A Nightmare
Harry spent the rest of the afternoon pacing his cabin, fists clenched and an ever-present frown on his face. How could Ron say that shit about Draco? He barely even knew him, and he hadn't talked to him since the Battle. And then to insinuate that Draco was somehow responsible for or involved in Fred's death? Didn't Ron know Harry already felt horrible enough about that?
The entire situation was utterly ridiculous and frustrating. Maybe Harry should've let Ron stay to talk it over, but he had been one more mean comment away from chucking another glass across the room. Ron and Hermione just didn't understand, and it made him want to scream and punch something.
But the calm and quiet of the cabin calmed Harry down eventually. It was hard to stay mad at people that weren't there, and the anger slowly ebbed away.
It was replaced by doubt.
Was Ron right? Maybe him and Draco could never work. After all, they'd grown up hating each other. Draco had always teased Harry and annoyed him, and Harry had gone out of his way to blame every bad thing happening at Hogwarts on the blond. Plus, all of their friends would end up hating them and being disgusted by them. A sharp pang of hurt went through Harry's chest as he imagined Mrs. Weasley's disappointed face if he ever brought Draco to the burrow.
But did that all matter? The way Draco had made him feel the past couple days seemed worth the sacrifices he might have to make. He felt understood, which was monumental. The only other person who had really understood him was Sirius, and he was gone, like so many others. Remus had been there for him too, but he was also gone. Now he had found someone else who made the raging tide of sorrow and rage inside of him fall away.
Harry decided to sleep on it. He was going to meet up with Draco anyways, the next day, so it wasn't worth it to agonize over his feelings now. They could just see how that went and then decide if they wanted to be together. The sun set, and before Harry knew it he was fast asleep.
The nightmares came quickly.
Harry was walking along the side of the lake at Hogwarts, hands tucked in his pockets as he stared at the gray sky. Something splashed in the water and he froze, knowing that it wouldn't be in his best interests to look at it. Still, his body didn't obey his mind and he walked to the edge of the water, peering in.
Horror washed over Harry as he saw the lake was filled with bodies, glassy eyes all looking at him. He stared down at Tonks, Remus, Fred, and Colin, trying not to throw up. A hand clawed its way out of the murky water and grabbed Harry's ankle, trying to pull him in. He shouted in fear and turned, trying to run away.
Draco stood there, watching him, and relief filled Harry, until he realized the blond was laughing. He screamed as he was pulled into the lake, begging Draco to help him, and then he was in the lake and hands were pulling him down and water was filling his lungs and--
He woke up screaming, cold sweat coating his skin.
Harry struggled for breath, and once he'd calmed down he couldn't help but sob brokenly. He hadn't had a nightmare that intense since he'd left Hogwarts.
Almost without knowing what he was doing Harry got up and got dressed, throwing on his most comfortable sweater and jeans. It was pitch black outside, still in the midst of night, but he picked up his wand and whispered a quiet "lumos", then wandered outside and into the dark.
He'd thought he would just wander aimlessly, but apparently his feet had a mind of their own, because they led him through the woods, through the river, and to Draco's doorstep. He couldn't help but knock, feeling utterly foolish but still completely shaken. The only comfort he could take after the especially bad nightmares was the company of another human being, the assurance that he wasn't alone.
Surprisingly, the door swung open almost immediately. Draco didn't look like he'd slept at all, and raised an eyebrow as he looked Harry up and down. The wizard knew he must look a mess, with his mussed up hair and eye bags and pants went from wading through the river, but just wearily said "hi".
"Hello," Draco said, and then stepped aside and let Harry in the door. "You couldn't sleep either, I suppose?"
A feeling of warmth spread through Harry's chest and he nodded, glad that the other wizard understood what was happening with him. "Sometimes it's worse to be alone," he shrugged. "Do you have any more of that wine from last night?"
"There are better things to do in the middle of the night than getting drunk, Potter," Draco said, but his voice was mildly teasing instead of scathing. "How about some tea instead?"
Harry internally sighed but nodded, knowing that perhaps wine wasn't what he needed right now. Draco led him to the living room and carefully sat him down on the couch, handing him a wool blanket. "Chamomile or lemon?"
"Lemon, Chamomile is only for those with no taste." It was a weak joke, and Harry knew it, but Draco laughed anyways. It made him feel that much better, and he smiled, leaning back into the couch. This situation was less than normal, but Draco was treating it as if it was entirely reasonable for Harry to show up in the middle of the night because he'd had a bad dream.
The tea was ready fairly quickly and the pair drank in companionable silence, sitting next to each other on the couch. Harry used the time to collect himself, trying to calm down, but still couldn't quite catch his breath. The emotions from the dream were still running him ragged, the guilt, the fear.
The wizard flinched in surprise when he felt an arm around his shoulders, then looked up at Draco, who rolled his eyes. "Come on now, just put down your tea and come here. My mother always used to hold me when I had a bad night. She said that the only thing that can cure an overactive imagination is the warmth of another person." Harry honestly couldn't picture Narcissa saying that to anyone, but Draco's warmth really was appealing.
After a moment he leaned in, letting Draco pull him to his chest and wrap his arms around him. It felt safe, and comforting, and Harry's eyes fell closed rather quickly, drowsiness washing over him.
As he lay there, in Draco's arms, the doubt and anger he'd been feeling earlier seemed to dissipate. Ron just didn't understand, but Harry could talk to him about it. It was more of an issue of him not knowing Draco than Draco being a bad person.
And the way Draco had handled his midnight crisis completely threw away the doubt he'd been feeling. He wasn't going to let himself run away from a person that made him feel this good just because others might not approve.
"Thank you," Harry mumbled after a few moments, trying not to start crying again. He wasn't going to be weaker than he'd already shown himself to be. "I--"
"You're welcome," Draco interrupted softly, and then he did something utterly surprising: he bent down and lightly kissed the top of Harry's head.
A breath he didn't even know he'd been holding left Harry in a long sign and he cuddled into Draco, letting the tiredness he'd been feeling pull him into sleep. Here he could relax, on the couch, with Draco. Here everything was fine.
There were no more nightmares that night.