Once Upon a Dream

Pairing: Dramione (Draco x Hermione)

Universe: eighth year AU

Rating: T

Summary: Olivie Advent concluded. For our very last prompt…

Prompts: a Nutcracker AU, for Aurora.

"It's quiet for Christmas Eve, I'll say that much," Ron remarked in a dull tone, spooning a bit of sugar lethargically into his tea and glancing over his shoulder at the passing form of Padma Patil. "Still," he sighed, watching her sit beside Parvati before dragging his attention back to the subject at hand, "better than the dreary alternative of joining Bill and Fleur at the cottage. What's in your letter, Mione?" he asked tangentially, leaning across the table to where Hermione had just finished reading the note an owl had dropped into her lap five minutes earlier.

"Oh, um. Nothing," she said, forcing brightness. Unfortunately Harry, who was now a person who had defeated a Dark Lord and therefore one who had little time for bollockery, arched a brow in open disagreement. "Alright, fine," Hermione grudgingly conceded, setting the letter on the table between them. "See for yourself."

Just as Harry reached for the letter, Ron's owl Pigwidgeon arrived, struggling overhead with the weight of a rather ordinary-sized package that was several times larger than the owl itself. The package fell to the table with a slap of contact, drawing attention from the other few people scattered across the room.

"Viktor wants you to come to Durmstrang?" Harry read aloud in bewilderment, at precisely the moment Ron had unwrapped his package.

"Bloody hell, what the—"

"Durmstrang?" sounded above Hermione's head, prompting her to look up as Draco was walking by with Theo at his side. "You can't be serious."

She flushed briefly at the sound of his voice, feeling a bit unprepared for his presence despite its relative frequency these days. They had just finished a potions assignment before the holidays, for which they'd both done remarkably well and managed, miraculously, not to kill each other. Lately, instead of being combative in the classroom they'd been courteous, and in private, there were moments when he was almost…

Something.

No, nothing.

Certainly nothing that was worth mentioning, whatever it was.

"Not that it's any of your business, Malfoy," Hermione said primly, bristling a little as Theo's lips thinned in obvious preemptive derision, "but Viktor was… Well." She cleared her throat, finding the presence of an audience abruptly discomfiting. "He was merely suggesting that if it's too difficult to sit for my N.E.W.T.s at Hogwarts, I should consider, erm. Staying with him," she coughed up. "To sit for my exams at Durmstrang instead."

"Ah yes, it's your exams he's concerned about, I'm sure," Draco sneered. It was a tone she hadn't heard from him in years, or at the very least in months, and within Hermione's chest, an old impulse seemed to tighten and constrict, launching her back to her younger self as she struggled not to sting with insult.

Evidently she'd been right; nothing had changed between them after all. He was clearly just as unbearable as he'd always been.

"So," Draco prompted, folding his arms combatively over his chest. "The golden girl runs off and leaves her broken castle behind for someone else to fix, then?"

Hermione flinched. "First of all, if anyone's gone and broken the castle—"

"Oi," Theo cut in, jutting his chin across the table. "Looks just like you, Malfoy."

The others stopped talking as Ron gingerly plucked the strange item he'd received from its box, staring at it in total bewilderment. It was a small wooden doll, or so it looked at first glance, wearing a soldier's uniform.

"What the fuck is that?" demanded Draco, shrinking back from it.

"A voodoo doll, I hope," muttered Ron under his breath, turning it over to toy with the little wooden lever.

"It's a nutcracker, you dolts," Hermione grumbled as Draco flicked his wand, summoning it from Ron's hand to scrutinize it with a scowl.

"Well, whatever it is, it has your eyes," commented Theo to Draco, "not to mention your milky complexion."

"For fuck's sake, Nott, do shut up—"

"Give it back," Hermione snapped at the two of them, and Draco glared at her, slamming the nutcracker down in front of Harry in response.

"Well forgive me, Granger, but as ever we have better things to do than linger," Draco drawled. "Enjoy Durmstrang. I hear the sun shines almost three whole days out of the year," he remarked, and then practically slithered away, leaving Hermione to turn to Harry with a roll of her eyes.

He, however, was ignoring Draco entirely, waiting for something from her instead. "Well?"

"Well what?" she demanded, prompting him to cock a brow in answer. "Oh, I don't know," she grumbled irritably, snatching the letter back from him. "It's just… Well, he might have a point about needing a change of scenery, just for sanity's sake. I mean, it's a bit odd, isn't it?" She swallowed, glancing around the room. "So many people gone, and after such a horrid year…"

She trailed off, and Harry and Ron exchanged a glance.

"I suppose it isn't the worst idea," Ron managed unwillingly.

Harry said nothing.

"All he said was that I should think about it. Nothing final. Anyway, what's this about?" Hermione demanded, nudging the nutcracker back towards Ron. "Some sort of bizarre gift from your mother?"

"I suppose," Ron said with a shrug, "or possibly some oddity from my father, but whoever it's from, they've forgotten a note."

"Well, it's certainly quite odd," Hermione judged with sudden, blistering impatience.

Again, Harry and Ron exchanged a glance in silence.

"Yeah," said Harry eventually, directing his attention to his toast. "A bit odd, that's all."

The three of them went up to their respective bedrooms very infrequently, particularly now that classes weren't in session due to the onslaught of the holidays. That night, they were huddled together in the Gryffindor common room; Hermione in the chair beside the fire, Harry lying on his back beside the hearth, and Ron taking up the entire sofa with his interminably long legs. The nutcracker sat on the side table between them, face turned up to where Hermione was reading until she frowned at it, unnerved.

"Sometimes it's hard to believe it's really over," Ron commented, breaking the silence.

They all knew what he meant. It was difficult to sleep these days, owing mostly to the difficulty of recovering from the war. Harry in particular didn't sleep well, according to Ron. He often sat upright in a cool sweat, ringing out his t-shirt in the bathroom and then returning quietly, unaware Ron had witnessed the whole thing.

When neither of the others spoke, Ron stretched out from where he was lying on the sofa, knocking the nutcracker from where it sat upon the table onto the floor.

"Ah, buggering fuck," he said, and Hermione rolled her eyes, leaning over to pick it up. The arm had broken off, so she repaired it with a quick charm, setting the nutcracker back down on the table and then running her finger carefully over the thin fracture where the break had been.

"Sometimes I think maybe it's not over at all," Hermione murmured, though it was buried beneath the sound of the fire crackling in the hearth.

Hermione woke sometime after midnight to find that Harry and Ron must have finally gone up to bed. She sat upright, groggily stretching to her feet, and realized that something, somewhere, was off: as her eyes adjusted to the low glow of the aging fire, she could see the common room sofa had been torn apart by what looked like claws. The upholstery was ripped, the frothy white down from the pillows littering the floor, and there was a pool of dark liquid where a cup had been overturned.

Hermione shot to her feet with a gasp as she heard a low hiss, a heavy slither on the floor. She hunted for her wand, digging helplessly through her pockets, but there was nothing. Rapidly, it was as if the room had started to grow, or else she had started to shrink; the sound of the snake came closer and closer, and when Hermione stumbled backwards she collided with what once had been a table leg, fear compressing her lungs as she struggled to run.

"Harry," she shouted desperately. "Ron!"

"Get down," hissed a voice, and she turned to find the nutcracker speaking to her in Draco's voice, his face and limbs wooden and stiff. The arm that had broken was held carefully to his chest, slung there with uncertainty as if he had his doubts it could be used. "Have you lost your mind?"

"I have to find them!"

He yanked her back again with his free hand and she rounded on him, furious.

"Listen Malfoy, or… Nutcracker, or whoever the hell you are—"

"Stay down and be quiet," he snapped. "Do you want to fight with me or do you want to survive?"

"I—"

She watched the snake's shadow morph from where it was silhouetted by the flames, becoming the shape of a hooded figure.

"No," Hermione said, scrambling backwards into the nutcracker's chest. "No, no, it can't be—"

"You have fought," said a cold, high voice, "valiantly."

She wanted to scream. She wanted to be sick. She squirmed as the nutcracker held her back with his good arm, her stomach wrenching at the thought of it: I knew it. I knew he wasn't gone. He'll never be gone, not really—

"If you continue to resist me, you will all die, one by one. I do not wish this to happen. Every drop of magical blood spilled is a loss and a waste."

It'll never be over, if I stay here it'll never end—

"Lord Voldemort is merciful," the voice said, but the rising volume of Hermione's panic seemed to have reached a breaking point, contorting something for her. Somewhere, something in her head seemed to snap.

"Oh, fuck you," she suddenly said, and then she tore furiously from the nutcracker's reach, tripping over the shoes Ron had left beside the sofa (as he always did) and plucking one up from the ground, lunging forward. "FUCK. YOU," she said clearly and calmly, tossing Ron's dirty old trainer directly into the head of the resurrected Lord Voldemort.

It was hopeless—she knew it was hopeless, even if rage was hardly ever rational—but somehow, she watched in amazement as the cloaked figure suddenly careened to the ground, twitching and falling still. There was a whorl of wind around her, the flames from the hearth dancing up to the height of the ceiling, and then, as the cloak of Lord Voldemort went up in flames, the nutcracker grabbed her arm, yanking her out of the common room.

They kept running until they reached the forest, the castle blazing behind them. Hermione doubled over upon planting her feet on sodden earth, panting from the effort; she rounded on the nutcracker the moment she caught her breath, managing, "We have to find them. We have to find Harry and Ron, we have to make sure they're safe—"

But before she could continue, there was a glimmer from the corner of her eye, and she turned to find… Harry.

Only it wasn't Harry.

Was it?

"Hermione," said Harry in relief, proving that it was, in fact, him, but she had never seen him like this before. The glasses and the gangling were gone, and in their place stood Harry in full prince's garb, wearing a coat so fine he shone an opalescent gold, like spun sugar. On his head was a crown edged with diamonds, its many facets glinting in the sun, and behind him the forest was thoroughly white with snow, the trees blanketed with powder.

"You did it, Hermione," he said adoringly, seeming to float towards her as he took her hand. "You defeated Lord Voldemort."

"What? No, I—you did that," she reminded him, baffled and therefore flustered, but Harry only smiled.

"Come," he said, beckoning her after him. "You should see what the world looks like now that you've set us free."

"But—" She followed him uncertainly, blinking. "But Harry—"

"You can come too," Harry said over her shoulder, and Hermione turned in confusion, finding to her astonishment that the nutcracker, wooden and hardly moving just moments before, had somehow been transformed by a flurry of snow. Where once had stood an odd, moderately damaged toy was now a familiar form: another prince, this one bedecked in silver. He was so radiant it nearly hurt Hermione's eyes to look at him, reflective from the gleam of his pale hair to the thrill of his grey eyes.

"Well, I thought you'd never ask," drawled the nutcracker-prince, his hair glinting amid the snow's pale sheen as he turned to Hermione. "Shall we?"

He offered her his arm, but she, skeptic that she was, set her jaw.

"Let's just go find Ron," she muttered, shoving past him to enter the forest alone.

The Forbidden Forest was nothing like Hermione remembered. It was filled with lush evergreens, just as it had always been, but now the air smelled like baking sweets, the ground a deep, saturated chocolate. Harry offered her a lift atop a thestral, which she accepted. Before she could say anything else, though, the nutcracker had climbed on as well, settling himself behind her.

"Who said you could come?" she hissed at him.

"That's quite the thank you for helping you escape," he observed.

"You didn't help me escape, you just—"

But she broke off as they entered a forest clearing bedecked in paper lanterns that glittered with color, pigmented dew drops in a celebration of light. The lanterns littered the trees like ornaments, filling the height of the forest as far as Hermione's eyes could see, and on the ground were a series of silks below little tongues of flame: candles that glinted joyously upwards, leading them down a narrow path. Overhead, Hermione caught the signs of fireworks and stared for a moment, forgetting entirely what she was saying as another familiar form came into view.

"Oh good, you're here," Ron said cheerily, manifesting from beneath a canopy to reveal himself in a tunic fashioned with red silk. "I'm so relieved you saved us."

"I didn't save you, Ron," Hermione said uncomfortably. "Don't you remember? Harry saved us, but if Voldemort came back once, he could easily come back ag-"

"Ron?" came a voice through the clearing.

Hermione looked up to see Padma Patil standing at the other end of the clearing, wrapped in a floaty red veil that perfectly matched the silk of Ron's tunic.

"What's Padma doing here?" Hermione asked, turning in befuddlement to address the question to Harry before realizing that he and his thestral were both gone. "Oh no, not again—Ron," she said, turning back to him in apprehension. "Ron, listen, we have to—"

But Ron had taken Padma's hand, pulling her into his circle of light and beginning to dance with her, slowly. He revolved in place, his eyes never falling from hers, and Padma reached up to brush his hair from his forehead, both of them behaving as if Hermione wasn't even there.

"Ron!" Hermione said in desperation, but the nutcracker's arms tightened around her, taking the reins gently from her hands.

"Let them have their peace," said the nutcracker, spurring the thestral further into the forest.

Beyond the lights and silks came the unexpected sound of water. The forest had somehow cleared away to the sea, and from the emblazoned greens and reds came a deep, cerulean blue. To Hermione's astonishment, Bill and Fleur rose up from the waves in robes of chiffon, manifesting from the ocean foam like gods from the deep. The sound of the sea itself rushed like blood in her ear, filling her lungs with salt while the path beneath them turned to soft, unblemished sand.

"Looking for someone?" asked Bill, though he didn't look up from where his gaze was currently fixed. He had his arm around Fleur, whose sea-robes were clinging to her hips and shrouding her breasts as she gave a little siren-laugh, melodic and lustfully sweet.

"I need to find Harry," Hermione said, feeling a little flush in her cheeks as Bill's hands started to wander, caressing his wife's backside. He lifted her up from the waves without any concern for Hermione's presence, Fleur's long legs wrapping around his torso to settle herself astride his hips. "Bill, have you, um… Have you seen him, or…? I'm just a little worried," Hermione called, blinking rapidly as Bill's tongue emerged to slide along the arch of Fleur's pale throat. "You know, since Voldemort came back," she hastily explained, "I'm not quite sure if he's safe, so—"

"He's gone, Hermione. It's over." Bill growled it into Fleur's neck, and Fleur laughed, tearing free from his arms and darting playfully into the sea. "He's gone," Bill called again, and then swept Fleur up with one arm like a tidal wave, dragging her under the deep and disappearing with a husky laugh, leaving Hermione behind to swallow uncomfortably.

"Well," Hermione said, suddenly conscious of the nutcracker's arms still around her waist where they rode astride the thestral. "That was unhelpful."

The nutcracker chuckled in her ear. "They don't care to be disturbed, I suppose."

"I… suppose not," Hermione said uncomfortably. "But still, if Harry's in trouble, we ought to go."

"We could stay," the nutcracker suggested, gesturing with his chin to where Bill and Fleur had disappeared. "They seem to be having fun, don't they?

She squirmed a little in his arms.

"Let's just go," she said, giving the thestral a nudge with her heels.

"I told you," she said the moment they arrived back in the forest. This time the thickness of the canopy blocked out the sun, and within seconds they were enveloped in unrelenting darkness. "I told you he was still here somewhere!"

She struggled down from the thestral, searching for a source of light, when suddenly the nutcracker pulled a sword free from the sheath around his hips, wrenching a blade of blinding illumination from his scabbard as if he'd cast a Lumos along its edge.

"Here," he said, handing it to her. "Try this."

"Oh. Thanks." She cleared her throat gruffly, venturing forward with him in her wake. "Well—"

"Herm-ow-ninny," came a voice, and Hermione swept the blade upright, catching the glint of Viktor's face at what seemed to be a distance. "You haff decided to come! Vat excellent news," Viktor said, half his face shining with pleasure from the sword's edge as he stepped closer. "I am so pleased."

"Viktor, it's… quite dark here," Hermione said uncertainly. "Don't you have, um… something?"

"It is dark everyvere, Herm-ow-ninny," said Viktor sagely, stepping towards her again. "You know this."

"Well, right, but if Voldemort is still here somewhere, we really ought to be able to see, so—"

"Don't be silly," said Viktor, one of his hands closing around Hermione's wrist. "Come, let us hide over here, you haff nothing to fear anymore—"

"Wait, Viktor don't—Nutcracker, help!" Hermione shouted, panicked, and felt his hand slip around hers, tugging her out of the darkness as the light of the sword's edge was swallowed up in a sudden, encasing gleam.

She stumbled in his arms, finding herself at the edge of the forest clearing again. This time, when the nutcracker released her, Hermione looked up to find Harry standing there with a placid smile, confusion evident on his face.

"What are you doing?" he asked, guilelessly puzzled. "You look frightened."

"Harry, I'm—"

She shrank back as a shadowed figure emerged once again from the corner of her eye; just like the snake. Just like Lord Voldemort. Once again, someone was approaching Harry in a mask, shrouded arms outstretched beneath a heavy black cloak.

"Harry," she gasped. "Harry, WATCH OUT!"

But the man had already slid the mask from his face, tossing it to the ground for it to be swallowed up by a yawn from the forest floor.

"Oi, Potter," said Theo Nott. "Been looking for you."

To Hermione's continued disbelief, Harry turned with a smile, reaching for Theo's cheek with one hand and tugging him closer. "There you are," Harry said, before doing the absolute least possible thing and kissing Theo's lips lightly, gently. "I was just about to tell Hermione how we're safe here," he explained to Theo, turning back to face Hermione with a look of contented rapture. "It was a long journey, wasn't it?" he asked her wistfully. "So perhaps you don't know yet how everything turns out. Voldemort's gone, but you're still here. And I promise," he said, lacing his fingers blindly with Theo's, "there is peace eventually, Hermione. For all of us, there is peace."

"But," Hermione said, and frowned. "But… is this…"

The word real lingered on her tongue, but in the span of her inability to voice it, Harry soon lost interest. Theo pulled Harry into him again, and Hermione felt a familiar touch on her arm coaxing her backwards, towards the castle.

This time, she let herself be led, dizzily numb and uncertain until the moment the nutcracker paused, turning towards her and waiting in silence for her to speak.

"What if he isn't really gone?" she finally managed to whisper in confession, and the nutcracker took her face gently in his hands.

"You're safe here," he told her. "You can stay here."

"But what if I'll always be afraid? What if I never believe I'm actually safe?"

She looked up to find him observing her in penitent silence, that familiar grey gaze settling gently on hers as if he'd already seen the future. As if he already knew she would wind up here one day, with her hands held securely in his.

"You're safe here," he said again, and when he leaned forward, Hermione felt the words blooming over her lips like spring itself, rising up to heat her cheeks and warming her from the inside out, like the crackle of a midnight fire.

"Don't go," the nutcracker whispered to her lips, and Hermione clung to him, wanting to say I won't, I won't leave, I promise, but the warmth was pulling her elsewhere, out of the snow, away from the trees, and she slipped away from him gradually, one finger at a time.

Hermione opened her eyes to find embers dying in the hearth, a little drool on the pillow beneath her cheek. She sat up, glancing from Harry to Ron, and frowned, blinking, as she remembered the nutcracker sitting beside her chair, still staring lifelessly at her.

It was morning by then, the sun creeping in through the tower windows to fill the common room with early light. It was Christmas morning, she remembered, and decided it would be best if she busied herself by fetching some cocoa for Ron and Harry when they woke.

She crept into the corridor, still a little shaken by her odd and vivid dream, and suddenly collided with someone outside the portrait.

"Fuck, balls, I—"

She looked up to find herself leaned against Draco Malfoy's chest for balance, having staggered unexpectedly into him.

"You really do look like that nutcracker," she remarked without thinking, and he opened his mouth, then closed it.

She could see him battling with himself to prevent saying something dickish in reply, so she sighed, figuring it was best to just get it over with, and managed a slightly stiff, "What are you doing here?"

That was when she noticed the envelope in his hand, her name sprawled across it in careful, premeditated script.

"Nothing," he muttered, "I was just—"

He winced, catching her swift glance of confusion, and then sighed, shaking his head.

"Don't go," he said miserably. "I've been a prick, I know, and you've no reason to stay, but—"

A pause.

"Don't go," he repeated softly, and she blinked, disarmed by the tone of sentiment.

Before she could reply, the portrait opened behind her, Harry and Ron's voices pouring out from the common room in their wake. Hastily, Draco released her, turning gruffly towards the stairs and shoving the note back into his pocket as he went.

"—should've figured it was from George. Apparently he put some sort of hallucinogenic vial inside it to smuggle to seventh years? Doesn't care whether I'm his intoxicant drug mule, obviously, plus then he forgot to put the note with instructions inside the—Oh, Mione," Ron remarked with surprise, colliding with her precisely as she'd just collided with Draco. "What are you doing out here?"

Someday, Hermione was pretty sure she would have to tell him to talk to Padma instead of staring longingly at her from afar. But for now, she was already running, catching hastily up to Draco on the stairs and tugging him back before he could settle both feet on the landing.

"Wait," she gulped, pausing breathlessly as he turned to face her. Above their heads, a little sprig of mistletoe unfurled and stretched its leaves, blossoming with promise.

"Yes?" he prompted, but by then, she didn't bother with a reply.

The kiss she gave him, steady and safe and sure, was answer enough for them both.

a/n: We did it! A miracle. Thank you so much for your prompts and for following along with me this advent; I really wanted to give you all a little something as a thank you for being here another marvelous year, so I hope you found it enjoyable (or, at the very least, a pleasant distraction).

In personal news, you can now find my next release, THE ATLAS SIX, on my website. Also, while my personal advent has concluded, I will be back tomorrow to post my D/Hr Advent fic. Until then—Merry Christmas Eve, Happy Hanukkah, and many besos from the wasteland!