I feel like I should apologize for the last part - I was coming off a fit of writer's block so it was much shorter and not-as-good as intended. *mutter*

Thanks again for the reviews! And special thanks to simmysim, just for motivation. :)

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"Dreams," Professor Trelawney was saying as she paced the center of the room, "Are one of the most accurate ways of prophecizing, and one of the most difficult to recognize as prophecy."

Draco thought it was an unusually straightforward lesson from their Divination professor. He could count on one hand the number of times he'd learned anything of use in this class. Of course, Trelawney had to go and destroy the moment of respect she'd earned:

"Some of us are far more gifted at prophecizing than others. It all depends on the vision of your Mind's Eye, how far and how clearly it can see..."

Perhaps the vision of your Mind's Eye could be improved with mental contact lenses, Draco thought.

Rachel the Hufflepuff raised her hand. When Trelawney nodded in her direction, she stated, "On Sunday night, I dreamt I was in trouble for not mixing my potion right and Professor Snape was angry with me. And earlier today, that happened exactly! Only I wasn't mixing a potion. I was just watching one be mixed." Snape, unfairly perhaps, closely regulated Hufflepuffs' access to potion ingredients.

The details didn't seem to matter to the professor, however. "How wonderful, Rachel!" She exclaimed. "You're a budding clairvoyant!"

The girl flushed with pride. "I think that Draco Malfoy is also good at clairvoying," she said, looking over at the puzzled Slytherin. "He said yesterday that I'd fail my History of Magic quiz, and I did! Well, we only took the test this morning and I haven't seen the results, but I'm fairly certain I did fail, as I misplaced my notes and couldn't revise."

"Well... congratulations, dear." Several students choked back chuckles, causing Trelawney to look slightly flustered. "What I mean of course is that when one has a prophecy come to pass in their life, it is evidence of one's place in the universe. One's thread in the tapestry of fate, as it were." She turned toward Draco's table and clasped her bony-fingered hands together in a pyramid shape. "Mister Malfoy. I grant twenty points to Slytherin, and the blessing of the Heavens unto you!"

He wanted to know if the blessing of the Heavens meant his grade would improve any, but in the end that didn't matter. Trelawney's class was so simple Draco could've passed it in his sleep. So simple, Vince and Greg had actually wagered on which of them would receive the highest grade. So simple that Granger had dropped it because she couldn't handle the mental relaxation.

"Dreams!" Trelawney exclaimed, as if her train of thought had just re-railed itself. She spread her hands apart and then tented them again. "I was discussing dreams with you."

Draco slouched in his chair, an overstuffed lilac monstrosity. It was a wonder that daft old bat could sustain a thought long enough to communicate it to the class.

"Draco Malfoy..." He looked up, slightly panicked, at the sound of his name yet again. "Perhaps you can share with us an experience you've had with a particularly moving dream?"

Do I have to? He wanted to ask. His face felt warm and blurted out, "I don't dream."

Trelawney waved her hand. "Nonsense! All wizards dream, unless they've altered their minds with potions or spells." She cast a critical look at him, and he shook his head. "Of course, dear, I knew you hadn't. I see in you the reluctance to ever obscure your seeing powers, in whatever form they may take."

Next to him, Vince sniggered and Greg had to bite down on his knuckle to avoid a disruptive laugh.

"I, uh, used to dream of ghastly... things." Draco crossed his arms over his chest. Oh, how he resented having to share personal details with the class. "I'm certain you'd rather not hear the gruesome details."

Trelawney adjusted her huge, tacky glasses. "Yes, yes. And how did you get rid of the nightmares?"

Potter had kissed them away. Had been kind when he really had no reason to be, had touched him gently and teased him in a way that made Draco instantly aroused. And there was the journal Harry had gifted to him, full of scenes of violence and decay that'd faded off into far more ordinary images. Now with an increasing number of fantasies: grinding his hips into Harry's naked thigh, the two of them tossing and turning in a tangle of sheets, Harry's sweaty face above him with a look of absolute ecstasy...

"I stopped sleeping," he stated.

"Stopped sleeping?"

Yes, clandestine meetings with the Golden Boy have made sleep a luxury.

"I mean," he corrected himself, "I stopped... concentrating on so much negative energy." Draco commended himself for such a Trelawney-friendly answer.

Predictably, her face lit up. "Excellent, Draco! Ten points to Slytherin. Mr Malfoy is absolutely right, class. Negative and positive energy have a grand effect on what we see when we sleep..."

"Weren't we learning about dream prophecies?" Greg whispered.

Draco nodded. "Trelawney's forgotten the prophecy part. Again," he whispered. Like the time they'd spent an entire class on how to properly remove a dove's entrails, and not a word from Trelawney about how to actually read the bloody mess.

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Professor Snape, in all his cranky, slimy glory, was as bitterly reliable as the tides. Draco knew he would be working with Potter today in Potions, because Snape was going to make Granger babysit the Weasel to make sure he didn't cause another hazardous accident. And he'd be stuck with Potter for two reasons: The same reason Granger and Weasel were together, and because Snape mistakenly believed it was a punishment for the both of them to be partnered.

No doubt, Snape would want to punish Potter for the day before, and punish Draco for his histrionics after the incident.

And so it went, just as Draco had predicted.

They were making potions of camouflage. It was not a difficult mixture, but required perfect timing and precise measurments. Between the two of them, Draco and Harry made the art of potion-mixing look incredibly simple.

With the potion well on its way to boiling and the ingredients chopped and measured, Draco put his knife down on the table. "Know what, Potter?" He frowned. "We've both had it wrong, all this time."

"Had what wrong?" Harry answered distractedly, leaning over the cauldron to check their potion. "It's entirely clear. We've done it correctly."

Draco wasn't listening. "Maybe my recent sleep troubles have damaged my mind, but... Harry, I don't think we're as important as we believe ourselves to be."

"What?" Harry looked at Draco. "Wait - what?"

"I said that we - "

"I know what you said," Harry replied. "But you're the most self-centered person I know." Draco opened his mouth to say something, but Harry hadn't finished. "It's an accepted fact of the universe! The earth revolves around the sun, and Draco Malfoy believes both revolve around him. That's the first thing I learned at Hogwarts."

Draco looked cross. "Are you quite finished, Potter?"

"Yes." He smiled kindly at Draco. "But I must admit, I've found it kind of charming."

Against his will, a blush spread over Draco's cheeks and he nearly forgot what he was saying. "Er. Well. I suppose that's true, all of it, but you're certainly not Mister Humility yourself. Your every action, you think the entire school is watching you and genuinely interested in the way Wonder Boy lives."

Draco and Harry both noticed Snape glancing their way, so they looked down and feigned deep interest in potion-making.

"I've got news for you, Potter." Draco had lowered his voice, and looked at Harry out of the corner of his eye. "The novelty of *you* has worn off. You're just the same as anyone else here. So you make the gossip column every few months - look, my parents make the society pages, Ron's family is always in the Prophet for one thing or another, and I'll bet half the school has had the spotlight on them for a moment or two."

"What's your point?"

"I've been thinking about you lately. After you left my room yesterday..."

Harry bit his lip. "I've been thinking about you too."

"I like you," Draco admitted casually.

"I like you too." Harry glanced over at the potion to make sure it hadn't bubbled over or turned green.

Draco leaned closer. "Then give me a kiss. Or, walk out of class with me, holding my hand."

Harry choked. "Excuse me? Wha - Draco, don't be ridiculous!"

"Why not?"

"Be-because!" Stuttered Harry, looking confused and incredulous in equal parts.

"Who would care, really?" Draco asked. Then he added, "Mind the potion, Potter. I'm giong to add the magicked clothflowers and you put that peeled bug in right after."

"What do you mean, who would care?" Harry threw a glance at Draco, then carefully added his ingredient directly after Draco's clothflowers. "Everyone would be talking about it."

He rolled his eyes. "Were you even listening to me? Every morsel of gossip makes its way around the school and dies out. You should know that by now. But no one cares about our business any more than they're concerned with the next person's."

The potion in the cauldron had turned to yellow milk. Theirs had no smell, but a slight burning scent was coming from somewhere in the classroom.

Potter was staring into the cauldron. "Malfoy," he said softly, not taking his eyes off the potion, "That may be the most reasonable thought you've ever had. What's brought this on?"

"I told you: I like you." His fingers brushed the back of Harry's hand, then rested there. He felt Potter tense up. "I like you, and I think we could be together. More than simply an hour or two at night. I'm not going to bother if it's just a halfway effort on your part."

"I understand," Harry mumbled. He pulled his hand from under Draco's and flexed the fingers as if trying to shake the other boy's touch off. "I wouldn't want to waste my time on someone only half devoted to me. Oh, Malfoy? It's turned golden."

"Mm-hmm... I'll stir, you add the bloodweed." The potion turned a deep rust color as the weed was added. Harry switched the flame off; abruptly, the potion cooled and steam stopped rising from the cauldron. "We'll test it on you. It won't burn you, don't worry, the bloodweed reacts with the spell dissolved from the clothflowers to... Potter, are you listening?"

Harry was writing something, which he shoved in the pocket of his trousers. "Yes, yes, listening."

Sighing, Draco put his hand up and signaled the professor. "If you decide... if you think it's worth it... tell me," he said under his breath.

In front of Snape, Draco rubbed a bit of potion onto the back of Potter's hand. Within moments, his hand had blended into the tarnished wood of the table. "Exemplary," Snape had said and grudgingly granted five points to Gryffindor as well as Slytherin.

The class was ending when Harry pressed a torn piece of parchment into Draco's hand. He smiled quickly at Draco before heading off to join his friends.

Draco was willing to sacrifice a fair amount for Harry Potter, and he wanted that to be clear to the other boy. But being a true Slytherin, he'd kept his cards close to his chest. Each consequence had been weighed, and either way, he was going to come out on top.

If Harry wanted him, well, that would be the greatest outcome. If he rejected Draco, Harry would come out of the situation looking shallow and self-obsessed, a total bastard who'd used poor Draco at his most vulnerable. And Draco thought that would've been acceptable too. Acceptable, but heartbreaking.

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