Over The Edge

Draco Malfoy was not easy to anger. One would think otherwise, considering his habit of sneering and his general agitation. Yes, he did have a sharp tongue that was fast as quick silver, but his main motivation for lashing out all these years consisted of fear and maybe a bit too much pride. Not an all consuming rage.

That wasn’t the case now. Now, he was positively furious. Vicious. Completely enraged. He was a caged wolf, baring his teeth and snapping at anyone who came too close.

It was Potter who had evoked this. Of course it was Potter. Only he was capable of pushing Draco to the edge of his patience and then leave him there. Until the only thing that Draco could do was trying to claw his way back to sanity. If he didn’t, he would fall and perish, overruled by his fears.

This time, however, it was different.

He was still standing on the edge of something, not even close to falling. His feet stood steady and he was looking down at the gaping emptiness that awaited him. He was not going to fall, nowhere near tipping over that feared edge.

There was a body. It was dangling from his hand, which he had wrapped around its throat. Draco swayed a little, moved by Potter’s twitching. The git was still squirming, still trying to free himself, like he wasn’t at Draco’s mercy. Draco didn’t know if he felt so merciful, so forgiving, today.

Potter clutchedDraco’s forearm in fear, as Draco tightened his hold. The darkness under them was cold and hollow.

Draco considered dropping Potter, which would only require relaxing his hand and letting go.

“Please,” Potter rasped. “Please Draco, don’t. I’m just trying to help.”

That made him look at Potter with full attendance. Ripped clothes, tired eyes surround by deep purple bruising and a fearful look on his face. Potter looked like he went through hell and back.

“Please don’t do this again.” Potter whispered.

Again? Draco hesitated. Potter gripped Draco’s forearm tightly, until his knuckled were bone-white and Draco could feel Potter’s blunt, probably broken, nails on his arm.

“Draco, put me down.” The fear in his eyes was real.

Draco raised an eyebrow. Potter, being scared. It was a sight for sore eyes.

Draco decided that he didn’t like it.

“What do you mean, again?” he demanded to know. He felt less furious than before, the fight leaked out of him.

“Draco?” Potter’s forest green eyes went wide with surprise, halting Draco effectively from any further actions. He was frozen on the spot.

“Are you-Do you- Can you hear me?”

Hear him?

Draco rocked back on his heels, almost slipping on the gravel underneath his feet and leaned away from the dark abyss beneath. Potter was feather light in his grip, like he barely existed. A sudden nausea flooded Draco’s senses and he dropped Potter in a heap far away from the dangerous edge they’d been balancing on.

He too dropped down to the ground, leaving a big space between them. He wrapped his arms around himself, in a desperate attempt to calm down, and squeezed even more wrinkles in his already trashed blouse. It had blood on it, he noticed absent-mindedly. His gaze shifted to Potter, who had scrambled up into a position that somewhat resembled a human. He was still hunched over, with his face all scrunched up like he was in agony. The painful groans established that.

Draco coughed once, to gather Potter’s attention.

“What are you doing here Potter? This-you are not supposed to be able to be here. This is mine, and way too dangerous for you. I nearly killed you!”

Potter looked away, in shame, Draco presumed.

“Not nearly.” Potter mumbled. It really was infuriating, the way Potter mumbled. It reminded Draco of his father, who took every chance to correct a mumbled word with a strong scalding. Draco did not mumble.

From beyond the mist of sudden rage, Draco took Potters words into account. Not nearly. It would mean that Potter had been killed. But how could that be, he looked very much alive to Draco. Draco got up to his knees in a quick move and Potter flinched away with a whimper.

He hadn’t nearly killed Potter. He had killed Potter. Draco could feel it in his entire being. And he hadn’t just killed Potter once. No, he had bashed Potter’s skull in. He had drowned the man. Slit his throat, choked him, used the killing curse on him. Oh, he even had thrown him over that edge before, into that dark pit of despair, to die slowly, in agony to his inevitable death. How cruel. How inhuman.

Draco went pale, the nausea was back.

Potter had died so many times and Draco hadn’t known. Why hadn’t he known?

“Potter?” His voice shook with revelation. “Potter, what is going on?” He hadn’t even been this scared when the Dark Lord had decided it was time the youngest Death Eater would finally get marked.

Potter only groaned.

“Potter!” Draco yelled, shrieked in fear. It was like he had woken up from the worst nightmare he’d ever had.

“Yeah, okay,” Potter croaked. “I’m ready to go again. Where will you take us next?”

He stood up slowly and brushed down his clothes.

Draco was still on his knees, feeling more frantic with the minute. “Next? I don’t- I don’t understand.”

Finally, finally Potter looked at him.

“Oh.”

Draco wrung his hands, waiting.

“You truly are here. It wasn’t just a peek of-” Potter looked confused. He took a step closer to Draco, his feet crunching on the gravel beneath it. Draco didn’t move a muscle.

When Potter was close enough to touch, he dropped down on his knees too, facing Draco.

“Hello.” Mesmerized, that was how Potter looked. Like Draco was the most fascinating thing he’d ever had seen.

“Could you please, please tell me what is going on?” Draco whispered. At this point he was not above begging.

Potter’s gaze was so calming, so warm. The contrast with their surrounding was too much and Draco just wished they would be sitting on some grass instead of these sharp pebbles. He could almost feel the blades of the lush green grass between his fingers.

Potter suddenly gasped. “Oh thank you, that’s much better!”

The grass was real. The warm wind blowing through his hair was real. Harry Potter, sitting in front of him, was real. The gravel, the edge with its dark emptiness, all had disappeared.

But was it really real?

The grass felt like rubber between his fingers, the wind felt like a million butterflies touching his skin and Potter..Potter looked like a ghost. An intruder inside a place that was sorely meant for Draco and only Draco.

“Where are we, Potter?”

His fingers torn out the tufts of grass and he let them be blown away with the wind. Butterflies and rubber, what an odd combination.

“We are inside your own mind, Draco.”

“In my mind? What? How?”

Potter let out a sigh. “Salazar, it is really you. I’ve been trying for so, so long to reach you.” He collapsed back onto the ground with a small smile lingering on his face.

“P-Potter, not helping.” The terror threatened to take over.

“I’m sorry. Just makes me happy, that’s all.”

Potter was still slumped down in the grass, but he had his full focus on Draco.

“We are in your mind and I’ve been trying to talk to you. Until now, that only resulted in you trying to kill me. And more often than not, succeeding.” Potter rubbed his throat absent-mindedly. “You are stuck here, we can’t wake you up from the outside, so we had to reach for more extreme measures.”

Draco was so confused, nothing Potter said or did make sense.

“What do you mean, stuck?”

Potter hummed, obviously thinking very hard how to tell Draco about all of this.

With a flash of rage, Draco cursed at the Gryffindor. “Scarface, just fucking tell me!”

That shook Potter. “It’s been too long since I’ve heard that.” His grin was too wide to be an honest one and slipped away when he talked on.Draco vowed to never call him that again. “You’ve been cursed to stay here to be save. Your mother thought it best at the time and asked some faraway wizard to keep you locked up inside your own mind.To protect you, just until the world was save enough, then you’d wake up. Sadly, your mind decided that the world would never be save enough. No wonder, with all the trauma you must have endured at times.”

All the trauma? Draco scoffed, Potter didn’t know that, he didn’t know anything! He was a bit embarrassed, his own mother didn’t think him capable of holding his own, even if he indeed was not holding his own at all. Not during the war, certainly not after, he imagined. He asked himself right there and then if he blamed his mother, but found that he didn’t. At a certain level, he understood and might even have done the same if he’d had a kid. The war and all that came before had broken him, at that point maybe even beyond repair. Protection had been what he needed and his mother had always tried to give him what he needed most.

“Your mother hired me to help. Well, hired would imply I’d been paid. I’ve not been paid. She wanted to use the life-dept as collateral, but eh. Just wanted to help, you know?”

Draco didn’t know.

It must have shown on his face, as Potter started to explain.

“I’m a qualified Mind-healer, with a speciality in sleep and dreams. It’s sort of a passion of mine to try and understand the subconscious mind and help it nurse back to health. It’s what I do best and it is a more peaceful way to keep helping wizard-kind.”

“And now you’re burdened with me. You must hate me even more, rightfully so. The saviour Potter, yet again cleaning up my messes.” Draco said, self-deprecating.

All that Potter had gotten in return was getting hurt, abused and killed. Draco had been nothing but ungrateful to Potter.

“Draco. Draco, no. this is my job. I love doing what I do and your case is hardly the worst I’ve encountered these years.”

What?

“Years?” Draco asked perplex. “How-How long has it been?”

Potter averted his gaze and Draco couldn’t hold off the fresh wave of fear. How long had he been trapped inside his mind? What had happened in all that time?

“What do you remember?” Potter said.

“I-the battlefield. You lot have won, the Dark Lord is dead. I’m looking for mother and then it’s this. And then you show up. And now I’ve apparently killed you, I don’t even know how many times!”

He was hyperventilating, he knew. His body was frozen in terror and his mind was stuck in a loop of horrified confusion.

“Okay Draco, I know it’s frightening and a lot to take in, but you need to breath.” Potter looked truly worried and his eyes didn’t leave Draco’s face. Draco felt his vision getting hazy, like he was losing control over himself again.

“In through your nose, out through your mouth. That’s it, you can follow my breathing. See?”

Potter placed Draco’s hand carefully over the left side of his chest, over his heart. Draco could feel it beating slowly.

“Good, you’re doing very well Draco.”

The black spots left his vision and Draco could unclench his hand, the one that wasn’t resting lightly against Potters shirt, on his own accord. When he caught his breath, Draco asked Potter, “How old am I?”

It took a bit of silence, like Potter didn’t know if he should answer truthfully, but then he answered.

“You are twenty-nine right now. I think. Time moves a little different in here.”

“It’s been eleven years? Oh Merlin.”

Draco could feel himself turning pale white. He’d been in here, doing who knows what, for eleven years?

It did, however, explain why Potter looked the way he did. As Draco had always suspected, Potter

aged like fine wine.

“Your mother had the hope that you would wake up someday. When, after all these years you didn’t, she found me. It’s my job to help you wake yourself up.”

Potter was going to help him wake up from this endless nightmare, in which the most despicable parts of him took over to protect him from harm. Potter had done this before, was even that good at it that it was his job. Draco had been asleep for eleven freaking years. It was all very mindblowing.

He didn’t know how and if they were going to succeed, but at least now he knew that he was asleep, sort of. It was loads better than the constant circle of confusion, anger, violence and fear.

“You’re not alone in this. We’ll do it together.”

Draco could cry right now. He wasn’t planning to though. He looked at the sky, bluer than he imagined it being, and blinked away the tears. Once save from the threat of crying, he looked at Potter.

“Might help if I stopped killing you, right?” Draco said with a watery smile and a shaking voice.

That made Potter grimace and huff out a brittle laugh. “Yeah, yeah. That would be most convenient.”

“How should we do this? You’re going to help me wake myself up, how do you do such a thing?”

Potter furrowed his brows. “It is a little different for everyone, but it’s all a matter of your connection with the real world, the one in which your body is stuck being asleep for infinitive time. We need to rebuild that connection so that you can feel here what you feel there.”

Oh. That sounded quite simple, too easy almost.

Draco reprimanded himself, he was in no position to doubt Potter’s expertise and theories. Maybe it only sounded easy because Potter was just incredible good at what he did.

“Okay Potter, tell me what to do.”

“Well, first of all, please call me Harry. If it were to go sideways, I’ll know it is you when you do. Your unconscious mind would only be able to call me Potter after all these years.”

Harry looked at Draco with a pleading look in his eyes. Draco nodded decisively at him. “Yes, alright. Shouldn’t be too difficult.”

The second Harry had asked him, his mind had started calling Harry by his first name. His dream-state seemed to have an intimate connection to his conscious mind and thoughts.

“Thank you.” Harry looked a bit flabbergasted, as if he had expected some kind of discussion on the topic. He shook his unruled curls and went back to the task at hand.

“We should start with some meditation, to sharpen your focus and to empty your mind. Getting back, waking up, takes a lot of strength, from the both of us. We need to be as stable as we can be, to make the transition between here and being awake as smooth as we can.”

Draco understood how it might be important to keep his mind stable in this whole process, right now he was wringing his hands due to being very nervous and he felt the earth shake. It wasn’t much, just a tiny tremble, like someone had dropped something heavy nearby. But he felt it wasn’t save to try and wake up right now.

“Okay, so if you can sit in front of me, that’ll work. Crossed legs, hands on your knees.”

Draco obeyed and sat back on his butt with a sigh. “Lets do this.”

He crossed his legs and laid his shaking hands on his knees, just like Harry had instructed and took a deep breath.

“Good, focus on breathing slow.” Harry sat down the same way as Draco had and immediately looked relaxed, shoulders slumped and face slack. It was admirable to Draco, he was still so nervous, jiggling his leg in attempt to keep his hands still. He did succeed at slowing down his breathing. It made him a bit light-headed and there were small spots swimming in his vision. Was that something that was meant to happen?

“Harry?”

“You’re doing good Draco. Close your eyes, you’re save.”

Draco closed his eyes.

---

He heard a pleading, somewhere in the far distance of his mind. “No, no, no, Draco. Draco! Please stop, I know you’re in there!”

He was on the beach, he could hear the waves and taste the salty tang of the sea in the air. Besides his own footsteps, he heard another pair, running away from him quickly. He sped up his own pace.

“Oh no. You need to stop Draco!” Potter was pleading, begging.

“Potter. Get. Out.”

The footsteps slowed down and there was a soft hiccuping sound.

“You’ve gone? I thought- I never thought I’d say this, but I don’t think I can do this again. Please don’t Draco, wake up!”

Draco’s vision cleared, no longer pitch black or clouded over. There stood a trembling, crying man in front of him, his back to the ocean. The waves brushed around his ankles and pulled on the edges of his trousers.

“Please, Draco. I can’t take this. Not from you.”

Draco took another step towards Potter and Potter took one back, deeper into the sea.

“Get. Out.”

“I can’t.” Potter trembled and took another step back, the water reached his calves now. Potter’s eyes were red-rimmed and he had stopped talking, was only shaking his head now.

Draco grinned viciously and pounced on Potter. His hands found Potter’s shoulders on instinct and he pushed, pushed and pushed until the dark curls had disappeared underneath the grey sea.

In his victory, Draco’s concentration slipped and Potter’s head emerged above the water for a split second, enough for the terrified man to take a breath.

Down under he when again, pushed by Draco’s full weight. Potter’s hands had wrapped themselves around Draco’s wrists and he could feel Potter’s nails drawing blood. Potter was thrashing around in a desperate attempt to free himself and Draco could hear himself crackle in delight.

This was wrong. He wasn’t supposed to laugh, he was to do something else. He tried so hard to think, what? WHAT?

Suddenly he was under water.

Potter-Harry had kicked him in the leg, hard. It buckled under his weight and then it was all dark and muffled. He’d let go of Harry’s shoulders when he went under and he could hear the thumping sound of the seawater when Harry struggled to get up. It was quiet in the sea, he thought. No confusion, no terror. No need to get out.

Get. Out!

What?

“Get. The fuck. Out of the sea!”

Strong hands grabbed his shoulders and pulled him above the surface. They shook him harshly.

“What where you thinking, you stupid idiot!”

Draco only coughed and pinched his eyes shut, not ready to see Harry’s angry and fearful face.

“Ha-rry.”

“Oh thank Merlin!”

Harry dragged him up to the shoreline, groaning whiles doing so. “You’re heavy, weight of the world on your shoulders, right?”

Draco sputtered out some nonsense about the weight of guilt as he coughed out the remaining water from his lungs.

Harry dropped himself down beside Draco, he was completely out of breath.

“Let’s never ever do that again. That was awful. What happened?”

“I don’t-I do-”

Draco grasped his hair tightly with his hands. There was sand everywhere. There was salt everywhere and it was all so wet. He couldn’t bare it.

“I-I need to be somewhere else.”

Harry was still choking on his breath and rubbing his chest. He nodded shortly.

“Hmm, ah, some air would be nice. Don’t you think?”

Air, air, where was there enough air?

High, air was high up. With the stars.

The floor was cool to the touch and a warm wind stroke his face. He heard Harry blow out a breath.

“Perfect,” Harry >whispered.

The stars were bright tonight, Draco noticed. He was dry and all the sand was gone. There was, however, an edge and a gaping darkness. But it didn’t frighten Draco like it did before, this darkness was supposed to be there. He thought about jumping off this toweronce, but that had been a long time ago. Harry was meant to be here too, he always had been.

Draco laid back and felt Harry do the same. They laid so close together that Draco could feel Harry’s body heat against his arm. He didn’t really care if it was proper, this was Harry. They had always disobeyed the rules, this was no exception.

“I was here that night, you know. I saw you and Dumbledore, Snape killing him and all.”

Draco wasn’t surprised, Harry had a habit of sticking his nose where it didn’t belong.

“You know, I used to come up here a lot. It’s so quiet here and no one would come to find me. A save heaven from all the stress and expectations. You said it really is all over, a lot of time has passed. How is it now, in the wizarding world?”

Harry blew out a sigh. “It’s slow now that the danger has passed. We all needed a lot of time to heal and there was so much that was broken that needed repair. I worked, night and day, to bring it all back to how it once was, but that turned out to be impossible. So I gave up. I worked on myself and then found out what I truly enjoy. The minds of wizards, people really, fascinate me to no end. I got good and helped a lot of people. You know Neville’s parents?”

“Yeah.” Draco whispered. He knew them. Harry looked at him and Draco could feel his forgiveness.

“I helped them get out of their minds and back into the world again. Neville has his parents back. Can’t bring people back from the dead, but I could do this.”

Harry was short about it, but Draco could hear how proud he was. And within good right, Draco was astonished that Harry had been able to do that.

“That’s incredible.” He looked at Harry with wonder.

“Not really. It’s just what I do.” Harry looked away bashfully, scanning the sky and stars.

Draco turned his head away as well. It was a clear night and still warm. Must be summer, he mustered. They were quiet, the two of them. Just watching the stars.

Harry coughed softly.

“What happened just now?”

Draco turned his head sideways to meet Harry’s eyes. They glistered with the light of a million stars. Draco felt the edge and darkness behind his back. He had places himself in between Harry and the edge when laying down, mostly without thinking.

“I was nervous. The control that I had felt shaky. And then you told me to close my eyes and I lost it. Slipped right out of my fingers. The only thought in my mind was that you needed to get out of my mind. I’m so sorry.”

Draco was blinking back the tears. It had been so frightening, wanting to hurt Harry and not stop until he was gone.

“No, no. I am sorry. I went way to fast and should have checked in with you. None of this was your fault. I just...find it hard to concentrate on working when it’s you. But you, Salazar, you snapped out of it!”

Draco frowned. That was a load of hippogriff dung.

“You kicked me. In the leg.”

Harry blushed. “Well, that too. But that couldn’t have happened that easy before! Progress!”

Draco would not have been surprised if Harry had jumped up and done a little dance just now. He didn’t, luckily.

“I do not understand how getting almost murdered in the sea can make you happy and hopeful. But sure, progress!” Draco sarcastically said and wiggled his fingers lazily at Harry.

“Hmm. It really is, trust me.” Harry grinned lightly, looking utter trustworthy.

“Yeah, alright. Fine.” He’d trusted Harry far too little over the years.

“Let’s try again, shall we?”

Draco nodded, “Okay.”

“I promise I won’t ask you again to go too fast. We’ll take it as slow as you need to. You should feel ready. Is this dreamscape a good one for you?”

“Yes.” Draco nodded a second time. “This is good, perfect.”

Harry hummed. “It is quiet here, peaceful even. Never thought of it that way. This place only harboured the fear and pain of that one night. I haven’t been there in years.”

Harry got up in a seating position with a groan. “Oof. My back isn’t what it used to be.”

Draco could only stare at him. Never in his life he had found arry Potter attractive, up until this moment. When he was getting up clumsily and moaning about his back, of all times. In the dark Harry’s hair gleamed and the sliver of moon gave just enough light for Draco to be able to count his freckles. Draco didn’t even know Harry had freckles before.

Draco blew out a breath, trying to lose the nerves and the strange appreciation of Harry’s being. They sat before one another, knees almost touching.

“Breath with me,” Harry whispered. He offered up his hands to >Draco, who took them gently.

“I don’t want to close my eyes Harry.”

“That’s okay. Just look at me. Look into my eyes.”

That wasn’t a hard task. Harry had lovely eyes. They held eye contact and took deep breaths together. Draco could feel the little tufts of air that left Harry’s mouth as he breathed out, on his face. It helped him calm down. They were doing this together and at Draco’s pace.

A lone tear slipped out, rolled over his cheek and dropped to the ground. He had been alone for so very long.

“Can you try squeezing my hands Draco?”

Draco squeezed Harry’s hands.

Harry let out a quiet chuckle. “Good, but try to squeeze my hands Draco.”

Draco squeezed, but nothing happened. “I don’t understand?”

“I’ll squeeze first, that might be easier. Then you’ll know what to look for.”

Harry pinched his face in concentration, winching a little. He closed his eyes and Draco felt the fear return within him.

“Po-Harry?”

“Nothing wrong, all good. It’s just difficult for me. I need to go back to my own my mind while staying here, so I can-In real-Your hands-”

And then Draco felt it.

Harry was squeezing his hands tenderly. When Draco looked down, Harry’s hands hadn’t moved a bit.

“How-How did you do that?”

It felt real, like nothing here had felt. No rubber, no butterflies, just Harry’s warm, strong hands, wrapped around his own.

Harry opened his eyes and the feeling stopped.

“No, what-” Draco grasped Harry’s hands tightly, but it didn’t feel like before. Now it felt like it had all this time, like touching water, or feathers.

“You want to feel that again?” A mischievous glint twinkled in Harry’s eyes.

Draco nodded, not able to find the words to how badly he wanted to feel that again.

“You can do it,” Harry whispered encouraging.

“I can?”

“Yes. Concentrate on your hands. No, don’t look at them, look into my eyes.” Draco could drown in those eyes.

“I’m holding your hands in the real world. We’re on your bed, can you feel the soft silk sheets on your skin?”

Still wordless, Draco shook his head. No sheets, no Harry’s hands feeling like before.

“You will. You are propped up against the headboard in your room at the Manor. Everything is save and quiet, and there is this smell in the room.” Harry sniffed the air. “What is that?”

Draco sniffed too, wondering what Harry was up to.

“I think it’s jasmine? My-my mothers perfume.”

“Ah, she was here before, in this room.”

His mother had been here before? He longed for her, just to be held in her arms. He still couldn’t feel the sheets.

Harry squeezed his hands. “You feel that?”

“Yeah,” Draco croaked.

He couldn’t squeeze back. He could not do it.

By accident, he closed his eyes.

---

“Draco?”

The world was pitch black, no stars to see, no forest green eyes.

“Draco?”

There was too much noise and at the same time there was too little to be heard.

“Draco?”

He was still sitting and actively not moving. His body was locked up and his hands were gripping Harry so tightly that he could feel his bones grind against Harry’s.

The world hadn’t changed colour in the passing seconds, but Draco’s perception of it had. It was all black, he couldn’t see, because he had closed his eyes and now couldn’t open them.

“You are not moving. What is going on Draco?”

If he moved he would kill Harry, he just knew it. But he was. Not. Moving.

“Could you open your eyes Draco? There’s something that you should look at.”

Harry sounded excited, a warm and proud note in his voice that made Draco light up from the inside out. There’s was no reason to be proud, was there?

He’d always been too curious for his own good and what was taking a risk once more, so he opened his eyes a tiny bit. From under his eyelashes he peeked at Harry.

“Hi.” Harry rumbled.

“Hi.” Draco whispered back.

He was so afraid of what would happen now. Everything was different, warped somehow. He hadn’t tried to kill Harry and he didn’t understand any more.

Harry’s eyes twinkled, but not because of the stars. He looked Draco straight in the eye and then pointedly looked down at their hands. Draco’s hands were loosely wrapped around Harry’s. Draco blinked in disbelieve. He wasn’t gripping Harry’s hands like a lifeline, but yet he was. It just wasn’t here.

He couldn’t contain a sound of surprise. Harry chuckled. ‘You’re doing it Draco.”

“I am.” Draco was staring at their joint hands in marvel. The shape of Harry’s hands felt so real, but that made him understand- no, accept- that the Draco sitting in front of Harry, without the sheets and the headboard and the smell of jasmine, was not who he was meant to be.

He was not were he was meant to be and he needed to return, to be able to hold Harry’s hands and know, just know, that if Draco squeezed them he would see his hands do the same.

“I need a break.”He let go of Harry and stood up in a swift motion, creating distance between them.

“Okay. Breaks are good.” Harry stayed seated and Draco was grateful. He was restless enough as it was, a Harry walking around only added to the unpredictability of it all.

He was on the edge again, sitting, dangling his feet above the darkness. He wasn’t taunting it, really.

Just letting it know he was here, waiting.

What would happen if he jumped right now? Could he die here? Harry could...

Draco glanced back at Harry, who hadn’t moved and was sitting in the same spot as before. What would happen to Harry if Draco let go and went with it? There was always the option of casually walking on the edge, faking a stumble and call it an accident. It would be like it was meant to be all that time, wasn’t it?

He looked back down. The darkness wasn’t truly tempting, he just wanted it to be. Would be easier if it were.

Fuck it. This darkness had nothing on him, and it wasn’t even that dark anyway. He bowed over a bit, looking furiously at the ground. There it was! No endless abyss, darkness beyond sight, falling until oblivion. He could see the ground under him.

All it was, was a long fall from the Astronomy Tower to the unforgiving ground. Just like Dumbledore, when he’d hit it, he would just die and then nothingness.

“Please don’t do that.”

Harry sat down beside him, dangling his feet over the edge the same way Draco was doing. The difference was that Harry gripped Draco’s arm tightly, pulling him back a bit. Harry was scared when Draco wasn’t.

Draco laughed lightly. “I thought I’d be the scared one Harry.”

“You aren’t scared?”

It was a rather cold night, now that Draco thought about it. His breath was making little clouds in the air. He puffed a few out, imitating a dragon.

“No. I’m not. I used to be. But this edge is not real Harry. It wouldn’t matter if we fell. Or jumped.”

“Jumped?” Harry’s voice was shrill, thrilling through the silence of the night.

“Yes.”

Harry clenched his arm so hard he thought it might bruise. “We are not jumping!”

Draco looked at Harry with a knowing gaze. “You don’t need to be afraid. You said it yourself, we are in my room right now and perfectly save. Look at it, it’s the way to get back.”

Harry’s skin was pale in the moonlight and he seemed utterly frightened.

“Just look at it. Please.” Draco whispered.

Harry mustered a nod and peeked carefully over the edge. “It’s different,” he noted. “Less...evil.”

Evil. What a word to use.

Draco supposed Harry was right, it had been evil before. Especially when he held Harry above it by his throat. He wouldn’t think of doing that now.

“I think I’m ready.” Draco stood and placed his feet close to the edge in confidence. He held out a hand for Harry. “Will you come with me? To squeeze my hand and remind me where I am?”

Harry was so scared, Draco could see. It was a big risk, that was for sure, but Draco knew that this was the way. His mind had kept him here because it deemed the outside world to be too dangerous for Draco. This edge, the darkness, represented the danger his mind thought there was and he had been throwing Harry into it without regret. He trusted Harry, like he never had before, and if Harry said that Draco had to wake up because the world out there was save, he was going to do it. But he couldn’t do it without Harry.

Harry took his hand.

“Draco, are you sure this will work?”

“No. But it feels like the right thing to do and I don’t think I have done that enough.”

“Oh. Okay.”

There they stood, two shivering silhouettes filled with uncertainty, on the edge of change. It was raining now and the water streamed down their faces, the taste too salty to be only raindrops. Draco didn’t want to be scared. Harry didn’t want to be brave.

“I am ready,” Harry said.

“I am scared,” Draco said.

They stepped off the edge.

Everything went silent.

---

Someone was squeezing his hands.

He was sitting against something hard and sturdy. The soft silk sheets caressed his skin. The smell of jasmine hung in the air like unspoken words. And Harry was holding his hands.

He opened his eyes. Immediately he hissed, blinded by the bright lights in his room.

“Nox.”

Only the dim light from behind the curtains lit up the space now, coating the room in a sincere softness. Harry’s skin glowed golden and there were tears pooling in his eyes.

“Hi,” he croaked out.

Draco smiled. ‘Hi,” he whispered back.

It was clear he hadn’t used his voice for a long time, the sound was raspy and he had to cough after. But the second he heard it, he knew he’d woken up. He hadn’t realised, but in his dreams he had never been able to properly hear his own voice. It had always been like he was dimmed, turned down in volume, accompanied by static noise.

Harry offered him a glass of water.

Draco was thirsty. Being thirsty had never occurred while being in his mind, not even from what he remembered of the time before Harry.

The glass was cold in his hand and the water tasted a little of lemon. It felt right.

He tried to bring the glass to his mouth to drink, but his hand trembled so badly he feared he would pour the water all over the sheets. Harry came to his aid quickly by wrapping his warm, strong hand around Draco’s to steady it.

“Thanks,” he whispered when he was done.

“Any time.”

Neither of them were referring to the water and they knew.