Draco Malfoy stared up at the canopy of his four-poster. He was cold.
Inordinately cold. Draco had, however, heard Nott complaining about the
'heat' as he was coming in, so he resisted casting 'another' Warming Charm
on the dorm room.
It wasn't the cold keeping him awake. Draco was used to sleeping in the soul-numbing temperatures of Malfoy Manor, where it was not unusual for him to wake with tears frozen on his cheeks. Instead, Draco's insomnia was caused by a Mudblood Gryffindor whom he was simultaneously blessing and cursing.
Hermione Granger had been the object of his affections for the past year and a half. Not that his conduct had betrayed it, of course.
And now she was going to make him apologize to arguably his three least favorite people: Potter, Weasley, and, Longbottom.
If Hermione had been trying to punish him, she could not have done more damage with the Cruciatus Curse, at least to his pride. And if she hadn't, well, Draco was doing a fairly good job of punishing himself: he was lying in the dark, composing apologies. At least she hadn't said 'publicly', but 'verbally' and 'sincerely' were bad enough.
They would laugh at him, Draco knew. He could not stand being laughed at, whether it was his father's low sneer or the collective ha-ha's of Hogwarts. He was sure it would be the latter.
Sighing, he swung his feet onto the cold stone floor and padded over to the canopy bed opposite his, where, despite the best attempts of its occupant, wand light was shining through the cloth.
Draco insinuated himself through the curtains and caught Blaise Zabini curled up with the latest edition of 'Hogwarts, A History'. He looked up and gave Draco a small smile.
"Can't sleep?" Draco sat down on the side of the bed, pushing a strand of hair out of his eyes.
Blaise closed his book. "No. Besides, Nott said he'd gag me if I screamed through one more night."
Draco privately resolved to have a talk with the inconsiderate Nott, but he knew Blaise hated pity, so he continued with his original purpose. "Is Lilith--?"
Blaise shifted under the bedclothes and a fluffy white head popped up from behind him. The Persian cat untangled herself fastidiously and padded over to Draco, who gathered her up in his arms. "She came to keep me company, probably got tired of waiting for you."
"Yeah." Draco lay back across the foot of the bed, burying his face in his cat.
Blaise pushed the better part of the coverlet over Draco's feet, as they were looking a bit blue. "How was detention?"
"As well as can be expected under the present circumstances, thank you," Draco said wryly as Lilith jumped off of his head.
"Sorry. What took so long?"
"The usual. Filch was being a pain in the bum."
Blaise laughed and made Lilith a nest in the covers. "So no more Platyform Charms?"
"Yeah." Draco scooped up his cat and reached into his dressing robe pocket with his free hand. He handed a small vial to Blaise. "For dreamless sleep."
The look in his soft green eyes made Draco forget the cold completely. Blaise hugged him awkwardly, one-armed around the head, and Draco tiptoed back to his bed. Once there, he rearranged the pillows, fluffing one up for Lilith and, stuffing two under his own head, he lay down to think.
Blaise had nightmares, blindingly vivid dreams about things he could only tell Draco in breathless, halting fragments. They had started at the beginning of the boys' third year, when Dementors had stopped the Hogwarts' Express and searched each compartment for Sirius Black.
Draco had relived awful memories that day, but Blaise's had stayed with him: two or three nights a week he would wake, screaming his throat raw into the darkness.
Crabbe and Goyle usually slept through it. Nott, a half-blood who had no idea what the matter was with his roommate, would roll over, tell Blaise to shut up, and go back to sleep.
Draco always got up, not quite knowing why, to do everything from hold Blaise's head while he retched to sit with him as he cried. Blaise was one of his few real friends and Draco didn't care that his father was in Azkaban or that he lived with Muggles because his mother, Voldemort's former third in command, had disappeared after he was born.
When they had done Dreamless Sleep in Potions a week before, Draco had contrived to retrieve quite a lot of it, with Blaise in mind. He felt very much like taking a vial himself, right now.
Hermione Granger lay in the warm darkness of Gryffindor Tower, wondering if Draco would really make peace and thinking that if he was going to, she should have added Hagrid to the list.
Her last thought before sleep was that Draco Malfoy had very eerie silver eyes.
It wasn't the cold keeping him awake. Draco was used to sleeping in the soul-numbing temperatures of Malfoy Manor, where it was not unusual for him to wake with tears frozen on his cheeks. Instead, Draco's insomnia was caused by a Mudblood Gryffindor whom he was simultaneously blessing and cursing.
Hermione Granger had been the object of his affections for the past year and a half. Not that his conduct had betrayed it, of course.
And now she was going to make him apologize to arguably his three least favorite people: Potter, Weasley, and, Longbottom.
If Hermione had been trying to punish him, she could not have done more damage with the Cruciatus Curse, at least to his pride. And if she hadn't, well, Draco was doing a fairly good job of punishing himself: he was lying in the dark, composing apologies. At least she hadn't said 'publicly', but 'verbally' and 'sincerely' were bad enough.
They would laugh at him, Draco knew. He could not stand being laughed at, whether it was his father's low sneer or the collective ha-ha's of Hogwarts. He was sure it would be the latter.
Sighing, he swung his feet onto the cold stone floor and padded over to the canopy bed opposite his, where, despite the best attempts of its occupant, wand light was shining through the cloth.
Draco insinuated himself through the curtains and caught Blaise Zabini curled up with the latest edition of 'Hogwarts, A History'. He looked up and gave Draco a small smile.
"Can't sleep?" Draco sat down on the side of the bed, pushing a strand of hair out of his eyes.
Blaise closed his book. "No. Besides, Nott said he'd gag me if I screamed through one more night."
Draco privately resolved to have a talk with the inconsiderate Nott, but he knew Blaise hated pity, so he continued with his original purpose. "Is Lilith--?"
Blaise shifted under the bedclothes and a fluffy white head popped up from behind him. The Persian cat untangled herself fastidiously and padded over to Draco, who gathered her up in his arms. "She came to keep me company, probably got tired of waiting for you."
"Yeah." Draco lay back across the foot of the bed, burying his face in his cat.
Blaise pushed the better part of the coverlet over Draco's feet, as they were looking a bit blue. "How was detention?"
"As well as can be expected under the present circumstances, thank you," Draco said wryly as Lilith jumped off of his head.
"Sorry. What took so long?"
"The usual. Filch was being a pain in the bum."
Blaise laughed and made Lilith a nest in the covers. "So no more Platyform Charms?"
"Yeah." Draco scooped up his cat and reached into his dressing robe pocket with his free hand. He handed a small vial to Blaise. "For dreamless sleep."
The look in his soft green eyes made Draco forget the cold completely. Blaise hugged him awkwardly, one-armed around the head, and Draco tiptoed back to his bed. Once there, he rearranged the pillows, fluffing one up for Lilith and, stuffing two under his own head, he lay down to think.
Blaise had nightmares, blindingly vivid dreams about things he could only tell Draco in breathless, halting fragments. They had started at the beginning of the boys' third year, when Dementors had stopped the Hogwarts' Express and searched each compartment for Sirius Black.
Draco had relived awful memories that day, but Blaise's had stayed with him: two or three nights a week he would wake, screaming his throat raw into the darkness.
Crabbe and Goyle usually slept through it. Nott, a half-blood who had no idea what the matter was with his roommate, would roll over, tell Blaise to shut up, and go back to sleep.
Draco always got up, not quite knowing why, to do everything from hold Blaise's head while he retched to sit with him as he cried. Blaise was one of his few real friends and Draco didn't care that his father was in Azkaban or that he lived with Muggles because his mother, Voldemort's former third in command, had disappeared after he was born.
When they had done Dreamless Sleep in Potions a week before, Draco had contrived to retrieve quite a lot of it, with Blaise in mind. He felt very much like taking a vial himself, right now.
Hermione Granger lay in the warm darkness of Gryffindor Tower, wondering if Draco would really make peace and thinking that if he was going to, she should have added Hagrid to the list.
Her last thought before sleep was that Draco Malfoy had very eerie silver eyes.