golden longings

XXII

***

Without enough energy or nerves to leave the safety of his bed and the privacy of the curtains Draco had fallen asleep just the way he was.
Fully clothed and without a shower.
He'd heard some hushed voices in the room but didn't pay attention to them.
His patience had been stretched thin, like a peace of parchment. So he decided to ignore everything and everyone.

When he'd finally drifted off to sleep, after a while of trying, it had been like a sweet relief. The blissful nothing of drifting, carrying him away. His body finally fully relaxing, not that he noticed.
It was the most peaceful sleep Draco had gotten in, well, since the war.
No nightmares of high pitched, manic voices echoing in marble halls, no giant snakes or pained screams.

No, but still his mind was racing, although the dreams were more mundane. Potter's words, the memory of holding his hand, the angry glare when he'd left Draco's bed. It was repeating in Draco's dream. Preventing his mind from being fully at ease.
And he felt scared, his unconscious undeniably in acceptance of something his conscience wasn't.

A memory holding off a panic attack scared Draco beyond measure. Only, he didn't recognize the fear. It scared him because it was a memory of Potter and because he'd never been able to prevent a panic attack and had no idea what it meant, no intent to consciously process it.
Even if his subconscious was trying to force him to in his sleep.

When Draco woke up in the middle of the night he was something between confused, scared and extremely pissed.
After a brief moment of laying stiff he opened his eyes. He wanted to know who was being so obnoxiously loud to wake him and smother the responsible party with a pillow.
Only when his mind slowly came awake he realised that was what waking him.

The noises were alternating between screams and whimpers sounding just as scared as Draco remembered feeling in his dream, only he couldn't remember what scared him. But he remembered the feeling, chest still tight from it.

With a wave of his wand he opened up the curtains, moving them back towards the four posts of his bed before getting up.
He observed the room carefully. A sliver of moonlight was shining through the windows and illuminating the floor. It looked a bit like the room was flooded with silver.
The curtains around two of the beds were closed. Those around Weasleys bed were wide open, but he looked very much quiet and asleep.

After a moment, Draco located the source of the sounds to be Potter's bed.
He muttered something along the lines of bloody hell and Merlin's sake and heaved himself off the bed.
Slowly, very slowly he walked over towards Potter's bed, casting a quick muffliato around it from a distance, hoping to prevent anyone else from walking up.

Half way accross the room, he cast another muffliato, around himself. The very last thing he needed was someone seeing him sneak up on Potter at night.
Salazar knew what they'd do to him.
Once he'd reached the bed, Draco hesitated for a moment before daring to pull back one of the curtains. It felt like an invasion of privacy, which it probably was.

Draco told himself that it was alright because he had good intentions, casting aside the thought that most of his intention was to continue an undisturbed sleep. If that was really his motivation he could have cast the silencing spell and went back to sleep. He didn't.

Instead, he very carefully slipped onto the bed and closed the curtain.
He sat on the mattress with caution, afraid to make any sudden movements, afraid it would give in under him.
Suddenly very aware of the darkness Draco cast a minimal Lumos, hoping it wasn't too bright.
A quiet whimper finally drew his attention to the boy whose bed he was invading.