Disclaimer: I don’t own them. Alas, they are the brain children of the ever so wonderful JKR. I merely borrow them for my own peverse desires.

Authors Note: After trauling through all my fics, I finally found one that wasn't NC-17. However, if the standard therefore is a little shabby, I am truly sorry.


Dumbledore had once again insisted the entire school camp out in the Great Hall for the night, as they had done three years ago, when Sirius had been loose in Hogwarts. Now there were fewer students at the school, with the pending war the lower school had been sent home, fourth years and above remained. The Great Hall was a lot more spacious this time around.

He had been in a deep sleep for a few hours when the nightmare had started, and jolted himself awake with a loud gasp, his head throbbing, the cold air of the hall freezing his clammy body as he sat up in his sleeping bag, trying to regain his composure, catch his breath and calm his racing heartbeat.

“Bad dream, Potter?” A soft voice asked out of the darkness. Harry turned to look at the speaker, even though he already knew who it was. Still, it was hard to connect a soft voice with the face of Draco Malfoy.

But now, sitting curled up against the wall, two rows away from Harry, Malfoy simply looked tired and frail, the candlelight in the hall casting deep shadows over his face.

“Why are you awake?” Harry asked, rubbing his eyes with the back of his right hand.

“Couldn’t sleep,” came the quiet reply.

“Scared, Malfoy?” Harry asked, trying to cram as much irony as possible into the two words, as he threw back the same words Draco had asked him four years ago.

But instead of the defiant “You wish!” as Harry was expecting, all he got was a quiet, yet firm, “Yes.”

Harry blinked once, twice, trying to think. “You aren’t the only one, Malfoy,” he replied, finally, rubbing his eyes again and yawning.

“I know that, Potter. This isnt’ the first time you’ve woken up in the middle of the night in hysterics.”

Harry frowned. Malfoy was that observant? He knew Harry had nightmares frequently? How?

Since they had returned to Hogwarts, the houses had been mixed together in one tower, which made supervising them easier for the staff, who patrolled the tower by night. Each year group had their own dorms, so Harry and Draco now shared a room, along with the rest of the sixth year boys from Gryffindor, Hufflepuff, Ravenclaw and Blaise Zabini, the only other sixth year Slytherin boy.

But even still, Harry had made sure he put silencing charms around his bed, so that the others wouldn’t hear his nightmares. It wouldn’t do for people to know that ‘The-Boy-Who-Lived-And-Was-Going-To-Save-The-World’ was scared.

But Malfoy knew.

“How did you know?” Harry asked, setting his blurred gaze on the smoky white image of Malfoy before him.

“Like you say, we’re all scared, Potter. I hear you when you get up in the night and walk around the dorm. I can hear you breathing. Sometimes I can hear your heart beating, and I know what woke you up. I know people wake up screaming in the night because of some dream…”

This was also true. Harry wasn’t the only one to suffer nightmares. It seemed no night went by when someone in their dorm, or one close by, woke up in tears, shouting, calling out for someone who they saw dying, or, in some cases, who had already died. No, it wasn’t rare anymore…

They sat in silence for a moment, quiet breathing the only other sound to be heard, mixed with an occasional sigh or snore.

Dumbledore and Snape were down one end of the hall, although Harry couldn’t make them out. Madam Pomfrey and Professor McGonagall were by the entrance, both dozing in their chairs.

“Going back to sleep?” Malfoy whispered.

“No.” Harry replied. “You?”

He saw Malfoy shake his white blond head. “If we’re staying awake, maybe you should come over here? Save waking up everyone else…”

Harry paused. He knew Malfoy had been civil with him all year, since he arrived back in September, one of very few Slytherin’s, claiming that there was nothing for him in supporting Voldemort, so he was here. Typical Malfoy, out for himself as usual. But it had been a shock. Malfoy going against all Harry had believe him to be. Malfoy, no longer really Malfoy…more, Draco. Not the little double of his father he had always seemed to aspire to be. No longer one abiding by his families virtues. Draco was no longer the epitome of Malfoy. Draco was just Draco. And they hadn’t fought, for the sake of the war, yes, but also because there was nothing to fight about any more. The divide between them had been harshly severed, and now they both surveyed the empty space where their animosity used to be with great interest. But this was taking their relationship a step beyond tolerance. And it intrigued Harry.

He put on his glasses, stood up and picked his way over to Draco, who was undoing his sleeping bag and spreading it like a double duvet. He lifted a corner and gestured for Harry to sit beside him, covering both their lower bodies with fabric.

Harry shifted, trying to make as little of his body brush against Draco as possible, especially considering Draco slept in nothing but his underwear.

Harry’s eyes shifted upwards to the ceiling, looking at the misty stars concealed by clouds.

“’S’lovely, isn’t it?” Draco asked, surprising Harry.

“Yeah.” Harry replied, trying to find Orion beneath the clouds. Trying to find Sirius.

“We could probably find the charm in the library y’know? And put it on the ceiling of our dorm. It must be in ‘Hogwarts: A History’”

Harry chuckled. “That’s so something Hermione would say.”

“Great minds and all that.” Draco smiled back, once more surprising Harry, although he was getting used to this new Draco.

The next thing he knew he was being shaken awake, his name a harsh whisper in his ear, his heart rate accelerated again.

“Harry?!” His eyes opened to see Draco’s, pools of startling silver, looking down on him, concerned.

“What?”

“You had another nightmare.” Draco whispered, his hands still gripping Harry’s t-shirt where he had been shaking him. “You were kicking, mumbling stuff…”

“Did I kick you?” Harry aske,d sitting up again. “Did I wake you up?”

“Not too hard. And no, I wasn’t asleep. I don’t sleep much.” Draco sighed.

Harry nodded, aware that he was getting cold, the sleeping bad wasn’t covering him. He hesitantly inched closer to Draco, who responded by passing over more cover, laying it over Harry’s legs.

Draco lay down, head propped up on his pillow, gazing at the ceiling again.

The clouds had moved slightly, the stars were more visible and Harry tilted his head up to look at them.

“Lay down, if you want to.” Draco said, shuffling over again. “You can share my pillow.” Harry slid down, moving closer to Draco so that both their heads fit on the pillow. He yawned. “You’re tired.” Draco whispered, turning his head towards Harry’s ever so slightly. Harry nodded.

“You should be too,” Harry added, looking at Draco’s tired eyes. Draco shrugged. “You’re too scared to sleep.” It was a statement more than a question. Draco nodded. “Me too.” Harry admitted. “I don’t know what I’ll see when I go to sleep. I don’t know who…it’s horrible, Draco…” He broke off when he felt Draco’s arm slide over his chest, and a blond head nestle itself on his shoulder. Draco sighed, warm breath tickling Harry’s neck.

“I don’t want to sleep…” he said “…in case I never wake up again. In case we’re attacked and I can’t defend myself. I’m so scared of being helpless. I’m scared of being useless.”

“You’re not useless, you know that.” Harry replied, reaching up to par Draco’s hand, not even bothering to be shocked when Draco laced their fingers together.

“Comfort blanket.” Draco mumbled against Harry’s shoulder.

“Squishy.” Harry grinned, his other arm snaking around Draco, pulling the warm body towards him. Draco gave a disgruntled snort, but moved closer anyway, relaxing into the softness that was Harry.

The first thing he noticed when he woke up the next morning was that his right side was freezing cold. The second thing he noticed was that his left arm was dead. He groped for cover and pulled, only to have his actions restricted by another body.

“Draco…stop hogging all the cover, I’m freezing.” He whispered sleepily, pulling the cover again.

“Oh, sod off, Potter.” Draco yawned. “You should have brought your ovwn damn sleeping bag over if you were going to complain.”

Harry tugged again and Draco, surprisingly, relented, letting Harry pull a bit more cover for himself.

It hadn’t yet occurred to either of them that they had woken up together, crammed under one sleeping bag, Harry’s chest and groin pressed against Draco’s back and bum, Draco’s head resting on Harry’s forearm, explaining why it had no feeling, and their arms locked over Draco’s chest, fingers still entwined.

No, neither of them questioned it…