Somnio Salvus DRARRY

Chapter 10

Harry woke abruptly, writhing and sweating, and vaguely aware that he had just cried out. The dream was still fresh and vivid in his mind, and he knew what he must have said. He desperately hoped that nobody had heard him.

He lay still, listening for sounds of movement from any of the other four-posters. It was hard to hear anything over the deafening thump of his own heart, so rapid it sounded like a drum-roll. For a moment he thought he had got away with it, but no...

There was a creak of bedsprings, a shuffling sound, then the hangings of his own bed twitched.

Oh no, Ron go back to bed, please, he thought frantically. His sheets barely covered him up to the waist, and he was painfully aware that the dampness of his pyjamas was due to more than just sweat. He yanked his covers up to his chin and wiped the perspiration from his face with his sleeve.

At that moment Ron's sleepy ginger head poked between the bed hangings, looking pale and ghostly in the moonlight.

'Y'okay, Harry?' he yawned.

'Yeah. I'm fine,' replied Harry, whispering to hide the fact that he was out of breath.

'Another nightmare, hmm?'

'Yeah. It's okay, Ron. Go back to sleep.'

'Mmm, 'kay.' He turned to go. Harry began to breathe again, but then Ron was back. 'Uh, Harry? Was Malfoy in your nightmare this time?'

'Why do you say that?' said Harry in a very small voice.

Ron looked puzzled for a moment, and yawned again. Then he waved a hand dismissively, saying 'Dunno. Night, Harry'.

Harry waited until he could hear faint snores from Ron's bed, then he waited a few more minutes to be on the safe side. Only then did he get up to have a wash and change his pyjamas.

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The following week was a tough one for Draco. In classes he could feel Harry's gaze on him but couldn't think of a way to react. He couldn't look back, what if Harry could see in his eyes that he was well aware of what he had been dreaming about?

He knew that what he ought to do was act normal; hurl a few insults and make snide remarks about Weasley's poverty and Granger's parentage. But he wasn't sure he could do it convincingly now that his heart wasn't in it. Besides it wouldn't feel right after what he and Harry had shared, even if it wasn't real. So he kept his head down and tried to occupy his mind with his work.

In the corridors he went out of his way to avoid the Gryffindor trio, terrified that he might give himself away if he was drawn into an altercation.

At mealtimes he half-heartedly joined in the conversations between his housemates, but clammed up the instant anyone started expressing political opinions or discussing dark magic. At these times he allowed his eyes to wander until they settled on a certain green-eyed Gryffindor. He would stare, fascinated, until the green eyes stared back. Then he would hurriedly look away and start a mundane conversation with Crabbe or Goyle.

Night times were the worst. On Monday night he lay awake thinking about Harry, and how easy it had been to pour out his heart to him. He thought about how right it had felt, lying in Harry's arms. Then he reminded himself that as far as Harry was concerned, none of it had actually happened, and a painful knot formed in his stomach.

He came close to pouring the potion away in the Slytherin boys' bathroom, but stopped himself as the first drops disappeared down the drain. Just one more time - one more dream and then I'll dispose of it, he assured himself.