Disclaimer: Only Draco is mine...... okay, he's not, but I wish he was. Characters and places belongs to J.K Rowlings, song belongs to the Goo Goo Dolls, and only the plot belongs to me.

Death's of innocents Dreams of Nothing- Thank you for saying it was well written, I hope you like this chapter.

SM- Glad that you like it, I hope I got this chapter out fast enough for you

Belle and Laurie- Sorry if I was overly cruel to Draco

Bellatrist- Sorry that you thought it was too violent, so this chapter has no violence for you

Miriel- Yeah, you do sound like Hermione. Thank you for being my beta reader

MOI- I hope that you like this chapter, and yes * in an evil voice * Harry's going crazy!

Janus C.P- * blinks * That was the longest review that I have ever seen, but the advice helps. I hope that I explained it a little bit better in this chapter, but I'm planning to do more in the next chapter

Gemma- Glad that you liked it, and I hope that Rowlings does put a good does of slash in her next book (but I highly doubt it). Oh! And long live the Porn Ball!

Evil- Chicken-Wrath- Very glad that you like it, and here's the next chapter!

Chapter 4

[And I don't want the world to see me

Cause I don't think that they'd understand]

6th year started out with it's usual torpor or boringness and nothingness. Snape was still as vile as ever, Professor Binns as boring and dead as ever, and Professor Trelawney, as predictable as ever. But even though they went on in their normal bouts of teaching, you could see the strain that Voldemort's reappearance was causing them. They were more severe with their punishments, and the teachings of the school seemed to shift towards knowledge they would need if they ever had to fight a Death Eater or such. But indeed, if you found the teachers were strained, then you did not notice the inner conflicts of the boy who lived.

Harry stopped spending so much time in the common room, and could rarely be seen anywhere was he once could. He was avoiding the stares that other people gave him, whispering about how sad his life was. But the Boy who lived did not want their pity. He would rather be hated by all then pitied by a few. More often then none, Hermione and Ron would notice that he would often jump, and then look around for someone, like he heard someone say something.

"Harry," Hermione had said one day, "if something is bothering you, you can tell us. We're your friends."

"I'm fine," Harry had insisted.

"If you ever need anyone to talk to, we're here. Don't keep secrets from us, or lie to us, you're not good at that."

"Why would I need someone to talk to?"

Good Saint Potter, why do you even care?

Harry jumped, looking around for the sound of the voice that kept haunting his thoughts. Upon finding no one there, he settled back down in his chair, oblivious to the look Hermione was giving him. She regarded him carefully, shook her head, and then walked away. Maybe Ron would have better luck in talking to him.

When Ron came back a few moments after she sent him, looking extremely harassed, she sighed in frustration. What was wrong with Harry? Even Seamus's random bouts of humor couldn't cheer Harry up anymore.

"I guess that if we can't help, then Harry will have to find his way out of it alone," she told Ron.

The problem was, that even Harry didn't know what the problem was. He spent hour after hour in the library pouring over book after book. His sanity was dwindling away, piece by piece. Not even Ron and Hermione cheered him up, for they didn't have the problem he was having. If wasn't enough that the person bothered him ever night in his dreams, they had to bother him everyday too. Harry would have asked Dumbledore for help, but he was rarely at the castle anymore. He was too busy setting up fronts to deal with the Death Eater attacks.

So, he would sit alone, until his problem was solved. But looking at it now, it looked like it would never be fixed. He left his stack of books in the corner of the library to go find another book on reoccurring dreams. He grabbed it out of the shelf, and immediately flipped it open, not watching where he was going. He tripped on a stack of books that were piled in a corner, and flew flat against someone who was coming up the stairs. They fell down the stairs, and landed in a heap at the bottom. Harry sat up groggily, hoping that the person he bumped into wasn't as bruised as he was.

"Nice of you to grace me with your presence's," the person mumbled.

"To what do I own your visit?"

"Malfoy?" Harry said, quickly untangling himself from the pale Slytherin and standing up.

"Who did you think it was," Draco muttered, standing up and brushing himself off.

[When everything's made to be broken

I just want you to know who I am]

"Well certainly not you," Harry said. "Are you alright?"

"Why are you concerned?" Draco asked.

"Because I wouldn't want you to get hurt, it's just not right anymore."

"What made you so concerned all of a sudden Potter?"

"Just because it looks like I hate you doesn't mean that I don't care about you."

Harry didn't jump this time, it was almost as if he had been expecting it. He slowly swung his head around, looking to see who had said it.

"Looking for something Potter?" Draco said.

"No," Harry muttered, his emerald eyes boring into Draco's gray one's.

It seemed impossible to Harry. All of the sudden, his dream seemed to clear, but then clouded back up again. Draco had seemed so familiar to Harry, like he knew him more then he thought he did, but that was impossible.

"I.... I'll just.... be going," Harry said slowly, ambling away from Draco, his eyes full of confusion.

Draco watched Harry walk away from him, lost in his own thought. Everyone knew that something was wrong with Harry, but no one, not even the Mudblood and Weasel knew what it was. Draco bent over and picked up the book that Harry had dropped, but forgot to pick up.

" 'Reoccurring Dreams," Draco read to himself. "Reoccurring Dreams can happen if two wizards wish for the same thing to happen. These two wizards will connect in the planes of sleep, and there, what they wish to happen, will happen.' "

"So Potter has been having reoccurring dreams," Draco though to himself. "But about what?"

" 'Some side signs of reoccurring dreams are nervousness, withdrawal from social life, and hearing the conversations that happened in the dream.' "

"I guess that explains what's been wrong with Potter."

Draco shut the book, and continued up the stairs, but stopped, when he saw a small notebook on the stairs. He picked it up and flipped it over to the front page, and saw that it was Harry's hand writing, he must have dropped it also when they fell. He started to read what it said, but was shocked when he did.

"Things I can remember:

1.) I don't think that I could endure another train ride with stupid and stupider

2.) I've been so horrible to people, that sometimes I wonder if I deserved it all. It's just my due.

3.) Good Saint Potter, why do you even care?"

Draco flipped it shut, not wanting to read anymore. Harry had been having the same dream as him, meaning that they were both wishing for the same thing! Hope fluttered alive in Draco's heart for a moment, before once again, completely dying away. Harry didn't know who he was. That's why he was writing down what he could remember.

"It's not surprising," Draco thought bitterly to himself. "It's not like he ever did notice me anyways."

Draco thought back to their first year, when he had offered Potter his friendship, and Potter had turned it down. That was the first time anyone had ever turned his friendship down, and he automatically hated the much-loved boy that lived. His hate for him soon grew into an obsession, and he would try at nothing to get Potter in trouble or embarrass the boy in some way. But even that hadn't worked, and his obsession had grown into something more.

But Draco didn't know what it was anymore. His hate had gone further then hate, and he had become so obsessed, that he almost seemed to be in love.

"Ha! Love is just a word to people like me," Draco thought haughtily, pocketing the notebook. "I'm branded now, love doesn't belong with me, and I could never belong with him."

Draco put the book back into the shelf, and started up towards the astronomy tower, his sudden hatred for everything he was, finally winning over his sanity.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

Sorry, but this chapter wasn't as long as the others. Been a bit busy lately, but I hope that you liked it.