Not Only In Dreams
By Goddess JacquesPierre
Chapter Three
Disclaimer: (ah, knew I was forgetting something) Nothing's mine except most of the ideas and the wording. Imagine the results if a rabid H/D shipper got his or her hands on the Harry Potter franchise...
In the movies: "Tom, move your knee a bit closer to Dan's waist! Yes! That's the ticket! Now lean over... brilliant..."
In the shops: Anatomically correct, posable action figures...
In the books: [see below]
Author's Note: Kudos to everyone who spots the blatant-- I can't even call it a reference. Fine, then, the blatant Terry Pratchett rip-off. I only borrowed a bit; I was stuck for names. If the next chapter is a long time in coming, blame it on the huge pile of research I'm doing for the fic. I have about seven thousand dream interpretation books I'm going to have to wade through to keep my Draco and my Hermione in character, because as the author (read: mad, obsessed fangirl who got her hands on a computer and discovered fanfiction), I have to either know more than them about whatever they know about or make it up, and some things you can't make up. Blargh. I'm going to have to do a works consulted page now, too, see what you've made me do?
-----
Harry sighed. "You know that dream I had the other night? The one you guys saw in Defense Against the Dark Arts?"
Hermione nodded.
"Well... Malfoy had the same dream as me. Exactly the same dream."
Hermione fell off her chair. "Exactly?"
Harry nodded. "We were even dreaming at the same time."
"So... why are you telling me this?"
"You're the only awesome has-every-book-in-the-library-memorised friend I have."
Hermione blushed. "I do not!" It was supposed to be indignant, but Harry caught the flush of pleasure under her words.
"Anyway... do you know if there's any significance to this dreaming-the-same-thing-at-the-same-time thing?"
Hermione shook her head. "Nope, no idea."
It was Harry's turn to fall abruptly out of his chair. "You don't know? You've never heard of anything like this, ever?"
Hermione rolled her eyes. "I may seem to be a fount of knowledge, but I don't know everything!"
"Oh." Harry stood up awkwardly. "Will you help me research this, then?"
"All right..."
Harry grinned. "Thanks, Hermione!" He wandered off to find a book.
-----
One completely fruitless search of the library later, Harry found himself in Potions with two Slytherins irritated with him. One of them, Professor Severus Snape, was merely being unpleasant to Harry on principle, but the blonde Harry had been forced to work with was actually disgruntled.
"What do you mean, Hermione didn't know anything?" Draco hissed over the bubbling cauldron.
"She said she didn't! But she's going to help me research it."
Draco brandished his knife. "I was up practically all last night in the library! I couldn't find anything!"
Harry flinched before Draco set to viciously cutting his Big Ugly Beetle (named by Leonard da Quirm, a brilliant wizard with absolutely no creative naming genius whatsoever). "Practically all last night?"
"Well, I fell asleep for a couple of hours... I had this dream...." Draco did not seem to want to discuss it.
"Let me guess," said Harry dryly. "Sixty-Ninth Educational Decree from the Ministry of Magic?"
"You, too? Again?"
Harry nodded.
"I'm writing my father," said Draco.
Harry blanched.
"I'm not telling him what's going on! I'm just going to ask him to owl me any books on magical dreams we have in the Manor library."
"You think there are going to be any books in your library that aren't here?"
"More than likely, Potter, ours is the largest magical library in Europe. Furthermore, we have a much less restricted selection of books." Draco arched a blonde eyebrow. "Did you really expect to find any information about erotic dreams in the Hogwart's library?"
Harry shrugged. "You were the one up all night looking."
"You'd better watch it, Potter; I'm tempted to hex you into oblivion."
"Better watch out if you try-- remember Ginny's Bat-Bogey Hex?"
The two boys spent the rest of the lesson bickering quietly, but it lacked the edge it had had before their "duel" the previous evening.
-----
Dear Father,
The Hogwart's library has, predictably, failed to rise to the level of challenge I require to find myself intellectually stimulated. As such, could you please send me any books we have dealing with magical dreams?
Your son,
Draco
-----
After a hard Quidditch practice, Harry felt like he should go back to the library and double-check Draco's work-- make sure there wasn't anything Draco had overlooked, but he felt his eyelids threatening to close even as he was rinsing off in the shower afterwards. Instead, he wearily climbed the staircase leading to his dorm and collapsed on his four-poster, having technically fallen asleep halfway across the room. The moment his head hit the pillow, he dreamed.
-----
Harry saw two more towering, hooded dementors, standing guard on either side. A wave of cold sickness threatened to engulf him again; he leaned back into the lumpy seat and closed his eyes until they had passed the gates. The carriage picked up speed on the long, sloping driveway up to the castle; Hermione was leaning out of the tiny window, watching the many towers and turrets draw nearer. At last, the carriage swayed to a halt, and Hermione and Ron got out.
As Harry stepped down, a drawling, delighted voice sounded in his ear. "You fainted, Potter? Is Longbottom telling the truth? You actually fainted?"
Malfoy elbowed past Hermione to block Harry's way up the stone steps to the castle, his face gleeful and his pale eyes glinting.
The entire student body of the school surged around them as Harry tried to stare Draco down. Soon, they were left alone, each gazing into the eyes of the other.
A mask seemed to drop from Draco's face; Harry fancied he heard the tinkle of broken glass on the concrete walkway beneath their feet.
"I'd catch you if I could," Draco said earnestly. "I wouldn't let you fall."
Harry nodded; he found himself unable to disagree with the apparition in front of him. Draco really was beautiful. Silver eyes and gold hair-- one could tell that he came from the most snobbish wizarding family imaginable.
Harry didn't care at the moment.
Then the nausea hit again. Harry heard a scream echoing between his ears-- it was a woman, which made no sense to him; the rest of the school had disappeared-- it was his name she was screaming, which made him feel uncomfortable...
He felt everything go black.
Seven and four-seventeenths of a minute later, Harry was jerked back into color. It was green. Disoriented, Harry tried to figure out his whereabouts-- a grassy field? Under the sea?
It hit him after a while. This must be Slytherin dorm. Harry paused for a moment, getting his bearings. He seemed to be tucked into what was presumably Malfoy's bed.
"Are you okay?" It was Draco asking. Harry's head reeled.
"I hate them," said Harry suddenly. "They're evil."
"I don't care for them myself," Draco said gently. "Chocolate?"
"Thanks."
They sat in silence for a moment.
Harry, having realised he was dreaming, seized partial control of the dream while it was looking the other way. "Why are you being so nice? Aren't you a jerk?"
"Yes. I am not a very nice person, Harry." Harry noted a flicker of disbelief in Draco's eyes. Was it Draco's conscious mind affecting the dream? Why was it working this time around? "I am, however, a not very nice person who is also in love with you."
More silence. They both seemed to be struggling with that in their waking selves, not in whatever bit of their heads came up with these dreams.
Eventually, Draco slid beneath the covers with Harry. "Enough," he said simply. "Sleep."
-----
The next morning, a strange owl into Draco's coffee dropped a heavy parcel. It splashed onto his face, and he scowled as the owl stole his bacon.
He rescued the package and liberated it from its wrapping. In it, he found two books-- "Magical Dreaming" and "The Complete Guide to Dream Interpretation"-- and a note written in his father's script. 'There are more being sent directly to your dorm room', it read. Draco smirked. That was prompt, he thought, as is fitting for a Malfoy.
-----
Later on that day, right after supper, Draco made a point of bumping into Harry, slipping "The Complete Guide to Dream Interpretation" into his bag.
As he turned to go, Harry grabbed his shoulder and tugged him into an adjacent classroom. "That dream-- last night-- the Dementors..."
Draco nodded. "Yes, Potter. Me, too. I'm beginning to see--"
"--a pattern," Harry interrupted. "I'm not stupid; I'm just checking. What were you thinking?"
"When, Potter? I think a lot. It's a side effect of being brilliant."
"When you were dreaming."
Draco blanched, an effect that was extremely interesting on a complexion as pale as his. "I'm not sure, and even if I were, I don't think I would tell you. At least, not yet." He swept off down the corridor in a swirl of robes.
Harry watched him go, stunned and confused. He fingered the spine of the book and wandered off to Gryffindor Tower to read.
-----
Harry curled up in his four-poster and began to thumb through "The Complete Guide to Dream Interpretation". Apparently he was either illicitly lusting after Draco or felt a deep desire to express himself creatively, and the dream where Draco had tied him up signified that he was either feeling out of control of his life, was feeling incestuous, or was into BDSM. There was a complete lack of anything that referenced possible reasons that he and Draco were having simultaneous, identical dreams. However, he now knew what his dreams about flying on a broomstick in front of Cho meant-- the Firebolt was a phallic symbol that indicated he wanted an adventure that was not too far removed from the comforts of home, and that he was frustrated that he was losing Cho, who had clarity of thought. Well, that last bit made sense; he'd definitely lost Cho to Diggory, and she was a Ravenclaw. As far as wanting adventure went, though? He'd had plenty. Harry would be completely content if Voldemort left him, along with the rest of the world, alone for the remainder of either of their lives. Unfortunately, this seemed to be highly unlikely.
Ron walked into the dorm and noticed the book Harry was reading. "What are you looking at that for? I thought you hated Divination?"
"I was just putting it down," Harry said. "You're right, it is a load of bull."
Pigwidgeon flew out of Ron's pocket, fluttering madly around the posts of Harry's bed. She landed next to Harry's pillow, and he was suddenly inspired. "Hey, Ron, can I use Pig?"
Ron grunted, presumably to denote acquiescence.
Harry tugged a bit of parchment out of his bag, and wrote down his interpretation of the dreams, and furtively instructed the miniature owl to deliver his message to Draco. Ron, who seemed to be already asleep, remained oblivious.
-----
Draco was immersed in his own book when Harry's parchment landed right on the page he was in the middle of, so he picked it up curiously and skimmed it. He wrote back: "Well, Potter, what's your take? Repressed creativity or lust?"
-----
Half an hour later, Pigwidgeon returned. Harry read the note attached to her leg, and wrote back: "I haven't seen any evidence of either."
-----
Draco wrote: "Couldn't be creativity, Potter, I doubt you have the capacity."
-----
Harry wrote: "And you do?"
-----
Draco wrote: "Of course I do; I'm a Malfoy. We always are, ah, creative."
-----
Harry wrote: "Sounds like you're suffering both repressed lust and repressed creativity."
-----
Draco wrote: "Do you realise we're passing notes by owl?"
-----
Harry stared at the parchment. "You're kidding," he wrote.
-----
Draco wrote irritably: "What makes you think I'm kidding? We're passing notes like... those two giggly girls in your house, whose names I can't remember. The twin and the one with a name that sounds like a flavour of lotion. Anyway, enough is enough. I'll speak with you tomorrow-- it's Saturday, so we both have Quidditch practice, but we're both free around seven. Meet me at the lake."
-----
Harry wrote: "How the hell do you know when I have Quidditch practice?"
-----
Draco wrote: "I have my ways. Now quit bothering me."
-----
Harry stroked Pigwidgeon, gave her an owl treat, and went down to the Common Room to see if Hermione was still awake. Not surprisingly, she was the last person in the Common Room, entrenched in a mound of books that towered over her head, and only by moving some of them was Harry able to see her face.
"Did you come up with anything, Hermione?"
She shook her head. "Not unless had to do with the trees in the Forbidden Forest being phallic symbols representing your latent, repressed homosexuality."
Harry nodded. "That's about what I got, too."
Hermione shook her head. "I couldn't find anything about why Malfoy had the dream, too. It sounds like some sort of enchantment."
Harry shook his head. "I don't know. I did this spell Draco found in a book, and the dream-- well, his-- said that it was 'completely natural'."
"Draco? Since when are you calling him Draco?"
Harry shrugged. "He asked me to. I couldn't see why not, as we've called a truce. He also said that he's not interesting in supporting Voldemort and that the whole insulting-non-purebloods thing was habit, not malice."
Hermione looked skeptical. "You believe him?"
"Well... he came up with a reason that sounded very much like him." Harry smiled bitterly. "Apparently, Voldemort hasn't got enough fashion sense to merit Malfoy's respect. I'm not so sure about the last bit, but he did apologise when I called him on the 'm' word."
Hermione looked mildly surprised. "Well, that's a change. Anyway, Harry, I wouldn't worry about the dream. It was probably just a coincidence, you two having the same dream-- maybe a side effect of being so antagonistic to each other."
"Hermione, we've been dreaming together for the past three nights."
"Why didn't you say so? That would have really helped-- not that there was anything in the library specifically about your dream, but... if you've been having repeated sex dreams about Malfoy, Harry, then maybe they mean exactly what it seems like they mean: that you're attracted to him for whatever reason. In any event, I really don't want to think about it, so perhaps you'd better sleep on it. It's getting late."
Harry went off to bed, pensive.
-----
Many thanks to mojo-jojo241, coriel, and erin who reviewed, and let it be widely known but especially to chisox727 that Harry is going to have quite a few dreams in the story to come (hence the title, note the word 'dream' in it) and the little '-----' notation means a scene change or a time lapse. All reviews make me happy, and long ones (i.e., more than two sentences) make me jump up and down and go 'squee'.
By Goddess JacquesPierre
Chapter Three
Disclaimer: (ah, knew I was forgetting something) Nothing's mine except most of the ideas and the wording. Imagine the results if a rabid H/D shipper got his or her hands on the Harry Potter franchise...
In the movies: "Tom, move your knee a bit closer to Dan's waist! Yes! That's the ticket! Now lean over... brilliant..."
In the shops: Anatomically correct, posable action figures...
In the books: [see below]
Author's Note: Kudos to everyone who spots the blatant-- I can't even call it a reference. Fine, then, the blatant Terry Pratchett rip-off. I only borrowed a bit; I was stuck for names. If the next chapter is a long time in coming, blame it on the huge pile of research I'm doing for the fic. I have about seven thousand dream interpretation books I'm going to have to wade through to keep my Draco and my Hermione in character, because as the author (read: mad, obsessed fangirl who got her hands on a computer and discovered fanfiction), I have to either know more than them about whatever they know about or make it up, and some things you can't make up. Blargh. I'm going to have to do a works consulted page now, too, see what you've made me do?
-----
Harry sighed. "You know that dream I had the other night? The one you guys saw in Defense Against the Dark Arts?"
Hermione nodded.
"Well... Malfoy had the same dream as me. Exactly the same dream."
Hermione fell off her chair. "Exactly?"
Harry nodded. "We were even dreaming at the same time."
"So... why are you telling me this?"
"You're the only awesome has-every-book-in-the-library-memorised friend I have."
Hermione blushed. "I do not!" It was supposed to be indignant, but Harry caught the flush of pleasure under her words.
"Anyway... do you know if there's any significance to this dreaming-the-same-thing-at-the-same-time thing?"
Hermione shook her head. "Nope, no idea."
It was Harry's turn to fall abruptly out of his chair. "You don't know? You've never heard of anything like this, ever?"
Hermione rolled her eyes. "I may seem to be a fount of knowledge, but I don't know everything!"
"Oh." Harry stood up awkwardly. "Will you help me research this, then?"
"All right..."
Harry grinned. "Thanks, Hermione!" He wandered off to find a book.
-----
One completely fruitless search of the library later, Harry found himself in Potions with two Slytherins irritated with him. One of them, Professor Severus Snape, was merely being unpleasant to Harry on principle, but the blonde Harry had been forced to work with was actually disgruntled.
"What do you mean, Hermione didn't know anything?" Draco hissed over the bubbling cauldron.
"She said she didn't! But she's going to help me research it."
Draco brandished his knife. "I was up practically all last night in the library! I couldn't find anything!"
Harry flinched before Draco set to viciously cutting his Big Ugly Beetle (named by Leonard da Quirm, a brilliant wizard with absolutely no creative naming genius whatsoever). "Practically all last night?"
"Well, I fell asleep for a couple of hours... I had this dream...." Draco did not seem to want to discuss it.
"Let me guess," said Harry dryly. "Sixty-Ninth Educational Decree from the Ministry of Magic?"
"You, too? Again?"
Harry nodded.
"I'm writing my father," said Draco.
Harry blanched.
"I'm not telling him what's going on! I'm just going to ask him to owl me any books on magical dreams we have in the Manor library."
"You think there are going to be any books in your library that aren't here?"
"More than likely, Potter, ours is the largest magical library in Europe. Furthermore, we have a much less restricted selection of books." Draco arched a blonde eyebrow. "Did you really expect to find any information about erotic dreams in the Hogwart's library?"
Harry shrugged. "You were the one up all night looking."
"You'd better watch it, Potter; I'm tempted to hex you into oblivion."
"Better watch out if you try-- remember Ginny's Bat-Bogey Hex?"
The two boys spent the rest of the lesson bickering quietly, but it lacked the edge it had had before their "duel" the previous evening.
-----
Dear Father,
The Hogwart's library has, predictably, failed to rise to the level of challenge I require to find myself intellectually stimulated. As such, could you please send me any books we have dealing with magical dreams?
Your son,
Draco
-----
After a hard Quidditch practice, Harry felt like he should go back to the library and double-check Draco's work-- make sure there wasn't anything Draco had overlooked, but he felt his eyelids threatening to close even as he was rinsing off in the shower afterwards. Instead, he wearily climbed the staircase leading to his dorm and collapsed on his four-poster, having technically fallen asleep halfway across the room. The moment his head hit the pillow, he dreamed.
-----
Harry saw two more towering, hooded dementors, standing guard on either side. A wave of cold sickness threatened to engulf him again; he leaned back into the lumpy seat and closed his eyes until they had passed the gates. The carriage picked up speed on the long, sloping driveway up to the castle; Hermione was leaning out of the tiny window, watching the many towers and turrets draw nearer. At last, the carriage swayed to a halt, and Hermione and Ron got out.
As Harry stepped down, a drawling, delighted voice sounded in his ear. "You fainted, Potter? Is Longbottom telling the truth? You actually fainted?"
Malfoy elbowed past Hermione to block Harry's way up the stone steps to the castle, his face gleeful and his pale eyes glinting.
The entire student body of the school surged around them as Harry tried to stare Draco down. Soon, they were left alone, each gazing into the eyes of the other.
A mask seemed to drop from Draco's face; Harry fancied he heard the tinkle of broken glass on the concrete walkway beneath their feet.
"I'd catch you if I could," Draco said earnestly. "I wouldn't let you fall."
Harry nodded; he found himself unable to disagree with the apparition in front of him. Draco really was beautiful. Silver eyes and gold hair-- one could tell that he came from the most snobbish wizarding family imaginable.
Harry didn't care at the moment.
Then the nausea hit again. Harry heard a scream echoing between his ears-- it was a woman, which made no sense to him; the rest of the school had disappeared-- it was his name she was screaming, which made him feel uncomfortable...
He felt everything go black.
Seven and four-seventeenths of a minute later, Harry was jerked back into color. It was green. Disoriented, Harry tried to figure out his whereabouts-- a grassy field? Under the sea?
It hit him after a while. This must be Slytherin dorm. Harry paused for a moment, getting his bearings. He seemed to be tucked into what was presumably Malfoy's bed.
"Are you okay?" It was Draco asking. Harry's head reeled.
"I hate them," said Harry suddenly. "They're evil."
"I don't care for them myself," Draco said gently. "Chocolate?"
"Thanks."
They sat in silence for a moment.
Harry, having realised he was dreaming, seized partial control of the dream while it was looking the other way. "Why are you being so nice? Aren't you a jerk?"
"Yes. I am not a very nice person, Harry." Harry noted a flicker of disbelief in Draco's eyes. Was it Draco's conscious mind affecting the dream? Why was it working this time around? "I am, however, a not very nice person who is also in love with you."
More silence. They both seemed to be struggling with that in their waking selves, not in whatever bit of their heads came up with these dreams.
Eventually, Draco slid beneath the covers with Harry. "Enough," he said simply. "Sleep."
-----
The next morning, a strange owl into Draco's coffee dropped a heavy parcel. It splashed onto his face, and he scowled as the owl stole his bacon.
He rescued the package and liberated it from its wrapping. In it, he found two books-- "Magical Dreaming" and "The Complete Guide to Dream Interpretation"-- and a note written in his father's script. 'There are more being sent directly to your dorm room', it read. Draco smirked. That was prompt, he thought, as is fitting for a Malfoy.
-----
Later on that day, right after supper, Draco made a point of bumping into Harry, slipping "The Complete Guide to Dream Interpretation" into his bag.
As he turned to go, Harry grabbed his shoulder and tugged him into an adjacent classroom. "That dream-- last night-- the Dementors..."
Draco nodded. "Yes, Potter. Me, too. I'm beginning to see--"
"--a pattern," Harry interrupted. "I'm not stupid; I'm just checking. What were you thinking?"
"When, Potter? I think a lot. It's a side effect of being brilliant."
"When you were dreaming."
Draco blanched, an effect that was extremely interesting on a complexion as pale as his. "I'm not sure, and even if I were, I don't think I would tell you. At least, not yet." He swept off down the corridor in a swirl of robes.
Harry watched him go, stunned and confused. He fingered the spine of the book and wandered off to Gryffindor Tower to read.
-----
Harry curled up in his four-poster and began to thumb through "The Complete Guide to Dream Interpretation". Apparently he was either illicitly lusting after Draco or felt a deep desire to express himself creatively, and the dream where Draco had tied him up signified that he was either feeling out of control of his life, was feeling incestuous, or was into BDSM. There was a complete lack of anything that referenced possible reasons that he and Draco were having simultaneous, identical dreams. However, he now knew what his dreams about flying on a broomstick in front of Cho meant-- the Firebolt was a phallic symbol that indicated he wanted an adventure that was not too far removed from the comforts of home, and that he was frustrated that he was losing Cho, who had clarity of thought. Well, that last bit made sense; he'd definitely lost Cho to Diggory, and she was a Ravenclaw. As far as wanting adventure went, though? He'd had plenty. Harry would be completely content if Voldemort left him, along with the rest of the world, alone for the remainder of either of their lives. Unfortunately, this seemed to be highly unlikely.
Ron walked into the dorm and noticed the book Harry was reading. "What are you looking at that for? I thought you hated Divination?"
"I was just putting it down," Harry said. "You're right, it is a load of bull."
Pigwidgeon flew out of Ron's pocket, fluttering madly around the posts of Harry's bed. She landed next to Harry's pillow, and he was suddenly inspired. "Hey, Ron, can I use Pig?"
Ron grunted, presumably to denote acquiescence.
Harry tugged a bit of parchment out of his bag, and wrote down his interpretation of the dreams, and furtively instructed the miniature owl to deliver his message to Draco. Ron, who seemed to be already asleep, remained oblivious.
-----
Draco was immersed in his own book when Harry's parchment landed right on the page he was in the middle of, so he picked it up curiously and skimmed it. He wrote back: "Well, Potter, what's your take? Repressed creativity or lust?"
-----
Half an hour later, Pigwidgeon returned. Harry read the note attached to her leg, and wrote back: "I haven't seen any evidence of either."
-----
Draco wrote: "Couldn't be creativity, Potter, I doubt you have the capacity."
-----
Harry wrote: "And you do?"
-----
Draco wrote: "Of course I do; I'm a Malfoy. We always are, ah, creative."
-----
Harry wrote: "Sounds like you're suffering both repressed lust and repressed creativity."
-----
Draco wrote: "Do you realise we're passing notes by owl?"
-----
Harry stared at the parchment. "You're kidding," he wrote.
-----
Draco wrote irritably: "What makes you think I'm kidding? We're passing notes like... those two giggly girls in your house, whose names I can't remember. The twin and the one with a name that sounds like a flavour of lotion. Anyway, enough is enough. I'll speak with you tomorrow-- it's Saturday, so we both have Quidditch practice, but we're both free around seven. Meet me at the lake."
-----
Harry wrote: "How the hell do you know when I have Quidditch practice?"
-----
Draco wrote: "I have my ways. Now quit bothering me."
-----
Harry stroked Pigwidgeon, gave her an owl treat, and went down to the Common Room to see if Hermione was still awake. Not surprisingly, she was the last person in the Common Room, entrenched in a mound of books that towered over her head, and only by moving some of them was Harry able to see her face.
"Did you come up with anything, Hermione?"
She shook her head. "Not unless had to do with the trees in the Forbidden Forest being phallic symbols representing your latent, repressed homosexuality."
Harry nodded. "That's about what I got, too."
Hermione shook her head. "I couldn't find anything about why Malfoy had the dream, too. It sounds like some sort of enchantment."
Harry shook his head. "I don't know. I did this spell Draco found in a book, and the dream-- well, his-- said that it was 'completely natural'."
"Draco? Since when are you calling him Draco?"
Harry shrugged. "He asked me to. I couldn't see why not, as we've called a truce. He also said that he's not interesting in supporting Voldemort and that the whole insulting-non-purebloods thing was habit, not malice."
Hermione looked skeptical. "You believe him?"
"Well... he came up with a reason that sounded very much like him." Harry smiled bitterly. "Apparently, Voldemort hasn't got enough fashion sense to merit Malfoy's respect. I'm not so sure about the last bit, but he did apologise when I called him on the 'm' word."
Hermione looked mildly surprised. "Well, that's a change. Anyway, Harry, I wouldn't worry about the dream. It was probably just a coincidence, you two having the same dream-- maybe a side effect of being so antagonistic to each other."
"Hermione, we've been dreaming together for the past three nights."
"Why didn't you say so? That would have really helped-- not that there was anything in the library specifically about your dream, but... if you've been having repeated sex dreams about Malfoy, Harry, then maybe they mean exactly what it seems like they mean: that you're attracted to him for whatever reason. In any event, I really don't want to think about it, so perhaps you'd better sleep on it. It's getting late."
Harry went off to bed, pensive.
-----
Many thanks to mojo-jojo241, coriel, and erin who reviewed, and let it be widely known but especially to chisox727 that Harry is going to have quite a few dreams in the story to come (hence the title, note the word 'dream' in it) and the little '-----' notation means a scene change or a time lapse. All reviews make me happy, and long ones (i.e., more than two sentences) make me jump up and down and go 'squee'.