complimentary colours • drarry •

10: nightmares

Wednesday 18th November 1998

All Draco could see was red. The light was blinding. Or maybe that was the pain, dulling his senses until all he could focus on was the agony burning through his body. A scream was ripped from his throat against his will, echoing around him until it was all he could hear.

Then, almost as suddenly as it had started, the pain vanished. But the red remained. This time in the form of a pair of eyes. Snake-like and surrounded by an inhuman face. Eyes that promised more pain, that paralysed Draco with fear.

A voice filled his head, a voice that brought past terror back from where he had buried it. But it was always there, just under the surface. Ready to re-emerge as soon as he lost control of his thoughts.

The voice was talking. Telling him what he must do. Telling him what would happen if he didn't do it. But he didn't want to. He didn't want to kill anyone.

The burning red light was back. This time without the pain. At least not his own. His mother's screams filled the room that had materialised around him. A room that should have brought back memories of childhood and nostalgia but instead made him feel sick to his stomach. There was a dark figure, the same dark figure that had stood over Draco. It was standing over someone else now, his mother. Draco tried to cover his ears but the noise was inside his head. She was pleading with the figure. Begging him to stop.

"You can stop this Draco," that same voice in his ear, like the hiss of a snake. The words felt like venom through his veins.

What choice did he have?

He was no longer in the room with the figure and his mother. He was atop a tower, staring into old eyes. Eyes that looked back at him, pleading him to let himself be saved. He saw those same eyes as the life was drained away from them, a flash of green and then falling, his last hope gone. But it wasn't his last hope. It never had been.

"Draco," another voice said.

A voice that was gentle. A voice that had become so familiar to him, bringing light into darkness when he couldn't bring himself to find it himself. A light that was getting brighter by the second until he was opening his eyes and staring, not into blue or red, but into a beautiful green. Like the colour of a forest, the colour of his tie and the eyes of the boy he had come to love.

Draco threw out an arm, removing the hand that was gripping his shoulder, shaking him.

"Let me go!" he said through a whimper, panic seeping into his voice in his disorientation. He kicked out, pushing himself back against the headboard of his bed and away from the person standing over him. With his heart still beating rapidly, his eyes moved frantically around the room, looking for the dark figure but finding only Harry with his hands up and a guilty look on his face.

"I'm sorry! I didn't mean to scare you," Harry said, taking a step back from his bed. He had his wand in hand, lit so Draco could see him clearly in the dark room.

"What are you doing?" Draco's voice wobbled, making him realise only then that he was shaking. He balled his hands into fists, trying to hide their tremor from Harry. Through his dwindling panic he felt embarrassment start to rise up, and with it a guardedness. Harry wasn't supposed to see him like this, fragile and vulnerable. So he did the only thing he knew how, he built up his walls and glared at Harry as if it was his fault.

"You were having a nightmare... I- you were talking in your sleep," Harry said. He looked as panicked as Draco felt, like he was expecting Draco to start shouting at him any second and wasn't really sure what to do about it. When Draco said nothing and continued to maintain his glare, though his heart wasn't in it, Harry averted his eyes and awkwardly pointed his thumb over his shoulder and said, "Um... I'll just..."