A/N: This is a very short story (according to my word count, exactly 1000 words). I enjoyed writing it and I hope you'll enjoy reading it too!

Note pour mes lecteurs francophones: Je vous jure que j'ai pas fait exprès d'avoir l'idée en anglais ^^" Ce sont des choses qui arrivent... J'espère que certains d'entre vous arriveront à la lire quand même, et peut-être que je la réécrirai en français quand j'aurai un peu plus de temps libre !


Disclaimer: It all belongs to You-Know-Who- erm I mean J. K. Rowling.


He was sitting next to her in the dimly lit room. It was their secret place, the refuge they had found one day by chance, and to which they returned every time they needed to be alone together. Moonlight coming in through the narrow window shone on her hair, making it glitter in a surreal way, and as he gazed into her eyes, he thought she was the most beautiful girl he had ever seen. She smiled at him, and started to gently stroke his hair, while he brought his hand to her cheek and caressed it tenderly.

"I love you, Draco," she murmured in the most delightful voice.

"I love you too, Hermione," he replied.

They kissed, and he felt rapture beyond anything he had experience before. It wasn't just any kiss, it was special, just as special as she was to him. She was the one who had taught him what it meant to truly love. She was the one who had saved his soul.

A strident sound brought the dream to an end and he woke up, instinctively extending his hand to the enchanted alarm clock to make it stop ringing. Yawning, he got to his feet and stretched, trying to remember what he had been dreaming about. And suddenly it rushed to the front of his mind, so clear that it almost seemed real: Hermione Granger. He had been dreaming of Hermione Granger, and as if this wasn't unusual enough, he had been dreaming of her in a way that made absolutely no sense. How could he ever be in love with her? She was just a filthy Mudblood, whom on top of that was also an annoying know-it-all and one of Potter's closest friends. And yet, the dream had been so realistic... He shivered involuntarily and went into the bathroom to get ready for the day.

He kept thinking of it the entire morning. He couldn't get his mind off that dream- and off her. He didn't understand where it came from; the thought of it had never even occured to him. No way, Granger? You've got to be kidding! And yet he remembered how beautiful she had been in the moonlight, how delicious her lips had tasted, how much love he had felt for her...

"Are you listening to me, Draco?"

He looked up at Pansy who had just interrupted the flow of gossip she had been feeding him for the past fifteen minutes, looking outraged.

"And what are you staring at anyway?" she asked in a reprocheful tone.

He turned back to the direction where he had been gazing and he realized, slightly stunned, that it was the Gryffindor table. More precisely, it was a particular Muggle-born with bushy brown hair, who was having lunch with her back turned to him, her two best friends sitting in front of her. Speaking of friends, the Weasley boy raised his head just then and met Draco's eyes. He frowned and turned back to the other two, while Draco looked away. Pansy was still waiting for his answer, he realized.

"Later, Pansy, I've got things to do," he mumbled while standing up and walking away from the table.

He left the Great hall without looking back and went down to the dungeons. The Potions class wouldn't start for another half hour, and even Snape wasn't there yet. He sat at his usual place and let out a sigh. He was being ridiculous, he scolded himself. It had been nothing but a dream, why did he bother so much? He took out his textbook and started reading it to force himself to think about something else, but he was aware that she was still on the back of his mind.

"What's going on with you, Draco? This is the third time you forget to stir the potion!"

Draco blinked and looked at the contents of their cauldron, which were supposed to be turning bright blue but were now a nasty shade of gray. His partner looked annoyed but he didn't bother to answer, and merely picked up his silver knife to chop the next ingedient that was to be added. When the class ended and all the students were busy leaving the room, he heard footsteps approaching him. He turned to find Hermione walking up to him, a determined look on her face.

"What's wrong with you Malfoy?" she snapped.

He raised an eyebrow.

"What's wrong with you, Granger?" he replied disdainfully.

She placed her hands on her hips, and her voice grew angrier.

"You've been staring at me all day, do you think I didn't notice?"

He was about to throw some cruel words at her, but strangely they refused to come out.

"Don't be silly," he replied instead while grabbing his bag.

He cast her a contemptuous look and walked out of the classroom. He didn't stare at her anymore after that day, nor did he let himself be bothered by that strange dream he had had. But sometimes, when he was in a melancholic mood, he would let his mind drift back to it, finding it just as clear and intact as if no time had passed, and he would allow himself to wonder if such a world could have existed. A world in which he wasn't the same person- a world in which, perhaps, he would have never become a Death Eater.

"It's time to go, Draco. The Dark Lord is waiting for you."

He looked up at his father who had just entered the room, and he nodded. That world would never exist, not anymore. He gazed at his arm, at the place where in less than an hour the Dark Mark would be engraved forever. He didn't need that world to exist. The world he lived in was just as good, in fact it was probably much better. Filled with pride and excitement, he got up and followed his father, looking forward to the destiny that had been chosen for him.