dear draco,

nine

We are kissing.

It's bright outside, and we are lying on the grass; our bodies intertwined beneath the late January sun. The sun shines through his hair, illuminating his intense gaze. I am blushing, but staring curiously back at him nonetheless - his striking features never fail to amaze me. He tucks a strand of hair behind my ear, saying, "You're so beautiful."

His grey eyes look more stunning than ever as I stare into them, an abyss of silver, shades upon shades of pure metallic, almost unreal -

-and then I wake up, hot and sweaty, staring not at the eyes of Draco Malfoy but at the crimson drapes of my four poster bed.

What the hell?

Did I just have a dream about Draco Malfoy? And not just any dream – we had been kissing and... This isn't happening. No. I shake myself and stand up out of my bed, giving it an accusatory glare as I do so. No, I refuse to acknowledge it. The dream doesn't mean anything, it can't... But then again, people say that your dreams are just really your subconscious speaking and -

"You okay, Isobel?" says a voice behind me, and I jump. Hermione is standing at the corner of her bed, looking at me weirdly, like she knows exactly what is going on.

"Bad dream," I mumble, straightening my covers to avoid her piercing gaze. I look up at her guiltily, on the brink of confessing. But she just gives me a little smile, and moves on to change.

It's weird that I should dream about Draco, as he has been avoiding me for a while now. He hasn't talked to me or even acknowledged me whatsoever for the past week, pardoning the occasional awkward eye contact. He seems sulky, which is strange, but I prefer it this way – there had been some kind of – something - developing between the two of us, and it had to be stopped.

-

As I walk to my first class, I furrow my eyebrows and try to forget about it. But it's hard, and I have to restrain very hard from hitting myself – Draco Malfoy? Really? Why couldn't I have chosen someone sensible to dream about, like Harry or Ron?

Just then, the two pop up beside me. Immediately, I feel a huge sense of relief; if there is anyone to cheer me up, it's these two. I give them a tired smile. "Hey."

Harry gives me a mischievous grin. "Hi, Isobel. You happy to see Ron?"

I stare back blankly. "Uh, sure. Hi, Ron." But Ron's eyes are on the stone floor, determinedly avoiding mine.

"Go on, Ron," Harry teases. "You are her boyfriend after all."

"Oh!" I flush, understanding the situation all too quickly. "Ron, I - Sorry about that. Did Malfoy say something to you?"

Ron looks up, his face bright red. "Yeah, he mentioned something about it yesterday."

I smile sheepishly. "I'm so sorry. It just slipped out."

"If you wanted Ron to be your boyfriend," continues Harry, slinging an arm around my shoulders as we walk, "there were better ways to go about it, Isobel. I would happily have-"

I interrupt him by awkwardly shrugging off his arm. "No, no," I say, with a weak giggle. "Malfoy was annoying me, and I was just saying it to, uh-" I pause. I'm not sure I want to tell them what was really going on.

Harry looks at me seriously. "Isobel, if he's bothering you, you just tell us-"

"I know!" I say quickly. "Don't worry, I can handle him."

"Handle who?" says a voice very close to my ear, making me jump.

Harry and Ron round on Draco immediately, scowling. "Leave her alone," says Harry, warningly. People swarm around us, trying to get to class. I shoot Harry a grateful smile, but my heartbeat picks up nonetheless.