Under Cold Stars

Harry awakes to the sound of Ron's voice and the feeling of having his shoulder bones compressed. “Harry, will you bloody well wake up? We're going to be late for breakfast! What were you doing last night? One of the prefects was asking where you were and I had to tell them you were ill and had to keep going to the bathroom. Bloody wake up Harry!” Harry groans as the tirade continues, “Harry, come *on*, Hermione's waiting in the common room and if you don't bloody get a move on we're going to go without you. Harry?”

“Alright, just stop shaking me, I feel like my head's going to fall off.”

“Have you been drinking Harry?”

“Without you? Never!” The two boys laugh as Harry throws off the covers and half falls, half rolls from the bed. The floor is cold against his feet and he quickly shuffles into his slippers only to have Ron start over.

“Harry, don't go putting your bloody slippers on, you've not got time!” He dumps Harry's uniform unceremoniously in a heap and begins rooting in the clothes chest for some socks which, on their discovery, he throws at Harry who, not wearing his glasses, lunges to catch them and headbutts the bedpost. “Sorry.” Ron says meekly.

“Never mind.” Harry dresses as fast as his aching head will allow and they go down to the common room where Hermione is doing her best impression of an unimpressed mother of six.

“What time do you call this?” She crosses her arms and pouts, “You know what your trouble is? You've got no sense of responsibility.”

“Knock it off Herm, my head feels like I drank a couple of hundred pints of Butterbeer last night.”

“Did you?”

“What is it with you two, you think I'm some sort of alcoholic?” Hermione giggles and the other two join in, until they're snorting and shaking at which point they head out of the common room for breakfast.

****

Draco sleeps fitfully and when he awakes it takes him a full two minutes to unravel himself from the sheets which seem to have found ways of knotting him into an uncomfortable foetal position which, he knows, will result in a stiff neck for the day's duration. Once free, he dresses in his uniform and sits, on the edge of his unmade bed, thinking.

He dreamt about the rabbit again; it's thrashing legs presumably imitated by his own, though without the blood. The dream had been no different from any other on that subject and he wonders why he keeps having it. He rarely places much stock by dreams but it seems to suggest that a matter is unresolved and he does, indeed, have plenty of 'unfinished business', as it were.

He is drawn from his thoughts by Crabbe's grunting and he rolls his eyes as the heavier boy tumbles from his bed muttering about the evils of daylight. Draco stands slowly, avoiding the usual head rush, and begins to make his bed, tucking the sheets under the mattress and plumping the pillows before pulling the throw over and smoothing it out. That done, he leans against the bedpost and watches as Crabbe pulls on his robe and grunts again, indicating that he is now ready to go to breakfast.

“Morning to you too.” Picking up his robe he follows Crabbe out of the room, kicking Goyle's bed hard enough to wake him on the way, and calling over his shoulder icily as he passes, “Better hurry up, you don't want to miss the morning feed.”

****

Eventually, still giggling, the trio arrive in the Hall which, for all intents and purposes, is empty causing Ron to round on Harry, red-faced and eyes glistening. “You made us miss breakfast! I told you...” He stops, looking over Harry's shoulder and the other two turn to see what's there. A selection of students from every house make their ways through the open door, walking in groups towards their respective tables.

“We're early?” Harry asks in disbelief. The other two look sheepish, “Bloody typical.”

Sitting at the table, Harry nurses a glass of water whilst the other two eat anything they can reach. Harry plays with the muffin on his plate until Ron asks, “Are you eating that?” And Harry hands it over. He doesn't look for Malfoy, purposefully, but he finds it increasingly difficult not to at least see if he's even *at* breakfast.

He sees Snape get down from the teachers' table and watches to see where he's going, when the man stops beside Draco, Harry turns away and stares fixedly at his glass until McGonagall taps him on the shoulder.

“Come with me Harry, I need to speak to you in my office.”

“But what about his breakfast?” Ron asks in mock horror.

“He hasn't eaten anything yet so I doubt very much he'll eat anything now, don't you Weasley?” Ron subsides and pulls his usual 'oh well, good luck mate' face at Harry who stands and follows his housemistress from the hall, noticing as he does so, that both Snape and Draco have left ahead of him.

“Oh dear.” He mutters.

****

The hall is already teaming when they arrive and take their seats at the Slytherin table. After the usual mechanics from Dumbledore, Draco allows his eyes to slide over the room, ignoring, as usual, the sounds of Crabbe's gluttony drifting across the table. He can see Harry and the musketeers but quickly moves his eyes elsewhere, jolting slightly as he does so. Eventually, his gaze finds Snape who is looking directly at him, his head on one side, and with one eyebrow raised. Draco nods to him, politely, in recognition and turns back to the table feeling slightly unnerved.

A tap on his shoulder does nothing to ease the feeling and he turns to see who it is and what they want. Snape stands over him, his favourite overbearing position, frowning slighty. Malfoy knows not to read anything from that expression; the only cause for concern on Snape's face would be a smile.

“Yes Sir?” He asks.

Snape pushes his hair back from his face before replying, “See me in my office would you Malfoy? Immediately after breakfast.” With that, he leaves the Hall and Draco turns back to the table.

“What'd he want?” Crabbe splutters through a mouthful of toast.

“I've got to go and see him, after breakfast. In his office.” Crabbe nods, no longer interested until there are further details or something which involves him. Pushing his plate away, as clean as it was when he first sat down, Draco stands. “I think I'll go now.” He doesn't wait for a response but makes his way to Snape's office, hoping he doesn't bump into anyone along the way.