The Noctis Codex | DRARRY

EIGHT

Draco lay on his bed, staring at the ceiling, his mind running in relentless circles. His skin still felt warm where Potter had held his hand, that firm grip that had lasted longer than necessary, as if neither one of them could quite let go. The touch had lingered—steady and unshakable, like a tether he couldn't break even now, an hour later, alone in his room. It felt strange, unsettling, but in a way he couldn't dismiss. He wasn't used to feeling another person's touch, not like that, not with the strange awareness that had come with it.

He turned onto his side, closing his eyes, willing sleep to take him. When it finally did, he found himself standing alone on the familiar stretch of grass where he usually met Potter in their shared dreams. He waited, like he always did. But this time, no one appeared next to him. He felt the warm breeze, the eerie quiet settling over him, and he looked around, half-expecting Harry's figure to materialize beside him. But there was only emptiness. Draco felt a pang of unease, a strange hollowness.

The world shifted around him abruptly. He was no longer standing in the field but back in a hazy memory, the walls of Malfoy Manor stretching coldly around him. The blond couldn't help but wonder what was happening. Why was he alone this time?

His childhood room appeared in sharp relief—the austere furniture, the immaculate carpet, and the stinging silence.

He was just a boy again, perhaps seven or eight, his heart racing as he looked at the shattered vase on the floor, its delicate pieces scattered like ice. He remembered the jolt of horror as he'd realized what he'd done. The silence was broken by hurried footsteps, and his father appeared in the doorway, face livid with anger. Draco's heart sank as his father's cold, furious words echoed in his mind, followed by the door slamming shut, trapping him inside.

The memory bled into hours of silence and hunger. Locked in that room, his meals denied, left to think over his "mistake" in silence. The loneliness was sharper than he remembered, every sound amplified by the crushing quiet, and the hours dragged on endlessly.

For a reason he couldn't quite understand, Draco felt the absence of Harry beside him like a missing anchor. He should have been grateful Potter wasn't there to see this, to witness this private humiliation from his past. But instead, he felt strangely adrift without him, left to face his old fears and loneliness alone. He felt the quiet more keenly, more painfully, now that he knew what it was like to have someone else there—even if that someone was Harry Potter.

He closed his eyes, willing himself to wake up, to escape the memories. But the door of his room remained locked, and he remained alone.
—

The next morning, Draco sat in Potions class, the dim light filtering through the dungeon windows casting ghostly shadows across the stone walls. Professor Snape was at the front, his black robes billowing as he paced back and forth, eyes sharp and scrutinizing as he monitored the room. The atmosphere was heavy with tension, and Draco felt it seep into his bones. His mind was still reeling from the isolation of his dream the night before, the weight of it pressing down on him, an unwelcome reminder of how alone he truly was.

To his left, Pansy was whispering something to Blaise, their laughter cutting through the stillness. But Draco barely heard them, his thoughts spiraling back to that empty expanse of grass where he had expected to see Harry. Had something happened to him? The thought was unsettling, gnawing at the edges of his mind. He turned his gaze to the empty seat beside him, feeling a familiar pang of unease. Harry wasn't there.

"Malfoy," Snape's voice rang out, drawing everyone's attention. "I expect the potion you were assigned for extra credit. I trust you've completed it?"

Draco's heart sank. He remembered vividly that Harry had taken the potion with him after they had worked on it together. It was a hard potion, and they'd put in effort, but now it seemed Snape was prepared to chastise Harry for his absence. The Slytherin's fingers twitched as he opened his mouth, ready to speak up and explain. But just as he was about to do so, the door to the classroom burst open with a loud bang.