erised ➵ drarry ✔️

one

Disclaimer: this is more of a short story and there are some plot lines that don't really go anywhere and I kinda wish I didn't add them but it'd be boring without them so sorry in advance!!

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Harry awoke with a start. He panted in the darkness, wiping the layer of sweat from his forehead and fumbling around for his glasses. The high pitched scream of his mother still rang through his ears as he pressed his horn-rimmed spectacles to his face. Ron, Dean, and Seamus still lay there asleep, and the familiar snores of Neville filled the room as well.

With a sigh, Harry fell back on his bed, feeling his heart rate fall back down to normal. That was just another one of the many nightmares he'd had since Voldemort and many of his friends and peers at school died. At least his scar wasn't stinging like it usually would be after a nightmare, but, after the battle, most nights were filled with people waking up in shock all throughout Hogwarts castle. He hoped that, with Voldemort being gone, his scar would no longer pain him. Sighing again, he put his glasses back down on his bedside table and stared up at the ceiling, willing his body to feel tired again.

No matter how hard he tried, Harry couldn't stop the images of the battle replaying over in his mind. He gave up after what felt like an hour and checked his watch, which read: 4:26. Swearing under his breath, he decided to get up anyway, seeing as there wasn't any hope in him going back to sleep.

He dressed in the darkness, careful not to wake the others up at this ungodly hour. Finally, he took his wand, the marauders map, and, despite eighth-years having more perks than the years below, his invisibility cloak, just incase he ran into an angry Filch on his journey.

Harry climbed through the portrait hole and into the corridor. The sun had just begun to rise, casting a faint golden glow over everything. He didn't have to use lumos, so he set off through the castle with his wand in his pocket. A good walk would clear his mind, or at least let him ponder over things without being trapped in a stuffy room with four other boys.

He walked for a good hour and a half, just through the corridors, thinking intently. Before long, the sun had risen completely and had begun its graceful arc across the clear blue sky, and Harry decided to perch on a windowsill to watch the peachy tones in the sky fade to a soft lilac, then blue. He lay his forehead against the cool glass, listening to the birds chirping and the portraits on the walls wake up, shortly followed by the early rising students going down to breakfast at 6:30.

When the hour turned to 7, Harry lifted his head from the glass and followed a small crowd of sixth-years to the Great Hall. At around quarter to 8, Hermione appeared, then Ron (an unusually early start for him on a weekend). Harry didn't tell them about the nightmare.

He didn't talk much that day, or the rest of the week that followed, for the nightmares continued, as did Harry's early morning wanderings through the castle. But his silent, somber journeys in the corridors were soon to be filled with, at first, hesitant conversations with someone whom Harry'd never thought he'd be conversing with.