flower crowns | drarry

thirty six

thirty six
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that night, draco slept over at the gryffindor dorms again. he'd insisted it was necessary considering harry was still unwell and he would never be able to rest knowing he'd left such an idiotic boy to take care of himself. harry had half the mind to punch him for that, but he'd been far too tired, and had settled for a scowl and a scathing remark that draco easily shrugged off.

the other boys said nothing about it. they seemed to have accepted draco as someone who meant no harm despite their past animosity. harry was happy that his friends had managed to establish some semblance of trust with draco, and that the blond seemed comfortable there.

the night was spent peacefully, and harry suffered no nightmares, just vague dreams with no coherency.

when he woke up the next morning, he was nestled in draco's arms, the both of them unharmed and draco blissfully calm in sleep.

for the most part, he felt fine. fatigue still lingered like an especially clingy lover, resting in his heavy bones and dragging his lids down over his bleary eyes, and he had a headache and a chill, but his symptoms had disappeared and his fever had long since broken. physically, he was perfectly well. or at least well enough to attend classes, which he supposed was a good thing. he'd missed a good chunk of important information being absent only one day, and he couldn't afford to fall back any more.

he was the first one awake. though he was still woozy and his vision a little smeared at the edges, he didn't want to wake draco and ask him for help. he looked too peaceful, and after looking after harry so dutifully, he needed proper rest. the others too had been burdened by his little freak out and needed the sleep. and seamus and dean looked so cute, tangled together beneath the covers of dean's bed, harry couldn't have woken them if he'd wanted to.

he slipped from draco's arms as best as he could without jostling him. he immediately shivered hard, draco's heat having kept him warm and comfortable throughout the night. still, though his body begged to lay down and succumb to a few more hours of sleep, he headed to the bathroom to bathe and dress.

he managed, though it was a struggle, and he knocked over multiple toiletries and shampoo bottles with his clumsiness and shaking legs. he felt vaguely sick by the time he'd finished showering, and as he clothed himself and brushed his teeth, the nape of his neck prickled and his spine rocked with furious shudders. he couldn't shake the feeling that he was being watched, that some creature was lurking in the shadows of the bathroom, and if he turned his head, he'd catch a glimpse of a bone white face and scarlet red eyes staring back at him.

he forced himself to remember the truth, remember that voldemort was dead. he'd killed him. he'd watched him disintegrate into black ash, watched him scatter on the wind. voldemort was dead and he wasn't coming back. the past remained the past.

all his friends were fine. draco was fine.

he finished brushing his teeth and propped himself against the sink counter, regaining his breath with a few exercises, forcing his heart back to a normal, healthy tempo.

then he heard draco call for him from outside.

stumbling back into the dormitory, he found draco standing beside the bed, disheveled and disoriented from slumber. his face was twisted in distress, pretty mouth all contorted and eyebrows furrowed, but he softened in relief when he saw harry.