A/N: Well, I'm in a rather large bout of laziness, and I've got my first day of pre-camp for band tomorrow, so I ought to go to bed early to get up early, but anyhoo, I'm attempting a chapter tonight. I REALLY NEED THOSE IDEAS, FOLKS!

Disclaimer: No horrible dreams tonight..hee hee. Well, aside from the one where I wasn't the owner of Harry Potter. No..wait..that wasn't a dream.

The next day, Wednesday, Draco was pleased to see that the "dream catcher" seemed to be doing something. The Weasley girl had bags under her eyes, her hair mussed up, and her robes askew. He looked at Blaise, smirking.

"How's that, mate? She'll have been up all night--there's no way anyone could sleep through those dreams."

"Bloody brilliant, that was. Got her off my back for a while."

"I doubt that," Draco barely was able to hear Blaise mutter.

What's he on about? 'I doubt that'? She can't even pin it on me! She doesn't even know what's going on! Besides, there's no way she'll be able to THINK being this tired. Setting a shrewd expression on his face, Draco questioned the comment.

"Er..nothing. Sorry."

"Uh-huh." Draco forgot it and returned to his cereal, ready to enjoy a day that would hopefully be free of hexes and pranks and such. After all, she wouldn't have the energy.

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Draco had been sorely mistaken in his musings over breakfast. If anything, the redhead was on a relentless tirade to get him back for landing her in detention. Something about the dungeons, he heard. Being so engrossed in his conversation with Pansy, which was actually more her fawning over him and his obviously crude remarks to her, he didn't notice her and the other Gryffindor leave the Great Hall, not too long before he did.

SMACK!

Draco's cheek stung from the hand that found his face as he was leaving the Great Hall. Cursing, he glared down at his attacker.

"What the bloody hell was that for, Weasley?!" He demanded.

"You know very well what that was for!" Draco flinched as she flung her hands up in his face. They were all red, and it looked like blisters were forming. Draco just sneered.

"You should've been the one down in the dungeons, scrubbing waste from the walls!"

"Why ever might that be, Weasel? It's where you belong, isn't it? Cleaning grime in someone's basement?" Draco was pleased to see her eyes flash and nostrils flare angrily. A small audience had formed around them. He wasn't too pleased to see Blaise standing with the Gryffindor, both with wide grins plastered across their faces.

"Compared to you, that grime is spotless," she said calmly.

The comment stung. He didn't know why, it just did. Her voice was no longer loud or shrill. And, for some reason unbeknownst to him, he knew it wouldn't hurt as much if she had screamed it at him. At least, that's what he told himself. He--Draco, a Malfoy--of course would never admit, even to himself that what hurt was that it had been the Weasley girl who said it. Even if Ron had said it, it wouldn't have hurt.

Scared, possibly for the first time in his life, Draco couldn't stay there anymore. He pushed past her, elbowing his way through the crowd without apologizing (ooo..shocker) and broke into a sprint that didn't cease until he reached his room, his bed. He didn't know, didn't have an answer. For once, this was something that he couldn't trick out of his mind. Draco couldn't lie to himself. He couldn't immediately come up with an explanation. He couldn't, and it worried him.

A/N: I know, I know, it's a SHORT chapter, VERY short, and I didn't even know I was going here with it, but I suppose that since this is already chapter eighteen, it's okay to 'spice things up a bit'. lol Anyway, sorry I didn't tell what Ginny's dream was--and I don't think I will, anyway. PLEASE R&R with nice long messages!