Draco Malfoy curled up inside the drapes of his bed, wanting nothing more than to go to sleep. Sadly, sleep seemed as fleeting as a restful thought, darting and twisting just outside his reach, like a tuft of thistledown.

Draco Malfoy stood, suddenly not caring what his dormmates thought of his wakefulness (this was normal). In fact, Draco Malfoy was momentarily baffled to discover that he didn't care what his Head of House thought of his sleepless night (this was not normal), and, so motivated, actually exited the room and headed down to the Common Room.

Once there, he lay, head reclining back in the black leather sofa, staring up at the porthole into the Black Lake. Apparently the Squid was also having trouble sleeping. Did Squid sleep? Draco Malfoy was somehow sure Granger would know, and equally certain that he'd never ask. Perhaps he might manage to tweak her nose enough to get her to share - unasked, of course.

The next morning saw him without a blink of sleep, his eyes looking sunken within a pasty face, deep dark bags underneath his eyes. If the Gryffindors could be bothered to look in his general direction, they'd be whispering.

As it was, they were too busy either

1) Eating as if Doomsday were tommorrow (weasley)

2) Studying intermittently, as if she'd already read everything (Hermione).

Draco couldn't wait for classes to be over.

Through the day, classes tried to impinge on Draco's restless nature - McGonagall called him out for squirming in class, for Merlin's Sake!

Malfoys did not squirm (he thought, hearing it in his father's impeccable elocution). Still, when even the dotty Arithmancy teacher asked him a question, and for once he didn't know the answer (to be fair, Granger didn't either, judging by her staring at him speechlessly*). Draco briefly considered trying to claim sickness to get out of Herbology, but then Cho was there, and he knew that if he didn't look sick enough to throw Cho off, she'd insist on telling, and Professor Sprout would find work for him that would be decidedly unpleasant in detention. Rumor had it that her husband was killed by Death Eaters - years and years ago, but Rumor also had it that she never forgot a grudge. Either it was true, or it wasn't, but Draco didn't want to find out.

After class it was time for Quiddich, except that Draco Malfoy wasn't really in the mood for Quiddich. Still, that was the best part about being a Seeker. When they weren't doing Seeker-related drills, you weren't really required to do anything except stay in the air. Well, technically, you were supposed to be looking for the Snitch, but since Draco caught it so rarely, he could skive off without anyone really noticing - or caring.

A distressing thought had rather blindsided Draco early in the day. He had thought of all the ways that it would be advantageous to Potter to be in a different house - but what if that wasn't what they were looking for? What if all they wanted was to hide him? What if the ... was looking for him? Wanted to do him harm? Everyone knew the last place to look for goody-two-shoes was Slytherin. They were practically famous for skullduggery, and nevermind that the last three Dark Lords before this one had been Ravenclaw, Hufflepuff, and Ravenclaw. (It was widely understood that a Gryffindor would be unable to actually run anything - that was why Arthur had lost his round table, after all. No one would take a Gryffindor Dark Lord seriously... which probably meant he should watch Granger closely for dark delusions).

Draco Malfoy's brain had wanted to split in two at that point. His childlike self had wanted to insist, "No way would my godfather EVER let potter in his house! He hates him!"

His more sober, adult - rational - brain had responded back, "Oh, you think? Hasn't he always been complaining about no one daring to discipline the Chosen One? Tell me you can't see his cruel, toothy smile. Particularly if no one's going to acknowledge that Potter's the famous one. Because then no Special Treatment."

When you put it that way, Draco actually nearly saw the appeal (other than having to share a room with the obnoxious brat). Well, except for the obvious. Potter couldn't pull off being in Slytherin even if he tried. They'd eat him alive.

Draco pushed himself into a skreetching dive, howling in glee as if he had really caught sight of the Snitch. He passed dangerously near one of the Chasers, who cursed, and the Captain, who swerved wildly to get out of Draco's way. He turned the dive into a steep climb, pushing the limits of the broom until it nearly broke from the gees.

Draco Malfoy lost himself in thought, staring up at the clouds (even as his team cursed him far below - it had become increasingly apparent that Draco wasn't practicing, as he was well above regulation height). I could do it... Draco thought, his eyes taking on a maniacal gleam. I could be the person everyone looked to. They left a power vacuum - that could be me, riding on everyone's shoulders. Being the hero. Never having to be in the shadow again.

Oh, sure, everyone knew who Draco Malfoy was... but that was as part of a Powerful Family, not known as himself. Nobody cared about Draco Malfoy as a person,he was pretty sure. His friends wanted to be known as friends of the Family, and not of Draco.

It would be weird, he thought, to see people look at me, and see what I've done, not what my Father has done lately. To see respect in everyone's eyes, for having done what was accounted to be a very good thing indeed.

Draco Malfoy shook his head, letting all those dreams fall to the ground, shattering on impact. There was one significant problem with all of this - he really wasn't sure he could pull it off. Oh, accumulating power was easy - but fighting a Dark Lord? There had to be some reason they were lavishing this much energy on Potter, wasn't there? It wasn't just "Dumbledore Likes Him", was it? The alta kocher wasn't that daft, was he?

Draco Malfoy let himself float in space, for a moment letting everything go blank. What if he just did nothing? Let this play out exactly as people wanted it to?

Draco Malfoy shook his head, letting out a keening laugh. No, where was the fun in that? Oh, sure he could tell his father about this plan... but then it wouldn't be his. His to break. His to save. His to laugh at, if need be.

No, Draco Malfoy was not the type to sit around while others wove plans around him. Draco wanted in.

Lucky, then, wasn't it, that Potter was destined to be a Hufflepuff? With a wry smile on his face, Draco Malfoy stepped to the ground, walking off from a half-done practice, as if there was nothing wrong with leaving halfway early.

*No, Draco, that's not why she wasn't being a knowitall.

[a/n: School interrupts all the good plots. Leave a review, folks!]