The World and Her Stars: One Shots

Nightmares

(POST WAR; Draco helps Rose through something he is all too familiar with, and it breaks his heart)

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NARRATOR POV

It was a slight stir that woke Draco.

A stir that was unlike the ones his witch usually made in her sleep. He was quite familiar with the typical movements and sounds she made when she slept and dreamt. He had grown accustomed to them, grown to love them, because usually, she was stirring to get closer to him.

But this was different. The movement was sudden. A sharp jerk that almost startled him. He didn't hear the whisperings of his children, so he knew it wasn't them sneaking into their bed, and--no matter how hard Nora tried to convince her parents--there was no cat, dog, or niffler that could have been jumping up onto their bed either.

He hardly had time to open his eyes before more sharp, twitch-like movements broke through the stillness of their bed again.

"No...no...please—"

Whispered pleas. Panicked. Terrified.

"No, you can't—please don't take him—"

More. Sounding even more urgent, and making Draco's stomach sink immediately. In the dark, he recognized Rose's voice, and felt a stab of emotional pain in his chest as he realized what was going on with the witch in between his arms.

"Rose?" Draco whispered, lifting his head from his pillow and trying to squint in the pure darkness.

"Don't hurt him—no—please..." Rose's head shook side to side, her chest rising and falling heavily, her breaths growing more and more frequent as her heart beat started to rise. A few moments later, before Draco's groggy brain could form a thought, Rose's twitch-like movements turned into thrashes. Like she was trying to fight or get away. Like she as trying to run but her body wouldn't let her.

"Shit—" Draco sat straight up, blindly reaching for his wand and putting up a silencing charm before he started deescalating the situation in the way Rose had done for him many times when he was the one suffering from these same nightmares.

Each one of her cries was like a stab to the heart, and he fought against every instinct to jostle her from sleep as quickly as he could. He wanted to yank her out of her nightmares; get her away from whoever she was running from. But that could harm her even further; make her panic more; cause more harm than good.

"No! Draco!" Rose thrashed, kicking the covers and sheets off the bed. "Please—please—I need to get to him—don't hurt him—"

Each word made him feel sick. The feeling of doom that he had long forgotten started to creep up in his chest, making him feel hollow. His heart pounded in his ears, his chest rising and falling heavily as he tried to clear his mind for the sake of his witch. His past threatened to send him spiraling into that dark place that he had fought so hard to stay out of, but with each one of Rose's pained cries, Draco felt as if his walls were being torn down brick by brick.

He squeezed his eyes shut, and forced himself to take a deep breath. And then another. Clearing his brain and fighting his way back into control so that he could step in and do what he needed to do. He needed to help Rose. His witch. His wife. The mother of his children. His world.

She needed him like he needed her. When it was Draco thrashing in the night, having nightmares about the day that Rose was taken away from him, it was always Rose that pulled him back into reality, and into her arms, assuring him that she wasn't going anywhere. That the war was over. They had won. They were never going to be taken away from each other again.