Drarry oneshots

Strangeness and charm

Very few things are known about the Forbidden Forest. From above, the forest measures approximately ten by thirteen miles, however, no one in recorded history has ever walked from one side to the other. The flora and fauna of the Forbidden Forest remain largely undocumented for a variety of reasons. 1. The forest possesses multiple climate zones and swiftly changing seasons. 2. Many plants present in the depths of the Forbidden Forest are documented nowhere else in the world and seem to resist both name and categorization on a primal level. 3.Those who attempt to document the secrets of the forest find themselves with wiped muggle technology and blank sheets of paper, wandering out years later with only a vague feeling of unease. It is better, most likely, just to observe such a strange, savage thing. Or, better yet, to stay far away from this wild magic altogether.

Of course, sometimes the forest calls out to us, with the rustle of leaves in the night, vines sneaking through the cracks of windows, and alien bird calls in the early morning. Sometimes it's impossible to resist.

xx

Harry sat at the Gryffindor table in an early morning stupor the first week of school. Beside him, Hermione was chattering to Ron and Neville about something he'd long lost the thread of, but that seemed to be of pressing importance to her. Harry had a headache. Harry was very, incredibly tired.

"You there, Harry?" Harry heard, just in the periphery of his consciousness. Blinking himself back to lucidity, he tried to refocus on Hermione's face.

"Sorry," he mumbled inadequately, stabbing at his eggs and toast. "Tired."

Hermione's gaze went both gentle and sharp at the same time. "You're still not sleeping?" It was sympathetic but somehow disbelieving, like he should have been better by then, like his healing could be as meticulously scheduled and color coded as her life. Highlighted in blue, two months in: 'can sleep through the night.' Highlighted in pink, three months in: 'doesn't say weird things about the war anymore.' Highlighted in yellow, four months in: 'is Harry in the way we expect him to be.'

"Nope, can't get my head to be quiet," he replied, swirling his pumpkin juice in his glass. He needed to stop zoning out, so they'd stop having this conversation. He gave her his best smile and felt something in him exhale in relief when she took his hand in hers.

"I just wish they'd up your dose of dreamless sleep," Hermione said irritably, a furrow in her brow.

"So I can end up in a coma?" Harry asked wryly, remembering how the healer had frowned when Harry had told her he still wasn't sleeping, that it wasn't enough, that his body had gotten used to it again.

She frowned. "I just think that as professional healers they should have some alternative treatment. It's horrible that they can't fix it." Harry knew for a fact that she often went to the library and researched sleeping potions for him and that nothing she tried worked, at least not for long.

"Potions aren't miracles," Ron said around a mouthful of mash. "No offense, Harry."

"None taken," Harry said, raising his glass in a mock toast. Harry could have used a miracle, or a few extra years between himself and everything that had happened. He thought he might be getting better, but he wasn't entirely sure what being better would mean. He didn't think that he'd ever be without scars.

"Have you been doing the mindfulness exercises Lav and I told you about?" Parvati asked from across the table, sloppily buttering a piece of toast. Harry gave her a guilty look and she sighed deeply at him. "It really helped me a lot. It calms the mind."

"Not really sure I like the idea of being locked in my own head, honestly," Harry replied, and she gave a little shrug.

"It's not getting locked in your head," she said, not for the first time. "If you do ever change your mind you can meditate with us," she gave him a final little smile before turning back to Lavender.