Bitter Transmutation : Cruel Transformation || Drarry

Part 13

Harry woke with a gasp, sitting up from the narrow pallet bed as shudders racked through his twitching muscles. He put his feet on the floor, focusing on the cold, taking deep breaths until they evened out and the shudders had dropped to a faint tremor.

Harry went over to the couch, adding a log to the coals in before he collapsed back into the thin cushions. He pulled his hair over his shoulder, dragging his fingers carelessly through the tangles and knots as he stared blankly at the small flames creeping up the wood.

He thought he had seen every horrifying thing his mind could conjure. The fiendfyre he almost expected, he had dreamed it before, watching Ron and Hermione get consumed by fire before it came for him. He hadn't- he hadn't-

Harry shivered and shook this head trying to get the image out of his mind of the Manor and chandelier falling, Malfoy right under it, his eyes locked with Harry's as if begging him to save him. And Harry couldn't move, not until it was too late and the only thing he could see laying among the shattered crystals was a single limp, pale hand, and blood, so much blood, thin and spreading out like it was mixing with water from a bathroom-

Harry shook his head again, pressing his palms against his eyelids until lights danced behind them. He knew better than to try and go back to sleep, his bastard of a mind would only give him more of the same.

It was fine. Morning would come soon enough, and he could catch a few brief naps in class, the kind that never got deep enough for dreams and- be fine. He would be fine.

-

-

The next night, Harry added a heating charm to his blankets and stoked up the fire so that he slept fitfully, tossing and turning, and sweating through his clothes. Malfoy complained about it being too warm though, so he let the fire go out the following night and only used the charms, adding one to his mattress as well as the blanket.

It worked, until the charms wore off sometime deep into the night, and he found himself sunk into a quicksand of a nightmare that he had to fight to wake from. He was left shaking, his heart racing with unspent adrenaline and an anxious mind that he couldn't shake from a dream he couldn't remember.

Harry just- he wanted to splash cold water on his face, to look himself in the mirror and- and- he wanted to see that Malfoy was alright.

He rose to his feet, clutching his shaky hands into fists as he crossed the floor. Despite what Malfoy said, Harry knew how to walk quietly, especially at night when he didn't want to be heard. Harry had years of practice from the Dursely's, by the time he was seven, he never got caught when he slipped into the kitchen to sneak a few bites of food, at least not for making noise.

Harry walked on tiptoe, making sure to step on the edges, where people didn't walk, and the boards weren't likely to squeak. Once he was on the stones around the edge and the stairs leading up, it was much easier to move silently.

Harry didn't find what he expected when he came up the stairs. Which was Malfoy asleep, instead, he was sitting up against his headboard, a book propped up on his knees and looking half asleep as he tried to read.

Malfoy looked over at Harry even though he was sure he hadn't made a sound.

"Shouldn't you be asleep?" Harry asked.

"Shouldn't you?" Malfoy asked right back.

Harry rolled his eyes, "Yeah, well, I just need the loo. But you can't sleep after I leave, right? If you don't sleep now you're gonna be tired tomorrow."

Malfoy rubbed his eyes, fighting down a yawn.

"Right?" Harry pressed.

"I've been able to take short naps, and I wanted to see if I stayed up, maybe I could sleep even after you've left," Malfoy said.