Harry couldn’t sleep, that much was clear. The nightmares were too much, and eventually, they took a toll on one's ability to find peace in drifting away. It was waking up screaming, or waking up in sweat, or the fear of just not waking up at all. The latter was what Harry feared most.
And that is how he found himself, a soft, maroon knit blanket wrapped around his shoulders, bare feet sludging against the ground, heading for the 8th-year common room.
It was warm there and was recently built, so it held no memories of the past. A distraction he needed.
*
Draco couldn't sleep, but he knew that. He hadn’t slept since the Dark Lord had taken over his household. The cold always crept into his bones, making him shiver, his spine coiling so deep, that sleep was impossible.
So instead, Draco sat in bed silently. Sometimes he read, but sometimes he just stared out and tried not to think too hard.
But that got boring.
So that was how he found himself, a silky robe draped upon his shoulders, feet in soft, fluffy slippers, heading for the 8th-year common room.
He could watch the flames dance in the fireplace, or maybe play a game of chess with himself, he didn’t know. But it was better than tiredly looking at the bare ceiling.
*
When Harry reached the common room, a sort of weight lifted off of his body. He gazed upon the warm fireplace, lit just enough to illuminate the room in a soft light, and the couch that sat in front of it looked too comfortable not to sit on.
So he crept towards it, and sat towards the edge, wrapping his blanket into a sort of cocoon around himself.
Content with where he was, he simply let his mind wander from topic to topic, forcing himself not to think about anything bad. Like the war. Or death. His death.
The cold embrace that hit him when Voldemort had graced him with death. The fear of dying again. Wishing that maybe he could.
Stop, he thought to himself, cringing and pulling the edge of the blankets closer.
Stop thinking about it, Harry reprimanded himself.
But a noise from the side of the room distracted his inner turmoil, and Harry turned to meet the gaze of Draco Malfoy.
Malfoy froze and stared back into Harry’s eyes, and neither moved.
Eventually, Harry put his legs up onto the couch, grunting a quick ‘Malfoy.’
He didn’t expect a response.
“Potter. You’re up late.”
Harry opened his eyes in surprise, watching as Malfoy slowly approached the couch, before sitting down on the other end.
His cushion tensed at the weight of Malfoy next to him.
“I could say the same about you, but that would be too predictable,” Harry said quietly, seeming to decide that it was best to keep it cordial at such a late hour.
Malfoy let out a slight smirk at that, crossing his arms, which made both of their forearms brush together.
Harry let out a shiver.
“Why are you up so late?” Malfoy asked, turning to face Harry.
Best to keep it simple, Harry thought.
“Nightmares.”
“Ah,” Malfoy replied.
“You?” Harry questioned, scooching a bit closer to Malfoy.
“I don’t sleep.”
Malfoy’s response was cold and distant, and almost sad, Harry noted.
“Well,” he started, “Me neither. We can be sleepless together,” Harry tried, nudging Malfoy slightly with his arm.
Malfoy didn’t reply, instead, gave a soft smile, an unguarded one, one that Harry had never seen before. He liked that smile.
Turning his attention back to the fire, Harry leaned back against the back of the couch, once again connecting his and Malfoy's arms next to each other.
The flames were calm, he thought, and they looked peaceful. The orange and yellow danced beautifully with one another.
Lost in the trance of the fire, Harry felt tiredness sweep through himself. How couldn’t he? Not sleeping for days at a time would make you exhausted.
Mind foggy, Harry let his head droop to the side, connecting with something cool, yet firm. That felt nice. His eyes drifted close, and his mind went to another world.
*
Draco thought that it was calm sitting next to Potter, simply gazing at the fire.
It felt nice that they had been able to just have a conversation, not like the awkward head nods in the hallway, or the hushed apology from a few months before.
The quiet of the room was steady, only being broken by the trickle and crack of the fire.
Draco liked that.
Only when something fell upon his shoulder did Draco leave his trance of the room, and he quickly turned his head, only to be met by a messy head of soft black hair.
“Potter-” He started to say, before watching the steady rise and fall of his chest, and Draco peered forward carefully to see Potter’s eyes gently shut, his face left in a soft form of relaxation.
“Potter,” he tried one again, whispering this time. But when the boy sitting next to him gave no response, Draco let out a soft sigh, gazing back to the fire.
The weight on his shoulder felt… good. Like a steady anchor. Perhaps Draco could let himself go for a moment. There was no one else in the room, no one to judge him. And Potter was fast asleep, he wouldn’t notice, right?
So Draco let his head fall on top of Potters, the soft bundle of hair supporting his head like a fuzzy blanket.
Draco liked that.
He didn’t even notice when his own eyes drifted shut, and his mind went to another world.
*
“Potter.”
It was the next night, and both Harry and Malfoy had somehow found their way back to the common room in the middle of the night.
This time, Malfoy was the one already on the couch, and Harry had once again come sludging into the room with the same blanket wrapped tight around himself.
“Malfoy,” Harry nodded, and he briskly walked over to the warm couch, sitting himself next to Malfoy. Their arms touched once again, but Harry didn’t mind.
They didn’t say anything else for a while, simply seeming to bask in one another's presence.
It wasn’t until Malfoy shivered next to Harry did he turn, meeting the blonde's gaze.
“Cold?” He asked softly.
“I’m fine,” Malfoy said, but another shiver ran through his spine, and Harry could feel it through their small connection between them.
Without missing a beat, Harry unfurled the blanket from himself, draping it over his shoulders, then Malfoys.
This brought them even closer, Harry's drawn-up knees mixing with Malfoys, their arms, shoulder to wrist touching now.
After adjusting a bit, Harry asked, “Better?”
Looking relieved, Malfoy shook his head.
“Good,” Harry said with a tired smile.
Together they fell into another silence, both gazing at the once again soft flames.
However, unlike the night before, Malfoy was the one to drift away first, and his body seemed to go limp against Harry’s, causing him to fall onto Harry’s chest.
Harry, a little out of it from actually sleeping the last night, simply looked down at the head of bright hair sitting just beneath his chin, and Harry couldn’t help but let out a small smile.
Carefully, he wrapped the blanket fully around the two of them, creating a sort of seal around them.
It wasn’t much later that Harry drifted off.
*
Harry had a bad day. A really bad day.
Even the warmth of the common room, blanket (as usual) wrapped tightly around himself couldn’t calm the storm in his chest.
He went to the common room early. He couldn’t stay in his dorm. He couldn’t. So he waited.
For Malfoy.
*
When Draco came into the common room, he instantly knew something was wrong.
Potter looked distraught. He was tense, and his face didn’t hold the soft tiredness that usually graced his face in the late hours, it was a look of sadness. Fear.
Draco didn’t like that.
“Potter.” He said, instantly catching his attention.
He sat down next to him as was their routine.
“You okay?”
His tone was soft, careful. He didn’t want to frighten Harry.
Harry?
Potter.
Potter’s eyes darted around for a second before he shook his head.
“No,” his voice trembled. “I’m not okay.”
Draco really didn’t like that.
“Come here,” he said, opening his arms to Potter.
After the last few nights, this was normal, right? Yeah, yeah it was, Draco told himself.
Without hesitation, Draco watched as Potter practically fell into his arms, tucking his head into his collarbone.
He was in his blanket cocoon, which Draco thought was quite cute, and so his arms and legs were drawn close, practically against Draco’s chest.
Carefully, he wrapped his arms around Potter, tightly holding him, and listening for his breaths to slow down.
“Draco.”
Potter's voice came from beneath him, quiet and muffled against Draco's robe.
Potter had never called him that before.
But Draco liked it.
“Harry,” he replied, running a hand up his back to hold the top of Harry’s head.
“Stay like this?” The soft voice asked, and Draco couldn’t help but let out a loving smile.
“Yeah, Harry. I’ll stay right here.”
Harry’s breathing slowed down, and Dracos fell in sync with it.
This time, they fell asleep at the same time, with Harry, tucked tightly in Draco's arms, and Draco, no longer watching the flames, but instead watching the boy beneath him.
This time, Harry could sleep.
This time, Draco could sleep.
Now, Harry had no more nightmares. He wasn’t afraid of what was to come. In fact, he didn’t fear waking up. Because he knew he would wake up in Draco's arms.
Now, Draco wasn’t cold. The shivers didn’t overtake him. The warmth of Harry kept his body in check. He had no thoughts of the Dark Lord. Only Harry.
Fin