Dedication: For Jamie2109 in response to the 'Sometimes I dream' challenge line
Sometimes:
"Something I can help you with, Potter? That's a rhetorical question of course. We both know that your pathetic inadequacies are far beyond the reaches of even my genius to repair."
Harry rolled his eyes and bit back the sneering rebuttal that jumped to his lips at the blond's drawled, effortless venom. He needed to keep his temper in check if he wanted the truth.
"I want to ask you a question."
Malfoy lifted a brow before letting his voice drop to a mocking monotone, "Oh... gosh, Potter, I'm just all a'flutter with my overwhelming curiosity to help with whatever is on that tiny mind of yours."
Harry blinked, once and slow, folding his arms over his chest to keep from reaching out and rattling the blond's bones in his skin.
"Are you going to take the mark?"
He hadn't meant it to come out like that, hadn't meant for it to be so blunt as to whiten the skin round Malfoy's lips that way.
"Wouldn't you like to know?"
The words were spat, yet dry with ire, shaking on suddenly ragged breaths and as Malfoy made to turn, to walk away leaving him unanswered, something in Harry broke free.
His arms burst up and off his chest, one hand clawing up to turn Malfoy at his shoulder, spinning him on his heel as the other hand wrenched at Malfoy's arm, the left forearm unfairly hidden beneath a pristine white shirt sleeve and Harry burned with the need to tear it away, to see, to know.
"Wouldn't I like to know? That what you said? You're fucking right I want to know, you son of a bitch. I want to know how you can walk around this school knowing that to pledge yourself to him is to damn you, kill off the only fucking spark of actual life you have in you because that's what'll happen if you join him, he'll make you KILL and once you've done it, once you've killed... you're dead inside, Malfoy... or maybe that's it, huh? Maybe its too fucking late because you've got up every day since you can remember, and done what Daddy said all day long, been reared to the dark arts and fucking breathed Malfoy like it was all you were ever meant for until there's no actual Draco left and this, this fucking sneering empty spiteful shell gets up each day and walks around in your shoes, wearing your face and living your life because you're so fucking close to being dead already you haven't got the will to try to save yourself, let alone anyone else... isn't that right, Malfoy?"
Malfoy lifted eyes, oddly grey and lifeless now, tearing them from Harry's hand twisted on his arm to almost stare through Harry.
"No," he whispered and a sheen of moisture crept over the silver irises and suddenly long, trembling fingers jittered, cold, over Harry's own.
"Sometimes," he whispered and shook as Harry stared at him anew, "Sometimes, I dream."
Fin.