𝐒𝐀𝐍𝐊𝐓𝐀 𝐋𝐔𝐂𝐈𝐀

Chapter 14

"Sleep well?" Corner asked bitterly when Draco woke up the next day, surprising him with being there at all when he woke up. "Because I didn't," Corner snapped without waiting for an answer and stormed out.

"What was all that about?" he turned to ask Theo, who was just getting out of bed.

"You don't remember?"

"Remember what exactly?"

"You-" Theo hesitated, something that was unusual since he typically was so straight forward, "You woke both of us up, screaming like someone under Crucio, and it was almost impossible to make you stop." Draco had just then turned his head, to find is bed lamp turned on.

"You turned on the light," he said tonelessly.

"Yes, or Corner did, I was busy trying to wake you up."

"There's probably some sarcastic joke in here somewhere, but I can't seem to find it."

"You're still tired?" Theo asked surprised.

"You wouldn't believe how much."

They said nothing more as they got ready for breakfast and waited for Potter to knock on the door. He came, in his usual manner, just when Draco had started to stare out of the window, looking down at the newly fallen snow that covered all Hagrid's big footsteps, and students snow angels and snowball fight fields. But that didn't matter so much, because Hagrid would make new footsteps this very same day, and students would go out and play and run around in the snow throwing snowballs at each other and fall to the ground and make new angels.

It reminded him of his view from his window at the Malfoy Manor, and he hated it. So why did he stand in front of the window, every day, looking out at the winterland before him, aching for someone or something to catch his attention and make him truly look away.

Theo had stopped trying long ago, and he only ever did try because he wanted breakfast. So it was Potter who made Draco turn around nowadays. Even though it had been less than a week, Draco was still always waiting for Potter to knock on the door. He would act like he didn't notice that Potter was now there, stubbornly staring through the window until Potter would try to make himself acknowledged, or when Theo in his sometimes grumpy morning moods made Draco turn around.

He did not like that he did this, waited for someone to tear him away from the window, and liked even less that that someone was rapidly becoming "Potter". They weren't even on first name basis, and yet Potter obstinately was becoming far too important to Draco for his own liking.

He heard Potter's soft knock on the door, and how it opened and he could see so clearly in his mind how Potter poked his head inside, not wanting to step into the dorm.

"Everyone ready?" he asked and Draco finally turned around to take the bag that Theo was holding out for him.

Whatever anger or agony he had built up that morning, looking outside the window, or from knowing that even though he had slept the whole night but was still as tired as he had been when he went to bed, melted away when he meet Potter's intensely green eyes.

All of a sudden it didn't matter if he hated the snow that fell, hated how the view reminded him of his long lost Christmases, hated that he felt compelled to look out that window every bloody day, because Potter would still be there every day, to make him turn around and look away.

Harry was still trying to wrap his head around everything that was happening. Neville was crushing on Parkinson. And he could not for the likes of him figure out what Malfoy meant by "play for another team". Was he or was he not in a relationship with Pansy Parkinson?

He was sitting by the Gryffindor table for breakfast, and even though Malfoy was sitting next to him he just couldn't turn his head and ask him somehow. It felt like confirming that he was absolutely clueless about the matter.

He turned his head anyway, just to make sure that Malfoy was okay surrounded by Gryffindors of course, and found the blond dosing off by the table.

"Didn't sleep well?" he asked before he knew it.

"Believe it or not, but I slept the whole night through, and I feel just as tired as I was yesterday."

"Then maybe you should skip class and go sleep in the common room again, eh Draco?" someone said, making the two boys look up to find Parkinson right in front of them. "Didn't think I would leave you with all these Gryffindors, did you?" she said and slid down next to Neville, Harry noted, who turned scarlet.

"I didn't think that, actually. You always seem to be by my side, so I just assumed you would follow as always."

"What a spoiled brat you are, Draco," Pansy said loftily.

Ron choked on his pumpkin juice at that Harry couldn't help but laugh at him.

"Looks like I'm not as tired as Weasley though, he can't even drink properly." Malfoy joked, maybe meant for Parkinson's laughter, but Harry found it funny all the same.

"Ha ha, yes laugh at the ginger, I'll soon be all your boss." Ron said and then started laughing himself.

"In your dreams, Weasley." Malfoy smirked.

It was later in class that Harry finally got an answer to his question.

He had asked Ron, who was sitting next to him in Herbology, but he had turned out to be as dumbfounded as Harry.

"What do you mean, like a Quidditch-team or something?" Harry had asked about the phrase without mentioning that it was Malfoy who had said it.

"Honestly, you two?" Hermione had hissed beside Ron, "Whoever told you that, Harry, means that he or she is probably gay."

Harry had dropped his shovel, making dirt and mud splatter at Neville and Dean who were standing across from him.

"Watch it, Harry!" Dean exclaimed, rubbing mud off his face, but Harry's mind was somewhere else.

Draco Malfoy had told him last night that he fancied blokes. Like as in boys.

"Are you okay mate?" Ron's concerned voice asked and he felt Ron's hand on his shoulder.

"Yeah, I'm just –" he broke off, not knowing what he really was.

"Who said that to you, Harry?" Hermione asked.

"Oh, no, I read it in a book," he lied, and by the looks of it, Hermione did not buy it. But she didn't push it, so Harry in turn didn't bother making up a better cover.

He looked over at Malfoy, who was holding up a root, eyeing it critically, mouth moving and Parkinson by his side rolled her eyes at his complaining.

That guy was not in a relationship with that girl. He was in fact gay. As in liked boys. Harry felt oddly reassured by the knowledge.