#because barty's a magical creatures kind of guy and honestly everybody needs a pair of dragon pajama pants

[carewyncromwell]

“When the cold of winter comes, Starless night will cover day... In the veiling of the sun, We will walk in bitter rain. But in dreams, (But in dreams) I can hear your name, And in dreams, (And in dreams) We will meet again...”

~“In Dreams (cover) by Peter Hollens

x~x~x~x

Atticus Lestrange @cursebreakerfarrier​ and Robert Bellamy were confident the night before their presentation for History of Magic. The two had spent a good two hours at the Three Broomsticks organizing everything -- not only did they keep finding helpful information to add to their presentation in the books Madame Pince provided, but they also couldn’t help but keep taking light, amiable jabs at both the material and each other the entire time. Atticus honestly couldn’t remember the last time he’d had so much fun doing homework, aside from perhaps the essay he’d done earlier that year for Professor Lupin on banshees. Lupin had actually gone so far as to say Atticus would make a fine Defense Against the Dark Arts professor himself someday, which made Atticus feel very proud indeed.

The night before the fifth year class’s History of Magic presentations also happened to be Halloween, so Atticus allowed himself to indulge in a few more sweets than he might have otherwise. His father always tried to curtail his sweet tooth whenever possible, but it was a little harder for him to do that at school, and after how good of a weekend he’d had, Atticus couldn’t resist spoiling himself a little. He noticed Robert and Cecelia Crouch sitting with Barty Gilbert over at the neighboring Gryffindor table instead of their own tables -- Barty was gesturing animatedly as he spoke, but his voice was too soft for him to tell what the three were talking about. Atticus did, however, briefly meet Robert’s eye, and the curly-haired Chaser smirked and gave him a short, offhand wave. Atticus gave a weak wave in return: as soon as Cecelia and Barty turned around, though, Atticus found himself averting his eyes again, unable to look at Robert’s best friend. He felt a little guilty thinking about how Barty had apparently worried he might be lonely...but that, strangely, also made him feel rather sour. Barty Gilbert was the only son of a wealthy Pureblood family -- he would know full well what Atticus’s life was like, if he actually bothered to care about his family’s expectations of him...if his parents didn’t spoil him and let him do whatever he wanted...

As fate would have it, however, that Halloween night -- October 31, 1993 -- did not go the way any student or teacher at Hogwarts had thought...all because of the escaped convict, Sirius Black.

The boys of the Ravenclaw fifth-year dorm were abruptly woken up by their Head of House, Professor Flitwick, who informed them that everyone would be heading down to the Great Hall immediately. Atticus noticed Robert dawdle slightly behind the others -- the Chaser had had to pull on an old, slightly-too-small white undershirt with some holes around the neck, since he generally only wore pajama pants to bed.

When the Ravenclaws all arrived in the Great Hall, they found everyone else from the remaining dorms there too, and the news soon spread -- Sirius Black had actually made it inside the castle and had attacked the portrait guarding Gryffindor Tower trying to get inside. While the teachers searched the school and grounds, the students would remain in the Great Hall and sleep in comfy purple sleeping bags on the floor.

Atticus had never been a very good sleeper -- he’d had insomnia since before he arrived at Hogwarts, but the stressors at school only seemed to make it worse. This was why he noticed right away when -- after the teachers were out of earshot and view -- Barty and Cecelia crept past his sleeping bag, toward the open doors of the entrance hall.

“And where do you think you two are going?” said Atticus very coolly under his breath without getting up.

Part of Atticus cynically thought they might be sneaking out for some sort of late-night tryst...but Cecelia was Hufflepuff Prefect, so Atticus thought, she really should know better, especially with a wanted criminal loose somewhere in the school.

Both Barty and Cecelia gave a start. Upon realizing who had spoken, however, their faces suddenly became much more serious.

“Atticus,” said Barty, his soft voice oddly urgent, “have you seen Robert? Did he come down to the Hall, with you?”

Atticus blinked, taken aback. “Yes -- that is, he did come down with us...”

He looked around. Sure enough, he didn’t see Robert anywhere in the Great Hall.

Despite himself, Atticus felt concern prickling at the inside of his chest. It must’ve shown on his face, since Cecelia said anxiously,

“Will you help us look for him? I mean, you’re a Prefect too...if we get caught out of bed, you can help me vouch for Barty and Robert...”

In that moment Atticus couldn’t think of anything he wanted to do less than cover up for Barty Gilbert breaking the rules and putting himself and others in danger...but at the same time, he was only doing it because he was worried about his best friend. And Atticus had to admit, with Sirius Black on the loose, he was a bit worried about Robert being out there, too.

Barty wasn’t about to wait around for Atticus’s answer -- the taller boy had already darted across the rest of the Hall toward the double doors, determined to find Robert. Exchanging a look with Cecelia, Atticus exhaled heavily and nodded, shuffling quickly out of his sleeping bag and putting his muted blue slippers back on so that he could follow Cecelia after Barty.

Barty barrelled down the hallway, overtaking the other two with his much longer strides. It took Atticus at one point dashing forward and grabbing the back of Barty’s gray Weird Sisters T-shirt to pull him behind a column, just to keep a patrolling Professor Sinistra from seeing him.

“You’re going to get all three of us caught, if you do that,” hissed Atticus.

Barty shot a guilty look over his shoulder at Atticus. “Sorry...guess I’m just a little tense...”

Cecelia caught up with them, bringing a hand on the back of each of their shoulders.

“Any ideas of where he might have gone?” she whispered, her hazel eyes full of concern.

Atticus contemplated the matter. “...Maybe he went back up to our dorm. The shirt he threw on did look a bit too small...he could’ve wanted to go get his robe...”

“He wouldn’t have a robe that fits either,” said Cecelia with a shake of her head. “Rob outgrew a lot of his clothes over the summer -- he’s just too stubborn and proud to let either of us buy him larger robes and such. I reckon it’s only because the school pays for everyone’s Quidditch robes that Rob’s Chaser robes still fit...”

Atticus blinked in surprise. “...So that’s why he’s always wearing his Quidditch robes, instead of his usual school robes?”

Noticing Atticus’s expression, Barty actually fixed him with an unusually sharp look. “Rob isn’t the sort to want pity -- and I hope you’ll agree that he also doesn’t deserve any condescension.”

Atticus’s eyes narrowed. “I would never condescend to him for that! I merely...never considered that his family was that bad-off, is all...”

Robert’s rather disheveled appearance did make a lot more sense, though.

Barty’s expression softened visibly at Atticus’s reassurance, instantly becoming much more patient again. He peeked around the statue, watching as Sinistra talked to Professor Sprout.

“I wish I’d thought to bring my Cloak,” he muttered under his breath to Cecelia.

Atticus frowned deeply. “Your Cloak?”

Cecelia shook her head dismissively. “How do you get up to Ravenclaw Tower from here, Atticus? Maybe Rob still headed up that way, even if it wasn’t for a robe...”

Still frowning, Atticus nonetheless pointed. “Up the grand staircase, to the left. It’s not very far from Gryffindor Tower actually, if I’m not mistaken...it’s by the Prefect’s Bathroom.”

“That is close,” said Barty.

Cecelia peeked around the statue and gave the two boys a very pretty, broad smile. “Brilliant, they’ve moved on. Let’s go.”

It didn’t take long for the three to find Robert, fortunately. Ravenclaw’s Star Chaser hadn’t gone all the way back up to Ravenclaw Tower -- instead he’d merely snatched up his sleeping bag and stowed it underneath one of the smaller staircases on the second floor so he could sit on it by himself in the dark. He was very surprised to see that Cecelia, Barty, and Atticus had come after him, and not exactly happily so.

“I’m all right, Barty,” said Robert lowly. “You don’t have to worry about me.”

“Of course I do!” said Barty. His quiet, charming voice was oddly hard as he towered over his best friend sitting cross-legged on the floor. “Rob, that madman Black ended up just outside my dormitory not too long ago -- sure, I never saw him myself, but he’s still out there somewhere! You think I could’ve lived with myself, if he hurt you?”

“I think I can more than take out a man without a wand,” Robert said coolly. “Reckon Black wouldn’t be expecting anyone to try punching him straight in the mug.”

“That’s not funny, Robert!” said Cecelia, looking very upset.

Barty looked almost more upset, to the point that it was bordering on anger.

“Rob, you know the dreams I’ve had!” he said lowly under his breath. “You know how scared they’ve always made me -- for you to disappear without a word, when you know that -- you have to know that hurts me!”

Atticus glanced at Barty out the side of his eye, confused. Dreams?

Robert suddenly looked very guilty. His dark eyes had fallen to the floor.

“...Barty, I...”

He swallowed.

“...I’m sorry,” he murmured. “I -- I wasn’t trying to disappear. I just...needed to be alone. That’s all.”

Atticus fixed Robert with a very reproachful look. “Under the circumstances, I’d say that’s the last thing you need.”

Robert looked at Atticus as his dormmate bent down to get down on his level.

"Black is dangerous,” said Atticus. “I realize rules have never been sacred to you, Bellamy, but you’re not invincible. I cannot believe you’re really dumb enough to think you could handle Black single-handed -- you’re no show-off Gryffindor -- ”

Barty raised his eyebrows.

“Excuse me,” Atticus muttered, before moving on. “I just mean that you better have a good reason, to want to hide away from everyone else.”

Robert’s dark eyes on Atticus’s were narrowed, but not angry. He looped his arms around one of his knees absently, interlacing the fingers.

“...I just didn’t want to disrupt anyone else sleeping,” he muttered uncomfortably. 

Atticus raised his eyebrows. “Why would you think you’d do that?”

“I can’t cast Muffliato on fat air. It works on bed curtains and walls, but if I’m in a sleeping bag in a wide open room, I don’t have anything I can cast it on. I figured I could at least use it on the bottom of the stairs, sleeping under here.”

Cecelia suddenly looked shocked and dismayed as she bent down on her knees next to Robert. “Rob, have your nightmares come back? Is that what this is about?”

Robert avoided her gaze. Atticus looked from Robert to Cecelia, his eyebrows furrowing.

“Nightmares,” he murmured. “You mean like the kind you used to have in first year, when you claimed you were homesick?”

Robert kept his eyes locked on the floor. He clearly did not want to be having this conversation.

Barty, however, looked from Atticus to Robert and got down on his own knees, wrapping his arms around his friends’ shoulders.

“We’ve...always had weird dreams -- all three of us,” the tall Gryffindor admitted softly. "Sometimes they’re bad, but most of the time, they just don’t make sense. And sometimes, when we meet or interact with certain people...with each other...the dreams become clearer.”

Atticus felt a chill run down his spine. The description sounded scarily familiar. His own dreams where he woke up sobbing in the middle of the night -- that bizarre feeling of deja vu that he experienced around Barty and Robert -- sank their claws into his brain.

“Cecelia thinks that they might be some kind of premonition,” said Barty. “She’s got some Seer blood in her family. But my family doesn’t have any, and Rob’s family obviously doesn’t either. And...well, again, the dreams are weird. We’re often older in our dreams, but the scenarios we’re in don’t make any sense...and even if some people and places appear the same, something’s always off about them. And that’s not even counting the dreams where nothing’s clear at all and you don’t remember any details, except how it made you feel...”

Atticus's face had lost most of its color.

“You’ve...all had these dreams?” he whispered.

His blue eyes darted from Barty to Cecelia to Robert. Robert once again avoided Atticus’s eye.

“Do you...see anyone else in them, besides just each other?” Atticus couldn’t help but ask. His heart felt like it was stuck in his throat.

Barty glanced at Robert, whose shoulders had tensed visibly. He squeezed his best friend’s shoulder in an attempt to show support.

“...Sometimes,” said Barty lowly.

“Who?” Atticus asked, his voice a little more insistent than he’d intended.

Atticus didn’t even realize that his hands were shaking until Cecelia reached out to rest a comforting hand on top of them.

“Atticus,” said Cecelia, her eyebrows knitting together over her eyes in concern, “...have you...had strange dreams too?”

Robert looked up for the first time in minutes, his dark eyes flying up to Atticus’s face and searching his expression. Atticus felt himself swallowing back a lump in his throat -- he couldn’t hold eye contact with Robert too long, and soon his gaze fell down to Robert’s purple sleeping bag.

“...Yes,” he said at last, very softly. “They’re...not that clear, most of the time. I forget most of the details when I wake up...but I remember the feelings. And...when I’m awake, I remember pieces of them again, sometimes, in random situations. Sometimes people seem familiar, or something about them seems familiar...even when we don’t even know each other at all. Sometimes they’ll seem so familiar, and yet one little thing will just be...wrong, somehow...and I can hardly explain why.”

Both Barty and Cecelia looked at Robert. Robert squeezed his knee a bit closer to his chest, his dark eyes locked on Atticus’s face and rippling deeply. He was clearly thinking hard.

“...Have you seen us?” Robert murmured. “In your dreams?”

Atticus winced. He couldn’t look at Barty, so he kept his eyes downcast.

“...I’ve seen Gilbert,” he muttered. “At least, I think so -- it looks a lot like him.”

Barty looked taken aback. “You’ve seen me?”

He shot Robert another covert look.

“...That’s weird,” he murmured.

"I’d say this whole situation could be considered a touch weird, Barty,” said Cecelia a light, but crisp voice that seemed to put an end to the current line of conversation.

She too shot another quick look at Robert before looking around at all of them.

“It’s getting late. We should try to get some sleep...especially with our presentations for Binns due later today.”

Although his brain was still whirling so fast he doubted that he’d be able to sleep a wink, Atticus nonetheless nodded.

“...Yes...we should be at our best.” He tried to offer Robert a smile. “...We are supposed to be Professors Lestrange and Bellamy, in about nine hours.”

Robert despite himself couldn’t help but smile. “...Right.”

“‘Professor Bellamy?’” repeated Cecelia, and her hazel eyes sparkled in delight. “Oh, I’d love to see that -- you’d look awfully handsome in a pair of spectacles, Robert.”

“Maybe I’ll try to borrow Percy Weasley’s,” joked Robert.

Neither Barty nor Atticus could bite back a laugh.

“Rob, lay off,” said Barty in soft amusement. “Just because Percy’s Head Boy doesn’t mean you have to tease him...”

“No, but it does put a lovely target on his back,” said Robert rather cheekily. “Or rather, on his lapel.”

Atticus shook his head, even while grinning from ear to ear. “I take back everything I said before -- you’d make a horrible professor.”

Robert laughed loudly as Atticus used the Geminio charm to duplicate Robert’s sleeping bag three times, so that all four of them could settle themselves down under the staircase together. Once all of them got tucked in, Robert used the Muffliato Charm on the stairs so that any sounds they might made were deadened, and soon they all fell asleep. Even Atticus, tucked into the corner closest to Robert, found himself nodding off.

Amazingly, although Robert had suffered from nightmares constantly for almost five years, he ended up sleeping peacefully until after daybreak. Even more amazingly, Atticus -- who never slept well -- woke up feeling more refreshed than he had in a long time...all thanks to a dream he only half-remembered upon waking up that included a soothing male singing voice and a pair of oddly gentle scarlet eyes watching over him.