Carpe Noctem (DRARRY)

Chapter 12- Harry Dons A Murder Frisbee

______________________________________

Chapter 12- Harry Dons A Murder Frisbee

( A/N: this is a reference to Sherlock BBC. Basically, it means that Harry puts on his detective cap~)

~Harry's POV~

"Fuck."

He woke, air pushing at his lungs in its frantic, feverish agitation to get out. The butterflies in his stomach had migrated, fluttering unhappily in his lungs- they disliked this new terrain, it appeared.

No marigold laid in his hands, and no book had mysteriously followed him. Living shadows were absent. Harry still found himself looking for them in the blurry distance, glasses still on the bedside table to his right. He pushed them up on his nose, trying to process what he had just dreamed.

Of Draco, as he always did. They always appeared in this weird, foggy room that didn't appear to have any walls. It must've been a nightmare- Harry was no stranger to those. Somehow, though, it felt too real to be one. They were reoccurring, for one, and the certain blurriness that seemed to show up in dreams was simply not there.

It was always of a foggy room that smelled of rotting paper. Draco would push forward into the fog at the sound of a haunting voice- it was singing something, perhaps a spell, and Harry's shadow would dance in the corners of his eyes. They would always arrive at this exquisite table with a skeleton dressed in a suit sitting upon it. Draco, starry-eyed, spoke about himself freely. He told the skeleton everything, and the skeleton, in turn, gained flesh.

There was always this slight feeling of déjà vu that Harry never recognized until he woke- it reminded him of Ginny, pen nervous upon the pages of Riddle's diary. Telling him everything with no thought of the power she might be giving. The man's eyes were dark with shadow. But most importantly-

Kais Duciel. Kais Duciel. He had heard that name before, he was sure of it. Harry sighed to himself, adjusting the glasses upon his nose even though they weren't out of place. Something was decidedly wrong in the way that the dream simply stopped, in the way that a door was slammed in your face. In the way that Draco growled, snarled, teeth bared in the same expression that had come before Draco bit him for the first time. In the way that Draco never seemed to remember what happened, but Kais and Harry did.

It was either a dream or dark magic. Judging by past experiences, evil things tended to want to rip Harry limb from limb... So he, naturally, assumed it was dark magic. His first instinct was to tell Hermione and Ron, but they were asleep...

Eh. This is more interesting than sleeping, even though Ron will probably hit me for waking him. Harry grinned slightly but sobered when he remembered what he was asking about.

Sliding out of his bed, feet touching the cold, worn wooden floor with a shiver. The snores of another boy made him freeze in his tracks, breath caught somewhere between his lungs before he turned over and became silent.

He crept across the floor, placing each tawny, dusty-soled foot in front of the other in a careful, quiet sort of dance. This was one familiar to him- he would sneak across the floor at night when the Dursleys were asleep to steal some food or his wand for late-night reading.

The other boys in the room stirred from time to time at the creaking of the wood floor, but otherwise, no interruptions. Harry's tongue stuck to the roof of his mouth, musty with premature morning breath. Ron's bed was only a few steps away- don't trip-

"Ron?" He whispered, trying to rub warmth into his own arms. A head of red hair poked out slightly from under the blankets, mussed and tangled. The faeries must have gotten to it in the night- tiny drops of honey mead sparkled in the strands. It would be a nightmare to get it out in the morning, but nobody could stop the faeries without incurring further wrath. They were pests, sure, but Dumbledore insisted they meant no harm.