Draco's eyes snapped open and he stared emotionlessly at the ceiling above him. A cold sweat covered him and his satin pajamas stuck to his body. His normally platinum blond bangs were golden with sweat and he felt his hands shaking. Just another dream. Another horror. He shoved his blankets off the bed and sat up, rubbing his eyes. He could have called it a nightmare, but a nightmare is something you don't want to happen and no matter how much Draco hated it, he wished that it would. He stood, walking over to his adjoining bathroom and stripping his soaked clothes. He stared at his pale chest and arms, covered in bruises and cuts. Nothing above his collar bone was damaged though. Have to maintain an image. He turned, starting his shower. The water was ice cold and soothing on his skin. He closed his eyes and tilted his face up, letting the water rush over every inch of his body. Tears joined the water. Silent tears, emotionless, dead tears.
He left the shower, a black towel wrapped around his waist, his hair dripping. The emotionless feeling never left him, it was his comfort. He dressed in a new set of pajamas and made his bed, laying across the top covers and staring at the ceiling, one arm draped over his forehead. He sighed, wondering when these dreams would stop. The mindless insults to the one involved never seemed to settle the dreams, only rile them up. He rolled onto his side, staring out the large window at the moon.
"Potter, this is all your fault." He whispered, blinking once. Potter, Harry James Potter. He sighed once again, closing his eyes. He could very distinctly trace out the Gryffindor's features perfectly. He could see the emerald eyes staring at him. Draco enjoyed looking into those bright green eyes; green was his favorite color. He could imagine the tousled black hair, sticking up in all directions. "All his fault." He repeated quietly, curling in on himself. Still no emotions emerged in heart, body, or mind. Just emptiness filled him. He recalled the dream, though this time his eyes were open.
Small gasps escaped his lips and he felt his back hit the wall, lips traveling down his neck. Soft and intense, the feeling of the hands searching his body. His shirt didn't last long; it was ripped right down the front and shoved off his body, cold air sweeping across his skin as the boy's mouth made its way down his chest. Gentler on the bruises and cuts, but harsh on unscathed skin. He bit his lip, refusing to moan. He clutched his fists tightly, digging his fingers into his palms. Hands yanked on his pants and the button snapped, flying off in some unknown direction. He faintly wondered how he would explain his lack of clothing to his fellow Slytherin's, but the thought didn't linger. The mouth was next to his ear now, kissing and sucking at his neck between hisses of parseltongue. Draco couldn't understand the snake language, but it drove him nearly insane. An uncharacteristic moan escaped his body as wet lips met his body. The boy kept moving and Draco convulsed, refusing to lose himself in the sensation. He let go, feeling himself slide down the wall. Before he knew it, the warmth was gone. He stared after the dark haired figure, which snaked a glance over his shoulder.
"Malfoy." Was the only word the boy said, hissing once more before vanishing under his invisibility cloak. Draco redressed himself, still wondering about the button and made his way down to the dungeons.
Yes, Draco wished that it would happen. He had always wished that it would. He closed his eyes tightly and gripped his satin green pillow, shoving his face into it. His years at Hogwarts had been a waste of his time, except that he had met Potter. Now that they were over, he wasn't sure what to do.
Daylight washed the room and lit the Gryffindor's face. He blinked, squinting into the daylight and sat up, rubbing his eyes.