Chapter Twenty

Let me start by saying a couple of things. I don't much care for dreams. In my experience I have had too many manipulated, and have had too many dashed to actively seek them out. If I'd had more of the sleeping draught I would have taken it that night, but sadly I did not, having used it up dealing with the DADA and Ginny anxieties. So, since I didn't have any, even though my eyes were closed, I wasn't sleeping. There was a whole bushel of hamsters running around on their blasted squeaky wheels in my brain; I hate hamsters.

In the quiet this particular furry flock was making me relive that kiss, over and over again, despite my best attempts to push the memory away. It would start with the glimpse of Draco's scarred back, and move to an imaginary image of me reaching out for him, brushing my fingers across the welts, feeling them as alternatively warm, or cold, knotted or swollen, and then progress to following him to the bedroom; not at all what had happened I note. I would watch him in this waking dream, as he lay down, and watch his hands as he reached out for me, and remember the real touch of his fingertips as he had drawn them down the scar on my forehead. They were gentle and purposeful as he traced the lightening zigzag there, and even more so as they continued down the side of my face, curling around the nap of my neck. It felt as though I could not catch my breath as I relived the moment, it wasn't so much an ache in my chest, but desperate little pants as I waited for what was to come.

His mouth was soft, as I felt its touch over and over, his breath warm, and his fingers more insistent pulling me to him. Seconds stretched into minutes as I drew out every nuance. The tip of his nose had brushed my cheek, his lips had parted mine, and my jaw had relaxed; relaxed? I hadn't remembered that the first half dozen times through the memory. His chest, his chest had touched mine as we kissed, and I had felt a shudder run across it in that brief moment. I opened my eyes to him, as he pulled away, but his were not lost in sleep yet, I saw them, I swore I had seen them stare deeply at me, with a consciousness of thought that could not have been alcohol induced.

My own eyes flew open, met by the dark of my dorm room. He had known what he was doing, hadn't he? It hadn't been the alcohol had it? Or was I painting a picture of something that had never happened because I couldn't face the thought that my first assumptions had been correct?

I realized, lying there, that I wanted there to have been that recognition, because, and this was hard for me to wrap my brain around just then, I had wanted that kiss to be real. The sickness in my gut was coming, not from revulsion at the thought of Draco kissing me, but from the confusion of my own feelings about it. It had been tender, and innocent, and I could finally admit to myself, after so many hours of introspection, that I had liked it.

That revelation brought its own crop of anxieties.

Exhaustion had finally taken over and forced my body into sleep. I awoke, late, not feeling particularly rested, but feeling a little better than when I had laid down. I still didn't have a clue as to what was true and what was my own imagination, and I had filled my mind with fantasies, or rather, my subconscious, freed from the shackles of my waking brain had gone to town. The one thing I was sure of, or at least though I was sure of, was that I wasn't going to bring it up with Draco unless he asked me about it, because if I was wrong I wasn't about to embarrass him, or make him feel uncomfortable, or drive him away. Patience was one thing I did have.

I didn't see him at breakfast, and he wasn't in Snape's rooms when I went there afterwards. That was okay though, it gave me a chance to get back into the bedroom and start packing up the closets, without having to think too much about what had happened there the night before. I figured if I did everything by hand I would have to concentrate harder so I started folding shirts and pants and packing them into boxes. I continued to wonder what was going to become of all these things. I hadn't known Snape to have ad any family. I guessed that the books, the ones that didn't deal in the Dark Arts, would end up in the school library after Miss Pince had her wand over them. The others would probably go to the Ministry; I might even see them again during my Auror training. The clothing, perhaps it would be donated to less fortunate wizards, the personal effects, well I didn't have a clue about their disposition. I was about to strip the bed when I heard the hall door open. I took a deep breath, pasted a smile on my face and turned to see Draco.

He looked good, better than I had imagined he would. Okay that isn't quite true either. I imagined him looking good; and that was my subconscious hamsters at work there, but I didn't 'think' he'd look as good as he was managing after the emotional upset, and port of the night before.

He was back to his usual attire. This time a long sleeved knit shirt with a collar, and his usual khakis for the weekend.

"Hey Draco, how are you feeling?" I tried to sound casual, but I know I sounded more hesitant than I wanted to.

"I'm okay Harry. Your house elf brought me something to drink this morning that took away my headache."

"Kreacher."

"Yes, that was him." His expressions looked as nervous as mine felt. "He's a good little person."

"Yes, I'm very lucky to have him around. Hermione was right, it really is amazing how much you get in return for a little kindness to other magical beings."

"Smart girl your Hermione."

Our conversation was positively banal, and that in itself was disconcerting. Draco's next question cemented that feeling.

"So Harry? Umm, what happened yesterday?"

I had been dreading that question.

"What do you remember?" I was going to make this as open-ended as I could.

"I know I had way too much to drink in a really short period of time."

"Yeah, sorry about that, I should have stopped you."

"It wasn't your fault, I should have better ways of coping I guess. I remember telling you about my mom."

"Yes, I'm really sorry about that too."

"You don't have to be sorry about everything Harry. I just want to know how I got back to my room yesterday."

"Kreacher took you. I didn't think I'd be able to get in past your portrait."

"Probably wouldn't have." By this time he had moved over to the bed, and was standing across it from me. He reached down to grab a handful of the comforter and made to start pulling it towards himself, and then he stopped. "I didn't do anything stupid last night did I?"

"Of course not Draco." Though when I said it I couldn't meet his eyes.

"I blathered on about my miserable lot in life for awhile didn't I?"

"You have every right to unburden yourself Draco," I swallowed, "I'm really glad you felt that we were close enough that you could trust me." I must have sounded terribly nervous.

"And you're sure I didn't do anything stupid?"

"I promise Draco, nothing you did was stupid." I don't know if the look in his eyes was relief, or sadness. I didn't know if he believed what I was saying, or how he had taken it, but I didn't want to stay in that void for too long. "Look, I'll finish up in here if you want to get the rest of the desk packed up?"

"Umm, yeah, sure, it'll go faster that way."

"Then we can get out of this place for good." I went back to the bedding, but watched him leave the bedroom. His shoulders were slumped, but I suppose that wasn't completely unusual for him anymore. I wondered if I should call him back to help me, but then I thought that he might just prefer being alone for a bit.

Okay, yes, I know, I'm an idiot.

I finished up the bedroom in silence, and moved the boxes out to the main room; levitating them with my wand. Draco had finished up the desk, and it looked as though we were pretty much done. I put a stupid little smile on my face for him because he looked so distraught though I had no idea what to say to make him feel better.

"You up to anything this afternoon Harry?"

"Ron asked me to go flying around the Quidditch Pitch with him." They had put off try-outs for a week because of the DADA challenge, but they were supposed to start up on Tuesday after classes.

Draco just nodded.

"Did you want to come along?" I offered, hesitantly. (Yes, I know, I already admitted I was an idiot.)

"No, that's okay, I have an Arthrimancy project I should do." Hermione had the same one; she'd mentioned it last evening.

"Are you sure?"

"Yeah, you should hang out more with your Gryffindor friends anyways." The way he said it was so resigned, he wouldn't meet my eyes, and I just knew then, or thought I did, that he remembered the kiss and was ashamed by it. I thought all he wanted right then was to be rid of me. I didn't know what to do, and so I did absolutely the wrong thing; told him I'd catch up with him at dinner, and I left. In my defense, my gut was working up a storm of biblical proportions at that point, but still I left.

I met up with my friends for lunch, let Minerva know that Draco and I were finished with Snape's rooms, got my broom, and spent the afternoon darting around the pitch. Once again it was a blissful sense of normalcy, which gave me a break from worrying about Draco, and Ginny and most everything else.

Pumped full of adrenalin, which obscured my common sense, I went down to dinner with my house, enjoyed the food and the laughter, and felt a part of Gryffindor again. At east until Professor Sinistra came walking down the row that separated our table from Ravenclaw, staring right at me.