2 - Everything I Wanted

Horntails weren't the most forgiving creatures. The same dragon from this afternoon had snuck into the Gryffindor dorm and was making a mess of pillows and bed sheets. It was looking for Potter. She had to be somewhere in here. There was only one bed left standing. Was it hers? The dragon's spiked tail swung toward the bed, knocking it over and ripping apart the curtains.

A panicked scream. It sounded like a girl… Was it Potter? The tip of a wand lit up and her face became visible. She seemed to have trouble getting up. Well, it seemed like this was finally the end of her. It was her own fault for always being this self-righteous and annoying.

"Help! Please someone help me!" She yelled. Help her? Why would anyone help her? She had brought this on herself. It was the dragon who should be cheered on.

"Help!" Her voice was filled with panic. She was waving about her wand desperately as the dragon opened its jaws and released an earsplitting roar. For some reason her wand didn't seem to work. Then her eyes suddenly found his. Pleading. Panicked. Scared. Help, she mouthed.

But then everything shifted. He was taller and much closer to the remains of the bed. And the dragon… was gone. He looked around the room. Where was it? He spotted its tail behind him and… why were there claws where his hands had been before?

He was the dragon.

And he was still stalking closer to the girl. No. What was going on? Why? Why couldn't he stop walking? Why?

He glanced at the girl that was much tinier than him now, feeling almost as panicked as she had moments before.

But she didn't look panicked any more now. Far from it. There was determination in her eyes. And defiance. "Isn't that what you wanted?" She asked calmly, while he felt his mouth open and his insides start to burn. No, he thought, when the fire filled up his throat. No!

But then a wave of flames rolled out past his teeth and there was fire all around. No! He didn't want that! He didn't want to kill anyone. He didn't want her to die like this. He didn't want her to die. Where was she? There were only flames dancing around him. Mocking him. Isn't that what you wanted?

And then the fire died down. Abruptly. As if it had never been there. And Potter was gone as well. As if she had never been there.

…

"No!" Draco woke up, completely tangled up in his sheets and breathing heavily. Where was the fire? Where was the dragon? Where was–? Potter. Where was she?

"I'm not a dragon," he whispered to himself, touching his scaleless fingers and making sure he didn't have a tail. Right. It had been a dream. Just a stupid dream. The stupid Gryffindor was probably lying inside her bed and dreaming of her sweet victory. He should just lie back down, close his eyes and try to dream of something less nerve-racking. So, he did just that, pulling up his sheets and pressing his eyes closed.

Isn't that what you wanted? The girl had been waiting just behind his eyelids. He sat up again, eyes wide open. He didn't want to see her go up in flames once more. One could only take so much horror. With a sigh, Draco let his head sink back against the headboard. And suddenly he wondered… what if it wasn't a dream? What if the dragon really had come back for her? To finish her off? What if… it had been him? But that was stupid, right? He wasn't a blasted dragon! But then… why had it felt so real? So frighteningly real?

He slipped out of bed, cursing that damned dream. It wasn't like he was going to be able to get any more sleep tonight anyway.

…

On the way to the seventh floor, Draco almost got caught by a teacher three times. Well four times if you counted his encounter with Filch, who'd been doing who-knew-what in the girls' bathroom on the third floor. It was the middle of the night! Why weren't those teachers asleep like normal people? Why aren't you asleep?, asked a voice in his head. It sounded mocking. He shook it off. He had a completely legitimate reason for being out of bed. He wasn't keen on a visit to Azkaban. And it would be a long visit, if he'd really killed someone. So, of course he had to make sure that wasn't the case. And if it was the case he had to get rid of the body. But that was a different story. And completely unlikely. Right?

He'd reached the seventh floor now. There was the portrait of that Fat Lady that kept non-Gryffindors from getting inside their common room. Non-Gryffindors like him. Well, shit. He hadn't thought that far. Maybe he could talk the lady into letting him in? He cleared his throat, in order to catch her attention. She appeared to be sleeping. Wasn't she supposed to keep watch? He cleared his throat once more. Nothing happened.

"Wake up, you useless portrait!"

The lady in the portrait opened one sleepy eye and glared and him.

"Who dares to wake me in the middle of the-" She took a closer look at him (with both eyes). "You don't look familiar."

Draco snorted. "Let me in." He ordered, trusting his inherent Malfoy aura of authority.

"That's not the password." The Fat Lady rolled her eyes and placed her hands on her hips.

He groaned. Password? Well, how difficult could it be? Surely, those dumb Gryffindors couldn't remember complicated words. They probably also thought they'd be able to defend themselves if anyone suspicious marched into their common room. Fools.

"Godric Gryffindor?" He tried.

The Fat Lady snorted. "Nice try."

"Bravery? Stupidity? Vanity?"

She shook her head.

"Red? Gold? Glory? Honour?"

"No, no, no and no."

Damn. This was harder than he'd thought.

"Broomstick, quidditch, Defence Against the Dark Arts. Recklessness!"

The lady in the portrait started to chuckle. "Is that what you think of Gryffindors?"

"Why d'you think-? I just forgot the password. That's all."

She lifted an eyebrow.

"It's true! Someone hexed me, changed my appearance and did something to my memory. I'm – uh… Longbottom. Neville Longbottom." Draco cringed at his lack of originality. Well, at least he'd chosen the identity of a pureblood.

"Is that so?"

"Yes!"

"Then who was the other Neville Longbottom I saw earlier tonight?"

Shit. Why would she remember every single student she saw in a day?

"You probably confused him," he drawled dismissively.

"I don't think I did. He forgot the password as always." The lady sighed deeply. It seemed like he had chosen the worst possible name he could have.

"That was probably the person who hexed me. Sounds like a Slytherin. You have to let me in and catch him. Who knows what he's planning!" If that wasn't a clever argument he didn't know what was.

The Fat Lady sent him a long and assessing look. "To me it sounds like you're describing yourself. Could have fooled me. But… you don't even know the password. If you had been a bit more clever you would have followed your own plan and made sure you found out the password first of all."

Draco glared at her darkly. This wasn't going to work. He needed a different plan. Could he bribe her? But how? What could he use to bribe a portrait? Maybe…

"As expected, someone as clever and beautiful as you sees right through me." He made his voice sound smooth and flattering. He was good at that.

The lady seemed almost pleased. Was it working?

"I shouldn't have attempted to fool someone as insightful as you."

"You're quite the charmer, aren't you?" She chuckled, curling her finger around one of her locks. "Why don't you tell me why you're really here, and I'll see what I can do?"

The truth? She wanted to hear the truth? Would that get him anywhere? Unlikely. Unless…

"There's a fire! Inside one of the dorms. I've seen it from outside."

"A fire?"

Draco nodded.

"Why didn't you tell a teacher? What were you even doing outside at this hour?"

"I – how is this important? There's a fire! People are in danger!"

"I heard you clearly the first time."

"Then why – what are you waiting for?"

The Fat Lady gave a deep sigh. Then she walked right out of her portrait.

She was back in less than a minute, giving him a dismissive wave. "You can go now. There is no fire."

"What? No fire?"

"No."

"What about signs of a fight?"

"What are you talking about?" She frowned. "No. Nothing like that. Did you have a bad dream?"

"What?"

"A bad dream, a nightmare?"

"I..." He shook his head slowly. "No… I…"

"You should go back to your dorm, my boy. Get some sleep." The Fat Lady advised, giving him a sympathetic glance.

Damn it. There was no way she was going to let him inside now. But why did he still want to get inside? She'd told him that nothing had happened. There had been neither a fire nor a dragon attack. He'd only had a dream and been too stupid to shake off the remnants of it.

"Off with you, now." She made a shooing gesture and left him no choice but to trudge back down the hall. But instead of climbing down the stairs, he slipped into an alcove with a small bench that hid him from unwanted eyes. He could simply wait for another chance.

At some point the Gryffindors had to come out of their dorm, right? He would slip inside then unnoticed. Then, he'd finally be able to check with his own eyes. To erase that horrifying image from his memory. The image of her scared face lit up by flames.

Isn't that what you wanted? Isn't that what you wanted? Isn't that what you…

His eyes felt so heavy all of a sudden. So heavy…

…

Laughter startled him back into consciousness.

"– brilliant! I tell you, the Triwizard Cup is already as good as ours!" A group of second or first years made their way past his alcove, sending him curious glances. Was it morning already? Had he fallen asleep? On a bench? He still remembered bits and pieces of a dream… Fire, claws, the smell of smoke, a panicked scream… a girl… a sea of flames and then… nothing. His heart was beating twice as fast, every thrum hitting his chest with the force of a hammer.

Draco jumped to his feet and raced past the confused Gryffidiots. Someone was coming out of the portrait door. It was about to close. But maybe he could still… The door closed with a definite click. He barely managed not to crash into the person who'd left the common room. Two girls. Pretty ones. Weren't they from his year? Maybe he could ask them about the fire?

"Wait – I –" He started to say, when the door opened another time. He was caught between trying his luck with the door or interrogating the girls… What to do? What would be less suspicious?

".. won't get easier. You need to be even better prepared this time." That was Granger's voice. She was stepping out of the portrait hole now. Along with the weasel and…

Her. She looked just the same as usual. No scratches or marks on her face. Her unruly black hair no longer muddied or streaked with blood. And her hand seemed to be okay as well.

She was alive.

It felt like a bubble was bursting inside him, filling him up with a strange relief that washed away all feelings of guilt or panic or fear.

"I see you're still among the living." He scoffed, trying to ignore these overwhelming feelings.

"Sorry to disappoint you." She replied mockingly.

"It is disappointing." He sighed dramatically. "To think that dragon missed its chance to get rid off you. Well, one can dream, right?"

"Shut your filthy mouth, Malfoy!" The weasel piped up. What a nuisance he was.

"I don't waste my time talking to sidekicks, Weasley." He sneered derisively.

"Say that again, you bastard!" He was already turning red. It made him look even more stupid. Was he hard of hearing? He'd just said he didn't waste his time –

"Don't waste your time," the know-it-all said. "He's just bitter because Haley won and he'd never be brave enough to fight a dragon."

"You're wrong." He sneered at her. "I'd never be foolish enough."

Potter had the audacity to roll her eyes. "Come on guys. I'm starving. We should at least give him the chance to change before starting a fight, shouldn't we?"

Change? What-? Draco glanced down at himself only to notice that he was still wearing his silk pyjamas beneath his morning robes. How embarrassing. He felt heat rush into his cheeks when the Gryffindors started laughing.

"Well, those dreadful robes you're wearing are the last thing I'd want to be caught in." He hissed haughtily, cursing himself for not coming up with something better. He should just go, before he could make even more of a fool off himself. He'd done everything he'd come here for. He hadn't turned into a dragon during the night or killed anyone. There was no body he had to get rid off. Which was a relief. He could go now. There was no reason for him to stand there like a fool or uselessly follow the Gryffindors with his eyes. He could still hear them laughing from down the hall. How humiliating. How dare they laugh at him? Him, Draco Malfoy! He should teach them a lesson. He should – where were Crabbe and Goyle when he needed them?

"You're still here?" That was the voice of the Fat Lady. Damn. If he stayed any longer, she might start to tell people that he'd spent the night here. And he wasn't going to let it come to that. He'd been humiliated enough for a whole week. A good shower was what he needed now. To wash away the stench of those Gryffindor fools and the aftertaste of fire and smoke still lingering on his tongue.

…

A/N: Ah... poor Draco. So... guess what inspired the title of this chapter? Right! It's "Everything I wanted" by Billie Eilish. When I wrote this I listened to "Everything I wanted" and "ilomilo" non-stop. It made me a little dizzy. ilomilo especially. But... her music is great. I'm a fan. What is your favourite Billie Eilish song? Mine's probably Bellyache. But it depends on my mood.
Leave me your thoughts! :)