@drarrymicrofic | prompt: dream | wc: 500 | rated: mild m
The dreams had begun years earlier. Sometimes lurid, all sweat-slicked skin and desperate moans. Sometimes sweet, hands clasped on datesâone time they went to the zoo. Sometimes a litany of nightmares: the tower. The bathroom. âI canât be sure.â
The strange thing was, he always dreamt through Harryâs eyes. His own face, lust-blown pupils and pink cheeks; Harryâs thumping heart. Feeling a leap of hope in Harryâs throat as saw himself bite his lip, eyes shining down at a ring as he nodded. The same nightmares, tempered by Harryâs sympathy, regret, pride.
The dreams were an unconscionably cruel move by his subconscious. His mind healer suggested a dream diary; he stopped after a year. It hurt too much, seeing what he could never have, feeling things he knew Harry would never feel. He didnât need a book about it.
A knock distracted Draco from his calculations; he scowled as Harry strolled in.
âDo the Unspeakables need a potion?â
âIf they did, I donât know why Iâd know,â Harry said, grinning. Draco rolled his eyes. Less subtlety than an erumpent in a dollhouse.
âWhy are you here, then?â
âFor you,â Harry said, then flushed.
Draco stared, heart racing. He didnât let himself speak.
âRight,â Harry said. âWhat do you know about dreams?â
Draco swallowed, refusing to remember the previous nightâs dream: Draco in Harryâs body, licking his own scars with a lascivious groan, whispering into his own ear, with Harryâs voice, how he wanted toâhe shook himself.
âDo I look like a dream expert?â
âNo. But Hermione is. And I was doing some researchââDraco scoffedââand she. Well. She found out. When I explained, she gave me a book.â
Draco leant back, arms behind his head. âAnd you need me to read it to you?â
âNo, you tosser, I managed.â Harryâs smile faded. âBut ⌠I think you should read it too.â
Draco frowned, heartbeat thudding in his throat. âItâs about dreams.âÂ
âYeah. And ⌠other stuff. Anyway, I justâhere. Iâll need it back, Hermioneâd flay me alive if IâIâll go.â
Looking far more cowardly than any Gryffindor should, Harry shoved the book across Dracoâs desk and fled. Draco tugged it closer.
A Short Treatise with Various Observations and Theories on the Metaphysicks of Soul-Bonds and Certain Peculiarities of Shared Dreams
Draco stared, mouth dry, before noticing the scrap of parchment tucked inside.
Dracoâ
If Iâm wrong, this might be the creepiest gift youâve ever received. I hope Iâm right. Can we talk? Tonight, 7pm, my place.
âHarry
Draco sat, hands shaking, and opened the book to the first page.
At 6:59, Draco stood, book in hand, at Harryâs door. He took a breath and lifted his fist to knock.
Harry opened the door, rumpled and beautiful. He looked hopeful. He looked frightened.
âTheyâre your dreams?â Draco blurted. âIâtheyâre your dreams.â
Harry smiled and reached out. His fingers threaded through Dracoâs like on the trip to the zoo they hadnât yet taken. âTheyâre our dreams, Draco.â