Sing me to sleep (a Dramonie story)

1

Returning to hogwarts for his final year was not a decision made out of his "love" for the school, instead it was a choice made by Draco to escape from his overbearing father. After the war against Voldermort, he needed some time off from his family and their wrongdoings.

But Hogwarts had not gave him a warm welcome either. Everyone was well aware of his part in the war. He was branded a coward. He knew he had deserved it. The whispers amongst the students, the distasteful glances thrown his way.  He had found little solace in the Slytherin commonroom, with Pansy Parkinson trailing behind him.

And there was another problem; he couldn't sleep.

No matter how much he had tossed and turned, or used whatever potions that was supposed to help he had remained wide awake in the dark of the night. He would find himself staring at the ceiling and counting the ticks of the clock.

It was absolutely torturous and the bags under his eyes had shown it.

"Are you sure you're fine?" Zabini asked, snapping Draco from his intense stare at a potion book. Blaise had been on of the few to not judge him. After all, he had been there too.

Draco nodded silently, trying and failing to provide his friend any reassurance. "Fantastic."

Zabini sighed, he was well aware of his friend's problems. He had been the one to cook up those sleeping draughts by request. Malfoy had dozed off almost immediately, but it never lasted more than an hour. Maybe an hour and a half, if they were lucky.

Before Blaise could say anything, Draco got up.

"I'm going back to the dorm to rest. I'll see you later." He gave him a curt nod and walked away. But as he was on his way back, he saw her, and those eyes that had never stopped haunting him. In his mind, they were so full of sorrow, pain and sadness. But to see that in reality was heartbreaking. Yes, infront of everyone she was still the brightest wizard of her age, the back bone of the golden trio, the girl who fought alongside the light.

But there was vulnerability under her mask of coolness now.

He wanted to talk to her, to apologise. But was it not too late? Did he not ruin any chance of forgivness?

Draco did not know. But then again, he didn't know anything.

She didn't see him, he thought. He was okay with that, he wouldn't have said the right thing anyway. So he watched her disappear after a turn, and continued back to his dorm.

A hand latched onto his shoulder, "Draco!" she squealed.

He scowled. What did she want?

"Yes?"

Pansy Parkinson smiled widely, "Did you hear the news about Hermione Grange's wand?"

He turned to face her, "No.."

"Well," she spoke hushed, yet filled with excitement, "you wouldn't have until tomorrow anyways. I broke it! Can you believe it? And she has a test tomorrow."

His face twisted until all emotion left was disgust, he shrugged off her hand violently and turned on his heels. He wanted to get as far away from her as possible. To get closer to Granger. 

He stood outside the gryffindor commonroom, reading a book silently. She didn't know about her wand. Not yet anyways. He lifted a hand to knock, to alert her that he was here. But it never came. What good would it to tell her about her wand anyways, he reasoned, she would just assume he was part of the scheme as well.

He was a coward. He wasn't a hero. He was Draco; the slytherin snake.