Fate\'s Victim

It was several days later before Draco forced himself to go out in public. Several days which had left Harry engulfed in the gray mist.



Draco made his way to see Madam Pomfrey before breakfast. He knew Dumbledore would want to know about how his investment was coming along. Better to do it willingly, then to be dragged kicking and screaming to it and be punished afterward. Draco knew the game. He could play it well.



The Medi-Witch again took on the stony look she had had before, and again, Draco wondered whether she had been Imperioused. Surely she couldn’t fall from kind and caring to cold and harsh so quickly, could she? She never had before. Yes, she had been stern, but that wasn’t the same as this.



She completed her spells, handed him a potion to drink, and told him to go to class. He did as she told him to, and left.



-xXx-



Potions was dreadfully boring for most of the students. Harry Potter would normally have been in full agreement with that. But now, for the first time in about three days, he felt his magic spark - though his head still swam in the gray sparkling mist. If anything, the spark of magic had intensified the sparkle of the mist. He looked around the room, hoping to see something new that could have caused the spark of magic.



He was just about to go back to doodling on his notes, having found nothing to explain it, when the door opened, and Draco Malfoy tried to slip in unnoticed. Fate was not so kind to the young blond man, however.



“Twenty points from Slytherin for every day that you’ve avoided my class, Mister Malfoy.” The Potions Master droned, before launching back into a very boring lecture about the uses of illegal magical creature parts as potion ingredients. Draco nodded and took his seat, ignoring the glares of the Slytherin students who realized he had just lost them sixty points. He opened his notes, grabbed a quill, and tried to look interested for a moment, but ended up crossing his arms before him like a pillow and falling into a fast sleep.



To say Harry was startled was an understatement. Malfoy never slept in Potions class. That was the only class he seemed to put his full attention towards. So what had caused this?



He was so busy thinking about what had caused the change in his rival, that he didn’t notice the slight gray sparkle the blond was exuding.



-xXx-



Draco went about his life as if it were normal. He attended his classes, even if he slept through most of them. He ate his meals in silence, despite the almost constant badgering of Pansy. She cared about him; which was more then Draco could say for the other Slytherins. They were distancing themselves from him. And he couldn’t blame them. They weren’t all stupid. Some of them could sense weakness, and see change coming. They didn’t know yet how it would happen, but the Ice Prince was losing his crown.



He continued to visit Madam Pomfrey, falling into a regular routine where he almost became numb to Pomfrey’s dull eyes moving over him. He knew following a routine as he now did was dangerous, but he had no reason not to. Perhaps if one of the other students managed to knock him off the staircase, or hit him just so, he would die before he ever had to worry about giving birth to the bastard child of Harry Potter.



He moved through life quietly for about four months, ignoring anyone who didn’t put themselves in his path and force him to speak to them. His parents were waiting for a letter from him, saying that he was finally willing to take the Dark Mark. It was coming to a time now, though, that they must realize that no such letter would be forthcoming.



Snape, his Godfather, had been ignoring him too. Draco couldn’t understand that one fully. His only clue was that Snape had found out that Draco had gone to Dumbledore for help before coming to the man sworn to protect him. It was a betrayal, but what could Snape do for him? Draco wouldn’t jeopardize his Mentor’s job and life to save his own.



He slipped into his room again, dropped his robe on the floor, crawled onto the bed and wrapping himself in the soft green blanket he had loved since he was young. He ignored the fact that he was fully clothed, and slept.



-xXx-



Harry had begun to accept that he might always be plagued with the soft gray mist that followed him from his dreams to the real world. He also began to accept that his dreams would continue to be filled with feelings of pain, rejection, defilement, and strangely enough, longing.



His friends were defiantly worried, but he would not willingly go see the Medi-Witch. He knew the feelings against her were not his own, but they were beyond convincing. He wouldn’t go to Dumbledore about it either, since the feelings of the other person who seemed to be sharing experiences and emotions with him were defiantly wary of the Old Hogwarts Headmaster too.



He could go to Snape maybe…Snape felt safer to the gray mist in his head than anyone else. But would Snape help Harry Potter? After what had happened earlier, he wasn’t sure…no, he was sure. Snape wouldn’t help him unless Harry knew exactly who he was experiencing the memories of. And only if that person desperately needed help.



He decided to skip his nightly walk, feeling both exhausted and frustrated. Every other walk he took had led him to the same portrait of the red snake, and he knew he wasn’t getting anywhere going there again and again as he had been.



He changed his clothing, got onto the bed, placed his glasses on the bedside table and pulled the curtains. As he maneuvered the covers over himself, he wondered if there was a way to remember the dreams that left odd feelings in him when he woke up. Or maybe he could use the dreams to find out who the intruder into his mind was. He could always ask Hermione about spells to remember dreams. She wouldn’t be the slightest bit suspicious, he thought.



-xXx-



Draco was in bed. He had managed to dress in his silk nightclothes this time, but instead of falling right to sleep, he lay there thinking.



His dreams had been very informative lately. And he suddenly realized he was very, very screwed.