After hiding away in your room for the remainder of the morning, you swallowed your pride and went back downstairs to face the source of your fears head-on. You and your parents ended up having an hour-long conversation about their new roles in Voldemort's army. You were shocked to discover that your father had inherited a somewhat powerful position close to Voldemort himself. You didn't know if you were more proud or terrified.
The talk took place in the drawing-room. When you stepped in, you were immediately bombarded with flashbacks of the summer gala where you had met Draco for the first time. The air of the room was cold and stale and if you had to guess, it hadn't been used in a very long time. Perhaps not since the gala itself.
The entire time they talked, you took mental notes on what information you could give back to The Order when you saw them again. They interrogated you non-stop about where you disappeared to and you lied on the spot, telling them that you had taken some money with you and stayed at a run-down old motel on the outskirts of London before hitchhiking to King's Cross in early September to catch the train to Hogwarts.
For good measure, you confessed to seeing Draco at the Ministry. "He tried to take me back to you," you lied. "But I ran away."
When they asked you if you had told anyone about them becoming Death Eaters, you shook your head quickly. Technically, this wasn't a lie because the members of The Order had already known from the rumors circulating the wizarding community.
Your answers seemed to satisfy them and they released you to go about your business. On the way back to your room, you saw that the door to Draco's bedroom was slightly ajar. The lights inside were on and you could hear the low hum of voices as you passed. It occurred to you that he and his family were having a private discussion of their own.
Too afraid of getting caught eavesdropping, you decided to hurry yourself along and find solace in the quiet of your room which was where you were now, curled up tightly on the small sofa in front of the fire.
Your day-clothes had been abandoned in favor of the most comfortable pair of sweatpants you owned and a loose top. There was a book open on your lap but you couldn't focus long enough to get through the first few pages. It had been a parting gift from Hermione at the end of your fourth year that had gotten lost in your trunk up until today when you found it during your search for pajamas.
Now that the one thing you had been dreading for weeks had passed without much incident, your brain was freed up to other concerns.
You had nearly forgotten about the incident with Harry in the Room of Requirement. Remembering it again made you groan and sink deeper into the sofa. The book slid off of your lap and fell open on the hardwood floor. You paid it no mind, instead, covering your face with your hands and sighing.
Harry was free to kiss whoever he liked. Why did it bother you so much?
"Because you like him, idiot," you grumbled to yourself without thinking. After saying this, you dropped your hands and sat up straight. "Do I?"
Sure, Harry was sweet. Probably the sweetest boy you knew at school. Not to mention kind, brave, and thoughtful. He obviously cared about you deeply but after you'd seen him and Cho together, you weren't really sure how to feel.
A soft tapping pulled your attention away from your thoughts and you scrambled across the couch to get a better look at where the sound had come from. In the dim firelight, you could see that there was a blizzard raging outside. Flurries of dark snowflakes darted past the window.
Taking the candlestick from the coffee table, you stood up and cautiously made your way over to the windows. There was a small, darkened silhouette on the other side of the glass and as you drew closer, you realized that it was actually an owl perched on the window sill.
"Oh you poor thing," you tutted, clamoring to quickly unlatch the window. "Who sent you out in a storm like this?"
The owl perched itself onto your arm and it was only then that you realized that it was Hedwig, Harry's white and black speckled snowy owl. You furrowed your eyebrows and carefully took the brown envelope from between her talons. "Come on, Hedwig," you said, doing your best not to jostle her as you walked back over to the fireplace.
She seemed to snuggle deeper into the rug as you set her down. It was nearly a two hour flight from Hogwarts to Wiltshire, even longer in the storm. She must have been exhausted. After watching Hedwig settle down for a moment, you looked down at the envelope in your hands. The only address it had on it was your first and last name. Without waiting a second longer, you ripped it open and pulled out the folded piece of parchment inside.
As you read, a sigh of relief left your lips when you realized that it wasn't in fact Harry's handwriting but instead, Hermione's.
'Dear (Y/N),
I hope you are doing well and that reuniting with your family wasn't too disastrous. I know this isn't exactly what you will be wanting to hear right now, especially from me, but what happened in the Room of Requirement on Saturday needs to be addressed.
Harry filled Ronald and I in on what exactly happened but refuses to pick up a quill and write to you himself despite my attempts to coerce him to. I know this isn't exactly my place, but you need to understand that Harry is going through a lot right now and it was most likely his confusion over Cedric's death that led him to...you know.
You are not under any obligation to forgive him, but please keep this in mind.
Have a good Christmas,
Hermione Granger
PS, please send Hedwig back as soon as possible. I wasn't supposed to let her out but I was afraid Errol wouldn't be able to make the flight.'
With a heavy sigh, you re-folded the letter and tossed it down onto the table. It sort of hurt that Harry was unwilling to write to you. At the same time, you were thankful to have a friend like Hermione who cared enough to reach out to you.
After letting Hedwig rest for a few more minutes in front of the fire, you begrudgingly sent her back out into the storm as per request. If you had it your way, you would have waited until the morning when the wind died down.
Once the fire dimmed into embers, you maneuvered into bed and curled up underneath the heavy blankets. It only took a number of minutes for you to finally succumb into a dark and restless sleep.
The nightmare you stumbled into was nothing like you'd ever experienced before. In the dream, you were in the drawing-room of Malfoy Manor, surrounded on all sides by masked figures who you recognized immediately as Death Eaters.
Despite your attempts to break away, you felt arms tighten around you and hold you in place. Your vision was warped but you could barely see as the right sleeve of your top was lifted and the warm tip of a wand was pressed against your skin. Somehow you knew that they were trying to give you a Dark Mark. They were going to make you a Death Eater against your will.
"No," you cried out, though it left your mouth as a distant whisper. "Let me go!"
The room began to swirl around you and the hands encasing your shoulders lifted. When you looked around again, you realized that you were now standing in the Slytherin common room. There was no one else around and the only light came from the window that saw into the Black Lake. Green waves of light filtered through the glass and onto your skin. You waved your hands around in the air, studying the light as it moved. For a moment, relief filled you.
You were at school.
You were home.
You were safe.
Then, cutting through the silence was a loud crack. You blinked slowly as spider-webs of splintered glass wove it's way into the window. You took a cautious step back, the air suddenly very thin. You listened as it continued to crack and shatter before going silent all at once. With bated breath, you looked up at the tall window and didn't flinch even as the glass finally caved and dark green lake-water flooded the room and filled your lungs.
You jumped from the bed, clutching at your throat with one hand, the other gripping the blankets below you with a deadly grip. Wet hot tears were slipping down your cheeks and you licked them away as they fell between your parted lips.
Instantly, you realized that you weren't, in fact, drowning in the Slytherin common room or being forced to carry the Dark Mark by a bunch of strangers in masks. On the contrary, you were still in one of the many guest bedrooms at Malfoy Manor. It was still a week from Christmas, and there was a figure looming over you as you breathed deeply in and out.
Wait.
Without uttering a word, you scrambled back as far as you could until your spine was pressed against the wooden headboard. Still recovering from your awful dream, you had to wait until your vision focused enough to identify the strange figure. Once you did, however, you weren't any more relaxed.
"Draco?"
He was standing over you, one knee propped up on the mattress. He was wearing a pair of dark flannel pajama pants and a fitted long-sleeve shirt. His hair was unkempt and the longer strands fell in front of his eyes. You'd never seen him so informally dressed before.
His eyes were half-lidded with sleep, though they still held worry. As you made eye contact, he held his hand out and pressed it into the blankets between you. "It's alright," he whispered. "You've just had a nightmare."
It was still dark outside, though the storm had stopped. You couldn't make out the clock at your bedside but if you had to guess, it was around three or four in the morning. Finally catching your breath, you relaxed your shoulders and looked down to your hands, gently running your thumb over the back of your scarred wrist.
As if knowing that you weren't prepared to speak yet, Draco sat down at the edge of the bed and brought up his knee so that he could lean his elbow onto it. "I get them all the time in this house. At least now I know it's not just me."
"It was...so..." you croaked, not finding the proper words to finish that sentence.
Scary? No, it was more than that.
Without looking up, he nodded in understanding. "Intense, like you'll never wake up."
"Exactly," you breathed.
A beat of silence passed. In the moonlight, his hair looked more light than ever before. It was like the moon itself floated into your bedroom. The tears dried on your cheeks and left trails of salty residue that you wiped away with a sniffle. You felt a sharp twinge of embarrassment when you realized that you had probably been crying out in your sleep which prompted him to come check on you.
"Do you want to talk about it?" Draco asked softly, surprising you. He looked up at you just in time to see you shake your head. You were afraid that you'd scare yourself even more by talking about it out loud. With a quiet exhale, he ran a hand through his messy hair and moved to stand up. " I don't blame you."
In one quick movement, you found yourself reaching out and wrapping your fingers around his hand as he moved to stand up. It was almost instinctive how you sought out his presence. You felt your hand start to shake and hoped that he hadn't.
"I..." You gulped. "I don't want to be alone right now."
Draco looked between you and the empty spot beside you on the bed. Clearing his throat, he stepped back toward you and you let go of his arm. "I can stay if you'd like me to."
"Please?" you whispered.
It was the only encouragement he needed to lift up the covers and slide in beside you. As soon as he did, you quickly curled into his side and found much-needed comfort in his familiar scent. Draco lifted his arm to give you more room and rested his hand along your back.
His breaths were silent but deep and his chest rose and fell gradually, moving you along with it. Stifling a yawn, you brought up your hand and tucked it between your head and his chest. "You said you have nightmares often?" You asked quietly, remembering what he had told you earlier when you first woke up.
"Almost every night," he answered. You felt his heartbeat pick up underneath your hand, his words vibrating in his chest like a growl that sent shivers down your spine. It saddened you how easily that answer came to him, how accustomed he was to suffering.
"What about?" You asked, voice laced with sleep. You didn't want him to feel obligated to tell you if he wasn't comfortable. Still, you listened for his answer while subconsciously holding your breath.
"The future, mostly," he murmured, no longer sounding as tired as he had when you first started talking. "Sometimes the past."
Somehow, you knew exactly what he meant. Before you could let him know, however, a sizable yawn slipped past your lips and you covered it with your free hand. "I'm sorry," you said.
You couldn't see his face from your current position, but you could almost feel him shaking his head. "'S not your fault, is it?"
With eyes closed, you shook your head at his rhetorical question. "Goodnight, Draco," you managed to say before your brain decided that speaking took too much of your already draining energy.
"Goodnight, (Y/N)," he whispered back.
Knowing that Draco was there with you, it was easier than before to slip into unconsciousness. Even as you drifted off, you could feel his hot breath tickling the back of your neck and every so often, his fingers would lace themselves through your messy hair. It was a pleasant feeling and you forced yourself to stay awake just a little bit longer so you could remember it tomorrow.
(A/N: Coming back to edit more later. Fun fact: I'm getting my wisdom teeth removed two days before halloween and I am very upset. More edits coming today so stay tuned. Lemme know if you see any problems and I'll get 'em fixed).