(Disclaimer, disclaimer, disclaimer, if you recognize it it's not mine, etc. Enjoy!)
Draco's Nightmare
Chang is going down.
It was the first Quidditch match of the year, and Draco Malfoy had some payback to dish out.
Potter and his whole crowd are going down. He snarled quietly, enjoying the effect on his handsome features in the mirror. I'll teach them to put my father in prison.
He had it all planned out to the last second. As soon as Chang saw the Snitch, she would chase it, and he would chase her, crowding her so she was oblivious to everything else. Then Crabbe would whistle and hit a Bludger from behind them. He would swerve, the Bludger would take out Chang, and he would get the Snitch.
Simple, yet elegant.
A flicker of gold caught his eye twenty minutes in. Chang saw it too, and the chase was on. He focused on staying right on her tail, using her wake, and crowding her just enough that she didn't catch the Snitch, waiting for the whistle...
It wasn't until the Bludger impacted with the back of his head that he remembered.
Crabbe didn't know how to whistle.
And now the ground was coming up to meet him, very fast indeed.
The last thing he saw was a blue and black blur beneath him, before darkness and pain and disorientation became his whole world.
"Draco."
He moaned. His head was resting on something soft, but it still hurt. A lot. The rest of him was lying on what felt like grass, and he could sense that there were several people standing around him.
"Wha'hit me?" he asked thickly.
"A Bludger," said a different voice. "You flew right in front of it, you idiot!"
"Don't yell at him, Eagle Hawk," said a girl's voice. "He did it for the team. We won, didn't we?"
"I don't want to win at the price of injuring my best Chaser!" snapped the second voice again.
"And I thought I was your best Chaser," the girl said, sounding amused.
"Stop it, Red Lynx," the first voice said. "You and Snow Fox are both good and you know it. Draco, can you open your eyes?"
"'M not a Chaser," Draco muttered, trying to remember how his eyes worked. "'M a Seeker."
"That can't be good, if he doesn't remember what position he plays," said the second voice in tones of definite worry.
Draco finally made the right connections and pried one eye open.
Red, was his first impression. Lots of red. Red hair, red robes...
Red meant something. Something troubling.
"Draco, do you know me?" said a different female voice, a bit out of breath. The red-robed people parted to admit a girl with a lot of bushy brown hair, dressed in the usual Hogwarts apparel. "Do you know my name?"
"Yeah. Granger. Her-mi-o-ne Granger." He had to articulate every syllable carefully to get them out at all. She meant something troubling as well, but he couldn't quite figure out what...
"That's right." She smiled encouragingly. "And do you know who this is?" She pointed to the dirty-blonde girl beside her, whose usually dreamy, protuberant eyes were fixed disconcertingly on him.
Draco tried to focus on her. Ravenclaw, I think, a year or so younger than me... that dotty girl, Loony something...
"Err... Lovegood, right?"
The girl blinked once, then turned and walked away abruptly. "Luna!" Granger called, running after her.
Someone swore. "He doesn't know her. That's not good."
"Draco, do you know me?" One of the boys in red knelt down beside him. He had black hair sticking out every which way and bright green eyes behind his glasses. The sight of him shocked Draco back to something resembling normal.
"Potter!" He sat up quickly, then groaned as a miniature explosion seemed to go off in his head.
"Don't do that," Harry Potter said, sounding concerned. "Lie back down, Draco, you're going to hurt yourself. Madame Pomfrey's on her way."
"Since when d'you call me by my first name, Potty?" Draco snapped. Two or three of the girls made small noises of surprise, and Potter's eyes widened.
"This really isn't good," he said quietly.
"Here she comes," announced Ronald Weasley, whom Draco could now identify as the owner of the voice that had called him an idiot. At least that's normal. But why are all these Gryffindors standing around me?
And why is the world spinning and turning black around the edges?
And why am I wearing...
The sentence remained unfinished as he fell into darkness, but he had a terrible, nagging feeling that it was important, and it would be back to haunt him.
Red?
It was the first word in his mind as he awoke, and it meant something awful.
He looked down at himself through one slitted eye. Sure enough, he was wearing red.
Slytherins don't wear red.
Something's not right here.
"Is he awake?" asked Potter's voice from a short distance away, and Draco quickly closed his eyes and relaxed as much as he could. If being awake means I have to see you, no, I'm not...
Madame Pomfrey's voice answered him. "I don't think so, Mr. Potter, but I will inform you and Miss Granger-Lupin as soon as he awakens."
Granger-Lupin? Since when?
"Thank you, ma'am."
"Your family has been notified as well, they're on their way. But I must ask you to leave until they arrive."
Potter sighed. "Yes, ma'am."
One set of footsteps receded while another approached. Draco forced himself to breathe regularly. Faking sleep had often been a necessity in his house, to avoid his father in a bad mood.
Madame Pomfrey – at least he assumed it was she – stood at his bedside for a moment, then walked away again, and Draco could allow himself to open his eyes again.
Everything in the hospital wing looked about the same as usual – beds, walls, windows – except him. He was wearing Quidditch robes, red Quidditch robes, and the wrongness of that kept niggling at him.
So I get hit with a Bludger, and all the Gryffindors make a big fuss over me. Wait a second – what are they doing in Quidditch robes? They weren't even playing today, it was Slytherin vs. Ravenclaw.
This has to be some kind of practical joke. Someone hit my robes with a Color-Changer, all the Gryffindors changed and came down on the field with me, and now they're all being nice to me to freak me out.
How did they get Madame Pomfrey in on it, though? She sounds like it's the most normal thing in the world to tell Potter and Granger – Granger-Lupin, whatever that means – when I wake up. And she said "your family has been notified". Potter doesn't have a family, and even if he did, why would they get notified that I got hurt?
I need some answers. And I need them now.
And I know just the man to ask.
He scanned the room. It was deserted. Cautiously he sat up, testing his mobility. His head still ached, but he could stand upright and even walk without too much trouble.
I think I can handle two staircases. Especially going down.
As long as I don't get spotted.
Carefully, he crossed the room, walking as softly as he could, and was about to open the door when he heard voices on the other side.
"She kicked you out? Why?" It was unmistakably the voice of the Weasel King. Draco almost groaned aloud, remembering how that little idea of his had backfired.
"Don't know. But I'm not leaving. I want to be here when he wakes up."
"Harry, he might not want to see you," said the Mudblood. "He was so strange on the pitch, calling you names and acting stuck-up. Maybe..." Her voice sounded troubled. "Maybe there's something wrong with his mind."
"Let's go down to the kitchen, mate," the weasel's voice suggested. "Neville and the girls are already down there, and Dobby's fixing them up with something. We can wait there – I've got the Map, so we'll know when your family gets here."
"All right." Potter sounded resigned, as if he were only going along with it because he had to. Three sets of footsteps sounded down the hall, and Draco counted a slow twenty after he couldn't hear them anymore before cautiously opening the doors.
I definitely need answers.
And I need to get out of these robes.
But answers first.
He set off, very carefully, for the dungeons.
Somehow, he managed to get down both sets of stairs without being seen, and made it to the familiar door with a great sense of relief. He knocked, praying the man was in, and let out a breath he'd been unaware of holding when the deep voice he was expecting called out, "Enter."
He opened the door and stepped through, relaxing for the first time since this nightmarish day had begun. He'd been in this office many times, and he enjoyed looking at the various creatures and figuring out what they had been and what type of potion they were preserved in.
If anyone can help me, he can.
"Mr. Black," Professor Snape said, looking up.
Draco looked behind him. Who?
"Don't play games with me, boy, you know I mean you," Snape said testily. "What do you want?"
No. They can't have gotten to him too. He wouldn't do this to me. "Sir, don't you know me?"
"Of course I know you, Mr. Black. I have been teaching you in Potions class for more than five years. You are currently the second most promising member of my N.E.W.T. level class, and I have sometimes regretted the Sorting Hat's decision in regards to you. You would have made an excellent Slytherin."
"Would have made? Sir, I am a Slytherin!"
Snape raised an eyebrow. "Really, Mr. Black? Your current choice of apparel would indicate otherwise..."
"These – I don't know what happened to them, sir. I think someone charmed them. Mine are green. Really, they are."
Snape drew his wand and pointed it at Draco. "Finite," he intoned.
Nothing happened.
"It would seem not," Snape said in a "pull the other one" tone, putting away his wand.
Draco couldn't argue this, so he moved to a different point, hoping to get some semblance of sanity out of his professor. "Why do you keep calling me Black, sir?"
"I call you Black because it is your surname, unless you have changed it without informing the rest of the world."
This can't be happening. Draco leaned against the doorframe, trying to keep himself from clutching it desperately. "Sir, my name is Malfoy."
"That seems unlikely, considering your reaction in your first year to being called the son of Lucius Malfoy."
"Sir?"
"You and your 'siblings' cursed Mr. Nott, and in fact, all of your Slytherin yearmates, into unconsciousness. An offense for which, as I recall, you were never properly disciplined." Snape's face twisted into the lines of annoyance Draco knew well. Usually, though, the expression was directed at Harry Potter, after he had just gotten away with some fresh and astounding breach of school rules.
Avoiding for the moment the impossibility of what Snape claimed he had done, he focused on one of the words he hadn't understood. "Siblings, sir? I'm an only child..." He trailed off at Snape's scowl.
"Mr. Black, these games will get you nowhere. I am perfectly well aware that you were the only child of your biological parents. I am also quite well aware that you were raised from the age of four alongside three other children, who are not related to you, but whom you consider your sisters and brother. Are you going to pretend you do not know their names?"
Draco could feel his knees starting to buckle. I've lost my mind. That's the only explanation.
Weakly, he nodded. I might as well find out, but I have an awful feeling I already know...
"Miss Black, a third year, and Miss Granger-Lupin and Mr. Potter, both your fellow sixth years. All Gryffindors, of course. As are you."
That was as much as Draco's mind could take.
I think I've passed out more today than I ever have in my life before...
The last thing he saw was the stone floor of Snape's office, approaching very quickly. And this time, there was no blue and black coming between him and it.
This is going to hurt.
"Draco, can you hear me?"
"P-pansy?" Draco's eyes shot open. He was lying on a bed in the hospital wing, with Crabbe and Goyle standing beside him, looking about as worried as it was possible for them to look (not much). Pansy Parkinson was kneeling beside him, actually looking concerned.
"You know me?" she asked.
"Of course, you're Pansy Parkinson... but who am I?"
Please, please, please say...
"You're Draco Malfoy." Pansy looked strangely at him. "Right?"
Draco relaxed all over and looked down at his robes. Just to make sure...
Green. Thank Merlin.
He gave Pansy a nonchalant smile. "Right. I just had some weird dreams while I was out. How long was it?"
"You mean the first time or the second?"
"There was more than one?"
"You don't remember?" Pansy said in tones of shock.
"Er, no." And if I told you what I do remember, you'd think I was mental...
"Well, Chang dove to catch you after the Bludger hit you – you woke up right on the field."
"I did?"
Crabbe and Goyle nodded in tandem as Pansy went on. "Yes... but you were acting very strange. When Professor Snape called you by your last name, you got all mad at him – said it wasn't your name and never to call you that again. And then you ran over to Potter and Granger and the Weasleys and started talking to them." She made a face. "You were acting like their friend. What were you thinking?"
Draco shuddered. "I have no idea. I don't remember any of this. What happened then?"
"You looked kind of scared when they told you to go away, and then you climbed up in the stands and asked the Lovegood girl something. Whatever she told you, it really scared you – you almost passed out right there, and Madam Hooch and Professor Snape grabbed you while you were recovering. They had to Stun you to keep you from hurting someone. You've been out since then, until just now."
Draco swallowed hard. "Er, Pansy, can we pretend this afternoon never happened?"
She looked grim. "We can. I doubt Potter and his friends will."
Draco groaned. This day's a loser all around.
On the other hand, I'm a Slytherin again. Cunning, clever. There has to be some way to turn this to my advantage.
But darned if I can see what it is...
"You dreamed that you were Harry Potter's brother?" Theodore Nott fell to the floor of the Slytherin common room, howling with laughter. "Oh, that's precious!"
"Hey, you weren't the one nearly condemned to sleeping with the lions," Draco countered. "And really, I wasn't as worried about being Potter's brother as I was about being Granger's. Have you ever seen the homework schedules she draws up for Potter and Weasley? Color-coded, every minute of every day accounted for... no thank you."
"And you really don't remember what you did on the Quidditch pitch?" Blaise Zabini asked.
"No. Why?"
Blaise snickered. "You promise not to hurt me?"
"Promise. Tell me. Please." Better to know one's enemy...
"You proposed marriage to Luna Lovegood."
Draco sank into a chair as the common room erupted in laughter.
On the other hand, maybe I didn't need to know that.
"Or at least I think that's what 'Are you still my mate, Silent Wing?' means," Blaise choked out. "On bended knee, no less!"
No, I definitely didn't need to know that.
Draco stood in the hospital wing, sunlight streaming around him.
And through him.
All right, now this is a dream. Has to be.
He was even more sure when he saw the occupant of the nearest bed. It was him.
But he's wearing red. He's the Gryffindor me.
The person in the chair beside the bed made that far more likely.
There's no way you could get Ron Weasley to sit beside my bed. Or look worried about me.
As he watched, the eyelids of the Draco on the bed – call him Black, that's what they all called him – fluttered and he took a deep breath, making Weasley sit up straight.
"Snow Fox?" Weasley said hesitantly.
"Eagle Hawk," Black whispered. "Is that you?"
Weasley smiled at Black, sending an odd wave of jealousy through Draco.
What am I jealous about? I don't want Weasley for a friend...
Do I?
"Yeah, it's me," Weasley said chokily, squeezing Black's shoulder. "Welcome back."
"Thanks. Where's everyone else?"
"Outside. Your family's here too. Want to see them?"
"Yeah. I want to see everyone. Please."
Weasley practically ran to the other end of the room and flung the doors open. "He's back," Draco heard him say, and then...
Draco stared as a horde of people flooded into the hospital wing. There were at least eight of them, probably more.
Are they all here to see him?
The jealousy washed through him again as the four adults in the group – one of the men and one of the women looked vaguely familiar, but he couldn't name any of them – all tried to hug Black at once. The other boys – Potter and Longbottom – both tried to tell him something, and the girls – Granger, Weasley, Lovegood, and a younger one he didn't know – all cried.
Well, all except Lovegood. She simply strolled forward, in her distracted way, forcing people to make room for her, and occupied the chair Weasley had been sitting in.
"Silent Wing," Black breathed, staring at her as if she were the most beautiful thing in the world.
She leaned over and kissed him. Quite thoroughly, Draco noted.
Why doesn't Pansy ever kiss me like that?
When they broke off, Black lifted his hand and pressed the thumb side of it gently against Lovegood's breastbone. She returned the gesture, placing her hand flat against his chest. "Mates," she said simply.
"Mates," Black agreed, grinning idiotically. The man sitting next to him rubbed his head affectionately, messing up his hair, and Black let him.
Draco's jealousy vanished in an instant.
I wouldn't put up with that. No self-respecting person would.
And I'm going to be on a sugar high if I stick around here any longer, anyway. How sappy can you get?
Time to wake up.
Waking up on command was another of his useful skills acquired in childhood.
With a father like mine, every little trick I could learn kept my skin that much safer...
And for one more moment, he envied the boy in the bed, sitting contentedly next to a man who was obviously a father to him, surrounded by loving family and friends and looking so happy...
"Wake up, Draco," he said aloud.
His real eyes snapped open in the soothing darkness of the Slytherin boys' dorm. Crabbe and Goyle, as usual, were snoring away, making it impossible to tell if Nott and Zabini were asleep, though Draco suspected they were. It was, after all, some horrifically early hour of the morning. He rolled over to find his watch.
Gah. 2 o'clock. I knew it. And I probably won't be able to sleep for the rest of the night.
He got up and went out to the common room. To his surprise, Blaise was already there, sitting in front of the fire and staring into it. He whipped around as Draco entered. "Couldn't sleep," he said, a bit defensively.
"Me neither." Draco joined him on the floor. They both looked into the fire for a moment.
"Do you ever wonder," Draco began, "what your life would have been like if something was different?"
"How do you mean?"
"Say you were raised by someone else. Or with someone else. I don't know. Just if something changed. Do you ever wonder?"
"Not really," Blaise said frankly. "Do you?"
Draco shivered a little. "Well, I never used to," he said slowly. "Not before today. But now... I guess I can't help it."
"You mean the Gryffindor thing?"
Draco nodded.
"Just think of it as a bad dream," Blaise advised, getting up. "A nightmare."
"Good idea. Thanks. Good night."
"Good night." Blaise went into the dormitory, leaving Draco alone in front of the fire, staring into the flames.
So I guess I can never tell anyone that for one insane, impossible, crazy second, I wished it were real...
THE END
(A/N: Little one-shot type of thing in partial response to Quillian's Gryffindor!Draco challenge. The world where Draco Black lives will be a full response to that challenge, and is borrowed with permission from another writer, whydoyouneedtoknow, and her story "Living with Danger". Check it out!
Happy reading, and please don't forget to review!)