Opposites - a Drarry Story

Opposites- Ch. 12

Harry woke up in a cold sweat.

Sitting up in his bed, he peeled his nightshirt away from his clammy chest and tried to control his trembling. Bright moonlight was creeping through the dormitory window and into the curtain surrounding his bed, casting his shaky hands and tangled bed sheets in a pale blue light.

What happened? What time was it?

Suddenly, the contents of his dreams came into focus. It had been a nightmare in which Harry was taken back to about six months ago, during the climax of the wizarding war. In this version, Harry had lost everyone, including Ron, Hermione, and the various other close friends he had left.

Although this was not too much of an unusual occurrence to Harry-- after all, he'd been having strange dreams his entire life, and he was quite used to them the past few months-- the dream shook him all the same. 

Harry groped around for his glasses, and shoved them on his tired face upon finding the cold wire frames in his hand. When his vision was restored, he felt an instant wave of sleepy disorientation that made his head spin. Collapsing back onto the bed, he stared at the ancient ceiling, painted white by the moon.

Harry rolled over, attempting to go back to sleep, but it was no use. Images from his distressing dream were invading his exhausted mind, and his pillow and sheets were feeling uncomfortably hot and confining.

Without really thinking about what he was doing, Harry grabbed his wand-- which he had slept with every night since the war-- and found his invisibility cloak folded carefully on the nightstand next to his bed. As quietly and carefully as possible, Harry pulled back the curtain around his bed, stood up, and yanked the silvery sheet over his head. 

Harry walked as silently as possible, cringing slightly when he had to open the door to the boy's dormitory stairs. Once he was safely out of earshot of sleeping students, he tiptoed quietly down the staircase and into the common room.

Unsurprisingly, the Gryffindor common room was deserted. The dying embers in the large stone fireplace glowed faintly, radiating a soft reddish light over the dark crimson and gold room. The effect was quite cozy, and Harry suspected he could've curled up in one of the squashy arm chairs next to the fire, if he weren't currently in the business of avoiding sleep. The absolute last thing Harry wanted to give his mind right now was another opportunity to produce dreams.

Crawling through the portrait hole with ease, Harry swung his legs over and into the Dark corridor, all while managing not to wake the fat lady, who snored comfortably within her frame.

Harry swung the painting into place and started walking, to where, he didn't know. He had no particular motive or intention. Sometimes, it just felt good to Harry to walk the vast castle hallways at night, under the comfort of his trusty cloak. It reminded him of earlier, simpler times, when Harry, Ron, and Hermione could all easily fit under it, and would stalk these very halls and castle grounds together. Those had been some of the most dangerous moments in Harry's life, but also some of the most treasured. Taking secretive strolls through Hogwarts was a habit Harry was quite accustomed to, but also something to distract him from his nightmares and an alternative to forcing troubled sleep. 

 Turning a corner into a wide, dimly torch-lit corridor, something caught his eye. He paused, eyes fixed ahead on the end of the long hallway, where something seemed to have either vanished or rounded the corner. Although Harry knew that it could very well just be Filch or Mrs. Norris making precautionary dead-of-the-night rounds, Harry's trouble-seeking nature led him to follow the momentary flash, whoever or whatever it may be.

Harry walked briskly through the dark stretch of hall, carefully keeping the shuffle of his sock-laden feet to a minimum. He slowed down as he approached the corner. A soft noise was coming from just around the bend, and Harry strained his ears to identify it.