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Potter’s invisibility cloak settled into a pile, exposing Draco and his accompanying scowl.
“Nowhere on the briefing report did Robards mention—”
The witch turned to face him, her critical glare cutting his words short.
“I couldn’t request two beds if we wanted to maintain your cover.”
His scowl deepened. He hated when she was right. Now he was stuck in this hotel room with Granger, all because her department was partnering with the Aurors to catch a clan of Occamy smugglers rumored to be attending the Magical Creatures conference she’d be presenting at tomorrow. If Draco wanted to succeed, no one could suspect Granger wasn’t alone.
Hence the single bed.
“So cease your glowering and get ready for bed,” she bluntly stated. “We have an early morning.”
Without allowing time for protest, Granger proceeded into the bathroom, presumably to do the same thing she had just suggested — no, told — Draco to do. She was the same bossy witch as ever.
A huff shot through the air before Draco submitted and transfigured his uniform into pajamas. It was going to be a miserable night.
***
The debate had waged for several minutes — Granger contending that she needed the mattress due to her presentation while Draco argued that catching the smugglers was the priority — before they settled on casting a Dividio charm that placed a transparent barrier between the bed’s two halves.
Darkness blanketed the room as he and Granger faced back to back on opposite extremities of the mattress. Draco had apprehensively abandoned his usual strategy of reading before slumber as to not let Granger be privy to his nighttime ritual. Even worse, he had forgotten to pack any Sleeping Draught. He’d have to fall asleep naturally — a task easier said than done.
Draco closed his eyes, turning off his vision to the world, but the same could not be done to his thoughts. Years after the war, the torment of the past failed to be defeated. It didn’t matter how many criminals Draco helped imprison. The anguish for his own crimes perpetuated.
His accustomed nightly battle waged inside his mind until the sudden crisp touch of cold air sent a shiver down his spine. He cracked his eyelids, assessing the fabric that had exposed his leg and the abundance that now gathered over Granger.
He yanked the cover back into place. “Don’t be greedy,” he groused. “And I’d prefer no more reminders that I’m not sleeping alone.”
“Believe me,” she countered. “I’d prefer the same.”
There was another tug but not enough to cause significant movement. Draco dropped the issue. He was having enough trouble sleeping without spurring another argument.
The moon slowly rose higher in the sky. Periods of shallow sleep overcame Draco’s body, but none lasted longer than a half hour. Without a proper night’s rest, morning exhaustion could jeopardize his mission.
Draco summoned his book and illuminated his wand’s tip. It was a purposefully boring read, and a curtain of black started to cover his eyes. Soon enough, slumber started to take hold.
Until there was another abrupt pull on the comforter.
Irritation bubbled in his chest. He had been so close!
Lips flattening, he jerked off what remained of his allotment of covers and sat up to scold Granger, only to find her stirring in her sleep. Yet this wasn’t a normal nighttime stir. The knot in Draco’s stomach knew that to be true. Her face was scrunched, her breathing shallow, her body restless.
The past haunted her sleep as well.
Annoyance fell from consciousness. “Granger,” he attempted through their barrier, yet she didn’t wake.
Her trashing escalated, and with eyes still shut, strangled cries sliced the air. “We found it — we found it — PLEASE!”
Draco’s heart sank as the rest of his body fell numb. He knew those words. He’d never forget those words.
Ragged exhales escaped her lips. “We only met him tonight!”
“Wake up, Granger!” he now shouted.
No change.
Sympathy swelled inside his veins. He was unfortunately familiar with this horror. If only he could—
“Malfoy!”
Draco faltered at her latest nightmarish cry. Surely she didn’t…
“Malfoy!” she wheezed again. “Help me! I know you don’t — Draco!”
With that final call, he vanished the barrier, scrambling to her side. His hands trembled as he gripped her shoulders and tried shaking her to consciousness. “I’m here! Wake up!”
It took three more shakes until her eyelids shot open and Draco was met with the troubled brown irises. Confusion glossed over her eyes, as if surprised to no longer be on the Manor’s drawing room floor. That only lasted a moment, however, before Granger removed herself from Draco’s hold.
“Sorry,” she choked. “I was having a—”
“Nightmare?”
“Yes,” she submitted, averting her gaze. “While I appreciate your concern, it’s over now, so you should return to your side. We must be rested for the conference.”
Resettling beneath the covers, Granger was evidently done with the conversation. Not long after, they were both on their respective sides, the barrier recast.
Sleep once again eluded Draco. Only this time, a different thought plagued him.
“I would have helped you that day,” he croaked, “if… if there was something I thought I could have done.”
Voicing one of the regrets that had taunted his slumbers mildly appeased him, but his mind fixated on the witch. Even from across the mattress, he could feel her tense.
“It’s in the past now.”
Draco turned to her. “Doesn’t mean I can’t try to make it better.”
With cautious optimism, he removed the barrier one last time.
There wasn't a single sound of dissent when he moved to her side, curled around her frame, and draped his arm over her waist. She was rigid at first, both of them needing several seconds to process the strange proximity, but eventually, they relaxed into the comforting embrace. Head beside hers, Draco listened to her breathing until she was restfully asleep.
It was the best sleep he’d had since the end of the war.