Disposable Heroes
By: ann no aku
Special Note: Thank you so much to all of my loyal readers! Thanks to Danny, Niki, Morigan Riddle, The Totally Sarcastic Sprite, Malfoyz gurl, and all the others whom have been reading this from the beginning! ann no aku loves to get reviews of love, though flaming is permitted. Thanks again!
General Disclaimer: Harry Potter belongs to J.K Rowling. The title belongs to Metallica from their Master of Puppets album.
Summary: It is Hermione's seventh year at Hogwarts, and she is not the Head Girl. As a matter of fact, she is not even at Hogwarts! Instead, Hermione Granger is spending two months abroad studying Muggles in America with her all time enemy Draco Malfoy. Why had Draco been chosen to go on this trip and how come his parents don't know about it?
Rating: PG-13
Author's Notes: I tried to portray the characters as well as I can without them appearing OOC. Any questions, e-mail me at ann_no_aku@yahoo.com
Chapter: Four
Chapter Title: A Dream is Just a Dream
Opening quote: "I saw my death in a dream. I was an old man. How do I know I won't survive this? Perhaps it will pass, and I will get better. To dream is prophecy." "Prophecy is a guess that comes true. When it doesn't, it's a metaphor. You could put a gun to your head tomorrow and pull the trigger, and the dream is just a dream and a prophecy is just a metaphor. And so are you." JMS
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"Stop! No, please." He tried to escape the shadowed figure, but somehow He always managed to catch him. "Imperio!" the Shadow had shouted. "Finite Incantum!" He yelled at the same time, but it was too late. He could not move! Instead he just kept falling. It seemed to last forever until-THUD! He fell to the bottom of a dark pit. The ground felt hard and soft at the same time. He tried to feel around for something to bring him back up, but his body felt weak. The Imperio curse had left him powerless; the Unforgivable Curse had left him drained. There was nothing he could do but sleep on the floor and hope that when he'd wake again He would be gone.
The Shadow was still there beckoning him. It had followed him down to the abyss. It hissed words of seduction in his ear and bit his arm. The Shadow's venom burned him and left an odd shaped scar. It itched and tingled. He could not see the mark it had left on his sore appendage. "What-What are you doing to me?" He demanded of the Shadow. "Is He here, Shadow?" Somehow that question had come to mind. To whom was he referring, anyway, and why was he talking to the Shadow? The venom must have some odd effects, he decided.
"He does not know you are here," the Shadow hissed. "But he can be if you let him. Call him to you."
"How do I do that?"
"Morsmordre."
"What is that?" he asked of the Shadow starting to see in the dark now. It was as though the venom had brought him back to life. He was reborn and seeing through the eyes of a snake.
"It is charm that calls upon all whom have been bitten."
"You bit me," he told the Shadow. He suddenly felt afraid to look at the Shadow. What would he see with this sudden new sight he had been given?
"Look at me," the Shadow commanded. Its words sounded like air leaking from a pipe. "I know you want to, boy."
But he didn't. What would he see? "I-I can't."
"I have given you life. Look at me!" it urged.
He rolled his head to the other side and met the face of the Shadow. At first the Shadow looked a lot like-
"Hermione," he whispered. "Why is it you?"
"Draco, what is the matter with you?" He had said her name almost passionately. It sounded strange. His voice was tired. "Why are you on the floor in the hallway? I had to use the restroom and nearly tripped over you."
Hallway? No. He was in a pit! And Hermione was the Shadow.
"Draco!"
As if something snapped within him, he shot up and leaned against the wall for support. Sweat beads trailed down his brow and his hair was a mess atop his head. "I feel sick." He ran to the bathroom and collapsed next to the toilet. He could not control what happened next. A blaze burned in his stomach and it flew out of his mouth like a dragon spitting fire. It tasted like acid.
She had followed him and watched him as he heaved. It hurt her to see him so pained. "What happened?"
"It's this American food, Mudblood. They use too much fat and oils."
"You're lying," she whispered surprised that she could muster the confidence to say those words. His sudden illness had both shocked and upset her. Draco Malfoy did not get sick so easily, and if he did he would not show it to her! She was the last person on the Earth he'd want to be weak in front of.
"What is it to you, you nosey little bitch?" he cursed and started immediately brushing his teeth after he flushed the toilet. "You're not starting to care, are you?"
"No!"
"Good, because it would be insulting to have a girl like you fall in love with me." He left her alone in the still dark bathroom and crawled back into his bunk bed. Draco felt so foolish for letting the stupid little Mudblood see him so weak. He quickly fell back asleep and found it to be most peaceful.
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"I don't understand it, Lucius. Usually Draco writes to us as soon as he gets to school," Narcissa said at dinner Monday evening.
"I would not fret too much. It is his final year at that wretched school." He saw her face scrunch up. "Excellent meal this is. That new house elf was really quite a deal."
"Do you think he is alright? I can always owl Dumbledore," she said returning the conversation back to her son.
"Oh, Narcissa, the boy is fine!" he exclaimed and slammed his napkin down next to his goblet after wiping his mouth. White wine sloshed around and nearly escaped the rim of the glass. "Now, what is for dessert?"
"Your favorite," she swallowed down some of her own wine, "Pecan Bourbon Crème Brulee."
"Marvelous." With a wave of the hand his and her plates were gone and replaced with fancy bowls of their dessert. "Oh, this is just marvelous. Don't you think, Narcissa?"
"Of course," she agreed and took a small spoonful into her mouth.
"I was thinking, love, what we should do for Christmas. We have not traveled much lately."
"You have been busy," she reminded finishing off her third glass of wine.
"Well that is to be expected with me now working. It is a very well paying job, is it not? Otherwise how could we pay for the new house elf and all of our wonderful things?"
Narcissa did not answer. Instead she proceeded with her crème brulee.
"It sure has been quiet with the Ministry of Magic lately. They are barely even discussed in the papers. Curious," he became lost in this thoughts. Lucius did not see as an owl sat waiting at his window in his dining room hoping to be let in from the damp outside. "Curious, isn't it, Narcissa?"
"Yes."
"Will you come to bed early tonight, dear?"
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"Mrs. Roberts," Hermione came downstairs into the kitchen still in her pajamas the next morning. It was quite early but she was not surprised to see the woman so busily prepping breakfast.
"Please, call me Sandy," she smiled and fumbled through a cook book. "Is there something the matter, dear?"
"Sort of; I am worried about Draco."
"Is there something wrong with him?" Hermione's words had created a fear within her. "What is it?"
"He got ill last night. I do not think he is fit for school today."
"Is he sick? Do I need to call a doctor? Must I inform his school?" Her normally happy face was stricken with worry and panic. "Why don't you help me by making him a cup of tea?"
"Alright." She padded around the kitchen searching for the mugs and the tea bags when she remembered that he did not like tea. As a matter of fact, he had almost choked on it the last and first time he had had it. No, she told herself, he is a spoiled little brat who is too used to getting his own way. Still something bothered him last night. What was it?
"Bring him up some crackers too, please. I just hope that he will not have to leave early. Draco is really a good person but with a very empty soul. Did you ever notice that about him? No matter what, he is alone even around you."
"We are not exactly the best of friends," Hermione replied and turned on the kettle. "He does not like me."
"So I've heard, but I don't believe it. I think he chooses not to like you but deep down he has this strong respect for you that even he does not yet realize. Poor child, he probably does not get much attention at home."
She had not thought about it that way before! How could she have been so blind? But, Hermione reminded herself, he still hates me and always will. Nothing can change that. "His father is very rich and buys him lots of things."
"My family is rich, Hermione, and we buy nice things, too. But purchasing one gifts all the time is not love. Eric has been brought up in a very family oriented person, and I would love to have had more of a family if I could. Unfortunately I had something wrong with my uterus after Eric was born and was not able to bear another child."
"How horrible." She found a bag of crackers and set it on the counter next to the cup and saucer.
"It was, yes, but I survived it. You can't go through life hating the bad things that come across your way. You can only pity them. You cannot help but to pity all that has this need—this hunger to corrupt others' lives. Yet in the end, everything is well. Once you manage to survive that bad part in your life, you are a better person."
"You are a very positive woman, Mrs. Rob—er, Sandy."
"You have to be in this world."
Soon enough the teapot screamed and the hot water was poured into its proper mug. Steam wafted above it. Hermione poured in some sugar and creamer then mixed all of the contents together. She had chosen to make him a chamomile tea to calm his nerves. "Thank you."
"For what?"
"For enlightening me."
"It is no problem, dear. I just hope that Draco gets better. I do not like it when others are hurting."
Hermione made her way carefully up the stairs and into the bedroom Eric and Draco were sharing. She knocked once, then twice. Finally Eric's voice told her to come inside. She searched for a lamp and found one on the desk. "Draco had gotten ill last night," she explained. "So I had made him so tea and crackers."
"Will he be okay?" Eric mumbled still half asleep, but he did not hear her next answer. His alarm clock blared through her answer, and he did not bother to repeat it. He suddenly recalled hearing some strange words last night coming from Draco's bunk. It had sounded like Latin, and he could have sworn he had seen some strange light. But then he had had dreams like that a few times already.
"What do you want?" Draco greeted looking a little paler than usual. Or was that just because the room was still mostly dark?
"I have made you some tea and crackers to help your upset stomach."
"I don't recall asking for you help."
"That's just it, you never will. Drink it." Hermione shoved the warm cup still sitting on the saucer to him.
"Why do you care if I am ill or not?" he demanded as he delicately sipped the soothing liquid. It was still very warm, but he did not mind.
"I don't," she snapped.
"I'm off to the shower. You will be ready for school on time, right, Hermione?" Eric asked.
"Yes."
"Good. Sorry you don't feel well, Draco," he exited the room and closed the door behind him.
"Who said I was sick?" he barked and felt like throwing the mug at Eric just for mocking him. "You didn't heed my warning, Granger. You are messing in business in which you have no part."
"It concerns me, Draco, because-" Why did it concern her? She didn't care!
"I don't want your concern," he said but his gratitude spoke otherwise. The tea slid down his throat and felt relieving. He appreciated the warm drink and dry crackers, but he hated the fact that a Mudblood had to be the one to care for him.
"You don't have it, nor do you have my worry. I just--this situation is of a concern to me because I am the only other one here."
"This has nothing to do with whatever you think it does."
"And what do you think I think it is?" she countered.
"Obviously something dealing with the wizarding world," he finished his tea and slid off of the top bunk.
"Where do you think you're going?"
"School," Draco flatly answered. "You're not the only one who can go."
"But you're ill."
"Was ill, Granger. I was ill yesterday. I had told you what it was." He sifted through his dresser for some clothes and finally pulled out a pair of black slacks and a black t-shirt that had 'Mudbloods must die' written on the front in a fancy red script then there was a picture of Salazar Slytherin on the back.
"Nice shirt."
"Is that Muggle ever going to get out of the shower?" he shifted uncomfortably from foot to foot. "Going to be in here while I dress, are you?"
"I am worried-" I thought that he was going to take a shower . . .
"Why do you think I care that you give a shit about me?" His tone was darker than usual and his stormy grey eyes were alive with anger. "You poor little girl, I almost pity you. You, nothing more than a lowly Mudblood, trying to show concern and worry for someone like me; it amuses me. If I was more in the mood, I'd be disgusted." He gripped the dresser for support as he stood. For some odd reason, his body felt extremely sore and weak as though someone had sucked the life right out of him. "If you will excuse me, Granger, I need to get dressed." His breath caught in his throat. "Now!"
No one could have made a faster dash to the door. Hermione practically slammed it and ran all the way back to her room. His tone had caught her off her guard. Never before had she heard him speak quite so pained and dark. It frightened her. She looked over to her dresser where she kept her own wand and decided to bring it to school just in case. She knew as well (if not better) that underage magic (especially in the Muggle world) was not permitted, but she had a bad feeling about the day. There was anxiety coursing through her veins as she got dressed and her nerves were tense with arousal. She grabbed her school bag and decided she'd rather distract herself by helping Mrs. Roberts cook breakfast.
"I was wondering what had taken you so long," she turned around from the stove with a pan of fresh bacon in her hand. "Is he going to be okay?"
"He insists upon going to school today," Hermione took out a platter for the bacon and set the table.
"At least he has priorities. He must be a strong kid."
He's a coward, Hermione thought.
"Has he gotten ill before?"
"I don't know." She tried to avoid the questioning look Mrs. Roberts was giving her. "He is odd like that."
"You British are a little odd," Sandy smiled at her. "I sure hope that he'll be all right. If not, I suppose I will have to contact the school or his parents. I would hate to see him go so soon. He has only been here for a few days, too."
"It is rude to talk about people behind their backs," Draco announced as he entered the kitchen looking even more pallid than usual. It added to his creepiness, as well as his crude t-shirt.
"Feeling better?" Mrs. Roberts had already prepared a bowl of fruit and placed it down in front of him after forcing him to sit down at the table. "I want you to eat all of that now. Citrus is best for you when you are feeling ill." She ruffled up his soft hair.
He kept quiet during breakfast. He could not get the dream off of his mind; it consumed him the way nighttime consumed the earth. It was dark and cold, yet eating at him like an acid. Draco also found that he could barely remove his eyes from his left arm. There was a tingling sensation on his arm like an itch on the inside. The fruit felt fresh in his mouth and crisp with citrus juices as he ate his breakfast.
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"Lucius Malfoy," Dumbledore greeted, "What a nice surprise. How may I help you?"
"I am here on behalf of my wife. She is worried about our son Draco. He has not written back to any of the messages Narcissa has sent him here."
"Well I sure hope not," he said peering up at him through his half moon spectacles. "Draco is not here."
"What?" he exclaimed. His grip tightened on the knob of his cane. "Where is he?"
"Studying abroad. An owl was sent to your manor with the information along with his new supplies list. Someone had signed it and mailed it back. I have it with me if you'd like to see it."
"Yes!" Lucius agreed impatiently and waited as the old headmaster shifted through his drawers for the piece of parchment.
"Ah, here we are." He pulled out the permission slip and handed it to him. "I believe that Mrs. Malfoy had been the one to sign it."
"She knows nothing of this!"
"That is her signature, is it not?"
"Yes, but she-" he fumbled. "I don't think she knew what it was for. She probably thought it was something for Hogsmeade or someplace similar."
"It is always important to read documents before signing them, Lucius."
"I am not the one who signed this!" he slammed the parchment onto the desk. "Where is he? I want him back at Hogwarts!"
"I am afraid that cannot be done anytime soon. The agreement was that he'd spend two months studying abroad."
"Studying abroad? What could he possibly be studying abroad? And where?!"
"Muggles, Lucius, in America."
"Muggles?" he repeated with fury in his voice. "For what purpose?"
"It allows my students to appreciate magic more for it is not permitted."
"Surely he has some protection!'
"He is allowed his wand and Muggle Studies Year 7 book."
"I was not aware that he was taking Muggle Studies."
"He didn't, but it helps him understand them." There was an uneasy silence between them.
"I will find him, Albus, and I am going to bring him back here."
"I don't recommend it. He is being protected by the Ministry on this one. No one can touch him."
"Am I permitted to speak with him?" he gritted his teeth.
"Of course, Lucius, would you like the address?"
"Yes," he said much more calmly.
"Remember this is not to be used for owling messages to him. You can only send him post the Muggle way by means of sending it to the Ministry where they can forward it to him. That is, unless," Dumbledore paused.
"Unless?"
"Unless you choose to visit him by means of taking an airplane. In that case you'd have to get your hands on some Muggle currency, both British and American. But you cannot take him home or back here."
Mr. Malfoy eyed the headmaster curiously as though he knew Dumbledore had done all of this on purpose. "I hope that my son is not alone over there."
"Of course not. He is staying with a lovely Muggle family and one other Hogwarts student."
"Who?"
"Hermione Granger," he smiled.
"The Muggle born? Surely that isn't fair to send a pure blood and a Muggle born to study Muggles."
"She has a strong head on her shoulders, and I'm sure that she'll keep him in line."
"My son does not need some Muggle born to keep an eye on him!" Lucius exploded with anger flashing in his eyes.
"Lucius Malfoy, Ms. Granger is the top student at Hogwarts. The fact that she is Muggle born makes no difference."
"Of course it doesn't," he lowered his tone and shifted uncomfortably under the scrutiny of the headmaster. "And when will my son be home?"
"Two months."
"Thank you, Albus. We'll keep in touch." With that Lucius Malfoy left the office and mulled over the conversation he and the headmaster had just shared. Did he know? Is that why Draco was randomly chosen to study Muggles abroad? Everyone knew how much the Malfoys despised the Muggles even though the Malfoys themselves wouldn't openly admit it so that it could be held against them. No, that's ridiculous. I don't even know that much about it, so how could that damned fool Albus know anything? Still it did not make much sense. Why Draco Malfoy of all the other students?
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"How well do you think you did on that U.S. History test?" Hermione inquired.
"What does it matter? It is not as though it is for a grade." He picked at his lunch and looked up at her. His eyes told her that he was in pain, but his expression screamed not to ask. But she could not help herself.
"What is wrong, Draco? Honestly!" Her sudden exclamation caught the attention of all those at the lunch table.
"Is the pretty British boy sick?" Mark Dantino joked. "That's just too bad, you know, because we really did need another tennis player, someone who looks good in a sweater." Hermione shot him a glare that reminded Mark all too much of a look one of his female friends gave him whenever he said something wrong.
"Granger, believe me when I say that you and your super friends do not want to get involved. It is something that even Harry Potter wouldn't be able to avoid nor get him out of."
"What is it?" she pressed.
"A dream, Granger, one of those dreams that you know have an air of truth to them."
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I think this is the longest chapter yet! It is about 3,800 words (not including this author's note). I hope that you are enjoying Disposable Heroes so far! Please drop a review, and flames are permitted for I would like to know what I need to correct (besides silly grammatical errors). Thank you so much for reading my story! I hope to have the next chapter up soon.
~ann no aku