A Dream Is A Wish

One-shots

Disclaimer: Everything belongs to JK Rowling. The song is from Disney.
Harry was tired. It wasn't the kind of satisfied tiredness he felt after a good session of Quidditch practice, or the kind after a great round of sex. No, it was more than that. It was the kind of bone-deep exhaustion that settled all around Harry and brought him down. The kind that preyed on his emotions until they were tattered at the edges and bore down on his soul until it was raw and aching.

He collapsed on the bed, staring blankly up at the canopy. He could hear the soft snores from his roommates, peacefully asleep and probably dreaming of rainbows and lemon drops and happy endings. But Harry was wide awake, though technically, he should be sleeping by now, tired after his earlier assignation. Instead, Harry was wide awake, fueled by the growing misery that seemed intent on breaking him.

Harry knew he looked the perfect picture of 'just shagged.' His hair, perpetually messy, was even more tousled by fingers weaving and tugging and gripping the black strands. Harry's lips were red and kiss-bruised, pink bite-marks trailing down the side of his neck. There were bruises on his wrists and probably on his back as well. His black robe, haphazardly heaped beside him, was covered in dust and probably torn as well from having been rutted against the wall and floor. His shirt and trousers were creased and wrinkled and his tie was draped around his shoulders instead of being knotted.

It was physically satisfying, the sex. It was enough to just get off and release the tension settling in him. Or, it had been enough. Now, Harry found himself wanting more. Found himself wishing that maybe it would last longer, and not just the fucking, that it would mean something to the other person, just as it has started to mean something for him. These were dangerous thoughts because Malfoy had made it explicitly clear that it was nothing but shagging. Harry knew that when he'd entangled himself in this, though there'd been no entangling during the first few weeks.

Why did Harry want more, anyway? And with Malfoy? The fact that he was sleeping with Draco Malfoy wasn't a big deal because it was just sex. Or had been, anyway. Malfoy wasn't different; he was the same mean-spirited git who kept on insulting Harry and his friends. He still loathed Muggleborns and used 'Mudblood' in every other sentence.

But sometimes…sometimes when they were kissing, trying to dominate the other (Malfoy often won, and it bothered Harry that it didn't bother him more) Harry would feel a strange happiness trying to worm its way out. When Malfoy was pounding into him, biting his lower lip, eyes half-lidded and bright with lust, Harry felt something poignant twist in his chest. And when they both came together, the other boy slumped over him as he tried to catch his breath, Harry felt as if he could stay there forever.

Harry knew he shouldn't be feeling this way. Hopeless, dangerous, stupid were just some of the words that would describe it. And this was part of why Harry was just so exhausted, forcefully pulling away from the edge of the cliff and preventing the seemingly inevitable fall and shatter. The other was keeping it all to himself, rejoicing through the sex and skin-on-skin contact and the intense kissing only to end up hollow and brittle when Malfoy left without another word or glance.

Harry crawled to the middle of his bed and curled in on himself, pressing his fists into his eyes. He let out a shuddery sigh and finally the day was catching up to him. A moment later, Harry was asleep.

"Harry! There you are!"

Harry sharply turned around and saw Malfoy walking towards him, a smile on his face as he approached. Harry stared. Malfoy never smiled. Never. He either smirked, sneered or scowled. Not smile…

"Malfoy, what…" Harry began as the blond reached his side. He was completely taken by surprise when Malfoy took his hand and laced their fingers together.

The other boy cocked his head to the side, smile now turned into a playful pout. Harry wasn't even going to contemplate what he saw in those grey eyes.

"Harry, I thought I'd finally convinced you to use my first name." Draco shook his head. "You'd think I'd have a harder time calling you Harry than you calling me Draco!"

All Harry could do was stare. This was…this was unbelievable. The smile on Draco's face, his twinkling grey eyes, their intertwined fingers and Draco calling him 'Harry.' It was too much. Somehow, Malfoy had found out about his secret and it was like a punch in the gut, a mockery to his hidden feelings.

Harry's chest tightened and felt tears prickle in his eyes. He tried tugging his hand free but Malfoy held on tightly, concern lighting his face as he saw the way Harry's face twisted in devastation.

"Harry…what…what's wrong? Are you all right?" He sounded genuinely worried and Harry shook his head. Impossible, too impossible! This…this had to be some sort of joke. There was no way Malfoy would…

"Let m-me go," Harry mumbled out, lowering his face to hide the tears slipping down his cheeks. He pulled his hand away once more and felt Malfoy's smooth fingers leave his. His hand fell to his side. "You can s-stop the j-joke now. You w-win," Harry choked out before he bolted, heading to wherever his legs led him.

He ignored Malfoy calling out to him and just ran.

His legs brought him to Gryffindor tower. The common room was curiously empty and so was his dormitory but Harry was too distraught to care. He fell on his bed, burying his face into his pillow and cried. How did Malfoy find out? How could the other boy be…be that cruel, mocking his feelings? Couldn't Malfoy, just once, be nice and ignore his discovery instead of shoving it into his face in the worse way possible: pretending to feel the same thing when they both knew it would never happen?

Harry was still crying when he felt the bed dip down and a warm weight settle next to him. Harry buried his face deeper into his pillow, hoping that if he ignored Malfoy the other boy would leave. Wasn't he done yet? No, of course not. Malfoy still had to gloat over it.

Gentle fingers weaved into Harry's hair, combing the unkempt strands and Harry shook his head.

"Leave me alone," he shakily said, words muffled by the pillow and tears.

"Oh Harry," Draco murmured. "What's wrong, love? Why are you crying? Harry, tell me. Please."

Malfoy never said please. Harry looked up at him, shocked and saw the genuine concern and tenderness shining in those eyes. "You're not supposed to be here!" Harry blurted out.

Draco rolled his eyes. "You gave me the password. You told me to come here anytime I wanted. I couldn't very well leave you alone when you're obviously upset about something. Now, tell me, what is wrong?"

Harry shook his head again, confused and hurt beyond words. "No…I…I gave you the password? I don't – this is all so weird. You're Malfoy, you hate me and I'm – I'm supposed to hate you and it doesn't matter that I don't but you can't…this is all some horrid joke, isn't it?" Harry knew he was babbling but he couldn't shut up. "A cruel joke on the stupid Boy Who Lived because he fell in lo – because he's stupid and his pain means you're enjoyment! Get out, get out! I hate you…I hate you and you hate me…get out, get the FUCK out!"

He struggled to sit up and pushed Malfoy away, who looked utterly confused and dismayed.

"Harry, Harry what's wrong? What is a joke? Harry, stop." Malfoy's arms came around Harry and he pushed at the other boy's chest, fighting and crying because this wasn't just happening. But he was sobbing too hard to struggle properly and ended up being hugged tightly by the boy Harry wanted so badly. He collapsed in Malfoy's arms, savoring for a moment the sensation. Draco buried his face into Harry's hair, hugging him fiercely.

"You idiot, what in Merlin's name are you talking about?" Draco demanded hotly, nuzzling his nose through the strands. "I don't hate you and you in pain doesn't cause me anything but pain as well. How can you say that?" His voice was now accusing, angry. "And you don't mean that. You don't hate me…I don't hate you…Harry, what the fuck is going on with you?" Draco abruptly pulled back, glaring hard at Harry. "Did you hit your head or something?"

Things weren't making sense at all. Harry could see no treachery in Draco's eyes, just an honesty that confused him. The last thing he remembered was Malfoy fucking him. Just fucking him. There was no affection there, no 'Harry.' But this…this Malfoy was different. Loving.

Harry's breath stuttered in his chest. "I…I don't know. All I can remember is us fucking…just that. Shagging, no strings attached. I hate you, you hate me and that's it, only with the added factor of getting off. We're enemies shagging each other, not lovers. You don't…nothing is making sense!"

Draco was staring at Harry as if he'd lost his mind. His hands came up and cupped Harry's face. "I think you're going through a mental breakdown or something. I think this is what I've been waiting for. You were too calm, indifferent when you killed the Dark Lord. This is it, your breakdown – "

At that, Harry sat up straight. This was the last straw. Voldemort, dead? Because of him? He couldn't remember that. This must be some dream. He'd killed Voldemort and he was still alive? With Malfoy? Definitely a dream.

" – it's all finally catching up to you. I've been dreading your reaction for months now and it's worse than I could have ever imagined." Draco bit his lip, looking incredibly worried as he stroked Harry's cheeks with a gentleness that was startling. "Oh Harry, its okay, love. Everything's fine now. You don't need your panic attack."

"A dream," Harry said dazedly. "This is nothing but a dream."

Draco's eyes flashed at that and he pulled Harry's face close to his own, scowling at him. "No, this isn't a dream. You killed Voldemort two months ago and you're reaction is just showing now. We've been together for a year now and I love you. You love me. Try to calm down and think about it. I'll be very displeased with you if you forget because of some stupid breakdown."

The blond sounded so sure of himself but Harry was dubious. He stared down at his hands and felt the soft circling motion of Draco's thumbs on his cheeks. It was soothing and it was so nice. Harry closed his eyes, letting his mind wrap around what Draco said. What if…what if it was real? That this was real. That he and Draco were real? That he really was just having some sort of delayed reaction and that Draco did really love him?

Harry took a deep breath. It was all too much to take in all at once.

Draco grasped his chin and lifted his face to his. There was a gentle smile on the blond's face and Harry saw everything he'd been wanting to see in Draco's grey eyes.

"Do you…do you really love me?" Harry asked shyly, his breath catching his throat. A blush painted his cheeks and everything in him was desperate to hear a 'yes.'

"I love you, Harry," Draco earnestly said, pressing a soft kiss to the black-haired boy's quivering lips. "I love you, I love you, I love you."

Tears filled Harry's eyes and his heart thundered in his chest. The relief was so acute that it was painful to hear those words and the emotions in Draco's eyes. Everything Harry had been secretly longing was finally here. He didn't care if this was a dream or not because here, Draco loved him. This was the reality Harry wanted. He would keep it.

"Oh," Harry whispered and the tears spilled over. "Oh."

Overwhelmed, Harry just leaned closer and pressed his mouth to Draco's in response. "Oh," Harry mumbled again and clutched Draco's shoulders tightly, bringing him closer. His mouth opened under the blond and they kissed hungrily, tongues dancing and their hands grasping at each other desperately.

Draco pushed him down until he was straddling Harry. Draco tore his mouth away and pressed kisses all over Harry's face, licking the salty tears away. "Say it. Say it, Harry." His voice was hoarse and he ground his groin against Harry's.

Harry gasped, hands fumbling with the buttons on Draco's shirt. "I…oh…I l-love you, Draco. Oh Draco…DracoDracoDraco…"

The blond captured Harry's lips and swallowed the rest of his words.

"Harry…"

It was a rare moment when Harry woke up with a smile on his face. Usually, he would be pale and sweating, nauseated at his Voldemort-infested dreams. Or sometimes, when his dreams weren't being monopolized by some psycho, they were always dreams of things he could never have and caused Harry to wake up on more than one occasion with a heavy heart.

However, that day, Harry awoke with a big smile on his face, his heart uplifted and content. He stretched like a lazy cat, eyes still closed. His body hummed pleasurably, the way it did after a vigorous bout of fantastic shagging.

He turned to his side, arms expecting to wrap around another warm body. But all he was met with was air and his soft blankets.

Harry stilled, the smile frozen on his face. Then last night's activities came crashing down, along with that dream. That stupid, fucking, impossible dream. Harry clenched his eyes tightly and his hands curled into fists around the blanket as his mind shoved moment after moment of that hateful dream into his face.

A dream is a wish your heart makes, when you're fast asleep…in dreams you will lose your heartaches, whatever you wish for, you keep…

He'd once heard those words in some silly fairy tale movie. It was sweet, the lyrics, but now Harry hated those words. Those words were stupid, untrue and hurtful because in the end, when you wake up, all your heartaches return, doubled. And that wishes were for fools, dreams for idiots and you can never have and keep your desires.