I don't own Harry Potter or anything, but this story is one of the few things I do own.
Okay when I started writing this, I didn't even know who I was writing about. I didn't know what character, or even what book or movie etc. As it developed I decided, and I think this story will turn out to be rather appealing. Please read it, I don't know if I'll continue or not, and your input would really help me continue, if you like it of course.
And this does contain OotP spoilers, so you've been warned. It also contains slash, but as of now I don't know what degree of slash it will be. Nothing over PG-13. And if you don't like slash, et cetera leave now, you know the drill. If you do, pull up a chair and enjoy. And don't forget to review, I basically live off those. And don't forget to read my other story, Past the Horizon, which is a Pirates of the Carribean fic. I put hours of work into it so far so please read it.
Well on with the story.
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Fumbling Dreams
by alanye
Do you want me? Are you allowed to want me? I look over at you and try to see what's going on inside your head, behind the brilliant eyes that make my legs melt whenever they look at me. A look of thoughtful confusion washes over the perfect features of your face. Each one is the perfect specimen. Until I met you I never knew that God's angels walked freely on this earth.
I come to the library every day pretending to work, just to catch sight of you. Every day you are there too, face buried in a book, intently reading and taking notes. These few hours in the library keep me from falling apart. Without this time, without you, what would be the point of going through each day, not having proof that beauty exists in this dark world?
Never have you noticed me, acknowledged my presence during these times. I know you know I'm there, and deep down inside I hope that you ignore me for the same reason that I ignore you. I'm afraid, afraid that you'll know the truth, afraid of what you would say if you knew. So many times while admiring every feature, every wrinkle, every inch of you I hope that deep down you do the same for me. I often drift away, into fantasy worlds that contain only us, and we are happy, for there is no evil and no pain. Only love, our love that shapes the world and our lives and everything. And every day you say you love me. Every day.
Today will be no different, I think as I leave my friends to "work on my Potions essay." I rush back to the dorms to get my things, just in case either of them come to check on me. Why would they do that anyway? Maybe I'm just paranoid.
I open the door to the library and slowly walk to the familiar table, the one with the perfect view of your favorite spot under the window. It is a cool winter morning and it must have snowed outside for there is a fresh untouched coating of snow on the ground that reflects the sun's light and makes the world feel like it's glowing. The same light filters through the window, illuminating the very seat that you so love to sit in.
I sometimes think that you sit there simply to taunt me. On a bright sunny day like today, the sun hits your hair and causes it to give off a spectacular white glow making you look more angelic than ever. But the same goes for a dark, desolate, cloudy day, where the rain hits the glass of the window and breaks into a million little droplets which form grey pools on the damp ground. This only accents your deep grey-blue eyes and causes them to sparkle with a light akin to the stars in heaven, lifting the depressing blanket of the storm.
I keep my head down as I enter, just in case you avert your attention to me. If my eyes met yours I don't know what I would do. I might have to simply run over, grab your hand, and tell you everything. This would ruin me, my existence, so I have to make sure this doesn't ever happen. I investigate the tiles that make up the library floor. They are worn down from extensive use and occasionally a corner is chipped away leaving a hole in its place. I make it to my seat without any disasters. I open my books and take out my quill. I hold it in my hand. If I was looking at myself through different eyes I would almost believe I was doing work.
For an hour or two I sit, writing about three sentences of my report. As I examine you, I notice something I didn't before. The little finger on your left hand seems to have developed a twitch, and it does so occasionally which causes the pain in your eyes to increase, and you look disparagingly at it, as if you was unable to believe such a monstrosity was part of your body, part of yourself. It angers me to see this look in your eyes, for I know that no matter what you look like you will still be perfect in every way. Nothing would ever change that.
I look at my watch. It reads six twenty-four. I said that I would be back by six thirty, so my time here is over. This saddens me every day, for I am always the one to leave first. Never do you beat me out of here. But never do you miss dinner, which starts at six forty-five. Maybe you wait for me to leave. Maybe you can't bear to miss a second with me, maybe you need to wait for me to leave because you wouldn't be able to handle meeting my eyes, for the same reason I can't meet yours. Or maybe you're just absorbed in your book.
I close my book, the sound breaking the pseudo-silence that I create by erasing the sounds of all other students and teachers from my mind, and only letting my ears hear what they want to hear: every sound that you make, every cough, every page turn. I gather the rest of my things and put them away. I slowly stand and push my chair back into its rightful place at the table. I let my eyes wander to you for one last look which will hopefully tide me over until the next chance I get to come back here.
Usually when I look back your eyes are dutifully scanning the pages of that book, which I envy for the attention that it gets from you. But this time, it's different. Everything is different this time. Your book is closed on the table, and your clear eyes are staring out over the table, past the chairs, and directly at me. I find myself facing the one thing I have always feared, but also secretly hoped for. And having your energy and thought focused on me is something that I will never forget. It is as if the whole world dissolved and we were transported into that simple world that I created for us.
But it was over almost before it began, by you nodding, as if to acknowledge my presence, and to tell me to leave, both at the same time. I do what your eyes tell me and slowly lower my head, turn around, and open the great door of the library. From there I cautiously close the door behind me, careful to make as little a sound as possible. I remove my hand from the door and let out a breath that I seem to have been holding since your gaze rested upon me.
From there I turn around and sprint down the hallway back to my room.
*****
Later that night after dinner I casually walk back to the common room with my two best friends at my side. Hermione gives me an inquisitive glance and I know that she suspects something. I admit that I acted rather quiet during dinner, only adding to conversations with an occasional nod of my head or a quick agreement with whatever was being said.
We continue to walk with the uncomfortable air of silence hovering over our heads. We reach the portrait hole, and only the whisper of the password breaks the silence. Once inside, I plop down onto the couch and close my eyes, ready to ponder the events of earlier today in silence that cannot be gained in the presence of the whole school. What could that mean, I wonder. Why did you choose to look at me? Why today of all days? Is it the first and last time? And you nodded, didn't you. Is nodding a form of acceptance? Were you accepting my presence or merely acknowledging that I was there? Do you know? Do you feel the same?
I was going to continue with these thoughts, but Hermione, always the curious one, breaks the silence and forces me to come back down to earth, back into the common room which is decorated with red and gold, lit with a soft warm fire that crackles and makes anyone in the room feel accepted.
"How's your Potions essay coming? You seem to be putting a lot of effort into it."
"It's fine."
"Can I read it? It's great to know that you finally are becoming interested in your schoolwork, I mean it's all that really matters here. I am very pleased to see-"
"Not now, it's not finished yet. Maybe later."
"Okay, if you're sure. Maybe I could help you finish it faster, see what your hard work has lead to so far."
"I said no. Not now. Leave me alone, I'm trying to think."
"Man, Harry, what's with you today? I mean you've hardly said two words to us all day. And look, you hurt Hermione's feelings! That's not like you, Harry."
I look over and see Hermione's downcast eyes staring at the floor. I hurt her I know, but she'll get over it.
"Lay off," is all I manage to say before turning over and facing the back of the couch, and at the same time burying my face in a pillow.
"Well if that's what you want," Ron says with more force than necessary. I roll my eyes in the couch. I hear the quiet footsteps that must be the two of them retreating to the other couch on the far side of the room. I hear hushed whispers and I know that they're talking about me. I can always tell. I can't take it. This isn't what friends are for. Why are they overreacting? On the one day that I have hope that my dreams could come true, they turn against me.
I stand up holding the pillow and toss it forcefully back onto the couch. My angry eyes scan the room and land on Ron and Hermione.
"I'm tired, I'm going to bed," I announce and walk towards the door to the boys dorm room.
"But its only nine thirty! Harry why-" but he is cut off my a sharp elbow from Hermione, and for a second the two share a knowing glance. The rest of the people in the room look entertained by the show we are putting on. I should tell them mind their own business. I continue to storm out, opening and closing the door, running up the stairs, and diving onto my bed and letting out a sigh of relief. The room it empty, and it always looks so different in the dark with no one talking or playing truth or dare or other games. This is the way I like it, the shadows playing against the walls like living creatures, demons of the night that only show their dark faces in the presence of one vulnerable student.
Finally I have real peace in which to think. The thoughts of you flow through my tired brain like a waterfall of pins piercing deep into my flesh. Do you want me? I have no way of telling. Making eye contact is hardly the same a showing want for someone. But everything has to start somewhere. I hope that this is the beginning and not the end. I need something to fill up my dreary life. This year has been going so slowly, and I have had not one pleasure. No more letters from Sirius. No more dangerous meetings in the fireplace. My friends have become distant, giving me pity, looking at me as a stray dog in search of a simple meal. Dog. Bad choice of words. I sigh.
The only person who hasn't changed towards me is you. Your taunts are the only thing that has stayed the same. You don't see me differently, and this is the kind of thing that I need. I need someone to realize that I'm the same person no matter what happens to the people I love. And I think I've found him. If only you could be more than this, if only you could be the one to comfort me when I need to forget about my past, the one to light up my day with a kiss. Whatever I do, I need to do something to at least attempt to bring you into my life as more than an enemy. I will, I tell myself, but this is nothing different from every day. In my heart I feel that today is actually different from all the other days I've thought the same thoughts, felt the same feelings, and wished the same wish. Now I only hope today is the last.
As I think, the pressing dark and shadows begins to have an affect on my wiped out body. I feel my eyes begin to close, and my breathing become deeper and slower. I allow my body to begin to drift off into sleep. At least in my dreams anything can happen. As I lose my grip of consciousness, the part of my mind still on earth hears the door open, and Ron enters the room looking slightly flushed. I wonder what he was doing down there. He quickly tiptoes over to his bed and closes the curtains.
With that motion I lose my connection with the material world and enter the dream world, where anything is possible and the unexpected is inevitable.
*****
The next days classes go by as uneventful as ever. We all had a laugh though in transfiguration when Neville accidently transfigured his sparrow into a drake instead of a garter snake, and it managed to knock over the table and swipe at McGonagall before she transfigured it back into a sparrow which chirped and fluttered over and landed on Neville's shoulder like a pet.
Bless the minor distractions that keep us from falling into the depression of the real world.
It is almost time for me to go to the library, and the deadline for the Potions essay is closing in, so I should probably get some actual work done today. I am gathering my books as usual and grabbing my quill when Hermione and Ron come over and stand right beside me.
"We were hoping that we could join you in the library today," says Hermione nervously. "As you know, the Potions essay is due this week, and I have to put the finishing touches on mine and Ron needs to.." I knew I had to let them come with me. What harm could it cause?
"Okay sure, you can come. I don't think you need to ask me if you want to go to the library anyway."
"Okay, you're right Harry. Thanks."
We leave the Gryffindor common room and make our way to the library. Once again I find myself opening the door, and I wonder what is in store for me today. As if it is an unspoken rule, I lower my eyes to the floor until I reach my normal spot, where I sit in my chair with Hermione to my right and Ron on her other side. They are distracted by fetching their parchment and quills and opening their books to the appropriate pages. I take this chance to risk a glance at you.
My eyes wander to the window, where the suns' rays shine through as usual, illuminating your chair. But the chair is empty. My heart begins to race and I realize how hot it is in the room. Where could you be? What happened? You have been here every day for the past month or so! Why aren't you here now? Something must have happened to you. I feel a tugging in my heart, and I know I have to go find you. I jump out of my chair and dash to the door, running into some first years who stare at me in shock. They are of no importance to me and I don't bother to apologize. The door closes in a rush and I choose to go left, hoping that this way will lead me to you.
"Oh Draco where have you gone?"
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Phew, that was draining. I don't usually write my chapters this long. If I continue this it's going to be a lot more work than I first thought. I did not know where I was going when I started this, but I think I like how it turned out. Please leave a review and tell me what you think. I love reviews, they make you want to write, and they give you inspiration even when you have nothing. I love writing but sometimes I forget that. Reviews help me remember. It means a lot to me. Thanks for reading the story.
