Warning: The second Author's Notes at the end contains important information for all readers involved in the Psych 101 class. If this does not interest you or interferes with your enjoyment of the fic, skive off!
AN: Thanks to gotsnape for her well placed words of wisdom.
Draco Malfoy finally surrendered, stopped wrestling with his sheets, and rolled out of bed, exhausted. He raked a tired hand though his platinum blond locks and stared out the window. The moon was still high in the sky. It was three days until the Gryffindor match, and he was goddamn tired of the intrusive nightmares robbing him of his sleep.
He threw on his robes, stormed out of his room and up to the Hospital Wing. He didn't give a damn if it was one o'clock in the morning or if Pomfrey cursed him for waking her. He needed a goddamn Dreamless Sleeping Potion or else someone was going to get killed in short order.
Draco stomped, albeit quietly, up to the Hospital Wing in search of sleep. He was sick and tired of the little Weasel screaming and falling and bleeding all over his bed every night. Cursing himself for ever stopping to save her miserable life, he rounded the next flight of stairs. Cursing her for being a goddamn Gryffindor pain in the ass, he finally finished off the fourth and final flight of stairs in his relentless pursuit of sleep.
He hauled his dragging ass into the corridor outside the hospital wing. Gone was the chaotic scene that greeted him upon his last visit. There were no students dripping and reeking and emitting sickly magical viruses everywhere. He sighed with relief and peeked quietly into the ward.
To his surprise, the torches were brightly lit. He pushed open the door and walked in. Madam Pomfrey stuck her head out from behind the closed curtains of an examination bed. "Sit down. Be right with you."
Draco sighed. It was one fucking o'clock in the morning, and he still had to wait in a goddamn line for a lousy sleeping potion. Fine, he thought, glancing around the otherwise empty ward. This little visit should take no more than a couple of minutes, and then he would be blissfully unconscious for the first time in days.
Eventually he heard the examination curtain rolling open. About goddamn time. Did she have the entire Gryffindor Quidditch Team in there, for Merlin's sake? He looked up and saw Madam Pomfrey shuffling out toward him, followed by only one member of the Gryffindor Quidditch Team. There she stood, his Nightmare of red silk and freckles, in the flesh.
Draco groaned. Was there no bloody relief from this Gryffindor hell? Had she taken to stalking him during his nighttime waking hours as well, just to complete the whole fucking cycle? If this was some twisted Gryffindor strategy to win the game on Saturday, he had to say it was fairly effective and thus, too remarkably Slytherin-like for those plebians of nobility to have conceived.
"Mr. Malfoy, what can I do for you?" Madam Pomfrey asked, after she had him ensconced behind the examination curtain.
"I need a Dreamless Sleeping Potion - " he began before she cut him off mid-sentence.
"Sorry, you'll have to come back tomorrow." Draco's eyes flew wide open at this complete and total betrayal of any Hippocratic oath she had ever uttered. "With all the magical viruses we've had running around lately, I'm afraid I'm completely out of most of my commonly used potions."
He looked at her, desperate.
"This is an emergency! I haven't slept for days." She stared the outraged Slytherin down.
"Mr. Malfoy, insomnia is not an emergency. It is merely inconvenient. You may return tomorrow." Then she dismissed him. He slunk off the examination bed and sullenly walked toward the door.
"Mr. Malfoy!" He turned around.
"Would you walk Miss Weasley back to the Gryffindor Common Room for me? I need to get down to Professor Snape's private stockroom to resupply before tomorrow's clinic."
Normally, he would have snapped at the Witch for even suggesting he abuse his Head Boy privileges by looking at that horror of a muggle-loving Gryffindor much less escorting her home, but he needed that potion. He nodded.
The Nightmare was sitting on a chair in the ward, waiting.
"Come on, Weasley" he growled. The Nightmare looked up at him but didn't move. "Look, Madam Pomfrey wants me to walk you back to the Gryffindor Common Room so she can go down to the dungeons and nick a few potions."
The Nightmare looked over at Madam Pomfrey, who apparently affirmed this fact, and only then did the Weaselette get off her ass and start to follow him.
Draco stormed up the four flights of stairs to the Gryffindor Common Room, not bothering to wait for the Nightmare, who was running after him to keep pace. He was standing in front of the Portrait of The Fat Lady cursing, when the Nightmare finally decided to show up. She watched him yelling at various adjacent portraits for several minutes before the Slytherin finally quieted down.
The goddamn Fat Lady was gone; that sadistic excuse for a School Nurse was off nicking Snape's potions in the dungeons; and he was stuck outside the goddamn Gryffindor Common Room with his now waking Nightmare. With no viable alternative left, Draco Malfoy began banging his head on the wall outside the Common Room.
"Banging your head won't help, Malfoy." He glanced over and shot the Nightmare an icy glare. She shrugged. "It's fine. I'll just wait here. Thanks."
Who the hell knew where that damn portrait was off to, romping around the castle in the middle of the night? Draco looked at the empty portrait and then back at the Nightmare before sighing deeply. He knew it was the wrong thing to do. He knew he would regret it. He knew every contact he had ever had with her had led to hell and more hell, yet he inexplicably plunged in anyway.
"Come on, Weasley," he said. She shook her head.
"I'd rather wait here than in the hospital corridor." He let out an exasperated snort.
"I'm not going to leave you in any goddamn corridor, Weasley." He said stiffly. "Come on, I'll take you to my room." Then he saw the look on her face and shook his head. "To sleep Weasley. Come on."
She hesitated, staring at him suspiciously.
"Let's go," he snapped at her, shaking her out of her indecision. "I've got to get some goddamn sleep, Weasley. I'm in no mood for baby-sitting you tonight."
The tall, irritated, sleep-deprived Slytherin turned and strode down the long set of winding, ever changing staircases in his continued pursuit of that elusive unconscious state called sleep. He stopped mid-staircase and glared at her. She quickened her pace and was soon right behind him, matching him staircase for staircase until, eight staircases later, they both hit the dungeon floor.
Two mumbled passwords later they were standing in his darkened bedroom, the dying fireplace and slivers of moonlight the only sources of weak light. He threw off his robes in short order and noticed her staring at him, now clad only in a loose pair of pajama bottoms, then followed her eyes to the lone bed in the room. He let out a groan and then a weary sigh.
"Look Weasley, I'm going to sleep. This is my bed and my room. I'm not sleeping on the floor. There's plenty of room in here for both of us." Then a weak smirk fell across his face. "I'm honestly too tired to try anything, even if I wanted to, which I do not."
With that little speech out of the way, he crawled into his half of the bed, facing away from her, laid his aching head on his pillow, and pulled up his bedcovers. Some minutes later, he heard the rustling of robes and much to his surprise, felt the Nightmare crawl into bed beside him.
And so the Slytherin wizard and the Gryffindor witch, each on their half of the bed, back-to-back, with no body parts touching, listened to the other breathing until a blissfully dreamless sleep took them both.
The next morning when Draco's eyes reluctantly blinked open, he was aware of waking up remarkably relaxed for the first time in weeks. Oddly, he was also surrounded by a sea of red silk, smelling vaguely of honeysuckle. Then it dawned on him that he was trapped by a rather interesting package of red silk and freckles. The Weaslette was draped across his chest, left arm thrown carelessly across, cheek tucked nicely into his shoulder, legs intertwined with his. He looked down at the very witch who had been making his life a living hell, taking a minute or two to decide on the best course of action. Then he threw his arms around her, turned a bit, and went back to sleep.
Author's Notes: I think you've learned enough that you can capably take it from here. There will be no more psych classes as you have unwittingly just graduated. Congratulations. Sleep Disorders 101 has been postponed. I hope you've enjoyed this odd little post chapter ride as much as I have.