Disclaimer: Oh yes, my name is secretly J. K. Rowling and I'm a millionaire, and that's why I'm posting here and whishing for money for my birthday... And if you believed any of that, you need a serious realitycheck.

A Pocket of Calm

- a Draco Malfoy story

Having said goodbye to his mother, Draco Malfoy went to the train and started looking for an empty compartment where he could rest his ears a little.

'Gods' he thought, 'children everywhere! Laughing and squealing and running and shouting and who do I have to kill to get some peace around here?!'

Finally he found a place somewhere at the back of the train, and went in to enjoy the last few hours of privacy he had, before the hustle and bustle of living at Hogwarts made it seem like an unattainable dream. Again.

The first thing he did after having entered was turn around and lock the door with an as powerful locking charm as he could manage. There, peace at last! Only when he turned around to sit down did he see that the compartment wasn't as empty as he had first believed, for there, curled up in the opposite seat, was a small form, asleep.

After a moment's indecision he sat down in his own seat and considered the sleeping child. It was already in Hogwarts robes, but he couldn't tell which House, as the child had its back to Draco, and was all bundled up anyway.

'This is ridiculous!' Draco thought to himself, 'is it even a boy or a girl? If I'm to share my compartment, I want to know at least that.'

And with that, he stood up and leaned over to see if he could ascertain anything from the child's face. At first all he could see was hair. Black hair, to be exact and a lot of it. Then he took in the glasses that floated oddly away from the face and pushed out a bit on the ear in a way that must have meant that they pressed painfully into the skin on the other side of the face.

'Odd that he can sleep like that. Doesn't it hurt?' Draco wondered, and then he saw the dark smudges under the eyes, and thought, 'Ah.'

The boy, for it was definitely a boy, made a small noise in the back of his throat and turned slightly onto his back. He frowned a little, but soon settled down again into a sleep that a blind man could see was sorely needed.

Draco had stumbled back in shock at the sight of the other's face, but frozen when wakefulness had seemed imminent. Now he sank shakily down into his seat and gazed at the other, as he tried to come to terms with the fact that Potter (!!) was sleeping right across from him. The possibilities!

After allowing himself a few moments of glee and dreamy plotting, Draco reined in his childish urgings and once more considered Potter.

Well. He was sleeping. Odd, really that he looked so much smaller when he was sleeping than when he was awake. Vulnerable almost, which was probably what had kick-started the part of Draco that only really felt alive when he was sparring with Potter, verbally and not.

Potters robes had fallen open a bit and what showed under them wasn't pretty. Not a lot could be seen, of course, but Draco prided himself on being observant, and he had only ever seen that shade and texture of cloth on those of his Father's House Elves that had fallen out of favour. Draco frowned. There had been rumours from time to time about Potters home life, but nobody actually believed any of those. Looks like he'd have to revise a few of his notions about Potter now. Damn.

And then of course there were the dark smudges and bags under his eyes. The only reason for them that Draco could think of, were lack of sleep. But why? Well the cause could be the same as the one behind the clothes but then there were the other rumours, those that came from his Father and spoke of visions and nightmares and random cackles in Meetings...

Draco shuddered. 'Right, not thinking about that.'

He turned back to Potter. Well, they weren't at Hogwarts yet, and technically he was only told to make Potters life as difficult as possible while they were at School, and he really couldn't be expected to give up the last precious hours of his summer holiday for Potter, could he?

No, Draco decided, he really couldn't. And with that in mind he threw up a Silencing and Aversion Ward around the compartment, took out the book he had packed for this journey, waved his wand for the Music Charm, and settled into his seat to enjoy his last hours of freedom.

And if Potter slept on to the gentle tones of piano lullabies, and Draco's Ward kept other people from waking him up, it really shouldn't be credited to Draco at all.

After all, it was still his holiday, and he was allowed to enjoy it.

AN: Please give constructive criticism or positive feedback, if you've got any. No flames, though.

Thanks.