Two Halves of a Whole Chapter 1, a harry potter fanfic | FanFiction

Disclaimer: If I really were J.K. or if I actually owned the Harry Potter world, do you really think Ronmione would be canon and I would be lying in bed writing this?... Yes, I thought so...

A/N Hi, I have no idea how you ended up here but I'm glad you did! I have just adopted this from Floocauldron27739, and his/her story is still up under that pen name. Please read it, but maybe after I put another A/N in saying we have got to the end of that version, as I am editing and lengthening as I go... I decided to start this today because it's my birthday, and I wanted another birthday present (Happy Birthday to meeeee...,Happy Birthday to meeeeeeeeeee...). I hope you enjoy the ride. As always, please read and review, if you spot a grammar mistake please tell me!

Chapter 1, Dream and Discovery

Draco screams in agony, cursing his existence, and what a rotten 17th birthday he's having. It feels like his whole body is on fire. Draco is on his bed thrashing around, mussing the fine, silk bedsheets. He vaguely feels someone place a damp towel on his forehead. He hears his mother murmur soothing words of encouragement. This unbearable pain seems to be going on for hours, days, months even... He can't tell anymore. After what seems like hours, he finally collapses due to the pain, happy birthday to him.

In his dream land, he is wearing fine silk dress robes, finer even than those from his 500-galleon-for-a-pair-of-trousers wardrobe. He stands in a meadow, wildflowers scattered though the foot high grass, and a soft wind blowing the leaves of the trees surrounding the small haven. His hair falls loosely around his face and he feels more alive and more content than he ever has before. He looks around, and sees a woman walking towards him in a white, silk shift, billowing about her legs in the breeze, but even with the distance between them, he knows that his contented nature is due to her. As she draws nearer, he notices the smaller detail, the masquerade mask covering her features, the small green stone hanging from a silver chain about her neck, and the way her bare feet move with an immortal grace through the long grass. She reaches him, her movements fluid as stops a foot from him, she takes his hands in hers and he sees her soft brown hair, and the eyes that match her pendant. Just as he lifts his hands to cradle her face and remove that mask, he wakes up in a cold sweat, remembering the life he so briefly escaped from.

"Mum, what was that?" he asks in a slightly shaky voice. She takes a deep breath, looking worried and cautious.

"Draco, you're a dracken."

XoXoXoXoXoXoXoXoX

Hermione whimpers in pain, cursing whatever is causing it and what an awful day she's having. It feels like her whole body is being cut by multiple knives. Hermione is on her bed writhing around, messing up the cotton bedsheets. She barely feels someone placing a damp cloth on her brow. She registers her father speaking soft words of comfort. This agonising pain seems to be going on for hours, days, months maybe... She can't recognise the passing of time anymore. After what appears to be hours, she finally passes out from to the pain, good morning to her.

In her dream land, she is wearing a fine silk gown, finer than any she has ever worn before. She is walking through a meadow, wildflowers scattered though the foot high grass, and a soft wind blowing the leaves of the trees surrounding the small haven. Her hair falls loose down her back and she feels more alive and more content than she ever has before. She looks around, and notices a man standing a distance away from her, appearing to be the one she is walking towards. He wears plain white dress robes, clearly of a high quality, but even with the distance between them, she knows that her contented nature is due to him. As she draws nearer, she notices the smaller details: the masquerade mask covering his features, the dragon pendant at his throat. She reaches him, her movements fluid as stops a foot from him, she takes his hands in hers and she sees his soft blonde hair, and the stormy eyes that match those of the dragon. Just as she lifts her hands to cradle his face and remove that mask, she wakes up in a cold sweat, remembering the life she is now returning to.

"Dad, what was that?" she asks in a trembling voice. He takes a deep breath, looking slightly guilty.

"Hermione, you're a veela."