Good man." Blaise clapped him on the shoulder. "See, Draco? I told you he wasn't useless."
Harry shot a look at Draco, who shrugged helplessly, "I stand by what I said."
Draco didn't bother taking off his shoes before slumping onto his mattress. All the bones seemingly disappeared from his body.
"You alright?" Harry asked, unpacking his textbooks from his bag.
Draco made a sound not unlike a beached whale.
"Fair enough."
It was hard to tell if Draco fell asleep after that. His breathing softened, and he didn't move except for the occasional adjustment, but so often, Draco would lay for hours, and Harry could only tell he hadn't slept by the tone of his voice when he got up. If he'd slept, it was soft and permeable, but more often than not, it was jagged and strained, like he'd been holding his breath and was only now coming up for air.
So, Harry kept the lights low, and his footsteps muted as he went about his nightly routine, hoping that Draco was actually asleep and knowing he wouldn't say anything if he wasn't. He showered for the second time that day and changed into the oversized t-shirt and shorts that he used as pajamas. He stacked his textbooks neatly on his desk, laying out the half-finished essay he'd started that afternoon, and double-checked that Draco's wand was still secure in its box next to the two new vials of sleep potion. Thankfully, everything was where it was supposed to be, and he could feel the weight of his own wand stashed in his back pocket.
The wood grain had lost some of its luster with how often Harry opened it. But however excessive it was, he convinced himself each time that if he didn't check, it wouldn't be there, and the moment he got complacent would be when it went missing, so it was easier just to check.
He took out the schedule and glanced over it before sealing everything back in the box. He already knew what it said. Tomorrow was the first full moon at Hogwarts. For Harry, it would be very much the same as the days Draco went to therapy; only Draco wouldn't come back later in the evening, and he would stay away for an additional two days for what Harry could only assume was recovery time.
Harry tapped his fingers against the box. Draco wasn't the first werewolf Pomfrey had taken care of. Remus had been alright, hadn't he?
Were the jagged scars on Draco's chest from his transformations? What if he tried to kill himself while he was shifted? Would they even be able to stop him?
Harry's chest tightened, and he took a very slow, measured breath, sitting quietly on the edge of his mattress. Draco would be alright. Pomfrey would have already thought of that. There had to be a plan to keep him safe already in motion.
He leaned his head forward between his knees, trying not to look up at Draco because then he would start counting the rise and fall of his shoulders, and that wasn't helpful. He was alright, and he would be alright.
Maybe Draco wouldn't even want to try. Today had been such a good day, and his mood had improved so much this week. Maybe he was getting better, and nothing would go wrong. Maybe, for once in Harry's life, everything would be fine, and Harry was worrying too much. He had never wanted to be overdramatic so badly in his life.
The mattress squeaked, and Harry startled, his heartbeat heavy in his throat.
"I'm supposed to be the unstable one, Potter." Draco sat up, pulling his hair back into a ponytail before letting it fall naturally over his shoulders. His voice was rough.
"Don't worry, you still are."
Draco rolled his eyes and stood. He kicked off his shoes, leaving them in a pile at the end of the bed. He opened his trunk and gathered the tell-tale green silk of his nightclothes. "Well, go on, then. What's got you all in a sort?"
Harry rubbed the heels of his palms into his eyes, "nothing. Just tired."
Draco paused, his arm halfway out of his outer robe, but he didn't say anything. He shuffled over to the bathroom, the door clicking behind him.
"Is your animagus a crup or just a dog?" Draco asked once he'd left the bathroom, now dressed head to toe in silky emerald pajamas, looking soft and rumpled.
Harry looked up at him skeptically, "Just a dog."
"Oh? What breed?"
Harry resisted the urge to chuckle, "Brown? 'M not sure."
He fiddled with something on his desk, his voice deceptively neutral. "Can I see?"
Harry blinked, "why?"
"Curiosity, I suppose." He shrugged.
Harry could imagine it, shifting in their tiny room and letting Draco pet behind his ears like Ron tended to do. He had never been particularly shy about his animagus form, but something about the image was too intimate, and he felt his head shake before he decided. "I'm not really supposed to shift."
"Oh, of course."
"I would, but yeah," he said quickly, wincing. He hadn't considered that Draco might take it as a personal slight as if his reluctance was because of who he was. But wasn't it?
Draco seemed unbothered, nonetheless, "I think if I had an animagus, I'd want something with wings. Maybe an owl." His stare lingered on something in the distance. "I'd like to be able to fly."
Harry hummed. If Draco were an owl, he'd probably be colored like Hedwig-snowy and beautiful. Maybe his wolf form was that same color. "That sounds nice."
"Do you mind?" Draco raised his hand to the sconce, ready to turn it off, and Harry motioned him to go ahead. The orange light filtered out until Harry could only make out the subtle glow of Draco's hair caught in the moonlight. "What would you have picked? If you had the choice?"
Harry paused, busying himself with adjusting his duvet, "I'm not sure. I honestly didn't think about it very much." beinganythingother than human had been his main concern at the time.
Draco's mattresses squeaked as he got comfortable. "I would have thought you would have been something more menacing." He paused, "Like a bear."
This pulled a deep laugh out of Harry. His trips to Diagon Alley would have been very different if that were the case. "Do I seem like a bear to you?"
Draco's quiet laugh joined his, so unmistakeable that Harry didn't need light to imagine his wide grin, the dimple in his cheek. "I don't know," he said through short gasps, "Just something big and bulky."
"I'm literally shorter than you-" Harry wheezed, his eyes shut tight.
"That's not the point-"
The conversation was incoherent after that, each comment making them descend further into nonsensical bouts of laughter. Harry wasn't even sure what they were talking about by the end, and as the room slowly quieted, a happy warmth seemed to fill the space.
"We should get to sleep," Harry wiped at his eyes, "Do you need your dreamless potion?"
Draco's went quiet. "Yes, please," he said, his voice slightly more strained than before, and Harry immediately regretted asking, like he had dumped a pale of cold water over the good mood.
Harry blindly grabbed at his desk until he found the box and pulled it over to him. Unlocked, he used his wand to lock their door and cast Lumos. He was only allowed to keep two doses in the room, each in a separate vial that he would return to Pomfrey in order to get more. He leaned over the empty space to place one in Draco's outstretched palm.
"Whenever you're ready. I'll just need the vial back in the morning," Harry assured at the anxious look on Draco's face. "Are you okay?"
"Just tired," he parroted Harry's words and raised an eyebrow as if daring him to push.
Harry gave an exaggerated sigh and extinguished his spell. His fingers traced the two wands, the schedule, and the last potion vial before he secured the lid back onto the box and shoved it under his pillow.
Minutes passed in silence, the rhythm of Draco's breath mixing with the sound of his own heartbeat. Draco hadn't opened the vial yet, and as Harry lay still, eyes closed, he realized he was waiting for the familiar sound of the lid before he could fall asleep. Tomorrow would be a long day, and he wanted to know that Draco would at least be well-rested for it.
He'll be alright.
"It doesn't hurt as much as I expected it to, you know." Draco's voice cut through the darkness, strained and in a higher register than before. "They kept telling me it would be like the cruciatus, but I don't see the comparison." A pause, "It hardly hurts at all, really."
Harry wasn't sure what he was supposed to say. They hadn't so much as said the wordwerewolfto each other, and here Draco was talking about the transformation unprompted. Harry inhaled and asked, "Yeah?" as quietly as he could.
Draco's voice seemed to gain confidence, and Harry couldn't tell if he was saying the words for Harry's benefit or his own. "Yes. I suppose I can't complain. I'll get a few days out of class, at least. And Poppy is a wonderful nurse." He said it with a hint of a question, and Harry realized with horror that Draco wasscared.
"She's the best you could ask for," Harry said, remaining very still on his mattress.
"Exactly. And McGonagall will be there too."
"I'm glad. They know what they're doing."
He took a shaky breath, "It will be better here than at the manor, I think."
"It will be, Draco." Harry suddenly wished more than anything that he would have shown Draco his animagus. That he would have shifted and spent the evening distracting him from everything tomorrow would bring. But now it was too late, and he was frozen in place, "I promise you're going to be fine."
Draco made a high-pitched sound of agreement, and the pop of the vial echoed in the quiet. He heard a swallow and then silence. Harry turned so that he was facing him, his eyes just barely able to make out his shape breathing in the dark, and he began to count.