Fic Title: Dreaming

Author: Psychotic Ditz

Summary: Gryffindor fourth year, Aurora Neisson has always been intrigued by the seemingly misunderstood Slytherins. What happens when she happens upon a chance in counter with their "king."

Rating: PG13

A/N: Not a Mary Sue(I don't think.) Sorry for making Ginny such an airhead. Right now this is a stand alone, though if you like it enough (*coughcough*REVIEW*coughcough*), I may continue.

I've always tried to be objective with people, especially those I believe may have been misjudged. I think it comes from having been raised by a Werewolf and, more recently, a wrongly charged murderer, though I here that my mother was much the same. In any case, given this tendency, it is no wonder that when I started Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry I immediately drifted towards the Slytherins. One in particular caught my eye and he was later to become my greatest friend, though had I known the trials I would have had to go through to achieve this status in the beginning, I might never had tried. Then again, more than bravery, the foolish belief that one is invincible is a notable Gryffindor trait. And that is where my story starts out, at the Gryffindor table beside a small redheaded girl and a sandy-haired boy in my first year…

"Hi, I'm Aurora Neisson," I said sticking a hand out to the girl beside me.

"Ginny Weasly," she replied softly, taking my hand in a feather light grasp. I smiled and turned to the boy.

"And you are?"

"Colin Creevey," he said with a goofy grin. I noted that he had an old fashioned camera around his neck.

"Muggle-born?" I asked gesturing to it. He nodded.

"Cool. If you want me to, I can show you a way to develop the pictures so they move." My guardian's condition as a werewolf had made it hard to find work in the wizarding world, and we had often been forced into Muggle society to earn enough money for food. I had even gone to a Muggle elementary school (A/N: "primary school" for Britain I think), but I had always known who I was.

"Really? Awesome!" he said enthusiastically.

"May- may I see your camera?" Ginny asked timidly. "My father's really into Muggle stuff. He collects plugs."

Colin raised his eyebrows but handed over the camera none-the-less. Ginny turned it over and examined the shutter and lens.

"It's not all that different from a Wizard camera," she said finally, handing it back. "It just has a lot more little gadgets pieces inside it, and lots of Wizard camera's have special features that Muggle ones don't. If it wasn't for centering charms, I doubt that any of my brother's head's would have made it into our family portraits."

"Do you have a lot of brothers? I just have my little brother Denis," Colin said.

"Yep," said Ginny with a grin on her face. "I'm the youngest and only girl in my family. Percy's the head boy standing over there and Fred and George are the two twins." She pointed to the boys with ginger locks to match her own.

"Ron should be around here somewhere," she said looking down the table. "Oh, I hope he didn't miss the Sorting!"

"How many brothers do you have?" I exclaimed.

"Six," she said matter-of-factly, "Bill and Charlie already graduated." Wow, I thought.

"It must suck to be the only girl," I said. Bet she's spoiled rotten.

"Oh, yes. I positively hate it sometimes, but you get used to it. And I love them all dearly." I was beginning to think that once you got her started, Ginny Weasly never stopped talking.

"Did you know that my brother Ron's friend's with Harry Potter? He's probably off with him now."

"The Harry Potter!" Colin squealed. I rolled my eyes. Personally, I had had enough of him to last a lifetime, but obviously Ginny had not. Nor, it seemed, had Colin, though I wondered maliciously how a Muggle-born could already know so much about him. Must have been reading up. As Ginny and Colin began a conversation about the great, wonderful Boy-Who-Lived, I ate my treacle and wondered if everyone at Hogwarts was like this.

I was soon to find out that most people were not like Colin and Ginny though. Despite the fact that they were crazy (and on the verge of starting a two person Harry Potter Fan Club), most people were, if not exactly normal, then at least much easier to deal with.

I became aquatinted with all of the Gryffindor in our year and many students from other houses, though I found Slytherin to be a hard cliché to break into. Maybe this was the reason I was so attracted to the house. Maybe it was because I wasn't supposed to be, as many spirited, older Gyrffindors told me, and maybe it was because no one else liked them, so I was naturally inclined to extend a hand.

I did make friends with one Slytherin, a girl by the name of Piper O'Reilly. We were best friends in that first year, though when our second year came around, I went back to hanging out with Ginny more (I'll admit that I felt guilty), and Piper decided that if she wanted to be a true Slytherin, she could have nothing to do with me. So I forced Slytherin to the back of my mind and focused on schoolwork, boys, and the constant adventures Hogwarts offers. Ginny and I became closer, though there were still times I wanted to take her head off for mooning over Harry. My old determinedness to conquer Slytherin did not return until halfway through my forth year.

I had stepped out of the entrance hall for a smoke. Ginny was meeting Neville in the Library for a bit of "studying" so I did not have to worry about her catching me. It wasn't that I felt guilty about my bad habit, I just didn't want her, or Prefect Hermione Granger, on my case to quit. I had just lit up with my wand and inhaled a first deep breath when I heard the deep voice.

"Spare me a fag?" I reached in my packet and held out my pack without looking at the speaker. I had to turn to take the pack back though, and when I did I almost dropped it.

It was he. The King of the Serpents with the looks of a god and a bad ass attitude that made me feel reckless. Draco Malfoy. If I were Ginny, he was my Harry Potter, but thanks to Ginny's often painful-to-watch demonstrations, I knew not to show it. I couldn't help raising an eyebrow, though.

Exhaling, I asked, "aren't cigarette's a bit too Muggle for a Malfoy?"

"Aren't bad habits beneath Gryffindors?" he countered. I just took another puff and watched him. It was cold and his pale cheeks were flushed, though not his aristocratic nose, and in the falling dusk his silver hair seemed to glow. Finally he looked back at me.

"What?" he snapped. I just shrugged.

"Ah, well, I bet Potter's told all you little Gryffindors not to turn your back on me or something. Bloody Hero." He chuckled.

"Oh, please. Don't tell me you're obsessed with him too?" I said. He raised an eyebrow.

"So, it does talk." he drawled, voice filled with amusement and a certain edge that sent shivers down my spine. Good shivers.

"I'm not an it," I said, "And of course I talk. Did you think lung cancer had rendered me mute?" He smirked. I waited for him to say something, but he just inhaled deeply on his cigarette. I bit down my sigh and leaned back against the building, also smoking in silence.

"So, you're sick of Potter?" I almost jumped. I looked up but he was staring over the grounds, not at me.

"Am I friends with Ginny Weasly?" He laughed, and the suddenness of it startled me. Briefly, I wondered how many people had heard Draco Malfoy laugh, or better yet, how many had been the one to cause it. The thought warmed me.

"You don't seem like the Weasly sort," he said, finally looking at me. "Didn't you use to be friends with Piper O'Reilly?"

"How did you know?" I asked, startled. He brushed it of with a wave of his hand and fag.

"It's my business to know. I'm head of Slytherin. Besides, I'm the one that told her to stop hanging out with you, being a Gryffindor. I'm not so sure now, though." He was staring at my face, hard and judging, and I felt my face heat up. Who could not blush when they had the full attention of a boy that looked like an angel? Yes, an angel with a halo of smoke. The thought almost made me laugh.

I broke my gaze to ground out my now-short fag, and with a curt nod, I started to head inside. I had my hand on the knob when he grabbed my arm. I looked back at him and watched as he ground out his own cigarette. He looked back up at me and once again I was lost it the glacial blue of his eyes.

"I never got to thank you for the cigarette," he said, and as he slowly bent his head down towards mine, I thought my heart was going to burst. His lips brushed against my own I couldn't help but react. Feverently. I guess my willingness led him to deepen the kiss. My mouth opened against his and his tongue entered, warm and teasing. He tasted like he smelled, of tobacco and wine. It was a refined taste, but I barely had time to acknowledge it before he broke the kiss. Barely pulling back his head, he whispered.

"Thank you." His voice was husky and seducing. I clearly remember thinking, Girl, you're in trouble now. The rest of it is blurred like a dream. An achingly sweet and passionate dream. And now, slipping back on my robes and creeping across Hogwarts into Gryffindor Tower in the wee hours of the morning, I think back to where I left my angel sleeping in his spacious Prefect Bedroom and wish I could go back to sleep and be dreaming again.