Authors Note: I don't know if
the title has anything to do with anything yet, it just seemed like a
good idea at the time XD oh and the usual, I don't own the characters
or anything
---
I groped blindly in front of me, searching for some end to this seemingly infinite blackness. I could tell that my hands were trembling, and tried desperately to pull myself together.
Where the hell was I?
It was not long before my eyes fastened on a thin white light. As I approached it, the light assumed the shape of the small crack of a slightly-open door. I pressed one eye carefully against the crack and peered into the bright room.
"He's my son!"
My eyes were still painfully adjusting to the light, making it impossible to see who the voice belonged to. I recognized it, but I had no idea where I had heard it before. I heard a second voice, one I didn't know, raised in anger.
"I don't care if he's the son of You-Know-Who himself! We need a boy who is easy to access, and your son Draco is just that!"
I suppressed an astonished gasp. The familiar voice it was...
"Lucius, you and I both know who will win this war. It will be our Lord."
"Yes, yes, I do know that, but..."
"Our greatest threat is Albus Dumbledoor. You know this."
"Of course."
"And who better to provide us with the necessary information than one of his own students? It's the perfect opportunity, Lucius, and I do not intend to let it slip."
My brain was working on over-drive. Malfoy was going to get involved in some kind of Death-Eater's plot? Against Dumbledoor?
"I know all of this, but the consequences if Draco is caught are phenomenal! I know I must fulfill my duties to the Master, but I cannot let my son get involved."
"Do you realise the consequences of this treachery?"
"I do not doubt that the Dark Lord will prevail, my only doubt is in my son's ability to perform this task. He is only a sixth-year, after all."
"He has the blood of the Malfoy's running through his veins, does he not?"
"He has that."
"Then it is on his head that we lay our hopes."
I shivered, and wrapped my arms around myself. How had I got here? What kind of plot was this? I had barely the time to ask these questions when the light from the room grew blinding, and enveloped me completely.
---
I sat bold upright in bed, sweating.
What the hell kind of dream was that?
I took a few deep breaths, willing myself to calm down. It was only a dream, I told myself, only a weird, sick, twisted dream.
Since when did I have dreams about Malfoy?
I shook my head to clear it, and stumbled out of bed. Thankfully, it was a weekend, so I could take my time waking up before going down to breakfast.
I blinked at myself in the bathroom mirror. Hair was bushy as always, although today my eyes were slightly red, and had dark circles beneath them. I glared at my reflection. I'd been sleeping soundly all night, dreaming or no, and yet my face was riddled with the tell-tale signs of lack of sleep. I splashed some cold water on my face and hoped the dark stains would fade quickly.
---
"Are you okay Hermione?"
I looked up sharply to see Ron staring at me with a concerned expression on his face.
"Of course. I'm fine. Why?"
"Oh. No reason. You've just been staring at that same spoonful of porridge for the last ten minutes."
I glanced back down at my soggy bowl of porridge. I knew I needed to eat something to make up for my apparent lack of sleep, but the cold porridge was certainly not holding much in the way of appeal. I pushed the bowl away and made to stand up.
No sooner had I stood, I heard a familiar sneering voice behind me.
"Oh, look at this! Hogwarts food too good for the mudblood, is it?"
I whirled instantly at the insult, but Ron interrupted me.
"He's not worth it, Hermione."
Even though I knew Malfoy really wasn't worth my trouble, I was still sorely tempted to sink my fist into his ugly, smirking face. It was as I was glaring darkly at him that I noticed that he, too, had large dark stains beneath both of his eyes. They were also red-rimmed, as though he had been crying.
On any other occasion, the idea of Malfoy crying for whatever reason would have delighted me, but my dream from the night before had left me with vivid memories.
"What are you staring at, Granger?"
I blinked myself out of my stupor and deepened my glare.
"Nothing important."
I brushed past him and made my way back up to Gryffindor tower, but all the way there I couldn't help but wonder what could have made Draco Malfoy cry.
---
I groped blindly in front of me, searching for some end to this seemingly infinite blackness. I could tell that my hands were trembling, and tried desperately to pull myself together.
Where the hell was I?
It was not long before my eyes fastened on a thin white light. As I approached it, the light assumed the shape of the small crack of a slightly-open door. I pressed one eye carefully against the crack and peered into the bright room.
"He's my son!"
My eyes were still painfully adjusting to the light, making it impossible to see who the voice belonged to. I recognized it, but I had no idea where I had heard it before. I heard a second voice, one I didn't know, raised in anger.
"I don't care if he's the son of You-Know-Who himself! We need a boy who is easy to access, and your son Draco is just that!"
I suppressed an astonished gasp. The familiar voice it was...
"Lucius, you and I both know who will win this war. It will be our Lord."
"Yes, yes, I do know that, but..."
"Our greatest threat is Albus Dumbledoor. You know this."
"Of course."
"And who better to provide us with the necessary information than one of his own students? It's the perfect opportunity, Lucius, and I do not intend to let it slip."
My brain was working on over-drive. Malfoy was going to get involved in some kind of Death-Eater's plot? Against Dumbledoor?
"I know all of this, but the consequences if Draco is caught are phenomenal! I know I must fulfill my duties to the Master, but I cannot let my son get involved."
"Do you realise the consequences of this treachery?"
"I do not doubt that the Dark Lord will prevail, my only doubt is in my son's ability to perform this task. He is only a sixth-year, after all."
"He has the blood of the Malfoy's running through his veins, does he not?"
"He has that."
"Then it is on his head that we lay our hopes."
I shivered, and wrapped my arms around myself. How had I got here? What kind of plot was this? I had barely the time to ask these questions when the light from the room grew blinding, and enveloped me completely.
---
I sat bold upright in bed, sweating.
What the hell kind of dream was that?
I took a few deep breaths, willing myself to calm down. It was only a dream, I told myself, only a weird, sick, twisted dream.
Since when did I have dreams about Malfoy?
I shook my head to clear it, and stumbled out of bed. Thankfully, it was a weekend, so I could take my time waking up before going down to breakfast.
I blinked at myself in the bathroom mirror. Hair was bushy as always, although today my eyes were slightly red, and had dark circles beneath them. I glared at my reflection. I'd been sleeping soundly all night, dreaming or no, and yet my face was riddled with the tell-tale signs of lack of sleep. I splashed some cold water on my face and hoped the dark stains would fade quickly.
---
"Are you okay Hermione?"
I looked up sharply to see Ron staring at me with a concerned expression on his face.
"Of course. I'm fine. Why?"
"Oh. No reason. You've just been staring at that same spoonful of porridge for the last ten minutes."
I glanced back down at my soggy bowl of porridge. I knew I needed to eat something to make up for my apparent lack of sleep, but the cold porridge was certainly not holding much in the way of appeal. I pushed the bowl away and made to stand up.
No sooner had I stood, I heard a familiar sneering voice behind me.
"Oh, look at this! Hogwarts food too good for the mudblood, is it?"
I whirled instantly at the insult, but Ron interrupted me.
"He's not worth it, Hermione."
Even though I knew Malfoy really wasn't worth my trouble, I was still sorely tempted to sink my fist into his ugly, smirking face. It was as I was glaring darkly at him that I noticed that he, too, had large dark stains beneath both of his eyes. They were also red-rimmed, as though he had been crying.
On any other occasion, the idea of Malfoy crying for whatever reason would have delighted me, but my dream from the night before had left me with vivid memories.
"What are you staring at, Granger?"
I blinked myself out of my stupor and deepened my glare.
"Nothing important."
I brushed past him and made my way back up to Gryffindor tower, but all the way there I couldn't help but wonder what could have made Draco Malfoy cry.