Bridging the Gap

Chapter One - The Dream

Dreams. They come and go, sometimes with warnings, sometimes with desires, sometimes with answers, sometimes with lies, and sometimes with no real purpose that the mortal mind can truly perceive. They can be scorned as nightmares, embraced as the future, or lost in confusion and denial.

Sometimes they tell us a truth so deep, so ingrained, so painfully hidden and yet so obvious that it cannot be seen. Dreams can tell so much, and yet there is so much, also, that they can hide. And this can also be lost in the hasty morning grogginess.

So how is it that we can perceive what dreams carry with them? How do we, mortals still, understand that which no mortal mind can? We can't. But we can try, and hindsight is always 20/20.

~*~

Harry was dreaming, which was not unusual since he was asleep. Harry's dreams told him things of the past, the present, and the future, of desires and fears, just as any boy, muggle or wizard, dreamed. He had seen the coming of Voldemort, his parents' death over again, dreamed of parsletongue and the Dursley's. Most of these dreams had been lost to the hazy morning minutes between sleeping and waking, just before his favorite breakfast of chocolate chip pancakes with sweet syrup and strawberries, which Dobby could be counted on to supply. Some dreams stayed with him, usually only in part, and had helped him defeat the Dark Lord late in his sixth year. Some he had dared not think of, many more were lost.

But right then the dream was not lost. It was with him, and he lived it.

It was no secret to any student who attended Hogwarts school that Harry Potter hated Draco Malfoy. He was the worst bloody prick the Gryffindors had yet to face. He was arrogant, blonde, a Slytherin - that in itself was a fate worse than death to Gryffindors, who shuddered at the thought - perfect in potions, insulting, degrading, and to top it all off his father was a Death Eater.

None of these facts, however, took away from the fact that Draco Malfoy was incredibly sexy and handsome. He had the whole of Hogwarts' female population lusting after him, and a good portion of the males as well. He made heads turn without trying, and drew attention to himself. Image-wise, he was perfect.

It was the moment that he opened that perfect mouth and showed his abysmal personality that all that perfect image got shot to hell on the express train.

So it was no surprise to Harry that the person that he was arguing so heatedly with was his much despised enemy. In fact, as soon as he realized this, his part in the argument increased, causing the tensions between himself and dream-Draco to rise.

Malfoy had never become a Death Eater, and Harry had never been able to figure out if that was because he hadn't wanted to, hadn't been old enough, or couldn't bear the thought of kissing Voldemort's arse for brownie points. That small fact, however, did not keep the insults from flying from Harry's mouth, accusing his enemy of the worst.

And then, shockingly, there were hands in his hair, lips on his own, and a body nearly flush against his. Harry caught the waist of his - what? Assailant? Lover? - to catch his balance, realizing that, in the course of a mere second, his dream had changed. This was not odd, Harry thought, because dreams could change all the time. Desires, fears, the future, all were constantly changing. Even the present changed, only the past would remain constant until the end of time.

Harry kissed the body against him with the same heated passion he had fought with. His eyes were closed, but he could still feel his partner's soft lips and firm body. The body was male, and definitely aroused, but this fact did not shock the Boy Who Lived, because the moment simply felt so right, so utterly...perfect. Harry's eyes were closed, and he dared not open them, dared not look to see who this person, this boy, this dream-love was. He would not break the moment, for dreams were fleeting things and he did not want to lose this.

And then the boy that stood before him spoke. It was only one word, but it was tender, and pleading. Harry opened his eyes to the dream-world, but the boy was gone, and only Harry remained. One word echoed around the never-ending darkness that surrounding him, a voice that he could not yet place reverberating off the not-quite-there walls of pitch black.

"Help."

~*~

Harry slowly made his way back into the world of the waking. He reached out, searching for...something. He couldn't remember what it was, but it was important. Very important. Harry knew that he had to do something right away -

And then all traces of the lingering dream vanished. Harry Potter grabbed his glasses off of the nightstand that stood next to his bed, yawning as he placed them rightfully on his face. This dream had vanished as had so many others, and Harry was not worried for its absence.

Stretching as he stood, the Boy Who Lived grabbed his school robes and stumbled his way to the school showers, much nicer than anything that the Dursley's had allowed him to use over the years. The warm water greeted him gently as it washed the sleep from his eyes and cleared the fog from his mind. After washing, he dressed, and went down to the Great Hall for breakfast. He knew that Ron and Hermione would already be there, as Harry was almost always the last of the trio to wake. Neville had still been asleep as he had passed his bed, the other Gryffindors he could not be sure of, nor did he honestly care that much.

The Great Hall was filled with students still sleep-groggy when he entered. Hermione had her nose in a book - How to Successfully Master Transfiguration was the novel of the day - and Ron looked just about ready to fall asleep again. "G'morning," Harry greeted as he sat down, coffee and pancakes instantly appearing before him. Within a moment the coffee before him disappeared and was replaced with a steaming mug of hot cocoa, and Harry could just see Dobby berating whatever house elf had 'dared to give the great Harry Potter coffee! Dobby knows Harry Potter doesn't like coffee, sir!' Two muffled replies from the other side of the table answered his greeting, drifting across the table. Harry knew that Ron wasn't much of a morning person and that Hermione was doing some extra reading, so gods forbid anyone interrupt her, so he didn't push for any more of a response from his friends, instead focusing on his meal and allowing his mind to clear. He forced himself to recall the potion that Snape had assigned for reading the night before, as he had the misfortune to have Potions class first on this dreary Tuesday, a class that was doubled with Slytherin.

He wsa down to Moth's Wings when Draco Malfoy walked into the Hall, flanked by his two ever-present bodyguards, Crabbe and Goyle. It wasn't odd for him to notice the blonde's arrival, Harry had been keeping an eye out for the blonde accident waiting to happen ever since the incident just before the sorting ceremony, although most of the details had most certainly slipped over the years. It wasn't really that Harry harbored any ill feelings towards the pale boy at the time, but more the fact that he had gone out of his way to insult the very first friend that really drove the green-eyed rival to denying the hand that had been offered in friendship.

Everything had gone downhill from there.

Something pulled at Harry, nearly begging him to remember it, but the dark-haired seeker could not for the life of him figure out what it was. He didn't try too hard, either, instead continuing to form the list of ingrediants for the sleep potion he had read about last night in his head. He had left off at Moth's Wings.

~*~

On the other side of the room, a pale blonde Slytherin was gingerly sitting down at his house table. None of the students that surrounded him noticed anything unusual about the odd movement, though, mostly because it wasn't odd. Draco didn't mind this, however. Truth be told he expected it. He neither greeted nor spoke to the boys and girls around him as he sipped his morning tea and pushed around syrupy bits of pancake. Instead, Draco's allowed his thoughts to wander to the dream he had been having before he had been...woken up.

It was a good dream, that was for certain, even if he couldn't remember how it had started. He doubted very much that he would remember any of it by the end of the day, but for the moment he did remember the kissing, and that was enough to get him through breakfast. And oh what sweet kissing it had been, too! Not at all rough or violent, but soft, and lingering. He would savor it for as long as he could.

Since he had been late for breakfast, it wasn't long before the bell for classes to begin rang dully throughout the hall.

It was annoying, really.

Dumbledore had cast the spell for the mealtime bells the previous summer, the summer of the Golden Boy's seventh year, and his as well. It had been shocking for the first few days, but now that the school was into its second week Draco found it just a tad bit on the muggle side, and a bloody nuisance to boot.

At least they didn't have a bell for every class.

Draco rose from his seat not having eaten a bite, not that anyone noticed his lack of appetite. Crabbe and Goyle had spent the time stuffing their faces as fast as they could, while no one else had found the blonde worthy of their attention. Slytherins, as a whole, watched out for each other, and made sure that every other Slytherin had at least one house mate backing him or her. Not so with Draco Malfoy, who had once been named the second most doable guy in school, Harry Potter being the first on the list. At least, it wasn't that way anymore. He used to be able to depend on his housemates for anything, no matter what it was that he needed, but now, thanks to the combined efforts of his two 'bodyguards' and his father, the entire house avoided him like the plague whenever possible. They'd rather he'd be partnered with a Gryffindor - thought to be the scum of the wizarding world - than with one of them. It wasn't that the two lumbering oafs ever did much, either; they simply had to threaten to do something terrible and the others would back down. Blaise had stood by Draco the longest, but even he could only take so much.

Draco was now well and truly alone.

~End Chapter One~