Disclaimer: I don't own the characters, setting, etc., etc., it all belongs to the literary genius otherwise known as J.K. Rowling.  I think I own the plot, not quite sure, but don't steal! There's no point in suing either, since I'm flat broke.

A/N: Not much to say really…just thanks to my beta Jennifer (sorry, I forgot your pen name).

The Dragon Element

Chapter 1- Nightmares and Potions

Draco sat up in his bed, drenched in cold sweat, eyes wide.  Mentally, he shook himself.  It was just another nightmare.  He settled back into his bed and shut his eyes.  It was no use. Whenever he closed his eyes, the image surfaced from the darkness, surrounding all Draco's thoughts in fear.  He pushed his pine green blankets away and swung his legs over the side of the bed.  The stone flagstones of the dormitory floor were ice against Draco's bare feet, but he made no sound.  Silently he slipped past the beds of his sleeping classmates, becoming envious of their looks of contentment.  He slipped downstairs to the common room and sat on one of the overstuffed leather sofas set in front of the ever-blazing fire. 

He couldn't keep doing this.  Each night was the same. Trying to escape from the nightmare only to be confronted by a more horrific one as he slept.  He couldn't take it anymore.  Dark circles outlined his gray eyes, standing out against his pallid complexion.  Eventually the dance of the flames would lull him to sleep, but only for a few torturous hours before the day started again.

Draco stared into the flames.  Their hypnotizing dance was reflected in his eyes, the soft light turning his silvery hair to a pale orange.  His eyelids became heavy.  Slowly he drifted off…

"Draco, get up, you've already slept through breakfast." Draco pushed away the person who was roughly shaking him, then slowly opened his eyelids, which were swollen with fatigue.

"Go away Blaise, leave me alone."

"Fine, whatever, I was just telling you." The brunette boy tapped a stone on the wall, then walked through the hole that was created when a concealed door slid open to admit him.

Draco ran his fingers through his hair making it stand on end, then stood up himself.  He figured that if he was already late, it wouldn't hurt to take his time getting ready.  He walked up to his dormitory, took a shower, and got dressed.  Sitting on his bed he ran his fingers through his still-wet hair again, making it look as though he had been electrocuted.  Catching a glimpse of his reflection, he started to smooth it back down, but stopped leaving it half spiked.  He couldn't care less what he looked like anymore.

He rummaged through his trunk, grabbing his materials for Potions.  He couldn't stand that class, but it was the only easy grade he had.  He knew that Snape wouldn't care if he was late…Snape didn't care about anything he did.  The other houses thought it was simply favoritism, but Draco knew that his father blackmailed him.  His father wouldn't tell Voldemort of Snape's doings as long as he made Draco's life as smooth as possible.  Why he did this, Draco didn't know at all.  It seemed to him that his father cared about a dead shrub more than his own son. 

Draco left his dormitory in a stupor.  He walked the familiar hallways, not looking towards the left or right, not even flinching when he walked through the Bloody Baron.  He reached the Potions classroom twenty minutes after the first bell had rung. 

"Mr. Malfoy, I believe you are late to this class, do you have an excuse?" Snape's voice cut through the strained silence of the classroom, his voice almost as greasy as his tangled hair.

"I wasn't feeling well Professor." Draco tried to make this sound as convincing as possible, which wasn't hard, considering he honestly felt like he was an inch away from death.

"Very well, you can be paired with Miss Granger, we are making a Truth Potion."

Hermione looked pleadingly at Harry and Ron who were paired with each other.  Ron just shrugged apologetically and Harry just looked like he was glad that for once it wasn't him.  Hermione watched Draco as he walked over, his normal domineering swagger reduced to a weak walk.  He set his books down next to the cauldron and looked into the potion. He could see his face reflected in the shimmering liquid, his features getting distorted as bubbles grew and popped.  Slowly he raised his gaze until he was looking straight into Hermione's eyes.

"Well, you haven't screwed it up yet, Mudblood." His voice was but a hoarse whisper, but Hermione glared at him as if he had shouted it for the world to hear.  It was only the thought of losing house points for Gryffindor that kept Hermione from smacking him across the face, as she had done in their 3rd year.  She forced herself to stare back into his icy blue eyes, however, her hatred slowly fizzled into puzzlement.  The permanent look of malice shining in his eyes was gone.  He looked sick, weak, and sad.  She looked away.  His hollowed, deadened look scared her.

"Um, well, we have to let it sit for about ten minutes, then we add the chive, beetle and mandrake mixture, which you can make."

"Fine." Draco started to chop pieces of chive and mandrake into tiny, almost microscopic pieces, yet all were the exact same size.  His preciseness was yet another thing that frightened Hermione.  He was always so clean, exact, in his appearance especially.  His robes were impeccably neat, his hair combed and slicked back without a single hair out of place.  Hermione glanced up at him.  His white-blonde hair was sticking up as though he had stuck his finger in an electrical socket.  (This is completely impossible though, considering that electrical things don't work on Hogwarts campus, due to all the magic in the air.)  Hermione guessed that he was simply trying out a new "style."  She had to admit though; it was a good look for him. 

"It's been about ten minutes, hasn't it?" said Draco, his voice soft, but lacking its usual silken quality. 

Hermione hadn't heard him.  She had turned her gaze towards Harry and Ron, and was mouthing something to them, which Draco could not read.  Draco also turned his gaze in that direction.  He hated those two, with a passion.  They were always so happy, even when death was looking them in the eye.  Sorrow did not seem to faze them; they were locked in their world of fluffy white bunny rabbits, peaceful and unchanging. Harry's eyes met Draco's for a second, emerald green connecting with tarnished pewter, a glare filled with hatred and contempt.  Harry broke eye contact first, ducking his head and whispering something to his ginger-headed companion, something undoubtedly cruel by their standards, but as harsh as a cotton ball to Draco's. 

Draco sighed in disgust.  It was just his luck that these three mangy Gryffindors shared the one class he had it easy in.  He glanced at his watch, the silver hands reflecting the meager light.

"Hermione, it's been ten minutes…" Draco's whisper was once again met with silence.

"Oh, forget it," he muttered, and tipped the chopped mixture into the potion.  The solution fizzed and bubbled, turning from black to gold to clear.  A pleasing scent filled the air, covering the stench of previous potions.

Draco breathed in deeply, floating internally on the smell of unidentifiable spices mixed with a breath of cool mountain wind.  He felt himself getting light-headed, and his vision blurred.  He sensed a lightness in him, like a huge weight had been lifted off him.  His brain seemed no longer in control of his nerves; he could feel nothing, no pain, no sensation of touch whatsoever.  He tried calling out to Hermione, but his voice was lost in a sea of silence…

A/N: There's chapter one…tell me what you think! Reviews make me write faster…flames I use to fuel the fire in my brain…heh heh…Also, if you would like to be another beta for me, just say so in your review…same thing goes if you want to know when the next chapter is posted.