For DracoLurver-MrsFelton, who I've been messaging ALL DAY and who is one of the coolest people I've met on this site. ^^

Hope you guys enjoy!

...

The thought brought on a whole other epiphany of thoughts. They hadn't wanted him as a Death Eater after a while. He'd been a disappointment. And they were desperate for members. They had hardly even contemplated it before they had him cut off from them, enemy number one.

Was he good enough for the good side?

"Harry?"

Harry turned away from the first year he was helping out and nodded at Draco. "Yeah, mate?"

"Do you mind if I leave early? I'm not feeling very well."

Harry nodded, then smirked. "It's probably that cold, finally catching up with you from your snow angel adventure."

Draco rolled his eyes. "Thank you. I'll see you tomorrow."

Harry nodded once more before returning to the first year.

"Hermione?"

She looked up from the notes she was condensing. "Yes?"

He kissed her forehead. "I'm tired. I think I need to go lie down."

Her eyebrows wrinkled. "Would you like me to come with you? Do you need to go to the hospital wing? Are you going to be okay? What's the matter?"

Draco shook his head, smiling lightly. "I'll be alright, doll. Just need to go take a little rest. See you after the meeting?"

She nodded, a confused look still plastered across her face as Draco kissed her forehead once again before leaving.

He sighed once he'd left the room of requirement, wandering the long way back to the dorm.

He certainly didn't feel worthy to be in the DA. All he could think about while he was around all of those loyal to the good side members was that he hadn't been loyal, that he'd chosen the losing side, and even they hadn't wanted him. Not every Death Eater could leave, because they didn't want to lose any members. But he had been able to leave.

Why? Why was that? Was it because he was a failure, or because he was destined for something better?

Someone had once told him that everything that happened in life was working it's way towards the greater good. That is, even if something bad happens, it will eventually lead to something good happening, whether it be to yourself or to someone else. Maybe somebody you don't even know.

He didn't know if it was a good thing or a bad thing, though, that he had left. He figured good. He listed the reasons: he had joined the good side; he now had Hermione; he normally felt good doing the things he was supposed to do in relation to the Order; he felt like he had a family now. There really weren't any good things about being a Death Eater. The only thing he could come up with was being with his mother, but he was disowned. He had no mother anymore.

He wondered if she still thought of him. He hoped so. He missed her. His awful father didn't deserve her.

He sighed when he reached the room and sluggishly slid through the door, dropping his backpack on the back of the sofa as he trudged across the room to his bedroom. He fell on his bed face-first, not even bothering to undress.

He soon found that he hadn't simply been making up excuses to get out of the meeting-he was exhausted. Within minutes, Draco had fallen deeply asleep.

...

Draco was very aggravated. He was so confused. He hated confusion, but it was basically his only emotion at the time.

He was back in the manor, just outside the parlour, waiting for his parents to allow him to enter. For the time being, he was practising his bowing for when someone very important came, but he had absolutely no idea why, or who was coming.

Finally, he had this certain feeling that it was time to enter the room. So he did, but what he found was not his parlour. What he found was simply darkness. As he stepped inside this darkness, he had sudden feelings of fear, as if there was something that he couldn't see there, watching him with malicious intent, washing over him. It horrified him to no end, and he wanted to leave. He tried turning to go back out the door, but-it was so frustrating!-he was moving so slowly! And once he had finally turned far enough to allow him to go towards the door, he found his feet were glued to the floor. He was suddenly facing the correct direction. He opened his mouth to call out, to find who was watching him, but no sound came out, and he was suddenly falling! Falling, falling, and around him were stars and the darkness and the hidden, watching eyes.

Suddenly, he saw a face. It was a face he knew, the face of his previous Dark Master, the dead Dark Lord Voldemort, circling above him. His full body came into view and he was grinning his crooked-toothed grin, his pale skin nearly sparkling in the light from the stars. And Draco felt so cold as he watched while his father took the place of the Dark Lord, and as his mother appeared, then Sirius Black and Harry and then as Hermione appeared. They were all talking at once, all encouraging him in a different direction. They all wanted something from him, they all needed him for some purpose, and then they all disappeared, all except Hermione, but he was still falling. He was about to come in contact with the ground, and-

Draco flailed in his bed, feeling as if he had just landed from his long, dream-plummet. He gasped so deeply he felt as if he'd accidentally swallowed his lungs, and he looked around the whole room. Finding himself alone, he checked his watch, which told him that it was only four o'clock in the morning.

He dropped back onto his back, wondering about the dream. He hated dreams like that, dreams in which he felt so dangerously stuck, where he could do nothing, even though those around him all needed something from him.

Muggle's had hundreds of thousands of theories on dream psychology. They believed that dreams held true meaning to your fears and your desires, to certain elements of your life. At that moment, Draco was inclined to believe that this may have been the truth.

Still having these strange feelings of fear, sprouting from he knew not where, he thought he would keel over dead when his door creaked open, and in walked his girlfriend, wearing a nightgown with a cow pattern on it. Her hair was a mess, which indicated she must have been asleep just a few moments ago, and her eyes were blurry, which confirmed his indications.

"Hermione?" he whispered, gesturing for her to come in. He shifted on the bed so she could settle next to him. He inhaled lightly and caught that familiar scent of Hermione and English Lavender. "What's going on, Hermione?"

"I heard you tossing and turning," Hermione replied groggily. "You were making sounds like you were afraid, and then I heard your gasp. I thought you might have been hurt, or your sick was getting worse."

Draco smiled, glad that she cared. He shook his head. "I'm fine. Just a nightmare is all."

"Do you want to talk about it?"

Absolutely not. Not until he worked out the meaning for himself he wouldn't. He didn't want her to know that she was a part of the horror in his dreams. He knew she took dreams very seriously, after having been through so much with Potter and his visions through dreams. She'd learned to take dreams as they were.

Draco eventually shook his head. "No, it's alright. It was just one of those annoying dreams where you can't move or talk. One of those falling dreams."

"Hm, let's see..." Hermione said, yawning. "Falling dreams have to do with feelings of being overwhelmed, with have insecurities or being unsure of something. Dreams where you can't move are all about either sleep paralysis, which is an entirely different concept, or that you're too close to waking up to be able to think about moving in your sleep. And dreams where you can't talk have to do with the fact that there is something you are unable to communicate to others in your real life."

Draco hadn't asked for an explanation, and he wasn't going to ask for a new one about how she knew all of this craziness, but he knew one thing was for sure-every last bit of what she'd said was true. It all made sense. He hated when dreams brought the answer. It was so cliché.

"I don't think I'm worthy enough for the Order."

"Hm?"

"That's right," Draco repeated, feeling a little ashamed of himself for saying it. "I don't feel like I'm entirely worthy to be a part of something so great."

Hermione turned her sleepy eyes towards Draco and placed a surprisingly firm hand on his face. "I don't want to hear those words come out of your mouth ever again."

"But I-"

"No!" She cried, her voice cracking through the lethargy that had been previously coating her tone. "You are worthy! Do you want to know why? Because you left, Draco! Haven't you noticed that only one man has ever done that before, and he was the most noble of any man, ever? And now he's an Order member! Draco, you're perfectly worthy to be in the Order! Ex Death Eater or no, the Order wouldn't be the Order without you anymore. We all trust in you completely. I trust in you completely. Why do you think you're my body guard? And Draco? You're worthy because I know you would never let anything happen to me."

Draco sighed and looked down at his comforter. "But my own father-"

"That doesn't matter," Hermione said, shaking her head. "Because he was on the wrong side. But now, you're on the right side, and you're just as worthy as anyone to be here. If you've got the guts to change sides, to even be so bold as to say you're on the side of the good, then you've got the worth to be there."

Draco sighed. He'd really have to mull over what she'd said before he decided if she was correct, but he decided that her sleepy speech was enough for now, and he didn't want her tired in the morning, so he kissed her forehead, still playing up the "sick" role, and he said, "Thank you, Hermione. I feel so much...calmer now."

She smiled and sleepily got to her feet. "Well...I'm glad. Goodnight, Draco."

"Goodnight, Hermione."

As soon as he'd heard the door across the common room close, he pulled off his shoes and his robes and flopped back down, trying to decide whether or not he believed what that genius had just said.

...

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