The Dream

Harry Potter sat lazily stirring his coffee. He had never been much of a morning person, especially at weekends, but this Saturday he had been persuaded to get up early to do some homework by Hermione. Her reasoning being that if they got up early to finish it, they would have the rest of the day to do as they pleased. Of course, the infamously organised Hermione Granger had already finished hers and was just sitting at the breakfast table to encourage himself and Ron, who looked equally dishevelled at not getting a lie in. Ronald Weasley sat leaning over his Potions essay, his slim fingers buried in his flaming hair, with a look of pure bewilderment. He looked at his girlfriend for help. She shook her head and took a bite from her toast. Harry hadn't even begun his yet, he was lost in thought.
Since the war, he hadn't been feeling his self. Until recently his life had been nothing but stressful, hectic and dangerous. He wasn't used to his new life yet, where his biggest worry was getting an essay done in time.

I should be happy... why aren't I happy? Voldemort is gone and I have a chance at a normal life. So why am I so... so... bored!

He was quickly drawn back to reality by the arrival of Ginny Weasley. Her long ginger hair, which matched the colour of her brothers, fell over her shoulder and brushed his face as she sat down. She offered the group a morning greeting and gave Harry a kiss before pouring herself a coffee.

I'm lucky to have such a beautiful, charismatic girlfriend. I should be grateful.

Now, looking at things clearly, some of the things that had given him joy before, didn't work quite as well recently. The fog in his mind caused by the horrors surrounding the previous year was now gone, revealing an ersatz happiness. He wanted some excitement back in his life.
Hermione and Ron were starting to argue over the importance of homework. Harry was about to weigh in when something nudged him hard from behind, causing him to spill his coffee over Ron's unfinished essay.
"Bloody hell, Harry!" Ron exclaimed "Now I've gotta start all over again!"
Harry straightened his round glasses, knocked askew by being bumped, and looked around for the culprit. He saw no other than Pansy Parkinson storming out the Great Hall with a face of thunder. When he turned to see what had made her so angry, he was met with the cool, grey eyes of Draco Malfoy.

Draco could feel his temper rising. The incessant flirtatious advances of Pansy Parkinson had been grinding down on his patience for days now. She had clearly ran out of questions to ask him yet she persisted regardless. He stared at his toast, toast he had buttered knowing full well he wasn't hungry, just so he could avoid eye contact. Draco had always just put up with Pansy constantly by his side, but lately she was just irritating. Everything had changed for him last year. Now that Voldemort had gone and his parents were in Azkaban, he had the chance to leave that life behind. Actually enjoy his life and make his own choices. Pansy was just a reminder of a time he'd much rather forget. Pansy shuffled closer in her seat, brushing her arm against his. Draco's stomach turned.

Is she thick? How many years has she been trying to get my attention? How many times have I, semi-politely, told her I'm not interested? That she's not my type? Is she really that fucking vain that she can't comprehend how badly she makes my skin crawl?

"Not hungry?" Pansy asked in a cheery tone that pushed Draco passed his limit.
"Obviously not!" he snapped, "Maybe it's from having to listen to your monotonous drivel all morning! Maybe it's the sexual suggestions you've been offering which have left me nausiated! Or maybe it's just seeing your face that's done it!"
She stared at him, completely thrown off her guard, then swiflty grabbed her things and left. Her pug face screwed up with his insult.
Draco continued looking at the toast. He didn't mean to be so harsh, but he didn't really care either. She'd get over it. If anything, he'd fucked himself over really. The only other person who so much as talked to him was Blaise Zabini and he was bound to take Pansy's side. Nobody else would even choose to share personal space with an ex Death Eater. His family name was in tatters, being a Malfoy meant nothing now.
A loud shout caught his attention at the Gryffindor table. That pathetic Weasley boy was stood up making a commotion about something, shaking a damp piece of parchment about. Then Draco dared to look at the boy who sat opposite the ginger lump. The tall, slim, dark haired boy turned to look at him. His vibrant green eyes bore into Draco like hot coals. He let himself keep staring, keep eye contact with this beautiful specimen. He kept looking until heat rose up from his chest and he could feel his cheeks start to blush.
Harry Potter had been an adversary since Draco had offered his friendship that first day on the train, only to be shunned and humiliated. He had never forgiven Potter for it. The famous Boy-Who-Lived had dismissed him, like trash, while he sat with Weasley and that Mudblood Granger. His hatred had soon become an obsession, so much effort went into making Potter miserable. He'd spread malicious lies, to both students and press. He'd cursed him, dressed as a dementor to terrify him and even went as far as to manufacture a collection of badges just to insult him. If he was honest with himself though, he never actually hated Potter. He just wasn't used to not getting what he wanted. He hated being rejected.
How long had he and Potter been staring at eachother now? He pushed his toast aside, and rushed out of the hall to return to the common room before anyone could see he's capable of showing emotion.

After the war was over, students from the seventh year were given the chance to attend another year and make up for the disruption of their education. There were very few students from each house who stayed on for the extra year, so rather than make extra room in each of the houses sleeping quarters, Headmistress McGonagle decided to make new quarters for the remaining students. This, unfortunately, meant all the houses were now mixed together. There had been very few problems so far, but it was far more tense arrangements than last year.
Harry found it easy enough to ignore Pansy and Blaise, but ignoring Malfoy was far more difficult. They had a feud that had years of history and with the parts Malfoy played in the battle against Voldemort, it only solidified Harry's hatred towards the lanky, blonde pure-blood. Sharing the common room with such a self righteous prick was starting to get to him. He couldn't walk through the room without being glared at, let alone sit in the comfy arm chairs by the fire like he used to. One would think the fact Harry had saved his life last year would be worth something. He never expected, or wanted, friendship but he had hoped for some sort of truce.
After the incident with Ron's essay at breakfast, the Gryffindor's decided to leave their efforts for now. Ginny departed back to the Gryffindor common room and Harry, Hermione and Ron headed back to their own. Harry couldn't help thinking about Malfoy on the walk back.

What the hell is his problem? It's not enough I have to deal with his glares in the common room, now he's giving me daggers over breakfast?

He decided he'd confront him. When he walked through that portrait hole and Malfoy gave his usual smirk, he would give him something to smirk about!
The trio reached the portrait and Hermione gave the password. Bubotuber. When they stepped through, Hermione and Ron headed straight to the dorms to put back their books and parchment. Harry went to take a seat by the fire, thinking the room was empty, only to come face to face with Malfoy himself. He was sat in an armchair that hid him from view when you walked in. Harry chose the arm chair opposite.
"What's your issue?!" Harry blurted out. Malfoy looked up, momentarily startled, then went back to his usual confident composure. "What would make you think I have an issue, Potter?" he responded, elegantly as ever.
Harry looked at Malfoy, whose mouth turned at the edge in a smirk.
"You always stare at me! You used to at least insult me, now you just stare! What's that about?"
"Well maybe I just can't resist looking at those pretty, pink lips of yours."
Harry froze.

Did he really just say that? Is Malfoy flirting with me? No, he couldn't be. It's just another way for him to piss me off, the slimy git.

"Don't mock me, Malfoy!"
"Who says I'm mocking?" he whispered, rising from his chair slowly and gliding over to Harry. He leant over, his hands leaning on the arms of the chair, his face now inches from Harry's. "What if I'm being honest?"
Harry felt his breath on his face as he said these words, the smell of coffee met his nostrils. It didn't disgust him, infact, it made his heart beat fast. They looked into eachothers eyes for what felt like a very long time, but could only have been mere seconds. The sounds of footsteps descending the stairs broke their gaze and Malfoy straightened up swiftly and left without another sound.

Ron stuffed his belongings back in the drawer of his bedside table, still aggravated. He took his robes off and examined the stains from the spilt coffee. He got his wand out, pointed it at the stain and said "Tergeo". The wand siphoned off the coffee leaving no evidence it had ever been there.

It's crazy how much I've improved since I started dating Hermione. She's bossy as hell but she's changed me for the better I guess.

He felt privileged to have finally got with Hermione after all these years. She was amazing at everything she put her mind to, where as Ron was convinced he would barely pass his N.E.W.T's. Now he had her, he couldn't imagine life without her.
After redressing, he headed downstairs, thinking about asking Harry if he wanted to play some wizards chess. He could do with cheering up and, since he always won, it would definitely help raise his spirits. As he reached the bottom step, he noticed the portrait swinging shut.
"Harry?" he called towards the door, presuming Harry had gotten fed up of waiting for them and left.
"Y-yeah?" stammered Harry from by the fire, clearing his throat.
"Oh... who just left?"
"Umm... Malfoy."
Ron noticed Harry was red in the face and breathing rather heavily. His spine straightened to the back of his seat and his hands gripping his knees.
"What happened? Did you fight?" he asked.
"No, no." Harry hastened to offer an explanation, there was a pause. "I'm just not feeling well, think I'll go take a nap." And with that he headed for the stairs, bumping into Hermione at the bottom and giving her a brief apology.
"What's with him..?" queried Hermione.
"Reckons he's not feeling well. Been acting funny since breakfast, probably didn't sit well with him."
Ron offered his beautiful, bushy haired girlfriend the crook of his arm and she accepted. Linking her arm with his, they left together.

Harry lay in his bed, curtains drawn, thinking over what had happened with Malfoy. It didn't make sense, he and Malfoy had been enemies since first year. How could there possibly be any truth in what he had said.

There couldn't, but... what was Malfoy getting from this. Sure it made me uncomfortable, unbelievably uncomfortable in fact, but he'd done far worse before. How could doing this be for his own benefit. Unless...

Harry wanted some excitement, could this be it? He had used needing a nap to avoid telling Ron what Malfoy had been saying but, now he was laying down in the privacy of his poster bed, he felt himself falling asleep.
A strange dream crept into his head while he napped. He was sitting studying with Ginny, his beautiful Ginny. She stood up and walked behind him, putting her hands down the front of his robes, caressing the soft skin on his chest. She kissed him sensually from his shoulder, up his neck, across his strong jaw bone. It didn't feel right.
"I'm sorry," he apologised, "I'm just not in the mood."
"What's the matter, Potter?" Came Malfoy's hushed voice next to his ear.
He spun round, shocked. Before he could say anything, Malfoy's mouth was on his. His soft, warm lips pushing firmly against him. He tried to back away but Malfoy's hand was on his neck, holding him in the embrace. He gave in to pleasure, opening his mouth to allow Malfoys tongue inside. His whole body ached and pulsed, specifically down south. Malfoy lowered him to the floor, pressing their hips against eachother and Harry could feel that Malfoy's body was reacting the same way. Harry began to shake.
"Scared, Potter?"
He woke with a jolt. Sweat beading on his forehead, his body still feeling the effects of the dream. Looking around, he noticed he hadn't pulled one of his bed curtains fully shut. Through the gap, he saw Malfoy was sat on his bed... smirking.