Harry Potter VI Understory (cont'd)
Feelings
That night, and for the next several nights Harry slept fitfully, his wand cradled to his chest as if ready for battle (had Draco returned it to him? Or had he marched across the room, taken it back forcefully, and then stormed out of the little room? What was that room for anyway?) Ron noticed he was in a particularly sour mood but was two busy snogging Lavender all around campus, and avoiding Hermione to really sit and have a talk with Harry. Even Ginny, a week later, stopped trying to get his attention at Quidditch practices long enough to flirt with her actual boyfriend, Dean.
There were tons of N.E.W.T. homework to finish, practicing apparition, and special classes with Dumbledore to worry about as well. He never said a word to the professor about his discussions with Malfoy, but now had no doubt that it was his mentor who was his classmate’s target at Hogwarts. Eventually Slughorn’s memory would prove exactly why. Malfoy was definitely up to something at the school, but he was wise enough to lay off Harry and his friends while he was doing it. The last thing the two of them wanted was another public row. He was only heard to mutter “mudblood...” once over the next few weeks, and his new skinny, pale look was attracting attention from his comrades, and from Harry.
But again, it was the nights that Harry was really concentrating on. Sleeplessness wasn’t really the issue, as that could have easily been sorted out by Madam Pomfrey. It was more like Harry really didn’t want to sleep. He kept thinking about Horcruxes, what in the world they could possibly be, and how he and Dumbledore could possibly find and destroy them all. For the millionth time, he wished he led a normal life and didn’t have to keep dodging death and the end-of-the-world at every turn.
One particularly bad night he awoke in a cold sweat reliving the past few weeks-the most terrible points anyways:
”’Of the Horcrux, wickedest and moste evile of inventions’...’lovely potion Harry Potter’...’Harry you really ought to have told Ginny by now, I heard her and Dean arguing anout the portrait hole’...’really quite excellent, Potter, you have your mother’s talent’...’Of the Horcrux’...’I’m trying to save you Potter’”
Harry turned over. He could see Malfoy clearly in his dream, he was right in front of him, he was about to kill Harry.
”Why?” Harry asked.
”I’m trying to save you” was all that was repeated.
”Save me from what?!” dream Harry kept asking, but all Malfoy did was move in for the kill-kiss rather, as the memory seemed to be melding with an earlier one...
”From a broken life...broken.”
Harry rolled back onto his other side, fitfully trying to shake the feeling off: ”love-lyyy potion Harry...”
He awoke with a start, as previously described, in a cold sweat. He looked over at Ron, afraid his friend might have disappeared into another dimension, but Ron was there, swatting at the air and saying: “Bugger, Hermione...gerroff.”
Harry was greatful that no one else could see what he saw. Love potion.
That was it. That explained everything. His mind flashed back to that day in Knockturn Alley, he had dropped a bottle of Fred and George’s love potion on himself, and then gone chasing after Malfoy right after... how positively stupid. Now, not only was he finding himself dreaming of him, but also not killing him when he had many chances to do so. And that kiss...
”Oh, shit.” Harry said to himself, realizing exactly what that had meant. Neville snorted something about mimbulus in his sleep and slowly rolled over. Harry quietly got out of bed, slipped on his invisibility cloak, and headed quietly, oh so softly, through the dormitory, down to the empty common room, and to the portrait hole. He had to know something, had to, and regardless of all the trouble he was probably going to get into, it had to be tonight.
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