Union/4

A/N: More interaction occurring this chapter with our pairing, and next time you'll find out who the mysterious girl is in Harry's dream. Enjoy! PS: For anyone who doesn't remember, Snuffles is what Sirius asked them to call him while away at Hogwarts.

Everyone in fourth year was given hefty amounts of work to do over the holiday, but Harry and Ron found themselves preoccupied with wizard's chess more than anything. There were numerous students that had signed on to stay over break, as a result of the ball or wanting to mingle with the students from the other schools, and the two found it hard to do much else in the seemingly smaller common room, lest they went out into the wintery fairytale that was the castle grounds.

Harry let Ron beat him for the fourth time that morning. He was happy to be distracted and really just playing to pass the time. Harry had always had trouble with accomplishing restful sleep, so his friends were easily convinced that his foggy mind and zoning out was due to daydreams or stress with the ongoing tournament.

He would agree with that reasoning himself, if it were not for how often, and unabating the dreams were in their feelings of actuality. Even in his waking hours, they came to him in slow, pulsing waves, images from his nightly adventures that would swell around his mind like a high tide. He strained at times to hold them there and remember what he saw. When the waves pulled back, he was left with a dull headache.

Last night was thankfully a mostly dreamless sleep, with what he could only recall having been flashes of pale yellow, lips pulled into a smile, and the warmth of a fire that he still remembers cradling him as he woke up this morning, again just before twilight.

"Harry, come on, it's not any fun if you don't even try!" His friend grumbled in annoyance as he rearranged the rather bored looking chess pieces for them to go again. "What's wrong anyways?"

He sagged in his chair and looked apologetically at his friend. "Sorry, just haven't heard back from Snuffles since his congratulations on the first task, and..."

"And, it's almost Christmas, and you're still having nightmares I imagine?"

Harry looked up at him in minor surprise. "You knew?"

Ron rolled his eyes at this. "Come on, Harry, we're right next to each other. I can practically hear you shaking in your sleep."

"Shaking?"

"Yeah, I can hear your teeth chattering and it wakes me up. Then it stops and I know you must've woken up again."

Harry caught a tightness in Ron's voice that indicated he was trying to hide his worry. He was speechless, primarily taken aback by Ron's attentiveness. Thankfully Ron decided to fill the lag in conversation.

"Anyways, look, don't worry about Snuffles. Pigwidgeon is probably just taking a bit in this weather," he gestured to the fat snowflakes tapping against the windows, "I wouldn't put it past him if he stopped multiple times for rest. Little bugger."

"Yeah," Harry watched as the board was at last reset and felt a little more at ease with not having to pretend that he wasn't utterly exhausted, "You're probably right."

When Ron didn't have any response, he raised his gaze to see the redhead looking on at him intently. He went to ask why yet was interrupted by his friend himself.

"I'm not saying," he started carefully, "that I'm entitled to know anything going on with you just because we're best mates. I just want to make sure, is everything alright?" Ron surveyed Harry with furrowed brows as he waited.

Harry wanted to tell him everything right then, about how he would wake up completely winded, as if rather than sleeping he had been doing laps around the castle- or about how elaborate his dreams actually were. However, as the idea arose, it quickly simmered down, as he realized he may cause real worry in his friend who would undoubtedly tell Hermione everything as well.

"I'm just having some rather extensive insomnia with the stress of everything going on," he heard Ron exhale as if he were holding his breath for more, "but, if it'll make you feel better, I'll go back up before lunch and have a rest."

Ron cleared his throat and nodded towards him. "I think that'd be for the best. I didn't want to say anything, but you look like hell." He grinned at him. "You're probably the reason our dates haven't come over to say hello all break so far."

"You wish, they probably caught wind of your dress robes."

They shared a laugh, finally breaking the tension that had arose, and agreed to play one more match before Harry retired for a welcome nap.

Harry won this time.

As Harry was getting accustomed to finding himself waking up in a dream, this time hadn't come to much of a shock to him. It still took a moment for him to focus on key differences from his day-to-day life to remind himself where he was, but he ultimately succeeded. What he hadn't expected was to open his eyes to a familiar setting, with the burning of frustration and humility already sinking in.

He watched as the tail-end of Cho's robes disappeared around the corner, and the same stone of rejection settled heavily on his chest. He then became aware of a presence behind him, turning to find Malfoy standing a stride away with his hands clenched and ears red, shining brightly against his pale-yellow hair. Now he was sure his subconscious was torturing him.

"I thought you already had a date to the ball, Potter?" Malfoy spat the words at him, and they cracked at Harry like a whip.

Harry tried to muster his own anger to snap back but faltered when he saw the expression in the Slytherin's eyes. They weren't mocking or cruel, however held a shocking brilliance of purpose. The blond's jaw clenched as he seemed to bite back something he wanted to say as he waited.

Not backing down now, Harry said with whatever spite he could find, "It's none of your business who I take to the ball, Malfoy."

Malfoy had cleared the distance between them in a blink and took the front of Harry's robes in his fists, boring his eyes so hard into Harry's that he felt a rush of cold pass through him. He came to notice that the hands balled against his chest were shaking.

"Well I'm making it my business!"

The breath was pushed from his lungs with the force Malfoy collided his lips to his own and a wave of heat quickly replaced the cold airlessness. It rippled through him, reaching out to the palms of his hands, which he realized now had shot up to the blond's shoulders before him, however unsure if he were holding him there or trying to push him away as he found himself unable to move. His eyes remained wide in shock as he felt the Slytherin's hands snake around his neck, the boy's lips continuing to move against his.

Harry could feel the heat radiating from Malfoy's cheeks, and felt his own face grow hot as he noticed the goosebumps springing up on the back of his neck where Malfoy's fingers were tracing the skin.

The warmth that was coursing through him was slightly subdued when Malfoy broke the kiss between them and fixated Harry with his gaze. How had he not noticed these glittering grey eyes all the other times he caught them? Harry's body was buzzing as if urging him to act. He watched the steely eyes drop to watch as his tongue darted out across his lips and found Malfoy's mouth curling into his usual smirk.

He leaned in to whisper in Harry's ear, who couldn't hold the shiver that ran down his spine at bay when the breath tickled against his skin.

"You can't back out on me now, Potter. You're mine for the ball."

Harry swallowed hard as Malfoy backed up enough to observe the stunned look on his face. Though, as soon as Malfoy's eyes made their way back to his own, he watched a slow, but obvious change in his features. The grin fell from his face as he stared on into Harry's eyes, and then Harry felt it: a feeling like a magnetic pull between them. There was a flicker of something in the stare still locked on his own that sent a jolt of electricity across them, causing both of their eyes to go wide, and then they were gone.

Harry and Draco awoke at the same time, neither one of them making a move to get up from where they had settled for rest, nor feeling rested one bit.

Draco found his hands clenched around either arm of the chair he had dozed off in earlier, and a fresh coat of sweat trickling down his neck. What in Merlin's beard was that? He glanced around the common room where many of his Slytherin counterparts were gossiping back and forth or enjoying the decorations- even the eerie green glow from the lake seemed festive this time of year -and exhaled with relief that no one had paid any mind to his ruffled state. At least instead of an odd dream, he could blame the sweat on the fire he had sat himself in front of.

His stomach clenched in remembrance of what had just occurred. No, of what he had dreamed. He sucked his lips together and bit at them in annoyance as if to punish them for what they did, clearly against his will. He stood suddenly and found himself stumbling back into the chair when stars appeared in his vision and a feeling of faintness carried him backwards. He put his face into his hands to bring himself together, and once his vision cleared, he was filled with a mixture of anger and confusion.

This wasn't a normal occurrence, though he hated to admit it also was not the first. Ever since almost a week ago now, each nightly incident became more vivid than the next. Some with similar events, some as a normal day at the school. He needed to see Potter, he needed some answers.

"I see you've decided to grace us with your presence again, sire!"

Draco almost jolted out of his chair in alarm as he turned towards the voice and saw Blaise in a low, satirical bow beside him. Without missing a beat despite the now piercing glare of his friend, Blaise continued on.

"My liege, the duchess and I were hoping you'd make your company known at our midday meal." Zambini raised his brows at him and glanced back towards Pansy, who was waiting near their portrait.

"Blaise," he cleared his throat, hearing the irritated tone in his own voice and said more lightly, "enough theatrics. I'll come along, just go ahead of me."

His friend rose and settled a hand on his hip, clearly unsatisfied with his response.

"You," he said pointedly, "missed out on breakfast, and going to the library with us, to doze off here," he gestured to where the blond sat "- and you think I'm going to let you escape another meal to wither away?"

Draco opened his mouth to respond, but Blaise pulled him out of the chair by the arm and dusted his hands over the blond's robes to straighten them before he could say a word.

"I think not!" His friend said dutifully, and within a second Draco found himself being nudged toward Pansy, her eyebrows raised, and a hand over her mouth to suppress her laughter.

"Blaise, you're too cruel to him," she laughed, "He's only just woken up." She pouted out her bottom lip and fixed her eyes on Draco. "We know you've got to be hungry, Drakey, and it wouldn't make me a good date of yours to let you go famished."

Draco pressed his lips into a thin line at the nickname she had bestowed him and kept moving towards the portrait and out into the hall with them trailing behind. He quickly placed his usual bored expression on his face and turned to them as they caught up.

"You're right, I am hungry. If only they would allow us to pay extra for room service here." He flattened his hair with his hands and adjusted his collar to its appropriate straightness.

"You know that old fool of a headmaster wouldn't allow that," Pansy retorted, "Especially now with that bucktooth Granger girl and her petition for… what was it, Blaise?"

"Equal rights for house elves as magical creatures. You know, pay, time off, the whole outfit."

"Absurd!" She shrieked.

They made their way to the great hall, and found a seat by Crabbe and Goyle who both had plates already piled high with no surprise to anyone. Draco rolled his eyes at the two, but not out of nastiness. If there was one thing these two were passionate about, it was food. He himself opted in for something lighter and pulled a small piece of roast chicken towards him and a dollop of sprouts.

The group talked for the most part amongst themselves, around their normally leading friend who managed along the conversations with an occasional grunt or soft chuckle to acknowledge what was said. As he poured himself some black tea with honey to top off his meal, Pansy squeezed into his side, and smiled widely at him.

"Drake," she bit her lip, trying to act cutely towards him, but instead looked more on the pinched side, "What color should my dress be?"

He took his time, stirring his tea to feign thoughtfulness, when truthfully, he hadn't even thought about that. He had already had his dress robes packed without any thought of trying to match another person. His father already informed him of the events happening at the school thanks to his position with the ministry. He looked at her from his eye's corner and took a long sip of his tea before responding, relishing in the warmth that poured into him. Pansy was doing everything but shaking him to respond, as she had her hand around his arm to bring the tea down to the table, and her eyes bulged out at him.

"Draco Malfoy!" Her voice was stern, "Appearances are important! Tell me, what color are your robes and I'll see what I can work with?" She patted his arm anxiously, as if to speed him up.

"Black."

"What?" She scrunched up her face at him.

"My dress robes are black. Velvet." He responded in a drawl, to which she exclaimed excitedly at the ease of matching. He took another quick sip of his tea only to find himself choking on the hot liquid when his eyes caught a familiar unkempt-haired boy tottering through the crowded hall with his two mates toward their house table.

Pansy cried out and patted him between his shoulder blades, gushing over him with overdramatic worry. Draco paid no mind to her as he continued to cough into his sleeve, eyes steady on the back of Potter's head as he seated himself across the hall. He wasn't letting him get out of his sight now, not when this may be his only chance.

Harry sat himself clumsily between Ron and Hermione at the Gryffindor table in the great hall, off-balance from his streak of unrestful sleep, choosing to ignore the worried glance Ron eyed him with. Being that his exhaustion was affecting his appetite, he began to wonder how anyone ate three meals a day as he stared at the toast and marmalade Hermione pushed towards him. Despite the noise of the densely crowded hall, he cradled his face in his hands and closed his eyes. No matter what he did, he couldn't push the memory of Malfoy's lips flush against his own. Think, think about anything else. He thought about the egg he still was nowhere solving. He thought about the useless clue Cedric had given him just two days prior. He thought about Cho… She was so pretty, and such a talent at Quidditch. Then there was Parvati… he was happy to have a date with someone who could have easily had one by now. She was nice enough, and got good marks. He could at least show her a good time.

He exhaled slowly and dropped his hands from his face to see an unexpected sight.

No.

He rubbed his eyes quickly as if to push away the scene around him. He was very plainly sitting in what seemed to be a dorm in Slytherin tower, on the edge of a four-poster bed with the rich emerald curtains drawn. His head ached as he darted his eyes around the room, and was pulled back to where he was by a rather annoyed voice interrupting his reeling thoughts.

"Ahem. Are you paying attention? This is important to me, too, you know."

His eyes focused on the person standing off to the left of the dorm room. In front of a full-length mirror, adjusting the collar of his dress robes, was Malfoy, mumbling about how pertinent appearances were to Malfoys as a whole. Words flew around his mind, questions about how he'd gotten there, accusations, anything else than the words that seemed to come from another place.

"I wouldn't be paying attention to anything else." Harry's throat clenched as the words left him, and an odd feeling of admiration flipped around in his stomach. To his dismay, the boy before him smiled softly at him from the reflection and smoothed out the front of his robes.

Harry's heart began to flutter against his ribcage. How did he get here? He was just… well, he couldn't remember where he had been before this, but he knew it certainly was not here. Trying as he was, he couldn't remove his gaze from the slender blond before him. His robes he had dressed in were a rich, dark velvet that was fitted around his form elegantly. The shoulders were strong but lean, and his collar was high and modest, accentuating the slenderness of his neck. Harry's eyes trailed down the length of his arms, and hips, to the expertly shined shoes before he quickly willed away the prickling heat rising to his cheeks.

The reflection had turned before he registered it, and Malfoy was facing him directly now with his arms out to his sides as if to showcase his outfit.

"Well, how do I look?" A twinge of nervous questioning trailed at the end of the Slytherin's voice, and Harry wondered how, despite all the absences of imperfection, could someone be nervous around him about their looks. He met his eyes and pushed back the fleeting feeling that rushed over him when he found the prior sparkle in the grey eyes of the person before him. He found himself speaking words that again weren't so much his own, although he didn't think that in this moment he would have changed them either way.

"You look beautiful."

"Er- thanks, Harry?"

He was brought to the hall suddenly, the scene coming back to him as the vision dissipated from view like a mist. Ron was staring at him with half a biscuit in his mouth, and had the twins guffawing behind him. Hermione and Neville were particularly interested in an article in the Daily Prophet, trying to hide their amusement behind the paper.

Fred came around and draped an arm around Harry's shoulders, still sniggering.

"Dreaming about love, are you? Don't worry, your date with Pad—er, Parvati will go swimmingly. She's been gushing about you to us ever since you asked her."

He caught the distant, flushed look on Harry's face and a grin swept across his features. "Don't worry, even if she turns out to be a rotten date, I'm sure you'll have your chances with other girls," his smile grew ear to ear as he leaned in closer, "Or… blokes?"

"I am not interested in blokes,' Harry snapped, batting Fred's arm off him.

Fred held his hands up in surrender and backed his way to George again.

"All's I'm saying is you have options. That's all." The elder twin turned back to his biscuits with a wink.

Harry felt a tingling up his spine and carefully looked behind him, remembering what happened the last time he felt the presence of someone. Ironic to what Fred had said, the eyes of Malfoy surveyed him across the other tables, his gaze unwavering as if to make sure he saw him staring. Noticing he caught him, Malfoy stood and walked towards the hall entrance, not disconnecting his gaze until it would have been an effort for him to look backwards.

Taking a quick gulp of pumpkin juice from a stray cup before him, Harry excused himself and followed the blond swiftly out into the corridor.

A/N: So, as we can see, things are progressing more and more with Harry and his visions/dreams of what he can only describe as dreams, while Draco's are a bit more subdued. Still, they have some things to talk about. Harry is being flip-flopped right now, and Draco gets to kind of be along for the ride for now. I'm hoping you'll all like the next chapter!