Somnio Salvus

Draco muddled through the rest of his classes that day in a daze. Telling the truth to Dumbledore hadn't been nearly as hard as he expected it to be; in fact it had been rather anti-climactic. Now that it was done he felt slightly detached from reality, and wondered if perhaps it hadn't happened at all. After recent events it would hardly have been surprising if he lost the ability to distinguish between reality and dreams.

After morning classes he returned to his dormitory with his father's letter. Before he had left the Headmaster's office, Dumbledore had advised him to re-encrypt it as his father instructed. He had also suggested keeping quiet about his change of faith until it was absolutely necessary to tell his father. Revealing it too soon would only put himself at risk, as well as Harry.

And that was another problem...Harry. He, Draco, was to tell Harry about the plan to abduct him. He wasn't sure how to go about that. He and Harry hadn't spoken to each other since the day of the Transfiguration test. He wasn't even sure how to address him any more. In reality, he'd never called him anything but 'Potter', but after the dreams that seemed stupidly hostile.

As he made his way to Charms he agonised over what he was going to say. He had still got no further than what to call him when he spotted the Gryffindor trio heading towards him from the Defence Against the Dark Arts corridor. He stopped and doubled back, taking the longer route to the Charms classroom. He needed to have his speech worked out before confronting Harry directly.

Arriving at Professor Flitwick's class, he took a seat at the back, as far from Harry as possible. He took notes on the theory of vocal charms without really taking any of it in - he was too busy wondering how to get Harry on his own. It would be a miracle if Harry listened to him - there was no way Granger and Weasley would.

He was just considering the possibility of cornering him after Quidditch practice when he was startled by the arrival of a small, battered teddy bear on his desk. Finnigan had apparently deposited it there from a large box he was carrying along the row. Draco looked around - everyone seemed to have a bear, or a toy soldier, or in Goyle's case, a 'Magical Mindy' doll.

'What are we supposed to do with these?' he whispered to Blaise, who was taking the clothes off Goyle's doll to see if she was anatomically correct.

'Make them talk,' he muttered. 'Oh, no! Look - she's been sewn into her underwear. Does anyone know a quick severing spell?'

Draco listened to Professor Flitwick for a moment. Apparently when learning to charm objects into talking it was best to start with objects that have faces. It was something to do with it being easier to visualise.

Gradually the class became alive with activity. Wands were swished, incantations were murmured, and before long Granger's bear said, 'I want to be your friend,' in a saccharine tone.

Draco made a face. He prodded his bear with his wand and muttered the spell without much enthusiasm. The bear discharged a stream of profanity, belched loudly, then relapsed into silence. It stubbornly refused to say another word all lesson. Draco sighed. He wasn't having much luck with Charms these days.

**********************************************************************

That evening Draco lurked behind the Quidditch changing rooms after the Gryffindor team practice, waiting for Harry. When he finally emerged, Ron Weasley was with him. Draco shrank back in the shadows and cursed the day they made Weasley the Gryffindor Keeper. He followed at a distance as Harry and Ron made their way back to the castle, but they were clearly on their way back to Gryffindor Tower for the night.

Draco slunk off to Slytherin, resigned to the fact that he'd have to wait until the next day to speak to Harry.

He stopped in his tracks outside the common room. What am I thinking? He chastised himself silently. I don't have to wait until tomorrow - I can talk to Harry alone whenever I want. I just have to wait until he's asleep!

With a new spring in his step, he entered the common room and played a lively game of table Quidditch with Pansy.

************************************************************************

Harry went to bed early, tired out from Quidditch practice. At least, that was his excuse. He was mostly tired out from pretending everything was fine and normal, and that he hadn't been used and violated by the one person he'd been starting to secretly adore.

He closed his curtains and let out a huge sigh. His face was aching from the fake smile. His throat was sore from forced laughter, and too much talking when he wasn't in the mood for chat. He gulped down some water, then picked up the instructions for the Psychic Shield.

There was no point delaying any longer. This was the only way he'd be able to get over whatever it was that he and Malfoy had shared. Still, it was with a heavy heart that he raised his wand and recited the spell. He hoped he'd pronounced the words correctly - it was hard to tell how they were supposed to be spoken when he'd only seen them written down.

He thought he noticed a faint shimmer in the air around him as he lowered his wand, but he could have imagined it. He certainly didn't feel any different. He rubbed his eyes and tried to stop thinking about it. If it had worked, he would be safe from Malfoy's intrusion. If it hadn't worked (his heart gave a hopeful little skip), well... there was only one way to find out.

He tucked himself under the covers and closed his eyes firmly. One of these days, he thought drowsily, I might just sleep like a normal person.

***********************************************************************

Draco lay awake, contemplating his idea. If he warned Harry of the attack in a dream, perhaps he would think it was a kind of premonition. He'd probably be more likely to heed the warning than if he told him in person. It can't fail, he thought, smiling to himself.

He took a mouthful of the potion and lay back, confidently navigating the swirling chaos as he had done many times before. He easily summoned a vivid picture of Harry in his mind, and felt himself soaring away, to wherever Harry was. He closed his eyes and enjoyed the floating sensation until...BANG! Suddenly everything went black. He opened his eyes to see little stars dancing in front of them, and the canopy of his bed seemed to spin alarmingly. He tried to sit up but reconsidered the matter when a splitting headache hit him suddenly with the force of a mallet.

No, horizontal is definitely better. Now what the hell was that? He tried to remember what had just happened. He'd failed to get into Harry's dream; that was for sure. But it had been nothing like the way he gently bounced back into his own body when Harry was awake. No, this was more like being hit in the face with a frying pan.

When the room stopped spinning, he tried again. This time he didn't even reach the flying stage. As soon as he saw Harry's face in his mind he felt a searing pain in his head and was hurled violently back into his body. This time he blacked out for a few minutes. When he returned to consciousness he was seeing double, and the warm trickle over his cheek suggested that his nose was bleeding. He staggered into the bathroom and squinted into the mirror. He looked as though he'd picked a fight with a troll. Bleeding nose...painful and possibly broken cheekbone...the beginnings of two magnificent black eyes...how on Earth...?

He held a wad of toilet paper to his nose and returned to the dorm, where he threw on some clothes. Then he limped off to the hospital wing, hoping Madam Pomfrey would believe that he had fallen out of bed and landed on his face.

**********************************************************************

Harry slept soundly, unaware of Draco's attempts to reach him. There were no nightmares, no dreams of any kind that he would remember. As daylight trickled between the curtains and across his bed, he slowly woke. He felt fresh, relaxed and thoroughly lonely. In those few moments between sleeping and fully waking, when he hadn't quite collected his thoughts and filed them in order of priority, all he could think was: I miss him. Then he remembered why Draco had been missing from his dream, and he reminded himself to be angry.

In the Great Hall he resolutely sat with his back to the Slytherin table, trying not to wonder if Draco was looking his way.

In lessons he tried to pretend Draco wasn't there, and told himself he was just imagining the feeling of an intense gaze boring into the back of his skull. He had to physically restrain himself from turning to stare back into those shining grey eyes. Like antique silver...his treacherous mind observed...Or mercury. Yes, definitely mercury - and just as poisonous, he told himself firmly.

That evening in the library he pointedly did not sit at his usual table in the Herbology section because it was too close to Malfoy's table by the window. So he took a seat near the door, at a small table with Seamus and Lavender. But it was hard to avoid Malfoy when he was browsing the shelves, looking for a book on elementary conjuration. Every time he rounded a corner, the Slytherin was there. Every time he took a book from a shelf, the gap left between the remaining books would reveal Malfoy standing on the other side. Once or twice he looked as though he was about to speak, but Harry made a conscious effort to ignore him and turn away.

And so it went on. For Harry the next few days were composed of long, melancholy periods of not thinking about Malfoy and definitely not missing him. These were interspersed with short bouts of anger and self-loathing (How could I be so stupid? Letting him get to me like this - it's exactly what he wants!), and punctuated by the odd awkward moment, like coming face to face with Malfoy unexpectedly on the stairs to the Astronomy Tower.

By the time Saturday arrived, he was emotionally exhausted. He skipped breakfast in favour of a long lie-in, while relishing the thought of a totally Malfoy-free weekend. That was what he needed to sort his head out. In fact, he thought with a creeping sense of enthusiasm, getting out of the castle altogether would probably do me good. Maybe I'll go for a few laps round the Quidditch pitch, and then take a stroll down to Hogsmeade with Ron and Hermione...

Lying in his warm bed, with thoughts of flying his Firebolt and a trip to Hogsmeade brightening his tired mind, Harry felt almost back to normal. Maybe everything will be alright now...he smiled to himself contentedly and went back to sleep.

***********************************************************************

Draco was anything but content. Ever since his inexplicable failure to warn Harry in a dream about the attack, he had been waiting for the opportunity to talk to him in person. It had never arrived. Time and time again he had tried to engineer situations where he might catch Harry alone: Following him around the library, hanging around the Gryffindor portrait hole, even waiting for him in the Astronomy Tower. But Harry seemed so cold and distant that he always lost his nerve and fled at the last minute.

Maybe I am a coward, after all. Maybe I should never have believed that I have the power to change anything. He wallowed pitifully in disgust while he waited outside the Great Hall for Harry to come down to breakfast.

He paced impatiently up and down the entrance hall, pausing occasionally to look up the stairs if he heard footsteps descending. He saw a steady stream of Gryffindors pass him, including Weasley and Granger, but Harry was infuriatingly absent.

An ornate clock on the wall above the front doors began to whirr and grind in preparation for striking the hour. Draco looked up to see a lifelike model of a wizard emerge from a small door next to the clock face. It struck a brass gong nine times with its wand, then retreated behind its door. Nine o'clock, thought Draco. Only five hours to go, and I still haven't warned him. Where the hell is he?

Looking through the doorway to the Great Hall, Draco could see the Gryffindor table filling up. It seemed everyone was there, except Harry. Most importantly, all the sixth year boys were there except Harry, which gave Draco an idea. He turned to the stairs and climbed them two at a time, heading for the portrait of that generously-proportioned woman in pink. Arriving slightly breathless and very nervous, he gave her his most charming smile and said, 'Leo laetus?' in a hopeful tone.

She eyed him suspiciously, but said 'Correct', and the portrait swung forward, allowing him to enter.

Draco cautiously made his way across the empty common room and up the stairs. Reaching a door marked 'Sixth Years', he paused to gather his thoughts, then entered quietly.

The curtains were still drawn around Harry's bed, and the sound of soft, rhythmic breathing could be heard coming from within. Draco was amused to find that he felt a bit guilty about sneaking into Harry's room while he was sleeping. It was rather ironic for someone who'd had no qualms about invading the deepest recesses of Harry's subconscious.

Draco tentatively reached out and drew one of the curtains aside. Harry was lying curled on his side, blankets pulled right up to his neck. He looked so serene; a hint of a smile flickered on his face and he sighed contentedly. Draco felt his nervousness and tension leave him - it was as if Harry was surrounded by a little zone of calmness, into which he had stepped. As he watched, a draught from the open door wafted across the room. Harry snuggled further under his blankets, muttering something incomprehensible. Then his nose twitched gently and he relaxed again.

Draco instantly recalled the newspaper photograph of Harry as a baby, doing exactly the same thing. He found it so unbearably cute that he let out a short, awed giggle. Then he froze. Harry was frowning slightly and stirring. He felt an impulse to run and hide, but that was what he'd been doing all week. Now, finally, he had the chance to talk to Harry alone, and he wasn't going to lose his nerve again.

Harry yawned and opened his eyes. He looked blankly at Draco, then he smiled sleepily. He murmured, 'you're back,' then rolled over and stretched thoroughly, grunting with the effort. He rubbed his eyes and sat up. Then his expression changed to one of confusion for a moment before he leapt off the bed with a loud, blasphemous exclamation.

He stood on the other side of his bed, staring at Draco in horror. 'What the fuck are you doing here?' he demanded, his voice a few tones higher than usual with panic.

Draco struggled to think of an answer that wouldn't immediately result in his being bodily removed from Gryffindor Tower, in all probability via the window.

'I'm sorry, I didn't mean to startle you. I need to tell you something...'

'How did you get in here?'

'I...umm...that's not the point! Listen to me, this is important!'

Harry's face was pale with fury. He picked up the nearest object within reach (a pillow) and flung it at Draco with all his strength. 'Listen to you? Listen to you? What could you possibly have to say that I would want to hear? What makes you think I'd believe a word you say anyway? You think I don't know what you're doing, but I'm not stupid!' He emphasised the last word by hurling another pillow.

'You don't have to believe me, just please listen,' pleaded Draco, ducking to avoid more airborne soft furnishings.

'D'you think you can mess with my head and get away with it? Did you think I wouldn't work it out?'

A balled-up pair of socks whizzed past Draco's ear. 'W...what do you mean?' asked Draco, as his heart sank into his stomach with dread. How could he know?

'I found the letter!' bellowed Harry. He paused in his projectile assault to catch his breath, glaring at Draco with an expression that could have frozen the lake.

Draco was mystified. How could he have read the letter? The only time it had left his sight, it was encrypted. 'I...I don't...I mean how...'

'How? I'll tell you how. You left it lying around, that's how! It was tucked inside this...' He threw another missile, this one bigger and heavier than its predecessors. It could have caused some damage if Draco hadn't caught it with a grunt of effort.

He looked down at the object in his hands. It was his copy of 'One Thousand Magical Herbs and Fungi', which he had thought he'd lost. Suddenly the penny dropped. 'Ah. That letter,' he sighed.

Harry leapt onto the bed and grabbed his wand from the bedside table. He stood and glared down at Draco, wand raised, positively vibrating with suppressed rage. 'I know you've been getting into my head while I've been asleep, and I know how you've been doing it. Just so you know, I've found a spell to make sure you can't do it again, so don't even try.'

Draco's eyes opened wide with shock. He knows. He knows that that was the real me. Suddenly it was very difficult to breathe. There was a lump in his throat the size of a Bludger. As he stood in silent mortification, his hand flew involuntarily to his recently repaired cheekbone. So that was why I couldn't...he locked me out of his mind...He raised his head slowly but he couldn't bring himself to look Harry in the eye.

'I'm sorry,' he whispered. 'I admit at first I wanted to...well, my intentions were not exactly honourable...'

'No shit!' replied Harry.

'I never meant to hurt you! It was just a practical joke that went too far. I should have stopped as soon as...as soon as I realised that it wasn't very funny.'

'Why didn't you?' asked Harry. His voice was calmer, more even, but still had a sharp, dangerous edge. Draco held his breath and forced himself to look into Harry's eyes. They were full of anger, and hatred...and pain.

'I couldn't. I tried but...I couldn't,' he whimpered.

'There was nobody twisting your arm, Malfoy.'

'I know, but...Harry, you were there. You know how...how it was.' His voice cracked slightly. He bit his lip to stop it trembling, and dropped his gaze to the book in his hands. He stared at it blindly, unable to take the intensity of Harry's eyes any longer. He'd done lots of despicable things to Harry in their time together at Hogwarts, most of them out of spite, anger, jealousy or any number of negative emotions. None of those things had made him feel even a twinge of guilt. This, though - the one thing he had done out of a genuine desire to change, to do some good, to be like Harry...made him feel like the lowest form of life on Earth.

Harry's wand was pointing directly at his face, shaking slightly with the force of his fury. 'Give me one good reason why I shouldn't hex you into orbit,' he growled.

'Because I came here to save your life,' replied Draco, without a pause.

Harry appeared to think about that for a moment. Then he said 'You've got twenty seconds to explain.'

Draco didn't waste a moment. He launched into a rapid account of his father's letter, recounting the time and place of the planned attack, barely pausing for breath. He ended by begging Harry to stay away from Hogsmeade. The Gryffindor's expression didn't change. He thought for a moment before stepping down off the bed and standing right in front of Draco so that he could glare intimidatingly into his face. He jabbed his wand under Draco's chin.

'I don't believe you,' He snapped. 'I think you've got your own nefarious reason for wanting me out of the way today. I think if I don't go to Hogsmeade I will miss out on something.' He paused for a moment and frowned. 'Or maybe you want to make sure I'm here alone. You've got some other foul scheme up your sleeve and you need my friends out of the way to pull it off. Well nice try, Malfoy, but guess what? I'm going to Hogsmeade.'

Draco was ready to cry with frustration. 'Fine! Go to Hogsmeade. Just please don't go into the pub.' He pleaded with his words, his tone, and with his eyes.

Harry looked at him coolly then lowered his wand and spat, 'Get out of my sight.'

Draco slowly turned away. As he left the dormitory and descended the stairs, he hoped with all his heart that Dumbledore knew what he was doing.