Homesick

Homesick

Draco bit his lip as hard as he could until the metallic taste of blood revolted him and the sob escaped anyway. He was lying with his face buried in the pillow, so it was muffled anyway, but the pricklings of shame continued. A Malfoy doesn't cry. A Malfoy doesn't cry. His father's words beat a tattoo in his head but he couldn't stop the tears running down his face. He was homesick.

He'd been terrified when his father and mother left him on the train with only Crabbe and Goyle for company. Loyal they might be, but it meant he had to think for three and continually acting as if he knew what he was doing was hard when his knees felt like jelly. He'd even attempted to be friendly to the Potter boy, in the hope of finding someone as scared as him, but that had backfired miserably. Father would be angry; he had strict instructions to get as close as he could to the Boy Who Lived, only a Weasley had got there first.

And then the Sorting...it had suddenly occurred to him that there was a chance he might not be in Slytherin and he had frozen in terror. He had been chanting 'please Slytherin' under his breath for ten minutes before the hat was placed on his head and the amused voice said If that's what you want....

Relief for a time, but now lying alone in his bed, the fear had come back. What if nobody liked him? Crabbe and Goyle were more bodyguards than friends and he'd never managed to have a decent conversation with either of them. There were two other boys in the dorm, boys who hadn't spoken to him as he got into bed and he was terrified of being a social outcast. And what about the work...what if he couldn't do it? What if he didn't have any real magical talent? At least he didn't have to worry about Quidditch until next year...

Another muffled sob escaped. He missed his Mum. He wanted to go home, to his room next to hers where she would always come and say goodnight, always a kiss for her little boy before the lights went out. He didn't need the reassurance anymore but it made him feel loved. Father said that she babied him, that she made him weak and pathetic, but Mum didn't care. Without her, he would be in Durmstrang, miles from home. It was the first time he had seen her stand up to Father, seen her strong and fiery, the woman she must have been before Father broke her. All that fury, for love of him. It almost made up for Father, for how nothing he did was good enough, how nothing was ever up to his father's standards.

I want to go home, he thought desperately, Mum, I want to come home...

"Draco? Draco Malfoy?"

He jumped up, heart beating wildly, searching for the owner of the voice. His eyes slowly adjusted and he saw a pale face peering anxiously at him from between the curtains.

"I'm Blaise Zabini."

Zabini...Zabini... Oh, yes, now he remembered. Pureblood for centuries, very noble, but recently fallen on hard times. Poor as church mice, his father had said, sneering. Draco called on his iciest tones to absolutely crush the impertinent boy. He meant to say with an aristocratic drawl: I do not appreciate being disturbed while sleeping.

It came out as:

"I do not - sniffle - appreciate - sniffle - being...being..."

A particularly unruly sob broke off the rest of the sentence. Blaise slipped through the curtains and sat on the bed, revealing himself to be a dark-haired, slightly taller boy.

"What's wrong?" he asked sympathetically. Draco's hearing, attuned to sarcasm and disdain, noted the sincerity with surprise and replied automatically.

"Homesick."

"Me too," Blaise said, shifting closer. "At home I have to sleep with my little brother. I've never been on my own in a bed. I don't like it."

"You share a bed?" Draco asked, horrified yet fascinated.

"Because it's a double, see? We've got two double beds and two rooms, so I have to share. He's only five." Blaise paused. "I suppose it's a bit weird to you. You live in a big mansion, don't you? Hundreds of beds?"

"Not quite hundreds," Draco said, sobbing over, "but lot's more than you."

There was a slightly injured silence.

"Sorry," Draco offered. "I didn't mean to hurt your feelings."

Blaise shifted his weight slightly.

"Can I - can I stay for a bit?" he asked, then quickly rushed on, "only I can't sleep and I'm really lonely and -"

"O.K." Draco said, sounding slightly surprised at himself. He moved over and Blaise hesitantly lay down next to him. This was definitely weird, Draco thought, but I don't care. At least he's talking to me.

"So, tell me about your house," Blaise said, turning his face towards Draco. "Do you have House Elves?"

"Yeah, dozens of them..."

The darkness was alive with whispering for a time, then slowly settled into silence as the two boys drifted off to sleep. Blaise had got under the covers and curled up close to Draco to try and stay warm, as the room was now bitterly cold, and Draco lay with his head resting on Blaise's shoulder, one arm curled around the other boy's waist.

Strange...but nice...Draco thought fuzzily as he sank into sleep. Someone who likes me...