Drarry One-Shots

The Mirror of Erised

Summary:
Harry and Draco stumble upon the Mirror of Erised.

Harry was running through the Ministry, his heart pounding. Wizards and death-eaters fought all around him, sparks flying every time a spell was thrown. But all he could focus on was the man only a few paces in front of him, battling the woman with curly dark hair. Her eyes were wide, crazed. A wicked grin spread across her face.
"Sirius!" Harry called. The man paused, looked. His eyes met Harry's for a brief moment. Then a blaze of green light burst across Harry's vision and the world stopped. It was as if everything had halted and he was trapped in the frozen splice of time- his Godfather's eyes still locked on his as he crumpled and fell. Harry tried to run to him, but his legs felt slow and heavy. A scream fought its way up his throat. He stumbled forwards, his body wracked with sobs, and...

Harry sat bolt upright in bed, panting wildly. His sheets were soaked with sweat, his dark hair plastered to his forehead. His heartbeat thundered through his skull and he desperately pulled mouthfuls of air into his lungs. It's just a dream, he thought. Only, it wasn't. The reality of Sirius' death ripped through his chest and he gasped for air, feeling his eyes prick with tears. The room felt too small and suffocating. He needed air. Now. He pulled on his coat and staggered from the room, careful not to wake the other boys.

~

The castle was deathly quiet. The rest of Hogwarts had gone to sleep hours ago. Harry wandered the silent halls aimlessly, his thoughts drifting. While the grief still cut like a blade in his chest, he no longer felt the same suffocation and despair. He'd been having nightmares almost every night since it happened, and his dormitory had begun to feel more and more like a prison.

Harry sighed and ran his hands through his hair.
All of a sudden, he noticed a pale figure standing a few paces in front of him, gazing out the window. He frowned, taking in the familiar shock of blonde hair and pale skin.

"Malfoy?" he whispered. The boy whirled around to face him, his expression half afraid, half annoyed. His eyes locked onto Harry.

"Potter," he snapped, his features drawing into a scowl. "If you're here to hex me I'm really not in the mood."

"I can't say I've ever been in the mood to be hexed, but okay." Harry rolled his eyes.

Malfoy's frown deepened. "What do you want, Potter?"

Harry felt frustration bubble up inside him, his head still foggy from his nightmares. He was itching for a fight, and he knew Malfoy would give it to him if he pushed him.

"I want you to realise what a slimy git you are," he said.

Malfoy's eyes narrowed as he advanced towards him. "What did you say to me, Potter?" he growled. Harry took a step backwards and felt his back hit the wall, the cold seeping into his skin. All of a sudden, Malfoy was there, his hands braced on either side of Harry's head, his eyes bright and sharp with fury.

"You heard me," he hissed. "You're an asshole and a coward." Malfoy's face was inches from his own, and Harry noticed something flicker across his expression. Then, a hot puff of breath against his cheek as Malfoy leaned in to whisper in his ear.

"Listen carefully, Potter, because I'll only say this once." Harry's pulse was racing. The other boy was so close, and he could feel the heat radiating off his body- feel the press of his thigh where he'd pinned him against the wall. He felt his stomach twist as Malfoy spoke. "You are a bloody prick- so fucking arrogant and good-looking and stupid-" He broke off, his expression changing into one of mild panic. Harry felt dizzy- did Malfoy just call him good-looking?