Trials of Affliction and Light Sleeping

A/N: This chapter is rather short. 
Sorry.  It just worked better when
separated from chapter 8 (which is longer!).

 

 

Chapter 7

 

The next few days went by without much
complication.  It wasn’t perfect, but at
least Malfoy hadn't forced Hermione to jump him again.  But Hermione noted that Malfoy’s
supersensitive smell was becoming increasingly bothersome.  Several times a day she would see his head
suddenly snap up while having this strange awareness in his eyes.  That was Hermione’s cue to drag him out of
there, for Harry was coming near.  She
had also been forced to distract several people so they would not approach
Malfoy and consequentially would be influenced by his seduction charms.  Luckily not many did.  The ones who had already been subjected to
Malfoy’s seduction powers were safely avoiding him, since they probably were as
confused by their own emotions as Harry was. 

Hermione did have a very hard time in
trying to find different subjects to change conversations with.  Whenever people started asking her on why
exactly she had jumped Malfoy in the middle of the Great Hall, she had to
find a way to draw them away from the topic.

People were probably thinking that she
wanted to become a meteorologist, because whenever they saw her Hermione would
promptly redirect the conversation towards the weather. 

And it was also becoming rather clear that
Malfoy was truly starting to suffer through this whole thing.

His body was overheated.

         Literally.

         He was burning up as
if it was a heat wave, which it really was not. 
It was still rather chilly for May and this meant something when a
person who lived in England
made that statement.  While everyone was
wearing jumpers and woollen socks, Malfoy was strutting about in light T-shirts
and still was complaining that it was too hot.

         Which
he did, to Hermione’s annoyance.

         A
lot.

         When exactly had
Malfoy transformed into a chatterbox?  If
it had not been for his good looks Hermione reckoned that she would not be able
to sit this out.  They were a nice
distraction when he was ranting again and she did not care enough to
listen.  Moreover, the T-shirts that
tightly hugged Malfoy’s muscular upper body were a vast improvement to the
vests and pullovers.  He also had this
constant sweaty sheen covering his pale flesh and had a small blush covering
his cheeks.  Hermione had never seen his
skin showing any form of colour before, so she couldn’t help but openly gaze at
him from time to time.  He would actually
look adorable if it was not for the predatorily lusty look that seemed to be
permanently lodged into his eyes.  His
facial expression was still as cold and stoical as ever, but his stormy grey
eyes told a different tale.

           Like when someone’s stomach would start to
growl when it needed nourishment, Malfoy’s body needed his mate and uttered its
annoyance.  Not in growling, but in sleep
deprivation.  For the past couple of
nights Malfoy had been suffering from insomnia and got quite restless during
the nights.  During the days, he was also
getting increasingly touchy due to sleep deprivation.

         Hermione
had to figure out a way to get him to sleep.

         The sooner the better, because Malfoy
was not very thoughtful when it came to being quiet so other people could
sleep.  Hermione had been forced to
confiscate that annoying tennis ball of his, which he insisted on bouncing up
against the wall with a loud ‘thud’ for hours on end!

         Why would he do that?  Why?

         Boys!

Hermione
actually had an idea, but it was quite risky and she would need Harry’s help
with its execution.  When she had first
presented her idea to Harry, he had not been for it.  But Hermione then pushed, pushed, pushed... begged, pleaded, and nagged.

         And got her way.

*

         Draco was lying in his bed, desperately
trying to sleep.  He knew it was useless,
but he was so tired that he just couldn’t help but to try and let his mind
drift off.  He just couldn’t help but
think about what his father would say about all this.  His son was not only actively pursuing a
sexual relation with a boy, but with The-Boy-Who-Lived.  Draco reckoned that this would be any Death
Eater’s worst nightmare. 

Draco had always worshipped his father and had wanted to be like him
when he grew up, to be feared and respected. 
Since he was a small boy Draco had actively tried to follow his father’s
example and had consequentially adopted his belief system.  When Lucius had been sent to prison, Draco
fell into a preverbal black hole.  He had
always regarded his father as infallible. 
Voldemort had been proven fallible, but his father hadn’t.  He had always been able to get away with
anything. 

With Lucius gone to prison, that theory had been shattered and Draco had
lost the example of what he wanted to be later in life.  Suddenly he had to figure out for himself who
he wanted to be and what he believed in. 
He had bordered on suffering from an actual depression when the thought
came to him that he might want different things than he had always thought he
wanted.  He wasn’t the miniature version
of his father, something most people and even he himself had believed.  Being his own person had been a very scary
thing for Draco, yet he doubted that anyone noticed it.  He never actively made any changes.  He just stopped talking about things he felt
different about.  Not that he minded if
anyone knew, but he just didn’t care for sharing his inner turmoil with
anyone.  Draco had quickly concluded that
he didn’t give a shit about the war.  He
wasn’t against Voldemort, he just wasn’t for him.  And neither was he suddenly rooting for Potty
and Dumbledore. 

He just couldn’t give a rats ass.  

He didn’t give a rats ass about a lot of
things. 

Turns out Draco didn’t have all that many outspoken opinions as he
thought he had. 

He even used the term ‘Mudblood’ with far less contempt in his voice
than it used to possess.  And having been
forced to spend this much time with Granger, who turned out not to be all
that bad, had him even contemplating on dropping the term all
together.  These days Draco’s reality wasn’t
as black and white as it used to be, it was a nice stonewash colour of
grey. 

A knock on his bedroom door caught Draco’s attention and he slightly
turned his head to see what Granger wanted. 
He was more than surprised to see that it wasn’t Granger who was coming
to pester him about being too noisy (which for once he wasn’t), but that it was in fact the very person she had been
trying to keep him away from for the past two weeks.

 

         “Potter?”  Draco frowned as he caught sight of the
Gryffindor standing in the doorway of his bedroom.  Neither Draco nor Hermione had ever invited
anyone into their private quarters, so it was more than unusual to have Potter
standing in Draco’s bedroom.  Especially since it was Potter.

         “Hermione has let me in,” Harry said as
he approached Draco’s bed.

         “What are you doing?”  Draco asked worriedly, vividly remembering
what had happened last time they had been alone together.

Now there also was a bed involved.

A bed where Potter had now sat himself down
upon.

A bed that Draco currently held occupied.

“I’m being a pushover,” Harry casually stated as he flopped his shoes
off.  “Now lay
on your side with your back towards me and shut up.”

“Don’t order me what to do!” 
Draco spat.  Who did he think he
was, barging into his bedroom and starting to give him orders?  If Potter was thinking that he could treat
him like one of his groupies just because he had had the privilege to feel the
inside of Draco’s mouth, he had another thing coming. 

“Do you want to get some sleep?” 
Harry asked pointedly as he turned his head to glare at Draco.  “Then do as I said.”

Sleep?  Sleep!  Precious sleep!  Oh... no!  No! 
No!  No!  He wasn’t going to let Potter just order him
around like that, even if it were give him a bit of shuteye.  Not to mention how?  How can Potty-boy possibly know more about
his problems than...?

“Oi!” he yelped as Potter suddenly laid himself down next to him and
pushed Draco over to his side.

Draco wanted to struggle back.

He really did.

But then Potter spooned up behind him, wrapped his arms around Draco’s
waist and it felt so damn good!

It felt so good that Draco could just drool all over his pillow like a
baby that was falling asleep in it’s mother’s arms.

Which he did.

The drooling not excluded.

***********

End of
chapter 7