𝐃𝐑𝐀𝐑𝐑𝐘 𝐀𝐍𝐈𝐌𝐀𝐆𝐔𝐒 2008

Ain't No Friend Of Mine (4/4)

Ain’t No Friend of Mine Part 4 of 4

That was also the night Harry and Draco started sleeping together.

There was a big storm, the likes of which London rarely saw—rocking winds and loud cracks of thunder. Draco had never thought much of storms either way; he liked the fresh coolness of them, and hated the inconvenience of them.

The Dog Brain, on the other hand, made him terrified of them.

The thunder must’ve awakened Potter, or else he’d never gone to sleep after his minor breakdown. Soon enough, Draco heard Potter moving about in the kitchen. “Hey, Black, want some?” he called, but Draco was too busy taking refuge under his chair again.

Potter wasn’t making it any better, banging around as he was. “Black? Where are you, boy?”

It was not unusual, Potter being up in the middle of the night, making a snack for them to share. Draco had always had a sleeping problem too—not like Potter’s, obviously, because Potter was an insane insomniac, but anyway being a dog hadn’t changed Draco’s night time habits.

It’d only changed just how scary thunder was.

Lassie would be ashamed of his behavior, Draco remonstrated with himself.

No effect. Thunder was still very scary.

Finally, Potter came in the parlor and found Draco crouching under the chair.

“Hey, you’re under there again,” Potter said, because he still had to state the obvious even when Draco was obviously in fear for his very life.

But instead of kneeling and trying to coax Draco out from under the chair, Potter stood there, still, saying nothing.

Finally Draco looked up, curiosity overcoming cowardice.

That often happened when Potter was around.

“You were under there earlier tonight,” because Potter insisted on carrying on. “Does that mean . . . I was as scary as the thunder is?”

Also, Potter was a complete solipsist.

“You’re not . . . you’re not still scared of me, are you?”

He probably didn’t even know people other than himself existed in the world.

“Because of what I said?” Potter pressed. “I know you could understand me.”

Well, okay, maybe he noticed the sky was blue every once in a while.

“I would never hurt you.” Potter’s voice had that same unused hoarseness, the kind that meant he was speaking from deep within, deep within that place he thought Voldemort still lived, because it was as hard and untouched and lonely as Tom Riddle had ever been.

Draco took it back. Potter was stupid, and didn’t know the sky was blue.

Draco came out and licked his hand.

Potter smiled, slowly, still standing very still. “You can come upstairs.” The hoarseness was gone; he was almost laughing. “I promise to protect you. Now that’s something I’m good at.”