He lays in bed awake at night tossing and turning. Whenever he is close to drifting off to sleep a memory crashes down on him and wakes him up again. When he was 16 and 17 the faces of monsters would keep him awake, red eyes and slits for a nose, the chilling voice echoing in his mind. The face of a crazed werewolf, always hungry for his next meal, the snarling growled words and knashing of yellow razor sharp teeth chasing away his sleep.
Now it's a different monster that keeps him awake, a different kind of nightmare. He thinks it might be worse than the others and he would rather have them back instead, but they just don't frighten him quite like they used to. He knows those monsters are dead and gone, they can't hurt him ever again.
The face that keeps him awake now was once a friendly one. Someone he trusted. Someone who he thought he was in love with. He was a fool, he was 18 and dealt with more in his short life than a 150 year old wizard had. He wasn't ready for love. It wasn't love anyways.
He can still feel his hands on him. His mouth on him. He can still hear the words whispered into his ears, pressed into his neck with deceivingly sweet kisses. He thought it was love. He told him it was love.
He remembers his hands holding him down. Not letting him move away, not listening to his please for him to stop. His sweet gentle kisses growing hard and demanding. His once soft and kind voice telling him it was okay, that everything was fine. That this is what lovers do. He can still feel him forcing his way inside of him. Hear his grunts and pants and his voice telling him he was doing so good.
He remembers after when he told him he loved him again and he cried. He just did that, yet he is the one crying. It went on for almost a year after that. Him saying no but not being listening to. He doesn't understand why he didn't just leave. That's just another thing that keeps him up at night.
Now there are more men's faces to fear, his was only the first. Years went by and more men came and went. He used his body to take control. He always initiated it, even though he never wanted it, because he knew if he didn't they would just force him. He knows now that isn't true. It's just another thing that keeps him up at night.
He had a reputation back then. Slut, easy, slag, whore. Nobody was forcing him, he was always the one in control, or so he thought. He knows better now. He was never in control.
He buried it all deep inside of him. He became colder than ever. He let them have his body, but never his heart. When they got too close he pushed them away. They only really wanted him for one thing anyway. That wasn't always true either.
Years and years went by in the same way. Until fate stepped in and so did the other man. The man from his past who was once just a boy. A boy the same as him, forced into a role he wasn't ready for. He was a man he could show a little bit of his heart to. A man he trusted because he said he loved him without ever having to touch him.
Another year past and he realized he had given this man his heart and not his body. That this man never made him feel like he had to give it to him. That this man was who he loved and who loved him back. He was patient and understanding and helped him to trust again. Now he knows what love is. This is what it is meant to be loved.
And as Harry crawls into bed and wraps his arms around him, Draco doesn't tense up or try to move away. He melts into the embrace because he can trust him and he loves him. And though Harry isn't able to chase away all of Draco's nightmares, he makes them a little easier to bear.