Complete Confusion

He woke with a groggy headache, he couldn’t really remember why his head hurt, he didn’t go drinking last night…and then it hit him like a ton of bricks, it had to have been the headache that he went to sleep with, sadly he woke with the same one he went to bed with, and the same thoughts he went to bed with. He tried to remember his dream, and was surprised when it came to him with very vivid colors.

He was lying in bed, his own bed his own house but the feeling was different, and he knew it was a dream because there was a peaceful feeling. When he was home…there was never any peace. He got up, not bothering to get dressed, so wearing only a pair of tight silkies he roamed his house. He was alone, so utterly alone it was peaceful and yet so…odd. He walked back into his room after a while of mindless roaming to find a semi-large form sleeping peacefully in his bed. He walked over, and getting into bed with the person flung open the blankets so they were both engulfed. The ruffled black hair moved slightly, and he could see the start of a smile form from under the hair. The scar stood out glaringly, and he licked a finger and traced it along it. Harry smiled at him and snuggled into him, kissing his forehead lightly.
“I missed you. Where’d you go?” He asked his voice husky.
“Just for a walk.” He said kissing him, his lips finding Harry’s and locking tightly, his entire body hungry for him, thirsty for him, his lips still locked tightly on his, he moved even closer, snuggling into Harry.

That’s where the dream started to get oddly weird, and while it felt good to dwell on it, he couldn’t yet bring himself to admit he was having…off thoughts about the boy who put his father away and ruined his family. Ok. So, maybe Mum was slightly better off, he no longer had to hear her muffled sobs echoing through the house when he was home…they were still there, but not as frequent, they were now just memories, like so many other things.
His mind traveled to other times with Harry, and he went into his own little world, thinking of the person he cared for, however forbidden it was.

Sitting in Snape’s classroom they were alone…just the two of them, and they had been told to sit beside each other so Snape could keep an eye on them both. Draco had fallen out of favor with Snape for the moment…a temporary thing. The bench in front of Snape’s desk was small, and they kept bumping elbows whenever they tried to write something down. He could hear Harry’s mind going, he could hear him worry about his friends and all the other goody-good things he did. He could also sense the attempt at coolness that Harry was trying to ooze out of his pores, but it wasn’t working. Not when he was trying it on a seasoned veteran like Draco Malfoy.
“What did you do to get that?” He asked looking over at Harry’s transfiguration homework. He was having a bugger of a time with it, and Harry seemed to be having an easy time of it. Harry looked at him as if he had been bitten by something slimy and rather poisonous. He didn’t know what to expect if he answered this question, but figured there was no real harm in answering.
“I just changed the wand movement.” He said hesitantly. He finished writing out his sentence and tried a half smile at Draco, and was surprised when he received one in return. He couldn’t help but going slightly red Harry was being nice in return… he liked the way this was going. Harry Potter was giving him warm, almost fuzzy feelings inside. For the next little while they sat there, sharing homework tips and helping each other, all old fights gone, at least from the foreground of their minds.

“I can’t help but thinking of him as a child.” He said aloud, hoping the room was still empty. It wasn’t, not at this hour he thought looking out the window, still lying in his warm bed. “I just can’t.” He added, what he didn’t say aloud was why he still thought of Harry as a child, but he knew it in his mind, and begrudgingly in his head. Harry always seemed so fragile to him. That memory was from the same year his Father was sent to Azkaban, because of the same person he was fondly thinking of.

It was also the same year he took his fathers place as head of the family, and his place as a Death Eater. A week after they took his father away, the Dark Lord himself called upon Draco to enter his services, they needed a person to replace his father, and he was told that since it was his father they needed to replace, he was the best choice. He was a dedicated Death Eater, and his fingertips gently brushed up against the mark that still ached sometimes. He lay in bed, thinking once more, sometimes things were harder to block out then others. The night the Dark Lord came to him was one of those things…

“This is your boy?” A dark figure hissed his mother who was down on her knees, her hand being held by a figure cloaked in long robes hiding any sense of shape or form. He towered above the people with him, in a half circle surrounding his Mother. Draco’s heart was in his mouth as he stood on the stairs, watching and listening as his Mum humbly told the Dark Lord all about her favorite, only son. He could hear the fear in her voice, and when the Dark Lord lifted her face to see her son standing there, the look of fear on his Mum’s face scared him to the bone. He let her stand up, and she motioned Draco to come to her. He ran to her, a scared little boy wanting his Mommy; he hugged her passionately, before kissing her cheek and standing up tall to the Dark Lord, placing himself squarely in between the Dark Lord and his Mum.
“Draco. You are being called to take your Father’s place.” Was all the Dark Lord said to him, holding out his hand to Draco. He took it and heard his Mum try to muffle the sob escaping her lips, so with one hand he took hers, the other still firmly held by the Dark Lord. He could feel fire starting to burn up his arm, and knew what was happening, he tried not to let the pain drive him to his knees, but it didn’t last and he sank to them slowly. He tried not to take his Mum with him, but she could barely stand herself, and fell with him. The Death Eaters around him and the Dark Lord all laughed, all but one woman standing off the circle slightly. There was an evil twinkle in her eyes as she watched the trio move, Draco was now on the verge of screaming, she was impressed, none of them had lasted that long until screams of pain burst forth from their own lips, and they were all a lot older then Draco.

The pain in his arm grew when he recalled that…particularly blissful memory. He rolled over in bed, maddening thoughts now screaming through his mind. He was now aware of movements from the other beds surrounding him, and he tossed some more, so now he was face down, his head once more pushed deep into his pillow, although this time he wasn’t screaming.