A Dream ➪ Drarry ✔︎

✍︎︎8✍︎︎

"Draco, darling!"

It was 10pm at night, just after Harry and Draco's study session  - and panic attack - when Draco was rudely interrupted by his best friend, Pansy. He was in the middle of dressing when she burst into his private room.

"What now?" He groaned, running his fingers through his damp hair, as he had just had a shower.

"Dray, you're really trying make me straight, aren't you?" Pansy smirked, dragging her eyes down his toned torso.

He rolled his eyes playfully before laughing sarcastically. He quickly pulled a hoodie on and sat on his bed. Pansy scoffed in return and flopped on his bed.

"So I was thinking," She paused, "we need to throw a party."

Draco smiled, "That's not a bad idea, Pans. And of course, you only through the best ones."

Cockily, she smiled and said, "Thank you, dear sir."

"Truly, it's a good idea. I could get Theo to sneak in firewhiskey and some spiked butterbeer... are we inviting the other houses?" He asked curiously.

"Oh, I don't know... I bet you just really want to see Potter dressed up," she smirked and Draco his her with a pillow, laughing.

"Hey, you dick!"

"It's not like you don't have a massive crush on Granger," he huffed back, slightly blushing.

"I do not!" She shouted, blush peaking through her small amount of make up.

"I think we should," Draco said, quietly, "Plus, me and Potter have become a sort of friends."

"No way!" She smiled.

"We shook hands, that was it."

"Dragon, you flirt!" She laughed, over exaggerating.

"Pansy, we shook hands not fucking kissed!"

"But I bet you really wanted to."

"PANSY!"

-

Harry sighed, as he tiredly limped over to his bed. He rubbed his eyes and flopped back onto the soft mattress, still dressed in his uniform. He was still slightly shaken due to the attack but he was mostly tired.

"You okay, Harry?" Dean asked, sitting gently on the side of his own bed. He scratched the top of his head before turning back to Harry.

"How did you know? Th-that you..." Harry sat up and turned to the boy, blushing slightly from embarrassment. Was it really that difficult to ask a friend?

"liked guys?" Dean smiled when Harry nodded, "Well, I always knew deep down. I always looked at men differently. When I saw the quidditch team photos in the paper, I always looked at them longer then I did with the women on the front page of Witch Weekly. When Seamus and I became closer during the war, I think I realised I loved him... I also realised I had never loved a woman the way I love him. Don't get me wrong, I loved Ginny but it never felt...right, I guess?"

Harry smiled at the way Dean looked when he talked about Seamus, how he wished for that kind of love.

"Thanks, I'm just- I'm just confused at the moment..." Harry sighed, dragging his hand over his face.

"It's okay to be confused. I was for a while but you'll find your way, single or not," Dean smiled. Harry smiled back before walked to the bathroom to change.

He closed the door and groaned slightly, 'maybe I do like Draco...' Harry's face faulted and suddenly he had tears in his eyes. 'No no no! I hate him...' He sobbed quietly before furiously wiping away the tears that fell. He sniffed and tried to look normal.

'Where's my drawing pad? That always calms me,' he left his bed and walked out of the bathroom and to his school bag. Digging through the 'crap' that was in it, the boy soon realised it was not there. Harry began to slightly panic.

"Where is it?" He muttered to himself. He checked his robes, his trousers, his trunk, every hoodie he owns but no avail. He even looked under his bed but only found a small spider he screamed at.

"Shit," he said quite loudly. Luckily no one was in the room with him so he could have a good look around the room.

After half an hour searching, he found nothing. Harry's anxiety rose rapidly at the thought of someone snooping in it or mocking his artwork.

He took a few deep breaths, which calmed him but only slightly. Harry decided to change into his pyjamas - which was really just a large t-shirt and grey joggers - and go to bed since it was already quite late. He stayed up reading some random book he stole off Hermione when he realised the other boys had joined him inside the room.

He closed the book and placed it gently on the table beside him, placing his glasses on top, and quickly fell into a deep slumber.

-

Draco sat peacefully on the floor near the fire of the common room, writing an essay for some dumb class. He sighed and set his quill in the ink pot before rubbing his eyes.

After pulling his hands away, he turned to the gleaming fire and frowned. He felt so lonely at times. Even when he was surrounded by friends, he felt he was screaming in a crowded room but everyone in it was deaf. He was alone for a lot of his childhood; as an only child in a pureblood family, he mainly had books to keep him occupied. His parents usually travelled to deal with their many businesses across Europe and his parents weren't overly affectionate but that did love him.

He looked around the room in which he sat. To him it was so different to the Slytherin common room. This room was more comfy and warm while the other was cold and dark.

In the room, there was fluffy pillows, soft sofas, colourful tapestries and carpets, beautiful decor and an amazing fireplace. The Slytherin common room was dark and intimidating. In that room, there was leather sofas, which were incredibly uncomfortable, leather bound books for every subject, hardwood flooring and terrifying gargoyle statues.

Even though the room would be dull and scary to any normal person, to Draco and many other Slytherins, it was home. It was a place where they could rant about their home lives; good or bad. Slytherins were always seen as awful and self-centred tossers but in all truth they were misunderstood children who were taught to be grown ups and treat the lower-class as if they were vermin. The Slytherins were loyal to each other and any one they grew close to because they understood each other and they couldn't let other houses find out.

Draco was, sadly, one those misunderstood children. His father convinced him 'mudbloods' were not equal to himself and others of his superiority and he were to treat them accordingly. Draco had convinced himself he was that type of person; arrogant, selfish and pretentious - much like his father.

He knew deep down who he truly was - And that he fit into the Slytherin accord perfectly; he was determined and ambitious, not to mention he was a great leader. Especially when he was captain of the Slytherin Quidditch team in 5th year (they finally won against Gryffindor).

He smiled sadly and turned back to fire. He had hood memories but unfortunately they were out-weighed by the bad. Draco looked down to the essay on the carpeted floor. He sighed once more, folding it carefully. He carefully picked up the ink and quill and left it on the fireplace. It was late and he was tired.

He looked at the fire once more before putting it out with a small incantation of 'aquamenti.' The common room plunged into darkness so Draco muttered 'lumos.'

He held out his wand and made his way to his dorm room. Once he had arrived, the clock on the wall read 02:35. He realised how long he had stayed up.

Carefully, he placed his essay on his desk and made his way to the queen sized bed. He sat down and rubbed his tired eyes. As he sighed, he saw the small drawing book he had picked up yesterday.

He turned it over and saw the initials H.J.P inscribed into its leather. 'So it must be Potter's, ' Draco smiled softly and put down the book before getting under the covers and falling into the darkness of sleep.