Hermione set the little pink bottle on her desk in front of her, cursing at it under her breath, as it was very late and her roommates were all asleep.
"Stupid, blasted, little devil" she mumbled, now folding her arms over her chest and huffing the hair away from her face. What was she going to do? The very idea of feeling anything romantic towards Malfoy made her ... she quickly took a seat at her desk. She was exhausted; the first week of classes was always the most chaotic, especially now that school was getting serious. Not that it ever wasn't serious, but a bad mark in year one was much different than a bad mark in year six. Plus there was that whole thing about Lord Voldemort looming over them, the promise of war on the horizon. Hermione let her eyes flutter closed, if she could just catch a few minutes of sleep... but then the smoke tumbled in, she felt a cold draft creep up her spine, and then a distant cackle of laughter echoed in her mind. She awoke with a jolt, took one last look at the potion in front of her, and then brought it to her lips and downed it in a single shot. As she moved to her bedroom, she let herself think only of how magnificent this night of sleep was going to feel, and not the consequences she'd have to face in the morning.
xxx
Draco didn't have a very long walk back to his dormitory, but he wished he had. Too quickly he was already sitting by the fire and arguing with himself. He was tempted to just throw the potion in the fire, so it could no longer even be a thought, but something stopped him. A little prick of sense in the back of his head told him he might need it later, although Draco himself was quite sure he wouldn't. There was no chance he was taking that potion tonight. Once past the horrifying fact that it's a bloody love potion with Granger of all people, it became clear that this whole ordeal was also quite dangerous. In his adolescent self obsession, and perhaps subconscious escapism, Draco had forgotten for a few blissful hours that the Dark Lord had a task for him. A task that might very well get him killed, if he isn't already killed for dreaming about mudbloods. With that final realization, Draco conjured himself a cup of angelica coffee and set on not sleeping at all that night
But only three hours later Draco was asleep and dreaming of brown eyed mudbloods named Hermione Granger. It was the same as always; running through his manor corridors, a flash of green light, Granger dies. He awoke just before he was raising his wand, killing words on the tip of his tongue.
Draco only enjoyed a brief moment of relief, however, before he was thrust back into panic as he felt the weight of chocolate eyes watching him. But as his own grey irises came into focus, he also saw chocolate skin to match, and cheekbones so sharp a touch might draw blood. Draco groaned.
"Watching me in my sleep now, Zabini? Is that what your obsession with me has come to?" Exhaustion was still heavy in his voice.
"I'm not the one with the obsession, Malfoy. You know we can all hear you screaming Granger's name in your sleep. Wonder how the Dark Lord will feels about that…"
Draco's heart felt like it collapsed in on itself, his stomach and lungs soon following as he watched Blaise disappear into the darkness; an eerie grin the last thing he saw. When Draco shot up from his seat a moment later, no longer petrified by fear, he was alone. He ran over to the corner where Blaise had seemingly vanished, and found nothing. Draco slouched back onto the sofa, realizing the entire ordeal had been a make-believe happening inside his head; a witches brew of paranoia and lack of sleep. With a deep sigh and a few angry mumbles, Draco knocked back the potion that had been teasing him this whole time. He had barely made it up the stairs and to his four poster bed before he passed out fully clothed and slept flawlessly through the night, any green smoke or images or Granger far, far away.