Dream On

Dream On

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Chapter Two
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"How is he?" Draco heard Ron asked anxiously as Hermione walked out of Madame Pomfrey's office. The brunette only shook her head and sighed before she walked - no ran off back toward the Gryffindor Tower, or so Draco supposed. Ron followed closely at her heels, leaving Draco alone outside the office. Swallowing hard, Draco stepped forward and though the office doorway. From where stood, he could see Harry lying in a bed - white sheets covering his whole body up to the middle of his chest. He snorted and, after only one look at Harry, bolted from the room and down the hall in the opposite way Ron and Hermione had gone - back toward the Slytherin Common Room.

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It was unusually cold that night, even for mid December, and from outside the highly placed windows of the Slytherin Boy's Dorm small white flakes could be seen as the finished their decent to the earth. From where he laid, Draco could hardly see the snow in the moonlight through the window above Crabbe's bed. Normally, he'd already be asleep, but, obviously, Goyle had not blown his nose in a week and his horrid snoring kept Draco wide awake. Draco dearly wanted to throw a pillow at Goyle in hopes he'd roll over and stop snoring, but the blonde had only one pillow and needed that to sleep - not that he'd fall asleep this night.

More than Goyle's snoring, though, the terrible guilt that was growing in his chest was keeping him awake. Even the week's worth of trophy cleaning with Filtch and one hundred points from Slytherin couldn't cure the rapidly building pain. It was his fault, and no one else's, that Harry was unconscious - or worse - and half-dead, bleeding from his ears. Would he be able to hear when he woke up? Alak, would he ever wake up? The thought tormented Draco as he fought feelings he dared not to feel.

"I guess life's like this..." he whispered to himself as he, for what seemed to be the hundredth time, shut his eyes and tried to sleep.

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That morning, when Draco entered the Great Hall, he scanned the faces at the Gryffindor table, but did not see Harry there. With a sigh of disappointment - or of relief - Draco walked slowly toward the Slytherin table and took his usual seat between Crabbe and Goyle. He had decided the sleepless night before that he would apologize to Harry if he was at breakfast the next day. Had Harry been there, the apology would have been too embarrassing for Draco to bear. However, Draco should have known better. Even if Harry were well enough to eat, Madame Pomfrey wouldn't let him out of the Hospital Wing for at least a week, if not more. He became lost in though as he glared half-angrily, half-morosely at the vacant seat at the Gryffindor table.

"Draco?" he heard someone ask suddenly, snapping back to reality. He looked upward at the dirty-blonde haired young, pug-nosed woman standing behind him. Pansy Parkinson - the last person he wanted to see right now.

"What?" Draco asked as with a voice like ice and eyes like snow covered mountains.

"Your father will be proud of you for once now that you put Potter out of commission," she said, holding her nose high as if the triumph, if it was such, belonged to her.

"Who are you to tell me what my father thinks, or will think of me?" Draco snapped loudly at her. Pansy only jeered in response. "Stay away from me," Draco said as he grabbed a piece of toast and near-shoved Pansy out of his way as he made his way toward the nearest exit.

"Touchy..." Pansy said to herself before she sat in Draco's empty seat. "So how did you boys sleep last night?" she asked to the Slytherin males around her who answered only with blank, confused stares.