Rather unnecessary disclaimers: I am not receiving any monetary gain from this and do not own anything in the Harry Potter world. JKR did not write this plot.

Warning: slash (meaning boy on boy action for those of you who are out of the loop)

Hope you enjoy it!

Chapter 4

I didn't realize one could shower for so long without having drowned until I sent Malfoy up to bathe. I had been standing in the corridor with some spare clothes to lend him for half an hour when he finally strolled out.

"What are those?" he asked rudely, towel around his waist.

I glared at him. Why was he so offensive when I was only trying to help him? Well I wasn't going to have it. I tossed the clothing at him, "Go naked if you'd prefer. I just thought you'd like something more than those rags you came here wearing." The things he had been wearing before the shower really were just a couple of dirty rags, though they looked as though they had once been his usual expensive attire. He must have worn the same outfit the entire time he was escaping the Death Eaters.

He rolled his eyes and took my clothes. I went back to my bedroom and decided to write letters for both Ron and Hermione. Hedwig hadn't yet returned from her trip to Professor Dumbledore, but I wanted something to do that could distract me from the annoying arsehole that was Malfoy.

I was halfway through my letter to Ron when Malfoy came sauntering in – which was extremely funny since he was wearing my oversized, hand-me-down, muggle clothing. He seemed unable to drop his regal demeanor, even then. I laughed out loud.

"It's not as though you look any better!" he shot at me.

"That's. not. what I'm. laughing at," I could barely get out since I was falling over myself laughing as he stomped his foot on the ground.

"Fuck off, Potter," he mumbled, sounding embarrassed.

After that, we passed the day in mostly amicable silence. He made the occasional insult, but it always sounded half-hearted. He spent the day reading my Potions textbook to prepare for sixth year while I did various normal things, generally ignoring him. I finished my letter to Ron and then wrote one for Hermione, refinished my broomstick with my broomstick care kit, cleaned up around Hedwig's cage, made us food when I heard Malfoy's stomach rumbling again, and started working on some of my own work for sixth year.

I realized something then, "Malfoy?" I said to get his attention.

"Yes, Pot-head?" he drawled. I actually kind of enjoyed his drawl.

"How will you afford Hogwarts this year without your parents?" I questioned.

He delicately picked at his nails while answering, "The Malfoy fortune is not controlled by my parents. All Malfoys, Malfoys by blood mind you, have access to the Malfoy vaults in Gringotts. Although I suppose it would not be wise of me to be visiting the vaults since that is to be expected. There could be a Death Eater waiting there for me, of course. I brought some gold with me when I ran, so I have that for the mean time; either way, Severus will help me if I need more."

"Why would he help you?" I asked in return.

"Because he is my Godfather and he is the spy for the muggle side," he sneered.

"He told you that?" I was surprisingly interested. I had never trusted Snape and it was odd to me that anyone else could.

"Of course he didn't tell me that. I found out through my own cleverness, obviously."

"Right," it was my turn to roll my eyes.

I yawned and looked at the clock. The day had passed rather quickly, to my surprise. (I expected any time spent with Malfoy to be slow and torturous.)

"I'm heading to bed then," I told him. He was currently sitting on said bed and made no motion to move. "That means you need to get off of it," I stated bluntly.

He smirked with a raised eyebrow, "I'm not sleeping on the floor."

"Yes you are."

"Make me," he challenged.

So I did. He was definitely a tad bit taller than I was, but I was slightly bigger. This was partially because he was half starved, so maybe that's what gave me the advantage. But maybe it was because I had the element of surprise on my side.

Either way, I lunged at him, toppled him over, and shoved him onto the ground. His butt made a loud and comical flomp noise as he landed on the floor.

He stood up, looking imperious as he did so, and tried to leap back onto my bed. Over and over he tried this, however, I was too quick for him. I pushed him back every time, and just when I started to get too tired to continue, he flopped down onto the make-shift blanket bed that I had set up for him.

"I hate you," he hissed.

I laughed in return. He was always so sour when he lost.

I guess I was worn out at our little scuffle, because I fell into a deep sleep rather quickly.

But I suddenly found myself in a musty corridor and I couldn't remember how I had gotten there.

It was dark, so I couldn't see much around me, but it didn't seem there was much to see: I was in what looked like a dungeon. I didn't dwell in the musky corridor for long though. I felt to my core that something was wrong, that I had something important – more important than anything – to do. I briskly walked toward a large wooden door. I could hear some sort of commotion on the other side. I leant my head against it – it was quite cold.

"-become my servant, Draco," I heard a man hiss. I knew that voice: it was a voice with the blackest of intents. My entire body felt rigid just hearing his icy tongue.

I listened as hard as I could on the door, "I will," I heard Draco say. Voldemort responded with a maniacal laugh.

"As I expected." I heard a pause, then, "Crucio!"

Draco Malfoy's screams reverberated down the dungeon. It was gut-wrenching, hearing Malfoy crying so desperately. I desired more than anything to stop those screams, to release him from that pain.

Unsure of my plan, I burst through the wooden door into the dank dungeon room where Voldemort was torturing my school-yard enemy.

Voldemort looked up at me when I ran in, "Aha – so Harry Potter has finally arrived. Are you here to rescue this traitor, perchance?" he grinned malevolently.

Malfoy was sobbing on the ground. His face was whiter than I had ever seen it and covered in a gleam of sweat. He looked on at me with fear clouding his eyes. His limbs were sticking out at odd angles, yet he seemed too injured and worn to correct his position.

"Well, I'm sorry to disappoint you, Harry Potter, but this traitor must be punished for his treachery. Draco Malfoy must die," Voldemort's eyes glinted with excitement as he raised his want, "Avada Kedavra!" he shouted, wand pointed straight at Malfoy's heart.

I screamed as the bright green light lit up the dungeon.

"Nooo! God no!"

I awoke with Draco Malfoy nearly on top of me. He was shaking my shoulders in a frenzy, his stormy, grey eyes wide with fear. I was painfully reminded of his petrified last look at me just before…

"Potter, wake up!" he pleaded. It sounded like he had been repeating that phrase for a bit now. My scar was pulsating madly. It felt white-hot – it was almost blinding me.

"I.." my voice was hoarse, it felt like from screaming. "I'm awake," I croaked.

Malfoy still looked apprehensive. "You scared the shit out of me, scarhead," he was breathy with what sounded like relief.

I winced from the pain coming from my "scarhead" again.

"Sorry," I mumbled. I was embarrassed and wanted to just forget about the nightmare. But it wasn't just a nightmare, was it? Why would my scar hurt if it wasn't real? It obviously wasn't real: Malfoy was fine and right in front of me. I couldn't take my eyes off him though. It was silly, but I was afraid he would disappear into that chilly dungeon if I wasn't careful to keep close contact with him.

"Are you alright?" he asked nervously. I must have really scared him if he was nervous. Malfoy rarely acted anything but self-confident when talking to me.

"Yeah," I replied, but I didn't motion for him to move away from me. Instead, I held his eyes with mine. I noticed that one of his hands was still placed on my shoulder. It felt warm, comforting. I couldn't let what happened in my dream become reality. "Are you alright?" I asked him carefully.

He smirked a little, "I wasn't the one flailing around, screaming bloody murder in the middle of the night, Potter. You're weirder than I thought. I dream about butterbeer and cauldron cakes." It was surreal to hear him joking when I could have sworn he was dying just a couple of minutes prior. I preferred a joking Malfoy to a tortured one, however, so I settled for staring at him a bit longer.

His eyes were surprisingly more subtle than I had ever given credit for. They were a gloomy gray, and it was like looking up after rain: there were mostly swirls of bitter clouds, but mixed in here and there was just a speck of sky blue. It was easy to become absorbed in Draco Malfoy's intense eyes.

He started to look uncomfortable, so I looked away, but remained in the same half-sitting position I had adopted upon waking.

"Well," he looked around the room, trying to find a focus for his speech, "I'm going to try to get some more sleep now that you are done shouting."

I let him crawl out of my bed back down to the floor, but kept my eyes on him. I could tell when he fell back asleep since his breathing evened out into a heavier, slower pattern.

I didn't go back to sleep that night.

Instead, I watched Draco Malfoy until the sun rose, just to make sure he was still there.

Yeesh… I wanted to put this chapter up a couple weeks ago, but I have been so busy with midterms! Luckily my last one was today, so I have ample time to write now - as long as I don't get lazy, that is.

(I've written up through chapter thirteen so far, but I don't want to post more until I've written more so I can stay ahead.)