Nightmares
As the days dragged on, the pressure of the upcoming due date for the potions project loomed over Harry and Draco like an ominous cloud. They had missed their chance to test the potion in their last lesson, and the tension between them only seemed to worsen. The task now felt impossible, complicated further by the broader chaos engulfing Hogwarts.
Draco, who had been reluctantly serving as one of Umbridge's helpers, found himself caught in a web of control and surveillance that was suffocating. The constant barrage of new rules and restrictions imposed by the toad-like professor had transformed Hogwarts into a place where students moved like mindless drones, their freedom and individuality stripped away. It was as if the very essence of the school had been drained, leaving behind a bleak and oppressive atmosphere.
Draco's role in Umbridge's regime involved gathering information on suspected subversive activities, which made him increasingly aware of the growing resistance among students. Yet, he was completely unaware that Harry was at the center of this secret organization, leading the charge against Umbridge's tyranny. The irony of it all was almost cruel—Draco was unknowingly working against the very person who was fighting for the freedom he yearned for.
Every day seemed to bring a new rule or punishment, and the weight of it all felt like a constant, crushing pressure. The school, once a place of learning and camaraderie, had become a soul-sucking prison. The joy had been drained from it, replaced by fear and distrust. Even simple tasks, like completing a potions project, were overshadowed by the constant strain of navigating this new, oppressive reality.
In the midst of this chaos, Harry and Draco were trapped in their own personal struggle. The potion, which should have been a straightforward project, was now another source of frustration and unresolved tension. The need to test it was urgent, but with Draco entangled in Umbridge's schemes and Harry feeling increasingly isolated, finding a way to collaborate effectively seemed almost impossible.
The looming deadline was a reminder of the stakes—both for their project and for the broader fight against the darkness that had engulfed their world. They needed to find a way to overcome their differences, but the oppressive atmosphere and their tangled emotions made every step forward feel like a battle in itself.
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Draco had been patrolling the corridors as part of his duties for Umbridge, tasked with maintaining order and keeping an eye on students. The night was dark and silent, the rain from earlier still drumming softly against the castle walls.
As Draco walked past the Gryffindor common room, he heard muffled sounds coming from within. Curious and slightly concerned, he approached the door, which was slightly ajar. Peeking inside, he saw Harry tossing and turning in his sleep, his face contorted with fear and distress. The muffled sounds were the cries and groans of someone trapped in a nightmare.
Draco hesitated for a moment, torn between his duties and the unexpected sight before him. He had always kept his distance from Harry, but seeing him in such a vulnerable state stirred something in Draco—a mix of empathy and confusion.
The next day, Draco found himself unable to shake the image from his mind. The dreams had been a topic of whispered conversation among students, but seeing Harry's distress firsthand had made it personal. Draco knew that Harry had been struggling with the aftermath of Cedric's death, the emotional scars evident in the nightmares that plagued him.
The deadline for their potions project was looming, and while the potion they had created—the Draught of Peace—was intended to calm and soothe, Draco saw an opportunity to use it for a purpose that extended beyond academic requirements.
The night after Draco had witnessed Harry's distressing nightmare, he was in the common room, struggling to focus on his own work. The potion they had brewed together was sitting in a flask on his desk, the clear liquid inside shimmering faintly. Draco's thoughts kept drifting back to Harry, to the way his face had looked in the throes of sleep, tormented by something he couldn't escape.
Draco knew that the Draught of Peace was designed to alleviate anxiety and bring tranquility, and although it wasn't specifically formulated for nightmares, it was worth a try. With the potion being one of the few things he had to offer, he resolved to make use of it.
As the hour grew late and the Slytherin common room quieted, Draco carefully poured a small amount of the potion into a clean vial. He packed it carefully into his bag, along with a note, his handwriting more tentative than usual. The note read:
For your nightmares. It might help. — D
With the vial and note secured, Draco made his way to Gryffindor Tower. The castle was eerily quiet, and every creak of the floorboards seemed amplified in the stillness. When he arrived at the entrance to the Gryffindor common room, he was relieved to find it open, the portrait of the Fat Lady swinging back to admit him.
Draco moved swiftly up the stairs to the dormitories, his heart pounding with a mix of nervousness and determination. He approached Harry's bed, the faint glow of moonlight casting shadows across the room. He saw Harry sleeping fitfully, his face scrunched in the remnants of another nightmare.
Draco placed the vial on the nightstand, his hands shaking slightly as he set the note beside it. He hesitated for a moment, his gaze lingering on Harry's troubled expression. The vulnerability in Harry's sleep seemed to cut through the animosity between them, making Draco question everything he had held onto so tightly.
With a final, silent exhale, Draco turned and left the room, his footsteps echoing softly down the corridor. He knew he was taking a risk, but the decision to offer help, however indirectly, was something he felt he had to do.
As Draco walked back to the Slytherin common room, he felt a strange mixture of relief and anxiety, unsure of what would come next. For now, all he could do was hope that the potion might provide some relief for Harry, and that, in some small way, it might bridge the gap that had formed between them.
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Harry woke up the next morning feeling utterly exhausted, his body heavy and drained from another night of restless sleep. Groggily, he reached for his glasses, squinting as he adjusted them on his face. The sunlight filtering through the curtains did little to alleviate the dark circles under his eyes.
As he began to orient himself, he noticed something new on his nightstand—a vial of potion with a note beside it. The sight of it immediately set him on edge. He picked up the vial, the liquid inside catching the morning light, and then read the note:
For your nightmares. It might help. — D
A surge of frustration and confusion washed over him. Draco Malfoy. Of course, it would be him. Harry's anger flared as he wondered if Draco was still trying to play some twisted game, perhaps trying to win the bet they had left unresolved. The idea that Draco could still be so manipulative, even when offering what seemed to be a genuine gesture, only fueled Harry's irritation.
He clenched the note in his hand, his mind racing with thoughts of Draco's motives. Was this some kind of trick? Harry thought, feeling the anger bubble up inside him. Was Malfoy trying to get into my good graces just to win a bet? The bitterness of the thought left him feeling more isolated than ever.
The potion itself, while potentially helpful, was now tainted by Draco's involvement. Harry's usual skepticism towards Draco was amplified by the recent tension and resentment, making it hard to accept the gift for what it might truly be—a genuine attempt to help, however awkwardly delivered.
He threw the note aside, the frustration making it difficult to think clearly. He couldn't deny the possibility that the potion might offer some relief, but the idea of accepting it, especially from Draco, felt like surrendering to a game he didn't want to play.
Sighing heavily, Harry reached for the vial with a sense of reluctant resignation. Maybe it was worth trying, despite the way it had come to him. He had to decide whether to let his anger continue to cloud his judgment or to give the potion a chance to prove itself. Either way, the unresolved tension with Draco still loomed large in his mind, making every decision feel more complicated than it should have been.
Harry stared at the vial for a long moment before finally uncorking it. He poured a small amount of the potion into a glass and studied its clear, faintly shimmering liquid. Despite his reservations, exhaustion had overtaken his anger, and the thought of a day free from the torment of nightmares was too tempting to ignore.
He took a deep breath and drank the potion in one swift gulp, its slightly bitter taste lingering on his tongue. Almost immediately, he felt a sense of calm begin to settle over him. The potion's soothing effects started to work their magic, making him feel more relaxed and less anxious.
With a tired sigh, Harry lay back on his bed, the potion's effects quickly making him feel drowsy. He let himself sink into the mattress, his body welcoming the reprieve from sleeplessness. The potion worked faster than he expected, and within minutes, he was drifting off into a deep, uninterrupted sleep.
The rest of the day passed in a blur of restful slumber. Harry slept through most of the daylight hours, the potion providing him with a much-needed break from the nightmares that had been plaguing him. His dreams were peaceful, a welcome change from the usual distressing images that haunted his nights.
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Harry woke up the next morning feeling as though he had emerged from a long, restful haze. The entire day he had spent sleeping, uninterrupted by nightmares, felt almost surreal. He stretched and rubbed his eyes, the relief of finally having a full day of peaceful dreams settling over him.
He was still troubled by the unanswered questions that lingered in his mind. How had Draco known about his nightmares? And how had the potion ended up in his room? The idea of Draco somehow discovering his struggles and then going to the trouble of delivering the potion was unsettling, to say the least. It didn't fit neatly into the animosity that had defined their relationship.
Despite the lingering discomfort, Harry couldn't deny that the potion had worked wonders. He felt more rested and less weighed down by the persistent anxiety that had plagued him. The sleep had been a welcome reprieve, a stark contrast to the relentless nightmares that had kept him up night after night.
He got out of bed and moved to the window, looking out at the dreary Hogwarts grounds. The rain had stopped, and the clouds were beginning to break apart. The weather mirrored his mood—clearing up after a storm.
He couldn't ignore the fact that their potions project was finally complete. The Draught of Peace had been successfully brewed and tested, and despite the personal turmoil, he and Draco had managed to finish it. The project itself was a small victory amid the larger chaos of their lives.
As he prepared for the day, Harry contemplated the strange turn of events. He knew he couldn't just ignore what had happened. The gesture, no matter how complicated by their past interactions, had been genuine and helpful. He would need to address it eventually, if only to understand what Draco's true intentions had been and how to move forward from there.
For now, Harry decided to focus on the immediate task at hand—getting through the day and preparing for the challenges ahead. The calm he had experienced thanks to the potion was a gift he didn't want to squander. And though he still harboured doubts and questions, he resolved to take things one step at a time, hoping that whatever had shifted in their dynamic would eventually become clearer.
Harry finished writing up the effects of the potion and how it worked then finally handed it to Professor Snape who was slightly impressed that they actually were capable of working together.
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Draco's voice echoed slightly in the empty hallway as he approached Harry, who was leaning against the stone wall with a contemplative look. The tension between them was palpable, but Draco was determined to address the issue, even if it meant confronting Harry directly.
"Potter," Draco began, his tone a mixture of impatience and awkwardness. "Did the potion work? Snape said we got outstanding marks, but I was curious about... other things."
Harry's head snapped up at the sound of Draco's voice, a mix of surprise and wariness in his eyes. He met Draco's gaze with a guarded expression. "Yeah, it worked," he replied tersely. "Thanks for that. But why do you care?"
Draco's brow furrowed slightly, struggling to find the right words. "I just wanted to make sure it actually did what it was supposed to," he said, trying to sound nonchalant. "I know we haven't exactly been on the best terms, but I—"
"—I don't get it, Malfoy," Harry interrupted, frustration evident in his voice. "Why go out of your way to help me? I thought we were done with all this. Are you still trying to win that bet, or is there something else?"
Draco's face flushed slightly at the accusation, his expression hardening. "It's not about the bet anymore, Potter," he said sharply. "I just wanted to help. Maybe you've been too wrapped up in your own problems to notice, but I'm not the same person I used to be."
Harry's eyes narrowed, his skepticism clear. "Then why the secrecy? Why not just talk to me instead of leaving potions and notes like some sort of... weird charity case?"
Draco looked away, struggling with his emotions. "I didn't know how else to approach it," he admitted, his voice softer now. "Things have been complicated, and I didn't want to make things worse. But I saw you suffering, and... I wanted to do something about it."
Harry's anger began to wane as he listened to Draco's hesitant explanation. The sincerity in Draco's voice was hard to ignore, but the tension still lingered. "Look, I appreciate the gesture," Harry said, trying to keep his voice steady. "But we need to figure out what's really going on between us. We can't just keep ignoring each other and pretending like everything's fine."
Draco nodded, his gaze meeting Harry's with a newfound understanding. "Agreed," he said quietly. "Maybe we should talk things through, if you're up for it."
Before Harry could respond, the sound of footsteps echoed down the corridor, signaling the end of their private conversation. The two of them exchanged one last, lingering look before Draco turned to leave, his steps echoing in the silence.
Harry watched him go, feeling a mix of relief and uncertainty. The conversation had opened a door, but where it would lead was still unclear. For now, Harry resolved to focus on the present and try to navigate the complex web of emotions and relationships that had become so entangled in their lives.
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The castle was eerily quiet as Harry wandered through the dimly lit corridors, his footsteps echoing softly against the stone walls. Despite his exhaustion, sleep eluded him, the nightmares returning with a vengeance and filling his mind with disturbing images. He needed to clear his head and hoped that a walk through the empty halls might help.
As he turned a corner, he saw a figure patrolling the hallway—a familiar, imposing presence. Draco Malfoy, in his usual uniform of a prefect, was making his rounds. Harry hesitated for a moment, unsure if he wanted to confront Draco. Their earlier conversation had been a step forward, but the tension between them was still thick.
Draco's eyes scanned the corridor methodically, his expression a mask of concentration. When he noticed Harry, his pace slowed, and he gave a slight nod of acknowledgment. "Potter," Draco said, his voice breaking the silence. "What are you doing out here?"
Harry shrugged, trying to appear nonchalant despite his inner turmoil. "Can't sleep," he admitted. "Figured a walk might help."
Draco's gaze softened slightly as he took in Harry's disheveled appearance. He could tell that Harry wasn't just physically restless; there was something deeper troubling him. "Another nightmare?" Draco asked, his tone uncharacteristically gentle.
Harry was taken aback by the question but didn't see a point in lying. "Yeah," he said quietly. "They've been coming back."
Draco looked down at the floor, struggling with his own thoughts. He knew he wasn't exactly the best person to offer comfort, but seeing Harry in such a state stirred something in him—an impulse to offer more than just a cold shoulder.
"Well," Draco said, taking a deep breath, "I'm on patrol, but if you need to talk or... anything, I'm here. I mean, I'm not going anywhere for a while."
Harry looked at Draco, surprised by the offer. The sincerity in Draco's voice was unexpected, but the familiar face provided a small sense of comfort. "Thanks," Harry said, though his voice was tinged with wariness. "I appreciate it."
Draco nodded, a mix of relief and awkwardness in his expression. "It's just—" he hesitated, "it's hard to see you like this. And after everything, I guess... I don't want to be the cause of more pain."
Harry gave a small, appreciative nod, acknowledging Draco's words. "Well, since you're here, maybe just walking with me for a bit wouldn't hurt."
Draco nodded and fell into step beside Harry, the two of them walking side by side in silence for a few moments. The rhythmic sound of their footsteps was a soothing counterpoint to the turmoil Harry felt inside. The castle's shadows seemed a bit less ominous with Draco's presence, even if they were still grappling with their complicated relationship.
As they continued their walk, the silence was comfortable, and the air between them seemed to shift, if only slightly. For the first time in a while, Harry found himself feeling a bit less alone, and Draco found himself grappling with a sense of empathy he hadn't fully acknowledged before.
The night stretched on, but for now, the quiet companionship offered a small respite from the nightmares that had plagued Harry's nights.
As they walked down a particularly dark and secluded corridor, Harry suddenly stumbled. Draco noticed the change in Harry's gait immediately, his brow furrowing with concern. Before Draco could react, Harry's legs gave out, and he collapsed, his body going limp.
Without hesitation, Draco rushed forward and caught Harry just before he hit the floor. He managed to support Harry's weight, carefully lowering him to the ground. The weight of Harry's unconscious form was a jarring contrast to the lightness of their earlier conversation. Draco's heart raced, and his mind scrambled to process the situation.
"Well, shit," Draco muttered under his breath, his voice filled with a mixture of panic and disbelief. He gently adjusted Harry's position, ensuring he was lying comfortably on the cold stone floor.
Draco took a deep breath, trying to steady himself. He quickly assessed Harry's condition; he was breathing steadily, but the exhaustion was clearly taking its toll. Draco pulled out his wand and cast a gentle charm to check Harry's vital signs, reassured that he was simply overcome by fatigue.
Draco's mind raced as he tried to figure out what to do next. He couldn't just leave Harry here, but he also couldn't carry him to the hospital wing alone. He needed help.
After a moment of hesitation, Draco decided to act. He used his wand to levitate Harry gently, lifting him off the floor with a soft glow of magic. With a grunt of effort, Draco began to move Harry down the corridor. He knew he couldn't risk encountering any of Umbridge's patrols or getting caught in the act. The castle's silent corridors felt unusually oppressive as he manoeuvred Harry through the maze of hallways.
Eventually, Draco reached a quieter and less frequented area of the castle where he hoped he would be less likely to attract attention. He set Harry down carefully against the wall and took a moment to catch his breath. His frustration and worry were palpable, and the weight of the situation pressed heavily on him.
"Potter," Draco said softly, shaking Harry gently. "Wake up. Come on, this isn't a good place to be out cold."
Harry's eyes fluttered open slowly, confusion and exhaustion evident on his face. Draco's worried expression was the first thing he saw as he stirred.
"Draco?" Harry murmured, his voice hoarse.
"Yeah, it's me," Draco replied, trying to sound as reassuring as possible. "You passed out. I'm taking you to the hospital wing."
Harry nodded weakly, attempting to push himself up, but Draco placed a steadying hand on his shoulder.
"Just relax," Draco said. "I've got you. Let's get you some help."
With that, Draco used his wand to levitate Harry once again, this time guiding him more carefully through the castle. The earlier tension between them seemed to dissipate in the face of this urgent situation. Draco's focus was solely on getting Harry to safety, and despite the underlying complexity of their relationship, the immediate need to help Harry took precedence.
The walk to the hospital wing was silent, marked only by the faint sounds of their footsteps echoing through the empty corridors. Draco's concern for Harry was genuine, and as they approached Madam Pomfrey's office, he hoped that whatever tension had existed between them would be addressed once Harry was back on his feet.
As Draco approached the hospital wing, his concern for Harry was palpable. The weight of the situation pressed heavily on him, and he hoped fervently that Madam Pomfrey would be able to quickly tend to Harry's needs. The door to the hospital wing creaked open, and Draco carefully maneuvered Harry inside, setting him down gently on one of the beds.
Madam Pomfrey was already awake, having heard the commotion from her office. She hurried over with a look of professional concern on her face. "What happened here?" she asked, quickly assessing Harry's condition.
"Potter passed out from exhaustion," Draco explained, trying to keep his voice steady. "I found him wandering the halls."
Madam Pomfrey nodded and immediately began to check Harry's vital signs. She worked efficiently, her expertise calming Draco's fraught nerves. "He's severely fatigued," she said, her tone indicating both worry and determination. "I'll need to keep him under observation and administer some restorative draughts to help him recover."
Draco nodded, feeling a small measure of relief as Madam Pomfrey took charge. He lingered for a moment, watching as she prepared various potions and spells to stabilize Harry. The room was quiet except for the soft rustling of medical supplies and the occasional murmured instruction from Madam Pomfrey.
Once she had Harry settled and under her care, Madam Pomfrey turned to Draco. "You should get some rest yourself," she said kindly but firmly. "You've done enough for one night."
Draco hesitated, glancing back at Harry. "I just—" he began, but Madam Pomfrey cut him off with a reassuring smile.
"He'll be fine," she said. "You've done well. Go get some sleep."
Reluctantly, Draco left the hospital wing, feeling a mixture of worry and relief. As he walked back to the Slytherin common room, he couldn't shake the hope that Harry would wake up and think it had all been a strange, dream-like experience—a hallucination born from exhaustion.
Later that night, Draco lay in his bed, staring up at the dark ceiling. He replayed the events of the evening over and over in his mind, the image of Harry's weary face etched deeply in his thoughts. Draco had hoped that Harry's memory of him helping might fade, replaced by the comforting thought that it had been nothing more than a fleeting, surreal episode.
But deep down, Draco knew that their relationship was far more complicated than simply fading into a dream. The actions he had taken, the genuine concern he had shown, would likely have a lasting impact on both of them. As he finally closed his eyes, he hoped that whatever came next would be navigated with more clarity and understanding than the turbulent emotions he was feeling now.
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Harry woke up in the hospital wing, feeling more refreshed than he had in days. The soft hum of Madam Pomfrey's magic and the gentle rustling of medical supplies provided a soothing backdrop to his awakening. As he opened his eyes, he blinked at the unfamiliar surroundings, momentarily disoriented.
Madam Pomfrey was standing by his bedside, her expression a mix of concern and relief. "Good morning, Mr. Potter," she said kindly. "How are you feeling?"
Harry rubbed his eyes and looked around the room, trying to piece together the events leading to his current situation. "I— I'm okay, I think. How did I end up here?"
Madam Pomfrey offered him a reassuring smile. "You were found unconscious in the corridor last night. Fortunately, a friend of yours found you and brought you here. You were quite exhausted, and you needed some rest."
"A friend?" Harry repeated, his mind racing to recall who it might have been. He couldn't remember much beyond the overwhelming fatigue that had clouded his thoughts. "Do you know who it was?"
Madam Pomfrey shook her head. "I'm afraid I didn't get a chance to speak with them. They left after bringing you here. But I'm sure it was someone who cared about you, given how quickly they acted."
Harry felt a pang of guilt and curiosity. He was grateful for the help, but the lack of memory about the specifics of his situation bothered him. He wished he could remember more clearly, but his exhausted mind had been shrouded in darkness.
"You'll be fine with a bit more rest," Madam Pomfrey continued, her tone reassuring. "Your friend did the right thing. They likely recognized how badly you needed help. Just make sure you take it easy for the rest of the day."
Harry nodded, feeling a mix of gratitude and frustration. The fact that he couldn't remember the details made the situation all the more unsettling. He was left wondering about the identity of his mysterious rescuer and why he had been found in such a state.
As the day went on, Harry was visited by a few friends who came by to check on him. Ron and Hermione, in particular, expressed their concern and offered their support, but even their comforting presence didn't fully ease his unease about the missing pieces of the night before.
Harry tried to push aside his lingering questions and focus on his recovery. He knew that he would likely have to confront the realities of his situation sooner or later, and that the mystery of his rescuer would eventually be resolved. For now, he decided to accept the comfort of the hospital wing and the knowledge that someone had cared enough to ensure he received the help he needed.