Draco opens his eyes to a clear blue sky, a lush canopy of foliage partially obstructing his view, and a rather cross looking Granger looking down at him.
"Well it's about time!"
Sitting up, he more fully takes in his surroundings and finds rolling hills and a thick tree line in the far distance. The fields before him are covered in tall grass and sparse with old gnarled trees, some fruit baring. It appears to be midday in the Room tonight.
He mumbles, "This is new," mostly to himself. He then addresses the witch in front of him with her arms crossed and her foot tapping. "About time for what exactly? I wasn't aware we had a schedule."
She huffs and uncrosses her arms. "I just don't like wandering around in a meadow by myself and then, when I do find you, you're sleeping like the dead."
"You were looking for me, Granger? I'm touched, truly." He bestows one of his more charming smirks that usually sends a girl all a-flutter with warm feelings. Granger, however, just rolls her eyes. Though her lip might have twitched up just slightly. Maybe.
There is a moment of quiet as they both look across the hills before he asks, "So why something like this? We've always been somewhere I know well."
"Oh because it's my birthday I'm sure," she answers flippantly, as if it's the most obvious piece of information in the world. "I used to come to a place like this for my birthday when I was little."
Draco looks through the luggage of his brain and the very tiny case in particular that holds "facts I know about Granger". Did he know this was her birthday? He supposes he was vaguely aware she was older than most of their peers by many months where as he is one of the younger set. And he had noticed her two cohorts had been mildly more attentive to her at breakfast. The mind is a remarkable thing though, lest he forget. Even an obscure fact in his subconscious could come forward in dreams.
Especially magical dreams in this remarkable Room.
"What is this place then?"
"My grandparents owned a large property in the country and my family used to bring me to spend the weekend. They thought the outdoors might suit me. Ride some horses, see some sun... I usually just snuck a book in my jumper and rode my favorite horse as far as I could to hide under some shade."
"That sounds exactly what I would have imagined you would do," he teases. A week ago, it might have carried some malice in his tone but he looks forward to these dreams too much now to ruin it by being nasty. If the Room would like him to have a nice evening not thinking about that damned cabinet then who is he to argue?
"Yes well, I don't imagine an eight year old Draco Malfoy was too fond of being outside in the sun either, if we can deduce by your complexion." She grins and then starts trudging away in the tall grass.
He starts to follow and quips back, "Why go outside when you have a perfectly lovely manor in which to lay about? Unless there's Quidditch to be played of course."
"Oh of course." He grins at her sarcasm and increases his pace just enough to catch her gait. His legs being substantially longer, it doesn't take much.
"So why don't you come anymore? Because of school?"
"Oh no, I haven't actually been here since I was ten. My grandmother passed and Grandfather sold the property to move closer to family."
"I'm sorry," is his automatic reply. It's just proper etiquette to offer condolences, though he wouldn't know her grandparents from Merlin so it's hard to be too sympathetic. What he is really focused on is the proper way she refers to her grandparents instead of some peasant nickname like "Nana" or "Grampy", much in the same way he was raised to show respect. Muggles can't all be impoverished savages he supposes. He wonders if this aspect of Granger is realistic as well. After all there's no reason to think the Room doesn't know her well enough after six years to make a viable doppelganger.
"Thank you. I've come to terms though I do still miss coming here. It was peaceful. I could probably use something like this these days, with everything happening."
Yes, he thinks, as could he. He supposes that's why the Room brought him here and is grateful to the magic responsible. "Thank you for sharing it with me," he tells her.
"Oh it was hardly my choice," she laughs. "But I suppose it is a nice way to spend a dream."
"Though with my company I'm sure you are excited whatever dreams may come?" He winks in her direction when she looks over and is rewarded with an amused smirk of her own.
"It beats nightmares about failing my Newts in my knickers."
He's tricked into a laugh and if his hand brushes hers because he's walking a bit closer, neither comments or moves further away.
Hermione stops suddenly and, with a quiet gasp, grabs his arm to pull him back. "Look," She breaths softly and points ahead of them.
In the distance three unicorns graze in the field of waving grass. It's a beautiful sight of course, unicorns being majestic beasts, but Draco is more in-tuned to the feeling of Granger's small hand wrapped around his upper arm and her body brushing against the side of his own.
With effort, he ignores the feeling of her tucked into his side, fitted like she belongs, and looks down at her with an air of haughty indifference.
"You've seen unicorns before, haven't you, Granger?"
"I- Well no. I've not. Only in photographs. The wizarding world doesn't exactly have zoological exhibits."
He wrinkles his nose. "Yes… your 'zoos' muggles are so fond of. Bit barbaric don't you think?"
"It's not meant to be. Maybe a hundred years ago but the animals are treated well in most places. It allows people to enjoy and respect parts of the world they couldn't otherwise. Not everyone has a magic Room to show them unicorns you know." She grins up at him.
"I feel safe to assume this never happened at your Grandfather's estate."
She laughs a little and releases his arm. He's a little disappointed at that. "No of course not. Replace them with horses and sure; my Grandparents always had a few horses. Even a small head of cattle for a short time when I was little." She turns around to go back the way they came. "Let's not disturb them."
He follows without hesitation but does voice what he feels is obvious. "You know they're not real. You're not really bothering anything."
Hermione shrugs and looks back toward him, squinting a little against the sun at his back. "I know but it just doesn't feel right to behave awfully just because it's not real. I could punch you in the face too but you don't see me doing that."
Draco snorts. "I'd like to see you try that again. You only got one go at that and I wasn't ready."
"Oh, so if I said 'hey, Malfoy, get ready for me to break your nose' you could dodge me? I imagine that's quite true, Mr. Seeker. You may have noticed I'm not exactly athletically inclined."
"You're fit enough," he says without thinking, meaning that she's in decent shape, but she blushes and looks away as she walks. He starts to say that no, that's not what he meant. He simply meant... healthy.
But then, is it so terrible? She is pretty actually. And the pink in her cheeks suits her. Normally so proper and unattainable; more often than not clinical and straight-laced. Right now, with her head down looking at her feet and her hands clasped together, fidgeting, her innocence combined with her natural grace is almost devastating.
Spying a tree in the far distance, Draco is struck with a childish notion and allows himself to indulge. "Then again, always stuck in the library, you probably could use a little recreation. Let's see how fast you can reach that big Oak." He dashes forward and pauses only to be sure she's following.
He beats her of course, but when she falls down in the grass beside him, panting and flushed, he turns his head to watch as she laughs between gasps and they lay together for unknown time, watching the clouds move across the sky.
XXXX
Later, after he wakes, he's grateful when he leaves the room and finds no sign of Crabbe and Goyle. It must be later in the morning and they gave up waiting, assuming he couldn't get in too much trouble on his own when he emerged. When he enters the Great Hall, he sees them sitting to the far left of the Slythern table and makes a quick but hopefully subtle turn to the right to sit next to Theodore Nott.
"Didn't feel like the stimulating conversation of Tweedles Dee and Dum today?"
He looks at Nott briefly and grunts a general agreement.
Blaise Zabini plops down on his other side and rudely reaches across him for a plate of scones. "Morning, Drake. What brings you to the clever end of the table?"
"Your wit and charm obviously. Oh and table manners," he adds as an afterthought, watching Blaise reach across his plate yet again to steal the jam Draco had not had time to use.
His housemate beams at him, completely ignoring the sarcasm in his tone. "I am rather charming. Ask anyone. Especially the girls." He winks and spreads the jam a little sloppily, spattering almost as much on the table as anywhere. A dollop falls on the sleeve of Draco's robe and Zabini makes a big show of wiping it away when Draco scowls at him.
"Lord Malfoy, I am most apologetic. Here, let me. I insist." His mocking voice carries as he dabs at the jam dramatically. Draco rolls his eyes at the antics only to have his gaze land back across the hall at her. She is snickering at Blaise with a little smile on her face. When her eyes meet his, her expression goes back to stone and she looks down at her plate with a grimace.
Blaise notices her as well. "See, even the mudblood thinks I'm adorable. Shame about her family; hot piece that one. I'd bet she'd be great for a dirty librarian fantasy."
Draco grips his fork tight and makes no reply to the comment, gritting his teeth in secret. Zabini speaks about her as crassly and offensive as Draco ever has and yet she flashes him that grin and laughs playfully.
He thinks to himself that this is not what he needs.
What he needs is to make impossibly broken magic work so the Dark Lord doesn't literally torture him to death. He has no time for this ridiculous… whatever this is. Perhaps the Room had nothing to do with those dreams after all because he certainly doesn't require this blasted headache.
He eats in quiet after that, ignoring Zabini and Nott's attempts to engage him in conversation until finally they end up just speaking to each other around his head.
When he makes his way out of the Hall, he chances one last look at Granger and finds her laughing at something Potter, or perhaps Weasley, has just said and hates the feeling of jealousy that rises within. Is the Room trying to kill him?
Or maybe she really is what he needs.
He recognizes that as a dangerous thought and pushes it aside. They are just fucking dreams. Maybe he's reading too much into it. Even if it is the Room, who says it's her specifically he needs. He vows tonight to fall asleep thinking of some long-legged, scantily clad, and utterly faceless witch to purge himself of the ridiculous image of Hermione Granger being anything other than Potter's sidekick mudblood. (He's starting to dislike the way the word sounds, even in his head.)
Except he doesn't think of anyone but her for the majority of the day and when he wakes into his next dream she is there again. Their conversation is light. No heavy-handed philosophy or hard questions. She's charming and sweet, their banter clever and entertaining. Silently, he is thanking the Room for bringing her back even when he couldn't admit she is what he needed. She's a gift, truly.
Or, more likely a siren, calling him to drown in the deep.
A/N Sorry for the delay! I spent last night watching election returns and stressing
A big thank you as always for follows, faves, and reviews.
To the anon that mentioned they should be stuck in the room together, this story isn't that but let me highly recommend "What the Room Requires" which is one of my favorite Dramione. And since I can't PM thanks to anons, thank you for that review and thanks to the other anon that enjoyed the start of the story.
Averaging 6 reviews per chapter thus far. Can I make an impassioned plea to get that up into double digits? I love hearing from you!
