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Harry Potter and the Prince of Ice	By : Neverwood Category: Harry Potter > Slash - Male/Male > Harry/Draco Views: 6234 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: Anal, Angst, Fingering, H/C, HJ, M/M, Oral, Rim, Solo, Spank. I do not own Harry Potter or anything associated with it. I do not recieve money for this in any way. For entertainment purposes only.

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Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter or anything associated with it. This is written for entertainment purposes only, I am not being paid for it in any way.

Chapter 3: Storms

Harry didn't come to awareness fully. He felt within his dream that something was wrong, and he had to check on whatever it was. As he slowly became more and more awake, he began to realize that the problem wasn't in his dream, but was in his reality. Specifically, it was a noise coming from Draco's room. Harry shot out of bed, scrambling for his glasses in the darkness. He grabbed his wand and cast a Lumos charm before making his way to Draco's door, not even bothering to knock before quickly entering the room, cursing the stubborn door as he did. He scanned the room, not seeing anything out of the ordinary. Draco made another noise, and Harry approached the bed at a more cautious pace. What he saw made him gasp.

Draco was laying on the bed, the covers kicked off of him. His skin and clothes was soaked with sweat, and his muscles were straining with tension. He was whimpering and crying out, presumably from whatever nightmare he was having. Harry stood there for a few moments, not knowing what to do. Ron had sometimes suffered from nightmares during their Horcrux hunt, but Hermione had been the one to take care of him. He supposed he would just have to try to remember what she had done.

Taking lessons from his memories, he sat gingerly on the bed next to Draco. He leaned towards Draco, whom he could now see was even paler than normal. This close, he could also make out that the whimpers were Malfoy talking to his nightmares, though most of it was unintelligible. Harry felt a dull throb in his chest as he heard a distinct “No!” and then a softer “Please.” before Malfoy became unintelligible again. He gently took Draco by the shoulder and shook him lightly, not wanting to cause him any further distress.

“Malfoy.” Harry whispered. Draco snuffled, but gave no other indication he had heard him. Harry cleared his throat and raised his voice a little louder. “Malfoy.”

Harry heard a very distinct whimper that time, but Draco still seemed trapped by his nightmare. Harry shook him a little harder and called out his name a little louder, but nothing seemed to be getting through to him. He needed something that would shock Draco awake without traumatizing him further. He got an idea, although he wasn't sure it wasn't going to traumatize Malfoy, but at that point he didn't care.

“Draco!” Harry said, sharp and clear.

To his surprise, it worked. Draco's eyes shot open and he sat up immediately. His eyes naturally locked onto Harry, and Harry couldn't contain another gasp. Draco's pupils were blown wide open, and they were completely devoid of anything but reflections of horror and fear. The color of his irises were pale white. To Harry's relief, Draco blinked a few times and his eyes returned to normal. He squinted, even in the dim light of Harry's Lumos, before looking away. He didn't ask Harry why he was there, for which Harry was grateful. But the silence began to stretch on, and Harry began to feel that itchiness that always came with being in an uncomfortable situation with someone else.

“I get them too.” He said softly. Draco stiffened a bit, but otherwise gave no reaction. After a minute or two, Harry was ready to go back to his own bed, even if there was no way he could fall asleep again. He had just begun to get up when he heard Draco mutter, almost too quietly to be heard,

“Storms.”

Harry looked outside, and for the first time notice the thunder, lightning, and rain raging outside. He shivered, not being a fan of storms either. He looked back at Draco, who was facing him fully now, but was looking down at the bed.

“They always get worse in storms.” Draco said, his voice soft and broken. “I don't know why.”

Harry felt sympathy rise in him. He knew why he didn't like storms. When they were younger, his cousin Dudley loved to lock Harry out of the house whenever a bad storm was about to hit, and laugh at him through the windows as he tried desperately to get back in. Sometimes Uncle Vernon or Aunt Petunia would let him in, though not out of the goodness of their heart. Sometimes they left him out there, and he couldn't count the days he had fitfully slept on that porch, Mother Nature a swirling chaos surrounding him. He shivered again at the memories before he locked them away in the back of his mind, in the Vault of Forgotten Things.

“Storms are scary.” Harry said, sounding more wise than he felt. “They make us face our own vulnerability, our own mortality. They show us how fragile we are.”

Draco sneered at him, and Harry was surprised at how disappointed he was to see that expression on his face again.

“I am not weak.” Malfoy said with disgust, nearly spitting the word out. Harry rolled his eyes in response, which he was gratified to see made Draco pause. As much as he hated that snarky expression, he was glad to have the old Draco back for a bit.

“I didn't say you were weak.” Harry said matter-of-factly. “I was mostly talking about myself, and people in general. I wasn't insulting you. Though you may find that hard to believe.”

Draco paled a bit more, if that were possible. Harry noticed his skin was still covered in a sheen of sweat, and that his clothes were sticking to him still. They were thin white pajamas, a matching pair of shirt and pants. Harry was tempted to examine Draco more closely, but refocused on Malfoy's face as he spoke again.

“I guess old habits die hard, eh?” Draco said, attempting a smile but only achieving a grimace. But Harry wasn't about to point that out to him. He rather liked having all his limbs, and wasn't about to risk having Draco rip one off.

“Guess so.” Harry said with a sigh. “So where does that leave us?”

Draco looked as if he were about to sneer again, but held himself back. Harry felt an odd sensation in his chest because of it, but wrote it off as being tired.

“I don't know.” Draco said softly, and Harry was surprised he had actually admitted to it. He thought for a moment before looking back at Draco.

“I don't suppose we could...” he trailed off as he saw a sparkle in Draco's eyes. However, it was gone almost as soon as it had appeared, and Harry chalked it up to his own imagination and the dim light.

“Don't suppose we could what, Potter?” Draco asked.

“Start over?” Harry said. He saw Draco's eyebrows lift with his own surprise, then watched them lower back down as the Slytherin considered his suggestion. After several minutes, which felt like centuries to Harry, Draco nodded to himself before looking at Harry directly.

“I think that would be best.” Draco answered, ever the aristocrat. He struck out his hand. Harry was taken into a flashback of the day at Hogwarts when Draco had offered him a very different kind of friendship. One built on politics and fame and based entirely on what they could do for each other, rather than who they were. As Harry stared into Draco's eyes and shook the offered hand, he prayed he hadn't just made a mistake.
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Harry Potter and the Prince of Ice