Draco had been dreaming. Dreaming. He was certain of it.

He had been trying to apologize to Harry, it was a dream he had quite often. But no matter how he begged and pleaded, no matter how loud or soft he was, Harry couldn't seem to hear him. And when he tried to bridge the distance between them, Draco found himself fixed in place, fighting against a pull as thick as tar. Then Harry would turn and walk away without ever having even seen him.

This time, though, something broke the spell holding him in place, a flash of bright light, and Harry was right there. He often had this dream as well, though, the two usually didn't occur during the same night. Draco had reached out to Harry and pulled him into his arms. The dream had been so vivid he could feel Harry's hair, smell his shampoo. He was so warm.

He was annoying as well, moving and touching and saying Draco's name over and over again like an insistent mantra which was strange. Even in his more indulgent dreams Harry only ever called him 'Malfoy'. He had a hard time fathoming any sort of scenario in which Harry Potter would call him by his first name, but he had, did, and kissed him. Draco could still see when he closed his eyes. It was burned into the back of his eyelids, the way Harry had looked at him, first fondly and then with hurt and betrayal as Draco said the wrong thing, the absolute perfect wrong thing to ruin everything and Blaise to finish the job.

"Holy fuck," Blaise said hoarsely, still watching Harry as he quickly grabbed his things from his trunk and disappeared into the bathroom. Around them, conversations were starting up and growing louder, filled with questions and conjecture. "Holy fuck!" Blaise sat on the edge of Draco's bed, pulling the curtains shut behind his back, muting some of the noise, "Did that just happen? I'm not hallucinating, am I? Because I feel like I must be hallucinating."

Draco stared blankly at Blaise's chest feeling vaguely like he was shattering very slowly from the inside out.

"Are you awake?" Blaise grabbed his shoulder, giving it a brief squeeze before going for a hearty shake.

Draco pushed his hand away, "You're not helping."

"Neither are you, my friend," Blaise said, more carefully pulling Draco up into a sitting position, "Was it a trick? A prank?"

Draco frowned.

"Not by Potter," Blaise said quickly with the wave of his hand, "He's not the type to be cruel. Someone else maybe." His voice dropped to something gentler, a tone he would only use around Draco and Pansy when they were alone, "If it were real you would have said something, wouldn't you?-"

"Blaise," Draco said weakly, trying to stop this conversation before it started.

"-You've been wanting him for-"

"Blaise." Draco said insistently, fumbling his wand out from under his pillow and casting a hasty muffling spell.

"-years now. If he even showed the slightest interest in you, you'd be all over him-"

"Must you?!"

"-like a dog in heat. Although, Pansy did think Potter's been watching you again so maybe-"

"I will hex you," Draco said flatly brandishing his wand.

Blaise's mouth snapped shut and he put his hands up in an exaggerated show of surrender, never losing his easy smile.

Draco slowly lowered his wand, wanting nothing more than to crawl back under his blankets, for the rest of his life, if possible.

"So what happened?" Blaise asked.

Draco sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose, "I was dreaming and at some point, the dream ended and Potter became reality."

"Just tell me, you sodding prat," Blaise said.

"Yes! Do tell!" Pansy said excitedly, slipping through the curtains and bouncing onto the bed next to Draco, she was wearing her school blouse, tie slung loosely around her neck, and a lavender pair of sleep pants covered in pastel green hearts. "I came as soon as I heard the rumours! Potter's in a complete state! His Weasel's completely blown his top, he'd gone so red you couldn't see his freckles!"

Blaise raised a hand, hovering it over Pansy's mouth, "Not now Pans, we've got to get the goods first."

Pansy nodded seriously. Blaise dropped his hand and they both turned to Draco expectantly.

Draco sighed, grabbing his pillow and squeezing it tightly to his chest, and told them everything he could remember.

The general consensus, once he was done, was that he had royally cocked up.

"But," Pansy said as they walked down to the dining hall for late breakfast, "even though it's totally fucked, you're still in a better position than you were before."

"How, in Merlin's name, is this any better than not saying the absolute wrong thing at the wrong time without being able to explain or apologize?" Draco said sulkily.

"Because, dumbass," Pansy said, bumping him with her shoulder, "before you thought you didn't have a snowflake's chance in hell and now you know Potter's interested."

"So long as he wasn't dosed with a love potion," Blaise said cheerfully.

"Shut. Up. Blaise," Pansy said icily. She shook her head with a huff, "You let me worry about love potions. You need to think about how you're going to apologize." She caught the sulking expression on Draco's face and grabbed hold of his arm so fiercely he was afraid her nails might cut right through his shirt, "You listen to me, Draco Malfoy," she hissed, jabbing a pointed nail in his face, "We did not suffer through six-goddamn-years of listening to you rant and moan about Potter for you to fuck this up. Do you understand me?"

Draco nodded because there was no other option in the face of Pansy's wrath.