An Eventful Quidditch Match (HP) (Drarry) (COMPLETED)

chapter six

"Malfoy, are you up?"

...

"Malfoy?"

...

"Fuck."

Draco rose from his bed with a tired sneer. "It's fucking late. Or early," he casts a tempus charm and saw it was 2:39 am. "It's early. What do you want?"

Harry grinned sheepishly and rubbed the back of his neck. "I just had a nightmare. It wasn't that big of a deal- I'm sorry-"

Draco sighed and re adjusted himself on the bed. He pat the place across from him, gesturing for Harry to sit there. When Harry hesitated he said, "Come on. I'm already up."

Harry placed himself across from the boy, who was now sitting criss cross apple sauce. He didn't have his glasses on. The lights were off in the infirmary so only the distant moonlight lit the room. Draco could vaguely tell that Harry had been crying. It would be so easy to say something bitchy, to tease him for it. Maybe before the war, he would've. But this is now and that was then. And as such he held his tongue. "So," Draco broke the silence, "What was it about?"

A frown etched itself on Harry face and he chewed on his thumbnail- a habit he didn't have before the memory sweep but a habit hard to break nonetheless. "It's... it's vulgar, I really don't want to say-"

"Then why'd the hell you wake me up for it!" Draco said with agitation.

"Because I need a hug, okay!" He angrily wiped at his face where new tears. Draco's jaw dropped and his eyes widened.

"Me hug you?" Harry flinched back as if the words actually stung him.

"I'm sorry. It was a dumb idea and I'll leave you alone now-" Harry moved to leave but Draco grabbed his arm.

"No, it's just that," Draco sighed. "I'm not very good at things such as that."

Harry lowered himself back into the bed and Draco released his arm. Harry's voice was gentle and quiet, though it sounded much louder as the only voice in the infirmary. "Could you still try?"

Draco hesitated for a moment and Harry was convinced he'd get a harsh "no" and a hex, but he was pleasantly surprised when Draco wrapped his arms around him. Harry buried his head in his shoulder, his tears running freely now. It's warm, Harry thought, which only brought another wave of tears. He melted into the embrace, his arms wrapping around Draco's neck as Draco's went around his waist. They held that stance for what felt like forever, but was only fifthteen minutes, before Harry sniffed one lat time and pulled back. His eyes were red and his face tear streaked, but he was smiling.

"Thank you," he whispered and Draco plainly nodded. He thought Harry was going to leave, but he didn't. Instead Harry stared at him intensely as he sat, as if deciding whether or not to tell him something.

During the hug Draco became overwhelmed with emotion and he thought he himself was going to cry. When was the last time he'd been hugged? Must've been when he was an infant. So long ago... He'd forgotten how secure it felt.

"I think I'm ready to talk about the dream," Harry's soothing voice broke Draco's train of thoughts. "If you'd let me."

Draco, not trusting his voice, nodded. Harry spoke slowly at first, completely stopping at points of the story, but he picked up a more moderate pace the more he spoke.

Once he was finished, he began crying again, and Draco hugged him. Neither complained.

The dream was as such:

"Harry."

The voice echoed around him, but he couldn't tell where it was coming from. He didn't recognize the voice. Sudden, two figures walked in, hand in hand. Two girls, one really short the other extremely tall. The hands that were intertwined were black and rotted. The death of their hands was slowly spreading up their arms, though neither seemed to notice or care.

"Harry," The shorter one spoke, revealing where the voice had came from. He didn't recognize the voice, still, or the girl. "You're alone, Harry."

Harry became puzzled. He wasn't alone, surely! He had Draco-

But the taller one, seemingly able to read his thoughts, laughed. "No you don't. He's dead. You killed him."

Harry shook his head furiously. "No-"

"Don't you remember this?" They spoke on unison and the scene changed. He was watching himself in the infirmary. He was on Malfoy's bed, illuminated but the moon light, hugging him who crying.

"He's alive, though," Harry noted.

"Not for long~" The taller one sang. And she spoke the truth. A moment later, the Harry hugging Malfoy stabbed him in the back. In and out, in and out. Harry must've stabbed him twenty times, at least, before he stopped.

"Stop! Stop!" Harry called, but the other Harry didn't listen. He just kept stabbing. Harry ran over and tried to take the knife from the Other Harry, but his hand went right through. It was a memory. He couldn't interfer with a memory. Harry sobbed as Other Harry drug the blonde's limp and bleeding body to the window, opening it and tipping Draco out of it. The body left a trail of blood in the white colored floor. Upon seeing it, Harry was sure he was going to vomit, but didn't.

The couple laughed again and Harry noticed the rotting of their hands had engulfed their entire arms now. "Armistice, you should tell him," the taller one spoke.

The shorter one, Armistice, apperantly, chuckled. "What an honor, Pristina! Harry, my dear, you're worse than Voldemort. You're Dark. You're destined to kill everyone you know and love. Or should I say, don't know! Hehe he!" Her laughed echoed in the infirmary, making the supposed memory collapse.

They stood in an empty white space alone. The vastness of it seemed to stretch forever. Harry wept. "I don't want to hurt anyone!"

"Then take our hands, Harry! Take them, take them!" the couple held out their rotting entwined hands. "Just cup your hands around them, Harry. It's that easy."

Harry complied.