Drarry One-Shots

vi ~ Almost

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"Turn to page 364," a dull voice echoes from behind a podium at the front of the large classroom. I look up and my eyes meet its source: Professor Snape. He slowly saunters across the room, lamely gazing down at his many students as we tiredly turn to the requested page of our thick textbooks.

Once the ruffling of pages has stopped, the man continues onward with his lesson, frequently referring to the projection at the front of the classroom. I don't pay too much attention, though--not to him, at least. My eyes are instead set upon a certain raven-haired boy who sits several rows ahead of me.

The Gryffindor in question sits with his fist rested below his chin, propping him up as he dozes in and out of consciousness in his seemingly exhausted state. I find myself sitting in the same position, only my mind is racing a mile a minute, daydreaming of the things I'd do with him if he felt the same as I.

Time feels meaningless as dreams of cuddling up with movies and grand gestures on Valentine's Day dance through my mind, lighting my insides up with fluttering butterflies and a comforting sense of warmth.

I'm snapped back into the meaningless present as everyone turns to the next page of their textbook. I follow the motions and do the same, and after a lame attempt at paying attention, I slip back into my dream world with The Chosen One.

Harry sits upright in his chair and mutters something to his redheaded Weasley friend who laughs quietly in response. Granger shushes both of them hurriedly before returning her focussed gaze to Snape and the notes before her. I find myself wishing I could trade places with one of his beloved friends, longing to be the one who he whispers some stupid comment to during potions class. I ponder this thought for a while longer.

"Draco, are you coming?" a voice says after what feels like years. Upon sitting upright, I find that the source of the voice is Pansy. I look around and realize that the majority of the large class has already packed up their things.

I sigh and look over to Harry who is slinging his satchel-like bookbag over his shoulders. "Oh, right," I say, disappointed to be brought out of my pondering of what I'd get the man for Christmas.

"What's up with you?" Pansy inquires as I gather my things. "You've been acting so strangely lately. Like, really out of it."

Despite my lack of intention for them to do so, my eyes once again drift over to Harry who casually sits atop the table and briefly chats with his friends. "I've just been quite tired lately is all," I lie, wishing the girl would drop the subject and allow me to sink back into my fictional utopia.

I turn to Pansy and unfortunately find her with a curious look on her face. "Is something the matter?" she queries.

I shake my head and finally sling my own bag over my shoulder, doing my best to look good for the boy who sits only a few feet away and is facing my general direction. "No, I'm alright," I assure. "Thanks."

The black-haired girl nods with understanding. "Alright," she says.

Sighing with relief, I begin my exit from the room and send one last look in Harry's direction only to find him heading my way.

The smile melts off the boy's face as he notices my gaze that's fixed upon him. He sighs tiredly. "What, Malfoy?" Harry says with a mixture of exasperation and annoyance. "Got something to say?"

I find myself at a loss of words as I'm put on the spot. Usually, I'm initiating the taunts as a desperate attempt to get the man's attention. Now, though, I wasn't prepared for what was playing out. "Uh, no," I say, my voice almost inaudibly quiet. "No," my voice comes out more assured and stern as I hope he hasn't noticed how unusually civil I'm being.

Harry nods and walks off with his friends. "Just go away, Malfoy," Weasley spats with a frustrated scoff.

"Why can't they just fuck off? You hadn't said a damn thing to them," Pansy says with anger evident in her tone once the trio is well on their way down the hallway. I simply shrug in response, my focus instead on replaying the conversation over and over again in my head.

We walk onward in silence for quite sometime before finally reaching the Great Hall for dinner. I sit with Crabbe, Goyle, Blaise, and Pansy as usual, but my mind is not with them. My mind is with the Boy Who Lived, the boy who sits twenty-or-so feet away, laughing happily with his extended group of friends, the boy who is bound to save the entirety of the Wizarding World as we know it, the boy who's had my heart since the day I first heard his name, his story, and his legend as a child.

I steal as many glances from my friends as I can, and instead aim them toward the wondrous boy who sits across the hall. He, of course, never returns the favor. This doesn't surprise me, though, as this is how it always has been.

After a long, tiring classes and an even longer, more draining day, I finally crash into my fluffy comforter and curl up into its warmth. The rest of my dorm mates get into their beds as well, letting out deep sighs of exhaustion and relief to finally have an opportunity for rest. I do the same, desperate to melt into my pillow, and eventually, my dreams--a place where my alternate reality with Harry can truly come to life. I can believe it to be reality for that short period of time. That period of time before I ultimately, unfortunately, wake yet again in the morning light to face another day of my lonely, touch-starved life that exists without Harry in it.

Until then, though, I'll allow my mind to almost convince me that this alternate reality that I get to spend with him is real--that its enough.

Almost.

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