Chapter Text
His eyes snapped open.
A cold sweat rolled down his back, soaking his spine and the collar of his sleep shirt. For a moment, he stayed completely still as the sleepiness left his body. His chest was rising in shallow breaths, like his body already knew. Something was wrong. Horribly wrong.
Bits of the dream returned to him, and despite himself, a hazy smile tugged at his lips. The green. A gentle voice calling out to him. An embrace. And it wasn’t just a dream. He knew it wasn’t.
His eyes widened dramatically, panic taking hold.
He scrambled upright, struggling to escape from his sheets that tangled around him during the night. The panic barely let him hold onto rationality at this point and a string of words escaped his lips in a wheeze. “No no no no nononono— fuck no.” His breath caught in his throat.
Draco rushed to his feet.
The panic was thick, and urgency pulled his thoughts in a single direction. He reached for his trunk with trembling hands, yanked it open, and pulled on the first jumper he found. Pyjama bottoms were replaced by trousers — the neat pleats crumpled from how carelessly he stepped into them.
His loafers were a battle. His hands were shaking so badly it took him three tries to get them on.
The very second he was presentable, Draco rushed through the door of his dormitory.
The morning light passing through the lake made the dungeons look even greener at this early time of the day. It was mostly quiet, and the fireplaces were already lit to help with the biting cold of the winter.
He passed a few early risers, and Draco caught the critical glance of a first year who looked up from a Charms book. He forced himself to stop rushing and regain his composure. Draco could only imagine how frazzled he looked at this moment.
He spotted her near the common room fireplace, chatting lazily with a younger girl. Pansy Parkinson, perfectly coiffed even this early, wrapped in a heavy green cardigan and lips already painted red. She saw him from the corner of her eye, looking up at him with mild surprise—her eyes narrowing at his approach. She could probably tell something was wrong.
“Pansy.” His tone was urgent. Draco grabbed her arm — not harshly, but firmly. He tried to compose himself, but his hand was shaking. She looked at him, puzzled, and so did the girl she was chatting to. “I’m sorry,” he rasped, glancing at the younger Slytherin. “Something’s come up. I need to borrow Pansy for a moment.” His tried for polite, but his voice was brittle, breath catching.
The girl blinked in confusion. Draco didn’t wait. He nodded once, then pulled Pansy down the corridor with him. They walked too fast, dodging a few other students, until they reached the abandoned stairwell. A safe spot to talk, as no one could be bothered to come to the cold and humid spot, aside from young couples that were desperate for a private snog.
He crumpled. Shoulders folding inward, breath coming in shallow pulls. He dropped onto the old wooden bench and pressed his hands to his face.
Pansy crossed her arms, looking annoyed, but her concern shines through. “What in Merlin’s name is going on, Draco?” she snapped. “You can’t just barge in like that. Your—your reputation—we’ve talked about this—”
“It’s Potter.” Draco wheezed.
She froze. “What?” He didn’t lift his head, his heart was speeding up again. “Did… Potter, attack you?” She reached a worried hand to his shoulder.
“No.” He hissed through his teeth. Now that he was saying it, it felt real, and the panic was only getting worse. Tears were prickling his eyes now, hot and infuriating.
“Draco,” Pansy said softly, “what’s going on?”
He looked up slowly. His face was pale, drawn, vulnerable, a mix of fear and sadness contorting his face. “I dreamt of him.”
“Huh?” She frowned.
Footsteps echoed toward them, and Draco frantically wiped at his face, trying to erase any sign of tears and chase the anguish away from his face.
Blaise Zabini came around the corner. He was rubbing his face to wipe away the sleepiness as he propped his shoulder against the wall. He looked sleep-rumpled and smug all at once. “There you are,” he yawned, propping a shoulder against the stone wall. “Heard you fall out of bed this morning.” He tapped Draco on the shoulder and said, with an easy smile “By the way, happy birthday Draco!”
And Draco broke down in heavy sobs. Violent, wracking ones that bent him in half on the bench.
Blaise froze and straightened up, looking at Pansy and Draco respectively. “Wha— did I say something?”
Pansy’s face had gone pale. A slow, stunned realisation bloomed in her expression. Her hand went to her mouth, eyes wide. “Oh.” She murmured. “…Oh no.”