By Thursday of his second week, Draco was struggling. He had been visiting that night in the prison cell in his dreams every evening and all the sleepless nights were beginning to wear him down. Only the silencing charms he put around his bed kept the other boys from waking every night from his screams. Thankfully, they hadn't noticed anything yet, though Draco knew that Potter suspected he wasn't sleeping. The dark-haired boy would give Draco sympathetic smiles occasionally through the day, and he knew that it had been Potter who had left an ice cold glass of water by his bed that he had found one night after waking with a raw throat from screaming.
So, it was bleary eyed that Draco sat over his morning toast, oblivious to the chatter around him. He had already formulated a plan with which he hoped to cure his lack of sleep and get rid of his nightmares, though he knew it could very easily go wrong. Lathering a third piece of toast with jam, Draco couldn't help looking up as he saw some very familiar figures approaching.
"What've you got there, Longbottom?" A quick hand suddenly snatched up Longbottom's new Remembrall. Theodore Nott, flanked by Crabbe and Goyle, had decided to stir up some trouble. Draco had seen his two dim-witted friends following Nott around in his place. He still hadn't talked with Crabbe and Goyle or any of his old allies in Slytherin about what had happened at the Sorting, and he knew he would need to soon. Without friends in Slytherin, he would never earn their respect as future leader of the Death Eaters.
"Give that back, Nott," Potter growled in a very unthreatening voice making Draco snicker. That attracted Nott's attention, and tossing the Remembrall back on the table, he swaggered down to stand right beside Draco who just kept nibbling at his breakfast.
"Think something's funny, Malfoy? Not sure why you're in a good mood. I hear your father's ashamed of his own heir being sorted amongst blood-traitors and Mudbloods," Nott sneered.
People immediately jumped up at Nott's words, quickly drawing the attention of the head table and Professor McGonagall who came and swiftly ushered the Slytherins away. Nott gave Draco a lingering glare as he waltzed back to his own table. He decided that his talks with the snakes could not wait any longer; he would have to find time today to get them on his side.
"C'mon Harry," Weasley moaned longingly, "we can't be late to flying class!" Potter rolled his eyes, paling slightly as he finished scoffing his breakfast and went to follow his friend.
Flying class. How could Draco have forgotten? This was the day Draco had single-handedly allowed Potter to become the Gryffindor seeker and increase his fan-following even more than it was already. Well, whatever happened, Draco promised himself Potter would not be Gryffindor seeker by the end of the day. Discarding the rest of his breakfast, he got up to follow behind Finnegan and Thomas outside to the grounds.
The Slytherins were trickling down slowly as they arrived where the old school brooms were lined up. Madam Hooch brought them all to order and Draco made sure he was situated next to Longbottom.
"Stick out your right hand and say 'Up'!" Madam Hooch shouted at the group.
"Up!" Draco's broom shot straight into his hand as expected. Potter's did too. Longbottom and Granger were the last ones to get a hold of their brooms and it was no surprise why; the two of them were visibly terrified at the thought of leaving the safety of solid ground.
As Madam Hooch started moving her way up and down the row of students correcting their grips (she had the audacity to correct Draco's grip just as she had last time) Draco could sense Longbottom getting agitated beside him. As he turned to scold the boy, Longbottom's feet slowly left the ground only increasing his frantic shrieking.
"Mr Longbottom!" Madam Hooch called from the far end of the class. "Mr Longbottom, come down this instant!"
Draco leapt off his own broom and jumped up to try reach Longbottom, but he'd managed to soar out of his reach. Swearing to himself, Draco jumped back onto his broom and kicked off, rising slowly to meet the terrified boy.
"Oi, Longbottom!" Draco called, trying to sound calm. "Relax, would you? Lean forwards gently and you'll go back down."
But Longbottom was beyond consolation, so stressed was he at being so high up. Draco swore again and reached out to grab onto the other broom. This made Longbottom panic even more, and it was with great difficulty that Draco managed to steer both of their brooms back down to the grass. Draco landed on his feet, but Longbottom rolled sideways and lay shaking in terror on the ground. He rolled his eyes at the round-faced boy's antics, sweeping a lock of his blond hair out of his eyes.
Madam Hooch bent down to check on Longbottom and helped him into a sitting position. Once she was sure he was uninjured, she rounded on Draco.
"Mr Malfoy, I believe you were under strict instructions to keep your feet planted until I gave the instruction to do otherwise." Her bright yellow eyes glared at him piercingly before softening slightly. "Be that as it may, you still showed excellent calm to help Longbottom to the ground again. Ten points to Gryffindor." And with that she turned on the spot and went back to teaching the class.
"Wha–" Draco spluttered after her retreating form. How dare she?! Draco hadn't saved the idiot's neck for house points! All he had intended to happen was to allow an injury-free class to go ahead so that Potter wouldn't have a chance to show-off his seeking abilities. Now he would have even more difficult a time convincing the Slytherins he was on their side. Looking down towards his should-be-housemates his fears were confirmed; each of them were glaring at him through narrowed eyes. Crabbe even went so far as to crack his knuckles in Draco's direction. To make things worse, many of the Gryffindors were grinning or giving him the thumbs-up for winning them ten points.
The rest of the class, as Draco had hoped, went smoothly. With no injuries, Madam Hooch was able to supervise for the entire hour leaving Potter no opportunity to demonstrate what a brilliant flyer he was. Draco supposed, as he meandered back up to the castle, that at least something had gone right this morning.
When Draco got into the entrance hall, a hard shove from behind brought him careening into the stone wall. The wind was knocked out of him as he was turned to face his assaulters.
"What gives, Malfoy? Now you're winning points for the scum?" Nott demanded of him, shoving him harshly into the wall by his collar. Crabbe, Goyle and even Blaise Zabini stood around him. "What would dear old daddy have to say about that?"
"Let go of me, Nott," Draco said calmly.
"Why? So you can go off with your Gryffindork friends?"
"I've been needing to talk to you about all this," Draco insisted. "Just come in here and listen to me!" Draco shoved Nott off him and directed them into the nearby boys' bathroom. He checked every stall, making sure there were no lingering students ditching class and locked the door.
"Listen, I was just as disgusted as you lot when that ridiculous hat put me in Gryffindor," he started angrily. "But don't you for a second think that makes me one of them!"
"What do you think you're doing rescuing Longbottom then? Let the fat idiot fall on his face for all I care, what're you flying to help him for?" Draco knew how it looked to them, and he could hardly explain that he was trying to make sure Potter couldn't show off his flying. Better start trying to get them on his side.
"Don't you get what me being in Gryffindor means?" He asked the group who stared at him blankly. "I've been given the perfect opportunity to get myself in the good books of Potter and those around him." Getting nothing but more blank looks, he sighed.
"The Dark Lord will return one day, I'm sure of it and so is Father," Draco whispered to them eagerly. "Don't you think when that happens Potter will somehow be involved in the Light's attempt to destroy him again? If I earn the idiot's trust, he'll think I'm on his side and will tell me anything I want to know eventually. So yes," Draco sighed, "it's disgusting and it's painful, but I know that it can be of use in the future!" He finished eagerly, staring at them each one at a time, pleased that the blank looks had disappeared to be replaced by ones of awe.
"You really think he'll come back?" Zabini asked somewhat nervously.
"I'm sure of it, and when he does I'll be ready to tell him anything the Light is planning."
Nott's smug smirk was back in place and he started to laugh.
"That sounds more like a Malfoy attitude," he roared, slapping Draco's shoulder. "Want us to throw you around a bit, treat you like any old Gryffindork?" There was something about the glint in Nott's eye that suggested he enjoyed that prospect a little too much.
"No need for that," Draco insisted, "but feel free to lump me in with the insults every once in a while. It'll make me look like I really have fallen away from the Slytherins who I should be friends with." Draco couldn't quite believe how easily the others had agreed with his reasoning; perhaps there was an advantage to everyone around him being impressionable eleven-year-olds.
"Does your father know of your idea?" Zabini asked, still not looking entirely convinced.
"I have assured him of my loyalty to the Malfoy name. I have not had the opportunity to tell him of my plans in more detail." It would not be until the Christmas holidays, Draco suspected, that he would be able to talk to his father without the concern of being overheard.
Draco stayed there chatting with his old friends for a short while, Crabbe and Goyle fantasising about what it would be like once the Dark Lord returned. Draco had to fight against rolling his eyes at their overly imaginative descriptions of Muggle tortures and killings. In fact, it made him a little bit ill.
Draco leading the way, the boys left the bathroom to re-enter the Entrance hall. They had missed lunch and Draco's stomach growled in indignation at being forgotten. He was trying to remember what class he was supposed to head to next when a cheerful voice echoed from across the hall.
"Hey, Dra–" The youngest Weasley's voice suddenly cut off at the sight of the Slytherins exiting the bathroom right behind Draco. The red-haired boy's eyes narrowed suspiciously, his hand lowering back down to his side quickly.
Dammit, Draco thought angrily to himself. Weasley marched out of the hall towards their next class, not sparing Draco another glance. Draco quickly ushered the Slytherin boys away just before Potter and Longbottom exited the Great Hall. Seeing no reason to be angry or suspicious, the two of them greeted their housemate jovially.
"Draco! Come on, hurry up or we'll be late," Potter said hurriedly. "You haven't seen Ron, have you?"
Cringing inwardly at his friendly tone, Draco trotted after the other two boys, praying he could get through the next several years without killing one of them… or himself.
"That was really brave what you did today to help Neville."
Draco looked up from his Transfiguration homework with a raised eyebrow. This was the first time that Granger had spoken to him while they studied within each other's vicinity in the Common Room. Draco refused to call it studying together, because they never spoke or even paid each other much attention. Draco sighed, concerned that these peaceful evenings of doing homework in silence were about to disappear.
"I wasn't trying to be brave or anything," he muttered. "I was just trying to stop the idiot from hurting himself or, worse, me." Everyone had started being much friendlier towards Draco this evening, and while he knew that was what he needed in the long run, just at the moment it was driving him insane. Especially tonight.
"Well that isn't a very nice thing to say!" Granger said, startled. "It isn't his fault that he's scared of flying. He isn't the only one," she finished quietly.
"He's a pureblood, he should be fine with things like flying," Draco hissed back. He wasn't sure why he was arguing the matter, but he supposed this was something he had always wondered about Longbottom.
"Blood has nothing to do with being afraid or not!" Granger shrieked, causing a few nearby heads to turn. "Some people are brave on a broom like you and Harry, and some people aren't like Neville and me."
"Well it's no surprise you hate flying," he drawled, rolling his eyes, "you're a Mud– HEY!" Draco stood up suddenly as a whole pot of ink splashed over him and his homework. He looked up from his soiled clothes to see Granger also standing and looking furious, eyes blazing and cheeks tinged with pink, and a large, now empty, ink pot grasped tightly in her hand.
"Don't," she demanded. "Don't." Just as tears began to fill her eyes, Granger turned and hurried up towards her dormitory, leaving Draco dirty and dripping with ink. A few people around them sniggered at his predicament, not having heard the conversation. Draco glared back at them and grabbing his now ruined notes, made his way up to his own dormitory to clean himself up.
As he siphoned off the ink as best as he could, Draco fumed over the conversation with Granger. If she couldn't see how much of a wimp Longbottom was for being afraid of flying when he had grown up in a Pureblood family, then that was her problem. She was allowed to be terrified, being a Mudblood and all.
Draco paused as that word passed through his thoughts again. Using the same line in the Slytherin Common Room would have received guffaws of agreement, but here among the Gryffindors it was bigotry, the lowest form of insult anyone could use. He remembered the coldness with which Hermione Granger from the other timeline used the term during her imprisonment. She had almost worn the title as a crown. Draco supposed that was what happened when you were called it every day for so many years. Mudblood and proud indeed.
Draco didn't return to the Common Room that night. Instead, he stayed upstairs on his bed and finished his homework alone. Once he had answered the last question for Professor Sprout, Draco sat back and ran through his plan once more.
Draco had made the decision that tonight he would break into Snape's private stores for a supply of Dreamless Sleep potion. There had not been one evening since his return to the past that he had managed a full night's sleep and it was starting to strain him. He knew that he wouldn't be able to take it every night and not for very long, but if he could space out the doses over the next week, he might finally be able to catch up on some much-needed rest.
Without his own invisibility cloak or Potter's, Draco knew it would be difficult to sneak around the castle without being seen. He had made sure that he could still perform a Disillusionment charm and was pleased to see that most of his magical ability had returned with him to the past. The hardest part would be getting in and out of Snape's private stores without detection, but thankfully Draco knew firsthand how the man protected his potions and ingredients from snooping students. Draco just prayed that it was the same as he knew.
"I'm telling you, Harry, I saw Malfoy with all the Slytherin first year boys! That's why he wasn't at lunch – he was off giving his real mates all the dirt on us!" Weasley and Potter had just entered the dormitory, and with the late hour and Draco's curtains drawn it was likely they suspected him to be asleep.
"What dirt would he have to tell them, Ron?" Potter asked back quietly. "Besides, he saved Neville today."
Draco heard a scoff that he assumed was Weasley.
"Come off it, Neville wasn't in any real danger. Madam Hooch could have done what Malfoy did."
"But she didn't," Potter countered.
"I don't know why he did it," Weasley continued, "but it's obviously all a part of his plans." There was a moment of silence. "Remember how he acted on the train, Harry. Malfoy isn't a nice guy."
"We'll keep an eye on him if you want, but I'm not convinced yet," Potter said, bringing the conversation to a close.
Draco listened as the other three boys came into the room and started to prepare for bed. It seemed to take hours for all five of them to settle and their snores to fill the room, all the while Draco sat back on his bed waiting for his chance to leave. At last a stillness settled over the dormitory, the snores of the other boys Draco's signal to begin his mission.
Borrowing Weasley's wand (the fool had left it on his bedside cabinet), Draco cast a Disillusionment charm on himself effectively blending into his surroundings. Sufficiently hidden, he made his way downstairs through the common room and snuck out the portrait hole.
"Who's there?" Muttered the Fat Lady, half asleep in her frame. Draco ignored her and began the familiar trek to the dungeons.
He met no one on his walk, thankful that the security in the castle had no reason to be heightened at the current point in the timeline. Once he reached the comforting murkiness of the lower levels, he made his way to Snape's office.
As part of the privilege of being in Slytherin house, all of the students under the green and silver serpent were given a secret password that would allow them access to Snape's personal office to be used if they ever needed him. Draco had only ever had one occasion at which he had used this password in his other lifetime, but he still remembered it even after all these years.
"Galanthus nivalis."
The door clicked open, echoing through the stone dungeon. Draco slipped carefully inside the empty office. As he had suspected it was well past the hour by which Snape stopped work for the evening, and so he should have unhindered access to the man's office and stores.
Snape's private supply of potions was kept behind yet another password-protected door. This password, Draco knew, Snape had never changed as he had told it to no one over the course of his life. Only in death to aid Draco had he relinquished the hold of that password.
"Lilium."
Draco quickly filled his book bag with several vials of Dreamless Sleep potion, filling the now half empty shelf with identically copied bottles all of which were empty. Making sure everything appeared just as he had found it, Draco slipped out of the office and padded his way back out of the dungeons. Glancing wistfully towards the Slytherin common room, he continued up the castle until he reached Gryffindor tower once more. He filled his bottom drawer with the potion vials, taking a large gulp from one of them before settling himself down for a much-needed restful sleep.
The next morning at breakfast, Draco felt his most rested since returning to the past, and so it was with a much lighter mood that he lathered marmalade all over his toast. The presence of Potter and Weasley shovelling food into their mouths at top speed across from him didn't even take away from his good mood. The first thing that made him frown was a passing comment by his dorm mate Dean Thomas.
"Where d'you reckon all the Slytherins are?"
As Draco turned to look at the empty table at the other end of the hall, he became aware of many mutterings around him asking the same question. It was not unusual for students to meander in and out at various times for breakfast, but for a whole house to be missing…
"Maybe Dumbledore finally kicked them out!" Guffawed Weasley, mouth full of porridge.
"More likely Snape's holding a meeting to praise them all for being righteous gits," snickered Finnigan.
As several of the Gryffindors snorted into their pumpkin juice, the doors opened to allow the entire Slytherin house to march into the hall and take their seats for breakfast. Draco didn't think they looked especially like they had been punished or praised, but there were definitely looks of fear and confusion among his former housemates. While they were all at least half an hour late to breakfast, none of them reached immediately for food, but rather put their heads together in small clusters muttering furiously at one another.
The doors opening once more drew silence from the four tables. All eyes were on Professor Snape, his dark robes billowing menacingly behind him as he strode up to the Head table. A deep, furious scowl was on his face that said the next person to speak to him would be very sorry indeed. The Slytherin table watched their head of house warily as they hesitantly reached for some breakfast.
Draco kept his eyes on Snape as the hall broke out into whispering once more. He leant over the table, putting his face right up close to Dumbledore's and muttered furiously at him. Once he had given his message, he stalked around to his own seat at the table to eat his own meal while still simmering in anger.
Silence fell over the hall as the Headmaster stood to speak.
"Students, it has come to our attention this morning that overnight a number of potions have gone missing from Professor Snape's private stores. I ask anyone who thinks they may know something to come forward and speak to your head of house." Dumbledore returned to his seat and was immediately drawn into conversation with Professor McGonagall, the rest of the hall filling once more with suspicious whispering.
"It's got to be one of the Slytherins," Finnigan said. "They'd know his office best and exactly where he kept all his potions."
"I wonder what they took," Thomas mused. "Could be anything if it's from Snape's private stores."
Draco offered no input to the group's speculations, simply allowing the conversation to flow around him. His Occlumency shields assured no one would be able to learn it was him, but he made a mental note to ensure his bottom drawer was properly secured when he returned to his dormitory later.
"Why'd they have to steal from him last night? Snape's going to be a nightmare in class this morning!"
Draco grimaced at the reminder that potions was their first class for the morning, begrudgingly following his classmates out of the Great Hall towards the dungeons. Perhaps the other Gryffindors were right – maybe he ought to have waited until tonight to steal from Snape.
Sure enough, Snape was particularly brutal to them in class. Made worse by the fact the professor suspected someone from his own house had invaded his stores, both Gryffindors and Slytherins alike found themselves on the receiving end of Snape's fury.
"You've stirred this far too slowly, Nott, you idiot boy," Snape growled. "What are you sniggering at, Weasley? Your Cure for Boils would likely kill anyone who drank it."
It was with bowed heads the first years packed up their potion making kits at the end of the lesson. Every student had received their fair share of Snape's anger at least once that morning.
"I'm sure that I need hardly say this, but when I find out who stole those potions from me, I will personally make sure that person is expelled. I hope I make myself clear." He dismissed the class with another hateful glare. Only once they were safely out of the dungeons did the Gryffindors voice their feelings.
"Lousy git," Weasley muttered. "He can't possibly believe it was one of us. We wouldn't have a clue how to steal his stupid potions."
"Bet he reckons it was me," Potter grumbled. "Snape hates me already, no doubt he'll try to blame this on me." The others gave their friend a sympathetic look as they made their way to lunch.
"I heard it was a whole month's worth of Sleeping Draught that got taken," Parvati Patil said to her friend Lavender Brown.
"Why would anyone need that much Sleeping Draught?" Brown mused in reply. Both girls continued discussing it as they followed the boys into the Great Hall.
Draco rolled his eyes. Eleven-year-olds could be rather overly dramatic, he thought to himself. Draco, for instance, knew there had been nothing wrong with his own potion in class despite what Professor Snape had criticised, but he wasn't letting it get to him. Sure he had an extra fifteen years of life experience in his head to keep him rational, but he still found it odd the things his classmates found worthy of gossip.
The rest of the day passed in much the same fashion, Snape still seething at dinner time having had no one come forward with any information. Draco meanwhile was greatly looking forward to another full night of uninterrupted sleep. He hoped that a week or so without bad dreams would be long enough that he could have restful nights in between without the need for any potion.
The common room was noisy that night, being a Friday, and no one was doing any homework except for Hermione Granger. She still wasn't talking to Draco after what he had said the night before, and Draco found that he couldn't care less. In fact, it was peaceful not having her crowding his space like usual. Hopefully he'd put her off him for good.
Draco went up to bed first out of any of his dorm mates. He cast a clever little charm on his drawer hiding the potions so that only he would be able to open it. Taking a deep drink from one of the vials, Draco lay back in bed listening to the rail fall outside and drifted off to sleep.
It had been well over a week since Draco had started taking the Dreamless Sleep potion and he felt fantastic. Colour was returning to his face and life to his eyes as day by day he recovered from his state of exhaustion. He found himself wishing he had thought to steal from Snape sooner.
Professor Snape was still grumbling about the castle, no closer to figuring out the perpetrator than he had been a week ago. Draco had kept a casual eye on the man, and the Headmaster as well, to make sure they both stayed ignorant of his involvement. So far he had gotten away with it.
Draco hadn't yet been brave enough to trial sleeping without the potion. It was working so well for him that he didn't want to stop taking it, but he knew he would have to stop soon. Dependence on such a substance could prove dangerous if he were to take it for too long. Perhaps he would try tonight, but he knew he wouldn't; he had been telling himself the same thing for several days now and yet still slumbered with the potion's aide.
It was a Sunday and Draco having finished all his homework for the coming week had decided to spend the day outside. He had accidentally slept in until almost lunch time today, not even rousing when the others in his dormitory had galumphed down to breakfast. Maybe he took too large a dose of potion last night, though Draco could have sworn he had in fact taken less than previously.
He looked down toward the Quidditch pitch where he could see the Ravenclaw team practising; how he wished he could have his broom and be playing Quidditch this year. The eleven-year-old part of him worried about next year when he would no doubt come up against Potter in the trials for the open Seeker position. He would have to make sure his father bought him a Nimbus 2001 again; no doubt Potter would have to use one of the old school brooms. He wouldn't stand a chance.
Turning away from the pitch, Draco wandered down towards the lake. There were a few students wading in the shallows trying to tempt the giant squid into some food. Others were laying under trees around the lake's edge, doing their best to enjoy the fine weather before the colder months settled in. Draco settled himself under his own tree, enjoying the cool breeze on his face, and allowed himself to appreciate the peace.
"What? No way, Harry!" A voice came from somewhere to Draco's right. He let out an irritated breath; so much for peace.
"Why not? He's our dorm mate, we should just ask."
"Fine, you can ask him. I'll go ahead and meet you at the pitch." Draco listened to Weasley's footsteps clomp back up the grounds. He kept his eyes closed, pretending to ignore the softer steps coming towards him.
"Hey, Draco," Potter said.
"Potter," Draco sighed keeping his eyes shut.
"Ron and I were going to see if Madam Hooch was up at the Quidditch pitch and if we might be able to borrow some of the school brooms for a bit. D'you want to come?"
Draco opened one eye to glance up at him. Potter still looked quite tired as though he wasn't sleeping well, but his eyes sparkled at the prospect of flying. It suddenly hit Draco how young Harry Potter was; there had been no light or innocence in the eyes of Potter when Draco had seen him die. At seventeen he had been a man of war with death and destruction in his wake. But this Potter was still a child. Draco wondered how much he suspected about the horrible things that were to come in his future.
"Yeah, why not." Draco hauled himself to his feet and, stuffing his hands in his pockets, began the walk to the Quidditch pitch with Potter. He reasoned that he wasn't particularly trying to be friendly, he just really wanted to fly. He might even get the chance to convince Potter he would never be good enough to play Quidditch.
"I haven't heard you waking up during the night recently," Potter said as they walked. "Have the nightmares stopped, then?"
"What's it to you, Potter?" Draco snapped back.
"I was just wondering," he defended, sounding slightly hurt. "I'm glad if they have. Nightmares aren't fun."
"Brilliant observation," Draco muttered bitterly.
They walked in silence for a little bit until Potter decided to speak again.
"Did you do something to make them stop? Only sometimes I have a nightmare and I'd like it to stop, too."
Draco didn't answer for a while. Why was Potter telling him this about himself? Didn't he understand the risks of revealing weaknesses to the enemy?
Of course not, Draco reminded himself. He's eleven years old and thinks you're his friend.
"I dunno," Draco finally replied. "Just lucky, I guess." As if he would tell Potter about the potions he stole from Snape. He could find his own Sleeping Draughts if he wanted a dreamless sleep.
They made it to the Quidditch pitch to find Weasley happily exploring the broom cupboard.
"Hooch said that as long as we don't do anything too dangerous we can fly around while she's here cleaning out the storeroom!" He yelled excitedly as he pushed one of the better brooms into Potter's hands and grabbed another for himself.
"Brilliant!" Potter agreed. "Got another one there for Draco?"
Weasley scowled as he handed Draco a particularly forlorn looking broom. Draco smirked and internally shrugged; he'd just have to show Weasley up in the air who was the better flier.
All of a sudden a great wave of tiredness swept over Draco, causing him to stagger sideways. Neither Potter nor Weasley noticed, too focused were they on mounting their brooms. He blinked a few times and shook his head trying to clear it before he too mounted his broom and kicked off. Weasley had managed to pick out a broom that had a tendency to veer to the left. It would be impossible to play Quidditch with such a broom, but it was bearable for some casual flying.
"Oi, Harry! Race you to the goal posts!" Weasley shouted before streaking along only a few metres above the ground.
"C'mon Draco!" Potted yelled as he took after his friend. Draco leant forwards as if to follow when another wave of exhaustion hit him. Clutching his head, Draco could feel his heart racing as the edges of his vision began to go white. His hands suddenly slippery with sweat, he lost his grip on the broom and succumbed to the darkness before he even hit the ground.
When Draco woke up, he became aware of a deep ache in his stomach as though he hadn't eaten for a week. Groaning, he sat himself upright in the bed and looked around the hospital wing in displeasure.
"Ah, Mr Malfoy, you're up." The Matron, Madam Pomfrey, came bustling over to his bedside and began waving her wand at once. "How do you feel?"
"Fine. Why am I here?" Draco demanded.
"You collapsed on your broom two days ago. Mr Potter and Mr Weasley managed to find Madam Hooch quickly who brought you straight to me. Now," she said, setting a stern gaze on to him, "how long have you been taking Sleeping Draughts at night?"
"Uhh," Draco stammered.
"I want you to forget about the fact that Professor Snape is still looking for a student who stole numerous sleeping potions from his personal stores and answer the question, Mr Malfoy. I am not here to punish you; I am here to get you better."
"Ten days," he murmured.
"And I suppose you had a reason for taking them? Nightmares, I take it?" Madam Pomfrey pushed.
Draco simply nodded. Madam Pomfrey tutted.
"Given you are only a first year you may be unaware, but take note for the future that if ever students are unable to sleep from nightmares or other reasons they are welcome to come speak to me and I can administer some Dreamless Sleep in a safe setting if so required. I would not recommend older students or even many adults to be wise enough to self-prescribe a Sleeping Draught, let alone an eleven-year-old."
The large doors to the hospital wing opened and Draco's aching stomach dropped.
"Ah Professor," the Matron said, "Mr Malfoy is ready for you."
"Thank-you, Poppy," Professor McGonagall replied. Her mouth was in a very thin line, a sure indicator that she was furious. Madam Pomfrey went away, leaving her patient and his head of house in privacy.
"Would you care to explain yourself, Mr Malfoy?" the Professor asked.
Draco was suddenly finding his plain white bedspread very interesting to look at.
"Perhaps you could start at the part where you broke into a teacher's private office to steal dangerous potions? Or otherwise before that when you failed to come to your Head of House when you were struggling to settle in?" His professor's voice was still relatively calm, but Draco knew she could quickly grow hysterical.
"I wanted to sort it out myself," he defended boldly. Draco would rather die than ask a Gryffindor for help.
"You are eleven years old, Mr Malfoy, you are not expected to do things like this yourself. That is what your professors are for." She observed him for a moment. "Do you suffer from nightmares often?"
"It's fine," Draco insisted. Professor McGonagall paused and fixed him with a keen glare.
"You will be required in detention with Mr Filch each of the next four Saturdays. It will be your responsibility to apologise to Professor Snape who also has the right to issue his own punishment. He cannot expel you, Mr Malfoy, I will make sure of that," she added at the slight fear that had just set over Draco.
"If you continue to have troubles I expect you to speak to me. I understand that it is likely you were not expecting to find yourself in my house, but despite that I will do my utmost to help you over the next seven years as I do all my students." At no point did she sound ashamed of having a would-be-Slytherin in her house, but it would take far more for Draco to respect his new head of house.
Draco simply nodded in response.
"I will also have to write to your parents about this behaviour," she added.
Draco paled. Write to his parents? He dreaded to think the horrible punishment that would await him come the Christmas holidays for being caught stealing from the only professor whom his father respected. Even worse they may demand he explain why he needs Sleeping Draughts and what his nightmares are about. It would not be wise to explain that it was their deaths in an alternate timeline that kept him awake at night screaming.
"I will leave you with Madam Pomfrey," Professor McGonagall broke through his panic. "I believe she will let you go very shortly, in which regard I expect you back in class tomorrow morning. Good day, Mr Malfoy." She gave him a polite nod and left the hospital wing.
"Bollocks," Draco muttered after her.
Strolling back to Gryffindor tower an hour later, Draco was keeping his head down with his hands shoved deep in his pockets. He would have to go back to sleeping without the aid of the potion now that he had quite badly overdosed. He should have been more concerned with how much he was sleeping despite reducing his dose. Now he'd gotten himself ill and caught by his professors. He was dreading seeing Professor Snape tomorrow, not sure that this wouldn't ruin his chances at earning the man's trust as a future confidant to his secret. For a start he would have to explain how he came across a password that is only given to Slytherin students, not to mention the one this Snape had never told a living soul.
When Draco made it to the portrait of the Fat Lady, he was surprised (and a little annoyed) to see Potter coming out of it.
"Draco!" He gasped, running over. "I was just coming to see you in the hospital wing. How are you feeling?"
"I'm grand, Potter, don't get your wand in a twist," Draco sneered, not in the mood for Potter's niceties.
"Hey, that's not fair," Potter defended. "Ron and I were the ones who saw you faint and got you help. Madam Pomfrey wouldn't even tell us what was wrong with you, just that she would sort you out."
"What do you want from me, expressions of gratitude? A hand-written thank-you note delivered by owl? Just leave me alone, Potter." Draco made to move past him, but Potter sidestepped into his path once again.
"Why don't you let anyone be nice to you? It's like you're trying to push everyone away on purpose."
Draco just glared at him.
"Ron says you don't care about anyone but yourself and Slytherin, the house you wanted to be in. I'm trying to prove him wrong, but you're making it difficult. You just got out of the hospital wing so I get you don't want to be bothered just now. I'll see you later." Without a backwards glance, Potter clambered back through the portrait hole, leaving Draco in alone in the cold corridor.
"Bollocks," he muttered.
