Just Another Midnight Escapade

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The dormitory was quiet at one in the morning. The students had fallen asleep, mostly around eleven, and weren't likely to be woken. The curtains were drawn around their four-poster beds, maroon velvet hanging in heavy ripples. Suddenly, through the soft material on one of the beds, a small, pale finger poked through, followed by three others, and a thumb.

The curtains parted slowly, and a cloaked figure loomed in the darkness behind it. Its hood covered its hair and shadowed it's face, hiding its identity from any who might see it. It slinked off the bed, wand in its hand, and headed towards the staircase to begin its descent.

The figure then traveled up another staircase and entered a room practically identical to the first. Its eyes scoured the room, searching empty crannies for subtle clues. Its vision rested on one item- a pair of dark glasses lying carelessly, lenses down, on a bedside table. The figure walked, almost weightlessly, towards the bed the glasses lay near.

Suddenly a light groaning noise arose from a nearby bed, followed by a murmur of "No, stop!" and the sounds of heavy thrashing. The figure's attention wasn't easily distracted. It was another one of the redheaded boy's nightmares, it knew. It came here often.

Reaching out its pale hand, it parted the curtains to reveal a sleeping sixteen-year-old boy, dark hair strewn against a pale olive forehead. His lips were parted slightly, his chest rising and falling with his breath. The figure reached out to touch his face, but pulled away harshly at contact, gasping slightly as if the skin were hot to the touch.

It shuddered and looked down, seemingly realizing it's actions on its midnight escapade. Closing the curtains it sauntered back to the staircase, ashamed and alone.

Stopping at the top it seemed to be making a decision. It sighed and brought one hand up to its head, pushing the silky black hood down. It stole one last look at the boy's bed, feeling exposed, for its features were now visible. Seamus Finnigan silently watched through the crack in his curtains as Ginny Weasley started quickly down the staircase, back into the loneliness. He wiped a tear from his eye and layed back into his soft, downy bed.

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Ginny crawled gingerly into her bed, gently wiping the tears from the corners of her eyes. She pulled her covers up to her chin, and curled up into a ball beneath them. Why did she torture herself like this? The only thing this ever brought her was an aftertaste of loneliness. But he looked so . . . the word "beautiful" came to mind, but somehow didn't seem right. Ginny sighed and rocked herself to sleep, counting one more day on her own.

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Hermione plopped down at the table, looking dreadfully sleepy. Ron laughed at her groggy expression. "Stayed up a bit late last night working on the potions homework, eh? Good thing I didn't! Although Snape may have a rather different opinion. But you . . . you look tired as Hell!"

He laughed playfully at this until Hermione shot him a blood-curdling look, then he stopped abruptly. "Oh, sod off," she snapped, resting her forehead on her palm.

Ron looked hurt. "Jeez, 'Mione, what's got into you?". Harry leaned over and whispered something into Ron's ear. Ron's mouth closed tightly, and his face began to turn a bright crimson. "Errrrr, sorry 'Mione, I didn't, errrrr, know you were about to have your- OW!"

Harry elbowed him in the side before he could say anything and smiled in an understanding matter at Hermione. "Toast?" he offered, holding up the plate. "It's quite good, you know!" Hermione didn't answer, she was busy hiding her red face in her hands. "You two are a riot, you know."

"I know, believe me," Hermione sighed.

Ron didn't say anything, but munched attentively on his toast.

Meanwhile, at the Slytherin table . . .

Draco shot Goyle an icy glare as he sat down at the table, face flushed from running. "Goyle, you bloody git!"

Goyle raised a hairy eyebrow. "What's the problem?"

Draco rolled his eyes. "Being the stupid prat you are, you didn't even bother to wake me up for breakfast- McGonagall took five points from Slytherin for that, you know- she told me in the hall. If you can't be more responsible, Goyle . . ." He glared menacingly in Goyle's direction. "Why must you be such a dolt?" he groaned, after seeing no reaction in the pudgy boy's face.

Goyle gave Draco a dumbly innocent shrug, and chuckled lowly. Draco sighed, obviously flustered. He wished that just for one day he could escape their stupidity- sometimes even Granger and Weasley seemed better than the idiots he had to put up with. "Pellerin?" he yawned.

Star looked up from her orange juice. "What?"

"He's an idiot!"

"You interrupted me with my orange juice just to tell me that?" she growled. "I was trying to think! And plus, I knew that already, it's obvious! I don't need to play detective to get a clue." She looked over at Draco, realizing he wasn't even listening to her. She raised a silvery-blonde eyebrow, and followed his gaze over to the Gryffindor table. "Yeah, Potter sure is a pathetic little thing, isn't he?"

Draco looked back at her, his face forming a slightly confused expression. "Errrr . . . yeah! Yes, of course!" he stuttered, trying to look disgusted, but not openly succeeding.

"Mudblood and the weasel aren't much better, eh?" she chuckled. Upon seeing Draco's expressionless face, she furrowed her brow. "Something seems a little bit . . . off . . . about you today, Draco. Are you feeling alright?" She frowned. "Draco? Is something wrong?"

Draco suddenly snapped to attention. "What? Err, no! So just . . . just be quiet, okay?". He brought his hand up to the side of his face, bringing up a subtle barrier between him and his friend. "Now pass me the milk."

Rolling her eyes, Star obeyed.

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Ginny ran to catch up with Harry. "Harry, wait up!" she yelled down the hallway at him. He looked back over his shoulder to see a redheaded blob running towards him ((I need to get a new perscription for my glasses, he noted)).

"Oh, Ginny! Hi!" he replied as soon as the girl came into focus. "Sorry 'bout that, I couldn't tell who you were at first- can't see that well at the moment." He pointed to his glasses. "Just going back to the dorms, I left my wand by my bed."

"Great!" she blurted. "I don't mind about the glasses thing, really, don't worry at all." She suddenly bit her lip, and looked down. "Errrr, I was just wondering . . . " she trailed off.

"Yeah?". Harry's voice brought her back to the point.

She tilted her head away from him as she felt goosebumps raise on her arms. "Do you think you'd . . . want to . . . go to the dance with me?" she asked softly.

There was no response from Harry for a few moments, the empty time served perfectly for her stomach to go berserk. "Yes," he finally replied. "But . . . but only as friends. Is that . . . okay?"

Ginny nodded, still looking down. "Harry, I . . . I have to go." She turned around and fled, running towards the girls bathroom.

What have I gone and done this time? Harry groaned to himself. I wanted to ask Cho in the first place, but then Ginny asked me, and I just couldn't break her heart . . . but I did anyway. Her face when I told her just as friends, it was enough to make me cry. Oh God, how could I?

Ron appeared walking towards him from the main hall as he stood and contemplated his reply. "Harry, is something wrong?"

"No! I mean, yes- I- errr-" He sighed. "Walk with me to our room, I'll explain on the way."

Ron nodded. "If you say so!"

As they started walking and Harry told Ron his problem of the day, one persistant thought kept nagging at Harry. If I'm only upset about Cho, then why do I keep thinking about . . . Draco?

When the two boys had vanished from view, Seamus Finnigan stepped cautiously out from behind a statue, and gazed longingly in the direction of the girls bathroom.