Disclaimer: HP = not by me.

Please don't get me rescued
-Rescued by Jack's Mannequin

Author's Note: I wasn't sure if I wanted a one-shot or a full-fledged story at first because I wasn't really sure of my own competence. But this story has been on my mind lately, and my curiosity is piqued (which also means that my writer's block is due any time now). But, here goes.

Chapter 2:

I was dying.

Drowning in a pool of thick warmth, I could only register that one thought. I contemplated my options, but it seemed like I couldn't think clearly, my brain muddled by the water. Treading water and breaking through to the surface seemed so tedious. Instead of relying on its survival instincts, my brain rejected leaving the haven here. Here. Here where it is warm and secure and oh-so-deliciously-comfy.

So instead of living, I calmly, even contentedly breathed the surrounding water into my lungs. I let it fill me, relishing the warmth that rushed into every corner and crevice of my being.

Light suddenly spilled into the pool, illuminating all my surroundings. I tried to shield my eyes from the brilliance, and eventually, after some time, my eyes slightly adjusted. And I could see in the grey. It neither shocked nor overwhelmed me when I found that I was not alone.

He was undoubtedly and irrevocably an angel. And therefore, I was completely and utterly crushed. Because the light that filled the pool was emanating from him. He was too bright, too beautiful, too perfect, and I was blinded. I wanted him but he wasn't mine to have. I needed to be his and he could never want me.

The sunlight streamed in through the open curtain, covering both the bed and the girl inside with a bath of golden light. Fully rested, but still seeking the comfort of my soft duvet, I stretched my limbs slightly and turned to snuggle deeper in the pillow beside me.

Too late, my instincts frantically kicked in and I remembered that I had spent the night on the couch. I internally braced myself for the fall towards the carpet below, but it never came. Instead, I landed softly on a pillow, sinking into its depths of soft feathers.

I was both relieved and disappointed as I sat up in my bed. Normally, I didn't remember my dreams at all, but what I thought was last night was obviously a figment of my imagination. Sometime in the middle of the night, I must have given up on waiting and went to bed. I was disappointed with myself and my lack of patience and almost as if my mind thought I deserved some kind of punishment, it started torturing me. What if he had come back 30 minutes after I had gone to bed? What if it had been as close as 15? I should have waited at least that longer, just to make sure. But even if that, the minutes would always drag on longer to be 15 minutes after that and 15 minutes after that. It was an endless cycle of desperation, and in the end, I would only be left disappointed.

With my sleepiness and comfort gone at my abrupt realization, I no longer wanted to silently lie in bed. I wanted to make up for what I had thought was a particularly daring act on my part by doing something real.

I bounded out of my bed and charged to the bathroom. Kicking the door open with one foot and doing a little twirl with the other I realized that I felt rejuvenated. Last night's dream was a sign, some kind of message sent from the heavens that basically told me to get a move on with my life. And although I scoffed in Professor Trelawney's class, I believed that it was long time that I got over him. I was done waiting for Draco Malfoy to get it through his thick (but oh so adorable) head that my feelings for him were way beyond platonic. And in the end, who was I kidding? If something is doomed from the start, no amount of happiness can make up for the pain that is caused when that happiness is so violently ripped away.

But as usual, just when I had worked up enough nerve and self-respect to give up on my silly little crush, and finally begin to live in reality, Fate had something totally different in mind. Because when I kicked open that door, fully expecting to be kicking open a metaphorical door of my life, life decided (not so metaphorically) to swing right back and knock me senseless.

The force from my kick had rebounded strangely off of something else that was already in the bathroom, something that muttered a low curse. My eyes widened in fright and realization when as my brain frantically connected the dots that a) I had just kicked the door open into the very thing I was trying to kick out and b) the door was coming back for revenge. I only had the small amount of time to shut my eyes and lament Hogwarts's choice of having swinging doors before the door hit me full in the face and I successfully splayed myself across the floor.

Groaning, I gingerly rubbed the bump on my forehead and heard a muted chuckle. I lifted myself to see none other than Draco Malfoy, using one hand to rub the bump on his own head while using the other to muffle his laughter. He was laughing at my Hello Kitty pajamas. Quickly, I picked myself up and stalked my way to the bathroom, stopping just once to icily glare at Draco before transfiguring the swinging door into a normal one with a heavy duty lock. I was just ready to slam this door in his smirking face before I heard his silky voice drawl out, "I haven't washed yet, and I'm not clever with spells like you, so kindly don't use all the warm water, love."

Blushing down to my toes because he complimented my intelligence and called me "love" in the same sentence, I managed a squeak of compliance before I started my shower. As I stared mindlessly at the cool tile while water cascaded down my back, I contemplated 3 things: how I was furiously angry at Draco for laughing at my pajamas, how my plan had managed to spectacularly fail itself when it had only just begun, and how even through all this, I was still smiling like an idiot.