𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐏𝐥𝐚𝐜𝐞 𝐖𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐞 𝐓𝐡𝐞𝐲 𝐆𝐨

𝐗𝐗𝐈

"Where are you going?"

"To sleep."

"Your bed's right there," I pointed out.

"I don't want to sleep there," Draco retorted.

I quirked an eyebrow and stared him down. This had been going on for months, and it was getting a little ridicules.

"I thought you said you weren't scared of me."

"I'm not," he demanded fiercely.

"Then why is it that you can't you sleep here when I do?"

He kept standing in front of the doorway, ridged and stiff but not making a move to leave.

I sat perched on the edge of my bed, the only light shining golden from the dying flames. The way the light shadowed his face made him look like a flame himself, from a candle or a matchstick.

He stared me down, eyes hard, "It's warmer in the common room."

"Bullshit," I said, "We have a fireplace right there." I pointed to the flaming wood within the small fireplace next to the window.

"Well. We just spent half the day standing in freezing weather. I'm cold. It's warmer in there."

"Just get in your bed and go to sleep, Malfoy," I rolled my eyes, straightening myself out on my own bed.

He hesitated, but did the same. He fumbled with the perfectly made sheets, pretending to correct them. 

I glared at him from across the room. Getting my message, he slammed his head in the pillow and I saw his eyes shut.

It didn't take long before I was falling, falling, falling, until with a start my body jerked awake with the force of jumping down a full flight of stairs.

Draco was leaning to the side, wand in hand, igniting a candle on his beside table. He saw me and immediately guilt flashed across his grey features.

"What the bloody hell are you doing?" I grabbed my glasses from beside me and slid them on my nose.

He hesitated, looking for something to say. "Reading."

I scrunched my nose. "Just go to sleep."

The tone I used was the same tone I would use to say something of the obvious.

Embarrassed, he put down his wand and slowly laid back. I took my glasses off again and set them back on my table before doing the same.

The candle burned bright through my eyelids, the orange glow turning red as I squinted, trying to find some darkness.

"Can you blow that thing out?" I asked. I could have sounded nicer, and I meant to, but it was late I was tired. I didn't want to dream again either.

Draco shifted in his bed, the rustling of his blankets alerting me that he was still awake, but he didn't make a move to do what I asked.

"Malfoy."

"I can't."

Groaning, I hastily threw my glasses back on and sat up once again.

"Can't what?" I said with a scowl.

He was still laying horizontally, but his eyes were wide open, staring at the ceiling of his bed.

"Sleep."

I sighed with great displeasure, "Fine. If you want to read that bad, you can–"

"I don't want to bloody read," he growled.

His outburst came on quick, and I wondered if it was something I said, or the way I said it.

"Then what–"

"I can't sleep in the dark."

Realization took over me. Months of dark crescents under his eyes from the nightmares I knew he was suffering, nerves racked in dark hallways, refusing to sleep in the dorm when I did. Forcing himself to sleep in the common room or the library—somewhere where they kept the candles burning.

I always made sure that it was pitch black before I turned in for bed, only leaving the glowing embers of the fire.

"Oh. Draco, I'm so sorry," I softened my voice to the best of my ability, only keeping the minuscule gruffness to keep myself from sounding as if I were talking to a baby—something Draco would hate me for. "You could have told me."

He didn't say anything, only huffed, crossing his arms over his chest.

"I wouldn't have made fun of you," I said with a tilt in my head.

That must have set him off, for reasons I don't know. Maybe he thought that I pitied him, or maybe he was just too embarrassed. But the second the words left my mouth, he was out of the room, slamming the door behind him.

I sat still for a long time, my arms going numb from leaning back on them, my fingers going tingly.

I must have fell asleep at some point, because when I woke up, the sun was shining and my glasses were crooked.

Glumly and groggily, I tore my covers off and stood up. I stretched back, my arms erect and going over my shoulders, when at my feet, a small paper floated down to the floor.

It must have been resting on my blankets, falling when I stood up.

I grabbed it and flipped it over to see what it was.

It was me again. In black ink, little droplets of melted snow covering it like freckles. I looked at my side profile, and then as it moved to look right at me and smiled, looking slightly saddened by something.

I could only watch as it moved back and forth from side to front. It was brilliant, perfect.

It looked identical to me, how I looked yesterday, out in the courtyard.

***

"Harry!" Ron's voice echoed through the hall, "Harry! Mate!"

I halted my stride and spun around. I let him catch up to me, panting with his hands on his knees.

"Harry. Bloody hell, you walk fast."

"What's wrong?" I asked, getting a little worried for my friend.

He let out one last huff and stood up straight.

"Oh, nothin," he said casually, "Couldn't find you yesterday. 'Mione, Neville and me looked all over."

"Sorry. I slept most of the day," I lied. I didn't want to think about what Ron would say if I told him I'd spent the whole day with Draco. Hermione might understand more, but still, I wasn't going to tell her.

"Oh," he sighed in relief. "Did you hold up okay? I thought that maybe you'd want a distraction."

"No, I was fine."

"You sure? You sure you're okay now?" concern was evident on his face. "You need anything? A chess game? A talk? A shoulder?"

I gave him a small smile. A reassurance that I was, indeed, fine.

He left me alone as he went off to the Great Hall after that, but not before he pulled me in for a long hug. One that I expected gratefully, but didn't really need,

It just wasn't the same.