Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter, it belongs to JKR. I just seriously mess with her world.

A/N It is very loosely tied with the seventh book. Sirius is alive because I needed him, being dead wasn't going to cut it. Also, Lucius isn't in Azkaban.

Chapter One: Dreams

Dreams are the minds way of telling us something is adrift

Dreams are reality is a foreseeing form

Dreams are not something that should be taken lightly

Dreams can kill

The room was dark, save one dimly lit candle on the table. Hermione could hear voices-no- screams of someone at the hand of torture.

She stepped forward, hand stretched outward so she wouldn't run into anything.

The screams continued, getting louder with each step. She was beside him now. She couldn't see him, but she could hear his heavy, rigid breath. She extended her arm and touched him, he screamed. Hermione pulled away instantly, a sticky substance left on her fingertips. Bringing the candle closer she saw that blood coated her fingers. Raising the flame higher she saw an injured and frightened Draco Malfoy.

Hermione Granger jerked awake from her nightmare. She had only been home for the summer for two weeks and almost every night she had been plagued by this horrid dream. Each time waking up feeling terrified, trembling, soaked with cold sweat. Always fighting the unexplainable urge of wanting to go find her enemy; just to prove to herself that he was alright.

But why did she care? Hermione would ask herself every time she sat up in her bed after a night like this. 'Why do I care if something happens to Malfoy? I hate him and he hates me. I'm nothing but a know-it-all Mudblood to him and he's only a spoiled, arrogant little ferret that's training to become a Death Eater to me.'

The neon numbers on her clock read 7:52. Knowing trying to sleep anymore would be futile she pushed away her blanket and staggered down the hallway.

'Stupid dream,' she thought turning the handle in the shower, letting the water warm up. How was she supposed to enjoy her summer if she woke up like this everyday? She sighed; tossing her pajamas on the floor she stepped into the shower and let the warm water wash all the sweat off of her body.

Exiting the bathroom, the scent of bacon hit her. She made her way down the stair to where her mum stood in front of the stove.

"Morning Hermione," Mrs. Granger greeted her daughter, who sat down beside her father at the kitchen table.

"Morning," she returned as she picked up her fork and shoved some eggs into her mouth. It proved to be a lovely day; perhaps she would go down to the park and begin her summer school work. Gulping down her last bit of milk she put her dishes in the sink. "I'm going to park to do my summer school work."

"Sure, sweetie, be careful. Your father and I will be gone when you get back, we're leaving for the Dentists convention right after breakfast. We won't be back until tomorrow evening."

Hermione nodded, throwing a few books in her book bag along with some parchment and ink.

It took only a couple minutes to reach the park. It was small, a couple swings and slide with a baseball field and was surrounded by woods, like most of her neighborhood was.

Little kids bounced about and Hermione settled down away from the noisy children, just far enough to where they weren't completely distracting, but still close enough to enjoy their happy laughs. Stretching out on the blanket she had brought she relaxed for a little while allowing the sun to soothe her after that horrid dream. Pulling out some parchment she began writing her essay on which spell was best to rid a basement of pixies.

Next year would be her seventh and final year. She could scarcely believe that her tale at Hogwarts was coming to an end.

"What are you doing here, Mudblood?" said a familiar drawl; three hours after Hermione had begun her essay.

Hermione glanced up to find none other then Draco Malfoy staring down at her. "I happen to live down the street. Why are you here?"

Malfoy smirked, "You're irritable today aren't you, Granger?"

Hermione rolled her eyes and sat up. "I'm trying to work, Malfoy." Stuffing her work and the blanket back into her bag Hermione stood up. She'd get no work done with Malfoy here, it was lunch time anyway.

"What's the hurry? It's not like I'm going to curse you with all these muggles around."

True, he wasn't that stupid. Hermione sighed, "What are you doing in a muggle neighborhood anyway?"

He shrugged, "No reason."

Hermione lifted her bag to her shoulder and turned back to the playground.

Malfoy followed her, "Oh come on, Mudblood, I haven't had an intelligent conversation since summer began."

"And that's my fault?" Hermione spat, "Why do you want to talk to me anyhow? You hate me! If you want a bit of advice, if you want someone to talk to you, don't go around calling them Mudblood!"

She started heading home, surprised when he followed her and said, "Your right."

Hermione thought she was hearing things, "What?"

"I said your right," he spattered as if the words he had just said literally tasted like cod liver oil. "I actually came for some potion advice."

Now, Hermione was even more confused, "Why'd you come to me? Why not Snape?"

"I need this to stay private. It's not that I don't trust him, I do with my life, but he thinks his house is being watched by You-Know-Who. It's a powerful potion he created when he was a student at Hogwarts. The only place he wrote it down was his Advanced Potions textbook, which Potter used last year. I'm not about to go to Potter for it, but Snape figured you might know how I can my hands on it."

"So Snape sent you to me. That makes so much more sense. Anyway, Harry and Ginny hid it in the Room of Requirement," she stopped walking when they reached her driveway.

Malfoy's trademark smirk formed on his lips, "You have it, don't you." Hermione rolled her eyes. "You sneaky girl, I didn't know you had it in you. So are you going to give me the potion?"

"Tell you what, since Snape made it, it has to be powerful, right? So you tell me what potion it is and if I buy your reason for needing it you can brew it here. My parents are gone until tomorrow night. The book stays with me unless Snape comes to me himself for it. Deal?"

"Deal." It seemed odd to Hermione at how quickly he agreed to her terms.

Leading him inside, she wondered what Ron and Harry would say when she told them that Draco Malfoy had come to her for help.

"If you want me to help you there will be no, and I mean no, remarks about my house," she threw in a glare as they climbed the staircase, to which he threw his hands up in a silent surrender. So, he wasn't a complete idiot after all.

Not that Ron or Harry ever came to her house; she had still felt the need to hide the potions book. Pulling it from her bottom drawer she handed it to Malfoy.

"What potion is it?"

"The No-Harm Elixir."

"The one that prevents a person from physical harm?" Hermione asked, leaning over to get a better look. She couldn't help but laugh as she thought back to second year when she thought the Polyjuice Potion was difficult. "Why do you need this?"

He was silent for a moment, but then quietly answered, "It's not for me. It's for my mother." Something in his normally emotionless told her not to press for further explanation. He needed her help, and she knew how hard that was for him to do. But obviously his mother was a good enough reason to swallow his pride.

Watching him for a moment he finally met her gaze with an almost pleading look. Hermione nodded, "Okay. I think I have everything you need to make it," she said taking out her cauldron and ingredients.

Malfoy nodded, "It's all basic stuff, just very precise directions."

"I'll leave you too it then," she said, closing her blinds so no one would see Malfoy working over the cauldron. "Are you hungry? I was going to make myself some lunch."

If Hermione didn't know any better, a look of excitement flashed across his face, "If you don't mind…"

"I'll bring it up when it's done."

Hermione finally decided on spaghetti, mainly because she wasn't sure what Malfoy would stick his nose up at. Either way, she'd never met a person who didn't like spaghetti. When she took the plate up to her room, he was diligently working over the cauldron. She'd never seen him work so hard at something. He didn't look up when she set the food down and Hermione thought better of interrupting his concentration. He hadn't called her Mudblood since the park and she wasn't going to jinx her luck.

After eating, Hermione plopped down on her couch restlessly. It was weird having Malfoy in her house. And why didn't his mother need a protection potion? Contemplating these thoughts she shut her eyes and soon dozed off.

She couldn't see their faces, only their eyes in silhouettes. One pair red and the other a silvery blue. The larger shadow, the one with red eyes, struck the smaller with a harmful blow. The smaller fell to the ground in pain.

The witch woke with a start. Breathing heavily and drenched in cold sweat. The clock read 8:02. She had slept all afternoon yet, she still didn't feel rested.

As she sat up, Hermione spotted a note left on her coffee table.

Granger

I finished my potion. I didn't want to wake you so I just left. I appreciate your help.

Malfoy

He thanked her, well, sort of. It was probably the closest thing she'd get from Malfoy.

It was still somewhat light out so she decided to go for outside, she wasn't hungry for dinner; if fact the last dream let her bit nauseous.

The evening air smelled so fresh and relaxing as Hermione walked down her backyard path to her favorite spot at the river. She was surprised to find Malfoy sitting there.

"What are you still doing here, Malfoy? I'd thought you would have gone back home by now."

"Go away, Mudblood!" he demanded firmly.

"No. This is my neighborhood and I'm staying," she replied smartly. So much for him not calling her Mudblood.

Malfoy didn't respond. He was curled up by a tree, so close he could have been hugging it. That's when she noticed to dark crimson blood seeping through his black tee-shirt.

"Malfoy, what happened to you?" she knelt beside him, trying to see the extent of his injury, but he pushed her away.

"I don't need your help," he hissed.

Hermione ignored his rude remarks, "You're hurt, you need to get to a hospital."

"I'm not going to a hospital!" he snapped.

"Then let me help you," Hermione replied softly. Again, she reached to examine her enemies wound.

And just like he had before, he pushed her away. He forced himself up and tried to make his way down the slope. He only took a few steps before he fell to the ground.

Hermione knelt beside him. His energy seemed drained because he no longer pushed her away when she touched him. He hardly noticed her presence anymore. She lifted his shirt to find a bloody mess. There was a clean gash across his chest, an almost whip like mark.