Chapter Two: Dreams and Nightmares

I awoke with a rush, climbing to my feet quickly as that familiar feeling of falling settled around me like some sort of protective blanket. It was horrible when the realization of falling and failing were my only sources of normalcy. I wouldn't know how to live if that fact weren't true. To be stable seemed too foreign, too average for my own world. Anything different could not be accepted.

My breathing was labored as I reminded myself of where exactly I had ended. I wondered idly if by some cruel trick of fate that this was all a dream or a nightmare rather. But, taking note of the burning sensation in my forearm, I concluded that this could never be my mind playing fowl tricks, this was reality now. Each day was its own disaster that I would have to live through or die trying.

The latter of the two seemed the easiest.

Luckily, or however you choose to see it, my slight bladder problem had gotten in the way of my self-mourning and I left the claustrophobic room to locate a bathroom.

The Boy-Wonder had forgotten to give me some sort of tour in this maze. How convenient.

Rounding what seemed to be the fifteenth corner, I located something along the lines of a lavatory. The fact that it had the word 'Women' stamped to its front caused me no alarm and I barged in, only to meet a rather confused red-haired Weaselbe.

"Draco Malfoy?" she squeaked, even though I hadn't actually entered the ladies room. "What are you doing here?"

"Please, Weasley let me pass before I have an accident in this hallway."

"What are you doing trying to get into my bathroom?"

"Oh, you own the girl's bathroom? That's fitting of someone of your class and all, but I can't find the men's and I feel as though I can lower myself enough just this once to use your facilities."

She glared with what I knew attempted to be daggers, but it was futile. Not a cut to be found to this day.

"Malfoy," she hissed through clenched teeth. "I'll do my best to accommodate you here. Each room has its own bathroom. It would be in your best interest not to wander here. You aren't exactly a favorite guest."

I know that. "And I suppose you are?" I challenged, not knowing exactly why. It was obvious that any Weasley was welcomed.

"Well, considering I'm more or less Harry's girlfriend, I would consider myself a very favorite guest, if you're following me."

Continuing to hold her gaze, with as much grace as I could muster, I crossed my arms over my chest and allowed my eyes to say what I couldn't.

She brushed past me with a devilish smirk, "Watch yourself, Malfoy."

And with that, she was gone, off to do some sort of Weasel mischief no doubt. The family was entirely too loony for their own good and if it was at all possible in this overly cramped home, I wouldn't find myself associating with them at all.

It seemed difficult to ostracize myself from the entire house. It wasn't as if I weren't alone my entire life. Mentally, not physically. I'd always had my 'minions' so to speak. I had always had professors and nannies, and tutors to make sure I received the greatest of educations. I suppose friends didn't exist in the truest form, but friendship requires trust and who better to trust than yourself? Who could compare?

I relieved myself, verbally making reminders that not all of the Weasley family was diseased and I more than likely had not contracted something with the use of their toilet.

Realizing a little too late that this place was much too confusing to wander in alone, I stopped trying to find the room I had awakened in and sat against the wall nearest me. Sitting was probably my greatest idea yet today, and I found that even after my unknown allotted hours of sleep, I was still incredibly exhausted.

The running was catching up with me.

My eyes were falling slowly until the rumble of my stomach caught my attention. I hadn't eaten since two days before this, my nerves getting the better of me before failing. My insides felt as though they were attempting a mass cannibalistic ritual and I was the sacrifice.

A rather boisterous clock, struck ten times, enlightening me of the hour.

It was no wonder that I could hardly stand, I'd slept the entire day away, missing every meal imaginable. But, my insides wouldn't tolerate that.

Willing myself to stand, I followed a path I didn't know down three flights of steps and into a rather large room. I suspected it was some kind of meeting hall, or eating hall, or some kind of gathering room. But, what was more pressing at the moment was the location of the kitchens.

A smell erupted into the room like a thousand year dormant volcano to my nostrils. My nose led the way and before I could retreat, I found myself standing behind a man, facing a stove and humming something inaudible, a delightful sizzle providing accompaniment to his song.

My mouth unconsciously began to water while my eyes closed, drinking in the indescribable scent.

"Malfoy?" someone asked.

"Hm?" I responded, still trapped within my own sensations.

"Malfoy, what are you doing?"

My eyes ripped open, finally recognizing the voice. "I was famished Potter and proceeded to leave our room to eat. I hadn't realized that this place was practically impossible without a map."

"Well, you're welcome to eat with me, I've made plenty and as for earlier, I thought you could still use the rest, you look terrible."

Why, of all the rude, impolite, ghastly things to say! I most certainly did not look anywhere near terrible.

I sneered and regained composure. "Speaking of terrible, what is that dish that we're going to be eating?"

Looking down at his pan, his eyebrow quirked. "It's bacon Malfoy, you've never had it?"

I shook my head, not realizing how ridiculous the fact was. I'd heard that bacon was fattening, and I wasn't allowed the food at my technical home.

He smiled then, a kind of smile I thought would be equivalent to a child on Christmas holiday, finally receiving the toy he'd waited for all year. I wasn't sure, but I could imagine.

"Then you are in for something. Go sit down, I'll bring it out when I'm done."

I turned to leave, before my judgment had gotten the better of me and suspected something of a plot against the Death Eater.

Potter seemed to notice, but still did not turn away from his project.

"You can trust that I won't poison your food. I swear that you're as safe as any of my other guests when you're around me."

I nodded once and left the kitchens, wondering how he had known about my sudden fear, and ignored the idea immediately when some kind of concoction was brought out.

"It's a BLT, a muggle sandwich. I really think you'll-."

No sooner did the plate touch the table did I begin eating, probably looking like a pig, I finished the sandwich in six bites, noting that I hadn't let Potter finish his sentence and declaring that I didn't care by not asking him after I was through with my minor condition of self eating.

To my surprise, the Gryffindor didn't mock my obviously starved reaction. He ate beside me in silence. Not an awkward quiet, but an expected one.

"So, I trust you slept well," he stated assumingly.

I shrugged. "I suppose it could have been worse."

The silence continued. What were two boys who could hardly be considered acquaintances talk about? I reasoned that that answer was absolutely nothing.

He stood when finished, taking my plate from beneath me and disappeared through the kitchen doors. I could hear the water from the sink running and rolled my eyes at the thought of Potter washing like a muggle. How utterly plebian.

After returning, he cleared his throat and brushed his messy locks from his forehead, giving me the briefest glimpses of his most famous scar. A chill ran through my spine without permission, and I tensed.

"Something the matter, Malfoy?"

Leave it to Potter to notice even the slightest discomfort.

"I'm fine." My teeth clenched, making my jaw rigid. "Thank you for the dinner." Without the hiss, it could have been friendly, but thanking anyone was so normally out of the picture for me.

Potter grinned again and stuffed his hands into the pockets of his denims.

"It's not a problem. You could probably use a few pounds anyway and I hardly ever cook with healthy intentions."

Was he insinuating that I was too thin? The nerve of that parentless barbarian! I wasn't thin, I was lean, and there is quite the difference.

"Do you think you need help finding the room again?"

"Yes," I answered with minimal hiss. Accepting help from Potter was one thing, but continuing to need him for such mundane tasks seemed ludicrous.

It seemed as though Potter knew this building like the backs of his hands.

"It kind of reminds me of Hogwarts," he said suddenly, reaching the top of the third floor. "All the secret passages, the way the different rooms seem to come from nowhere."

I agreed wordlessly and continued to watch Potter's footsteps. He walked strangely. Not like the klutzy first year I'd remembered in a somewhat fond way. No, now he strutted with a boy's confidence. There was play in his step, something that reminded me of a childhood I'd never had, and judging his recent history, a childhood he probably couldn't remember.

"Not that I mind muggles, I grew up with them. But, it's nice to live here. It's nice to have somewhere where you're not the 'freak.' We're all the same."

A tone of relief lingered in his voice, and I wondered for the smallest moment about his personal life. Surely it was something of fairytales. He being the hero and all, he must have had the life of dreams. He probably grew up on a rainbow, judging by his always so pleasant character. Sure, he always had a short temper, but I was never one to not exploit a minor weakness.

"Here we are."

I was certain that I still knew of no way to find this place, but as long as Potter kept at a close distance, I probably wouldn't lose myself.

I entered first and crossed the room, sitting at the edge of my bed. I wasn't tired. I'd slept an entire day away.

I turned to find Potter summoning a door to a bathroom I hadn't known existed earlier.

"Oh, I'll leave this here from now on. Until they give you your wand back and you can bring it up yourself."

"Why do you hide it in the first place?"

"I don't know. I like having a solid room I guess."

I suppose that was some kind of response.

Potter emerged from the hidden room in a pair of pajama bottoms tied loosely around his hips, the bones jutting out just enough to notice. And he thought I was thin.

Well, it wasn't as if the tangled haired git was too thin. He had a build that was perfect for a Seeker, aerodynamic, built for speed. He only seemed fitter than I because of the slight tan to his skin.

"If you need something to change into, the drawers are charmed, just tell them what you want and they'll most likely have it. Clothing that is."

"I think I'll have a bath actually."

That idea sounded perfect as I peeled back the clothing I had been wearing for nearly two days now. It was only then that I noticed the smell I was carrying around with me throughout the day. Disgusting.

The bathroom was rather large in my judgment, holding two shower stalls and a tub about half the size of the prefect tubs at Hogwarts.

Warm water always seemed to keep me relaxed for a few minutes. And I was nothing if not on edge at that moment.

While soaking, my muscles had gone nearly lax and I was able to analyze the situation at hand.

There was no doubt that the other Death Eaters were looking for me, and if they hadn't figured out exactly where I'd hidden, they would find me. It was only a matter of how long until they did. This Light side was made of students and a few rebellious adults. They couldn't come close to comparing to the raw power of Voldemort and his followers. I hoped that the people of this side weren't as mindless as the others. Voldemort could make them do anything without asking. He'd done horrible things, in front of me, to me. But, the worst, I couldn't even begin to imagine.

For now though, I was safe. And as the water cooled around me, I understood that my protection was as limited as this warm water. Time was fleeting, and no one but me cared if I lived or died. I had to do something, and soon.

Wrapping a towel around my waist, I tiptoed back into the bedroom and noticed a sleeping Gryffindor. He was so vulnerable in that moment, so easy to defeat, and if I had wanted to, I could have made this the end of him.

Instead though, I whispered for a pair of green pajama bottoms and boxers. The drawer opened with what I'd asked for and I settled after changing onto the bed. The full moon lit the room entirely in an eerie glow while Harry stirred.

From the small whimpers, I deducted that he wasn't a sound sleeper. I wondered if his nightmares were at all like my own. No, they couldn't be. I'm sure he dreamed in peace, while I dreamed of struggle, survival. Terrible things plagued my nights. It was only after extreme exhaustion that I could escape the nightmares.

I would resist sleep for days at a time if I knew it led to a dreamless unconscious state.

The Boy Who Lived finally settled with a rather loud sigh. I looked over to find he had kicked most of his blankets away and held his arms atop of his eyes. It was a curious thing to see. He hadn't wanted to be trapped, but he was still attempting to hide. Very strange indeed.

I began to count the seconds and listen to Potter's mostly even breathing.

I wouldn't sleep at all that night.