Warning: Language, Sex, violence and Slash! OH MY!
A/N: I don't own anything good of this story. (Ms. Rowling STILL isn't returning my calls.) * pout *
Summary: Harry just had a mindfuck. Literally. Curious as to what was going on in Ron's head, Harry ventured into the redhead's dreams. Well, at least now he knows! But what will he do with this information?? Read on and find out.
P.S. My humble thanks go out to Fran, my loyal reviewer. You're the one keepin' me writing girl! Thank you.
~*~
9:17
Harry awoke the next morning with a lust for life he hadn't known in years; for the first time in a long time, he welcomed the morning. Still half- dazed, half-unbelieving the night before, Harry leaned over his bed to look for his friend.
Ron was asleep and, thankfully, back on his bed. Harry sat and watched him, shaking his head all the while. 'Who knew he had such an imagination?' Ron answered him with a loud snore before rolling over. Refusing to let Ron, or anyone else, find him spying (again), Harry got up and took a very, very long shower.
The invigoratingly hot water helped to wash the sticky remnants of last night away. It also helped Harry to think. Being that it was Saturday, thankfully, he could stand there and let the hot water descend upon him all day. And, considering the number of thoughts going through his head, he very well may need all day to sort them out. One thought stood out in his mind above all others: What now?
He could go on about his day pretending that nothing happened, he thought. A wicked smile crossed his wet face - 'but that wouldn't be any fun.'
He could tell Ron how he felt. The smile quickly faded - 'but I don't even know how I feel.'
As exciting as it was last night, Harry couldn't quite put his finger on what it was that excited him. Was it the fact that Ron got on him? Or was it the fact that he was able to watch Ron get on him? It was a tough choice, to say the least. Harry leaned against the shower wall and closed his eyes, hoping it would help.
'Okay, I'm feeling desire. Yes. That's true - but for what? I can't very well go tell Ron that I want him if I don't truly know it for a fact.' The lines in Harry's brow deepened. 'I can't hurt him like that.' Lightly bouncing his head off the wall, he tried to think. 'It's just that, I don't have anything to compare him to.' And that was the truth.
Harry, even though he had been in relationships before, had never actually gotten very far - physically at least. Ron had always laughed at him for being a "prude". It's not that Harry didn't want to experience sex, he just hadn't found the right person. 'Yet.' And he wasn't keen on the idea of whoring himself around Hogwarts. Harry already had a reputation that followed him, much to his disgust, and he would be damned before he brought another one on himself.
"The-boy-who-lived-and-then-fucked-everyone." Harry laughed softly, his tone bitter.
'Wait a sec-' his eyes opened. 'Maybe I won't have to.'
A wicked little grin found its way to Harry's lips and made its home there.
He had an idea.
~*~
After an excruciatingly long shower, Harry grabbed his towel and made his way back to the common room. Ron had awaked already and was incoherently flipping through one of his many Quidditch magazines.
Their eyes met - and held - before Ron blushed and turned back to his magazine.
This time, it was Harry's turn to make Ron choke.
"Sleep well, mate?"
'Choke' may be the wrong word. 'Rip the page of his magazine half off' may be more appropriate
"W-what?" Ron stuttered.
Harry laughed and repeated his question, this time annoyingly slow. "Did you sleep well?"
Recovering, Ron answered. "Yeah. You?"
Mock-thinking about it, he nodded. "Yeah." Still intrigued by Ron's earlier response, Harry decided to play with him. "Dream anything?"
There went the last half of the page.
"Ron?"
"Yeah - no - I mean -" Ron was desperately trying to fix the page, unsuccessfully.
'This shouldn't be so much fun.' Harry couldn't help but chuckle to himself.
Slamming the magazine shut, Ron made a frantic attempt to hide the fact that he was nervous as hell.
Harry continued.
"Yeah? What was the dream about?" Before Ron had a chance to answer, Harry let his towel drop.
~silence~
"Ron?"
~silence~
"RON?"
"Wha?"
Oh god this was fun. He felt horrible for Ron, but he had started this game - no way he was going to stop now.
"You had a dream. And it was about - ?"
Again, before Ron could answer, Harry bent over to pick up his towel, his bare ass in Ron's noticeably red face.
"QUIDDITCH!"
Harry looked over his shoulder and smirked. "Figures."
Deciding that it probably wasn't going to do him any good to continue playing, Harry changed into his clothes. By this point, Ron had started panting a little bit. Not in desire, necessarily, but desire mixed with utter horror.
You couldn't help but feel bad for the boy.
Harry slipped the tee shirt over his head, grabbed his glasses and made his way to the door. "I'll see you at breakfast?"
Ron just nodded a "yes," his mouth still slightly agape.
"Good. Hurry up though." And with that, he was out the door.
After he was sure that Harry had left, Ron let out a colossal sigh. Then promptly started pounding his head into the side of the bed.
~*~
As unbelievable as it was, breakfast was even more enjoyable than his "flirt fest" with Ron. Before him sat hundreds of possibilities; a buffet as it were.
It was a smorgasbord of options.
'Who will it be? Who's the lucky witch or wizard?' The Great Hall was alive with discussion. Bits and pieces of conversations grazed past him; and normally Harry would partake in the ruckus. But not today; he was too busy searching for his next meal.
Harry studied the crowd like a hawk searching for prey. Who would make the perfect victim?
Immediately, Harry dismissed the word "victim." He wasn't going to hurt them, after all. At least, not unless they wanted him to.
The wicked grin, that still hadn't left his face, grew a bit wider.
'Enough horsing around - gotta concentrate.' Harry resumed his search.
Sitting across from him was Hermione, happily munching away on some waffles smothered in strawberry sauce. Instantly, Harry's mind took a turn for the gutter. Imagining her covered in strawberry sauce, Harry looked her over, faintly aware of his tongue running over his lips.
'No. No, not Hermione. Not yet.' He quickly turned his gaze back to his food. The thought of sleeping with his closest friends back to back disturbed him. He laughed at himself again, 'It's not like I'm really going to be shagging them, after all. Just, watching - no harm in watching.'
'Watching them against their will!' A little voice in the back of his head screamed at him. It was his conscience, or what was left of it, trying to regain some control.
He dismissed it.
Scanning the masses once again, Harry's attention was caught by Albus Dumbledore, who had just transfigured his heaping plate of eggs and toast into gumdrops. Laughing out loud a bit, Harry sat and studied him. 'Dumbledore?' What a ridiculous thought! Never once had it crossed Harry's mind to enter one of the professor's dreams.
However -
It wasn't a bad idea. Harry could only imagine what sort of dreams took place in Dumbledore's head. 'Probably battles against Voldemort with a candy cane and lemon drops.' Harry laughed out loud at the thought. No, not Dumbledore. Not yet, at least. Although the thought intrigued him, he needed someone more devious. More enthralling.
'Whose head have I always wanted to get into?'
He needed someone to fit his current mood, and Harry was feeling the need to raise some hell.
The answer hit him like a smack to the head - not because it was an epiphany - but because someone had just hit the back of his head with a muffin.
Surprised and angered, Harry flew around to find himself eye to eye with Draco Malfoy. The bastard had actually moved from his usual seat at the Slytherin table to get a better shot; he was sitting with the Ravenclaw's, his back to their table, arms propped up and leaning back. And, of course, he was smirking.
"Morning, Potter." Malfoy always had a way of pronouncing Harry's last name as if he were spitting it.
Harry narrowed his eyes and spat back, "Mingling with the commoners today, Malfoy?"
Unfazed and unblinking, Draco retorted dramatically, "Yes, a wave of pity washed over me and I had a sudden urge to feed the poor." He cocked his head as he held up a cranberry muffin. "Care for another?" The Ravenclaws around him shifted uncomfortably.
Harry smiled sweetly at him, trying his best to sound amused. "How kind of you. Lowering yourself to help another. I'm so touched, Malfoy." Harry began to get choked up, wiping away a fake tear. "I may cry."
"You would cry, Potter." Draco's eyes were gleaming as he leaned in closer. "Only the weak and damaged cry. Isn't that true, Mudblood?" His attention turned toward Hermione.
"You're one to talk," Harry, who had fully turned around, leaned forward till he was only centimeters away from Draco. "Ferret boy."
"You die the next time you say that." Draco's breath was hot on his face.
Harry's gaze was intense, peering into the fierce ice blue eyes in front of him. The hatred inside him caused his emerald eyes to sparkle with such fire, that he was sure they'd gone red. It was a stand off.
Ideas were creeping into his mind. Draco Malfoy. Fucking around with Ron had been fun, but this pairing could prove to be even more fulfilling. Thoughts of torture and humiliation danced in his head.
One smile and two seconds later, he had made his decision.
Quietly, so that only Malfoy could hear him, he whispered, "You'll do."
This was not what Draco had expected. It confused him; and because his confusion was a direct result of Harry's cheek, it angered him.
His stare caused a chill to creep up Draco's spine, making the blonde hair on his neck stand on end. This angered him even more. And what was worse, he couldn't think of anything to say.
"That's how I like you." Harry's voice was even softer now. "Speechless."
"What?" was all the reply Draco could muster. His mouth had gone dry.
Harry was enjoying the sight of an obviously flustered Malfoy. The power trip was indescribable.
"I'll see you tonight."
And with that, Harry twisted back around, turning his attentions back to his breakfast.
Stunned, it took Draco a second to regain his composure. No one steals his thunder, NO ONE. Especially not that ass of a wizard, Potter. Calmly, Draco made his way back to the Slytherin table, plotting his revenge all the while.
Harry enjoyed the rest of breakfast with the sensation of two holes being burned into the back of his head. He couldn't remember food ever tasting so good.
~*~
Harry spent his Saturday afternoon in the library, plotting. Trying to come up with as many Machiavellian-type scenarios as possible, his face twisting with delight every time he did.
"Ooh, that's good." Harry mentally patted himself on the back as he furiously scribbled his ideas onto paper. Holding the paper away from him, Harry squinted as he scanned the list.
1) Chinese Water Torture 2) Stretching him on the rack 3) Whipping him till he bleeds 4) Beating him till he goes unconscious 5) Hanging him by his toes 6) Starving him 7) Humiliating him in front of his mother
Harry's grin turned to a scowl as he realized his ideas lacked a certain creativity - a creativity that Malfoy deserved. 'For all I know, this is his idea of a good weekend.' No, he wanted Malfoy to suffer. Waking up screaming and in a cold sweat, sort of suffer. 'Flogging him incessantly won't make a dent. I'll have to think up something else.' Harry's pouting session was interrupted by a gasp, followed by a small squeal of delight.
"Harry?"
"Mione?"
"I knew it was you! What on earth are you doing in the Library?" Hermione plopped down, obviously excited to have a studying partner.
"Well, sort of studying, I guess-" Not quite sure if that was at all accurate, Harry figured it was probably the best response.
Hermione beamed, her smile making her face radiant. Harry couldn't help but look at her. 'How have I not noticed that before?' Shaking his head, Harry tuned back in to what she was saying.
"What?"
Rolling her eyes, Hermione repeated herself. "What are you studying for?"
Harry hesitated. Should he tell her what he's really doing? Feeling brave, and curious to see her reaction, he told her. (Not like she'd take him seriously, anyway.)
"Due to years of incessant annoyance and humiliation, I'm preparing to teach Malfoy a lesson in pain. So, I've been gathering a few ideas together, but I'm not really happy with any of them." He smiled and handed her the list. "I was wondering if you had any suggestions to add."
Taken a back by his statement, but curious none the less, Hermione took the list.
Scanned it once.
Scanned it twice.
Handed it back to him.
Then laughed her arse off.
Harry, happy to see her concur with his sense of humor, laughed as well.
'If only she knew-'
Then Hermione surprised him. She started playing along.
"No amount of physical torture will work. That boy is too used to pain."
Harry nodded both in agreement and to urge her to continue.
"What you need to do, if you really want to get him," she paused. "I can't believe I'm saying this-"
"What?" Harry chuckled.
"He hates losing control."
"Right."
"And he hates you-"
Starting to put it together, Harry replied slowly, "Riiight-"
"So, find a way to control him- I don't know, enslave him or something-"
She paused - her look, serious.
"Then, get him to like it."
Harry's jaw dropped. Was this the same Hermione that always blushed whenever someone would compliment her? How could such a devious plan unfold in such an innocent mind? As if reading his thoughts, 'Mione burst out in a fit of laughter.
"Didn't expect that, did ya?"
Slowly shaking his head, "No."
"Had you going there for a sec, though." Hermione smiled, pleased with herself.
"It's brilliant." Hermione, you have no idea.
"Yeah, well, brilliant or no, there's no way you're going to get Draco Malfoy to be your slave."
Harry decided to play dumb for that comment.
"Yeah, in my dreams." His devilish grin returning, "It would be fun though."
Afraid that he'd give too much away if this particular conversation continued, Harry tried to change the subject.
"So, studying for the end-of-term finals in September are we?" He poked fun at her.
Hermione gave him that "aren't you clever" look of hers. "If you really must know, I was trying to study in my room, but Olivia was taking a nap." Olivia was a transfer student, new this year to Hogwarts. Tall with short blonde hair, she was definitely attractive, but not too bright. Hermione rolled her eyes as she continued. "Apparently, I study too loudly."
Harry chuckled. "Why, do you study out loud?"
"Yes, why?" She gave him another one of those looks.
"I'd better be going." Taking his cue to leave, Harry gathered his things together and hugged Hermione around the neck.
"Thanks again for your help."
She smiled at him, "Anytime."
Harry was almost out of sight when Hermione called over to him again.
"Harry, you're not going to do anything to Draco, are you?"
He shrugged, "Nothing that he doesn't severely deserve." And with that, he left.
~*~
Harry was almost to the Gryffindor Common room when he realized that he didn't actually know if he could do anything to Malfoy. The only thing he did in Ron's dream was watch, he didn't try to do anything.
'Wait, no, I did. I made myself move in the Quidditch game.' Harry's brow creased, 'But how did I do that?'
Harry pictured himself trying to control Malfoy's dream, only to have Draco laughing at his pathetic attempts in his sleep. He wasn't about to let that happen.
'I need to - practice.' But on who?
"Olivia."
Harry raced back to his room, excited at the thought of another round in dreamland. Even if it was with a girl he hardly knew. Actually, that almost made it more exciting.
Amulet in hand, Harry sat down on his bed and kicked off his shoes.
'Here goes nothing.'
And with that, he slid the amulet around his neck and laid down. 'Olivia'
The familiar sensation of falling began, and just before everything went completely hazy, Harry looked at the clock.
4:35
~swirling~
~swirling~
~blackness~
~*~
Okay, any thoughts? Comments? Literary criticisms? Let me know! I'm all ears over here.
A/N: I don't own anything good of this story. (Ms. Rowling STILL isn't returning my calls.) * pout *
Summary: Harry just had a mindfuck. Literally. Curious as to what was going on in Ron's head, Harry ventured into the redhead's dreams. Well, at least now he knows! But what will he do with this information?? Read on and find out.
P.S. My humble thanks go out to Fran, my loyal reviewer. You're the one keepin' me writing girl! Thank you.
~*~
9:17
Harry awoke the next morning with a lust for life he hadn't known in years; for the first time in a long time, he welcomed the morning. Still half- dazed, half-unbelieving the night before, Harry leaned over his bed to look for his friend.
Ron was asleep and, thankfully, back on his bed. Harry sat and watched him, shaking his head all the while. 'Who knew he had such an imagination?' Ron answered him with a loud snore before rolling over. Refusing to let Ron, or anyone else, find him spying (again), Harry got up and took a very, very long shower.
The invigoratingly hot water helped to wash the sticky remnants of last night away. It also helped Harry to think. Being that it was Saturday, thankfully, he could stand there and let the hot water descend upon him all day. And, considering the number of thoughts going through his head, he very well may need all day to sort them out. One thought stood out in his mind above all others: What now?
He could go on about his day pretending that nothing happened, he thought. A wicked smile crossed his wet face - 'but that wouldn't be any fun.'
He could tell Ron how he felt. The smile quickly faded - 'but I don't even know how I feel.'
As exciting as it was last night, Harry couldn't quite put his finger on what it was that excited him. Was it the fact that Ron got on him? Or was it the fact that he was able to watch Ron get on him? It was a tough choice, to say the least. Harry leaned against the shower wall and closed his eyes, hoping it would help.
'Okay, I'm feeling desire. Yes. That's true - but for what? I can't very well go tell Ron that I want him if I don't truly know it for a fact.' The lines in Harry's brow deepened. 'I can't hurt him like that.' Lightly bouncing his head off the wall, he tried to think. 'It's just that, I don't have anything to compare him to.' And that was the truth.
Harry, even though he had been in relationships before, had never actually gotten very far - physically at least. Ron had always laughed at him for being a "prude". It's not that Harry didn't want to experience sex, he just hadn't found the right person. 'Yet.' And he wasn't keen on the idea of whoring himself around Hogwarts. Harry already had a reputation that followed him, much to his disgust, and he would be damned before he brought another one on himself.
"The-boy-who-lived-and-then-fucked-everyone." Harry laughed softly, his tone bitter.
'Wait a sec-' his eyes opened. 'Maybe I won't have to.'
A wicked little grin found its way to Harry's lips and made its home there.
He had an idea.
~*~
After an excruciatingly long shower, Harry grabbed his towel and made his way back to the common room. Ron had awaked already and was incoherently flipping through one of his many Quidditch magazines.
Their eyes met - and held - before Ron blushed and turned back to his magazine.
This time, it was Harry's turn to make Ron choke.
"Sleep well, mate?"
'Choke' may be the wrong word. 'Rip the page of his magazine half off' may be more appropriate
"W-what?" Ron stuttered.
Harry laughed and repeated his question, this time annoyingly slow. "Did you sleep well?"
Recovering, Ron answered. "Yeah. You?"
Mock-thinking about it, he nodded. "Yeah." Still intrigued by Ron's earlier response, Harry decided to play with him. "Dream anything?"
There went the last half of the page.
"Ron?"
"Yeah - no - I mean -" Ron was desperately trying to fix the page, unsuccessfully.
'This shouldn't be so much fun.' Harry couldn't help but chuckle to himself.
Slamming the magazine shut, Ron made a frantic attempt to hide the fact that he was nervous as hell.
Harry continued.
"Yeah? What was the dream about?" Before Ron had a chance to answer, Harry let his towel drop.
~silence~
"Ron?"
~silence~
"RON?"
"Wha?"
Oh god this was fun. He felt horrible for Ron, but he had started this game - no way he was going to stop now.
"You had a dream. And it was about - ?"
Again, before Ron could answer, Harry bent over to pick up his towel, his bare ass in Ron's noticeably red face.
"QUIDDITCH!"
Harry looked over his shoulder and smirked. "Figures."
Deciding that it probably wasn't going to do him any good to continue playing, Harry changed into his clothes. By this point, Ron had started panting a little bit. Not in desire, necessarily, but desire mixed with utter horror.
You couldn't help but feel bad for the boy.
Harry slipped the tee shirt over his head, grabbed his glasses and made his way to the door. "I'll see you at breakfast?"
Ron just nodded a "yes," his mouth still slightly agape.
"Good. Hurry up though." And with that, he was out the door.
After he was sure that Harry had left, Ron let out a colossal sigh. Then promptly started pounding his head into the side of the bed.
~*~
As unbelievable as it was, breakfast was even more enjoyable than his "flirt fest" with Ron. Before him sat hundreds of possibilities; a buffet as it were.
It was a smorgasbord of options.
'Who will it be? Who's the lucky witch or wizard?' The Great Hall was alive with discussion. Bits and pieces of conversations grazed past him; and normally Harry would partake in the ruckus. But not today; he was too busy searching for his next meal.
Harry studied the crowd like a hawk searching for prey. Who would make the perfect victim?
Immediately, Harry dismissed the word "victim." He wasn't going to hurt them, after all. At least, not unless they wanted him to.
The wicked grin, that still hadn't left his face, grew a bit wider.
'Enough horsing around - gotta concentrate.' Harry resumed his search.
Sitting across from him was Hermione, happily munching away on some waffles smothered in strawberry sauce. Instantly, Harry's mind took a turn for the gutter. Imagining her covered in strawberry sauce, Harry looked her over, faintly aware of his tongue running over his lips.
'No. No, not Hermione. Not yet.' He quickly turned his gaze back to his food. The thought of sleeping with his closest friends back to back disturbed him. He laughed at himself again, 'It's not like I'm really going to be shagging them, after all. Just, watching - no harm in watching.'
'Watching them against their will!' A little voice in the back of his head screamed at him. It was his conscience, or what was left of it, trying to regain some control.
He dismissed it.
Scanning the masses once again, Harry's attention was caught by Albus Dumbledore, who had just transfigured his heaping plate of eggs and toast into gumdrops. Laughing out loud a bit, Harry sat and studied him. 'Dumbledore?' What a ridiculous thought! Never once had it crossed Harry's mind to enter one of the professor's dreams.
However -
It wasn't a bad idea. Harry could only imagine what sort of dreams took place in Dumbledore's head. 'Probably battles against Voldemort with a candy cane and lemon drops.' Harry laughed out loud at the thought. No, not Dumbledore. Not yet, at least. Although the thought intrigued him, he needed someone more devious. More enthralling.
'Whose head have I always wanted to get into?'
He needed someone to fit his current mood, and Harry was feeling the need to raise some hell.
The answer hit him like a smack to the head - not because it was an epiphany - but because someone had just hit the back of his head with a muffin.
Surprised and angered, Harry flew around to find himself eye to eye with Draco Malfoy. The bastard had actually moved from his usual seat at the Slytherin table to get a better shot; he was sitting with the Ravenclaw's, his back to their table, arms propped up and leaning back. And, of course, he was smirking.
"Morning, Potter." Malfoy always had a way of pronouncing Harry's last name as if he were spitting it.
Harry narrowed his eyes and spat back, "Mingling with the commoners today, Malfoy?"
Unfazed and unblinking, Draco retorted dramatically, "Yes, a wave of pity washed over me and I had a sudden urge to feed the poor." He cocked his head as he held up a cranberry muffin. "Care for another?" The Ravenclaws around him shifted uncomfortably.
Harry smiled sweetly at him, trying his best to sound amused. "How kind of you. Lowering yourself to help another. I'm so touched, Malfoy." Harry began to get choked up, wiping away a fake tear. "I may cry."
"You would cry, Potter." Draco's eyes were gleaming as he leaned in closer. "Only the weak and damaged cry. Isn't that true, Mudblood?" His attention turned toward Hermione.
"You're one to talk," Harry, who had fully turned around, leaned forward till he was only centimeters away from Draco. "Ferret boy."
"You die the next time you say that." Draco's breath was hot on his face.
Harry's gaze was intense, peering into the fierce ice blue eyes in front of him. The hatred inside him caused his emerald eyes to sparkle with such fire, that he was sure they'd gone red. It was a stand off.
Ideas were creeping into his mind. Draco Malfoy. Fucking around with Ron had been fun, but this pairing could prove to be even more fulfilling. Thoughts of torture and humiliation danced in his head.
One smile and two seconds later, he had made his decision.
Quietly, so that only Malfoy could hear him, he whispered, "You'll do."
This was not what Draco had expected. It confused him; and because his confusion was a direct result of Harry's cheek, it angered him.
His stare caused a chill to creep up Draco's spine, making the blonde hair on his neck stand on end. This angered him even more. And what was worse, he couldn't think of anything to say.
"That's how I like you." Harry's voice was even softer now. "Speechless."
"What?" was all the reply Draco could muster. His mouth had gone dry.
Harry was enjoying the sight of an obviously flustered Malfoy. The power trip was indescribable.
"I'll see you tonight."
And with that, Harry twisted back around, turning his attentions back to his breakfast.
Stunned, it took Draco a second to regain his composure. No one steals his thunder, NO ONE. Especially not that ass of a wizard, Potter. Calmly, Draco made his way back to the Slytherin table, plotting his revenge all the while.
Harry enjoyed the rest of breakfast with the sensation of two holes being burned into the back of his head. He couldn't remember food ever tasting so good.
~*~
Harry spent his Saturday afternoon in the library, plotting. Trying to come up with as many Machiavellian-type scenarios as possible, his face twisting with delight every time he did.
"Ooh, that's good." Harry mentally patted himself on the back as he furiously scribbled his ideas onto paper. Holding the paper away from him, Harry squinted as he scanned the list.
1) Chinese Water Torture 2) Stretching him on the rack 3) Whipping him till he bleeds 4) Beating him till he goes unconscious 5) Hanging him by his toes 6) Starving him 7) Humiliating him in front of his mother
Harry's grin turned to a scowl as he realized his ideas lacked a certain creativity - a creativity that Malfoy deserved. 'For all I know, this is his idea of a good weekend.' No, he wanted Malfoy to suffer. Waking up screaming and in a cold sweat, sort of suffer. 'Flogging him incessantly won't make a dent. I'll have to think up something else.' Harry's pouting session was interrupted by a gasp, followed by a small squeal of delight.
"Harry?"
"Mione?"
"I knew it was you! What on earth are you doing in the Library?" Hermione plopped down, obviously excited to have a studying partner.
"Well, sort of studying, I guess-" Not quite sure if that was at all accurate, Harry figured it was probably the best response.
Hermione beamed, her smile making her face radiant. Harry couldn't help but look at her. 'How have I not noticed that before?' Shaking his head, Harry tuned back in to what she was saying.
"What?"
Rolling her eyes, Hermione repeated herself. "What are you studying for?"
Harry hesitated. Should he tell her what he's really doing? Feeling brave, and curious to see her reaction, he told her. (Not like she'd take him seriously, anyway.)
"Due to years of incessant annoyance and humiliation, I'm preparing to teach Malfoy a lesson in pain. So, I've been gathering a few ideas together, but I'm not really happy with any of them." He smiled and handed her the list. "I was wondering if you had any suggestions to add."
Taken a back by his statement, but curious none the less, Hermione took the list.
Scanned it once.
Scanned it twice.
Handed it back to him.
Then laughed her arse off.
Harry, happy to see her concur with his sense of humor, laughed as well.
'If only she knew-'
Then Hermione surprised him. She started playing along.
"No amount of physical torture will work. That boy is too used to pain."
Harry nodded both in agreement and to urge her to continue.
"What you need to do, if you really want to get him," she paused. "I can't believe I'm saying this-"
"What?" Harry chuckled.
"He hates losing control."
"Right."
"And he hates you-"
Starting to put it together, Harry replied slowly, "Riiight-"
"So, find a way to control him- I don't know, enslave him or something-"
She paused - her look, serious.
"Then, get him to like it."
Harry's jaw dropped. Was this the same Hermione that always blushed whenever someone would compliment her? How could such a devious plan unfold in such an innocent mind? As if reading his thoughts, 'Mione burst out in a fit of laughter.
"Didn't expect that, did ya?"
Slowly shaking his head, "No."
"Had you going there for a sec, though." Hermione smiled, pleased with herself.
"It's brilliant." Hermione, you have no idea.
"Yeah, well, brilliant or no, there's no way you're going to get Draco Malfoy to be your slave."
Harry decided to play dumb for that comment.
"Yeah, in my dreams." His devilish grin returning, "It would be fun though."
Afraid that he'd give too much away if this particular conversation continued, Harry tried to change the subject.
"So, studying for the end-of-term finals in September are we?" He poked fun at her.
Hermione gave him that "aren't you clever" look of hers. "If you really must know, I was trying to study in my room, but Olivia was taking a nap." Olivia was a transfer student, new this year to Hogwarts. Tall with short blonde hair, she was definitely attractive, but not too bright. Hermione rolled her eyes as she continued. "Apparently, I study too loudly."
Harry chuckled. "Why, do you study out loud?"
"Yes, why?" She gave him another one of those looks.
"I'd better be going." Taking his cue to leave, Harry gathered his things together and hugged Hermione around the neck.
"Thanks again for your help."
She smiled at him, "Anytime."
Harry was almost out of sight when Hermione called over to him again.
"Harry, you're not going to do anything to Draco, are you?"
He shrugged, "Nothing that he doesn't severely deserve." And with that, he left.
~*~
Harry was almost to the Gryffindor Common room when he realized that he didn't actually know if he could do anything to Malfoy. The only thing he did in Ron's dream was watch, he didn't try to do anything.
'Wait, no, I did. I made myself move in the Quidditch game.' Harry's brow creased, 'But how did I do that?'
Harry pictured himself trying to control Malfoy's dream, only to have Draco laughing at his pathetic attempts in his sleep. He wasn't about to let that happen.
'I need to - practice.' But on who?
"Olivia."
Harry raced back to his room, excited at the thought of another round in dreamland. Even if it was with a girl he hardly knew. Actually, that almost made it more exciting.
Amulet in hand, Harry sat down on his bed and kicked off his shoes.
'Here goes nothing.'
And with that, he slid the amulet around his neck and laid down. 'Olivia'
The familiar sensation of falling began, and just before everything went completely hazy, Harry looked at the clock.
4:35
~swirling~
~swirling~
~blackness~
~*~
Okay, any thoughts? Comments? Literary criticisms? Let me know! I'm all ears over here.