Chapter Text
The beginning of Harry’s fifth year in Hogwarts has been the furthest away from perfect. Between Voldemort’s return, his recurring dreams, Umbridge’s suffocating presence and the ministry’s idiocy, he hasn’t felt like himself since the start of term. Still, one thought clung to his mind above all others, that of Draco Malfoy. The bloody git was determined to make his life a living hell. From snarky side remarks, to tripping hexes, to hollow threats. In all fairness, Harry has always enjoyed his little banters with Draco, though he would NEVER admit it. The times when he was shouting at the top of his lungs at the slytherin, were the moments when he felt most alive. Lately however, even the tiniest squabble required a herculean effort from him, too pricey for his fading energy. Haunted with nightmares, he was barely sleeping. And even when he got some sleep, he would always wake up with a startle, drenched in sweat.
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Harry and Cedric were racing on brooms in the middle of the great hall, trying to catch McGonagall in her animagus form. All the students were laughing and cheering. Hagrid was tap dancing. Hermione and Ron were waltzing. While Umbridge and Filtch were chasing a terrified Draco Malfoy around for hugs and smooches. Suddenly, a dark hooded figure appeared in the middle of the hall and green beams filled the air. Cedric toppled from his broom, his body cold, his eyes uncaring. Harry dropped to his knees next to him, all his surroundings forgotten. A high pitched scream echoed through the great hall. Turning around, he was faced with the corpses of hundreds of students. Even the teachers were dead. Professor McGonagall’s cat form hung from a chair. Professor Dumbledore still sat at the head of the table, glasses askew, wand shattered. Ron and Hermione’s dead forms were still clinging to each other. A few feet above the ground, Draco was hovering and weakly twitching. Body peppered with gushing wounds, the dark figure was slowly draining him. The scarlet colour of his blood a startling contrast against his marble white skin. Draco turned, gaze fixed on Harry, shivered one last time, and laid still.
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Harry woke up with a shout, muscles wrecked with tremors, hair sticking to his forehead and an urging need to puke in the back of his throat. It was as though the walls were closing in on him. He had to get out of the Gryffindor tower.
Harry sprinted down the stairs and through the deserted corridors. Running at full speed only seemed to engrave the disturbing images through his eyelids. He barged into the bathroom in a flash. He came to a halt in front of one of the pots in time to empty the contents of his stomach. His legs finally gave out. He crumbled to the floor in a miserable heap.
“My, My, My... What is it we have here?” resonated a high pitched voice behind him. “As I live and breathe. Is this Saint Potter outside of his common room in the middle of the night? Wouldn’t our High Inquisitor be glad to hear of this? Or perhaps should I inform professor Snape?”
Awesome! Draco freaking Malfoy had to be on prefect duties tonight. Resigned to face whatever punishment inflicted on him, but also immensely relieved at hearing the git’s voice full of life, he turned around with a sigh.
“Holly hell Potter, you look positively dreadful”. Draco’s tone was biting as ever, but his grey eyes showed a hint of concern. “What happened to you?”
“It’s none of your business Malfoy”, his weak voice cancelled the venom in his words. “Why do you care anyway?”
Draco rolled his eyes. “I would have to get the nurse if you are sick, Potter. Part of my duty as a prefect.” He stepped closer to Harry, crouched down next to him and placed a cooling hand on his forehead. “God, you are burning up! That’s it. We are going to madam Pomfrey.”
Draco turned around to exit the loo, but Harry clung to his wrist. “Please don’t”, he weakly said.
“What the hell Potter? Do you have a death wish or something? Well I don’t want you dying on me. So it’s either the Hospital Wing, or I’m leaving”. But he didn’t shrug Harry’s hand, or make a move to leave.
“I’m not dying you twat. It was just a stupid nightmare”. Draco looked stunned for a minute; a conflicted look crossed his face. “I see. Do you want to ... talk about it?”
“Not with you, you asshole.”
“Fine. Spare me your man pain.” He looked slightly taken aback though. “Now if you could just let go of my bloody wrist, I will walk you back to your dorm.”
Harry quickly let go and struggled to stand on his own. “I could perfectly walk on my own.”
“Oh totally! And you could face Umbridge who is lurking around the corridors. I bet she would be perfectly understanding of your little situation.”
Harry begrudgingly fell to step next to Malfoy. The silence that settled was oddly comforting. His panic was starting to subside and he was regaining control over his dangly limbs.
Once at the portrait hole, the pair came to a halt. The awkwardness was starting to set in. Accompanied by a sort of tension that Harry just couldn’t place.
Harry inhaled deeply, preparing himself for the humiliation of having to thank Malfoy.
“So, Malfoy...”
“Look, Potter...”
“You go first Malfoy...”
“Of course I will, scarhead.” the blonde boy suddenly looked uneasy. “I know we are mortal enemies or whatever, but you can’t keep pulling stunts like these. Umbridge is already out for you like a blood hound. And though I really hate your stupid face, I wouldn’t exactly want you to be expelled.”
Shrugging off his look of stupor, Harry teased: “Hey, careful Malfoy. Your soft side is showing.”
Draco’s expression turned feral in the blink of a second: “This is no joking matter Potter. We both know what is waiting for you outside. At least inside these walls, you have a semblance of a shot at survival. Your odds are already slim enough, so don’t temper with them any further.”
Harry, who has never seen Malfoy serious before, was transfixed by the intensity of his stare and the grim note of his voice. This earnest display of emotion had the effect of a punch to the gut; it completely knocked the air out of him.
Harry struggled to answer: “Don’t you think I know that? I just couldn’t help myself. I had to get out of there. It felt like... Well you wouldn’t understand anyway.”
Malfoy rolled his eyes. “Believe me Potter, I do understand.” Oddly enough, it seemed like he truly did.
“Still, you have to find another way. You can’t keep sneaking around in the middle of the night; especially since you have the stealth and grace of a troll.” And just like that, the intensity of the moment was broken by the snarky comment. Draco had a lopsided smirk that Harry couldn’t help mirroring.
“Oh, sod off, Malfoy. I’m much stealthier that you. I just hide it better.”
“Sure you do. Go to bed, Potter. You are in dire need of some beauty sleep.”
“No need to, Malfoy. We both know that you got the dashing looks while I got the brains.”
“I’m pretty sure I got both while you got none Potter.” He seemed to be blushing though.
“Goodnight you prick.”
“Goodnight asshole.”
Before going through the portrait, Harry looked back to Malfoy’s retreating form.
“Hey Malfoy!”
“What?” he turned, his blonde head slightly turned to the side.
“You can be a bloody git sometimes, but you weren’t half bad tonight.” Malfoy flipped him off and went on his merry way.
Their playful back and forth has managed to lift Harry’s spirit up. His panic has fully subdued. And he was able to have a peaceful, nightmare-free sleep for the rest of the night. It was all thanks to Malfoy. He wouldn’t tell him that, though.