Chapter 3

There was nothing there to help him, not a damn thing.

Draco ran his hands through his hair for the umpteenth time and pulled on his bangs in frustration. For over eight hours, accompanied by a never-ending hot pot of specially brewed Hawaiian coffee, Draco had sat in his study. After dismissing the elves for the night (much to their horror), Draco had pulled down every book concerning his bloodline. There had been nearly twenty books in all, going all the way back to Caesar. Turns out his multi-great grandfather had served with the great general. This fact amused Draco to no end but he still couldn't find anything that could help him.

The books were impressive, thick, musty tomes with smooth dark leather covers. Some of them had inscriptions so old, they were rubbed away. Black ink had faded to a whisper shade of grey. Pages that were so aged that they broke between his fingers. Their musty smell of age and dirt drifted to his nose, as he went through book after book.

As he continued his search, he came across plenty of old family diaries but had put those aside. He'd rather talk to their paintings than read their horrible writing. Too many curlicues and swishes for his liking. They just made his head pound.

Draco sighed as the bongs of the grandfather clock vibrated through the room. His eyes burned, his back hurt, and he was stiff from sitting for so long. Coffee could only do so much and he needed sleep. Silently, he counted off the rings of the clock and squeezed his eyes closed. It was four in the morning. Shaking his head, he grimaced at the dead feeling in his head. There would be no working today.

He was the boss.

He was taking the day off.

Pulling his weary body out of his chair, he banked the fire and exited the room. Waving his wand back and forth, Draco silently put locking wards on his study door. The fewer things that messed with his work, the better-his mother included.

As much as he loved his mother, she was still the nosiest, high-strung, demanding person he knew. She would've done one of two things concerning his research. She'd throw herself into it, seeing as her son needed help, or she would sabotage his work to hide something that she didn't like or want him to know about.

Draco was convinced that there was something in those books to explain his recent dreams and behaviour. Hell, he'd even been unprecedently civil to Granger days before. He shook his head softly, and wandered to his room.

Shutting his door with a quiet click, he cast another locking ward at his door and silently stripped out of his clothes. He hoped the dreams stayed at bay this time.

If they continued as they did, he really would find himself in St. Mungo's in no time.

~DMHG~

She felt saturated in evergreen and maple. The smell was everywhere. She could feel it clinging to her skin. It crackled in the air around her like static electricity.

She couldn't get away from it.

She turned and turned but there was nothing around her. She was consumed in darkness. She felt another presence, but she could see nothing.

A sudden urge told her to run.

But, run from what? She didn't feel threatened. She felt...comfortable; pleasant. No, she was fine exactly where she was.

She saw a flash of white in front of her. It was small, as if it were far away. She squinted and tried to reach for it but it never came any closer. She tried to move but it was as if she were cemented in her spot.

She had to let the flash come to her.

"Come here," she called and reached toward it.

She felt something brush her face and that special scent intensified. She suddenly felt smothered.

She still wanted the only thing she could see, that distant bit of white.

"Come to me!" she called.

A low rumble echoed around her. It sounded...like a purr, what?

She stretched out her senses, trying to pinpoint the sound, the being; but it was everywhere.

"Hello?" she called.

She strained toward the white bit again but noticed that it had grown dramatically. It was coming straight for her-fast.

She felt her skin shiver as the rumbling increased. She suddenly didn't like that sound. It needed to stop, to go away.

She suddenly felt the need to run, just as it had said. Run fast and hide. She needed to move.

The white bit was getting closer and the rumbling was increasing.

Suddenly, it was there. It had her.

The white light surrounded her. It was-

Hermione jerked awake so fast, she fell out of her bed in a tangle of sheets and comforter. Lying on the floor, she groaned. "You've got to be joking!"

Hermione Granger was no idiot. Although she was proclaimed smartest witch of her generation, she certainly didn't brag about it. These dreams took her longer than usual to work out, but she felt she had done it.

As she lay on the floor, the answer hit her like a bang. Her bulb had suddenly went off. Mystery solved.

Draco Malfoy was messing with her dreams. It was the only explanation. The only question now, was why?

Their dramatic past certainly lent itself to them avoiding each other at all costs. Throughout their childhoods, they'd had a deep-seated dislike for each other, especially after the whack she'd gave him in third year. To this day, Ron still recalled it as his most cherished memory.

So, why was he messing with her dreams? What was the point? Was he doing it intentionally? Was something or someone there with them?

It certainly did bear some thought over. Even if Malfoy was messing with her dreams, why would he urge her away? Telling her to run seemed pointless. Did he even know it was her? She knew it was him because of his scent. The white bit was a bit of a puzzle. She could only connect it with his white-blond hair.

Sighing, Hermione pushed herself off the floor and sank down next to her bedside. This was all becoming quite maddening. She could feel the swirl of emotions building in her head, the anxiety of the dreams and their meanings or what they could mean overwhelming her. In reality, the only pressing matter was her match-up at the Ministry in three days.

She felt as if she were going insane. She had really thought to tell Ron and Harry about it but they would've just been confused and urge her to go to St. Mungo's for a check-up. What could she have told them? Really? 'I'm having weird dreams. I think I'm being watched. I smell the scent of my hated school rival. I think I need a once-over.' They'd most likely stick her in the mental ward for observation.

There was only one thing she could do.

Making up her mind, Hermione changed into an S.P.E.W. T-shirt and a pair of soft, worn blue jeans. Sliding her feet into a pair of old trainers, she quickly brushed her teeth and hair, and then flew from her room.

This house's library was not helping. She needed to go where she knew she would find answers and advice.

She was returning to Hogwarts.

To say Narcissa Malfoy was cunning would be an understatement. She could be devious when she wanted. She was adept at trickery and manipulation, but just as well as the next Slytherin. From birth, she was taught always to be aware of who was around her and what was being said. Nothing was more useful than blackmail. She had discovered growing up that most people valued their pride above most other things. Be it pride for family, station, or self. If one tried to damage that pride, wars were started.

Therefore, why, at that exact moment, was Narcissa urgently trying to break through her son's study's wards? What was she hoping to gain? What was she trying to hide?

Draco considered these questions while standing ten feet behind her. Sadly, his mother had been so consumed with attempting to un-weave his spells that she hadn't heard him approach. A Slytherin was always supposed to guard their back.

"Can I help you Mother?" he asked. If he hadn't been so intrigued with her behaviour, he would've laughed at her body's reaction. She jumped as if she'd been electrocuted.

Her back rim-rod straight, she slowly pivoted towards him. Her face was as blank as she could make it, save her eyes. As Draco studied his mother, he noticed small beads of sweat at her hairline. He quirked an eyebrow at that. His mother was definitely nervous about something.

"I was just hoping to get a book," she murmured.

Draco nodded his head as if he completely understood. "Yes, I can see that. The real question is...what book are you trying to get?"

Narcissa latched her fingers together in front of her, clenching them softly. "A book I left here a last evening. I was tired, you see, and decided to read a bit."

Draco nodded again. "You didn't take it back to your room?"

She narrowed her eyes at him. "I don't have to answer to my son."

Draco stared at her.

She began to fidget and finally threw up her hands. "Is it wrong that I worry about you?"

Draco felt his lips curl up into a familiar sneer. "Worry now is it? Here I was thinking that you were trying to invade my privacy and go through my things."

His mother threw him a sneer of her own. "They're the family books. They're mine as much as they're yours. I was simply retrieving them."

Draco clenched his jaw in anger. He was pretty damn certain she was hiding something. He just hadn't found it yet. He was keeping those books until he was certain he had. "Well Mother, seeing as how I'm still doing a bit of research at the moment, you can't have them." He waved his hand at her as her mouth open to argue. "I'm not sure what you're hiding but I'm going to find out."

Her eyes widened as if innocent. "Hiding? Why I'm hiding nothing Draco. I simply want the books back." She fluffed her hair in nervousness and smiled. "You know how I like order. I just simply want them back to where they were."

"Then you should've been a housemaid," he stated.

"Draco Malfoy! You watch your words!" she snapped.

Draco simply stood there at ease. Sliding his hands into his black slack pockets, he studied his mother. "You know, you simply could tell me the family secret. It's just that easy," he urged softly, giving her a small smile.

Narcissa's mouth firmed into a straight line. She really was annoyed with him. "There is nothing to tell! I really do wish you'd get off the idea! It's ridiculous!"

"Then stop acting like you're hiding something."

Narcissa's eyes snapped fire as she straightened her shoulders. She marched past him, sneered at him, but didn't say a word.

Draco calmly went to his study door and removed the spells. "Oh, and Mother," he said while glancing back at her. She was glaring with her hands on her hips. "You should know that if I can't find what is causing these dreams, I'm going to St. Mungo's."

"If you do that, everyone will know! You can't!"

Draco sneered at her and asked, "Know what?"

He watched as her mouth clamped shut again. He knew that there would be nothing more from her, help-wise.

He inclined his head to her and stepped inside his study. "It's your choice Mother. Remember, there's only three days left until I am due back at the Ministry."

Draco sat in his study, alone in the dark. Even the fireplace was cold. He couldn't believe it. It was impossible.

Putting his head in his hands, he closed his eyes and tried to sort through all the images he recalled from his dreams. The warmth that was always present reached him first. It was addicting, the way it curled around his heart, his head. The flash of gold sparkled before his eyes. Then an image of her mouth, so many expressions told through just those two lips. It was maddening the way he concentrated on those lips.

Only last night, the dream had been different. Last night, he'd her for the first time. He saw Hermione Granger clearly, from her unruly, curly, golden-brown hair to her pink toes.

It startled him that she had been happy waiting in their shared nothingness. She reached for him. Told him to come to her. She was relaxed and had almost seemed to enjoy herself, then the beast had started toward her. She was so far away; the nothingness seemed to stretch for miles. The purring scared her. He wouldn't admit it, but it scared him too. They were being watched. He was sure of it. Although trying to pinpoint who or what was watching him seemed pointless. It was as if they were in their own little space without an exit.

He was startled to think that he actually cared for her safety. He'd never held her in high regard. She had been an utter annoyance all through school, their third year, especially.

Therefore, to discover that he was trying to save and protect her almost undid him. He didn't necessarily hate the girl. He just didn't want to be around her. In his dreams, it seemed that their pasts were washed away. He'd admit it; having her there before he had known who she was had been comforting. He'd been eager to continue the dream then.

The beast had shown up and she hadn't noticed. Draco had noticed from the beginning. It just seemed to stalk, watch, and circle them. Once she began speaking to him, the beast began incessantly purring. Had she even known it was him? Did she know that it was Draco she was speaking to? If she did, it didn't seem to matter to her.

When he saw her at the Ministry, he almost hadn't noticed Potter at all. He had seen her on the ground and reacted immediately. He knew that she needed to be on her feet and out of any harm's way. He noticed everything about her that day, from her surprisingly smoothed curls twisted in a bun to her grey pantsuit and black heels peeking out from under her robes.

She'd obviously been shocked, which still made him smile. It was hard to surprise 'Know-It-All Granger', so he savoured this triumph. The added bonus was that she had interceded for him against Potter. He savoured that little titbit all the way home.

He couldn't say that they were sharing the same dream. This could all just be in his head. But, if he was not mental, why would he dream of her? It was absurd. He should attribute this to stress, the marriage law, and seeing her again after these past few years. Maybe his subconscious could just be jumbling them together in his head while he slept.

However, if it was nothing, then why was he certain that he'd been dreaming of her for months instead of mere days?