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Chapter 15

He didn't remember this part of the Manor grounds. Or if he did it had been years since he'd simply walked and enjoyed the sights and sounds.

The trees were thicker here and the hedgerows loose and informal in contrast to the staunchly maintained gardens that adorned the back of the house.

He ran his hands over a branch of sweet olive, the cloying fragrance dancing in the air around him. The cool green surrounding him a balm to his weary soul.

"Draco"

It was a mere whisper on the breeze.

"Who's there?" He returned, his voice barely carrying on the wind.

"Draco." He heard it again, still faint, but unmistakable.

"Hermione!"

His feet carried him forward a frustratingly slow pace toward the origin of her voice.

He turned a corner and there she was; draped in gauzy white, her curls swirling around her.

He called to her again, but she shot him a coy look over her shoulder and took off, deeper into the trees.

"Hermione!" Excitement and fear laced his tone. "Hermione, wait!"

"Find me, Draco," she called back, her voice fading on the last syllables.

He ran faster and farther into the copse, turning each corner as he saw her disappear again and again.

Making a turn once more, he found himself at the end of the path. He slumped down his hands on his knees as he caught his breath. "Where are you, Hermione?" He sighed.

"I'm so close." Her voice distant and disconnected.

He stood, taking in his surroundings, when he noticed it. A blood orange tree. The dark verdant foliage shone in the bright light of the clearing and the delicate white blossoms swayed merrily in the breeze.

He approached the tree, his hand outstretched to caress the velvet petals when a commotion in the high branches drew his attention.

Perched on the highest branch of the tree was a pure white dove. A dove much like the one that had escaped from Pansy's cage.

"Can you help me?"

The dove cooed.

Draco watched in agony as the dove flew away, and with it - he felt - his only hope.

His eyes flew open as he was pulled from the dream… or was it a nightmare, at this point he wasn't sure. Slumping back into bed, he turned and checked the time. Might as well check in with Potter.

Quickly dressed and ready for his day, Draco, made his way to the Floo. As he rounded the last corner he was stopped by Pansy.

"Well, hello there," she purred, a hand on his bicep as she fluttered her eyelashes at him.

He stepped around her only allowing a curt grunt in acknowledgement. Reaching for the floo powder, he was stopped with a manicured hand atop his own.

"About the other day," she began, a teasing tone lacing her voice, "I don't know what came over me, I was having a bit of an… off day." She shrugged.

He could only offered a non-committal hum of consideration before he finally grasped a handful of floo powder.

Throwing down the glittering dust, he stepped into the grate. But before he could disappear into the network he heard Pansy cry out, "Wait, Draco!" Ignoring her plea, he responded, "Must be off then." Called out his destination and spun away.

It took the length of the Ministry lobby and the lift ride to the Auror office to calm his nerves after the short encounter with Pansy. As he stepped off the lift, he was the picture of Pureblood poise.

"Potter."

"Malfoy." Harry didn't even look up from the file he was reading.

Draco took a seat in front of Harry's desk, tapping his fingers on the arm rest in impatience.

Several minutes passed as Harry read, flipping each page, in what Draco was sure was a deliberate attempt to delay having what they both knew would be the same discussion.

Finally closing the folder, Harry laced his fingers together and peered across the desk at Draco. Draco raised an eyebrow.

Sighing in defeat, Harry pushed his messy hair back and slumped back into the chair. "What do you want from me, Malfoy?"

Draco gave him an expectant shrug.

"You know if I knew anything else you would be the first to know."

"I should hope so."

"I really wish I could do more."

Draco nodded. "I know. I just want her back."

"We all do."

The following days brought more dreams of Hermione. No matter the dream, he was never able to reach her, despite her pleas to find her, to come to her. His frustration mounted. The dreams seemed to be coming in earnest, and Draco was sure that they held the answer, but grasping that answer was frustratingly elusive.

Upon waking from the latest subconscious rendezvous, he decided that a bit of research was in order. His intelligent witch would have his hide to know that he'd not already buried himself in a pile of parchment to solve this problem. But there was no help for it, he would go now.

He strode into the library, steadfastly ignoring the pang of longing being in Hermione's favorite setting brought him. It was in the library at Hogwarts he'd first engaged in civil conversation with her and to be without her now; it sliced him to the quick.

He spent a moment to run his fingers over the aged leather spines, his senses filling with the essence of centuries of knowledge. If… no, when Hermione came back to him, he'd remember to tell her he really understood now. Understood why she held libraries in such reverence. They possessed something far beyond information; they held the promise of understanding, the potential for escape. But today, it was the possibility of answers that Draco sought.

The section on dreams was easy enough to find, however, making a book selection was a bit trickier. The subject of dreams was very popular and the floor to ceiling shelf was full of volumes on the topic. Hermione would know how to choose. He stared up in defeat.

It took several minutes, but Draco used a bit of family magic to find some useful books on dream interpretation and spells associated with dreams.

...it is through this method that the dreamer can improve his or her ability to become an active participant in the dreamscape.

He closed the last book with a huff and stood from the table, stretching his stiff back. Waving his wand at the pile of books, he began to levitate them back to the shelves; as he tucked the final tome back into place he realized he was no longer alone in the library.

Pansy stood at the end of the aisle, her dress short and tight, hair was once again pin straight, and her green eyes heavily lined. "I've been looking everywhere for you."

Draco cleared his throat as she took slow swaying steps toward him. "Well it seems you found me," he said resigned.

She gave a small laugh, dark and unsettling as she reached him. "I certainly have." She stood before him and arched into him, her breasts pressing against his chest as she placed her hand on his shoulders.

Draco's posture stiffened as he lifted his chin, regarding the presumptuous woman before him down the end of his patrician nose. Grasping her wrists he removed her hands from his person.

But she would not be dissuaded, she smirked and began to walk her fingers up his left arm. "Come now, Draco, don't play coy. I've been here for ages now. Don't you think it's time we made some... changes to this arrangement?"

He grasped her hand once more and pointedly placed it by her side. "I agree with you, Pansy." Her eyes lit up and he watched her begin to squirm in anticipation. "I think it's time you began looking for a more permenant housing solution." Her mouth dropped open in shock, but Draco continued on, "Get back to rebuilding your life like you were before." And with that, he stepped around her and hastened from the room, but before the Library doors closed behind him, he heard her squeal of indignation.

He needed to escape more than ever as he stepped out onto the terrace. His feet seemed to carry him of their own volition as he progressed deeper into the Manor gardens. The air held a chill, but he ignored it in favor of embracing the cleansing and awakening sensation of the brisk wind.

The path continued in twists and turns; a labyrinth of hedgerows and flower gardens eventually fading into the natural landscape.

When he finally looked up and took in his surroundings, he realized he was in the same area of the garden that featured in his dreams as of late. Slowing his steps, he paid careful attention to the area. Perhaps his subconscious mind brought him here for a greater purpose than simply escaping Pansy.

The rows were wide and the grass was unruly. He took in lungfuls of the cool green bouquet as he observed the fruit trees, some bursting with blooms, others set to bud. He walked slowly, recognizing each detail from his dreams, when he was stopped by the one detail he had been certain existed in his dream only - the blood orange tree.

There it was, proud and green and covered with soft white blossoms. He approached the tree and sniffed a delicate blossom. Looking up he tried in vain to locate the dove from his dream, but to no avail.

It felt mad; staring at tree for answers, but he did so for several long minutes before slumping at it base and letting his head fall into his hands.

Her breaths were sharp and deliberate; in through the nose and out through the mouth. Breath in. Breath out.

Watching him stare at a tree in longing was a bit much. As she watched him sink at the trunk, she wondered what had happened to the cold, aloof, Draco she grew up with. The one who used his power and connections to get what he wanted. The one who positioned himself for advantage. This Draco was weepy and wretched, though he still had his vault - and his looks - so that was something, right?

He would forget about that filthy Mudblood and he would be hers. Pansy was ready to set her plan in motion… and soon.

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