The Whole Nine Yards

Chapter Seven - Out Of Reach

~Harry and Draco's bedroom~

"No! No! No! No! No! No!" Draco screamed in his sleep, trapped in a nightmare.

Harry was sleeping peacefully when Draco, screaming and wildly kicking and flailing his arms about, startled him awake.

"Wha? Drac? Draco!" Harry pulled the struggling man into his arms and tried to soothe a terrified Draco.

Draco's eyes opened suddenly and he sobbed against Harry's shoulder. He had had nightmares before but this one had been far worse. They had been growing steadily worse since his father had died five years ago until now they were almost unbearable.

Harry rubbed Draco's back and murmured words of comfort into the blonde's ear.

"Honey? This can't go on. You have to talk about this, if not to me, then to someone else, maybe a counsellor," Harry suggested softly, pushing aside the hurt that his husband felt he couldn't talk to him.

He had been trying to convince Draco to talk about his nightmares for five years now without success, so maybe talking to an impartial stranger might make Draco feel better. By now Harry was willing to try anything to help Draco be happy again.

"No, no I can't," Draco sobbed.

It broke Harry's heart to see him like this. It was becoming more frequent too, like something was haunting his husband. This was the third night in a row that Draco had woken him up with his nightmares.

"What about Hermione? You know she did that muggle course in counselling to help the students here," Harry said cautiously.

"No! I can't talk to anyone," Draco said distraughtly as he pushed Harry away and rolled over to face the wall.

Harry watched Draco's shaking shoulders for a moment before sliding across the bed to spoon Draco, holding him firmly against his body.

"What if you wrote it down? It might make you feel better to get it out of your system. No one need ever read it," Harry suggested, clutching at straws.

He was at a loss to know what to do to make Draco feel better and Draco wasn't making it any easier. He insisted on bottling up whatever it was that was bothering him and he was burying himself in his work. Sure, the Slytherins had never been happier and Potions class had never been better but at the expense of Draco's mental health? It just wasn't worth it, in Harry's book.

Draco was quiet. Harry hoped he was considering at least one of his suggestions. Harry was naturally a doer, a fixer and not being able to fix whatever was wrong with Draco was making him feel useless. Harry Potter, The Boy Who Lived, The Destroyer Of Voldemort and The Bringer Of Peace To The Wizarding World was not used to feeling useless.

"Maybe [hic] writing it down would help..." Draco sniffled.

Harry tightened his arms around Draco and pressed a kiss on his bare shoulder, silently showing his support.

"I think I will try that," Draco said, his voice trembling only slightly now. He squirmed in Harry's arms until Harry loosened his hold on his husband and slid out of bed. He wrapped his robe around his slim frame and left a bemused Harry lying in bed, watching Draco leave the room.

Harry sat up, pulled on his own robe and got up to peek into the living room. Draco was already seated at the desk, a stack of parchment before him and his quill already flying across the page.

Harry smiled, a touch sadly. At last Draco had found a way to express the hurt he was feeling that Harry had unfortunately been unable to ease.

Harry wandered back to bed, pulled off his robe and lay down, staring up at the ceiling.

Tears prickled his eyes as he allowed himself to examine his own hurt at being shut out by Draco. He closed his eyes and breathed deeply, willing the tears away. He had to be strong for Draco. It just wouldn't do if Draco knew Harry was about to fall apart.

He didn't understand why Draco didn't trust him enough to confide in him. And having to watch Draco wrestle alone with whichever demons were tormenting him was tearing Harry apart.

The worst part was that he knew Hermione knew something about what was upsetting Draco. He'd noticed the two of them huddled together when he and Ron were playing Quidditch and it had been obvious that they'd been having a deep and meaningful discussion.

He'd tried questioning her about it but she had refused to comment, other than to say that it wasn't her place to tell him.

"I don't even know the whole story," she had said, "just be patient and wait for him to come to you."

I really need to trust him to tell me when he is ready, Harry thought, remembering their conversation before Ron's birthday party when Draco had promised to tell Harry when he felt ready.

Harry eventually fell into an uneasy sleep, broken by dreams of him chasing Draco across a field but he was never able to catch up to him, the blonde was always just out of reach.