Somnio Salvus DRARRY

Chapter 5

Harry was early to breakfast for the first time in weeks. By the time Hermione had arrived, he had finished his second bowl of cereal and was reaching for the eggs. He was so busy piling up his plate he didn't notice he had an audience until Hermione asked,

'Shall I get you a bigger plate, Harry?'

'Ehm?' he replied, through a mouthful of toast.

'She means it's nice to see you've got your appetite back,' explained Ron, watching Harry scoop up scrambled eggs with his toast.

'Hmm. It's weird, I'm ravenous this morning,' mused Harry.

'You look healthier, too. You've got some colour back. Decent night's sleep at last?' asked Hermione.

'Yeah,' smiled Harry, then returned his attention to his food.

Hermione sighed with relief and smiled at Ron. 'Maybe you're getting over the nightmares after all. I must admit I thought it would take some sort of medical potion...'

'Oh, I had the nightmare...' interrupted Harry. Ron and Hermione looked at him in surprise. Harry cleared his throat, reluctant to elaborate, but they were still staring at him. 'Umm, it wasn't so bad. I mean it was. Awful. But there was...I wasn't...'

He never liked talking about his dreams, and today was especially difficult. He looked across at the Slytherin table. An unusually pale, tired-looking Malfoy looked back, expressionless. Steel-grey eyes gazed into Harry's, but without the usual sneer of loathing and contempt. Instead there was...something else.

Harry forgot what he was saying, for a moment. Ron followed Harry's gaze.

'Hell, what's wrong with Malfoy? He looks like death warmed up!' he said gleefully.

Hermione turned to look, Harry's dream momentarily forgotten. 'Good grief. Has he even done his hair this morning? He must be ill if he can't be bothered with his appearance. Maybe it's flu...'

'Maybe it's typhoid,' said Ron hopefully.

Draco Malfoy wasn't ill. At least, not physically. He was, however, in a state of shock. He wasn't sure what he had been expecting when he invaded Harry's dreams. Perhaps being chased by Dementors, or being locked in the cupboard that Harry's Muggle family made him sleep in. Maybe dragons. He could have coped with dragons. But he was having difficulty coping with the reality of what he had seen and heard the previous night.

Of course he had always known Voldemort was ruthless. He was well aware that during his rise to power there had been casualties. That was the case with any war. It was no secret that Voldemort had killed the Potters, for example. According to his father, they had tried to destroy him on many occasions and had come dangerously close to succeeding, so Voldemort had simply acted in self-defence. Draco also knew that occasionally people needed to be...persuaded...to see Voldemort's point of view. If that involved the odd threat or use of an Imperiuscurse then fair enough. It was all for the greater good, and the ends justified the means. A little bit of fear never hurt anyone, after all.

It had never occurred to Draco to wonder why Voldemort had wanted to kill Harry Potter. After all, he had been just a baby, so it must have been a mistake. The Potters would have put up a fight, as would the Death Eaters. By all accounts there was a small battle which destroyed the whole house. Voldemort must have aimed a curse at the child in the confusion...surely? And all the horror stories, which his father said were invented by the Ministry to keep people from following a progressive radical who would revolutionise the running of the wizarding world...they were just stories, they had to be!

But last night he learned something he didn't know. If Harry's subconscious mind was to be believed, Voldemort was in the habit of torturing people to death if they aggravated him, and that was not the action of a noble leader with commendable beliefs.