hogwarts third year, grey wizard harry, dumbledore bashing, hermione bashing, weasleys bashing, angst, hopeful ending
i want to change the ending cause i feel like it was rushed so...
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No one had ever seen the Great Hall's floor covered with a sea of green lumps under an enchanted ceiling of candles.
Harry laid in his sleeping bag next to Ron, along with the rest of the school, eyes wide open, unable to sleep as his mind wandered around.
Sirius Black had broken into Hogwarts and slashed the Fat Lady's portrait in an attempt to enter Gryffindor Tower just a while ago. Because of that, Professor Dumbledore had gathered every student of all Houses into the Great Hall for the night, for security purposes, while the other professors searched everywhere in the school for Black.
What most students didn't know was that they were safe.
Sirius Black was only after Harry.
It was half-past three in the morning before Harry was finally able to fall asleep, worrying about Black niggling his mind, making his toes tingles with fear.
Harry sighed softly. Despite the cushioning charm underneath him, the cold floor was still hard beneath the sleeping bag. Each professor would come in to check on the students every hour on the hour and the school's ghosts floated like watch guards in the Hall.
. . .
Harry dreamt of a huge, black dog-like creature standing over his sleeping bag, saliva dripping from a foaming mouth and glistening on its needle-sharp teeth. Foul breath panted across his face.
Fear seized Harry, preventing him from drawing the wand hidden beneath his pillow. The creature lowered his head, glowing eyes staring at Harry like he was a tasty meal. Its jaws parted wide and—
. . .
Harry woke abruptly, his eyes snapping open. His heart pounded in his chest rapidly and he clutched the hand beneath his own as he tried to regulate his breathing. He could hear Percy, doing his Head Boy duty, commanding the students that were still awake to go to sleep. He released a slow breath.
The pale light of dawn filtered through the windows. Harry could make out the ginger blur of Ron's hair poking from the top of the sleeping bag beside him.
It took a moment or two for Harry's sleep-fuzzed mind to realize it was not actually Ron's hand that he was holding tight. He turned his head to the other side, nose scraping against the pillow, and focused nearsightedly on the person sleeping on the other side of him.
Harry stopped breathing in shock. He could recognise that pointy white-blond blur with white snowy skin anywhere.
It was Draco Malfoy.
And Harry was holding his hand.
Harry blinked several times but the sight didn't change.
He was holding Malfoy's hand.
Malfoy was lying on his side, facing Harry, still fast asleep. His hand rested in a gentle fist in the small space between them. Harry's hand was curled over the top of Malfoy's, his fingers dark compared to Malfoy's porcelain skin.
Lying on his stomach, his head turned towards Malfoy, he continued to stare at their co-joined hands as his mind whirled. What was Malfoy doing next to Harry? Last Harry had known, Malfoy was on the other side of the Great Hall hidden between the two huge, green lumps of Crabbe and Goyle.
