With A Dragon's Heart

CHAPTER FOUR: The Nightmares

Ronald Weasley woke up with a start, terrified. He quickly scanned the darkened room to see if there were any signs of danger. Squinting, he tried to adjust to the night so the shadows would come into view. Nothing, nothing was there save for the three other boys sleeping soundly. But he knew he didn\'t imagine it. He had heard something that woke him up from a deep sleep. He knew from experience, it was Harry and his constant nightmares. And this was not the first time he heard him in the middle of the night.

The last time, and every time for that matter, it was Harry’s cries that woke him. Cries of anguish, cries of fear, cries of begging, and cries of protests. But he never mentioned it to Harry, nor to Hermione. He knew she would confront Harry, and it would definitely put him on the defence. The last thing Ron wanted to hear from Harry was lies. And he would. He knew he would hear it from him. But he just wished Harry would talk about it with him, but he never did. Not once.

In the beginning, Ron assumed it was about you-know-who, but as he listened more closely to some of the words Harry yelled, it was inevitably not. Ron had wondered so many times, what was Harry so afraid of? He began to watch Harry while he slept, but the sentences he would scream were so confusing, Ron found he could not decipher the mumbled words for them to make any sense. The other two boys had been aroused from their slumber too many times, that they secretly made a potion to block out the sounds of Harry’s cries of pain. They knew as well, that he should get some type of help, but Ron assured them that it was nothing to be concerned about. But it still kept them awake for hours.

Listening to Harry’s uneven breathing, he assumed Harry was finished for the night. Lying back down, he took in a deep breath of relief and closed his eyes in hopes he would be able to go back to his happy dream. He wanted so much that he could transfer some of his dreams to Harry, but his dreams were usually all about Hermione. He snorted a silent laugh and turned on his side, facing away from Harry.

“GODS! NO! PLEASE STOP! STOP TRYING TO KILL ME!”

Ron jumped up, scrambling to the floor. This was the first time Harry’s words were clear. The very first time. Ron’s mind was in a turmoil. What happened to Harry to cause a change in pattern? Malfoy? It must be! Ever since that day with him, Harry’s behaviour had been getting worse. From Harry’s nightmares to when he was wide awake. If it was Malfoy, what was he doing to Harry to make him become so violent? It was driving Ron insane. He desperately wanted to help Harry, but had no idea where to begin. And now Hermione was growing suspicious.

He heard rumours that Harry wasn’t going to be expelled, but had to take counselling sessions instead. And unbelievably, SNAPE would be the COUNSELLOR! And to make matters even worse, Malfoy would be there! What in the world was Dumbledore thinking? How could he have possibly agreed to this absurd decision? When Ron heard this, he wanted to scream and shout at all three of them! Harry was in enough pain already! Why put him through more torture?

Ron quickly snapped out of his mental enragement as he heard the rustling of sheets. Ron sighed. He knew who it was and where he was going. Every night after a nightmare, Harry would get up and leave. And this night was no different. Ron had wondered many times where he would wander off to, so a couple of times, he followed Harry. It was always the same place. The Quidditch pitch. Harry would lie down and watch the night sky. Ever so often, Harry ran the back of his hand across his face, obviously wiping his flowing tears. He stayed there for a couple of hours before heading back inside. As soon as he would get up, Ron fled back to the dorm. Harry always arrived about 20 minutes later, smelling of shampoo and soap. Ron never gave a second thought to that part of Harry’s routine.


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On the opposite side of Hogwarts, another boy was restless. He tossed and turned, tangling himself in the covers. He kicked at them ferociously with his feet until they were flung aside. Draco rolled onto his back, staring at the ceiling. He shook his head, trying to get the disturbing images out of his head. Why had this affected him so? Thoughts of Potter were ridiculous. He never cared what Potter had to say, or even what he did. So why was this different? Potter never meant anything to Draco except a sworn enemy. So why was this plaguing him?

Draco couldn’t bare these feelings anymore, so he put on his robe and left his dorm for a quiet walk. Maybe some fresh air would clear his head. As he silently walked along the empty corridors, he began to feel better already. His wandering led him straight to the Quidditch pitch. He stopped and looked up at the clear, night sky. How peaceful, a perfect place to relax. The moonlight was shining down brightly, lighting up the entire field. Draco softly sighed as he slowly strolled around, breathing in the moist air. Suddenly there was a crunch under his green slippers. He bent down to remove the sticky substance from the bottom of it, and held it up to look at it. It was a lemon drop.

There was no game today and Dumbledore was the only one who had these muggle candies. Draco was certain he wouldn\'t have been out here, so it must be someone that recently saw him, but who? It finally dawned on Draco. Potter. Potter was here. He quickly scanned the area and sure enough, there was an indentation in the grass. But just how long ago was he here? Draco immediately sprinted back inside, not pausing until he reached the showers. He heard one of the showers running. It had to be Potter. Something caught Draco’s eye on the ground and he gasped when he saw what it was. Blood. A stream of blood was coming out of the showers. Draco’s heart skipped a beat. He nervously peered around the corner and there was Harry, again with his back to him. A pool of blood surrounded his feet, and this time, Draco screamed.

“POTTER!”

Harry whipped around angrily and Draco saw the blood gushing out from his cock. Harry tossed the knife away and Draco shouted the only word his mind could process.

“NO!”

He threw himself at Harry, knocking both of them down, crashing to the blood-soaked tile floor.

“HAVE YOU GONE MAD? WHAT THE BLOODY HELL ARE YOU DOING? TRYING TO KILL YOURSELF? YOU SAID YOU WEREN’T SUICIDAL!”

There was that look in Harry’s eyes again. The look of hatred. Harry hissed at him and frantically rolled Draco on his back, thus pinning him securely down. Harry’s hands clasped around Draco\'s neck and squeezed with all his might. Draco could feel his pyjama bottoms becoming soaked with Harry’s blood, as his face was being drained of his. Draco tried to gasp for air but it was fruitless. Even through his cluttered mind, he knew Harry would soon pass out from the loss of blood. He felt Harry’s grip loosen, and instinctively, Draco clawed his fingers into Harry’s hands and incredibly had the strength to free himself. Harry slumped over and fell to the ground next to him with a thud. Draco sat upright and began coughing violently. Tears were streaming down his face and saliva leaked from his open mouth. His choking for air caused a chain reaction and vomit soon escaped from his stomach. All the while, he stared at Harry’s pale face and blue lips. But he was unable to move, caught up in his never-ending coughs.

“DRACO!”

He continued to cough.

“DRACO, WAKE UP!”

Vincent Crabbe began to shake Draco by his shoulders.

“DRACO! WAKE UP! PLEASE! It’s Vincent!”

Draco began to sputter. “Let go *cough* of *cough* me!”

Draco freed himself from Crabbe’s grasp and scooted back to his headboard.

“DON’T TOUCH ME! I WAS ONLY TRYING TO HELP!”

“Draco?”

Draco slumped forward and came back into reality. He shot his head up and his eyes darted around the room. He was still in the Slytherin dorm. He met Crabbe’s perplexed eyes, paused, and then ran into the bathroom and retched.


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