Bliss My Eyes

Part Five: Can't Sleep Anymore

It's feels like it has been ages since I saw Harry, longer since I've slept a whole night. As I look like a horrid mess, it's been pretty simple to convince everyone that I'm sick and unable to attend class.

Of course, not seeing him and not thinking about him are two very different things, and my mind seems to be working overtime to compensate for his lack of presence in my life.

Another night like every other, I lie in bed and listen to Crabbe snore. He snores loudly and I try to muffle it by putting my pillow around my head, but he just snore snore snores all the same. Even without a Harry Potter obsession, it alone could drive me mad.

So, face pressed into the mattress, I as usual try to think calming thoughts.

My mum. She's great, not like dad who likes hitting me and insulting me, I'm never cruel enough bad enough evil enough to suit him. My mum, though, used to sing me to sleep at night and tuck me in, used to wake me up in the morning by pressing a kiss to my forehead.

Every night I try to remember the songs but can't. The words remain a mystery.

I know that some of them were Muggle songs she learnt from Muggle friends of hers, she's never cared about that pureblood stuff. Why didn't I turn out like her?

Because she loved me, of course, and I seem to love people who don't love me back.

Right. Not comforting.

Crabbe lets out a really gross snort and I wince, pull tighter on the pillow.

Mmm, my mind wonders. Harry.

Sod off, get out of my thoughts.

What would he taste like, Draco?

No.

What would he smell like if you were close enough to him?

No, no. Not going there.

Him and Weasley and Granger always seem so much happier than you and Goyle and Crabbe. He listens to them, cares what they say. What they feel. Your friends don't even ask why you can't sleep anymore, why you pick at your food like it's been poisoned and you're scared of it.

Lips like fire, eyes so green. Skin so soft, it's almost obscene...

No, Malfoy. You will not compose poetry to Harry Potter in your head.

Crabbe lets out the biggest snore yet and I bolt up in bed, whip my pillow at him. This wakes him and he sits up, looks up at me with sleepy surprise.

"Shut. Up."

He makes an indignant noise and lies back down, rolls over.

I lie back down.

Silence. Mmm. Love silence. Good silence.

Crabbe snores.

***

I go to class the next day and wait up for Harry instead of running away like I usually do. Crabbe and Goyle head off for dinner, don't bother to ask me if I'll be joining them. I see Snape watching with interest. Harry is moving slowly as he gathers his books, probably hoping that I'll just bugger off. Good luck.

Then he's gotten everything and sees that I'm still there, approaches me with his groupies in tow.

"Can I speak with you?" I glance and Granger and Weasley, let my face fall into it's usual sneer. "Alone?"

Weasley frowns. "You know," he comments. "That used to be a lot more menacing when you didn't look like a homeless mental hospital escapee."

Admittedly, I have let my public image go a bit. My hair, which I don't bother to put back anymore, or even run a comb through, is messy and sticking up in all different directions. I know that the bags under my eyes are not exactly sexy either. But I am sure that once this is done with, all will be well and good. And this is a Weasley after all, and not one to teach me about hygiene. I am about to respond when Harry steps forward and says firmly, "Now or never, Malfoy." He turns back to his friends. "Meet you there."

They push past me and head on to the great hall, both of them speaking quietly and looking back at us.

With a glance at Snape, who is still watching without a hint of subtlety, I begin to walk so that we're out of view from the classroom. Harry keeps up but neither of us speak.

I stop when we've gotten far enough and just stand there, telling myself that I really shouldn't be doing this. But I do so miss sleeping and am very certain that this will help.

"Okay," I say after quite a lengthy silence. "I am telling you this so that I can begin to get some real sleep again, regain my appetite, and remember to deal with my hair in the mornings. That is the only reason."

He looks like he's both nervous and amused, I notice that his hands are clenched at his sides. Mmm, his hands. How I would like to- NO.

"I am very much in love with you." I want to vomit as soon as the words leave my mouth, this sounds even worse than I'd imagined it would. "And I understand that this is not normal for someone who is supposed to be your mortal enemy, but tough on that. After all, I have come to realize that, due to my unhealthy attachment to you and my desire to bring joy to my father by being as rotten as possible, I am a masochistic idiot who loves unattainable bastards."

He is gaping at me, his mouth hanging open, and I find myself thinking that it is really very endearing, that I would like to grab him and kiss him until he likes me back. But things don't work that way, people don't like you just because you stick your tongue in their mouth, so I don't and then add, "Now I expect nothing to change, only perhaps now I will be able to resume living normally. Eating, sleeping, not forgetting how to breath every so often."

I turn and start heading back to my room, as my appetite has not returned yet, then call back, "Don't tell anyone, Potter. I may be lovesick and slightly mad, but I can still make you horribly miserable."