One morning, a week or so after the incident in the library, Draco was woken up by a loud chorus of voices in the common room. He grumbled, rolled over, and checked the time on his wrist-watch, which was lying on the table beside his bed. He was appalled to see it was before six in the morning. He dropped the watch back on the table, too tired to really care what they were all awake for, and he flipped onto his stomach and closed his eyes, attempting to fall asleep again. Unfortunately, the cacophony of voices below was far too loud. Draco had always been a light sleeper. He groaned into the pillow and, figuring there was no other option, forced himself out of bed.

Draco winced as his bare feet touched the cold wooden floor. Goose bumps crawled up his arms. He impulsively wrapped them around himself. For Merlin's sake, he thought, you would think a bloody magic school would have proper heating! He glanced around the room, coming to terms with his surroundings. The windows were wide open, which might explain the chilliness. Also, as Draco could've predicted from the ruckus downstairs, his dormitory had been entirely deserted.

Draco lumbered to the post of his bed, where he'd hung a couple of sweaters. He grabbed his favorite old gray one and pulled it over the white T-shirt he'd worn to bed, probably making his bed-head all the worse in the process. He was too exhausted to care much, so he simply slipped on his trainers, though they looked pretty funny paired with his green striped PJ pants, and declared himself ready enough to investigate.

As he headed down to the common room, and his mind grew less hazy, he started to recognize the voices as sounding excited. Draco didn't know how he felt about this. On one hand, no one was being attacked, it seemed. But on the other, a lot of things kids his age got excited about were things he didn't give a crap about, for one of quite a few reasons.

He entered into the common room, and was struck by the amount of people crowded into the room, certainly many more than usual for this hour in the morning. Like him, many of them were still in their pajamas, and they were all gathered around the board in the room used as a place to post school notices.

Suddenly, it hit Draco what was going on. He recognized the signs, and there could only be one explanation: Quidditch season had arrived.

A surge of adrenaline coursed through his veins, and he strode into the room, among the masses. He made his way to the bulletin board, elbowing a few indignant younger students out of the way. Sure enough, there it was in big, bold letters. From around the room you could hear people murmuring about it. Try-outs were the coming Saturday, and as it was with each year, the Slytherins were eager to get started. They were ready to play, and, of course, ready to kick the Gryffindor team's ass. Draco, as he listened, heard all the typical conversations that came with this notice. First and second years insisting they were geniuses at Quidditch, and that they would surely make it on the team because "hey, if Potter did it, anyone could!" Older students proclaimed the skill of this year's team captain, and stated their confidence that this year's team would be unbeatable.

Draco, who had always been thrilled at the competitive rush Quidditch gave him, found himself considerably less animated at that prospect than in previous years. Draco had never been passionate about Quidditch, but he did enjoy it as a hobby. His father had pushed him into it at a young age, considering it good discipline and a necessary practice for any boy of character. It was lucky Draco liked Quidditch, or he would've been miserable. His father took him to countless games, bought him the best brooms, and, in Draco's 2nd year, secured Draco the slot as seeker on the Slytherin team. There was a good chance Draco would've gotten on the team anyway, as his extensive training provided what he lacked in natural talent. To his father's delight, Draco grew to be quite a good flyer. Still, Lucius needed insurance, and Draco didn't argue with that. After all, above anything he wished to be on the team because of Potter. Potter had been on his house team since their first year, and he had natural-born talent. Draco was jealous, so not only did he join the team, he also insisted on being seeker, just like Potter. His father's insurance had guaranteed him any slot he wanted, so he took on the role, eager to beat Potter at his own game. However, this year Draco, for whatever reason, wasn't feeling so compelled to try out at all. Maybe it was his overall exhaustion, coupling from his overlarge workload and his..other concerns. Maybe…

In the midst of all the excitement, Draco also gained intelligence that Harry Potter was the new Gryffindor team captain. He was momentarily surprised at this, but then he came to figure it was inevitable Potter would be chosen for that role after Oliver Wood, the previous captain, graduated. What with Dumbledore's favoritism towards Potter and his, it pained Draco to admit it, considerable skill in Quidditch, Draco supposed he should have expected nothing less.

Then, without thinking much about it, Draco grabbed the quill levitating near the bulletin board, and he scratched his name on the try-out sheet. He took a deep breath, stepped back to survey his signature, and headed back to his dormitory. All the while, he wondered at what compelled him to sign up again. Draco had been hesitant to rejoin the team, but now…he didn't know. He thought it might be because he liked Quidditch too much to give it up, but he knew better than anyone that wasn't the truth. He didn't need Quidditch, and there were more important things to concentrate on this year. He then thought his change of heart might be because his father would be so disappointed in him if he gave it up. Lucius himself had played keeper for Slytherin back in the day, and besides wanting his son to continue his legacy, he also considered a life as a servant of the Dark Lord no excuse for quitting anything, as he had handled his job at the Ministry along with his Death Eater duties for years. However much Draco wanted to believe this was the source behind his change of heart, he was forced to disprove it as such. Draco hadn't been thinking of his father at all in the Common Room. There was only one other explaination and Draco didn't like it: Harry Potter. Draco's stomach sank. No, he thought, why would I want to see Potter more anyway? I see enough of him in Potions already.

Draco trudged back up the stairs and into the dormitory, which was still empty, and he flopped on his bed. He closed his eyes, but his thinking kept him awake. He couldn't get Potter off his mind.

Potions isn't nearly as bad as I expected, he forced himself to admit. In the weeks since they had been pronounced "Potions Partners", Draco and Harry had actually continued to get along. They worked together diligently and were often remarked upon by Slughorn for their good work, although admittedly much of their potion-making success stemmed from Harry's secondhand textbook. Besides that though, Draco found himself actually enjoying his time spent working with Harry. The wall had been torn down between them, their relationship had changed, and they both realized it, on some level or another. Though they did not speak of it, neither had forgotten Amiradus. Nor had Draco forgotten about the words Harry spoke from his dream, and that was something he was even less likely to bring up. Gone were the name-calling, the jinxes, and the general cruelty that had long defined the two. There was still snarkiness, still teasing on both ends, but Draco had grown to enjoy their banter. It was a game the two of them played.

Also, Draco was talking, not arguing or insulting or threatening, to Harry for the first time. During Potions they really got an opportunity to have conversations, and Draco was realizing that the more he talked with Harry, the better he liked him. This scared Draco. Usually he didn't like people very much, and in most cases the more he got to know someone the less he wanted to. Harry Potter was different, because with every period, every hour, every minute they spent together, every passing glance in the halls, Draco wished for another. Every moment spent with Harry he wanted to double.

It was driving him mad.

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