Disclaimer: Rowling's universe and her characters don't belong to me. I just had an idea and wanted to share it on a website where fanfictions can clearly be posted.
I hope you like it .-. It's my first Harco / Drarry and it is, obviously, a translation. I'm still practicing my english so, if you find any type of mistakes, please let me know!
Despite the fact that the nearest star dared to hide behind the gray clouds that remained from the previous day, the day seemed to be a quiet one, not at all atypical. Unless it was the '90s, the time of the famous Harry Potter that seemed to be just beginning, since there were about four more years to become a memory.
In the two years prior to the current one, events occurred around Potter and his group of friends, unique to them. And at this precise moment, Draco Malfoy, known rival of the boy who lived, was living his third year at Hogwarts, which for him was just another one.
The capture of the famous assassin Sirius Black was the only thing he expected to happen by the end of the year, aside from the resignation or dismissal of Professor Lupin and Slytherin winning the house cup.
Nevertheless, young Malfoy was in an unusual state today.
He had suddenly made everyone known that he had recovered from his accident with Hagrid's class hippogryph by forgetting to act like he was incapable of holding the fork. And he had his platinum blonde hair disheveled from running his fingers through it as if the simple act was capable of distracting him from his thoughts. However, it actually helped him dive further into the sea of them.
No. Draco Malfoy definitely was not worried about Harry Potter.
Nobody would question the unquestionable if they did not see the adolescent pureblood wandering the castle with his mind elsewhere. It was just lucky, suspiciously similar to Potter's, that the Slytherin hadn't fallen down the moving stairs in his self-absorbed state.
Nobody would question the unquestionable if he wasn't unconsciously heading for the Hogwarts infirmary, where a teenager whose name everyone knew, with hair even messier than his own, was recovering from his last Quidditch match.
Opening the white door and walking into the gurney-filled room, Draco wondered if Potter didn't have a curse or something that sent him to the infirmary more times than any other student.
Perhaps it was simply the need for attention that was leading all the Gryffindor acts.
"If you weren't on the gurney, Potter, lamenting over your old broom, I would cast a spell on you for daring to die."
While Draco proceeded to speak to an unconscious Harry, he was having one of the most wonderful dreams.
In a large space, with soaring ceilings and walls that he could not distinguish, the darkness enveloped him as if he were a candy. Although every now and then a firefly would sneak into his vision and broke it blatantly.
Harry shuffled his feets across the ground as he raised his hands to the glow bug. It took him a couple more tries to catch it, at which point the darkness seemed to shrink as did the room, and then to open and free itself for the white to make an appearance and take the leading role.
He was disappointed that it was only in the form of floating points, similar to fireflies. He consoled himself that he could already see where he was. He even noticed silver threads floating from the white dots.
Feeling like a little kid, ignorant of the dangers of the unknown, Harry made contact with them with the tips of his fingers, which he slid to touch the dots, the tact of which made him instinctively withdraw his hands: it burned him.
"Star?" He muttered. He brought his steaming fingers closer again, this time seeking to caress the points.
"Do you see me star-faced, Potter?" She replied, blinking with each word, then adding in a low voice: "What else can I expect from you?"
"You are a star."
He claimed. And without fear of burning, he said:
"I wish one."
And in the next second his brain adjusted to the supposed reality, located in a bright and whitish room, with the company of a boy with green robes and silver hair who seemed puzzled by Harry's weak attempts to touch his face that ended in bruised hands, from recent Quidditch match, gasping for air.
Before thinking twice, his heart made its own way and spoke.
"If my wish you were
I your life would be.
Once your purpose is fulfilled,
in my shadow you would become.
You in my happiness, me in your reason for living."
And with those words, Harry felt a tingle run the length of his body that urged him to sit up, wrap his arms around Draco's waist, and draw him into a hug as he dropped onto the bed with the blonde, in shock, forced to fall on him.
"Umm… Madame Pomfrey?!"