Excuse the unrealistic fights between teenagers.

Warning: Several forms of Abuse; Volatile Language; Gore; Explicit Sexual Scenes; Tragedy.

Ch. 1 Return of the Realization.

The morning that it returned, Draco had woken up in a bit of a daze, as per usual. He had escaped his house before dawn, sat in the astronomy tower and breathed in as he let it out. Then he began the usual routine. He picked up the bottle of Moscato d'Asti, and steadily began to swallow. When he got halfway through, he put it away, and then picked up the Firewhiskey, Belvedere vodka, and the vintage Rum that he didn't read the name of, but knew he liked because it was pineapple. He then proceeded to shrink them and cast a Disillusionment Charm on them so that when and if someone happened to see them, they would look like they were vials filled with lizard intestines.

After going about his morning routine so resolutely, Draco walked clearheaded through the events of the day. He was more sure that he was unsure of what would happen after he went through his morning routine than what would happen during. It was something he had never failed to do since the day he had started it. He went through the day as normally as he could have for himself, and was relieved when he passed into lunch without a hit.

By this time, the Belvedere had gone, along with half the bottle of pineapple Rum. Draco flicked his wand at himself as he walked down the corridor, a fresh feeling coming over him before he joined the mass of students crowding into the Great Hall. He sat in his usual seat, and automatically his cup filled itself. Now, Draco was not fool enough to drink so blatantly. He knew that other people would be able so smell it on his breath, and he would not be caught red handed if by some ungodly phenomenon he spilled any.

No, Draco thought himself through. Even though this had been a need in the beginning, it was a choice now- or was it the reverse? Whatever the road, Draco made sure that by the end, there would be no consequence. So, he drank water. Whether it was alcoholic or not, Draco had a great thirst. He would always have to use the bathroom after every meal because of it. The blonde drank more than he ate, which would have been unhealthy, if not for the fact that he did eat a regular amount of food.

Blaise Zabini took a seat down in front of him, but he paid no mind to him. Well, they didn't pay mind to one another unless they were in a spat. Usually, Draco half arsed those because he really didn't care about why the other boy was mad. That, and the fact that drinking made him apathetic to everything except his drinking. Draco snorted into his water. Blaise turned from his conversation and glared at him.

"Something funny?"

"What- No," the blonde answered automatically, because he hadn't even been logged into human interaction. As usual, he was in his own little world. A sharp pang past through his chest as he swallowed another gulp of water. Draco gently placed the cup down and scowled at it. It was at that point that the realization returned. He had a hard time swallowing, and his brows furrowed. Something was going to happen... Something to do with his cup... No, not necessarily. Draco had learned long ago that he should never read the realizations directly. No, it was about his drinking. With a sinking feeling, he knew that it would end soon. His scowl deepened as he internally denied it. He could and would continue to drink if he pleased. It wasn't going to get him this time.

Blaise studied Malfoy's face for a while as he scowled at his cup. He scoffed internally. Maybe the little ponce was trying not to wretch up his food before he made it to the bathroom. The whole school was convinced that Malfoy was an anorexic as of late. There was no other way they could explain his trips to the bathroom after every meal. And underneath his clothes, he looked particularly small, though some would say they were just too large. People had whispered about it for quite some time, and were still whispering about it. Even though people didn't worry about his social status, or his world status, Malfoy was the hottest thing on the market, right next to Potter himself.

He was tall and lean and beautiful. Malfoy had almost porcelain skin, stormy gray eyes, and a 'cool guy' attitude. He wore his long hair in a braid over his shoulder, with a few strands hanging gracefully over his face. He had a grace that couldn't compare to anyone else's. To put a little mystery into him, he wore a single feather earring, which said to have been given to him by his father. To make that mystery a little larger, there was no clue as to where his parents were. No one had seen them since the war. There had been many rumors circulating, ranging from the Malfoy's going to France and leaving their son behind, to Malfoy having killed them with his own two hands.

Blaise didn't really care, but he liked to hang on to the belief that the blonde had killed them himself. What better way to confirm that he was a murderer?

"You didn't wish me a happy birthday," the dark skinned man said, frowning almost mockingly at the other. Draco looked up from his almost finished plate of food, reached for a second helping of stake and shrugged.

"Aren't you going to wish me one now," Zabini asked irritatedly after a few minutes. The blonde's plate was just about clear when he looked up again.

"No," he said nonchalantly before he picked up his goblet once more and drank it's contents. By now, most of the Slytherin table was watching. The two had had altercations for the duration of the year. In fact, they had them more often than Draco had with Potter. Their fights were none, evidently, and Draco wanted to keep it that way.

"You don't even want me to wish you one."

"Now I do," Zabini said politely, eyes narrowing in challenge. Draco snorted.

" Make up your fucking mind, Zabini. You're acting like a bitch," he said, before standing up and calmly taking his leave.

The collective gasp of the Slytherin table had everyone turning their heads, including Harry. There was always an altercation in that house, namely between Malfoy and Zabini, but he never really paid them any mind. He was here for his last year, like the rest, and he wouldn't be put off because they were fighting. There was something new about this, however. The fight between the two usually took place during class or in between. They had never made a spectacle of themselves during lunch.

They watched as Malfoy got up from his seat and made it part way down the hall before Zabini got up to follow him. Zabini put his hand on the blonde's shoulder and spun him around. The blonde didn't seem to be taking what he said seriously before he smirked and turned away, leaving the Great Hall without another word. Zabini's back tensed as he watched and then followed him out.

"Wonder what they're on about now," Neville said, squinting at the doors.

"I don't," Hermione said, "Whatever their differences, they'll work it out."

"An' hopefully Malfoy'll be on the receiving end," Ron said from behind his mashed potatoes. Harry glanced unbiasedly at Ron before looking back at the doors. He had a bad feeling... Hermione looked disgustedly at Ron before hitting him in the back of the head.

"Ouch! What was that for," he whinged. Hermione glared harder at him, crossing her arms and sitting up straighter. Even if they had been dating, that didn't stop her from be an enforcer of good will and the rules.

"That was for-"

Her sentence had been interrupted by a very loud, very disturbing sound outside of the great hall. There was a moment of silence, in which Harry turned to the others, and a moment of recognition passed between them. They were the first to sprint out of the Great Hall, followed by the rest of the teeming Hall.

Behind them all, Professor McGonagall was shouting, "Go immediately to your common rooms! None of you is to be seen wandering the halls until your next class!"

Harry doubted anyone would be paying attention to her. He ran down the corridor listening carefully. It wasn't hard to figure out where the sound had come from, because there was a steady stream of curses coming down one corridor. The Golden Trio ran down after it.

"What the bloody fuck have you done! Let me out of here you lily arsed son of a bitch!"

"Why Blaise... I didn't know you liked my arse enough to know what it looked like," Malfoy said, though there was no color to his voice. He sat beneath a whole in the wall big enough to fit three+ people in it comfortably. Not far from him, Zabini was trapped. Or at least- he seemedto be. There was an invisible barrier that he was struggling to get through. The look of fury on the swallow skinned young man's face was something they had never seen before. That really wasn't saying much, seeing as they didn't see much of him anyway. The corridor began to crowd with students and teachers alike. Harry began to realize that he had one of the first to run out, but had yet to take any action.

"Malfoy, what have you done to him," he asked, sounding strangely imperious to his own voice. The blonde's response was very slow, and as Harry watched his eyes focus on himself, he realized that they had become disturbingly dark.

"Sucking all the fun out of things, are you, Potter? Well, don't worry your little Savior head. He won't get hurt unless he's dumb enough to cast a curse," he said, now moving to stand up as Professor McGonagall struggled to the front.

"What is going on here," she asked in outrage, "Mr. Malfoy, release Mr. Zabini at once!"

"Alright then. Guess there's no room for fun today," he said, flicked his wrist and took his wand from his sleeve. With a quick, noncommittal gesture, the force field disappeared. Zabini patted himself down as if he had been put in a bracing hold by an oaf. Harry narrowed his eyes at Malfoy's wand. If he hadn't had it out before, how had he cast the spell? Beside him, Hermione must have been thinking the same thing, because her brows furrowed in confusion.

"Now, Mr. Malfoy, you will apologize to Mr. Zabini."

"You'd better," the dark Slytherin said, "S'not everyday I can get you to admit to being the freak you are."

"Mr. Zabini," McGonagall puffed as the crowd grew on edge.

"I mean, you may have gotten away with being a sick little murder, but you can't get away with this," he said, crossing his arms and looking rather pompous. It seemed as though he had figured Malfoy out completely. The blonde raised his eyebrows.

"Mr. Zabini!"

"Ah, those idiotic rumors. Someone must have thought themselves brilliant. Anyone can make those up. That's as true me saying," Malfoy paused to think, body flowing into a foolish thinking pose, as if it was a challenge. He snorted.

"My parents were sent to Belgium by Voldemort himself, where they were eaten alive by werewolves. A death sentence to the untrusted," he said lightly, as if they were discussing tea. If he had not been so drunk and out of his mind at the moment, he wouldn't have been able to say these things as all. If he wasn't... he didn't know what he would have done to the dark Slytherin. He certainly wouldn't have left him breathing.

"That just proves that you're a freak," Zabini said.

"Oh, so true," the blonde agreed dismissively.

On the other side of things, Draco had no care for the swell and shake of emotion he had caused in the crowd. The war was very fresh on their minds; not even a year had passed yet. Saying the forbidden name so blatantly was almost forbidden to the tongues, for fear that it would bring their reality crashing down. Draco knew it wouldn't for he had had an almost front row seat to the destruction of the snake bastard. With no further care, he turned to McGonagall.

"I do apologize for using my magic without permission, and I will take the consequences," he said, bowing slightly to her. He meant no harm, and found no quarrels with taking the proper punishment.

"Mr. Malfoy, what happened to you," the elderly woman asked. For as second, Draco was confused. As if remembering, his obscenely red tongue darted out to lick the steady stream of blood flowing down his chin. He turned his head to the massive crater in the wall. He looked at it for a minute before turning back the professor.

"I seem to have bitten a hole in my tongue," he said, before sticking it out and showing them that he was being quite literal. There, in his tongue, was a crescent shaped hole. Before any blood could fall, Draco put it back where it belonged. Half of the onlookers shuddered, and the other half swooned. The blonde vaguely wondered what the other half was swooning at; his tongue or the blood.

"Mr. Zabini! Go to my office this instant! You will receive punishment as soon as I have taken Mr. Malfoy to the infirmary. Mr. Malfoy, come with me," she said sharply before turning on her heel.

"What! Why me! He's the one who-"

"Trapped you in a bubble," Draco said as he walked passed. Zabini grit his teeth and raised his wand.

"Don't even think about it," Harry said, pointing his own wand at the Slytherin. There was a certain darkness to him that said he would have his revenge. He turned away and stocked down the corridor the the headmistresses office.

~{D}~

By the time Draco returned to class, his tongue felt particularly numb. He kept swiping it over his lips to get the feeling back, but Pompfrey had told him not to expect much. He wasn't disobeying her as much as he was trying to be... optimistic. He would like to have the feeling back. As he swiped his tongue over his lips again, he felt the stares of many in the class. Draco was however, trying to pay some attention to the teacher. This year, they had added a new class to the regime. Seeing as how they had had to fix the school up, they didn't see why they couldn't add a few new rooms, and some new branches of study.

Draco, along with many of the other eighth years had decided to take The Theory and Use of Dreams and Memories as an alternative to Divination. Potter and Granger were among some of them. This was also one of the classes the the Slytherin shared with the Gryffindors. Draco was just as apathetic about that as he was everything else.

"Excellent class conduct today, and now, as we come to a close, I have some very important announcements to make," Professor Somnus said, leaning against his desk and flashing a smile at the class. Professor Somnus was one of the only new heartthrob Professors in the school. He was an metamorphagus, and he usually came to class with hair in colors of black, purple, or fire red. Most of the class had been shocked to see him come in one day with the regular on one day, and then come in with a set of locks that looked like they had been set on fire. Apart from that, he didn't change his facial features, or the fact that he had very long hair tied in a high pony tail. He seemed to take this job with leisure, seeing fit not to get angry at anything.

"We've been talking about the theory of dreams and memories since the start of the year, yeah," he asked, and everyone obviously agreed with him, some more enthusiastic than others. Draco's brow twitched at the unnecessary act.

"Its safe to assume that we all know what we're talking about here, right? We've finished the book. Studied top to bottom and all that, yeah," he asked, picking up the book, flipping through the pages and then tossing the book. It flew over his desk and landed almost elegantly on a stool next to a cabinet that stood next to the window. Draco looked at it because of course the bloody handsome professor could do things like that. The class agreed to his questions.

"So would it be safe that we could put our studies to practice?"

Granger was the first to have her hand raised, strands of her long, frizzy hair flying up. Mr. Somnus, unlike other teachers, had no problem calling on her regularly. He liked hearing that any of his students were pursuing their knowledge.

"Yes, Ms. Granger?"

"When you say put our studies to practice... do you mean using actual dreams and memories," she asked, and everyone started up talking. Draco's eyes slipped closed and he grasped the edge of his desk in a white knuckled grip. His dreams? His memories? Used in study, they would... Well, Draco felt slightly sick at the thought, though that might just have been his need to drink more. The blonde couldn't remember the last time he had had a dream. Not only that, but he loathed to think about his dreams and memories. He was focused on his present and/ or future.

"That's right."

"Isn't that invading on personal-"

"Ms. Granger," he said, very lightly, his voice sounding like the chime of a bell, "I would not take such precious things from students without such permission. Only those who volunteer will have themselves... outed, will you say? Does that answer your question?"

"Yes, Professor," she said, taking her seat back. Professor smiled at her politely.

"Mr. Malfoy, am I boring you," he asked, before he actually turned to look at him. Draco's eyes flitted open and stared at him with an intensity that burned brightly. The blonde would say he usually reserved those for Potter, but the brief images flashing through his mind and trying to clear his drunken head had struck him. So he stared for a minute.

"No," he answered curtly. Professor Somnus crossed his arms.

"Well then, are you suffering from your homework so much that you are losing sleep during the night?"

"No, Professor. I was thinking," Draco replied, because he was sure this onslaught of nonsensical questions would continue if he did not.

"And you had to do so with your eyes closed," he asked. Behind him, Draco heard Zabini snort. He released his grip on the edge of his desk and clasped it in his lap.

"These thoughts were better done with closed eyes. Like a dream with the eyes open," he said as way of explanation. Professor Somnus smiled charmingly and dipped his head.

"Very true, Mr. Malfoy. Do not let it happen in my class too often. On to our next order of business... This might not go over well," he said, rubbing a hand over the back of his neck. There was an edge to his procrastination that Draco didn't like. Even though the sun shown brightly in the room, everything seemed to go dark as the professor's eyes roamed over the classroom.

"It has been decided- not by me personally- that there will be a dueling club initiated in Hogwarts."

There was a silence that spoke numbers, and then the whispers started like wild fire. Draco could feel the heat of Blaise's stare on the back of his neck. He pointedly ignored it.

"This is not mandatory and will not go against your graduation. However, it would be preferable if the older students could teach the younger ones the elements of a duel," he said, earning some modestly interested voices in whisper. Draco did not plan on going to any of those dueling instructions nor practices. Even with Zabini still there, he had had enough fighting for his life time. The bell rang.

"Class dismissed."

Draco packed his things, ready to get to the second floor bathroom, which was still inevitably haunted by Moaning Murtle.

~{d}~

Harry was glad for break. Professor Somnus wasn't a bad teacher, but there was something about him that left Harry a little... prickly sometimes. He was like an open flirt, but that wasn't true. No one could really tell if he was flirting with his students or if that was how he naturally acted. The way he had attacked Malfoy... He wasn't going to say it was wrong, because the prat hadn't been paying attention at all. There was something about him that Harry saw on his face while he was 'thinking' that were a bit frightening. The only reason he had been caught was because the raven had been looking at him.

After class, Malfoy was the first out, not seeming to be in a hurry, but being so regardless. Harry watched him go and became curious. He was a naturally curious person and flashbacks of sixth year raced through his mind. That year had been the most thoroughly disastrous year of all time. He didn't want a repeat. Not at all.

"'Mione... I'll meet you and Ron in the library. I've got to go to the loo," he said. Hermione shook her head and made a repulsed face.

"I don't know why you insist on telling me things like this," she said, before smiling, "Alright."

She turned away, and Harry did to, trying to catch a lock of white blonde hair. He hurried through the crowd, watching the little first years scurry around. He swore they got smaller every year. He couldn't remember being that tiny... Harry shook his thoughts off for later. He was not trying to lose the blonde hair he had so come to dislike.

…

Evidently, Malfoy had led him to the loo. Harry felt stupid at first before he heard Moaning Murtle say, "Welcome back, Draco."

She practically purred it. Harry shuddered. Was Malfoy seducing Murtle? The raven peeked into the bathroom. He watched as Malfoy plopped down on the floor and reached into his satchel bag.

"Thanks, Murtle. Still sad," he asked. The girl sat down and pouted. They seemed to have a good relationship. The raven didn't see why he couldn't leave Malfoy to enjoy his free time. It wasn't his decision what the blonde did with it. As fate would have it, something always happened to keep him interested in Malfoy. The sound of cork being pulled off a vial sounded. Harry froze.

"Well, yes-... Draco, please, not again," she begged, her voice soft, as if expecting someone to walk in at any moment and catch them. Harry sat stuck for a moment, before he barged in, ready to fight Malfoy if he had to.