This One's For You

This One's For You

Prologue: Reasons

Harry had become an insomniac. It was hard to believe what the Boy Who Lived had become, but it had happened nonetheless. Harry couldn't sleep at night, so he slept at strange intervals throughout the day. Harry had two reasons for this problem. One was his nightmares, which was totally reasonable. He had been through a war and he had killed. What insane weirdo would be able to sleep through the night, with all the images of dead friends running rampant through his REM cycle? The second reason, however, was slightly far-fetched. Draco had always come to him at night, and Harry didn't want to miss him.

The problem with this thinking was that no one had seen Draco since graduation. He had gathered up his things and disappeared. Some had said he had anonymously joined the Dark Side during the war. Others said the same thing, but that he joined the Light. Still others said he ran away, to wait out and see who had won, then come back and join them. Harry plain didn't care, just as long as Draco was alive, and still wanted him.

Hermione and Ron were worried about him. They said that he had become much too obsessed about "that stupid blonde git." Harry did not agree. Draco was his One And Only, so why shouldn't he be obsessed? Just because he hadn't talked to Draco in four years didn't mean a thing.

Hermione said that his dragon collection and his body pillow, named 'Draco', had gone a bit too far. Plus, Ron said that the blonde-wigged mannequin in his closet was just disturbing. Thank the Powers That Be that 'Mione hadn't seen it and Ron hadn't deigned to tell her.

Still, Hermione had bullied Harry into talking to someone about Draco. She had recommended a friend of hers in the psychiatric business, but Harry preferred talking to someone he knew. That was why he was standing on the stoop of The Burrow.

A moment after Harry knocked, the door was flung open. A short, pleasant looking, plump woman peered out into the bright sunlight. When her eyes adjusted, she smiled widely and yanked Harry tightly to her bosom.

"Harry! How lovely to see you! You don't come 'round anymore. Come in, come in!" She ushered Harry through the door and into the dim kitchen, where something delicious-smelling seemed to be cooking. "You're looking for Ron, I suppose. I'm afraid he's still at work."

"Um, actually, I was looking for Bill. Is he in?"

Mrs. Weasley's face darkened slightly. "He's always in," she muttered.

"Erm."

"Well, Harry, he's up in his room."

"Er... Thanks." Harry walked cautiously away, trying not to show his relief at leaving Mrs. Weasley's presence, and started up the stairs.

Bill was actually a logical choice. Older, but not as old as Remus, and not as normal as most people. He would know exactly how to deal with this, and if not, he could give some really solid pointers. Or some really solid drugs.