She was watching him closely, and though she still cried, her tears still poured and dripped all down her front, splattering gently onto the dry earth, and her breath still came with difficulty, tonight something different was reflecting in her eyes, which seemed to glow in the Dark Forest despite the impenetrable darkness that surrounded them. Her sobs racked her body hard and fast, looking almost painful. He loved it. He made a calculated and steady movement, swiftly bringing his right hand up, flexing his strong fingers, still watching her, wanting to see the sheer panic. Her heart pumped quickly, giving itself away by beating visibly in her neck.

Still he hadn't touched her, but soon he would have her pinned up against that tree by her throat while his other hand did the job. He almost trembled with anticipation. It had been so long since he'd seen blood spill, felt it running through his fingers, spotting the ground, staining the skin…

Her eyes were focused on his hand, watching with wide, terrified eyes, surely knowing what was about to happen, when suddenly, her eyes snapped back to his. A jolt went through his body, though he refused to let shock replace the eager look on his face. Those brown eyes flashed with an unmistakable sense betrayal, accusation, fury, defiance, no fear was left in them, and she wasn't sobbing anymore. How dare she try to ruin this for him with her fucking bravery?

But it was never ruined, for the best was still to come. This was it. It was time to watch her squirm, thrash, beg, plead, cry, bleed, die…

With terrifying speed, he lunged forward to close the already barely-there gap between them, fingers flexed, nails exposed, the feeling of control flooding back through his system. She didn't have a chance in hell.


Hermione jolted awake. Panic was rushing through her veins, her entire body was as tense as if she had a body bind curse put on her, and her eyes prickled, but for the first time since the dreams had started, she did not cry.

Still she lay there shaking and trembling and trying to slow her breathing. He almost touched me… She couldn't explain why the idea of Dream-Draco touching her was so much more terrifying than any of the other dreams combined. He had been so close… She had felt the warmth of his hand, a millisecond before it crashed up against her throat,air had stirred, rushing past her neck with the quickness of his movement, but she had woken up before any contact was made.

She sat up a bit on her bed and put her head between her shaking knees.

She had had a couple nights of actual rest now. One more was all she wanted… it would have been so nice to sleep in on a Saturday… but it was still very dark outside.

Though her and Malfoy hadn't exactly been getting along, they seemed to have reached an unspoken agreement to only speak about their shared problem so that nothing personal was ever drug up. It seemed to be a good solution for their research, but Potions class still seemed to spawn many arguments with it, mainly due to their different brewing styles.

Although it was taking a while for the shaking to stop, Hermione suddenly sat up again and looked around the room. Something was different about this Waking. Something was a bit… off. She squinted, trying to focus on the shapes around her, but Lavender and Parvati were both unmoving, breathing deeply. They were still asleep. There was no one else in the room. And then she realized just how calm she was. That's what was so weird. She held up a hand and watched it shake for a minute. It was obvious she wasn't in complete control of herself, but… she remembered her previous awakenings clearly: the harsh sobs that had raked through her body, the unmasked panic that she had become so well acquainted with, the extreme frustration and helplessness that engulfed her entire life…

Yes, this Waking was different. She was much calmer, despite the fact that Dream-Malfoy had almost touched her. That event was so much more frightening than anything that had happened so far, and yet she felt ten times better than usual. It was odd.

Perhaps it was because she knew who the predator was now. Maybe her subconscious was taking back a little control, realizing that Hermione was spending hours researching solutions (though neither her nor Malfoy had found a single helpful word yet). She supposed there could be a few contributing factors to her suddenly calming down a bit.

She was so used to laying in bed with thoughts swirling fast around her head, making it almost impossible to even see sometimes, that it took a minute for the soft tap-a-tapping to rouse her. Undoubtedly due to having a best friend with dangerous enemies, the hair on the back of her neck stood up and, with reflexes that had proven themselves on many occasions, her wand was instantly in her hand and raised, ready to strike. It was then that she spotted a handsome eagle owl outside her window with a note. Of course, she thought. Malfoy would be awake right now too.

Curious about what he was sending her, wondering if he was simply bored out of his mind with the night as she was, she opened the window to retrieve the letter, and the massive owl dutifully held out his leg for her. It took off into the night the second she had it free. A cold breeze blew across the grounds and into the room, and she quickly closed the window, a little more forcefully than she had meant to, but Parvati and Lavender slept on.

She unfolded the bit of parchment, smoothed it out, and held it to the window where the moon, high in the sky, reflecting off the snow, illuminated it enough for her to read his thin, spiky handwriting:
"I found something. Room of Requirement."
Short and to the point. Typical Malfoy. She should have been irritated that he sent her a letter so late at night (or was it early morning? She had no idea), but he knew she was awake whenever he was. She should have been offended that he didn't even ask if she could get out to meet up, but he knew she was adept at sneaking around the castle. She should have been mad that he didn't even give her the chance to respond, just in case she wanted it to wait until morning, but he knew that she was just as desperate as him for any answers at this point.

Eagerly she changed into her clothes, deciding that she was already up for the day, so it didn't really matter. She wished she could think of a good excuse to wake Harry up and borrow his invisibility cloak, but "I'm sneaking out to meet with Malfoy" didn't seem like something he would go for. Unable to think of a believable excuse after a few minutes, she cast a simple disillusionment charm on herself and started on her way. She would have to be extra quiet in the halls; a disillusionment charm, no matter how skilled she was, wouldn't make her completely invisible.


Draco paced in the Room of Requirement, which had taken the form of a mostly empty room, save for a replica of the table in the corner of the library they were so familiar with and a roaring fireplace. Just the bare essentials. Just the way he liked it.

What was taking her so long? He knew she was awake. They had managed to determine that much through their endless, result-less research. His owl had never before failed to deliver something for him. He took a small flask out of his pocket and took a hearty drink, before screwing the lid back and slipping it back into his robes.

Finally, just as he was getting ready to give up on her, the door opened just a crack, and then shut again. He heard a soft murmur, and Granger made herself visible again. Finally.

"It took you long enough!" he snapped, though he was excited about his find, and wanted her to see. Eagerly, he turned to the table, where he had set a book, and started flipping through it to find the right page. He could hear Granger approaching behind him, and then an angry gasp.

"How did you get that?" she demanded, indignation lacing every word. She must have spotted the soft purple binding on the book.

Draco was unconcerned, still trying to find the right page. It had been close to the end of the book…

"What? I took it…" he answered, distracted.

"It was in my bag!" she almost yelled.

"Yes, yes, it was," he said, still not looking up, flipping quickly through the pages, scanning them. He really should have marked his spot, he just didn't think he would forget the page number. There had been something significant about it. "It was in your bag, but I took it, because it is mine."

He glanced up at her. She looked furious. Pink tinted her cheeks.

"You went through my bag?" she demanded, daring him to answer, it seemed.

"Yes!" he said, both to answer her question and because he found the correct page. 568. It was almost a representation of his birthday. How could he have forgotten that? His mind really was elsewhere these days. "Look at this!" he stepped back triumphantly, pointing at a spot in the margins of the book.

Granger seemed interested enough that she didn't say anything more about him taking his book back, but she gave him another frosty glare before stepping forward to pick up the book. The anger quickly drained from her face, along with most of the color. Draco knew exactly why. The text at the top of the page told her that the chapter was titled, "Those That Withstand: The Dreaming Anomalies That Cannot Be Solved By Magic or Potion". Not a promising start. But it wasn't anything in the content of the chapter that he wanted her to look at… it was the writing that someone had scribbled in the corner. It was not Madam Pomfrey's writing, which was large, thick, and loopy, but a small and messy affair, barely legible. Madam Pomfrey either got this book second hand, or she had lent it out before.

He watched Granger closely. She was staring at the scribbling on the page, her gaze so intense that he worried the book might burst into flame.

"It means, 'Dream of Mortal Enemies,'" he said after a couple minutes, disdainfully. Was Granger really so thick that she couldn't translate a bit of basic Latin?

"I know what it means!" she snapped at him. "I was just… I've heard the term before. I'm just not sure where…"

"It's not mentioned anywhere else in that book," he offered. "And I checked my school books, too."

Granger was still looking intently at the words in the book. Minutes ticked by. Draco fidgeted. This is it, he thought. She's not moving. She's finally cracked for good.

Finally, she spoke out loud, reading the full four words that had been hastily scribbled Merlin knows how long ago. "'Somnium Mortalium Hostibus – Help?'"

Draco said nothing. Though he relentlessly made fun of it, he had been impressed by Grangers study methods and brain power. Until now. Now she seemed to be stuck in a rut, unable to put together her thoughts. Her mind just wasn't turning the way he thought it should. Yes, thank you for reading it out loud, Granger. That really helped. Maybe she just needed a little bit of a prod to get her going, like a boulder at the top of a hill.

"What do you think?" he asked.

"I think we need to look up Mortal Enemies… Hostes Mortale," she said, finally putting the book back down, a fine crease on her forehead.

"I already told you what it means—" Draco began.

"—I know what it means! Two people bound to hate eachother. There is a very powerful magical bond behind it. But we need specifics! Qualifications! We need –" she stopped, as a small, neat book case had appeared soundlessly at the other side of the room. "—books…" she finished, distracted, as she was already walking towards it to examine the covers.

Draco sighed. He knew they would have to get back to the book stage eventually, but he had hoped that the finding of something that could be tied to them would offer a break of some sort. Any sort of discussion to stimulate his mind. He was so very bored with books. Well, he must be very bored of them if he would rather have a conversation with Granger than read. It was tedious work. Reluctantly, resigned, he had just decided he might as well get started when Granger interrupted his thoughts.

"Malfoy," she said shrilly, piercing his ears, and he knew he would be in a bad mood soon.

"I'm coming," he snapped.

"Not, that's not what … Malfoy, when were you born?" she sounded insistent, hurried, worried, a bit frantic, but her back was to him, sitting cross-legged on the floor, and he couldn't see what she was looking at.

"June fifth…" he said slowly, and he approached her cautiously, until he could see that she had four different books open on the ground in front of her. She was muttering to herself and running her finger down one page, stopping, then using her other hand to find something in a different book. Multi-tasking at its best. "Did you find something?" he asked, not wanting to get too close due to the insane vibe coming off of her: frizzy hair, talking to herself, books open everywhere.

"Shut up," she said instantly. His temper was beginning to flare again, but he worked hard to keep it in. They had been almost civil with eachother the past few days, for the most part, at least, and if they were getting close to finding the answer to making it stop, he wasn't going to jeopardize that by taunting her. He scowled and returned to the table, where he sat huffily and glared at her.


There was list of criterion that had to be met in order for two people to be magical Mortal Enemies, Hostes Mortale, and Hermione read the list through three times before she became concerned. It was entirely possible that these would apply to her and Malfoy. Her heart fell a little. She reached up from her sitting position to pull down a couple more books from the case in front of here.

So his birthday was June fifth?

She ran her fingers smoothly down the page with the criterion, and stopped her slightly trembling finger under the first bullet:
"MUST have been born under the same planet"
She kept her finger in place while she flipped though a different book with her other hand. June fifth… June fifth… 6-5…. Mercury. She stared at the word. She had been born under Mercury as well. But so has half of the rest of the wizarding world, she assured herself, and she slipped her left hand down a little to reveal the next bullet.

"MUST have opposing values"
That one was pretty general, but she knew instantly that it applied to them as well. Malfoy only looked out for himself. Hermione looked out for everyone around her, functioning as a group. That small fact affected the way both of them acted towards everything. Fuck. She closed her eyes and took a deep slow break through her nose. That's okay, too. The same would be true for any Gryffindor and Slytherin. On to the next bullet.

"MUST have opposing blood lines"
That was a no-brainer. The Malfoy family with their prejudice pure-blood mania couldn't get much more opposite from Hermione's wholesome muggle parents. But plenty of people could have these bullets apply to them. In fact, they were all very general in their wording. It would be easy to misconstrue. Perhaps she was doing that now.

"One of the pair MUST have the capability to kill"
Hermione stared at the word 'kill' for a minute, until it looked like it was buzzing on the page. She moved her hand and shifted her eyes to the single paragraph under the bulleted list.

"Hostes Mortale are bound by the elements, causing them to hate and fear one another. It is impossible for these feeling to evolve, unless the spontaneous Somnium Mortalium Hostibus comes in to play. If ignored, there is no stopping the dreams, which may come frequently or infrequently. The results are deadly. If allowed to play to the end, the dreams will eventually stop. However, if the pair survive Somnium Mortalium Hostibus, some would argue their fate is worse than death.

That was where it ended. The author of the book didn't think a little more information could be useful to the reader? A dull buzzing, like that of many bees, filled Hermione's head. This was what was happening to them. But what exactly was happening to them? The stupid book didn't say. She looked up at the bookcase again to scan the titles, sure that the Room of Requirement would have provided everything they needed, but an interrupting cough sounded behind her.

"Well?" drawled Malfoy. "You've been sitting there all quiet for quite some time now, save for that insane muttering you seem to be so fond of, and I would like to know what you found."

She blinked at him. Her mind was still processing the words, whirling quickly, but she stood and walked the book to his table, before sitting in the chair next to him.

"I… found it," she said, handing the book to Malfoy and pointing at the paragraph. And though she still didn't understand exactly what the book was trying to tell her, she felt an immense wave of relief rush through her. She had found it. They would be able to look it up and figure something out now. It didn't matter that it could be dangerous. It didn't matter that it would be difficult. The dreams would eventually stop, and her life would go back to normal. She allowed a smile to cross her face, and looked at Malfoy, who had finished and was sitting back with a thoughtful look on his face.

"It wasn't very fucking descriptive, was it?" he said crassly.

"But we've found it! We can look it up now, and we'll find the solution! We'll have the answer today! The dreams will stop, and we will be able to sleep again!" she was jubilant, and she laughed in relief as she spoke. Malfoy even cracked a smile, the first real one she had ever seen grace his face, and she swore she could see the tension leaving his shoulders.


He couldn't help but smile. Granger was so obviously elated and relaxed about the prospect of finding and answer, it was contagious. But his mind was reeling. Yes, they would have an answer, but the criterion had been especially disturbing to him. Inwardly he had gasped loudly. In his imagination, he had thrown his head back in disbelief and grief and rage and disappointment in himself.

"One of the pair MUST have the capability to kill"

That was him. There was no other explanation. Goody-two-shoes Granger, with her big brown eyes, shining with innocence at every turn. You couldn't kill someone with your nose stuck in a book all the time. And there she was again, searching the bookcase, face almost pressed up to the exposed binding.

They were obviously experiencing Somnium Mortalium Hostibus together. They clearly fit every bullet in the list of criterion.

"Draco… you are not a killer…" He had held so much contempt for the old bat Dumbledore, but the words had become a sort of mantra for him. Dumbledore hadn't thought Draco a murderer. Draco thought he could do it, but he couldn't, and the fact that he couldn't kill had given him so much strength after Dumbledore's death. He had turned himself around. After running away with Snape and the rest of the Death Eaters, he spoken with his mother, then went straight to the Ministry of Magic. They were already looking for him. He spoke to Scrimgeour, Shacklebolt, McGonagall, and many others, breaking down in front of them, explaining every dirty detail of his sixth year at Hogwarts. He had begged them for mercy, a show of weakness his father would have killed him for.

He was held in the ministry for three nights before he faced the Wizengamot, who put him on probation and ordered the best protection the ministry could offer to protect his poor mother at Malfoy Manor. She was untouchable there, as he was here.

The Dark Mark that blazed black on his arm was a constant reminder of his terrible deeds.

"Draco… you are not a killer…"

Draco hadn't thought so either, but apparently they were wrong…

The door to the Room of Requirement suddenly burst open, and in strolled that idiot Potter, followed closely by the Weasel. They both stopped dead in their tracks to stare at Draco, apparently in shock. Draco certainly was at first, but he quickly recovered and hitched his signature sneer into place. Fucking Potty and the Weasel barging in all over the castle. Some things never changed. Granger had stopped searching for whatever she was searching for, and turned to see them.

"Oh…." There was a pause. "Hey, guys," she said very awkwardly.

Draco watched in amusement as the Weasel turned redder and redder by the second. It was like watching a pot getting ready to boil, except at the end he was sure the red-head would simply explode.

"Hermione…" started Potter, obviously straining to keep his voice under control, though he too was a bit flushed in the face. "What are you doing here—"

Weasel interrupted, "Nevermind that, what is he doing here?" he pointed at Draco, hand a bit unsteady, emotions unchecked, weak.

"We were working, Ron," started Hermione gently, clearly used to the Weasel's outbursts, trying to keep him calm. "Remember we have that project in potions." She was clear and unwavering. Her lying had improved greatly, Draco realized. I guess weeks and weeks of trying to convince people you're okay will do that to you.

"Like hell, you were!" he shouted. "We know you haven't been in the dorm since five. Parvati woke up when you left. Harry looked at his map, and you didn't show up on it. We thought you might have just needed a change of scenery or something. But… but you've been in here the entire time, with him?"

"We've been… we've been working on our potions…" Hermione started, beginning to falter under Weasel's unbridled rage.

"Hermione," Potter jumped in now. "Why did you leave at 5 in the morning to work on potions? On a weekend? With Malfoy, of all people? It's 10 in the fucking morning now!" Damn, had they really been in here for five hours? For once, the night had flown by. Potter wasn't nearly as angry as the red-head was. He was looking at Hermione in a more calculated way, Draco realized. Potter knew she was lying. Was he practiced at legilimency, or was he just good at reading her? He instantly put up his own occlumency barriers just in case. No fucking way was Potter getting in his head.

Granger looked very flustered by her two friends shouting in her face, and Draco noticed sparkling tears starting to build in her eyes. But she had been so happy only moments before. And this made Draco furious. She was getting berated only seconds after they had made a major leap together. They were both exhausted, scared, frustrated, and sick. No one deserved to be treated like this after the emotional roller coaster they've been on. Not even an annoying frizzy-haired mudblood.

"Look, Potter," he stood, fuming, and stepped between Granger and the two boys. Granger's mouth opened in a little 'o', and Potter and Weasley looked furious. "She told you what we were doing, and we're not quite done, so if you would just leave then we can finish up and get the hell out of here."

Weasel's hands were visibly shaking by the time Draco had finished his sentence. "You dirty little ferret! You're lying to us about something! What is it? Are you blackmailing her? Are you making her do all sorts of work for you or something? What is it?"

"GET OUT!"

Draco started, and turned around to look at Hermione, who was clenching her fists at her side.

"You two, get out NOW. We ARE working on something, and we are ALMOST finished, and now you guys are just making things worse!"

Tears fell openly down her front now.

Potter had the decency to back down a little, but Weasel was still red in the face, glaring at her. "Hermione, just TELL us! We can help you! You don't have to spend time alone with this scumbag! You shouldn't be spending time alone with him. We all know what he's capable of—"

"WHAT exactly are you trying to imply?" shouted Draco, cutting off the Weasel.

"Ronald Weasley, if you don't turn and walk out right now, I am going to jinx you from here to high hell." Her voice was cold, deadly calm. Her wand was out and held steady, unwavering, pointed directly at his chest. She meant it.

Potter was tugging gently at Weasel's shoulders now. "We'll discuss this later," he muttered to him. It took a minute, but he finally budged and reluctantly left, throwing angry looks at both Draco and Hermione on his way out.

Draco's blood pounded heavily in his ears, causing everything else to be muffled slightly. Granger was glaring at him, though not nearly as angrily as she had been at Weasley.

"You shouldn't have gotten involved," she said shortly. Draco groped in his robes for his flask. He needed a drink.

"They were hassling you. If you feel any bit as terrible as I do, then you would have killed them on the spot." He unscrewed the cap, hands a little unsteady again, and took a long drink before stashing it away again. Killed them… killed them… The words echoed in Draco's head, and a wave of nausea passed through him.

"Draco Malfoy, I am perfectly capable of taking care of myself, thank you very much!" she shouted at him. Potter and Weasley had gotten her all worked up.

"It's not my fault they're fucking idiots, strutting all over the castle as if they own it, thinking they need to keep tabs on you every second of every fucking day!"

"They are NOT idiots! Don't call them that!"

"They are fucking idiots who don't deserve to breathe this good air."

"You wouldn't even have the opportunity to breathe 'this good air' if it wasn't for Harry, you pretentious asshole! You would be—" Granger stopped mid-sentence, suddenly looking very scared.

Draco stared at her, his eyes blazing, his mouth slightly open. Hermione seemed frozen in place, except she was breathing rather hard. A full minute passed where they just stared at eachother, not saying a word, until his icy voice cut through the thick silence, sounding deadlier with every word. "What do you mean, 'if it wasn't for Harry?' Granger, What the fuck are you talking about?"

Her eyes darted around now, desperately looking for anything to settle on but him, but he reached forward to grab her shoulders. At the sudden physical contact, a buzz wracked through his body, but he ignored it. He gave her shoulders a desperate little shake, and she finally looked back into his eyes.

"What did you mean by that?" he repeated.

"When you turned yourself in…." she began in a whisper, staring directly into his eyes, tears welling up in her own, "He testified for your defense. He told them everything he saw, about how you were lowering your wand. About how… how scared you were….how you were only trying to save your family… He was the only witness they had to account for what happened in the Astronomy tower. He kept you out of Azkaban."

His hands dropped from her shoulders. He owed his freedom to Saint Potter. He was in his debt, and he hadn't even known it. Potter had pitied him, he realized with disgust.

He didn't want his fucking pity.

"DAMMIT, Granger! Why didn't you ever tell me this!"

She was crying freely again now, and he felt a twinge of regret somewhere in the pit of his stomach, but it was almost completely masked by the horror he was feeling now. The person he hated most in the world…had him in his debt. FUCK.

"I… I knew you would be ashamed. I didn't want to… want to upset you... and we never exactly talked before now…" she sputtered.

He was embarrassing himself now. She knew he was ashamed. She knew that he was embarrassed. She could tell how much this horrified him, and he hated it. You have five seconds to get yourself under control, he told himself. One… two… three…

She was still watching him, tears streaming down her face. Why was she crying? Did she actually feel bad for making him feel bad?

Astonishingly, at the count of five, he took a deep breath, and felt the calm returning. Not much, but enough to compose himself in front of Granger. He would mull this little fact over later, probably over a couple whiskeys, and he would hate himself afterwards, but for the time being, they had work they needed to get done. She stared at him, shocked by the sudden change in his demeanor.

"Okay," he said, slowly, taking another deep breath. "Okay, Granger, that's fine. Let's get back to work. Did you finish looking through those books yet?"