Labels || Drarry One-Shots

Beds

AN: so I haven't written anything since last May. Thought I'd
rectify that. Sorry, it's shitty, but enjoy nonetheless. <3

The Battle of Hogwarts had passed, and with it came the rebuilding of Hogwarts herself. Wizards and witches from all over the country came to help repair the damage done and, hopefully, gain some closure for themselves and others.

When the damage - the physical damage - was repaired, it was asked of everyone who had attended Hogwarts to repeat a year. Needless to say, there were a lot of first years that year.

Not many would-be graduates returned, and not many expected them to. It was their year, their friends and families, who were hit the hardest, and it was them who, despite all of the endearing memories that lived in their minds, flinched when looking at the castle.

(Harry sometimes felt like he wasn't all there, like some part of him had fallen asleep, and no matter how hard he tried it would never wake up again.)

But a few had braved the return. There were so few students, scattered throughout the houses, that they could all fit into two dorms, and they were all too occupied with their own troubles to care about old grudges.

Ginny and Harry had parted ways. It was a mutual agreement; Ginny felt she couldn't be with Harry - or anyone - at the moment. She was grieving, and so was her family, and she needed them more than she needed romance. Harry was too numb to disagree, so when he next woke from memories of green light and pristine train stations, he did not run to her.

He ran to Draco.

Draco, who, too, had nightmares. Draco, who dreamt of his mother's demise, of his own demise, of Harry's demise. Draco, who refused to blame anyone but himself for those who perished. Draco, who would wake up, not screaming, but sobbing, clutching at his chest, feeling the rapid beat of his terrified heart, sweaty enough that the ends of his hair curled.

There was no 'at first.' There was no slow build up of enemies then friends then... more. More than Harry could have imagined, and more than Draco ever did.

The first time, the very first time Harry woke screaming within the castle walls, he woke to a teary-eyed Draco in the bed across from him. Draco looked at him but didn't really see him, and then looked away, preparing himself for another nightmare.

Harry's feet gave a soft thud as he slid from between his sheets and onto the floor. Draco sniffled and shut his eyes, half praying Harry would ask him what was wrong and half expecting Harry to entirely ignore him.

Harry did neither, instead lifting up the blanket on Draco's bed and sliding underneath. Draco's feet were warm as Harry tangled their legs together. He wrapped an arm around Draco's abdomen and tucked Draco's head under his chin.

Draco pressed himself against Harry's chest and tried not to cry.

Harry woke the next morning to an empty bed.

He and Draco didn't talk that day, but whenever one of them found the darkness and silence of the night to be suffocating, he would crawl into the bed of the other.

—————

Once, when Harry woke up with a scream, it was to a face full of blonde hair, two pale arms tucked against his chest, and a boy pretending to be asleep.

He had no reaction other than to tighten the grip he had around Draco and bury his face against his head.

A moment.

"You awake?"

Another moment.

"Yes."

A third moment, and Harry moved to be face-to-face with Draco, who already had his eyes open and was peering through the dark and into Harry's.

"Why?"

"Because I want to talk to someone."

"About what?"

"You."

Draco dropped his gaze. "What about?"

"How you make me feel."

It took a while for Draco to answer. By the time he did, Harry was drifting off, and any filter he would have had was gone.

"How do I make you feel?"

Not a moment passed before:

"Safe."

—————

At some indiscernible point, Draco and Harry didn't even need to feel suffocated to breach the space between their beds. It just happened, and both boys felt... felt better because of it.

They felt better being able to touch and confirm that they had made it out alive.

"Why don't you sleep?"

Draco stopped pretending and answered. "Nightmares."

"I'll protect you."

"From the nightmares?"

"From anything."

—————

After a few months, it came to be that neither cared if the Seamus or Neville or Theodore or Ernie saw them crawl into eachother's beds. After a few months, it occurred to Harry that he hadn't missed Ginny for a long while. After a few months, Draco woke up one morning, and that in itself was a miracle.

—————

"You slept."

Sun was shining in through the window. Harry was smiling. Draco's eyes were droopy.

"I dreamt, too."

"Of what?"

"Of this."

And Draco lifted his chin the press his lips against Harry's, feather-soft and warm.

There was no stammering, or apologies, or awkward silence. Harry immediately cupped Draco's neck and whispered nothings and planted kisses against his mouth.

—————

By the end of the school year, Harry and Draco felt like they could be normal, live normal lives, maybe even with each other.

"I love you."

Harry paused and held his breath, never taking his eyes off of Draco's.

"I love you, too."

—————

Years later, Draco and Harry would be able to sleep without screaming, or without sobbing.

Years later, Draco and Harry would go about their days, laughing and living and loving wherever they ended up.

Years later, Draco and Harry would have no need to crawl into the other's bed, no need to confirm that the other had made it out alive.

But years later, the moonlight would filter through the blinds on two forms curled around each other, safe within each other's arms.