Title: Clear

Chapter 3: Dizzy

Pairing: Harry/Draco

Rating: R for slash themes

**WARNING**: THIS STORY CONTAINS SLASH THEMES – WHICH MEANS HOMOSEXUAL RELATIONSHIPS BETWEEN TWO MALE CHARACTERS. YOU ARE ADVISED TO LEAVE IF YOU HAVE A PROBLEM WITH THIS.

Disclaimer: The characters portrayed in this story do not belong to me, but to the Harry Potter series by JK Rowling. This is all FICTION; none of it is true. No profit was made from this story. I bear no responsibility for anything you may claim from this story, you have been warned.

LAST WARNING. SLASH. HOMOSEXUALITY. LEAVE IF YOU DON'T LIKE.

Notes: Thank you SO much for the wonderful reviews! Hope that all who have finals this week pass with flying colors, and that those who don't will continue reading this story! Thank you SOSOSOSOSOSOSO much! *sniff* I'm so happy you guys like my writing. *sniff* EEEEE. Um. Yeah. THANK YOU THANK YOU THANK YOU THANK YOU! I can't thank ya'll enough!

P.S. Sorry for the run-on sentences in this chapter…it's sort of an extension on Draco's mindless rambles…

***

Draco couldn't sleep. Try as he might, he just couldn't. He tried to stop thinking so much, and inevitably, his thoughts turned to Potter. He tried to stop thinking about Potter, and then he tried to stop thinking that he was thinking about Potter.

Turning on his side, he yawned, stretched, sighed, rolled his eyes, and sighed again before turning onto his other side and repeating the procedure all over again. He had a sneaking suspicion that he, Draco Malfoy, was in love. After all, it was common knowledge that those immersed in love couldn't sleep, couldn't eat, couldn't pay attention, and was always continually depressed and extremely moody.

Like that Romeo guy he was learning about in Wizard Literature. Didn't he end up dead?

He felt slightly nauseous, and there was a dull ache somewhere deep inside his chest. He wondered if this was what it felt like to be in love. Pretty crummy, in his opinion.

He groaned, then, and smacked his pillow with his face, lying spread eagle on his stomach. Was there no hope for him? Was he destined for a life of torture? Was this the "or else" he was facing when he defied his father's orders to receive the Dark Mark?

And was it too hot under the covers? He kicked off his comforter and growled when he heard it fall to the floor. Grumbling, he reached down and pulled it back onto his bed. Yes, too hot. His blonde hair reached past his shoulders now, and the sticky strands were beginning to frustrate him. Grabbing a black satin ribbon off his nightstand, he tied his hair back at the nape of his neck and lay down again to resume his squirming and endless tossing.

Oh, what a cruel life he led.

Draco had just about decided that the next worst thing to being a servant of Voldemort's would be to fall in love with Potter. The Boy Who Fucking Lived. If only he had just died when he was supposed to, then he wouldn't exist, Draco would not be in love, and even if he was in love, there was at least the chance that the love would be requited.

But no. Potter just had to survive, and he had to be perfect as well. Perfect Potter, and the most sought-after boy in school, second only to the one and only Draco Malfoy.

It was unfair, and Draco knew it, but he had to blame someone for his sleepless nights. Crabbe was starting to make jokes about his extended PMS, and Goyle had decided, definitely, that Draco was in love and mooning over someone he couldn't get. Which, of course, brought up a whole new range of other jokes and teases…

This. Was. IT.

He was not going to stay around doing nothing. No, he would be better off taking a walk, like he was going to do earlier this evening, until Potter had to be there and the whole thing escalated to the point where he had to hurry back to Slytherin and scream at Pansy, who had screamed back, and so of course Draco had to scream even more, because his reputation was now on the line, and until Pansy had run off in tears did he, Draco, stop screaming at her, and instead screamed at the people present in the common room for staring, not doing homework, not studying, for breathing too loud, for being there, for just plain existing.

Not exactly choice behaviour for a prefect, but who the hell cared?

Yes, a walk would be just the thing. Grabbing his cloak, he threw it on over his pajamas and stalked out of the Slytherin dorms. Slinking through the shadows, he made his way to the Astronomy Tower, and was about to barge in when he heard a female voice.

"Should we tell them yet?"

And then a male voice, muffled and unclear. "Ginny…I don't know. You know Ron. If he knew I was with you, he'd…skin me alive, or something."

"I know, just…" A pause. "I don't want us to be a secret anymore. Maybe it won't be as bad as you think?"

"I'm not sure about this, Ginny. Just. Know that even though I can't tell anyone, I do love you. I really do."

"Oh darling. I love you, too, you know that. I just…" And then low words were spoken and then it was quiet, and Draco just knew that they were kissing.

A clutch of cold panic seized his heart with its icy unforgiving grip.

Potter. Potter and that damned damned DAMNED Weasley girl. Draco's heart beat wildly, and he was suddenly aware of his shaking hands which turned icy and stiff. Blood boiled through his veins bubbling towards his head as it pounded and ached and pounded some more so he could hear it so he could hear his own blood in his ears like the rushing of water in an ocean like the rush of wind as he flew and then his heart hurt and was cold so cold so painful he felt dizzy black spots appearing before his eyes and then the sound of footsteps towards the door and he fled and he ran and he ran all the way back to the dungeons and into the bathroom to wash his hot face because -

He was ashen. Obviously, all the blood rushing towards his head somehow failed to reach his cheeks, as the reflection staring back at him had white, almost grey, skin. Wild silver eyes shimmered as if crazed, and a bunch of his hair had fallen out from his ponytail. He looked as if he just escaped St. Mungo's.

His hands were still shaking, as they always did during periods of excessive emotion. They were slightly sweaty and clammy, but with the same icy stiffness, and Draco twisted the cold water on and thrust his hands under, reveling in the icy stream. He splashed water onto his face, and when he looked up into his reflection, there were streaks of water on his cheeks. Or were those tears?

Potter and Ginny Weasley. He could imagine them now, in the Astronomy Tower, moonlight filling the room with a soft, romantic glow, the quietness of midnight enhancing the tenderness of the silence. And Potter, looking like he did in the rose garden, moonbeams like a halo around his black hair, emerald eyes luminous, and lips so red, simply demanding to be kissed, demanding to be nibbled at, to be licked and caressed with a gentle tongue until they were tender from the ministrations. Potter, with Ginny Weasley, who would be the one kissing him, tasting him, touching him, dirtying him.

The next time he saw that damned girl he was going to Avada Kedavra her, no doubt about it.

Most of all, it was driving Draco insane that someone other than him would be allowed to touch Potter, to kiss Potter, to love Potter. To have what was supposed to be his.

MINE

"No!" His fist struck out, cracking the glass, but not breaking it, and then his knuckles were bleeding and Draco felt dizzy again, and hurt, it hurt so much Mommy make it stop hurting make my heart stop hurting so much, and he just needed to crawl into his bed and cry.

So he did just that.

***

Harry Potter was sleeping the sleep of the innocent. He was sleeping the sleep of the content, of the peaceful, of the satisfied. He slept the comforting sleep of someone who found out the Malfoy was, in fact, not dating Pansy, and by the looks and sound of it, abhorred her very presence near him.

He snuggled deeper into his bed, hugging his extra pillow to himself.

Sometime during his deep sleep, his dreams turned to Malfoy and his sucking abilities, and his heart gave a hard thump and adrenaline rushed through his relaxed body as he blushed and grinned to himself in his dreams, squeezing his pillow even tighter with barely contained excitement.

To Be Continued…!