inflicted [h.p]

02

Harry never slept well. But now it was worse than ever. He was a borderline insomniac, being lucky to be granted even two hours of sleep a night. This confused Harry. Externally, this had been the most tranquil state his life had ever been in. No Dursley's, no Voldemort, no nothing. But internally, he was screaming, his mind plagued with thought after thought. Harry had never considered himself to be a bad person, but his thoughts and dreams now deemed him unsure.

In a drenched sweat, the boy woke with a jolt, gasping for air. It was the same dream again, though in a different place with a different person. It was always a different variation of the same situation. After his breathing slowed, Harry pulled the drape back to see that Ron was still sleeping. The muffliato charm was something Harry had perfected over the years, especially as his nightmares worsened. The last thing Harry wanted to do was be forced to talk about them with anyone. Emotions these days made him uncomfortable. Whether it was his or other people's. He really didn't give a fuck. So, avoiding the topic of his dreams all together seemed to be at least a partial solution.

Harry was only glad that Mcgonagall had decided against the idea of inter-house dormitories, thinking there would be nothing worse than the possibility of sleeping next to a Slytherin, never mind waking one with one of his nightmares.

He didn't fall back asleep after the dream. For the remainder of the night, he lay, staring at the wooden canopy above him, scratching his wrist whenever he found the constant pain subduing. He needed something to focus on, something to control and monitor. Otherwise his thoughts would consume him.

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At breakfast, Ron told Harry that the two shared the majority of their classes together, along with Hermione. Maybe the school did it intentionally, as a coping mechanism for the golden trio, so they still had each other. And if it had been any other year, Harry would've been grateful for this. But now it just meant that he had to try harder to keep himself in check, to not fucking explode in front of them. He would've preferred to be left alone.

Their first class of the day was potions. Slughorn had returned after the battle to continue teaching, so there was no doubt he would favour the Slytherin's they shared the class with. But still Harry didn't mind potions, he found it quite interesting actually, though he still would've preferred to not be there.

They were making the draught of the living death, something they had studied already in sixth year. But Harry guessed they would go through a lot of repeat lessons. After all everyone's mind had been else where in the recent school years. Well at least Harry's had.

The class groaned as each student was paired with another from the opposing house. Harry considered it a bullshit attempt at house unity. Ron whined beside him and Harry nearly allowed his intolerance to best him but before he could, he heard his name being called out.

"Harry Potter and Draco Malfoy. These seats if if you will boys, you should do well together, two bright wizards such as yourselves." Slughorn said in an all too cheery manner, pointing to a table. Harry hesitated to move towards his gestured seat, but quickly did so when he heard Ron begin complain again, no doubt shutting him up. Harry had ever realised how much Ron complained until this school year.

Draco was already sat, looking just as snobbish as the next pureblood. But he also looked miserable. He had been in the papers just as Harry had,Young Malfoy heir released from Azkaban as charges are dropped. Harry remembered The Prophet's article. Both his parents were serving time, Lucius more than Narcissa. It would have been a surprise if Draco could ever see his father again. Harry hoped he never did. It was ironic that after years of teasing Harry for his parent's deaths, for being an orphan, Draco had now fundamentally become one.