b A/N: This is my first HP fan fiction! I'm working very hard on it for you guys so I'm sorry for the slow updates. Please review it and tell me what you think of it so far. It would mean a lot! /b

Chapter One

He was lost in thinking of the platinum hair, the piercing eyes, and the-

"Watch where you're going Potter!" Draco Malfoy snapped as he smacked into Harry's shoulder, disrupting his thoughts. Malfoy looked back over his shoulder and gave a sly smirk that only he seemed capable of.

"The way he constantly displays hostility to me," he mumbled under his breath. He stared at Draco's retreating back until Draco was more than halfway down the corridor. His eyes lingering just long enough for Ron to notice.

"Come off it Harry. It's Malfoy, What do you expect?" Ron says putting a hand on Harry's shoulder and leading him away toward the grand staircase.

What did I expect? Harry said to himself. Consideration? Caring? Maybe even…loving? His conscience whispered. Harry shook his head to clear the thought. He sighed and made the ascent to the seventh floor where the Gryffindor dormitories were located. As he trudged upwards, he was vaguely aware of the conversation Ron was trying to force upon the silence. It was something about Hermione being daft and something else all together about the Chudley Cannons. "I am right though aren't I?" Ron inquired, looking at Harry.

"Err…" Harry started to say.

"What's wrong with you Harry? You haven't been listening this entire time have you?" Ron said.

"Well…I err…no," Harry answered.

"Look mate," Ron said, "I dunno what's wrong, but this isn't bloody natural of you, so you better start spilling it".

Of course Ron wouldn't know what's wrong. Harry himself didn't even know what was bothering him. Harry was about to say that last thought aloud, when the portrait of the Fat Lady suddenly swung forward revealing a mass of bushy brown hair. "Hermione," Harry greeted her. Ron averted his eyes and mumbled something incoherent.

"Oh hello. Erm Harry can I have a word," she glance towards Ron, "In private?"

"Yeah well I need to go find Lavender anyway," Ron grunted.

As they all crawled through the passageway into the common room, Harry heard a high-pitched squealing of "Won-Won!" as Lavender practically jumped onto Ron. Hermione gave an exasperated sigh and dragged Harry roughly by his arm to the opposite side of the room. She practically shoved him into one of the chairs that surrounded a round table before settling herself down in the chair opposite Harry's.

"What is it Hermione?" Harry asked.

"That!" she yelped, flourishing her hand at Ron and Lavender who were know snogging furiously as though they were trying to eat each other from the mouth down.

"Yeah…bit dramatic isn't it?"

"A bit dramatic?" she asked, her eyes bulging. "I don't know how much more of it I can take! He's doing it on purpose just to make a show of it, I'm certain! Plus, if I have to listen to Lavender Brown ranting about how wonderful 'Won-Won' is one more time, I'll go mad!"

Harry stared at her with both of his eyebrows raised. "I knew it's been bothering you, but that much?"

"Yes that much! I-" Hermione stared to say, when a loud girlish giggling distracted her. She shot a glance toward Ron and Lavender and then stood up and walked briskly out of the room. No doubt to the library.

"Right then," Harry said to the empty mahogany chair in front of him. He slowly got up and walked up the stairs to the boy's dormitory giving one at last glance Ron, who did not look like he would be coming up any time soon. He walked up the winding stone staircase and let his hand trail along the cold wall. Harry hoped that no one was in the dormitory. He wanted some time alone to go over today's events. He pushed open the door that led to the circular boy's dormitory and relief spread through him.

Luckily, he found that no one had come up to bed yet and he was thankful for the solitude. He walked to the foot of his four-poster bed to rummage in his trunk for his nightclothes. Harry barely even took thought to dressing. His mind was too preoccupied with so many innermost thoughts that he had not yet shared with anyone.

He pulled the curtains shut, and lay on his bed, looking up towards the ceiling. Today was extremely hectic what with all the assignments all his teachers were forcing upon everyone now that the second term had begun. Snape was unusually harsh today if that was even possible. He had deducted 20 points from Gryffindor because Neville's potion had yet again, been horribly wrong. Neville was lucky that Snape hadn't made him drink it this time.

Harry let out a breath that he didn't know he was holding, and crossed his arms behind his neck. He didn't want to sleep. Harry knew that the moment he would allow himself to sleep, his dreams would be plagued with the thoughts and actions of Lord Voldemort. He wouldn't sleep. He couldn't sleep. But his mind and body had betrayed him and with his eyes fluttering shut, he drifted.

He was in a dingy, dusty room with a small shaft of light shimmering through a grimy window and someone was chained to the wall in front of him, slumped forward putting tension on the rusted chains.

"Once again, tell me where it is!" Voldemort's voice thundered.

"I told you, I don't know where it is. I know nothing of it," a weak voice came from the battered man hanging from the chains. His voice came out in raspy, quick breaths.

"Well, it seems then that I no longer have any use for you Ollivander," Voldemort said with utter calmness in his voice.

"No please! No!" Ollivander tried to scream, but it only came out as a hoarse grunting sound.

"Crucio!"

Ollivander twisted and writhed against the wall, a look of extreme pain and torment upon his face. His mouth opened and closed rapidly, unable to make a sound. His wrists cut into the shackles that bound him and blood splattered on the grime-encrusted floor in thick sticky pools.

"No!" Harry awoke with a start. His scar burned and ached with the intensity of fire. It almost felt like his skull was splitting apart. He clenched his fists tight to try and get past the searing pain. The intensity slowly ebbed away until just a shadow of the torture was left.

He was sweating and his chest rose and fell rapidly with his breathing. He threw off the heavy duvet cover and pulled aside the red and gold embroidered curtains that surrounded his bed. He looked all around at his sleeping friends and was amazed to find that he had not woken them with his scream.

He stood, and crossed to the stained-glass window near his bed. He opened the latch carefully so as no to wake the still sleeping boys, and pulled the pane of glass inwards. Harry hoisted himself up onto the ledge and let his feet dangle over the edge. He felt a rushing feeling in the pit of his stomach; knowing that if he fell from this high up, it would certainly be the death of him. The cold, winter night air stung his face and chilled the sweat upon his flesh. He looked away from the Hogwarts grounds and instead looked down at his hands and fidgeted with the hem of his nightshirt.

So, Voldemort is looking for something, Harry thought to himself. But what? What could he possibly need the wand maker Ollivander for? It didn't make sense to him and he didn't know what to make of the Dark Lord's new plan. Part of him wanted to tell Ron and Hermione about it right away, but Harry knew they would blow it all out of proportion and beg him to tell Dumbledore. He would tell Dumbledore, but not yet. Not now. Not when he didn't even know what it meant.

Harry lifted his head and looked once more towards the grounds. It seemed so peaceful, so serene. The sky was overcast and the clouds swelled, pregnant with rain that would drop soon. The Black Lake rippled and Harry could just make out the giant squid's tentacles below the glassy surface. Now he looked towards the Forbidden Forest and Hagrid's hut. No warm, glowing light emitted from its windows at this late hour. He sighed. He wished for some comfort after the new dream. Something to make him feel all right, that would let him know that he would triumph over the Dark Lord. But nothing came.

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw movement. Harry went into panic mode. A tall, black-cloaked figure was gliding swiftly toward the lake. His heart sped faster and thumped under his rib cage. The figure strode to the shore of the Black Lake, far below Harry's watching eyes, and then stopped. Harry strained his eyes to try and see who or what, it was.

The cloaked figure sat down on the bank and removed its hood. Harry saw blond hair shining in the moonlight.

"Malfoy?" he whispered. Harry cocked his head to one side. What was he doing outside of the castle at this forsaken hour?

A loud clap of thunder roared and Harry saw Malfoy jump and raise his face to the skies. He himself had nearly fallen off the ledge. Harry shivered and drew his arms around his knees and wondered how Draco could stand the cold. Draco? He shook his head for the umpteenth time that day. It had always been Malfoy, not Draco. What was going on today? He shrugged and continued to watch the blond boy by the lake.

As a matter of fact, Draco had been on Harry's mind a lot these days. He annunciated the name Draco loudly in his head. Maybe to prove a point that he could call him whatever he found suit. Harry furrowed his brow and pondered that small fact that he was always on his mind. He would find himself wandering in the corridors just for a chance to see Draco on some days. And when he didn't see Draco, he was thinking about him. Harry wanted the other boy's acceptance even though he wasn't sure why. Draco Malfoy has never once been nice to him and the Malfoy family was far worse. So why did he strive to be near him?

Harry snapped out of his almost trance-like thoughts and began to watch Draco again. He was still sitting on the shore, but now he had started to throw stones smoothly across the black, glassy lake. Harry wondered what could be troubling the Slytherin Prince. All of a sudden, Malfoy had thrown his head into his hands and just sat there; a pile of stones lay forgotten next to him.

Harry sat up and stared hard at the boy in black. Was that…shaking? Could the tough, cold-hearted Draco Malfoy be crying? Was that even an emotion he knew how to express and feel?

"I need to know what's going on," Harry said to no one in particular.

"Draco," he whispered into the night.