Drarry One Shots and Fluff

Nightmares

Eighth!year, shared common room

Harry had nightmares.

It sucked, really, if he had to be completely honest about it but he always told his friends he was fine, he just needed a few extra hours of sleep in a spare moment and a few wide-eye potions to keep him going.

He would wake up screaming his throat raw and thrashing his limbs until they got tangled in the sheets of his bed. It was inconsolable and very consistent. Every single night, without fail, he would wake up screaming until he couldn't any longer.

Until, he found a way to fix it.

He accidentally — and it was an accident, he promises, Ron — ended up falling asleep in bed with Hermione. He, Ron and Hermione were sharing a hotel room and he just climbed in the wrong bed, that's all. Everyone was shocked to find him waking up peacefully. He slept fitfully but it was the first morning since the end of the war that his throat was not burning by the time the sun rose.

And Harry wanted it so much.

So he, without fail, every single night, found his bed warmed by someone. He would usually go out to bars, picking up women, men, anyone who took his fancy, really. He would pick them up or go back to their house, have a mighty shag and then fall asleep, craving the times he woke up without slamming all of his limbs against the bed until his duvet held them down for him. When he went through all the wizard bars — gay or otherwise — he went to muggle London and made up some story about where he came from, perhaps a sob story about where his scar came from, and a muggle boy would be putty in his fingers to take home. He always preferred muggle boys over muggle girls.

However, his nightly conquests came into a problem when he returned to Hogwarts for his eighth year. There were only so many boys his age. So he, painfully, placed silencing charms around his bed and pulled his curtains closed so he could scream and thrash in peace.

Of course, Ron offered to sleep with him — not in that way. Get your mind out of the gutter — but he was awkward, the two squeezed together on a bed made for one person and he was basically all elbows. Harry woke up fitfully and with bruises on his sides. He wouldn't ask for Ron to sleep next to him again.

In fact, all of the Gryffindor boys retaking their eighth year tried a night in Harry Potter's bed — and a few girls but it didn't feel quite right to Harry so he gave up the girls after Parvati Patil tried to go a little bit too far for Harry's liking — but the boys didn't stay for one reason or another.

But he was so tired.

Eventually, after a bottle of firewhiskey and some rash decisions, Harry ended up flopping on the old dilapidated sofa in the shared eighth-year common room next to Draco Malfoy with a lopsided grin, "anyone wanna sleep with me?"

Pansy Parkinson had immediately turned up her nose at the idea and Blaise Zabini took a glare from Malfoy before he disagreed and dragged Parkinson off, leaving just Harry and Malfoy.

"You never answered my question," Harry sent him the grin that melted muggle boys' hearts, "don't need a shag or anything, just someone to sleep next to s'all."

"And why would I do that?" Malfoy snatched Harry's second bottle of firewhiskey away from him and let out an exasperated sigh as Harry pulled out a third.

With a grin, Harry flicked the cap of the bottle off and tapped the neck of his drink against Malfoy's before he took a large gulp, "drink with me at least, if you don't want to sleep with me."

Malfoy glared at him but took a sip anyway, "why do you want someone to sleep with you so badly?"

Harry stared down at his bottle with a shrug, "feels nice," he murmured, "too cold on my own," he didn't even realise that he had rested his head on Malfoy's shoulder until he was comfortable, "helps stop the nightmares," he muttered quietly into his shoulder.

Malfoy didn't say anything except took another drink from his bottle, eventually muttering that he wasn't drunk enough to climb into bed with Harry Potter. Yet.

That was how Harry woke up in a tangle of limbs the next morning — after an amazing night's sleep — with his feet tangled not in his sheets but Draco Malfoy's feet.

Malfoy let out a small groan, burying his face in his pillow before he froze and his head snapped up, "Potter?"

Harry rubbed his aching forehead, "morning," he spoke, his voice hoarse but not in pain.

"Did we-?"

"No," Harry spoke, "just sleep." He winced, "and alcohol. Never trust Seamus to bring the drinks."

Malfoy grunted, peeling back the curtains of his four-poster before he stepped out of the bed. None of the rest of the returning Gryffindor boys were awake so he was safe to wander out of the dorm with no one seeing.

Harry watched him go before he flopped his head against his pillow. Usually, sleeping in the same bed as someone would relieve him of the morning screams but would not stop the nightmares. But Harry felt well-rested for the first time in a long time. It was strange.

What was more strange, however, was Malfoy returning to Harry's dorm and handing him a potion.

With a raised eyebrow, Harry gulped it down in one go, "what was that."

"Hangover relief," he said simply, "we never talk about this. Ever."

Harry nodded, watching once more as Malfoy left.

He wasn't expecting Malfoy to sneak into Harry's bed the next night, his voice very quiet but ever present as he told him that he sleeps better with him and Harry welcomed the warmth in his bed. Once more, Harry slept peacefully and quietly.

The next night was the same, Malfoy sneaking in to sleep next to Harry, a tangle of limbs in a bed made for one keeping the nightmares away until it was a habit that Harry craved each night, waiting awake until he finally had someone slip in his arms and he could rest properly.

That was until Ron pulled back the curtains of Harry's four-poster and let out a loud shriek.

Harry groaned and hid his face in something warm, something that turned out to be the crook of Malfoy's neck.

"Harry? Are you dating Malfoy?"

Harry lifted his head up slightly to look at Malfoy, whose grey eyes were staring directly at him, "are we dating?"

Malfoy shrugged and leaned forward, pressing a soft and gentle kiss to Harry's lips before he wrapped his arms around his waist and buried his face in Harry's chest.

Harry looked back at Ron with a shrug, "seems that way," he spoke nonchalantly, "it's Saturday, isn't it?"

Ron grunted a yes.

"Great, lemme get some more sleep," Harry grinned and flicked closed the curtains of his bed, curling back into Malfoy's embrace to fall asleep peacefully.

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