Summary:

Alternate 7th year at Hogwarts – compliant with books 1-6
Hermione Granger is having very disturbing dreams. She never sees anything of her pursuer except the murderous, bright eyes before she wakes up terrified beyond explanation. When she happens across the owner of the haunting eyes in Hogwarts, belonging to none other than Draco Malfoy, her year takes a turn for the worse. Draco shares the dream, and both are sure that something terrible will happen if the predator ever catches the prey.

This story is rated M for strong language and violence.

She ran into the forest, robes whipping around her ankles, snagging on the low brush and thorns, but she didn't stop. She couldn't. She tore deeper and deeper, chest heaving, throat burning, lungs laboring to breathe, but she didn't stop. Her legs ached burned and she panted in terrified, uneven bursts of breath, but she didn't stop. She couldn't. He was coming, and she had to get away if she wanted to live. She didn't understand how she knew this, but she knew that she must not be caught. Running as fast as she could, jumping over branches and bushes alike, and using her dirty sleeves to wipe the tears out of her eyes so she could see where she was going. She could hear footsteps running lightly behind her. They had a confidence with the forest that she did not, and she knew He would catch her soon. Blubbering, her heart pounding hard and fast, she ran until the moonlight was filtered out completely by the trees of the Dark Forest, and all was pitch black.

She knew He could have caught her ages ago. She knew that He was just toying with her, as a cat might play with a mouse before delivering the final blow. The sounds of His footsteps teased her, dancing on one side, then prancing on the other. Still she ran, stumbling now, unable to see much of anything in front of her, until a branch managed to wrap itself around her foot, and she tumbled down among the thorns and the dirt and the moldy leaves, gasping as she went. This was it. This was the end. The footsteps that continued after hers slowed until her pursuer was at a calm walk, coming closer to her. A slow, steady walk, that she knew was meant to intimidate her. Crying, she tried to suck in a deep breath to prepare her for what would surely be her demise. Still her lungs and her heart labored, and she made a decision to turn and face the man that was going to kill her. She would not die lying tangled on the forest floor, crying all over her long sleeves. Shaking from head to foot, she wiped her eyes once more before she stood and turned defenseless to face Him, but He was closer than she thought, and all she was met with was a pair of great, big eyes. Hauntingly beautiful, silver and grey orbs as bright as if the moon was shining directly onto them, but angrier than any eyes she had ever seen in her life, and unmistakably murderous.

Hermione Granger woke up screaming a high, blood-curdling scream, sweaty and tangled in her sheets, her pillows soaked with desperate and terrified tears. She thrashed about, tearing the sheets from her body to free herself. She would do anything to rid herself of the hopeless and trapped feeling that was gripping at her pounding heart. Her breath came uneven and rough, as if she really had been running for her life only seconds ago. She reached frantically for her wand just as she managed to disentangle herself. "L-l-lumos!" she stuttered, as she pushed her sweat-soaked, wiry hair out of her face with shaking hands so she could see around her. The dormitory was empty, and for that she was thankful. Staying for Christmas break with the boys had its advantages privacy-wise.

Tears continued to drip down Hermione's chin, and her bottom lip trembled. Sniffling, she lit the candles in the room so she could more easily examine it. Everything looked normal. From the neatly-made and vacant beds of her classmates, to the Gryffindor scarves and posters adorning the walls, to the clear winter night outside the tower window. Everything was as still and calm as one would expect it to be during the early hours Christmas Eve. Still, her hands shook violently, and she put her wand back on her bedside table until she could steady herself for fear of injuring herself with it. She sat on the edge of her bed and put her face in her hands, trying to concentrate on breathing to calm herself. It was that stupid dream again!

Since the beginning of Winter Break, Hermione had not gone more than a couple nights without having to relive that terrible nightmare. The first time it happened, only a day after the other girls had left for break, she had sat up shaking all night, all of her lights on, breathing hard, head pounding, and begging the sun to rise. The next day her hair hung limp, her skin looked pale and waxy, and the shadows under her eyes immediately told Harry and Ron that she hadn't slept. Though they were initially worried, they seemed to accept her initial excuse of having been up late studying ("It's Christmas, Hermione! Take a break!"). She supposed she was lucky, at least, that the dream hadn't started until break had, because it would be terribly embarrassing to have to wake up her roommates and cause more worry. Hermione was not stupid. She knew it was just a dream. She just needed to figure out how to make it stop. Still her heart raced, but her breathing had evened out somewhat, and she slowly lowered her hands from her face to sit back on her bed and try to relax.

If Lavender and Parvati had been here, Harry and Ron would surely know about her nightmares by now, and it would only worry them more. They were only dreams, but Harry had had far too many experiences with prophetic dreams to be calmed by that argument. Yes, it was best to keep them to herself for now. Her heart slowed its frantic beating with this decision, and she relaxed into her bed a bit more. As if she needed these sorts of distractions during her NEWT year. She scooted herself back under her covers and reached for her wand to wordlessly turn the lights back off in the dorm. As Head Girl, she would have to set a better example than one of being frightened by some little nightmares. What would the younger students think of her? Her eyes drooping, she suddenly remembered the vivid, terrifying eyes looking directly into her own brown ones, and her heart started pounding a little faster. Stop it! she chided herself, and she pushed the eyes from her mind. If the dreams continued past the end of the break, she would ask Madame Pomfrey for a Dreamless Sleep Draught. She would need to rest to study, after all, and she wouldn't want to disturb her roommates. With that comforting thought, Hermione managed to drift back to sleep merely an hour after waking, this time happily dreaming of a dreamless dream.

As usual, despite having had a bit of a rough night, Draco Malfoy woke bright and early. He stood and stretched, closing his eyes, cracking his back, and groaning with the effort, before observing the colossal pile of presents, all with shining green and silver wrappings and bows, piled neatly at the foot of his bed in his dormitory. Though his mother was spending the holiday in Italy (and his father still in Azkaban), he was clearly not forgotten on Christmas, and he smiled to himself as and sifted through all his gifts, generally pleased with the contents. Head Boy Blaise Zabini, the only other boy in the dormitory, slept on. Draco ignored him. He probably wouldn't wake until early afternoon, as he usually spent half the night awake doing God-knows-what. Blaise was a bit of a mystery to Draco, and Draco to him. They were cordial with one another, but both preferred their privacy.

Dressed in a brand new, perfectly tailored set of black robes, Draco made his way to the common room couch to flip though a few new books and admire his other gifts. He was confident he would be alone with his thoughts. Not many Slytherins had stayed over break, and the few that had would not wake early. He eagerly opened his first book, a thick leather-bound that detailed all of the Malfoy history and genealogy.
Demetrius Malfoy (1273-1380) managed to gain the majority of his power by murdering…
His eyes got stuck on a single word…. murdering… and his mind began to wander.

He almost murdered someone in his dream last night. Draco shuddered. This dream had been plaguing him since the beginning of break, and he was getting very tired of it. He thought he had moved past the murdering stage of his life when he refused to kill Dumbledore… hadn't he worked hard to prove himself a changed man? Hadn't he at least begun to show people that he was NOT a murderer? He was obviously NOT a murderer, or they wouldn't have agreed to let him come back to Hogwarts (albeit on a probationary level). If he was not a murderer, then why were these dreams so pleasurable to him? To be fair, he hadn't murdered the person in his dream… yet… though he had little doubt that he would if the dreams continued. The most disturbing part, though, was the absolute thrill that Dream-Draco felt as he chased this nameless, faceless, person through the forest. Well, 'faceless' wasn't completely true. He had seen her eyes. Her eyes were always large, wide, and brown. The forest was dark, but he knew the exact shade of that brown. He knew the starburst pattern of the irises perfectly, and he knew the horrified, shaking, I'm-about-to-die look that ran so deep into this person's soul, right down to her feet. And he knew that Dream-Draco loved to see this fear in the nameless girl.

Dream-Draco disturbed Real-Draco to no end. He woke up frequently, every few nights, every time he had this dream, alarmed at what he had seen. At what he had been doing. At how he and relished in the chase. It disturbed him so much, that he decided he wouldn't be able to get any reading done, as much as he would have liked to, and he sighed in frustration before he returned his things to his room. It was time for breakfast.