Disclaimer: Harry Potter is NOT mine. I wish it was, but no. Kudos to you, JK Rowling.
Hermione Granger woke up to the smell of burning sausages. She groaned inwardly. How many times had she told him not to try and cook? Stretching her hands upward, Hermione climbed out of bed and blinked blearily. She padded barefoot into the kitchen and shook her head.
"Oh Harry..." She muttered, smiling.
"Did someone ring the Saviour?" Harry Potter
"Ha Ha, you're just hilarious, did you know that?" She teased him, as he put his strong arms around her waist.
"I believe it's been mentioned a few times, yeah" He laughed in her ear, swaying back an forth.
Hermione and Harry had been dating for a total of 2 years, today being their second year anniversary. They'd gotten together almost immediately after the Second Wizarding War. Ron and Ginny were dating their significant others, Padma Patil and Dean Thomas.
"Can I ask why you had the sudden, uncontrollable urge to mutilate sausages and pancake mix?" Asked Hermione as she bustled around the kitchen, cleaning up his mess, then back into his embrace.
"It was going to be your present, breakfast in bed, followed by..." He winked at her.
"Very suave Mr. Potter, but I'm afraid you missed out on 2 key points. You can't cook, and I don't have time to... I have to go to work." She winked at him. He frowned,
"That's right, I suppose we'll have to settle for dinner tonight then, The Platter of Erised, or somewhere in muggle London?"
"You tell me Your Brilliance. Where do you think I would like to go, somewhere not only exposed and public, but also in Diagon Alley, where every reporter within writing distance will rush to document our entire date, or somewhere that may be exposed and public, but in muggle London, where no one knows who we are...?"
"Really now Herms, was the sarcasm necessary?" He fake pouted at her.
"Yes." Hermione mocked him, sticking her bottom lip out. Harry raised his eyebrows at her, and bit her lip, pulling it out further.
"Mmmm" Hermione moaned, "Mm, Harry, no..." She protested feebly as Harry started to trail his kisses down her neck and back up. Oh bother, It was their anniversary, Flourish and Blotts could make do without her for a while...
!
Draco Malfoy was running. That in itself was strange, because he preferred to fly (using a broomstick, of course) , or, stay put. Even more strange, he wasn't running away from anything. He was running towards it...There! Glittering, like gold...The snitch! No, it was a galleon...Or maybe a pair of spectacles? Draco stretched his arm out to catch the object, but soon realized he didn't have any arms, in their place, were a pair of wings. He then fell off a cliff, but no problem for Draco Malfoy, the bird. He started to flap his wings, but they were gone! He had his arms back. His initial thought was, "Good, I can catch the snitch." But it soon came to his attention that the snitch-type object was too far above him to catch. He was falling, falling, falling-
"-AHHHHHHHH" Draco sat bolt upright in his bed. Slowly, he sunk back down, groaning. He swung his feet over the side of the creaky motel bed. What was with that dream? Did it have some sort of special meaning? He'd always been bad at anything particularly Seer-ish. Astronoy, Divination, anything.
tap, tap, tap
Draco looked to the window, a handsome owl was looking at him disdainfully. Draco wrenched the sticky window open, and the owl hopped in haughtily. Draco untied the parchment that was attached to it's leg;
Draco,
Please come home immediately. We are in a position that does not bode well. Do not worry about me, I will get out of this predicament myself. It is your mother I worry about. She is neither willing nor able to do the things necessary to survive. It was cowardly for you to run off in the first place. I expect you home within the week. You have a duty to your family.
Your Father, Lucius Malfoy
Draco crumpled up the letter and sighed. He trekked into the mouldy kitchen, and started his day with plain, scratchy toast. He showered and coiffed his hair, donned his jeans and grey button down shirt, and pulled a slightly darker grey jacket over top. With one last glance around his dingy motel room, he snatched his wand from the table and turned, disappearing into thin air with the usual loud crack.
A/N: Well? Like I said on my profile, I'm not much of a writer, so please review and give me some tips for improvement!