Author's Note:

I was visiting some relatives this past week, and I don't get Internet at their house. I would've told all of you, but we decided when we would leave the day beforehand and this chapter wasn't done yet. I spent a fair amount of time writing while I was there, though, but I had a different vision for this chapter than what it is now, and that version was going to involve details from Order of the Phoenix. I forgot to bring my copy of Order of the Phoenix with me, and I hadn't changed my mind about this chapter yet, so I didn't work on this chapter while I was away. Feel free to be mad at me for that. I did get three chapters of this story done, but they won't appear for a while. (If any of you are waiting for an update on Innocent, which is the other story I'm writing and posting here, I got about half of the next chapter done and I finally decided on a house for Harry.)

I also apologize for how short this chapter is, but I had to end it where I did. Otherwise things would get confusing with when I plan to have the next chapter begin.

Chapter 12

*October 1995*

Harry and Ron told Hermione good night and headed up to the fifth-years' dorm. They got ready for bed, told each other good night, and pulled the curtains around their four-posters closed. Harry laid in bed thinking for a while. Padfoot had sent him a letter yesterday; while it hadn't said much, it had told Harry that his godfather was still alive and hadn't been caught by anyone. Buckbeak was still doing well, and Moony had been visiting his fellow marauder. Hopefully Harry would be able to see both of them over the winter holidays.

It had been over a month, but Harry still wasn't used to the idea that the blood in him wasn't entirely human. As far as Harry could tell, nothing was different about himself, and while he hoped things stayed like that, a part of him wished something would happen to prove that he wasn't entirely human, if only so he wouldn't worry about it.

Harry fell into a restless sleep after half an hour of listening to his own thoughts. He hadn't been sleeping well since Voldemort's return, constantly worrying since he was Voldemort's number one target. Nightmares plagued him of Voldemort's return in the graveyard and Cedric's death. While he had liked Cho at one time, he knew he would never like her again; the memories he relived when he saw her were too strongly attached to that horrific night.

This was the first night that his constant dream changed, though. Now he would have dreams of walking down a long hallway lined with doors, desperately hoping to reach the end, although he never knew why.

Draco was sitting in the Slytherin common room before the fireplace, gazing into the flames. Everyone else had gone to bed, and he liked the common room that way; it was silent. He could sit and think about his life, calculating the best way to do things, and he did this nearly every night, often staying awake into the early hours of the morning.

Earlier today he had been reminded of his predicament with Pansy. She'd thrown a fit at the dinner table when he'd refused to hold her hand. It wasn't his fault he didn't like her and that he would be forced to marry her; well, it was probably his fault that he didn't like her, but she was obnoxious and nosy. With what he had going on around him, he didn't want anyone pushing their way into his business. He needed to make a plan.

The flames crackled, reflecting in Draco's eyes as he sat in contemplation. He'd already looked over a copy of the marriage contract, and both sides had made sure there weren't any loopholes. The only way he could get out of it was if he was unable to marry or produce an heir. Marrying someone else first or getting someone else pregnant didn't count. He didn't hate the girl enough to take his own life, and he would never consider pursuing the other option.

Pansy wouldn't constantly push into his business if he actually gave her what she wanted and tried to like her, would she? Draco sighed. He'd have to try it; if they were going to be married he'd have to find something attractive about her anyway. If it got her to stop clinging to him constantly then it was all the better.

Draco shook his head and stood. He'd have to try it tomorrow and hope for the best. He wouldn't do anything too drastic; he was a Malfoy, and he had standards to uphold. Perhaps they could start with short conversations in the hallway or something. Yes, that would do for now. He would establish some sort of physical contact with her in two weeks or so. Holding hands ought to be a good way to start with that. After all, he still didn't like the girl.

With these plans in mind, Draco headed down the hallway that would take him to his room, realizing he would probably end up lying in bed thinking about his other predicaments for the rest of the night.