12 – The Key

"One of the characteristics of the dream is that nothing surprises us in it. With no regret, we agree to live in it with strangers, completely cut off from our habits and friends."
― Jean Cocteau

...

"I had a dream about you last night. I was alone on a dark night and you came to me as a firefly. I knew it was you because you were the brightest."
― Crystal Hudson, Dreaming is for lovers

...

The next morning it hit her like a horde of hippogriffs. She had forgotten to ask him about the secret. Or rather… she hadn't asked when she had had the chance to do so. Why had she hesitated? Just because he had similar issues with his dad like she had with her own?

And what insanity had possessed her to think she and Malfoy could be something like friends? Was she delirious? Had he manipulated her somehow? Maybe it had something to do with the dream. Right, that had to be it. It was a different kind of reality. She simply had to focus on her task twice as hard next time. And on top of that, she had to find out what the Slytherin was plotting!

She decided to try again the following night.

…ooo…

My feet lead me toward Malfoy's dream door almost on their own. Why have I come here again? To find out his secret? To find out what he's plotting? To understand him better? To spend time with him?

I don't know where these last two questions have come from. Honestly. I shove these confusing thoughts to the back of my mind and instead resolve to play Magic Works on the guitar. The door opens and I have barely enough time to wonder what I'm getting myself into, before I've already slipped through.

I'm back in Malfoy's bedroom. The boy is standing in front of a full-length mirror and doing something with his surprisingly long hair. It's reaching slightly past his shoulders. As I approach him I notice all kinds of magazines littering the ground. They mostly show long-haired members of the Weird Sisters.

"Ugh, this doesn't work," he growls in frustration, dropping his hands to his sides. Then he spots me in the mirror. He tilts his head to the side curiously. "Do you know how to make a fishtail braid?"

The question is so random that I find myself just nodding. Of course I know how to make a fishtail braid!

"Do it for me," he demands, walking back toward his bed and plopping down onto it. He pats the space beside him, inviting me to join him. I notice now that the rock stars in the magazines show off several kinds of braids. I see the connection now.

"What kind of braid do you want?" I ask, sitting down next to him. This is so random. When have I agreed to help him?

"A fishtail braid," he repeats.

"I got that. But… where do you want it? On the sides or…"

He picks up one of the magazines and shows me a picture. The hair of the man in the image is up in a half bun with the sides leading up to it braided fishtail style. Interesting.

"I'll do yours once you're finished with mine," the boy says, looking at me expectantly. I snort. I never said I wanted my hair braided. And especially not by him!

"Turn around," I instruct with a huff, getting more comfortable on the bed. Once he faces away from me, I reach for his hair and enclose the top half of it in my hand. I need a hair tie. His fingers are playing around with several black ties.

"Gimme that," I order, snatching them out of his hand. I tie up the top of his hair (which is incredibly soft) and do the same with the lower part. Then I free another half from the hair I tied up first and start braiding. I've always liked braiding my – or someone else's – hair. It's oddly relaxing. For a moment I'm reverted back to another memory. But whenever I braided Hermione's hair I got stuck because her hair was so frizzy. Malfoy's hair on the other hand is fine and soft.

I'm done with both sides without even realizing it. All that's left to do is removing the leftover hair tie and smoothing everything out.

"You're done," I tell him and before I can say more than that, he sprints toward the mirror and admires himself.

"Wow, that's amazing!" He exclaims, looking at his face from every angle. After, what might be hours he trots back to me, still beaming and gets seated on the bed beside me.

"Now, I'll do yours," he announces, biting his lips excitedly. It's endearing. Especially seeing as he looks more like an elf than a rock star with his new hair style.

"Turn around," he instructs, gesturing for me to do exactly that. I sigh, wondering what in Merlin's name I'm getting myself into but I oblige.

"Close your eyes," he whispers close to my ear. "I want it to be a surprise."

Is he actually serious? I open my eyes to argue but he stops me.

"Come on, don't be a troll." He says, rendering me speechless.

"Did you just call me a troll?" I question in a low dangerous tone.

"No – I just – just do me this favour and then I'll do you a favour in return." Is he pouting? Damn, his eagerness reminds me so much of my brother Simon that I sigh again, crossing my arms in front of my chest and close my eyes. It does sound good, him doing me a favour.

Draco settles behind me, and a second later I can feel his fingers in my hair. As he gets to work, he starts to hum a soft melody and for the third time, I notice that his singing voice is really nice. It's low and smooth but not too deep, making me relax, before I even realize it.

"Your hair is perfect for that," he whispers, his breath is ghosting against my neck, making me shiver.

I frown, shaking my head. "This is so weird," I whisper in return.

"What do you mean?" He asks, running his fingers through my scalp.

"I mean… you're a guy. Why would you like braiding my hair?" I shrug. "Every time I tried to get Simon to braid my hair he flipped me the bird and called me crazy."

"Simon?" Draco asks curiously.

"My brother." I answer.

"I thought your brother's name was 'Harry'?"

"Uh." Right that's what I told him last time. Why does he remember that? "M-my little brother. He's ten."

"So, you've got two brothers?"

I nod. It's a good thing, he doesn't see my face. Lying is much easier that way. The boy's fingers still in my hair.

"I wish I had a sibling," he says with a sigh.

I snort. "Believe me, you don't. There's nothing more annoying than a little brother."

"But you care about him, don't you? He'll always be there for you. No matter what. And if your parents never have time for you, there's at least one person who does." There's so much longing in his voice, I want to look at him but I can't turn around because my had is caged in his hands. And also, I'm not supposed to open my eyes. Obviously.

"I guess you're right," I say instead. I've never thought about it like this before.

"You know, if I was your sibling, I would braid your hair every day." He declares, wrapping a tie around one portion of my hair. I roll my eyes at his dramatics. "And I would never annoy you," he whispers into my ear. He really needs to stop doing that! Then I feel two arms curling around my middle from behind. I tear open my eyes.

"What are you-?" I try to ask, but he squeezes me so tightly that I can barely breathe.

"Your brothers are so lucky to have you," he says against my hair. "You're even good at making fishtail braids."

Is he being serious?

I remove his arms from my stomach and scoot to the other side of the bed. "A fishtail braid, really? I'm so amazing, I can make a fishtail braid." I honestly don't know, where I've got the sarcasm from. Dad is much too vain for sarcasm and Sirius too confident. Mum offers sarcastic comments every now and then but that happens so rarely, that I don't think I've picked it up from her. Maybe it's just something that belongs to me?

"I'm sure there are also other things you're good at," Malfoy reasons.

"Yeah? Like what?" I cross my arms in front of my chest. When has this turned into a discussion about my strengths and insecurities?

"You're good at drawing," the boy offers after a moment of contemplation.

"And?" I raise my eyebrows.

"Well…" He seems to think about it. How promising. "You're really beauti-"

"It's fine," I interrupt him. "You don't have to try to make something up. I know I'm not that special. Aside from being pretty. And being a Potter. I'm not even a real Gryffindor." I scoff. "I'm not brave at all and much too selfish and-" Why am I saying all this? And why are my eyes starting to burn? I'm not going to cry!

Malfoy watches me, seemingly unsure how to reply. "You're wrong." He says after a while. "I mean you are pretty, obviously. But you're more than that. You don't have to be a Gryffindor to be a good person. Look at me." He adds the last part with a grin.

It makes me laugh. Just because it's so ridiculous.

"You're not a good person," I argue softly.

He glares at me. "Hey, I'm trying to make you feel better." He scoots closer to me.

"Try harder." I say with a chuckle.

He frowns, taking me in from head to toe.

"I may not be the best example for a good person but…I think you should stop trying so hard. Maybe you were never meant to be a Gryffindor." He pauses, letting the words hover there for me to contemplate them. "I mean, look at you. You're so creative and talented and almost as good at potions as me."

"I'm better than you," I argue out of reflex. I'm the best in our year. He knows that.

The boy rolls his eyes. "My point is that you're really ambitious and intelligent. I think you would have made an amazing Ravenclaw." He reaches for my hand and gives it a squeeze. "I would have, too. Wouldn't that have been nice? The two of us in Ravenclaw?"

My first impulse is to pull my hand away and contradict him or better yet laugh at him. But there's something warm in his touch and his grey eyes that makes me reconsider.

"Ravenclaw?" I test the word on my tongue, liking the sound of it. Maybe he's right. Draco smiles at me and nods, brushing away a strand of hair from my face with his other hand. His fingers trace along my cheek with a gentleness that startles me.

His face is right there in front of me and for a moment I feel like he's gazing right into my soul. I can't look away. His eyes are so warm and wistful, they make me feel like he completely understands me. I don't think I've ever felt this close to anyone before. It's as if something just clicks. And there is a kind of golden tinge to everything, giving it an ethereal glow. I wonder if he feels that way, too. His eyes keep wandering over my face, like he's never seen me before. Every time they flick across my lips, I wonder if he's going to kiss me. I don't think I would mind if he did.

But he doesn't. I'm unsure whether to feel relieved or disappointed. Before I can decide, blueish grey eyes make me realise something.

"It's blue." I say with a frown. I think I've destroyed the fragility of the moment.

"What?" He asks.

"The house colour of Ravenclaw. It's blue. Well, and bronze, I guess." The moment is definitely broken.

"Uh… yes." He shrugs.

"Blue is not my colour," I offer as an explanation. "It clashes terribly with my hair."

Draco snorts, leaning away from me and dropping his hand. "That's a pity. Maybe you should dye it then."

I can tell he's just teasing but that doesn't stop me from teasing back. "You dye it first," I challenge, lifting an eyebrow.

"Well," he starts, curling a finger around a blond strand. "I've always wanted green streaks." His voice sounds disinterested but there's a vivid glow in his eyes, saying otherwise.

"As you wish." I chuckle, conjuring up my wand and pointing it at his head. "Greensleaves," I whisper, thinking up some stupid incantation and imagining green streaks to colour the boy's hair.

It actually works. I laugh loudly, pointing a finger at him.

"What have you done?" He wants to know, jumping up and sprinting toward his mirror again.

"Granted your wish," I say with a smirk. "All that's left now is some eye-liner and you're ready for the next Weird Sisters concert."

"Shall we go then?" He asks turning back around.

"Go where?" I ask, my eyes fixed on his eyes that are now underlined with black. It doesn't look bad.

"The concert," he replies, offering me his hand.

Before I have the chance to reply the bedroom door opens. A girl with white hair and a familiar feather dress gazes inside the room. She finds my eyes and gives me a pointed look. It's the kind of look that says 'Follow me. Or you'll regret it. Bitterly.' Something like that. This little girl has always seemed much too intimidating for her own good. What is Hedwig doing here in the first place? And how did she get in here?

The look intensifies, causing me to get up and make my way over toward the door. "We'll go another time," I tell the boy and follow the girl out into the bright corridor.

"So, how is it going?" She asks me as soon as the door has fallen shut.

"Um… what?" I need a moment to switch from the green streaks incident to the owl – turned little girl.

Hedwig clucks her tongue impatiently. "Have you found out yet?"

"Oh… I – I'm still working on that," I admit, biting my lips. I forgot to ask him again!

The white-haired girl stares at me in a way that makes me feel like she read my mind. "Are you?" She asks, tilting her head to the side sceptically.

I nod.

"I had the impression you were kind of… distracted. Are you even trying to find out or is there a different reason for your dream visits?"

My eyes widen. "Wha-what are you talking about? Of course I'm still trying – why else would I be here?"

Hedwig scoffs. "I don't know. You tell me." I want to protest but the girl keeps talking. "All right then. If you say so. Good luck on your mission." She winks, sending me a mysterious smile, before turning around and leaving me to stare after her with my mouth gaping open.

Should I go back into his dream? No. What if Hedwig somehow found a way to get into the dream again? My own dream then? But that doesn't seem like the best plan either. What would I do there? I don't know for how long I simply stand there, trying not to think about the implications of the girl's visit. Or that intimate moment I shared with Malfoy only moments ago. I can't think about that now. Or ever. The more I try not to think about it the more I end up doing so. Until at last, the colours fade away and I feel my consciousness being pulled away to another place.

… ooo…

The following morning, Haley wasn't sure if she was actually awake or still asleep. The dream visiting had left her extremely tired.

"This is your third cup of coffee," Hermione noted, watching her pour herself another cup of the dark liquid.

"I know," she commented, taking a sip and feeling the caffeine sink into her bloodstream.

"Is there a particular reason you're this tired?" She inquired, glancing at her hand pointedly.

"Didn't sleep well," Haley replied slightly annoyed. It wasn't even a lie. Not really. And she was still kind of mad that her so-called friend had taken her gobstone without telling her.

"You're sure it doesn't have anything to do with a certain green gobstone?" Hermione pressed in an oddly casual tone.

"The gobstone, you stole from me, you mean?" She replied sweetly, buttering her toast with more force than would have been necessary.

"I found it lying on the ground next to your bed!" Hermione hissed defiantly. "And regardless of that how can I steal something that has already been stolen?"

The two girls glared at one another, the air around them electrified and loaded.

"You have to give it back to him." Hermione urged, her eyes glinting with determination.

Haley held her gaze unblinkingly. "I will." She bit out. "And I don't have to do anything."

"When?"

"As soon as I don't need it any more."

"So, you are still using it!"

"Hermione, you don't get it!"

"I think I do-"

"I have to do this!" Haley exploded, frustration colouring her voice.

Hermione blinked in surprise. Obviously she hadn't expected such a strong reaction.

"Why?" She asked after a quiet moment.

Haley shrugged. She kept asking herself exactly the same question. Why. Why did she keep visiting Malfoy in his dreams but could never bring herself to inquire about his secret?

"I'm still… figuring that out," she finally said.

"But Haley," Hermione placed her arms on the table, staring at her friend even more intensely. "Do you even have an idea what you're doing? You might be seriously harming him!" She whispered this, so no one at the table besides them was able to overhear.

"I'm not harming him," she answered. "I'm more than careful. I might as well be treating him with kid gloves!" And then it hit her. She was treating him with kid gloves. That's why she wasn't able to figure out what Malfoy was hiding. She wasn't even trying for real. Because there was a part of her inside her that opposed to all of this. Her sneaking into his dreams and stealing his deepest secrets from underneath his nose without him even knowing or being able to defend himself. That was why she had been hesitating. Even after everything he had done to her. She didn't want to sink this low. If she was going to find out about his secret, shouldn't he be aware of it at least? Shouldn't he get the chance to stop her?

This was her mum talking. Haley knew it. But even without her mum's voice meddling inside her head, she could see that it was wrong to intrude on someone's privacy in such an invasive manner. It was deceitful and more than a little questionable. And she couldn't do it. Didn't want to do it.

At least not to the boy she had visited in his dreams. He was so different from the mean, despicable git that had made her life a living hell. Intruding on his privacy, she had no qualms about. He deserved much worse.

The boy on the other hand, the one she had laughed and shared memorable moments with… the one who was kind, fun and emphathetic and who was a fanboy of the Weird Sisters… She didn't want to do this to him. She didn't know how it had happened but she had started to care about him. Liked talking to and spending time with him. She had to admit that much. There was no use denying it.

But then, what was she supposed to do? Give up and admit defeat?

After everything she had had to endure?

Haley couldn't do that either. There had to be another way. A way to get back at him fair and square.

Sensing the change in her demeanour, something shifted in Hermione's eyes as well.

"Let me help you," she offered softly, placing her hand on top of Haley's.

"I wish you could," The girl answered. There was so much she wanted to tell her friend. But she couldn't bring herself to talk about everything that was warring inside her. Friendship was strange. Only a second ago they had been at each others throats and now… all seemed well again. Maybe that was the key. Friendship.

…

A/N: Hey everyone! I might have went a little wild with the braiding scene. I was aiming for something cute. Well... it was less strange in my mind xD Thanks for reading and leave me your thoughts :)