The Noctis Codex | DRARRY

FIVE

A scream echoed through the air—the piercing cry of his mother. Harry froze in place, his heart pounding so loudly in his chest that he thought it might burst. He could see them inside, his parents, standing helpless before Voldemort. The tip of the dark wizard's wand glowed with a deadly light, the cruel smirk playing on his lips as he advanced.

"No... no, please, no!" Harry's voice cracked, his breaths coming faster, more ragged.

He couldn't do this. Not again.

The final moments of his parents' lives played out before him like a broken record—his mother's desperate pleas, his father's sacrifice, the flash of green light that would seal their fate. And Harry, powerless, was forced to watch.

"Stop," he whispered, choking on his own words. "Please... stop."

His vision blurred, his chest tightening painfully as panic clawed its way up his throat. The overwhelming grief, the helplessness, it was too much—he couldn't breathe, he couldn't think. His hands shook, his lungs fought for air, but it felt like the world was closing in on him, crushing him under the weight of his own despair.

Draco had been watching in silence, unsure of what to do or say. But when he saw Harry fall apart, his breath coming in shallow gasps, his face pale, something inside Draco shifted. He'd never seen Harry like this—never imagined him as anything but the stubborn, confident Gryffindor who never let anything break him.

Now, though, the dark-haired looked like a shell of that person, lost in his own anguish.

Draco's throat tightened, his usual snide remarks lost to the overwhelming discomfort of seeing Harry so vulnerable. He didn't know what to do, didn't know how to fix this. But he couldn't just stand there.

Without thinking, Draco reached out. His movements were almost automatic, like something deep inside was guiding him. He grabbed Harry's arm, pulling him close, and then mindlessly, he wrapped an arm around him, guiding the mans's head to rest against his shoulder. The sensation of holding Harry, of feeling the frantic rise and fall of his chest, was unfamiliar and unsettling, but Draco didn't hesitate. His other hand came up to cover Harry's eyes.

"Don't look," the blond whispered, his voice low, almost trembling. "Just close your eyes..."

Harry's breathing was still labored, his body tense against Draco's, but as the seconds ticked by, he didn't pull away. He let Draco's hand shield him from the horror unfolding before them, his face pressing into his shoulder as if trying to shut out the world.

"It won't last much longer," Draco continued, his voice barely more than a murmur. "I'll find a way to make it stop. I promise."

For a moment, the world around them faded. Harry's shallow breathing began to slow, his trembling lessening as he clung to Draco like a lifeline. The screams of the past seemed distant now, muffled by the closeness of another person—someone who understood, even if only a little.

Draco's hand remained over Harry's eyes, blocking the scene, the grief, the terror. For a moment, it felt like they were the only two people in this strange, twisted reality—two boys, burdened by trauma neither of them could escape.

And for the first time, Draco didn't feel the need to sneer or mock. He just held on, silent, until Harry's breathing evened out, the weight of the nightmare slowly lifting.

Eventually, the world around them began to dissolve, the scene fading into darkness. Harry felt the pull of waking, the dream slipping away. But even as the image of his parents vanished, he remained still, pressed against Draco, not ready to let go just yet.
—
When they finally returned to the waking world, Harry blinked groggily, his head still spinning. He felt the weight of reality settle over him like a heavy blanket, but there was something else—something lingering from the dream. He glanced to his side, where Draco was already sitting up against the bookshelves in their Room Of Requirement, his face unreadable in the dim light.