Author's Note: Yippie. A new edition to the story. Thanks for all the reviews. It took me a little longer than I liked to update this story. Mostly because of homework and revising my other story. But luckily, I had tons of spare time tonight to update.

Notes about the last chapter: Yes... I know Hermione's parents are really dentists. But I choose something different for the sake that I wanted Hermione to have to go through family problems like Draco. For them to have a connection that way. Sorry. I'm bad ... I know...

Chapter Two: An Unseen Face and A Familiar Whisper

Draco felt the rain drip down his forehead, as if the sky was crying. The crowd was small, not many were allowed to come. Most of them were Death Eaters that hardly even spoke to his mother. Draco felt anger boil in his chest; none of these people really knew his mother. They were there for his father, Lucius. Draco shot him a glare from across the casket. He couldn't help but blame him for his mother's actions. She was unhappy, and no one understood the pain that she endured. He was her master, and he never let her forget that. He would yell at her, beat her, and degrade her. And there wasn't a thing Draco could do to help her. He was caught in the same web. His eyes fell on the casket. It was a sleek black wood, with white lilies on the cover. Lilies were her favorite flower. Draco felt his eyes burn, but he wasn't about to let himself cry. Not in front of these men, and defiantly not in front of his father. He couldn't let himself be seen as weak, or he'd have hell to pay. He mentally blocked out what the Priest was saying about Narcissa. He knew most of it wasn't even true. She wasn't a happy wife and mother, she didn't laugh or play, and she never once smiled like a morning sun. No, his mother was a cold corpse. Even before she died.

Draco watched as the casket was lowered into the ground. She was gone. The only one who knew what it was really like to be a Malfoy… was gone. He finally felt the weight of being alone. His shoulders slouched and he forgot his posture. He didn't care if he looked like a mess, and nothing like a noble pure blood. The only thing he was worried about was what it would be like from now on. Without her, all of his father's rage would be spilled onto him. He hated to admit it, but when she was around, Draco was able to escape beatings. She took it for him. Who will protect him now? Who will be brave enough to take the bruises that were meant for him? Draco felt sick as he realized there wasn't a soul in the world that would want to do that for him.

The casket finally reached the bottom of the horrible hole it was to be buried inside of for the rest of time. Draco sneered as the elves began to place the dirt over his mother's dead body. He wondered if anyone standing above her really cared about her. His father surely wouldn't miss her; he could have her replaced in a day if he wanted to. The rest were only here for Lucius. After the funeral, a meeting was going to be held in the dinning room. Draco wasn't allowed to go, Lord Voldemort had finally decided that Draco wasn't old enough to be a true Death Eater. His father had a fit, but in the end, he accepted his decision with a bow. Draco couldn't have felt more relieved. It never was his wish to become like his father: a servant. In Draco's mind, Malfoys never served anyone. Even the most skilled user of the Dark Arts.

Everyone began to file inside the bleak manor, but Draco stayed behind. The elves were working as fast as the could. Draco wished they would stop. He didn't like the idea of his mother being underground. He felt a sense of abandonment as the last layer of earth was added to her grave. She left him to face this by himself. He had no one to run to, he had no one's arms to hold him. No more comforting words of false hope for a better life, no hands to wipe his few tears, and no love to help him feel alive. He reached inside his pocket, and revealed a crushed lily. He closed his eyes as he let the flower fall on her grave.

What was left for him now?

((&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&))

Hermione sat alone on the couch, studying her Ancient Runes book. Her eyes swept over the page, eating every word it produced. Her mind was blank to all of her troubles, and only concentrated on the book in front of her. It had always been that way for her, she found happiness inside books and knowledge. It was a refuge whenever things got a little too much for her. When things got rough, she'd distract herself inside books. She'd concentrate so hard, that her eyes would sting whenever she blinked. But she didn't care, as long as her mind didn't drift back to whatever had upset her.

Today, it was her mother. Lovely little mummy forgot all about her only child's birthday. There was even a post-it on the fridge that Hermione had written herself. But her mother was busy the night before, and came home with a headache. She poured herself into her bed, and slept the day away. When evening came, Hermione didn't get her hopes up. She knew her mother would forget. Mrs. Granger stumbled down the stairs with smudged make up and frizzed hair. Her face told Hermione everything she needed to know. It was another birthday alone. At least Claudia remembered. Claudia had treated Hermione to a day at the beach, filled with all the junk food Hermione's stomach would allow. She always felt spoiled with Claudia. Claudia did everything out of her way to make Hermione feel happy. And Hermione loved her for it.

Hermione knew her father would try to make up for it at least. He always worked on holidays or other important days. Hermione used to cry when he didn't show up, but that was when she still believed she had a family. She didn't believe that anymore. She came to realize things were different. When her parents found out she was a witch, they weren't the most thrilled parents in the world. Her mother was still sober then, and calmly told Hermione that it was her decision whether or not she wanted this. Hermione had never wanted anything more in her entire life. Hogwarts was a wonderful escape. It was far from home, and filled with wonder to keep her mind distracted. She loved to read all she could on magic, because secretly, she still wondered if it were all a dream. That wizards and witches didn't exist, and that she had made it all up. But each year she returned, she knew it was true. Hermione Granger was a witch.

She sighed as she put the book down. Her mind wasn't allowing her to escape tonight. She kept thinking about the dream, it was mostly the voice that haunted her. She could hear it clearing in her ears, as if she had just heard it seconds ago. She rubbed her temples and leaned back into the oversized cushions of the leather couch. She closed her eyes and tried to replay the dream. Maybe there was something she was missing. A sign she didn't see the first time. But as many times as she replayed the dream, nothing changed. She didn't see anything different, or anything that would give some sort of clue to its importance. She tossed the thoughts away and decided it was just a dream and that she shouldn't waste time dwelling on it.

Hermione was determined to make her this year at Hogwarts unforgettable. She planned to spend as much time with her best friends Harry and Ron as possible. She desperately needed them this year. She was sort of afraid of the idea of being alone. It wasn't that she didn't think she could make it; it was the idea of not having anyone to clean up her mistakes. No one to mop up her little milk spills, as Claudia liked to put it. She truly wondered if there was every going to be anyone who would catch her, if she ever were to fall. Like the woman in her dream, would she only fall and find death? Or would someone be at the bottom ready to catch her?

((&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&))

The faceless bride hissed as she glided towards Draco. Draco couldn't move his feet; it was as if they had a mind of their own. This was his dream… so why couldn't he stop it? Draco stood still, watching her approach. The bloody hole that was supposed to be a face was drawing nearer and nearer. Draco choked, he wanted to say something, but his throat wouldn't let him. He no longer had control. She was finally inches from him, he could see every vein in her bloody face. She crept slightly closer and whispered breathlessly into his ear. He wondered if she even had lips.

"Save me…" And without warning, she screamed.

Draco's eyes popped open and saw the shadows of his room. He calmed his breathing and rolled over on his back. The ceiling loomed over him like a net of lies and dreadful memories. There were so many things locked away inside the walls and cracks of this house, Draco almost wished he could set fire to it. Draco didn't usually have nightmares, and now that these dreams started, he was starting to get worried about his mental health. Then he just figured he was being paranoid.

It was starting to bother him. He wanted to know the purpose to the dreams, if there was one. He wanted to know why of all things to dream of, he dreamed of a faceless bride. A bride that liked to scream a lot. Draco sighed and rolled back over to his side. He was sort of afraid to go back to sleep. He really didn't want another encounter with the faceless bride.

((&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&))

There was no one there. The stones of graves poked up from the ground, like teeth. Hermione stood alone next to a freshly made grave. Its stone was already covered in moss and was starting to chip away. But it didn't make sense, the grave was supposed to be new. It belonged to her, the woman who killed herself. Hermione looked up from the grave to see the figure of a young man. His back was facing hers, and he was wearing all black. Just like the woman. Hermione began to walk towards him, against her will. She could hear his breathing as she came closer to him. His hair was on fire, with its red and orange flames licking at the sky. Hermione tried to fight to stay back, but she kept getting closer. The young man stretched out his arms like the woman from before.

"No!" Hermione cried out. She suddenly became terrified he would do the same thing.

"You're too late." And with that, the young man burst into flames. It's heat blasted against Hermione's face, it felt like her skin was melting right off. Leaving her with only a bloody hole, where her face should have been.

Not again… Hermione moaned as she tossed herself on to her side. She kept her eyes close, but her mind was wide-awake. In two weeks she would take the familiar train ride to the one place she knew her presence was appreciated. She was ready for anything this school year would throw at her. Or, at least, she felt that way. She always felt very confident about anything. She didn't really fear much, except death. But even then, she felt she could tackle just about anything. It must have been the true Gryffindor in her.

She let her mind wander to more serious matters. Harry would sooner or later, have to face Lord Voldemort. And Hermione intended on being there for it. She wasn't about to let Harry face that monster by himself. She wasn't that type of person. She knew Harry was going to need her more than ever. There were nasty rumors saying Hermione and Harry were lovers – but Hermione could never picture that happening. She really hadn't felt an attraction to a boy – except Viktor Krum. He was the first boy she thought he had feelings for. And she often wondered… if he was going to be her last.

((&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&))

Draco slipped down the hall and into the family library. His father was waiting for him. Lucius Malfoy was the kind of man whose face never changed. It always stayed the same horrible, disgusted, cold expression. He lazily blinked as Draco slightly bowed his head.

"What did you want, Father?" Lucious was standing in the center of a collection of large chairs. He motioned Draco to sit, and Draco did exactly that. He was terribly scared to disobey his father, even in the slightest bit. It would result is a painful lesson.

"I need to talk to you about your future." Draco swallowed. This wasn't the conversation Draco wanted to have with his father, if it were even a discussion at all. Lucius already planned Draco's life till he was thirty. And nothing annoyed him more than other people making his choices.

"What about my future?"

"Don't be stupid, Draco. You know very well what about your future." Lucius snapped at the younger Malfoy. His eyes lit with a fierce bitterness that made Draco's skin crawl. "You're to be a Death Eater, and I'm wondering whether you would rather stay here and train… or return to that pathetic school." Draco let his eyes fall to the floor. Everything in this house had a sad and lonely feel to it. The colors were bleak and gray. Nothing seemed happy here. It was just like its masters. Draco knew the answer his father wanted him to say, but Draco wanted so badly to return to Hogwarts. It gave him a chance to escape from the fists of his father. If only for a few months, it was more than enough to keep him strong.

"I want … to return…" Draco didn't finish. The minute he said, "return", his father's glare began to bore through him like fire. He couldn't bring himself to look up at him. "It's … It's just I want an education…" His father smirked. It was a similar smirk that Draco himself used. It disgusted him, but at the same time, made him feel superior. There weren't many times Draco got to feel like he was on top. But at Hogwarts, he was king.

"A ridiculous waste of time. You could be doing much greater things here. The Dark Lord would be most pleased, and it will grant you his favor." Draco cringed. He honestly didn't care whether the Dark Lord liked him or not. All he wanted was to live his own life.

"As long as you're my father, the Dark Lord will favor me." Draco really didn't like sucking up to his father, but it was the only way to avoid his father's anger. His father did always beat him, it wasn't until Draco started to defy him. He learned fast that was a bad idea. He never liked the idea of his father having so much control over him, but he always figured the minute he felt strong enough he would finally stand up for himself.

"Very well. Have it your way, I could care less. Just remember who you are, and what comes first." He strode to the door in a heated fit, Draco was only grateful he left the room. He took a deep breath and exhaled while closing his eyes. He was never more grateful the new year to Hogwarts was coming up. He couldn't wait to get back to Quidditch. He loved the sensation of climbing higher and higher into the sky, feeling no limits at all. It was his ecstasy, and he wanted as much as he could get.

((D&R&E&A&M&S))

The fire slowly stopped burning, and Hermione could finally breathe again. She touched the skin on her face – it was a miracle she still had a face after that explosion.

Explosion… Her eyes fell on the boy in front of her. His hair was still a silvery flame, but this time it wasn't actual fire. Hermoine felt herself approach him. Her feet carried her straight towards him.

"Hullo?" Her voice forced its way out of her throat.

"Who are you? Why are you here?" His voice sounded scared, almost as scared as she felt. He was nervously glancing around in front him, but he never turned around to face her.

"Who are you? You're the one in my dream…" He began to panic, his movements were fidgety and his hands were twitching slightly. For some reason, Hermione felt extremely calm. Maybe it was his fear that relaxed her. There was something else too. Something Hermione wasn't sure of it, but it felt like this boy in front of her was someone she was supposed to know.

"Get out of my head!" He began to run from her. Hermione felt her feet chase after him. She gave into her instinct, no longer fighting the outcome of this dream. He was fast, and Hermione found it hard to keep up with him. The distance between them was growing, and he was starting to look more and more like a shadow instead of a person. She felt desperate to catch up to him. She wanted to see his face…

"Wait! Come back!" That time, she truly meant to say the words that came from her mouth. He stopped, but there was still a good ten feet in-between them.

"Stop following me. You're supposed to be dead."

Hermione felt the sun beat on her eyelids, waking her up from another confusing dream. She blinked a couple of time before she rose from her bed. She slightly scratched her head and sighed. Why does it bother me I can't see his face?

((L&O&V&E))

"Stop following me. You're supposed to be dead." Draco froze at the sound of his own voice. The faceless bride came a step closer; he could feel her pulse from where he was standing. How does she have a beating heart if she's dead? Draco thought as he heard her steps coming closer.

He hadn't meant to run from her, but his feet panicked and brought him here. But when she cried out to him, he couldn't help but stop. There was something in her voice that reminded him of something, but he couldn't place it.

"What do you want?" There wasn't a response. Or even a sound. He suddenly felt a warm hand touch his.

"Wake up…"

"Ah! Damn it…" Draco wrinkled his nose as he tossed himself on his back. His eyes slowly adjusted to the morning light that interrupted the darkness he preferred.

He blinked a couple of times and stared up above him. It was just a stage. The dreams will pass, and you'll gain your sanity again. He tried to reassure himself. But it was getting harder each time he remembered the voice that whispered to him. It was something about her voice that bugged him. He knew that voice…

Author's Note: Hm. I wonder why he Recognized that vioce... (rubs chin in thought)