Fine Line- Drarry

10

Chapter 10

Harry had nightmares every night. It never mattered which one it was this time, which version of his pitiful life would be drawn out and analyzed by his subconscious, putting the worst possible scenario imaginable in the forefront of his mind every night before going to sleep. He always died in them.

Every. Night.

Except tonight.

He and Draco called their truce. They were friends. Everything Draco ever wanted, and everything Harry ever feared. He doesn't hate the fact that he's friends with Draco. But if you'd have told him a year ago if this was his life he'd laugh in your face.

But a constant in his life was still nightmares.

But Draco ruined it.

The set up of every dream was the same as always. He was back in the graveyard. Why it always went back to fourth year, he didn't know. His mind had a whole year full of war and trauma but it went back to the time he most regrets. Sometimes Cedric was there, sometimes it was just Harry himself.

Tonight seemed no different.

He got to the graveyard. He was alone. He looked back and the shining blue portkey, up at the grave, and back down to contemplate going back. Except this time, the portkey was gone when he looked back.

Instead of Wormtail, Voldemort walked out from behind the graves. Harry was confused and looked down at his arm, only to see the scar from the knife on his arm bleeding slowly, but heavily. Still in the shape of a skull and a snake. Voldemort's eyes locked on Harry, his disturbing smile showing his yellow, decaying teeth, his tongue slightly poking out.

Harry wanted to vomit. Looking at the man who killed his parents, his friends, and him, was nauseating.

Voldemort walked forward so he was standing face to face with Harry, and leaned forward, pressing a finger to his forehead.

Harry's scar burned. It felt like someone had poured ten pots of boiling water all over his body. Like he was being fried on a stove. He wanted it over. He wanted Voldemort dead. He wanted to be dead.

Voldemort grabbed Harry's arm with the newly-formed scar on it and scraped his fingers along it. The burning sensation again took place and this time, Harry screamed. He screamed so loudly he thought his lungs would give out, or his throat would break raw. All he could feel in that moment was pain and screams.

Moving away, Voldemort let Harry drop onto the ground, dry-heaving. It wasn't a pretty sight, although Harry knew he'd looked worse.

He finally collected himself and looked up, seeing the circle of death eaters surrounding him. If he didn't know these men, he could have easily assumed it was some cult meeting. It practically was in the first place.

Everyone was in a black robe with hoods, except one.

One platinum blonde boy.

And at that moment, Harry felt as if he needed to dry-heave again.

He didn't, though. He instead realized that Draco wasn't kneeling on the ground like the rest of the men, but instead was thrown onto the ground unwillingly. He was sobbing, laying on the ground in front of his father, who had struck him across the face just for the show of emotion.

Harry wanted to run over and help Draco, but he knew that would mean death. His life was at this point the only thing he could afford.

Voldemort was talking: to Harry, to the death eaters, but all Harry could focus on was Draco. Why was he here? Was he a death eater too?

Now standing, Draco was summoned in front of the Dark Lord. All Harry could hope was that he wouldn't get hurt. Please Malfoy, don't get hurt. Voldemort ran a boney finger up the boys' arm. Then, he quickly grabbed it and shoved Draco onto his knees.

"You are of no use for me." He told the blonde. "None of us will be sad to see you go." At this, Harry looked over to Lucius, who only so much as swallowed. Why won't he save his son? Why won't he stand up for him? Surely he cares enough to save him.

Voldemort laughed, forcing the others surrounding him to as well. It was a nauseating sight, but what was more nauseating was the bright flash of red light.

Cruciatus.

He was torturing Draco. The boy had bullied, ridiculed, and embarrassed Harry for their entire stay at Hogwarts so far, but seeing him like this broke his heart into pieces. Before he could realize what he was doing, Harry stood up.

"Take me instead!"

Everything other than the sizzling of the spell went silent.

"Take you? You're willingly giving yourself up to the Dark Lord? For Draco Malfoy?" Voldemort drawled. "Well isn't this interesting?" He stopped the spell on Draco, and Harry walked over to him hurriedly, grabbing his face, making sure he wasn't going to pass out or die at that moment. "Well then, I'm so glad I get the pleasure of doing this. But first..." Voldemort drew his wand. "AVADA KEDAVRA!" The green light shot past Harry and hit Draco directly onto his chest.

Voldemort's voice drowned out as Harry looked at Draco's lifeless body in his arms.

Dead.

He's dead.

"No." Harry told himself more than anyone. "No. Draco wake up. Draco. Draco! Draco get up! Draco!" He kept yelling. Finally he saw a beam of green light once more coming out of Voldemort's wand. "NO!"

"No." This time it came out whispered. Harry opened his eyes. A hand was on his shoulder. He looked up. "Draco. Draco! You're alive!" He reached out and hugged the confused boy.

"Are you alright, scarface?" He asked, laughing only a bit, a concerned edge to his voice. "You were yelling in your dream, I couldn't sleep."

Harry looked up and around him. Bedroom. Bed. Curtains. Night. Sleep. He was asleep. It was all a dream. Funnily enough, he had never been so relieved it had been a dream. He looked up at Malfoy's face and sighed. Has Malfoy's face always been this pretty? Harry thought. What?

Harry shook the thoughts from his head and nodded to Draco. "Yeah, yeh sorry, uhm, just a nightmare. Sorry for waking you. I'm going to, erm, use the loo." He told Draco, getting up.

"Alright." He replied.

Harry shut the door behind him and stared in the mirror.

Oh my god. He thought to himself. I like Draco bloody Malfoy.