Not Only In Dreams
By Goddess JacquesPierre
Chapter Six: The Slytherin Morning Ritual
Disclaimer: Harry Potter and all associated and/or non-associated things that I don't own do not belong to me. Perhaps it was redundant, but it certainly beats my English substitute, whose comment "Partners is definitely sufficient enough" led me to lose all respect I may have had for her. Anyone who uses the phrase "sufficient enough" should be shot (not necessarily lethal except in the case of the repeat offender. As far as I am concerned, the breed of people who perpetually mix up 'lose' and 'loose' belong in the same category). Moving along, they belong to their respective owners, who are not I. My writing, sarcasm, witty remarks, not-so-witty remarks, comments, ideas, and other creative property, however, do belong to me, and anyone caught filching them without permission will be sentenced to the same fate as those select few for whom loosing their lives is not sufficient enough. (So I didn't feel like coming up with something new. Bite me.)
Author's note: Draco smells like cinnamon-- which represents money, power and lust, each of which have a strong connection to Draco. The reason I specified that the note smells like 'cinnamon and Draco' was that Harry is beginning to put the cinnamon scent and Draco together in his mind. Scent is a bit factor in how one person is attracted to another (pheromones and all that), and when Person A is romantically involved with Person B, they tend to notice and recognise each other's scent. If Person B suddenly smells different, Person A will freak out and try to figure out why.
There are a lot of different factors that go into a person's scent that I've noticed-- what brand of shampoo, conditioner, laundry detergent, deodorant, how their clothes are dried, etc. There is also the personal scent of the person in question. I have arbitrarily decided that these factors all come out to be cinnamon in Draco's case, Merlin knows how, and something else I noticed was that cinnamon plus sweat smells like sex... odd, that one.
-----
Harry slumped on his four-poster. What was Malfoy thinking? Why the chocolate? Not that it wasn't excellent chocolate, mind, but... Harry didn't know what to think. It was all happening so fast-- a week ago, he wouldn't have thought twice about hexing Malfoy so badly he wouldn't be able to walk for the following three days, but now he was actually considering... well, doing OTHER things to Malfoy that would render the blond unable to walk for the following three days. Furthermore, he was having realistic dreams to that effect that were supposed to be the result of the fairy Draco had caught in a bottle essentially removing his hatred for Draco and locking them in a room together!
It was like a scenario out of the novel Harry had stumbled upon when he was cleaning the Dursley's bathroom when he was ten. He had picked it up, curious and hoping to give his chapped hands a chance to heal. It had scarred his mind. The prose had been flowery, watery, and redundant, the plot had been frivolous where it existed at all, the characters had been dull, stereotypical, and one-dimensional, and there had been far too much sex included for any ten-year-old to be within fifteen feet of it.
Now his life resembled it. He certainly hoped, if his life were a book, that the writer would be at least decently competent, but he didn't have his hopes up. However, he wasn't going to be a nice, docile, one-dimensional character for the author to manipulate shamelessly. That, and the sex dreams of Draco were getting out of hand.
Tonight, he was prepared. He had gone down to the kitchens earlier that day and had obtained several highly-caffeinated beverages for the night-- coffee and Mountain Dew (Dobby had bobbled eagerly when Harry had inquired, saying "It is a muggle beverage, but it is helping Winky's Butterbeer addiction muchly, Harry Potter, sir!").
What's more, he would have plenty of time to reflect on Dra-- Malfoy's gift. Odd that the boy he had been fighting with almost as long as he had known he was a wizard would buy such an expensive, tasteful, and oddly appropriate gift for him... If Voldemort started sending him roses, Harry mused, he was going to kill something... perhaps Hagrid's next project for them, it was bound to be both illegal and lethal...
At that point, Ron, Dean, Neville, and Seamus walked in, arguing loudly.
"I don't want him sleeping in here!" Seamus was saying loudly.
"Come on, mate, he's not going to jump you or anything!" Ron protested. "I've got a gay brother, you know, and he hasn't done anything to me!"
Harry realised with a start that they were talking about him.
"Well, that's different, isn't it! You're related!" Seamus spat. "He's lived with you all his life, he knows better than to be attracted to you!"
Dean stepped between Seamus and Ron, facing the former. "Seamus, that was below the belt!"
"Well, it's not like he's ever had a proper girlfriend... he even took Padma Patil to the ball, and didn't think enough of her to dance with her! He's probably queer, too!"
Harry sank beneath his covers, trying to pretend he didn't exist.
Ron had gone red to the tips of his ears. "I like women, thank you very much, even if I'm not much of a dancer!"
Seamus sneered. "Oh? I'd like to see you get a girlfriend, then. You couldn't even get Hermione Granger before some guy from Durmstrang got her!"
"That was more than just 'some guy'; that was Viktor Krum!"
"He may be good at Quidditch, but he's not particularly attractive!"
"Oh?" said Ron. "Were you interested in him?"
Seamus went red, crossed the room in a huff, and closed his curtains so violently that half the curtain rings broke so that he had to reappear for a moment to fix them. They could hear a spell being cast, and then there was silence.
"Sorry about that, Harry," said Neville. "I don't know why he's like that... the same thing happened last year, with the whole Dumbledore-against-the-Ministry fiasco."
"You shouldn't have to put up with him," said Ron. "I may not be completely comfortable with it, but at least I'm not bigoted and nasty about it."
Dean just blushed. "I don't want to talk about it," he said. "Harry is what he is, and there's nothing he can do about it. There'll be enough discussion about it tomorrow; I'm sure he doesn't want to hear us arguing tonight."
Harry smiled gratefully. "Thanks, Dean, Ron, Neville. I appreciate it."
"No problem."
-----
Three liters of Mountain Dew, four cups of coffee, and several visits to the lavatory later, it was morning. Harry was still awake, albeit tired, and quite satisfied with the lack of sexual thoughts he had entertained regarding his delicate blonde nemesis.
Harry shook his head violently. Dra-- Malfoy was neither 'his' nor delicate. Wherever the protective urges he was feeling for the Slytherin had come from, Harry resolved, they could return there immediately. When the mental image of himself as Mrs. Weasley shooing away protective urges (which looked like small fluffy pink bunnies) popped up in his head, he decided it was all due to lack of sleep and promptly ignored the whole matter.
He got out of bed, dressed in a daze, and only tripped twice on the way to the Great Hall for breakfast. He started reviving a little bit halfway through an English muffin and a glass of orange juice. It was at that point that the post arrived. There was the standard stuff-- Daily Prophets for those students that wished to keep up with current events, care packages from home, letters, and, for Harry, a long thin box that looked like it might be a wand wrapped in red paper with a gold ribbon. The entire hall hushed and stared while Harry opened the gift-- he had been the main topic of conversation across the room based on the rumors that had started the previous night. The conversation started up again rather more loudly, however, when Harry lifted the lid of the box, displaying a finely crafted dark chocolate rose with a stem that was apparently made of some kind of sweet that Harry couldn't place despite several visits to Honeyduke's over the years.
While the rest of the school speculated about who would have sent the Boy Who Just Came Out a flower, Harry shot a glance at Draco, who contrived unsuccessfully to look innocent.
Harry put the lid back on the box and slid the box into his bag, unsure of what to do with the gift. He stood loudly and walked out of the Hall, leaving most of his breakfast uneaten. Soon thereafter, Hermione followed him.
-----
Draco had woken that morning distinctly disappointed. There had been no dreams that night.
"Tina!" he hissed into the near-quiet of the early-morning dorm (it would have been silent if Goyle didn't snore at a decibel level that had to be illegal). "Has something happened?"
The fairy appeared quickly. "What is it?"
"I didn't dream last night! Are you all right?" His tone grew noticeably more urgent. "Is Harry all right?"
"We're fine. Harry didn't sleep last night, so you couldn't meet him in your dreams, that's all. Do you need anything else?"
Numbly, Draco shook his head. Tina flew off as Draco lost himself in his thoughts. Why did Harry choose not to sleep? Was Tina correct when she told him that Harry was all right?
Too soon, the rest of his dorm was awake, because Blaise, the morning bird of the Slytherin sixth-year boys, was bouncing about in his daily burst of uncharacteristic early-morning high spirits and saying perky, un-Slytherin-like things in a loud voice.
Half the time, Draco thought he did it to be annoying. The other half of the time, he was convinced that Blaise actually enjoyed waking his housemates-- a scary proposition to be sure. He sat up to contribute his part of their morning ritual.
"Blaise, if you don't shut up, I am going to hex you until you are indistinguishable from a Blast-Ended Skrewt." He said it every morning, Merlin knew why, as Blaise never shut up and Draco never hexed him too badly. It probably had to do with the fact that he liked hearing himself talk, not that he would ever admit that to anyone.
As always, Blaise skipped over and ruffled Draco's hair. Draco growled at him and snatched his wand off his bedside table to brandish it at the offending party. Blaise adopted a mock-frightened demeanor and pretended to cower behind Goyle's bed. It ended up, as it did every morning, in a fierce pillow fight involving the entire room and resulting in a horrible mess.
Breathless from the exertion and almost smiling, Draco mused, 'Who said Slytherins can't have fun?' He then went about his daily routine.
-----
During Arithmancy that morning, Hermione covertly poked Malfoy, who was sitting in front of her, between the shoulder blades with the tip of her quill. He glanced behind him irritably.
"What?" he hissed, irritated his lesson was being interrupted.
"Can we talk after class? It's about Harry."
Draco nodded curtly and went back to listening to Professor Vector.
-----
After class, Hermione grabbed Draco by the sleeve and yanked him into a deserted classroom.
"What are you trying to do to Harry?" she asked. It could have been read as inflammatory, but her tone was completely neutral.
Draco decided to try for honesty. "I don't know what I feel for him, so I'm trying to get him to a point where we can figure it out."
"You caught the Eros's Helper?"
Draco nodded. "And I know what it means, Granger; and despite appearances I am not as conceited or as stupid as I may at times seem."
"Are you fighting it?"
"In the wizarding world, there are times when you know something can be changed and you try to change it. There are also times that you know something cannot be changed and you decide not to harm yourself by essentially flailing yourself against a brick wall until you are completely helpless." He arched an eyebrow. "While Harry seems to be taking the latter course of action, I know there is nothing I can do about the attraction I have for him and am not going to waste my energy trying. I'm not even sure I would change it if I could."
Hermione nodded. "At least one of you two has sense, then. I just wanted to make sure you weren't just sending him gifts to manipulate him--"
"Never miss a trick, do you?"
"--before I told you that I'd like to help you if I can."
Draco stopped dead. "What did you say?"
"I said, I'd like to help you if I can. Harry is my friend, and this is going to cause him pain if we don't bring this to some resolution. He's, well, a bit of an idiot sometimes, and will need at least a nudge in the right direction. If no one stops him, he'll destroy himself before letting himself be the person he was meant to be."
Draco nodded thoughtfully. "Thank you, Granger. I wasn't expecting it, but your help could prove to be most... helpful."
She smiled nervously. "I hope so. By the way... you probably didn't dream last night. Harry didn't sleep; I think he's trying to avoid dreaming. However--" she smirked, causing Draco to jump again-- "We have History of Magic this afternoon, and I've never known him to stay awake through a class yet, even when he's had a full night's worth of sleep."
"My, my, Miss Granger, you've got a devious side. I would never have guessed."
Hermione smiled again. "People are surprising, Draco. Call me Hermione."
Before he could say anything, she was gone.
He watched her leave, and then spoke aloud in the empty room. "Nice exit. Almost as good as one of mine."
-----
Harry swung into his desk in the History of Magic classroom after lunch, half asleep. He had Quidditch practice after class, and he was already bone-tired. Despite the chilly temperature outside, it was cozy and warm in the classroom, and the dull drone of Professor Binn's voice was almost soothing as he described the political intrigue behind the bloody German Goblin Rebellion in 1472.
Harry struggled to stay awake, but he'd never manage to in this class. Besides, there was no way that Draco was asleep at two o'clock in the afternoon. He would be fine. His head drooped onto the desk, and he fell asleep. He dreamed.
-----
"I missed you last night, Harry. Where were you?" Draco asked. They were in a white room. Harry couldn't see any windows or doors, just solid white walls.
Harry just stared.
Draco crossed the room. "I was worried about you." He took a step and placed his hands on Harry's shoulders. "Were you avoiding me?"
Harry found himself breathless. Draco was so close... Harry could see each strand in the lock of hair that was falling into Draco's eyes. He seemed vulnerable-- there was no trace of a sneer on his lips, no hint of malice in his silver eyes. Harry tried to shake it off, to ignore the fact that there was one very attractive blonde standing in front of him. Despite his best efforts, however, Harry found himself... well, attracted to Draco.
"I'm sorry," he found himself saying. "I'm scared of it."
Draco looked startled. "Scared of what?"
"Of..." Harry gestured blankly. "Of this. Of you. Of everything."
Suddenly understanding, Draco nodded. "Of this?" He brushed his lips against Harry's gently and then more insistently, pulling the latter in closer.
Moments later, Harry broke away. "Of that. Of the way it makes me feel." Inside his head, Harry was screaming. This felt like Veritaserum. Why was he spilling his innermost feelings, the ones even he sometimes didn't know about, to a boy he only knew because they argued on a regular basis?
Harry broke out of his thoughts to feel Draco stroking his hair. "Don't worry. You're not more frightened than I am."
Harry stared. "You're frightened?"
"Of course I am, Potter. I'm a Malfoy. Malfoys are always in control of themselves and often of the people around them. Of course I'm a bit... jarred by feelings that I have no power over."
"You don't show it."
Draco smiled. "Thank you. I try."
The room changed. It now had a cozy lit fireplace and was lushly furnished.
Harry jumped back. "What did you do?"
"Room of Requirement, Potter. I didn't need the white any longer." Draco reached out and took Harry's hand, leading him over to the large bed that dominated the middle of the room. "White for new beginnings, color for things already begun. Besides, it was getting a little creepy."
"Hmmm, color for things already begun... is that an invitation?"
"Only if you don't have a better idea."
Harry sat down on the bed next to Draco, who had made himself comfortable and was lounging on his side in a position that Harry found very tempting.
Draco picked up Harry's wrist and tugged in such a way that Harry went sprawling over Draco.
"Geez, Draco!" exclaimed Harry.
"Shut up." Draco kissed him.
After that, Harry's thoughts lost coherence.
Some time later, Draco stretched out. His pale skin contrasted beautifully with the dark sheets on the bed. "Mmmm... thanks for coming, Harry. I really did miss you."
At that point, Harry was completely content to just to watch Draco. However, there was something sharp poking into his back repeatedly.
The dream dissolved as Harry tried to hold on to the gentle, peaceful feeling that was covering him...
-----
Harry woke abruptly to find himself in the History of Magic classroom with Hermione poking him insistently in the back with her quill. He lifted his head off the desk to see Professor Binns completely absent and the rest of the class staring at him-- half seemed amused and the other half seemed disgusted.
"Hermione," said Harry carefully, "what is going on?"
Hermione was giggling. "I'm sorry, Harry--" giggle-- "but the next time you want to have a sex dream in the middle of class--" laughter-- "please, try not to talk in your sleep." She dissolved into helpless mirth again.
Oh no, thought Harry. This was not good.
-----
So... is Seamus's violently homophobic attitude bigotry, ignorance, or his own repressed homosexual urges? (I definitely have been reading too much about Freud).
Any good? Of course, the last time I asked that I got all of one review, so maybe I should cease and desist...
In any event, I'm going to be away for a few days doing various things, so you won't get any more of this until probably the second or third-- Friday or Saturday. I shall probably have all sorts of ideas when I get back, though, so look forward to it.
Many thanks to chisox727. I must agree, Draco isn't as wimpy as the movie portrayed him as being-- but one can't have anything, and that one image of him pressed up against a rock with a wand at his throat is priceless. Besides, no movie could ever measure up to the books, if only for time constraints.
By Goddess JacquesPierre
Chapter Six: The Slytherin Morning Ritual
Disclaimer: Harry Potter and all associated and/or non-associated things that I don't own do not belong to me. Perhaps it was redundant, but it certainly beats my English substitute, whose comment "Partners is definitely sufficient enough" led me to lose all respect I may have had for her. Anyone who uses the phrase "sufficient enough" should be shot (not necessarily lethal except in the case of the repeat offender. As far as I am concerned, the breed of people who perpetually mix up 'lose' and 'loose' belong in the same category). Moving along, they belong to their respective owners, who are not I. My writing, sarcasm, witty remarks, not-so-witty remarks, comments, ideas, and other creative property, however, do belong to me, and anyone caught filching them without permission will be sentenced to the same fate as those select few for whom loosing their lives is not sufficient enough. (So I didn't feel like coming up with something new. Bite me.)
Author's note: Draco smells like cinnamon-- which represents money, power and lust, each of which have a strong connection to Draco. The reason I specified that the note smells like 'cinnamon and Draco' was that Harry is beginning to put the cinnamon scent and Draco together in his mind. Scent is a bit factor in how one person is attracted to another (pheromones and all that), and when Person A is romantically involved with Person B, they tend to notice and recognise each other's scent. If Person B suddenly smells different, Person A will freak out and try to figure out why.
There are a lot of different factors that go into a person's scent that I've noticed-- what brand of shampoo, conditioner, laundry detergent, deodorant, how their clothes are dried, etc. There is also the personal scent of the person in question. I have arbitrarily decided that these factors all come out to be cinnamon in Draco's case, Merlin knows how, and something else I noticed was that cinnamon plus sweat smells like sex... odd, that one.
-----
Harry slumped on his four-poster. What was Malfoy thinking? Why the chocolate? Not that it wasn't excellent chocolate, mind, but... Harry didn't know what to think. It was all happening so fast-- a week ago, he wouldn't have thought twice about hexing Malfoy so badly he wouldn't be able to walk for the following three days, but now he was actually considering... well, doing OTHER things to Malfoy that would render the blond unable to walk for the following three days. Furthermore, he was having realistic dreams to that effect that were supposed to be the result of the fairy Draco had caught in a bottle essentially removing his hatred for Draco and locking them in a room together!
It was like a scenario out of the novel Harry had stumbled upon when he was cleaning the Dursley's bathroom when he was ten. He had picked it up, curious and hoping to give his chapped hands a chance to heal. It had scarred his mind. The prose had been flowery, watery, and redundant, the plot had been frivolous where it existed at all, the characters had been dull, stereotypical, and one-dimensional, and there had been far too much sex included for any ten-year-old to be within fifteen feet of it.
Now his life resembled it. He certainly hoped, if his life were a book, that the writer would be at least decently competent, but he didn't have his hopes up. However, he wasn't going to be a nice, docile, one-dimensional character for the author to manipulate shamelessly. That, and the sex dreams of Draco were getting out of hand.
Tonight, he was prepared. He had gone down to the kitchens earlier that day and had obtained several highly-caffeinated beverages for the night-- coffee and Mountain Dew (Dobby had bobbled eagerly when Harry had inquired, saying "It is a muggle beverage, but it is helping Winky's Butterbeer addiction muchly, Harry Potter, sir!").
What's more, he would have plenty of time to reflect on Dra-- Malfoy's gift. Odd that the boy he had been fighting with almost as long as he had known he was a wizard would buy such an expensive, tasteful, and oddly appropriate gift for him... If Voldemort started sending him roses, Harry mused, he was going to kill something... perhaps Hagrid's next project for them, it was bound to be both illegal and lethal...
At that point, Ron, Dean, Neville, and Seamus walked in, arguing loudly.
"I don't want him sleeping in here!" Seamus was saying loudly.
"Come on, mate, he's not going to jump you or anything!" Ron protested. "I've got a gay brother, you know, and he hasn't done anything to me!"
Harry realised with a start that they were talking about him.
"Well, that's different, isn't it! You're related!" Seamus spat. "He's lived with you all his life, he knows better than to be attracted to you!"
Dean stepped between Seamus and Ron, facing the former. "Seamus, that was below the belt!"
"Well, it's not like he's ever had a proper girlfriend... he even took Padma Patil to the ball, and didn't think enough of her to dance with her! He's probably queer, too!"
Harry sank beneath his covers, trying to pretend he didn't exist.
Ron had gone red to the tips of his ears. "I like women, thank you very much, even if I'm not much of a dancer!"
Seamus sneered. "Oh? I'd like to see you get a girlfriend, then. You couldn't even get Hermione Granger before some guy from Durmstrang got her!"
"That was more than just 'some guy'; that was Viktor Krum!"
"He may be good at Quidditch, but he's not particularly attractive!"
"Oh?" said Ron. "Were you interested in him?"
Seamus went red, crossed the room in a huff, and closed his curtains so violently that half the curtain rings broke so that he had to reappear for a moment to fix them. They could hear a spell being cast, and then there was silence.
"Sorry about that, Harry," said Neville. "I don't know why he's like that... the same thing happened last year, with the whole Dumbledore-against-the-Ministry fiasco."
"You shouldn't have to put up with him," said Ron. "I may not be completely comfortable with it, but at least I'm not bigoted and nasty about it."
Dean just blushed. "I don't want to talk about it," he said. "Harry is what he is, and there's nothing he can do about it. There'll be enough discussion about it tomorrow; I'm sure he doesn't want to hear us arguing tonight."
Harry smiled gratefully. "Thanks, Dean, Ron, Neville. I appreciate it."
"No problem."
-----
Three liters of Mountain Dew, four cups of coffee, and several visits to the lavatory later, it was morning. Harry was still awake, albeit tired, and quite satisfied with the lack of sexual thoughts he had entertained regarding his delicate blonde nemesis.
Harry shook his head violently. Dra-- Malfoy was neither 'his' nor delicate. Wherever the protective urges he was feeling for the Slytherin had come from, Harry resolved, they could return there immediately. When the mental image of himself as Mrs. Weasley shooing away protective urges (which looked like small fluffy pink bunnies) popped up in his head, he decided it was all due to lack of sleep and promptly ignored the whole matter.
He got out of bed, dressed in a daze, and only tripped twice on the way to the Great Hall for breakfast. He started reviving a little bit halfway through an English muffin and a glass of orange juice. It was at that point that the post arrived. There was the standard stuff-- Daily Prophets for those students that wished to keep up with current events, care packages from home, letters, and, for Harry, a long thin box that looked like it might be a wand wrapped in red paper with a gold ribbon. The entire hall hushed and stared while Harry opened the gift-- he had been the main topic of conversation across the room based on the rumors that had started the previous night. The conversation started up again rather more loudly, however, when Harry lifted the lid of the box, displaying a finely crafted dark chocolate rose with a stem that was apparently made of some kind of sweet that Harry couldn't place despite several visits to Honeyduke's over the years.
While the rest of the school speculated about who would have sent the Boy Who Just Came Out a flower, Harry shot a glance at Draco, who contrived unsuccessfully to look innocent.
Harry put the lid back on the box and slid the box into his bag, unsure of what to do with the gift. He stood loudly and walked out of the Hall, leaving most of his breakfast uneaten. Soon thereafter, Hermione followed him.
-----
Draco had woken that morning distinctly disappointed. There had been no dreams that night.
"Tina!" he hissed into the near-quiet of the early-morning dorm (it would have been silent if Goyle didn't snore at a decibel level that had to be illegal). "Has something happened?"
The fairy appeared quickly. "What is it?"
"I didn't dream last night! Are you all right?" His tone grew noticeably more urgent. "Is Harry all right?"
"We're fine. Harry didn't sleep last night, so you couldn't meet him in your dreams, that's all. Do you need anything else?"
Numbly, Draco shook his head. Tina flew off as Draco lost himself in his thoughts. Why did Harry choose not to sleep? Was Tina correct when she told him that Harry was all right?
Too soon, the rest of his dorm was awake, because Blaise, the morning bird of the Slytherin sixth-year boys, was bouncing about in his daily burst of uncharacteristic early-morning high spirits and saying perky, un-Slytherin-like things in a loud voice.
Half the time, Draco thought he did it to be annoying. The other half of the time, he was convinced that Blaise actually enjoyed waking his housemates-- a scary proposition to be sure. He sat up to contribute his part of their morning ritual.
"Blaise, if you don't shut up, I am going to hex you until you are indistinguishable from a Blast-Ended Skrewt." He said it every morning, Merlin knew why, as Blaise never shut up and Draco never hexed him too badly. It probably had to do with the fact that he liked hearing himself talk, not that he would ever admit that to anyone.
As always, Blaise skipped over and ruffled Draco's hair. Draco growled at him and snatched his wand off his bedside table to brandish it at the offending party. Blaise adopted a mock-frightened demeanor and pretended to cower behind Goyle's bed. It ended up, as it did every morning, in a fierce pillow fight involving the entire room and resulting in a horrible mess.
Breathless from the exertion and almost smiling, Draco mused, 'Who said Slytherins can't have fun?' He then went about his daily routine.
-----
During Arithmancy that morning, Hermione covertly poked Malfoy, who was sitting in front of her, between the shoulder blades with the tip of her quill. He glanced behind him irritably.
"What?" he hissed, irritated his lesson was being interrupted.
"Can we talk after class? It's about Harry."
Draco nodded curtly and went back to listening to Professor Vector.
-----
After class, Hermione grabbed Draco by the sleeve and yanked him into a deserted classroom.
"What are you trying to do to Harry?" she asked. It could have been read as inflammatory, but her tone was completely neutral.
Draco decided to try for honesty. "I don't know what I feel for him, so I'm trying to get him to a point where we can figure it out."
"You caught the Eros's Helper?"
Draco nodded. "And I know what it means, Granger; and despite appearances I am not as conceited or as stupid as I may at times seem."
"Are you fighting it?"
"In the wizarding world, there are times when you know something can be changed and you try to change it. There are also times that you know something cannot be changed and you decide not to harm yourself by essentially flailing yourself against a brick wall until you are completely helpless." He arched an eyebrow. "While Harry seems to be taking the latter course of action, I know there is nothing I can do about the attraction I have for him and am not going to waste my energy trying. I'm not even sure I would change it if I could."
Hermione nodded. "At least one of you two has sense, then. I just wanted to make sure you weren't just sending him gifts to manipulate him--"
"Never miss a trick, do you?"
"--before I told you that I'd like to help you if I can."
Draco stopped dead. "What did you say?"
"I said, I'd like to help you if I can. Harry is my friend, and this is going to cause him pain if we don't bring this to some resolution. He's, well, a bit of an idiot sometimes, and will need at least a nudge in the right direction. If no one stops him, he'll destroy himself before letting himself be the person he was meant to be."
Draco nodded thoughtfully. "Thank you, Granger. I wasn't expecting it, but your help could prove to be most... helpful."
She smiled nervously. "I hope so. By the way... you probably didn't dream last night. Harry didn't sleep; I think he's trying to avoid dreaming. However--" she smirked, causing Draco to jump again-- "We have History of Magic this afternoon, and I've never known him to stay awake through a class yet, even when he's had a full night's worth of sleep."
"My, my, Miss Granger, you've got a devious side. I would never have guessed."
Hermione smiled again. "People are surprising, Draco. Call me Hermione."
Before he could say anything, she was gone.
He watched her leave, and then spoke aloud in the empty room. "Nice exit. Almost as good as one of mine."
-----
Harry swung into his desk in the History of Magic classroom after lunch, half asleep. He had Quidditch practice after class, and he was already bone-tired. Despite the chilly temperature outside, it was cozy and warm in the classroom, and the dull drone of Professor Binn's voice was almost soothing as he described the political intrigue behind the bloody German Goblin Rebellion in 1472.
Harry struggled to stay awake, but he'd never manage to in this class. Besides, there was no way that Draco was asleep at two o'clock in the afternoon. He would be fine. His head drooped onto the desk, and he fell asleep. He dreamed.
-----
"I missed you last night, Harry. Where were you?" Draco asked. They were in a white room. Harry couldn't see any windows or doors, just solid white walls.
Harry just stared.
Draco crossed the room. "I was worried about you." He took a step and placed his hands on Harry's shoulders. "Were you avoiding me?"
Harry found himself breathless. Draco was so close... Harry could see each strand in the lock of hair that was falling into Draco's eyes. He seemed vulnerable-- there was no trace of a sneer on his lips, no hint of malice in his silver eyes. Harry tried to shake it off, to ignore the fact that there was one very attractive blonde standing in front of him. Despite his best efforts, however, Harry found himself... well, attracted to Draco.
"I'm sorry," he found himself saying. "I'm scared of it."
Draco looked startled. "Scared of what?"
"Of..." Harry gestured blankly. "Of this. Of you. Of everything."
Suddenly understanding, Draco nodded. "Of this?" He brushed his lips against Harry's gently and then more insistently, pulling the latter in closer.
Moments later, Harry broke away. "Of that. Of the way it makes me feel." Inside his head, Harry was screaming. This felt like Veritaserum. Why was he spilling his innermost feelings, the ones even he sometimes didn't know about, to a boy he only knew because they argued on a regular basis?
Harry broke out of his thoughts to feel Draco stroking his hair. "Don't worry. You're not more frightened than I am."
Harry stared. "You're frightened?"
"Of course I am, Potter. I'm a Malfoy. Malfoys are always in control of themselves and often of the people around them. Of course I'm a bit... jarred by feelings that I have no power over."
"You don't show it."
Draco smiled. "Thank you. I try."
The room changed. It now had a cozy lit fireplace and was lushly furnished.
Harry jumped back. "What did you do?"
"Room of Requirement, Potter. I didn't need the white any longer." Draco reached out and took Harry's hand, leading him over to the large bed that dominated the middle of the room. "White for new beginnings, color for things already begun. Besides, it was getting a little creepy."
"Hmmm, color for things already begun... is that an invitation?"
"Only if you don't have a better idea."
Harry sat down on the bed next to Draco, who had made himself comfortable and was lounging on his side in a position that Harry found very tempting.
Draco picked up Harry's wrist and tugged in such a way that Harry went sprawling over Draco.
"Geez, Draco!" exclaimed Harry.
"Shut up." Draco kissed him.
After that, Harry's thoughts lost coherence.
Some time later, Draco stretched out. His pale skin contrasted beautifully with the dark sheets on the bed. "Mmmm... thanks for coming, Harry. I really did miss you."
At that point, Harry was completely content to just to watch Draco. However, there was something sharp poking into his back repeatedly.
The dream dissolved as Harry tried to hold on to the gentle, peaceful feeling that was covering him...
-----
Harry woke abruptly to find himself in the History of Magic classroom with Hermione poking him insistently in the back with her quill. He lifted his head off the desk to see Professor Binns completely absent and the rest of the class staring at him-- half seemed amused and the other half seemed disgusted.
"Hermione," said Harry carefully, "what is going on?"
Hermione was giggling. "I'm sorry, Harry--" giggle-- "but the next time you want to have a sex dream in the middle of class--" laughter-- "please, try not to talk in your sleep." She dissolved into helpless mirth again.
Oh no, thought Harry. This was not good.
-----
So... is Seamus's violently homophobic attitude bigotry, ignorance, or his own repressed homosexual urges? (I definitely have been reading too much about Freud).
Any good? Of course, the last time I asked that I got all of one review, so maybe I should cease and desist...
In any event, I'm going to be away for a few days doing various things, so you won't get any more of this until probably the second or third-- Friday or Saturday. I shall probably have all sorts of ideas when I get back, though, so look forward to it.
Many thanks to chisox727. I must agree, Draco isn't as wimpy as the movie portrayed him as being-- but one can't have anything, and that one image of him pressed up against a rock with a wand at his throat is priceless. Besides, no movie could ever measure up to the books, if only for time constraints.