Harry couldn’t sleep; it had been a week since Hermione had brought up the defence class, and it was all he could think about. He was thinking about lesson plans, about who might join, about whether or not keeping the name was a good idea, and finally, about whether or not   any   of this was a good idea. He’d tossed and turned for a good hour, before he’d given up and taken himself down to the common room. The fire had burnt out, and so he reignited it with a quick incendio, before slumping down onto the sofa, and resigning himself to a long evening awake, and alone. He wished he and Draco shared dormitories - he knew that speaking to him would make him feel better, and if Grimmauld Place had been anything to go by, he thought Draco would have been strangely accommodating of having his sleep disturbed.