The Noctis Codex | DRARRY

FOUR

Harry felt the familiar pull of sleep as soon as his head hit the pillow. Despite the exhaustion, his mind raced, heart pounding with the knowledge that once his eyes closed, he'd be somewhere else.

The soft grass met his skin as he blinked into consciousness. The sun was warm, shining down exactly as it had the last times. The peaceful meadow stretched around him, but it no longer felt peaceful. He knew what was coming.

He turned his head, already anticipating what—or rather who—he would see.

"Right on schedule, Potter." Draco's voice drawled from somewhere behind him, tinged with mild annoyance. Harry pushed himself up and turned to find Malfoy standing with his arms crossed, the same smirk he'd worn in the real world plastered on his face.

"Would've been nice to go a night without this," Harry muttered, standing up and brushing bits of grass off his robes. He wasn't surprised anymore to see Draco here. They'd been thrown together so many times that it almost felt like a routine.

"Really, Potter? That's what you wear to bed?"

The dark-haired glanced down at his rumpled pajamas—a plain T-shirt and old flannel pants, clearly not designed for style.

"Merlin, no wonder you're always so disheveled," Draco continued, smirking. "Do you raid a lost-and-found for those?"

"Do you ever stop?" Harry breathed, cheeks flushing a bit. "It's just sleepwear, Malfoy. We've got bigger things to worry about."

Draco's smirk deepened. "Well, next time you drag me into one of these little dream scenarios, Potter, try to make an effort. I'd rather not be haunted by your tragic fashion choices."

The air around them seemed to shimmer, and suddenly, the warmth of the meadow faded away, replaced by the cold, grey stone of a dimly lit room. Harry felt a knot form in his stomach as he recognized the place.

The dark-haired man swallowed hard. "The cupboard under the stairs." He didn't need to say more—Draco understood immediately.

They were back at Number Four, Privet Drive, the Dursleys' house. The one place Harry had always dreaded returning to.

The familiar sound of footsteps thundered from above, and before either of them could react, the door to the cupboard creaked open. A large, shadowy figure loomed over them—Vernon Dursley.

Harry's breath caught in his throat. "Not again."

The dream had thrown them here before, but this time felt different. More vivid. More real.

Vernon's voice was a low, dangerous growl. "Get out here, boy."

Draco, for once, seemed at a loss for words, his eyes flicking from the looming figure to Harry. "Is this how it was for you?" he asked quietly, sounding almost... shocked.

But Harry couldn't answer. All he could do was watch as his younger self, skinny and frightened, emerged from the cupboard. The scene unfolded as it had so many times before—the yelling, the accusations, the punishment. And like before, both wizards could only watch, powerless.

But this time, Draco didn't remain silent. "That's enough!" he snapped, stepping forward, his eyes blazing with fury as he faced Vernon Dursley. "You can't—"

His words died on his lips as Vernon moved right through him, ignoring Draco entirely.

They both knew it was pointless. "You can't stop it," he muttered, his voice hollow. "I've tried before."

"No one deserves this. Not even you."

Harry blinked, surprised by the sincerity in Draco's tone. For a moment, they just stood there, watching as the memory played out in front of them.