This one is a longer chapter! I'm pretty proud of it!

Hermione sighed in annoyance. She had combed through every single one of the books multiple times. There was absolutely nothing! Absolutely zero information!

Malfoy had fallen asleep a few hours ago at her behest. He'd been suspiciously quiet all day, and she couldn't figure out why. She'd asked him before he went to bed if he was all right, but he'd simply shrugged and nodded.

There were simply too many issues to address. Figuring out Constantine's plot, deciding if it was wise to go to the Headmaster or Professor McGonagall, finding out why Malfoy was suddenly so mopey, trying to unstick herself from him before the Quidditch season was over, and of course, staying on top of classes and studying for exams.

Hermione stifled a yawn. It was getting closer to dawn. Perhaps it would help to take a short nap, she thought reluctantly.

She settled against her pillows, careful to keep her back to Malfoy so the light from her wand wouldn't wake him.

The moment she'd gone from sitting straight on her bed to laying down, all the tension left her body. Before she could even extinguish the light from her wand, sleep overtook her.

When Hermione opened her eyes, the first thing she realized was that she was floating. For one terrifying moment, she thought she'd died in her sleep and accidentally become a ghost.

I'm dreaming, she realized. It was true. She could feel the thick heaviness of deep sleep permeating through her consciousness.

That settled, Hermione looked around. She was in a room, though she couldn't recognize it. There were no windows, only a Potions set in the corner and a small table pushed up against one of the walls.

There was a sudden noise, and a door she hadn't previously noticed flung open.

A girl walked in. Hermione thought she couldn't have been more than sixteen or seventeen years old, but when the outside light hit her face, Hermione's heart stopped.

The girl was pale, even for the British. She had sharp features, well-defined and precise. Her hair, though pushed back, was a mass of dark brown curls, just as aristocratic as the rest of her.

It was her eyes, though, that truly frightened Hermione. Her brown eyes were filled with a jagged intelligence, a haughty aptitude.

This was not Rodolphus Lestrange. This was not Bellatrix Lestrange.

Draco Malfoy had not been lying.

Constantine Lestrange came into the room. She slammed the door shut behind her and muttered under her breath. Immediately, one lantern on each wall lit up.

She tossed a book across the room, evidently aiming for the table. It fell short, the cover lying open.

Constantine rolled her eyes and went to check on the Potions set. She opened the last vial and dropped a silvery substance – unicorn blood! – into the small cauldron, watching carefully to see what would happen.

When nothing did, Constantine placed the vial back in its spot and rolled her eyes.

She turned back and looked right through Hermione at the book she'd thrown. Hermione let out a sigh of relief when she realized Constantine wasn't looking at her.

"He was just a kook." She muttered, in a clear, clipped accent.

After a beat, she turned and walked out of the room.

Hermione waited until the door shut to rush across the room. She reached for the Potions set, only to realize that her hands slid right through everything that she touched.

She cursed under her breath.

Okay, Hermione, focus.

The Potions set was pretty big, almost half of the entire wall. There was a mini-cauldron at the culmination of it, set up so anyone could light a fire underneath it if something needed to boil. The vials at front were filled with all sorts of ingredients. Some were easy to identify, like bat wings and newt's eyes, but others…she just hoped the reddish-black one wasn't human blood.

There were ten vials filled with a silvery substance, obviously thick and slightly shimmering.

Unicorn blood.

"What could Constantine do with this?" Hermione mumbled to herself. She took a quick look through the rest of the vials, but they all seemed to be the types of ingredients that would come with a normal Potions set.

There was one more vial at the end of the set, positioned directly above the cauldron. Although that was against proper Potions practices, the vial looked empty, so Hermione assumed that was why Constantine hadn't bothered to move it.

As she turned away, the vial glinted out of the corner of her eye. Hermione cocked her head and peered closer.

What originally looked like a clear vial actually held exactly one ingredient.

One strand of hair.

Blond hair.

Hair that looked very familiar.

Hermione pulled back, suddenly sick to her stomach. Off the top of her head, she could already think of several potions that would require someone's hair, not the least nefarious Polyjuice Potion – or worse.

She tried to grab for it a few times, but of course, her hand only slid through. She wasn't actually here – wherever here was.

Hermione swore again. Now she could understand why Malfoy was always in a bad mood.

She looked around the room one more time, trying to find anything that could place her location, or give her any more information.

The book Constantine had thrown was still on the ground. Her poor treatment of it only made Hermione loathe her more. She desperately wished she could pick it up and place it on the table neatly, maybe with a bookmark. Honestly, what kind of character throws a book?

Approaching it, Hermione lost hope that she'd be able to see the book's title. It was sprawled open, and there was no way she could flip it. However, she could clearly see that it was a journal, not typewritten.

The title of the page said, "Divining Dreams".

"Three leeches, knotgrass, one Occamy eggshell, pearl dust, and hair of the person you wish to call to visit in their dreams." Hermione read aloud.

It took a moment before she realized what she had just read.

This was how Constantine had been giving Malfoy those dreams!

But – how could this be? This wasn't in any of the known books or Potions in the Wizarding World! Did this mean that Constantine had meant to pull Hermione into this room? How was she getting such a steady supply of Malfoy's hair? Who'd written this book? Where was this information coming from?

Hermione desperately clawed at the book, trying to turn it to the next page or flip it over to see who had written it. It was yellowed with age, and there seemed to be some sticking charm on it to keep the pages from falling off, but besides that, there was no other clue.

She hissed in frustration. There had to be something!

The door opened once again, and Constantine poked her head into the room. Hermione hurriedly stood and backed away, trying to be as quiet as possible. There was every possibility that Constantine had meant to call her here…

"Accio, book." Constantine said clearly, pointing her wand at the book. It flew into her hands, and she let out a sigh. "As unhelpful as you are, you have worked in the past. Don't fail my master now, Merlin."

Hermione sucked in a breath. Merlin?

Constantine murmured something and the lanterns extinguished themselves. She stepped into the room and closed the door behind her. She turned around slowly, and her eyes met Hermione's.

Her mother's eyes.

"Well, hello there, mudblood. I didn't see you until now."

Hermione jerked backward.

Constantine shook her head slowly. "Where are my manners? We haven't been properly introduced yet. I, of course, know you. The mudblood who helped the Boy Who Lived. The dirtyblood – who's currently corrupting my pureblood cousin. Do you know me?"

Hermione kept her mouth shut, reaching into her pocket only to remember her wand was back in her dorm.

"Oh, what horrible etiquette have you. Don't you know you're supposed to answer a question when a superior being directs it to you?" Constantine turned, and Hermione took the moment to roll her eyes.

"Forget it, Constantine. We defeated Voldemort, and we'll defeat you, too. There's no place in this world for bigotry and hatred. All it gets you is war and pain."

Constantine smiled a little. "Ah, so my cousin has told you about me."

Hermione winced a little. Oops.

"No matter." She shrugged, and her smile made Hermione shudder. "I'm sure you know by now, then, that I'm far more powerful than Voldemort ever was, and you ever will be. In fact, how about a demonstration?"

She muttered something under breath. Hermione could hear the tail-end of the spell, but she didn't understand the words at all. Then, she strode out of the room.

The door shut, and Hermione was left in the dark room, only lit by the dim light coming from the outline of the door.

Nothing happened. Hermione looked around. The room was exactly the same, sans book. The same table, the same Potions set – the same sofa, the same television set, the same coffee table – wait…

Hermione blinked the sun out of her eyes. She was facing a man and woman, a couple she'd known her entire life.

"I'm sorry, dear." The woman told her. "But your parents don't live here. You've made a mistake with the address."

"You are my parents!" Hermione told them. "I don't know why the memory spell didn't work! It should have!"

"We don't have a daughter." The man told her gruffly. "Monica and I are childless. I'm sorry for your trouble, but you should probably go."

Hermione choked back tears. "No, yes, of course. I'm sorry for bothering you."

"Look at her buck teeth!" One of the older boys yelled. Hermione twisted around – how did she get to her primary school playground? Hadn't she…no, she'd always been here. Yes, her mother had dropped her off in the morning – but wasn't her mother – memories…

"Beaver face!" Someone yelled. "Beaver face!"

She covered her mouth with her hands, running to the door. A snowball hit the back of her jacket. A second one hit her ear. The snow exploded to reveal the ice inside the snowball. The teacher wouldn't let her inside the building.

Dumbledore was sitting behind his desk in his office, handing her a lemon drop. Hermione twisted around, trying to remember how she got here.

"Don't worry, the Ministry will work tirelessly to find out how to restore your parents' memories." He told her kindly. "You needn't worry."

Her father's empty, rough words echoed in her head. She nodded, once again holding back her sobs.

"Mudblood!" Pansy Parkinson shrieked as she rushed away. The other girls laughed, even the ones in Gryffindor. She knew they hated her. Ron Weasley passed by, with Harry Potter and another small group of boys.

"A nightmare, that one! It's no wonder she hasn't got any friends!"

She rushed to the girls' bathroom, not able to stop the tears from wetting her cheeks.

Bellatrix was standing over her. Her wand was gone. Her friends were trapped. There was only pain.

Pain…her clothes were soaked with blood.

"This is your place!" Bellatrix screamed. "I'll get the magic out of you if I have to kill you! You don't deserve magic!"

"HERMIONE WAKE UP!"

Hermione shot up.

Draco Malfoy stood over her, his hands on her shoulders. Books were strewn all over the floor, and her wand was in her hand, pointed toward him. She dropped it.

She'd just relived the worst moments of her life.

Malfoy sat on the edge of the bed and wordlessly held his arms out.

Hermione bit her lip, trying to hold back her tears. She leaned into his arms, closing her eyes and wishing he could block out her memories like he could block out the cold.

"It's okay, I'm here." He whispered into her ear, and she realized she was crying.

"It – dream nightmare because of – and him. Bellatrix and – magic…mom and dad…Merlin's hair."

Malfoy ran his fingers through her hair, somehow avoiding all the tangles. "It's okay, you don't have to tell me right now. Just breathe, Hermione. In….out….in…out. Take a deep breath. I'm here. It's okay now. You're safe."

She buried her face in his shirt. She wished she didn't know that he was lying.