"And really I'm just so sleepy!" Hermione looked skeptical. "Are you sure? I mean you've hardly eaten anything the whole day." Ron stared.
" You sick or something?" Harry shook his head. " No no no not at all. I'd just like a little breathing room is all. Hermione pouted a bit.
"Are you saying you don't want us around anymore?" Harry laughed. "Of course not. Why you two act like such hens with me." Hermione sighed. "It's just- a lot has happened lately and-"
"Go on then. I'm sure you can stand dinner without me." Harry interrupted. Ron shrugged. "If you're sure." Hermione looked thoughtful for a minute and then followed him as he left for the Great Hall.
Harry sighed and slumped down onto his bed. Alone at last. He had been a bit sultry lately. And Hermione and Ron seemed to be constantly fussing over him. But really all he needed was an evening to himself.
All the things that had been happening recently were bothering him horribly. He was often tired and day dreamy and found himself staring out of windows in the afternoons.
And really there was a lot to be tired and day dreamy about. Danger seemed to be lurking in every corner. The fear and the darkness that had fallen, and the way that everything seemed to be coming apart. He worried about Dumbledore and Voldomort.
He worried about Hermione's pining after Ron, and Ginny and. . . Well there was Malfoy too. He was almost sure he had been the one behind those curses. But things weren't so clear as they used to be.
Well there was no use trying to get much sleep tonight. His brain was too muddled. As he lay on the bed his eye caught on a bright blue bottle on his moonlit windowsill. It certainly hadn't been there that morning or that afternoon.
Harry got up and went to the sill to examine it. Upon doing so he noticed that it was not the bottle that was blue but the bright, almost iridescent, liquid inside of it.
There was no label of any sort on it but Harry remembered something he had read in potions class a year or so back. This could be a simple sleeping draught. He wasn't quite sure but the color seemed to suggest something of the sort.
Quickly he set the bottle down and went to get his potions book. He found, after a few minutes, a half page dedicated to a potion that was described as looking just like the one he held. It was listed as being sleeping draught and as having a faint minty scent.
Harry opened the bottle and it did indeed smell like mint. He closed his book after making sure that the whole bottle had to be drunk and then stared at it holding it up to his window. Hermione must have left it for him.
No one else would have. It was just what he needed. After a few glances at the potion and a careful sip Harry drank until the bottle was empty and set it back down onto the windowsill. It hadn't tasted like much of anything, but he was starting to feel a bit drowsy.
Except another feeling was starting to swell in him too and it was something like nausea. He put his hand over his mouth and ran for the bathrooms. He was sure he might puke any minute and was so dazed he couldn't tell where he was going. "I won't make it," he thought with horror as his feet pounded through the hallways.
Suddenly he saw a dark blur of black and white and felt himself crash into something or someone. He toppled to the floor in a heap. Before he could get up he knew he was going to be sick right then and there. And he was.
Harry must have blacked out for a minute and when he opened his eyes all he could see were his shoes. "What the hell do you think you're doing, Potter?' Came a familiar and angry voice.
He looked up and saw Malfoy collapsed beside him, a small amount of puke lacing his robe. Harry turned bright red and giggled. Malfoy shoved him.
"Watch where you're going you disgusting twit," he hissed. "Look what you did to my robe!" Harry looked up at Malfoy from his place on the floor and smiled. "Stop grinning at me! What the hell is wrong with you?"
Malfoy looked disgustedly at the pool of puke by his feet. Harry couldn't help but keep looking up at him and beaming. His eyelids were heavy and he felt warm and content. "Want me to hex you, Potter?" Malfoy growled down at him.
He reached for his wand but Harry didn't move. "You're not even worth the trouble," He muttered turning to leave.
Harry stood up hurriedly and reached for Malfoy's hand. "Wait! Draco!" Malfoy spun around and snatched his hand away. "Don't touch me!" Harry blushed. "An- and don't call me Draco. Have you gone crazy or something?"
Malfoy gave Harry an angry and awkward glance before turning back and moving swiftly toward the Great Hall. Harry was left standing and staring at his hand thoughtfully. He felt flustered and light and full of some sort of fire. Just looking at Malfoy walk away was enough to send shivers up his spine.
He couldn't move for a minute but when he heard feet in the distance he knew he should clean up the mess he had made. Whatever had been in that sleeping draught hadn't agreed with him so much.