Disclaimer: I don't own anything. All of it belongs to their rightful owners.
A/N: I don't know how long this chapter'll look like but it's definitely longer than the last two chapters. Nothing very interesting is really happening, but basically everyone's noticing Draco's strange behavior… and then a little fluffy scene at the end. Anyways, glad to hear that a few of you like the story. Hope you enjoy this chapter! :) x
Summary: After the war, people thought Draco Malfoy was the same arrogant git he's always been. But really, he's broken, and awfully lovesick. 8th-Year.
"It's quite absurd, really." Draco Malfoy sighed, petting his black kitten. "At the beginning of this year, he didn't really like to talk to me, or look at me. He wasn't really mean to me, just sort of avoided me… I suppose it was his way of being nice in a way. What, with our past."
"Meow,"
"And now all of the sudden, he's always hanging out with me. I find it a bit concerning, really."
The sounds of late midnight groans, ruffling of sheets, and heads being hit on bed posts erupted from about the room. Neville Longbottom, who occupied the bed next to Draco's created a rather loud thumping sound.
"Neville?" the soft voice was answered with a groan. Upon hearing that soft sound, Draco's eyes were immediately wide open, and his ears were attentively listening. After more sounds of sheets moving about, and a curtain being pulled open, the voice was heard once again. "Neville, what happened?"
"Dunno, I was just sleeping, and then all of the sudden, I was awake… and on the floor." Draco adjusted in his bed, struggling to hear the very quiet whispers.
"Draco?" the blonde swore in his mind, and very quickly pulled his sheets up to his chin and closed his eyes pretending to be asleep. Harry helped Neville back up to his bed and then very cautiously tip-toed to Draco's bed. The brunette slid the curtains open slowly and bent down on his knees. He pushed the stay strands of blonde hair out of Draco's face and lightly tapped on his shoulder. "Draco, are you awake?"
The Slytherin let out a quiet, shaky breath, hoping that Harry would soon go away.
"Meow?" Dammit, you, the blonde thought as the small kitten crawled up from behind him, onto his hip, and over to Harry. "Mew," Severus cocked his head and debated whether or not to continue approaching this new person.
"Why hullo there," Harry gave a small smile and held out his hands, gesturing the little animal to come closer. Severus slowly gave into the Gryffindor's friendly smile and soft calming voice. "I hadn't known that Draco had a pet. I wouldn't have thought he'd have gotten one at all." Harry pulled the black kitten off from the bed and into his lap, stroking the fur lightly. "Oh well, I've been laying awake all night, I should try to get back to bed. Up you go," he said, landing Severus back on the bed.
"Good night, Draco." He placed a light, almost invisible kiss on the Slytherin's forehead, closed the curtains, and went back to his bed.
"Would you all just shut up?"
"Why don't you shut up Weasley?"
"Both of you just shut up."
"Guys, Draco's still sleeping."
"Well I'm trying to sleep to so shut up."
"Worst Saturday ever,"
"Would you all just stop complaining, please?" Draco called out, deciding to give up on trying to block out the shouts and annoying whining of his roommates.
"Just listen to him, honestly." Neville groaned pulling a pillow over his head.
"Sure, Dray-Dray," Blaise sat up and said with a voice as though he was talking to a little baby.
"Blaise," the blonde said dangerously. "I will fucking hit you with Snape's giant Potions encyclopedia if you don't shut your annoyingly loud mouth right now."
"Well," Harry announced, "I'm going to go in the shower. You all have fun acting like little 2 year olds." He said, grabbing jeans and a shirt from his dresser and heading off to the bathroom. Neville reluctantly got up from his bed and went in search of clothes as well. Blaise and Ron looked at each other, shrugged and got up as well, ready to start the day.
"C'mon Seamus," Ron said, throwing one of his maroon Weasley jumpers at the Irish boy. While everyone was up and getting ready, Draco was still in bed, tired as shit, and just not having a very good time at the moment.
"Draco, you alright?" a brunette Gryffindor emerged from the bathroom with his loose jeans riding low on his hips, a plain green t-shirt hanging around his neck, and a very, very wet towel being dragged over his messy hair.
"Y'know, Harry, it's pretty useless trying to dry your hair with that towel. It's absolutely drenched. You're basically just giving yourself a second shower." Harry simply chuckled and tossed the towel aside, struggling to get the rest of his shirt on while he walked over to Draco's bed.
"You ok?"
"Yeah," the blonde answered quietly, holding his pillow close. Harry laughed softly and ruffled Draco's hair.
"C'mon, you're going to miss breakfast."
"Don' care," he dragged out the last word and stuffed his face in the pile of pillows he had on his bed. Harry sighed, patted Draco on the shoulder, and told him he'd bring the Slytherin some food when they got back.
"He's just so out of everything, it is a bit concerning." Harry explained to the three 8th year girls while the rest of the boys trailed behind, talking about Quidditch as they made their ways to the Great Hall. "He's been looking depressed, I don't think he's been sleeping, and it's just… awful."
"That isn't like Draco, how long has this been going on?" Hannah asked, swapping spots with Hermione in order to get closer to Harry so that she'd be able to hear him over the loud noise that came out from the Great Hall.
"I'm really not sure, but I've started noticing it about two days ago." Harry sighed. "Have you noticed anything strange about Draco, Pansy?" the Slytherin merely shook her head and looked away.
"Maybe we should talk to a professor." Hermione suggested while she silently gestured Pansy and Hannah to join them at the Gryffindor table for the morning.
"Well, who would we ask? Slughorn, so that the old man would give Malfoy a vial of who-knows-what? He may be a professor, I really don't like to mean about this kind of stuff, but he's so old that he could accidently give Malfoy poison or something." Hannah pointed out, her voice quiet and hard to hear over the morning chatter. The Hufflepuff sat inbetween Pansy and Hermione, shyly picking at a few pancakes.
"Hey, forget about us?" Ron asked, just sitting down at the table with the rest of the 8th years following.
"Have you guys noticed Draco? He's been acting really strange for the past few days." Blaise said, pouring maple syrup over his waffles.
"That's actually what we were just talking about." Hermione said, turning over to see Ron stuffing French toast in his face. "You are absolutely disgusting Ronald,"
"Whaa-" the ginger cocked his head in confusing, mouth half opened. Everyone looked away, disgusted by the unpleasant sight of half chewed and digested food falling out of Ron Weasley's mouth. Harry filled his plate with a few pancakes, chocolate chips, and bacon strips. He announced that he was going to bring some breakfast back to Draco in the dorm. After taking a last sip of his coffee, he sighed, got up, and told everyone he'd see them later so that they could all hang out in Hogsmeade.
"Make sure he eats all of it, he's as skinny as a wand!" Pansy called out.
"Bloody hell," Ron groaned. "I got the most disturbing image in my mind with that sentence." Harry merely chuckled, rolled his eyes at his immature friends, and went back to the 8th year dorms.
"Draco?" the Gryffindor's call was then answered with a soft, incoherent mumble from the blonde's bed. Harry walked over, placing the plate on the nightstand and pulling the bed curtains open. The Slytherin Prince was then seen, curled up in a small ball, cuddling a silver, silk blanket, and murmuring gibberish under his breath.
"H-H-Haaarr—" Draco's already closed eyes shut even tighter and curled his body even closer together. His face looked frustrated, and he rolled his head side to side with a pout slowly forming on his lips. "Harrrryyy—" he clenched his eyes shut once again, with small tears falling from the corners.
"Draco," the raven-haired boy slightly shook the Slytherin's shoulder, trying to wake him up. Suddenly, out of nowhere, the blonde then woke up, eyes sprouting open, and a large wail coming forth from his mouth. He babbled nonsense as he sobbed and kicked around in his bed.
"Shh," Harry climbed up on the bed, picking Draco up into his lap and rocking the crying boy, whispering soft, soothing word in his ears. The blonde clawed at Harry's green shirt, mumbling phrases that the Gryffindor could barely hear.
"Bad birdie," and "Scared," and "Harry," were of the few words that Harry pulled out from Draco's gibberish. The blonde wiped his nose with his blanket and sniffed, burying his wet face in Harry's neck.
"What happened? Did you have a bad dream?" Harry attempted to make conversation with the boy in his lap as the cries died down.
"Mhm," Draco's voice was a bit higher than usual, and much more softer than you could imagine it'd ever be. He once again started to babble off nonsense, about the dream, Harry assumed. "And then a big birdie came and blew fire and then you fell and then the birdie hit me and it was a big bad birdie!" The raven-haired had never seen Draco like this before. Sure, he'd seen him less… masked, but never completely broken down. It was absolutely awful.
"It's ok," Harry stroked the platinum blonde hair, and took a piece of bacon from the plate that sat on the nightstand, and urged Draco to eat the strip of meat. "C'mon, eat it for me? Please? It's ok Draco, there's no bad birdie – bird. Bird. I just need you to eat, you haven't eaten anything yet. Alright?" The Gryffindor continued to stroke through Draco's hair and feed him small bits of bacon and chunks of pancakes. This was going to be a long weekend.