I Cannot Sleep, I Cannot Dream Tonight

Draco couldn't sleep.

If he stopped to think about it, the situation was rather ... tiring. Slumber usually claimed him almost as soon as his head hit the feather-soft pillow with his initials DM carefully embroided in the corner - but not tonight. Not for the last week, in fact, had the blissful ignorance of sleep been able to lure Draco into letting his eyelids close on the blue darkness of the hospital wing at Hogwarts. Instead, he found himself drifting off during the daytime, when the curtains were drawn to keep out the harsh heat of the early July sunrays and he couldn't resist the pull of sleep against the quiet, dim light. It made him grumpy and irritable, and, not surprisingly, quite unpleasant company. It was all to do with a fear of becoming irreversibly nocturnal, really - but fortunately or not, few noticed that he was more snappy and sardonic than usual.

The worse thing was that had he wanted to, Draco could have easily asked for - hell, he could have demanded a potion to make him sleep. He could have put an end to the permanent tiredness, the endless hours awake in the dark, with simply a few words. Aside from being one of the most powerful wizards' son in the whole of England and having anything he bloody well needed, he was in the hospital wing for goodness sake - a sleeping potion would hardly be a difficulty. The truth was though, that it wasn't that Draco couldn't sleep at night - it was that, for some absurd, completely illogical, frightening reason - he didn't want to. And it was all because of her.

Well, it wasn't really. It was because of lots of things that neither he, nor she could control. It was because of things like the way she looked irresistible with her long, fiery red hair messy and tangled on the pillow, and the way her arm thrown over her head made him want her so much ... at least he tried to convince himself it was just this. Just lust. After all, she was beautiful no matter who she was - it was undeniable. But then why, when dreams of her were tugging on the edges of his consciousness, did he keep himself awake? Why did he continue to watch her tossing and turning, twisting herself into a tight cocoon within the white hospital sheets? Why did he keep listening to her moaning - murmuring for Tom to stop, to let her go ... that she loved him? He told himself that it was because his bed was next to hers - there was no way he could shut her bloody sleep-talk out, no way he could close his ears to her cries ...

It was not that Draco had taken an active liking to Ginny Weasely, that he spent hours pining after her. It was just that she was keeping him from sleeping. He could have requested to be moved, in fact he could have almost gone home - but this, to be honest, was much more interesting. And it was definitely more entertaining than wandering the school in Crabbe and Goyle's company in the long, listless hours between classes.

Few people came to see Draco in the hospital wing. His spectacular fall from the sky with the Snitch in his hand during a Slytherin-Hufflepuff game had, of course, become old news within a few days, and it wasn't as though he had many friends he could call close. Well, close friends weren't exactly something that came with being feared, or in turn, loathed throughout the school, and so he accepted that this was something to be expected. Blaise did come to see him now and then, bringing with him the sauciest bits of school news and a sly smile. And then there was Pansy ... who would flounce in and drape her arms around him, babbling in his ear in the most annoying way possible. At these times he would usually loose his temper and mutter something about horrible smells and did she mind if he went to throw up?

"Oooh I know! It stinks in here. Poor baby, I'll wait till you come back," Pansy cooed.

Draco rolled his eyes, exasperated. "Bugger off Pansy! Go and do your nails for the fifth time today or whatever you do with that many brain cells," he said scathingly.

Pansy, looking very much the wounded puppy, jumped up and walked off, banging into her chair on her way out. Before she reached the door she turned back, her face an unpleasant shade of crimson.

"I'll come back when you're in a better mood!" she spat at Draco, who simply fell back onto his pillow and muttered, "Please don't."

He heard a smothered giggle beside him, and turned his head to see Ginny with an amused smile on her face.

"What, Weaselett?" he uttered blankly.

Her face changed into mock seriousness. "Oh, you didn't think that you're demented conversation with Parkinson was making me laugh, did you? Get over yourself Malfoy, the curtains are much more amusing," the redhead told him seriously.

Draco vaguely wondered if her illness was affecting her head in some way. "I was just trying to be nice. I assume you commoners aren't used to this kind of treatment and so you're in some kind of shock. Either that or you Weasleys are even more screwed up than you appear to be," he announced, staring up at the ceiling.

"I'm not nearly as screwed up as you are Malfoy, I'm sure," she murmured lightly, surprising him. "Ever wonder what it's like to be surrounded by people who love you? I don't imagine you'd be able to handle it."

The odd thing was, there was no malice in her voice. She was almost dreamy, and he guessed she was falling asleep - not that he cared. Wasn't it time for dinner already? He decided to ignore her and focus on more important matters, like ... like what? Like dinner? This thought depressed him slightly, and he looked around the hospital wing. There was no one else sick in bed, the other students of the school were all suffering through stuffy days in the classroom and preparing for various exams. Draco didn't even want to think about the amount of work he'd have to do when he got back to school ... another reason to stay. He felt his mind drifting into a light sleep, and he wondered again where dinner was. All the other students would be in the Great Hall now, enjoying a mouth-watering meal ... it made Draco groan out loud. He pulled himself up into a sitting position, with the intention of getting up to find Madame Pompfrey and his dinner, when he heard Ginny's voice mumble, "Where are you going?"

Her eyes were closed and she looked gorgeous in her sleep, as usual. Draco swore at himself and looked around to find his robes, assuming she was talking in her sleep. He pulled his cloak on and climbed on of bed, landing heavily on his feet. He found his balance and began walking, only to hear Ginny say loudly: "Malfoy."

He looked around to see her sitting up, leaning back on her arms, looking at him. Her cheeks were ruddy with fever - well, that was what happened when you were paired with Colin Creevey in Potions, apparently. Her brown eyes were narrow and her eyelids seemed to be struggling to stay up.

"Where are you going?"

Draco looked at her with her copper hair falling in her face and down her shoulders.

"Oh, so now I can't even get out of bed without you pestering me?" he scowled. The usual dislike with which he treated most people seemed a bit alien to him now, and he wished he wasn't feeling as confused as he seemed to be. He must've taken that fall harder than he thought ...

"Well Malfoy, seeing as you don't seem to have a very long attention span - which is hardly surprisingly because I don't suppose you need one with the likes of Pansy Parkinson - I'll give you the short answer, which is no, you can't leave without me pestering you because we're the only two people stuck here and I'd rather I knew whether or not you were running off to jump out of a window or not," Ginny explained impatiently, her voice thick with sleep.

The first thing that came to Draco's mind was that her answer wasn't really very short at all. He stood there for a millisecond with his grey eyes on her before he got hold of himself and smirked.

"You're delusional, Weasely," he said, crossing his arms. "I have no reason to jump out of a window, not that it's any of your business, but if I decide to try it for fun, I'll be sure to leave a trail of blood for you."

At this something in Ginny's face hardened and she glared at him.

"Don't do me any favors," she said to him, her voiced laced with disgust. Draco looked at her in what he hoped was an unimpressed manner.

"Relax, I'm going to find some dinner. Don't try looking tough Weaselett, you're failing abysmally."

He had meant it say it with an edge, to almost spit it at her, but it didn't come out that way. He mentally kicked himself as he saw amusement flicker in her eyes, a bemused expression on her face. He could have imagined it though, because it was gone in a flash and she stared at him blandly.

"I understand that it's difficult for you to take my eyes off me, but if you wouldn't mind tearing yourself away, I'd quite like to leave now," Draco said, thoroughly pleased with himself. Ah yes - no one, no matter how beautiful or confusing, could take away his way with words. He turned away just in time to see Ginny roll her eyes and turn over into her pillow. As he was walking, he wondered if she would sleep - if he would come back in the midst of one of her nightmares. His brow furrowed, Draco strode into the hallway.

~

Half an hour and a few irritating exchanges with house-elves later, Draco returned to the hospital wing with Madame Pompfrey behind him, bustling him along whilst expertly balancing two trays in her hands. When they entered the room, it took a moment for Ginny's soft cries to reach their eyes.

"Oh dear," murmured Madame Pompfrey. "I'll have to give her something for those nightmares. Does she have them a lot?" She asked, turning to Draco.

"I wouldn't know," said the blond, trying to keep his voice blank. Yes, he was thinking. Yes, she has them every night and it's all I can do not to shake her awake and tell her to stop crying. It's all I can do not to tell her I know what it's like - to love someone even though you hate them, to have someone haunt you. It's all I can do not to ...

"Well, I think someone will have to come and watch her tonight then, I'll get someone to do a night shift," Madame Pompfrey interrupted his thoughts, looking determined. Draco was at a loss of what to do, not that he was showing it. He cleared his throat.

"I'm an extremely light sleeper, I'm sure she'd wake me up if she was having nightmares," he stated with an air of arrogance and distaste. Madame Pompfrey looked uncertain.

"Wouldn't having a new person there only upset her more?" Draco said, on the verge of being irritated. "I'm sure I don't want her whining throughout the whole night when until now she hasn't been of any disturbance, thank Merlin."

The nurse, though looking slightly unconvinced, nodded. Draco, though looking confident and pretentious, was completely baffled.

~

That night, Draco heard Ginny's voice in the dark after Madame Pompfrey had turned out the lights.

"Why are you still here, Malfoy?" Ginny said, sounding confused. Draco, looking at her out of the corner of his eye, could see her dark figure staring at the ceiling. "You're arm's almost healed, there's no reason for you to still be here."

He didn't know what to say, and he wished like hell he wasn't in this situation. What he wouldn't give to be back in his dorm now, in his own silk sheets, with her out of his mind, with her out of the same room as him for goodness sake.

"Not everyone's like you, Weasely, some of us aren't itching to run back to Potter," he said, mustering all the disdain he could, a task usually came to him much more easily than right at this second.

"Listen up, ferret boy," Ginny whispered fiercely, suddenly sitting up it bed and turning to face him. "You don't know anything about me, alright? Would you shut your mouth when it comes to things you have no clue about? Just because you seem to have some kind of unhealthy obsession with Harry," she finished, her body relaxing against the propped up pillow.

Draco was quite impressed and smiled to himself in the dark. But as the smiled faded, he turned to Ginny, leaning on his arm.

"I know more than you think I know, Ginny Weasely," he said mysteriously, looking at her. It's ok, he thought, this isn't dangerous, and it's not wrong. Not yet.

"Oh yeah, like what? The problem with you is Malfoy, you're see-through, you only make comments like that so-"

"I hear you at night, Ginny ..." he stopped. He didn't know what made him say it. What in the big, miserable, unfair world had made him call her Ginny? Bloody hell ...

He could see she didn't know what to do, or what to say. It was sleep deprivation that had made him say it, surely. Perhaps he was only dreaming, and any minute now one of her cries would jolt him out of a half-sleep. This was why he couldn't let himself dream, because his dreams would melt into his reality and in the end he wouldn't know the difference. Draco looked back at Ginny's bed and saw her still propped up, looking down at her hands. Just a dream. Only a dream, she wasn't really there and all he had to do was turn away ...

Facing a row of dark, empty beds beside him, the world seemed bleak and empty. Only a dream, he thought. If it was reality, he reasoned, she would have bitten back, or laughed, and he would not have said that in the first place anyway. Only a dream ... something was heavy on his eyelids, he wanted to sleep ... but he was already asleep, because it was a dream, wasn't it? Draco felt cool air envelope him and tugged on the covers - why didn't they make these blankets bigger?

He tried to pull again, when he suddenly felt her there. He felt the weight of her body on the bed and strands of her hair tickling his neck - her breathing now magnified a thousand times in his ear. Only a dream ...He felt her stretch the covers back and her leg touching his, making his head swim. Could a dream feel like this? His body tensed as he felt her arms tentatively weave around him and rest on his chest, her head leaning against his back. Draco wanted to see her, to see if she was real. Her fingernails, which he could feel through his shirt on his chest, were distracting him into completely losing concentration and he struggled to stay on top of consciousness. This was stupid, it was ridiculous ... he felt his own long fingers thread themselves between Ginny's smaller ones, his hands closing down on hers. It was simple, and he didn't even know if it was real ... but it was enough.

"Ginny ..." he whispered, barely daring to make a sound.

"Shh," she breathed beside his ear, and leaned closer to him.

They could both sleep peacefully tonight, Draco knew. And for a moment, he thought he could never be this content again - but even in his sleep, the familiar smirk returned. Well, Ginny could make him a lot happier, in more ways ... later, perhaps, in reality. For now though, dreaming and real life had bled into one, and Draco was reluctantly ecstatic about it.