Work Text:
Harry had been following him for weeks now. Late at night the castle felt like another world—desolate, darkness curling in the shadows, the hallways stretching on forever. Most others were tucked up in bed, warm, safe; but Harry had forgotten what that felt like, it seemed like a distant memory. The two of them were stuck in a weary dance, following some uncharted path around the castle.
He didn’t understand his obsession, he only knew that it gripped him like a curse. Draco walked around the castle in the middle of the night. Harry watched him, saw the gaunt, haunted look in the other boy’s eyes and wanted to know what went on behind them. Did Draco ever sleep? Did Harry—he wasn’t sure anymore. Mostly he just trailed after him as he walked, up and down the stairs, down empty, dark hallways. Sometimes he’d watch him sit on a window ledge and look out the window into the darkness or as he sat on the floor staring at the wall.
Harry watched as Draco dragged himself through the day, his movements sluggish, eyes ringed with dark shadows. Despite everything he was still showing up to classes, handing in homework and assignments. Though his once-neat handwriting had become scratchy and sloppy, assignments full of cross-outs and uneven sentences.
Harry wondered if he was surviving on potions to keep himself awake? Was he unraveling, or if they both were. He wondered whether Draco was sleeping, if he was at all, Harry was hardly sleeping anymore. Too obsessed to be able to switch his brain off, he napped in free periods and before dinner, catching precious hours before the insomnia and obsession grabbed him again, forcing him to walk through the night.
That night he stood in the dark hallway and observed the other boy. Draco had stopped in front of a window, up on the sixth floor, gazing into the night. He’d been there for at least ten minutes. Just vacantly looking into the darkness. Harry was stuck in place, couldn’t turn away, couldn’t move.
Finally Draco broke their stalemate and turned his gaze to Harry. He didn’t say anything, just stared at him, unmoving. In the past he would have come out with a scathing remark, but this time he just stood there. After a while he went back to looking out the window.
Harry didn’t know what it all meant. Not anymore. After the past few years his life had been ground down into a turmoil that he couldn’t escape from. Maybe Draco’s was the same. Maybe they were all trapped in a nightmare they couldn’t get out of.
“Do you want something?”
Harry’s head whipped up. “What?” he whispered.
“Do you want something?” Draco asked again. “You keep following me.”
“I…. I….”, Harry stuttered. He didn’t know what he wanted. He didn’t understand anything anymore.
“It’s going to be morning soon,” Draco said quietly, facing back to the window again.
“Yeah,” Harry replied.
Eventually Draco nodded and walked away. It seemed as though he was heading back to the dungeons.
Harry stood there and watched him go. Finally he turned and went back to Gryffindor tower and his bed.
The next night he found himself in a different hallway. Draco was in the deserted part of the castle sitting in an inset window alcove, back against the wall and legs bent in front of him. He was staring out the window, studying the darkness again. Harry came up quietly and sat on the opposite end facing towards him.
“It’s quieter at night,” Draco said quietly, voice barely able to be heard above the silence. “No one expects anything from me.”
Harry just sat there, not sure if he was intruding, unable to walk away.
“I wasn’t sure if you had actually shown up last night or if I had dreamed it,” he said quietly.
“You thought you dreamed it?”
“I don’t sleep much,” he replied, “it’s hard to work out what’s real anymore.”
“You could always take a potion, to sleep I mean,” Harry said.
“I used to,” he replied, “but I’m not allowed to have any more. I’ve been told it’s too addictive and I’m at my limit, you know?”
Harry nodded, he’d been told the same thing. He used to take them to sleep, to turn off the noise in his head. But now he only has his obsession and walking. He gave up trying to sleep through the night months ago.
“Do you sleep at all?” Harry asked him.
“I must do. But not much. I think I just nap now and then.”
They sat there watching the darkness through the window, sitting peacefully in the quiet. Harry tilted his head to face the other boy, noticed the dark circles under his eyes, tension in his face, the strain on his otherwise pale features.
“Why do you walk around the castle?” Harry asked him.
Draco shrugged, “Something to do. It stops me from thinking.” He looked at Harry, “Why do you follow me?”
“The same I guess.”
Draco nodded, facing the window again, “It’ll be morning soon.”
“Can I see you again tonight?” Harry asked.
Draco studied him curiously, then assented, “If you like.”
Harry gave a small smile, “Alright then.”
That night Harry found him in a deserted classroom. He was slowly flipping through the pages of a book.
“What’s the book?” Harry asked.
“I don’t know,” Draco replied, “I was just looking at the pictures for something to do. I can’t really read anymore.”
Harry knew, he understood. After a while the insomnia stops your brain from functioning. Words stopped having meaning a while ago.
“Come,” Harry had his hand out, “I know a place we can go.”
Draco looked at him, “A place?”
“It’s more comfortable than this, we can stay there a while.”
He took Draco’s hand and pulled him up to standing. Holding hands so as not to lose him on the way, Harry guided them both up to the seventh floor.
“Just wait here for a sec,” Harry left Draco standing next to a wall and then started walking back and forth in front of the opposite wall. Suddenly a door materialised in front of them.
“This way,” he took Draco’s hand again and opened the door, guiding him inside.
The room was cosy, warm and quiet, a large stone fireplace with blazing fire along one side, and a large comfortable couch in front of it. There was a large thick rug on the floor and a small low table with a lamp on each side of the couch. On the far side of the room was a large window that looked out into the darkness.
“We can wait here for a while,” Harry said looking over at Draco, “we’ll be safe and no one will be able to bother us.”
He guided Draco over to the couch and they both sat down looking over at the blazing fire, mesmerised by the flames.
“It’s nice,” Draco said quietly, “Thank you.”
Harry gave him a small smile and squeezed his hand, “You’re welcome.”
They sat on the couch together, quiet and peaceful. Draco turned to Harry and slowly lifted his hand. Harry turned to face him, curious as to what he was doing. Draco leaned forward slightly, brushing his fingers over Harry’s features as if to trace them, making sure they were real. He cupped Harry’s jaw and brushed his thumb over Harry’s lips.
“I just wanted to make sure,” he whispered.
“Make sure of what,” Harry said.
“That you were real.”
“Come here,” Harry said, pulling him towards him. Draco stretched out on the couch, huddled up against Harry, embraced by him, head snuggled on Harry’s chest. Harry ran his fingers through the soft strands of hair, gently massaging and stroking his head, shoulders and back.
Holding onto Draco and staring into the flames somehow stopped the noise in his head. He felt at peace, he noticed Draco’s breathing getting deeper and slower as he leaned against him. Harry settled back against the couch and eventually closed his eyes.
He woke with a jolt, sunlight peaking over the distant trees into the window. He was warm and comfortable, next to Draco who was still fast asleep leaning against him.
He ran his fingers through the other boy's hair and whispered gently against his head, “Draco?”
Draco's eyelashes slowly started fluttering as he made little movements and sounds, “Mmm?”
“I think it’s almost morning,” Harry still had his arms around him and he gave him a little squeeze.
“Did we sleep?” Draco asked, still waking up. His hair was mussed from sleeping, and his face had that slightly puffy half-awake look to it.
“I think so,” Harry said.
“I never sleep,” Draco said, sitting up and looking blearily at Harry.
“Me neither,” Harry replied.
Draco lifted his hand and gently brushed his fingers against Harry’s face, making sure he was really there, “Can I come back tonight?”
“Yeah,” Harry nodded slowly, “Definitely “
Draco gave him a small smile and swung his legs to get up off the couch, “Tonight then.”
That night Harry waited in the seventh floor hallway for Draco to show up. He had already beckoned for the room and the doorway was there waiting for him to go in.
He didn’t have to wait long until he heard the telltale sound of footsteps. He stood up from where he was slouched against the wall and held out his hand, “Shall we go in?”
Draco gave a small smile and took his hand. They entered the room together feeling shy but hopeful.
The room was the same as the night before and they walked over to the couch, still holding hands. They sat down and stared at the flames blazing in the fireplace.
Draco turned again and faced Harry. He reached up and traced his features with his fingers, smiling to himself. Harry captured his hand and brought it to his mouth, giving him a soft kiss and then held it.
“Is this real?” Draco asked him.
Harry reached out and traced Draco’s face and ran his thumb across the other boy's lips, “I hope so,” he said softly. He looked up at Draco, tracing his features and face with his fingers and eyes. “Can I kiss you?”, he whispered quietly, looking searchingly over his face.
Draco nodded and gave him a small smile, “Yes, Harry. I want you to.”
Harry reached out and ran his fingers through Draco’s hair at the back of his neck, feeling soft skin there. He leaned forward slowly and softly kissed him on the lips. Draco sighed softly and smiled.
Harry moved and settled back into the corner of the couch, and opened his arms, “Come here,” he said, “I want to hold you whilst we sleep.”
Draco turned and stretched out on the couch again, leaning against Harry, warm and safe in his embrace. “Can we stay here tonight?”
“Definitely,” Harry replied, kissing the top of his head, “Sleep now, I’m not going anywhere.”
Draco sighed and slowly drifted off to sleep.
The next night Harry waited, his back against the seventh-floor corridor wall, as the soft rhythm of approaching footsteps echoed through the hallway. He straightened when he saw Draco’s silhouette emerge from the shadows, his pale hair catching a flicker of torchlight. Harry stood up and extended his hand.
Draco paused, his eyes searching Harry’s face, before slipping his cool fingers into his palm. “You’re here again,” Draco said softly, a faint smile tugging at his lips.
“You knew I would be.”
“I hoped you would be,” Draco replied quietly.
Harry led him into the room, the door appearing seamlessly as if it had been waiting for them. Inside, the room opened into a familiar scene: the warm crackle of the fireplace, the thick rug, and the inviting couch that had already begun to feel like theirs.
As they settled on the couch, Draco turned to Harry, his face marked with both exhaustion and fragile curiosity. “Why do you do this? Why do you keep coming here?”
Harry hesitated. The question had no easy answer, but something inside him stirred—a quiet truth he hadn’t been able to find until now. “Because you make the noise stop,” he said, his voice low but steady.
Draco stared at him, the flickering firelight reflecting in his grey eyes. Slowly, he reached up, his fingers brushing along Harry’s cheek, as though grounding himself in something tangible. “You’re real,” he whispered, almost in wonder.
“I am,” Harry said, his hand moving to cradle Draco’s. “And so are you.”
Draco smiled faintly, his lips softening with the smallest measure of peace. “I never thought I’d find this,” he murmured. “Peace. Safety. Quiet.”
Harry leaned in, their faces close enough that he could feel Draco’s breath. “You don’t have to look for it alone anymore.”
Draco’s eyes flicked to his, searching for something unspoken. When he nodded, Harry closed the gap, pressing his lips to Draco’s in a kiss that was soft, tentative, and grounding. It wasn’t rushed or hungry—it was the kind of kiss that promised safety, something steady amid the chaos.
When they broke apart, Draco exhaled shakily and allowed himself to lean into Harry’s embrace. “Can we stay here tonight?”
“We can stay as long as you want,” Harry said, pulling him close, holding onto him tightly.
Draco rested his head on Harry’s chest, the rise and fall of his breathing slowing as Harry’s fingers ran gently through his hair. They stayed that way for hours, the fire dwindling to embers. Harry wasn’t sure when he drifted off, but when he woke, the sun was streaming through the window.
Draco stirred against him, his head nestled into Harry’s shoulder. He blinked awake, his hair mussed and his expression drowsy. “Morning,” he mumbled, his voice rough with sleep.
Harry tightened his arms around him and pressed a kiss to the top of his head. “Morning.”
Draco sat up slowly, rubbing at his eyes before glancing at the room, as if surprised they were still there. “I think… I think I slept.”
“We did,” Harry said.
Draco looked at him, his lips parting slightly. Then he smiled, a small, genuine curve of his mouth that Harry had never seen before. “Thank you,” he said quietly.
“For what?”
“For being here. For finding me.”
Harry reached for his hand, threading their fingers together. “We found each other.”
Draco squeezed his hand, his gaze softening. “Tonight?” he asked.
“Every night,” Harry promised.
They left the room together, the morning sun casting long shadows in the empty hallway. The promise of their sanctuary lingered behind them, waiting patiently for their return.
And for the first time in a long while, Harry felt the heaviness in his chest lift—just a little.