Seven Steps || Drarry

Part 30

His old room, he was in his old room. Draco couldn't make out the details of the small space, but he knew, he felt it in the growing pit in his stomach.

Darkness and shadows crept in, edges of light showed edges of shelves and the shadows of the toys and figures lining them stretched up over the walls like reaching fingers. And a single line of light shone under the narrow door. Something was moving, a clicking shifting something that cast a pacing shadow.

His old bed, always too narrow was now far too big, sinking and pulling him down in like a swamp. Draco tried to cry out for his mother but the words caught and stuck in his throat like treacle.

The shadow under the door paced back and forth. He tried to push himself back, scrambling and shoving, his legs suddenly weak and useless. He had to hide, he had to get to the back of the closet and hold his breath until it was gone. But the sheets caught around his feet and bed kept pulling him down. And Draco knew, he knew his mother couldn't save him.

Something scratched at the door. The knob rattled. And slowly began to turn.

Everything came loose all at once, and Draco moved backwards, away from the door and off the bed and fell and fell and-

Draco twitched awake, his heart thundering in his chest and echoing up into his head. He held perfectly still as his eyes slowly focused on the room, lit faintly by the lamps in the sitting room, reminding him that this wasn't that room, that time, it was just a nightmare.

He unclenched his jaw, blinked, forced himself to relax. He pushed himself up, shivering as the cool air hit his sweat-soaked sleep shirt and conjured a glass of water, sipping it slowly, pressing the glass against his flushed cheeks.

A huff made him look down at Harry, more on Draco's pillow than the one he had started on, Harry's brown furrowed with a faint frown and his hands, that had been loose and open, he pulled tight to his chest.

Draco vanished the glass and laid back down, trying not to disturb Harry as he eased the blankets and heavy comforter back over them. Harry let out a little sigh and curled in closer to him. Draco brushed the hair back off Harry's forehead. He could just make out his famous scar in the dim light.

Draco never understood the weight a scar could have until he carried his own scars and they were light as a feather in comparison to Harry's. Except his were caused by bad decisions and lashing out and impossible choices and would burden Draco for the rest of his life, would make him a burden for anyone he was close to.

Draco sighed and pressed his face into the pillow, willing himself to go back to sleep. He knew his thoughts were poisoned by the nightmare and how late it was but even knowing that he couldn't keep himself from thinking to them.

_____

Draco flinched as someone pinched him hard on the arm.

"Wake up, dumb-dumb," Pansy said right by his ear. Her voice took on a sing-songy tone, "If you don't, you know what will happen~"

Draco pulled away from her before she could cast something that would inevitably be cold, wet and possibly slimy. He glared at her through sleep squinted eyes, "Why the fuck are you here?"

Pansy propped her elbows on the bed, "If you mean, 'where is your precious Potter' he's eating breakfast, or something. He was trying to wake you nicely," she made a face, "when you're practically a lump of wet mud this early."

Draco groaned into his pillow in agreement.

"What happened to your hair?" Pansy snickered.

Draco raised his head, a few fine strands of hair floating down onto his nose, loose and staticy. He tried to blow them off, and they fell right back, making his nose itch. "Harry rinsed my conditioner out too soon," he said scratching his nose and trying to smooth his hair back.