Disclaimer – All characters still belong to J.K. Rowling. I am borrowing them for my own devious purposes, but she can have them back as soon as I've finished playing!

A/N – Okay, do you ever start a ff, publish the first chapter, then want to take it in a different direction than you've set up? It's so grrr when that happens. It seems to be happening to me here, I've started this, my first ff, but now I want to do something else... I have always been crap with decisions... like, who do I want to pair up? Should I introduce a new character? Should I make it slashy? And so on...

Thank you to those who reviewed:

§ Kimi-sama – I didn't think they were always female – maybe the myth is, but my Lamia ideas come from LJ Smiths Nightworld Series.

§ IBitTheMufinMan – okay, I shall continue!! Thanks for the encouragement!

§ Layce74  - Thank you! *grins at 'pooter screen*

§ Beth Weasley – The clue is in the title... *winks*

So, as always, review, let me know what you think!

Lamia – Chapter 2

"Harry!" said Ron. "Harry, wake up, we've got potions in 20 minutes! Get up!" he continued, throwing a pillow at his best friend's head.

Harry sat up, and rubbed the sleep out of his eyes. Squinting, he reached for his glasses and peered up at his friend. "Why didn't you wake me sooner?" he asked, climbing out of bed and into his slippers and dressing gown.

"We tried to, mate, really, we did. You were dead to the world," replied Ron.

Yawning, Harry made his way to the bathroom to have a quick wash before pulling on his school clothes and robes.

Realising the others had already left, Harry hurried out of Gryffindor Tower and headed downstairs towards the dungeons. As he walked, he thought about the dream from which Ron had woken him. He remembered it being very comfortable. One that he did not want to wake from. Makes a change thought Harry darkly. He was in the Forbidden Forest, or at least one like it, only it wasn't dark and claustrophobic like it usually was. It was green and lush, with a pleasant breeze sweeping through the tops of the trees. It was summer, and the sun shone down into the clearing where Harry sat. Harry was waiting for someone in this dream. Someone he loved very much, and someone who loved Harry just as much. Harry tried to hold on to the images from his dream, curious as to who his love might be. He remembered squinting through the trees, and seeing someone coming towards him, someone blonde... too far, can't see...

"Malfoy" Harry blurted out, as he rounded a corner in the dungeons, and crashed into someone headed in the same direction as he was. "What are you doing here?"

"Being late, Potter. Like you, by the looks of it..." responded Draco, allowing a bit of acidity to taint his words. It wouldn't do for Potter to get the wrong idea. The idea that maybe Draco had been waiting just around that corner for Hogwart's Golden Boy to show up and *accidentally* crash into the back of him. The truth was, Draco just had to see him, had to have a chance to talk to him, even if it was merely exchanging brief, terse comments. And Harry having crashed into him, God, the skin contact, the electricity that had seemed to pass through them, Draco would dwell on that all week. That's what would get him through. That's probably what would save Harry's life, and stop Draco taking him, there and then.

"Yeah, right, of course, sorry..." said Harry. Sorry! What am I saying sorry for!  he thought to himself, picking his books which had spilled onto the floor and following Draco towards the door of the potions classroom.

They made it just in time, with Snape bursting in not five seconds after them. Going their separate ways, Harry found his seat and pulled out his potions books and a quill.  They had been back at school two weeks, and as far as Harry was concerned that was two weeks of potions too many. He felt his eyes getting heavy, and propping his head up on his hand, he yawned and rubbed his eyes, wanting to be able to slip back into his dream.

"Mr Potter!"

Harry's eyes flew open, and his head whipped up to face the Potions Master, Professor Snape.

"Look around this classroom," continued Professor Snape. "Well?"

"Well what, sir?"

"Do you see any pillows? Or beds, perhaps?" said Snape, his eyes narrowing. He was clearly enjoying this and Harry had the feeling he was about to lose both house points and free time. "Maybe you would like me to conjure one out of thin air, for your convenience?"

"No, sir, sorry sir," mumbled Harry, his face flushing a deep red.

"10 points for every minute you were asleep, that makes... oo, 60 points from Gryffindor. Tut, tut, what a way to start the year, Mr Potter. You shall also attend detention. Let's say 7.30pm, tonight. You're not busy, are you?" said Snape, his mouth moving into a smile, and his eyebrows arching. He knew perfectly well that Harry had Quidditch practice that evening, and it pleased him to deprive Gryffindor of its Seeker for a training session. If he was lucky, perhaps Potter would fall asleep more often in this class, then maybe Slytherin would be in with a chance of winning the house cup. Moving back to the front of the class, Snape turned and aimed an icy glare towards the Gryffindors, which only slightly melted as he eyes moved over his Slytherin students. "Back to work, or I'll have you all in detention."

The rest of the potions lesson passed without incident. Harry got on quietly with his work, hoping to not draw any more attention to himself. He looked up a couple of times, and was sure he saw Draco turn back down to his work too quickly, as if he'd been staring at Harry. Putting it out of his mind, Harry continued working.

Soon, the class was over, Harry picked up his books, and hurried out with the rest of his friends, before Snape could take any more house points from him.