Hermione Granger stumbled through the door of the Leaky Cauldron early that Friday evening, barely keeping herself upright. She yawned so hugely she thought her head would split in two. With bleary eyes she looked around the dining room for her friends. Was she too early?
Across the crowded pub, she caught sight of a fiery redhead and a dreamy blonde just as a young woman's voice called her over to join them.
"Gods, Hermione. You look like shite." Ginny Weasley shook her head as Hermione walked up to their table.
"Why, thank you, Ginny. It's nice to see you too," Hermione said, stifling another yawn and rubbing one eye. "I haven't been getting much sleep lately."
Ginny took Hermione's cloak from her and tossed it haphazardly onto an empty chair. "Sit down before you fall down then," she said, firmly. "What you need is a drink." Over Hermione's protests, she hailed Tom the Bartender from across the room, holding up three fingers and shouting, "Cider, please!" Tom nodded in response and limped over to the taps to prepare three pints.
"Why haven't you been sleeping, Hermione?" Luna Lovegood asked. "You appear to be stressed. Is it work? Is it your love life?"
Hermione snorted and pulled her chair closer to the table. "What love life? I've been too busy at work to even think about dating. We've been putting together a grant proposal, but we're so short-staffed this is the first night off I've had in weeks. I've been staying up half the night working. Thank Merlin the thing is finally finished." She sighed. "So, yeah, Luna, forget dating. I haven't even had a proper snog in... in too damn long."
"It's too bad you and Ron didn't work out," Ginny mused. "I know you're just friends now, but he's always willing to snog a pretty girl."
"Yes, well," Hermione said, rolling her eyes, "unfortunately I always felt like I was kissing my brother when he and I were a couple."
A levitating tray holding three pints arrived at their table. Luna and Ginny helped themselves and each took a large gulp. Hermione took the third glass and slowly lifted it to her lips. The first taste of that cool cider was heavenly, and her resulting moan sounded nearly orgasmic.
"Wow, Hermione, that's some cider, eh? You really are gagging for it, aren't you?" Ginny asked, grinning. Hermione narrowed her eyes and kicked her friend under the table.
With a throaty chuckle Luna lifted her pint, remarking, "It seems to me like your chief problem is sexual frustration, Hermione. You need to have sex, or at least an orgasm, self-induced or otherwise."
"Merlin's beard, Luna, keep your voice down," Hermione hissed. She furtively glanced around the room, wondering if anyone had overheard their outrageous conversation. To her chagrin, she saw a group of young wizards sitting in a corner booth not far from them, all of them looking in her direction and laughing.
She groaned softly in consternation. Ginny tossed a quick glance over her shoulder and grinned. "Oh ho, Hermione, seems like you have attracted some slithery attention." She nudged her friend under the table with her toe. "Why not go over and say hello? I hear snakes are bloody good in bed."
"Ginny, hush!" Hermione whispered, and peeked again at the table of wizards.
She couldn't see everyone from her angle, but there were at least three Slytherins from her year sitting there. When they saw her looking their way, they all nudged one another. Nott and Zabini each shot her an appraising glance and made inviting motions with their pints. Hermione felt her cheeks turning pink, but she also felt a tiny bit pleased. It was a boost to the ego to be flirted with, especially when she felt so tired and bedraggled.
Then the big one turned around in his chair and she saw that it was Goyle. He sneered and made a crude motion with his tongue. Suddenly uncomfortable, she frowned and started to look away, but then a fourth young man, who'd been sitting in the shadowy corner of the booth, reached over the table and punched Goyle hard on the arm. The candlelight glinted off his blond hair and Hermione gasped in surprise. The wizard raised his eyes to meet her gaze, nodded at her, and toasted her with his glass of Firewhisky.
She couldn't believe it. Draco Malfoy had just defended her honor.
She could feel her face glowing with embarrassment and she hurriedly looked back at her own drink.
Oblivious to what had just transpired, Ginny returned to their most recent topic of conversation. "All right, so maybe you don't want to jump into the snake pit. Have you even taken any time lately to just, you know, relax yourself? That would help you sleep..."
Hermione stared at Ginny, her thoughts still focused on Malfoy. "Hmm? No, I...I haven't even thought of it, to be honest. I've been too wrapped up in work." She frowned and drained her glass, then stared into the bottom of the empty pint. "But that's a good idea, actually," she said. "I need to buy some batteries."
"Dad's mentioned batteries before. What are they?" asked Ginny, finishing her own pint. "Do they make you come?"
All mysterious Slytherin attentions momentarily forgotten, Hermione glared at her friend. Merlin, did Ginny have no filters at all? "Er, no, not by themselves." She shifted in her chair. "They are like bundles of stored energy. Muggles use them instead of magic to power all sorts of things, including, um, certain relaxation devices."
Luna pursed her lips. "You do know that batteries are infested with Flootleblatts, don't you? You shouldn't be using them, Hermione. Your wand can do nicely, though a human companion is best."
Hermione's exhausted brain was whirling. She frowned in exasperation. "What? I am not doing anything like that with my wand, thank you all the same, Luna. I'll be sure to check for, um, Fartleblortts each time I buy new batteries. Look, you two, all I really want tonight is a good night's sleep. When we are finished here, I am going straight to the apothecary to buy some Sleeping Draught."
"Well, Sleeping Draught is good in a pinch if you are simply desperate for sleep, but I still say a vibrating wand is better, and partner-induced orgasms are the most beneficial." Luna said, indicating the second round of ciders that Tom had conveniently sent their way. "That's sorted then. After we have another drink, Hermione, you and I will go into Diagon Alley to find you a potential orgasm partner."
Hermione paused, her second pint halfway to her mouth. "Er, you mean some Sleeping Draught."
Luna shrugged. "Potato, potahto," she said, sipping from her glass.
Mulpepper's Apothecary was doing brisk business that evening. Hermione glanced around the busy shop in dismay.
"Oh gods, Luna, I just want to get my potion and go home. Look at this queue!"
Luna smiled vaguely. "It won't take that long, Hermione. We can people-watch while we wait."
The bell over the door rang and someone jostled them from behind. Hermione huffed in exasperation.
"I don't want to watch people," she grumbled. Someone bumped her again and she elbowed the person without looking. "I want to go to bed."
"Well, it's a bit sudden, Granger, but I'm willing to rearrange my schedule."
Hermione whirled around at the sound of the familiar drawl. A smirking Draco Malfoy stood behind her, swaying slightly back and forth. He looked rather flushed of cheek, bright of eye, and entirely too pleased with himself. He wiggled his eyebrows. Hermione gave a surprised laugh.
"That was not an invitation, Malfoy."
"Really? What a shame. And after I protected your honor earlier, too," he replied, grinning. He leaned forward and tapped her on the nose. "You'd be in for a treat, you know."
Utterly taken aback by the silly, unexpected contact, she could only gawk at him. Was he serious? His breath was warm and smelled of Firewhisky. Ah, of course. He was obviously tipsy. That explained his flirtatiousness. She felt simultaneously relieved and disappointed.
Then his words sank in. "Wait...what?"
"Draco said you'd be in for a treat if you invited him into your bed," Luna supplied, helpfully. "I think you should do it."
"See? Loony here thinks you should do me," the intoxicated Malfoy paraphrased.
Hermione gritted her teeth, ignoring the lusty, gleeful look on his face. Instead, she spoke deliberately to Luna. "I'm not going to do any such thing, Luna. I'm here to buy a sleeping potion. Then I will go to bed so that I can get some sleep."
"Suit yourself, Hermione." Luna shook her head reproachfully. "You're a young woman with needs. Draco's a young man with wants. It seems to me the best solution is staring you in the face. Well, now that you have company, I'm going to go look for some oysters. See you later." With that, she drifted off into the depths of the shop, ignoring Hermione's protestations.
Hermione fumed. She could feel Malfoy's breath against the top of her head. Her hair was practically crackling. Was it sticking up all over the place? Probably. It always did when she was tired. Or annoyed. It most likely looked like a rat's nest from his standpoint. Damn him for being so tall. And attractive.
The queue moved. Hermione stepped forward, away from Malfoy, but he moved right along behind her, crowding a bit too close for comfort. She shot a frosty glare over her shoulder but he didn't shiver a bit. He simply seemed amused.
"Why are you here, Malfoy?" she muttered. "Did you really follow me just to annoy me?"
"I didn't come here to bother you on purpose, Granger," he replied. "I'm here on an errand. Having the chance to pester you is just a pleasant bonus." She had just turned around to retort when the line moved again. She stumbled a bit and reached out to stop herself from falling. To her surprise, Malfoy took her hand and held it securely in his own. His hand was strong and long-fingered, she noticed. Fine and dexterous. And so warm!
She could feel his other hand at the small of her back, as if to guide her forward. But instead of moving the two of them into the emptied space ahead of her, he turned her to face him. Holding her close, he leaned down and murmured in her ear, "It does add a sense of adventure to our evening, don't you think, standing here together at the apothecary? Why, someone might think we were a couple."
His lips brushed against her earlobe and lingered there. The hairs stood up on the back of her neck. She shivered, and his arms tightened around her in response. He began rocking slightly from side to side and started to hum a tune. She just had time to recognize it as Tchaikovsky's "Sleeping Beauty Waltz", before he started to dance.
Round and round they went in their little cleared space in the queue, totally ignoring the disgruntled shop patrons behind them. Hermione clung awkwardly to Malfoy at first but soon began to enjoy their gentle, graceful movements and relaxed in his arms. She found herself smiling. It was almost like gliding on ice, he was so smooth.
"Did you know that I've wanted to dance with you since our fourth year Yule Ball, Granger? You dance as well as I've dreamed you would."
After another few moments, he brought them to a halt, swaying quite a lot more than earlier. The exercise had moved the alcohol into his system faster. He grinned at her like a soppy fool and slurred, "You're boo'ful, Grangerer. Have you ever snogged a Slytherin? No? Well, you don't know what you're missing." He puckered up and leaned toward her.
"What?" She laughed incredulously, putting a hand over his mouth to stop him. "Draco Malfoy, you are drunk. Keep dreaming!"
He sighed through his nose, his grey eyes sorrowful, before licking her palm with his tongue.
"Eww!" she shrieked, jerking her hand away.
Malfoy smirked and gestured with his chin toward the sales counter. "Yer up, Granger."
She glared at his handsome, tipsy face and wiped her hand on the front of his robe before turning to Mr. Mulpepper.
"Yes, miss, how may I help you and your husband this evening?" The wizard asked her in a polite but bored tone. Mr. Mulpepper's bald head shone in the candlelight, and his face was as frumpy as his robe. It was obvious he wanted to be done for the day.
She heard Malfoy snort behind her, and she stammered, "Oh no, he's not my husband. We're not even dating! He's just...I mean...we're old schoolmates but...I just..."
"Beg pardon, miss. I was mistaken. It was your intimate dancing that led me astray. How may I help you?"
Hermione fought the rising exasperation in her chest and said quickly, "I just need a sleeping potion, please. Do you have any Sleeping Draught?"
Mulpepper pursed his lips. "Oh, dear. I'm afraid I don't, miss. There's been a bit of a run on it you see, miss, what with the full moon and all. I have a new batch brewing, but it won't be ready for a while."
"Oh, no," Hermione groaned. "I really need to get a good night's sleep tonight. Don't you have anything that might help?" She was not relishing the possibility of venturing into Muggle London for some sort of sleep aid.
The apothecary took in her desperate expression and paused in sympathetic thought, and then he rummaged through the shelves underneath his counter. "Ah. Well, now, miss, you may still be in luck." He pulled out a rather dilapidated cardboard box that he placed on the counter. "I have here my last two bottles of Dreamless Sleep Potion. Now, I'm not-"
"I'll take one!" Hermione interrupted. She reached into the box and grabbed one of the dusty vials. "How much?"
Mulpepper said it was two Galleons for the bottle. "But miss, as I was sayin', I'm not certain how long they've been sitting there-"
"I don't care, Mr. Mulpepper; I know your products are always of good quality. Thank you, Mr. Mulpepper. Goodbye!" Hermione burbled before making an about face, intending to dash for the exit.
She came nose to chest with Draco Malfoy, who'd been standing there the entire time, listening with a rapt expression on his pointy, inebriated, attractive face.
"Leaving so soon, Granger?" he asked, raising an eyebrow. "We'd just gotten started."
"Yes. I'm going home, Malfoy. To bed. Alone!" she blurted before he could say something saucy. "Um, thanks for the dance. It was...fun." With that, she bolted.
Just before she left the shop, she thought she heard Malfoy say, "Don't put that box away, good sir. I'll have what she's having." But then she didn't care, because she was outside and could Apparate home. Soon she could put her confusing feelings about Draco Malfoy away and sink into the blissfully deep, dreamless sleep that awaited her.
Later that night, Hermione found herself in a long, opulent hallway lined with ornately-framed portraits of wealthy-looking wizards and witches.
Where was she? She took a step forward and wobbled a bit. Looking down at her feet, she saw that they were encased in golden stiletto pumps. They looked lovely with her sparkling red, strapless evening gown, which was slit up one side and gathered at the top of her thigh with an embroidered golden lion rampant. She felt quite sexy in the outfit, though she wondered where it had come from. She would never have chosen to wear shoes quite that daring, at least not while awake.
"I must be dreaming," she decided aloud. "Maybe it wasn't a Dreamless Sleep Potion after all."
She made her way carefully down the hall, looking at the portraits with interest. The moving paintings all looked back at her with varying states of incredulity. Some of them whispered among themselves. She finally asked a portrait of a young woman with fair hair and alabaster skin where she was and why she was here. The painting tittered. "Why, you're here for your Betrothal Ball, miss, though you are a bit early. Didn't the house-elves meet you at the manor's Apparition Alcove?" She tut-tutted before pointing down the hall in the direction Hermione had been walking. "Keep going that way and enter the fifth door on the right, miss. That will take you to the ballroom." She gave Hermione an appraising once-over. "My, aren't you a pretty one? That's great-great-grandmama's ring you're wearing, you know. It looks lovely with your coloring. Our family has always had good taste."
Startled, Hermione raised her hands and realized she was wearing a diamond and emerald ring on her left ring finger. A Betrothal Ball? Her Betrothal Ball? What in Godric's name was her mind dreaming up for her? Befuddled, she thanked the painted woman, who was still giggling a great deal, and followed her directions. The buzz from the portraits grew even louder as she passed, but she dismissed them, intent on finding out just whose home this manor house was.
She counted the doors carefully and opened the one the portrait had indicated, slipping inside quickly and shutting the door behind her. She leaned back against it and breathed a sigh of relief, before realizing what sort of room she was in. It wasn't a ballroom at all, but a bedroom. "Did I miscount after all?" she asked herself as she looked around.
The furniture was made of old, dark wood and was rather ornate. The huge four-poster bed was mounded with extremely comfortable-looking blankets, duvets, and pillows. The room had a distinct green and silver décor. There was a fire crackling pleasantly in the fireplace. Hermione smiled when she saw that the walls were covered in heavily-laden bookshelves. She liked this room, whomever it belonged to. Hanging on the door of the large wardrobe nearby were some formal robes and a black highwayman cloak with a high, forest green collar. It was trimmed in silver and a snake-shaped silver brooch adorned the front.
She'd just run her hand over the rich, heavy fabric, marveling at its warmth, when a sound from the other side of the room drew her attention. A previously-unnoticed door had opened, emitting steam, and Hermione realized it must be an adjoining bathroom. A surge of panic rose in her chest and she quickly looked for a hiding place. Before she could move, however, a tall, damp, and very nude man stepped into the bedroom, towel-drying his hair vigorously. Hermione couldn't see his face, but that wasn't what her eyes were drawn to at that particular moment.
He was long and lean, pale but very fit. He had a lovely set of abs, she noted, and a well-defined V that drew one's focus downward, straight as an arrow, to behold his-
"Oh my," she squeaked, unable to look away.
The man looked up at the sound, the towel clutched behind his head in both hands. When he saw her, he broke into a sexy grin and let the towel fall away. His shaggy, ivory-colored hair stuck out damply in all directions. "Well, well, well, Hermione," said Draco Malfoy. "You're here early." He picked up his wand from the nightstand and used it to cast a drying charm over his body and his hair, which immediately styled itself perfectly. Then he put the wand down and sauntered towards her, seemingly not bothered one iota by his nudity.
Hermione's mind reeled. Did Malfoy just call her by her given name? It was only when he stopped in front of her and drew her into his arms that she snapped to attention. She looked into his silvery eyes, seeking an explanation for this strange situation, but then he kissed her, and her focus immediately fuzzed out in pleasure.
Oh my, she thought, as she slid her arms around his neck. I have been missing something. Dear Morgana, this man can kiss!
Malfoy's lips were warm and insistent. His kisses were gentle but relentless, and as Hermione melted further against his chest, he took the opportunity to run the tip of his tongue over her lower lip, tickling her until she opened for him. He held her tightly, one hand low on her back. She realized he was rocking his pelvis against her belly. He was definitely enjoying their embrace.
She pulled her face back from his slightly in order to look at him more clearly. His eyes were bright, his cheeks were flushed. His lips were curled in a sexy, half-open smile. A small sound of confusion must have escaped her, because the confident smile became uncertain.
"What is it, sweetheart? You look like you've been Confunded."
"I...I can't quite believe all of this," she stammered. "I mean... you and I, Mal-Draco...we're...we're engaged to be married? It's all rather...unexpected."
"'Unexpected'? Merlin's beard, of course it was unexpected. Malfoys are never predictable. You know that. First, I fell in love with you, as improbable as that may have been, then I danced around you for years before asking you out, and then, finally, I found the nerve to ask you to marry me - a scant six months after we'd been officially dating. And you said 'yes'!" Draco smiled a self-satisfied smile. "It was, indeed, 'unexpected'."
Then his face fell abruptly and he asked, "You aren't getting cold feet...are you?"
He looked so handsome yet vulnerable in that moment it took Hermione's breath away. Suddenly, none of it mattered. She stopped analyzing the situation. If her brain wanted her to dream about a hot, naked Draco Malfoy being hopelessly in love with her, who was she to argue?
She smiled up at him. "No, no cold feet here. I don't even have tepid toes. It's like a dream, Draco, and I wouldn't change a thing." She twined her fingers in the hair at the nape of his neck and pressed her lips to his once more.
She felt him smile against her mouth before he deepened the kiss, and in very little time, she was writhing against him, trying to get closer. It felt so good.
Draco hummed. He slid one hand up her back and began to slowly unzip her dress. Hermione's breath quickened. The gown loosened, and when the zipper was fully opened Draco stepped away from her, allowing the garment to fall to the floor in a puddle around her feet.
As the cool air hit her body, she realized for the first time that she wasn't wearing a bra, nor did she seem to be wearing knickers. All she had on was a garter belt and stockings. Her brain, it seemed, had a kinky side. She blushed, wanting to cover herself, but Draco was holding her hands in his. Hesitantly, she looked up and felt a jolt of passion flash through her. The expression on his face was unmistakable. He wanted her. His heated gaze raked over her body and he licked his lips. Then he reached out, picked her up, and carried her to the bed.
"Draco," she began, her nerves tingling, "don't we have a ball to think about?"
"Hermione," he replied, giving her a lopsided grin. "We're going to have our own ball, right here and now."
He climbed onto the bed to kneel beside her. His fully erect cock bobbed freely as he did so, and she took in its size and shape with growing desire. It looked absolutely perfect and she wanted to touch it, so she reached for him with every intention of finding out what it felt like.
Then Draco's hand slid its way up one of her stocking-clad thighs, his fingers feathering lightly over that most intimate place between them, and she once again lost focus. "Oh, Draco," was all she could manage to say as he explored her folds with exquisite slowness.
Her questing hand came to rest on his leg. She raised her hips slightly and he slid a finger inside her, making a noise of approval. "You're so hot and wet already, sweetness," he murmured, and a second finger joined the first. He chuckled. "So ready for me."
Hermione managed to grasp his shaft at last. She smiled in satisfaction at his answering groan. She hefted the weight of it in her palm (just right!) and began to stroke him as slowly he was exploring her. "Mmm, so ready for me," she teased.
He grunted, but wouldn't stop tantalizing her with his fingers. He upped the ante by leaning over and suckling her nipple, nibbling it gently and soothing it in turns. She gasped and wriggled, but kept pumping him at the same speed. Soon, Draco muttered, "Ah, gods," and moved to cover her with his body. He braced himself with his arms and leaned down to kiss her, his cock probing between her legs. Her hands clutched at his biceps and she tried to help him along by raising her hips in offering.
"Oh, yeah," he gasped, as his cock finally found her core and he thrust home. "Gods, Hermione, you're so tight!" He remained buried deep inside her, unmoving, and kissed her again.
She kissed him back, but the feeling of him inside her was indescribably intense and she found herself pushing against him. "Please, Draco. Oh please, move!"
He obliged, pulling out almost all the way before plunging back inside her. They moaned together and she wrapped her legs high around his waist. Her golden shoes, still on her feet, glittered in the light from the fireplace. "Yes!" she cried, and she moved with him in rhythm, gasping and groaning as he thrust into her over and over again.
"Hermione Granger...my lioness," he panted in her ear. Her breasts rubbed deliciously against his chest. Draco slid his hands underneath her buttocks and kneaded them, gripping her firmly as he filled her. The tilt of her hips let him stimulate her clit with just the right amount of pressure. She felt an orgasm building inside and she opened herself to it, letting her senses dominate her. Draco's thrusts sped up and she knew he must be close, too.
Just moments later, Draco slammed his hips against her and stilled, his cock jerking inside her as his climax surged through him. "Fuck, yeah!" he growled from deep within his chest. "Mmmine!"
She came, unraveling in his arms, crying out the glory of her pleasure. In those endless seconds, there was only Draco, Draco holding her, Draco loving her. The realization that she had such strong feelings for him, too, prolonged every nuance of her ecstasy.
As they came down from their high together, Draco buried his face in her neck, kissing her softly and breathing hard. Hermione sighed, utterly satisfied. She caressed Draco's back with her hands, keeping her legs tightly clamped around him. The truth was, she didn't want to let him go. Wistfulness rose in her chest. When the inevitability of deep sleep finally washed over her, her last conscious thought was that, wonderful as this sexual interlude had been, it was still only a dream.
When her Alarm Charm went off the next morning, Hermione awoke, stretched, and hopped out of bed. She felt fantastic - as though she'd had three solid nights of sleep instead of just one.
She threw open the curtains. The bright morning sunbeams that shone into her bedroom earned her a meow of protest from her lazy old cat, Crookshanks. She laughed and gave him a kiss between his disgruntled ears before heading off to shower. As she scrubbed herself clean and washed her hair, she realized she was humming. Any minute now, little forest creatures would come scampering in to sing a song with her. They'd better watch out, she mused. Crooks will eat them.
Back in her bedroom, she glanced in the mirror before dressing. Her eyes were bright and her cheeks were rosy. The smile on her face was certainly not one she'd seen in a long time. She looked rested...and supremely satisfied. Thoroughly shagged. Utterlysated. Good grief. All that from an erotic dream?
Wait a minute - she had bought Dreamless Sleep Potion, hadn't she? Had both she and Mr. Mulpepper read the labels wrong? She grabbed the little bottle from the nightstand to check. No, it was definitely Dreamless Sleep Potion. She flipped the bottle over and read the date scribbled on the bottom.
"Well, no wonder. This expired seven months ago, Crooks. Apparently stale Dreamless Sleep Potion has the opposite effect." She'd have to do some research to be sure, but it was a plausible explanation for her extraordinary dreamland encounter. And it had happened with Draco Malfoy, of all people! She pulled a warm, grey and red jumper over her head. Maybe him defending her at the pub had made her sleeping mind put him in her dream. She went a little pink at the memories. And perhaps all the bantering and dancing in the queue helped. She blushed harder. And probably his drunken yet endearing attempts to get her to sleep with him. All of that must have contributed to it. She certainly wasn't really attracted to him or anything like that. She put the outdated vial of Dreamless Sleep in her pocket. She'd do some investigating after she'd had something to eat.
After a quick breakfast of toast and tea, she located her old Potions texts from school. She found Dreamless Sleep Potion mentioned in a couple of them, but surprisingly there was little information aside from its basic effects and a recipe. Well, Hermione knew just what to do. She put on a red woolen beret and draped a scarf around her neck before Apparating to Diagon Alley, just outside Flourish and Blotts. Her curiosity was piqued, and she wanted answers.
The bell jangled over the door as she entered. The rambling bookstore was a lovely place to spend an autumnal Saturday. Normally, Hermione would have leisurely browsed the shelves of each section. However, today she had a mission to accomplish first. Instead of lingering, she made a beeline for the books on potions and brewing.
In short order, she'd found a meaty chapter on sleeping potions of all sorts in Evelyn Ensorcella's Enchanted Encyclopaedia of Elixirs. She lugged the book over to one of the many sitting areas in the store, curled up into a love seat, and began to search through it. She'd barely begun reading the entry on Dreamless Sleeping Potion, however, when she heard the shop's door open and then a voice that sent a thrill through her whole being.
"Mother, we've just spent an entire hour in Twilfitt and Tattings. I am in desperate need for some intellectual stimulation. You go on. I'll see you and Father back at the Manor." Booted footsteps followed this statement, growing louder with every tread. Hermione gulped. What should she do? The images of her naked dream-Draco were seared into her memory. Would she be able to look him in the eye if they came face to face? Or would she turn red as a sunset? Should she hide? She jumped to her feet, ready to bolt, the book clutched to her chest, but then she stopped. She was a Gryffindor, wasn't she? What was she afraid of? Her dreams were her own. There was no reason she needed to reveal them to anyone.
She dropped back into her seat and buried her nose in the book, pretending to be completely absorbed. Maybe he wouldn't even notice her. That thought was dashed when she heard him turn the corner and stop suddenly.
"Well, good morning, Granger," he drawled. "Fancy meeting you here."
"Good morning to you, Malfoy," she said, feigning disinterest. She kept reading.
She heard him step closer. "Did you sleep well?" he asked.
Hermione turned another page. "Yes, as a matter of fact I did. And you?"
"I can't complain. I slept quite well, really. All of that queue dancing must have tired me out." His low chuckle made her stomach do a little flip. She heard him take another step towards her. "Though, I did take a page out of your book last night and bought that last vial of Dreamless Sleep Potion."
"What for? I'd have thought you'd imbibed enough Firewhisky to put you right to sleep," she said in a bored tone. She languidly turned yet another page.
He was now standing right in front of her. She could feel him looking at her beret. At least her hair was under control today. "As it so happens, Granger, drinking too much alcohol gives me nightmares. I generally try to avoid overindulging, but last night I lost track of my intake. You might say I was, ah, a bit distracted." She looked up at him sharply, just in time to see his gaze running over her figure. That action alone could have left Hermione tongue-tied. But now that she was looking at him, it was Malfoy's appearance that rendered Hermione speechless.
He was perfectly coiffed, as usual, but her eyes were drawn to his clothing. Over a simple white shirt, dark trousers, and tall, dragon hide boots he wore a highwayman cloak of heavy black cloth. It was trimmed in silver with a high, forest green collar. A silver snake-shaped brooch decorated the front.
She'd never seen him wear it before. It was very stylish. It fit him perfectly. And it was the exact same cloak she'd seen in her dream the previous night.
She stood up slowly, leaving the big book on the love seat, and reached out to touch him. Draco sucked in his breath as she brushed her fingers over his chest, caressing the fabric. It was warm and rich, just like in her dream. But how could she have dreamed of this cloak? And why had she dreamed at all?
His long-fingered hand closed over hers, interrupting her musings. "Tsk tsk, Granger, don't you know that you shouldn't handle the merchandise unless you plan to buy it?" She looked up, startled. His grey eyes were half-closed and he was giving her a sly look. He gave her hand a light squeeze.
"Malfoy... how long have you had this cloak?" she asked.
"This cloak? About a week. I special ordered it from Twilfitt and Tattings. It's one-of-a-kind, custom-made." He dropped her hand and did a slow turn in front of her, holding out his arms. "Do you like what you see, Granger?" He faced her again with a lopsided smile and looked at her expectantly.
She took a deep breath. "It's a handsome cloak," she said. "That's what I thought last night, in fact - when I saw it hanging on your wardrobe."
Malfoy's face froze. His arms remained outstretched.
"Pardon?" he managed, after a moment of silence. He crossed his arms.
"I saw this cloak last night." Hermione bit her lip in consternation. "And it was in your bedroom. I dreamt about it."
"That's not possible, Granger." His voice was flat. "You've never seen my bedroom."
"I know that, Malfoy. But I swear to you, it was in my dream. I'd pull the memory out right now and show you, if we had a Pensieve."
He studied her face. "I don't understand. How could you have dreamed? Didn't you use the Dreamless Sleep Potion?"
"I did. I had a dose right before I went to sleep." She took the bottle out of her skirt pocket and handed it to him. "I wondered why I had dreamed at all, but look at the date on the bottom of the vial. The potion's old. You know how love potions can become stronger over time?" Malfoy nodded, slowly. "Well, maybe outdated Dreamless Sleep Potion actually enhances dreams, instead of suppressing them." She sat down slowly on the little sofa and looked up at him. She indicated the Encyclopaedia lying beside her. "That's just a guess, of course. I was about to look it up when you came by."
Malfoy stood in thought for a few more seconds and then sat down on the love seat beside her, hefting the book out of the way. "Look it up then, Miss Swotty McSwot. I, uh -" He coughed into his fist. "- I took the potion too. I swigged the entire vial. And, I dreamt last night." His eyes gleamed. "Quite vividly."
Hermione reluctantly tore her gaze away from his face and reopened the book to the Dreamless Sleep Potions entry. Draco leaned against her in a rather distracting way, his face next to hers as she read the entry aloud:
"Dreamless Sleep Potion was invented by Solomon Somnolus, the father of eighteen daughters who 'hadn't had a decent night's sleep since becoming a parent.' He'd wanted to find something that would prevent childhood nightmares. Dreamless Sleep Potion (DSP), which stops all forms of dreams, is the result of his experimentation. DSP is safe for all ages and is non-addictive, but it has a shelf life of only about two months. Using DSP after it has expired will not give the user a restful slumber but will instead cause the sleeper to experience extremely detailed and realistic dreams."
Hermione could feel her cheeks burning as she recalled some of the more intense details of her own dream. She didn't dare look at Draco, who was still sitting snugly beside her. Was he even closer than he had been? She was certainly warmer. She read on.
"A rather more problematic side effect, discovered by Solomon and his wife during a pyjama party they held for their daughters, is that all individuals who drink the same batch of expired DSP will find themselves sharing their dreams with one another."
With that revelation, the book almost slid off Hermione's lap. Malfoy's Seeker reflexes came to the rescue and he caught the book before it fell. He handed it back to her without saying a word. Hermione found herself wishing he'd throw out a barb or a snippet of snark. His silence could mean anything. She found her place, cleared her throat, and continued to read.
"Usually, the imbiber who first falls asleep after taking the stale potion will be the initiator of the shared dream, and all subsequent sleepers will join that person's dream 'in progress'. They will truly feel they are part of the dream (unlike in a Pensieve, where the viewer is a passive spectator as a memory unfolds). 'Thirty-six little girls all sharing a nightmare together is not an experience I ever want to repeat,' Solomon Somnolus reportedly said after presenting his findings. 'Whatever you do, people, discard your stale DSP, or at the very least, don't share it. You just don't know what it will lead to.'"
Hermione stopped reading and put the book down on the coffee table. She hesitated but then twisted sideways to look at Malfoy. He hadn't moved, so their faces were suddenly scant millimeters apart. She licked her lips nervously and almost licked his in the process. He broke into a sly smile.
"I Apparated home right after you left the apothecary. I took the potion and crawled into bed. I must have fallen asleep before you," he murmured, almost to himself. His breath was sweet. Good oral hygiene, Hermione thought randomly, and then blushed.
"This cloak I'm wearing, it was hanging on the door of the wardrobe. That's where I'd left it when I brought it home," he said. Then he smiled. "But you know, I wasn't consciously aware of my bedroom's details. I was completely focused on you." He stopped talking. He lifted a hand to cup her face and stroked her cheek with his thumb. Hermione leaned into his warm touch.
"Your many-great grandmother's ring is exquisite, Draco. But do people really have Betrothal Balls?"
"Ah. I see you met my family portraits." He rolled his eyes. "Even in my dreams they pester me about marriage." Hermione felt her cheeks heat up again, and she was gratified to see that he was blushing, too. "I wasn't lying last night when I said I'd wanted to dance with you for ages. I've waltzed with you more than once upon a dream...Hermione." She shivered. When Draco said her name, it sounded like molten chocolate.
She studied his expression. The vulnerability she'd seen in the dream was quite evident on his face now. She didn't want to ruin this.
"Draco," she said, quietly. She saw his eyes brighten even as a crease appeared between his eyebrows. "About the dream...I..."
"Yes?" he asked, a bit too quickly.
"I completely thought it was mine. My own dream, Draco. And I was happy about that." She smiled. "It was hot. And intense. And wonderful. And it was just what I needed. Just what I wanted."
It was amazing how quickly the male ego's switch could be flipped. Draco's frown smoothed out as he understood her meaning, and he gave her a grin that was almost oozing confidence.
"So, does that mean you'd like to invite me to go to bed with you? I could rearrange my schedule."
She smacked him lightly on the arm. "Let's schedule dinner together first, shall we? And see where things go from there?"
He leaned in to kiss her. "Hermione, that would be a dream come true."
FIN