Author's Note: All disclaimers apply. I do not own the characters contained in this story. They belong to J.K. Rowling, her publishers, and Warner Bros. Inc. Also thanks for all of the reviews. They are very inspirational and appreciated! Edited to add credit to Kathleen E. Woodiwiss and her plot from Shanna. This entire disclaimer applies to her work as well.

Chapter 8

Dreams to Plague the Waking Hours

Securely locking herself inside her flat Hermione waited apprehensively until she heard the cellar door close. Then, quietly, she crept down and securely locked the door behind him. Rushing back upstairs before she could hear him object she locked her own apartment door, checking it repeatedly before settling in for the night.

The summer air was still muggy despite the fact the sun had long ago dipped below the horizon. Conjuring a cooling current to ripple through her bedroom when she was ready for bed, Hermione slipped into a thin pair of pajamas that were cut short at her hips and sleeveless. Though she was a jumble of thoughts and dread finally she drifted to sleep, desperately trying to force any memories of her disturbing encounter with Malfoy earlier that day from her mind.

During the night her spell must have failed for she tossed and turned as the heat of the dark hours intensified, making her increasingly uncomfortable. Dazed and sweltering beneath the sheer sheet that covered her she threw it aside and fell into a fitful sleep once again. Various images floated through her dreams, the elves she desperately wished to save, and Ron's warnings about the numerous threats she had received. Then, alarmingly, Malfoy's piercing silvery blue eyes appeared as they savagely roamed over her face before he lowered his head for a tormenting kiss. The contact brought her to awareness or so she first thought.

Opening her eyes she realized that her dream continued as Malfoy's lips were on her own, his teeth nipping at her bottom lip until she opened her mouth allowing him to sweep his tongue inside. The buttons on the front of her pajama top were plucked open and large hands covered her breasts. Unable to restrain herself in her dream state Hermione arched upward, begging for pleasure she didn't understand but wanted without question.

Recklessly, Hermione melted back into her pillows letting his hands roam where they willed, moaning as her skin hummed to life. Her hips rose and fell in an instinctive response and, succumbing to the affects of her dream she knew she wouldn't deny him if he continued. Drawing in a ragged breath she sighed, content that she didn't have to contemplate consequences or prudently disengage herself from the man exquisitely seducing her. Even if it was Malfoy it was only a dream, and there was no harm in indulging in one's fantasies while dreaming. Fully lost to her reverie she was not aware when in her next breath she whispered a name softly, one she rarely spoke, Draco.

The man above her froze and retreated. She felt him slipping away from her while she awkwardly reached out to urge him to stay. The room grew cool again and despite the ache of unfulfilled desire her sleep deepened and the dream disappeared.

Bolting upright in bed Hermione clutched a hand to her chest grasping at the top of her pajamas, finding the buttons all in place. Shaking her head to rid herself of the vestiges of her dream she glanced around frantically, expecting to see Malfoy materialize from the depths of her delusion. Gratefully, she discovered she was alone, and nothing had happened. It had been in her mind.

Trying to calm her breathing she could not decide if the real encounter earlier or the one born of her imagination had shaken her more. Before she could blame Malfoy's over zealous nature and intent to intimidate her into responding to him, but what about her own thoughts. She found to her dismay that she could not explain away her own inclination to dream about him in such an intimate way. Shaking from the intensity of the hallucination and her own apprehensions it was sometime before she drifted into a thankfully dreamless sleep.

The next morning the shop opened on schedule but Hermione's fatigue kept her from enjoying it to the fullest. There were numerous customers and well wishers, Arthur and Molly Weasley among them. She thought of them as parents as much as she did her own and was pleased that they took the time to stop in for the grand opening.

Shocking her to her very core Malfoy cordially helped customers when it was needed and refrained from any undue remarks when Fred and George happened to stop in later that afternoon. She was thankful for the large crowd however as it kept her mind focused on the shop and anything other than her dream the previous night. If she had been forced to be alone with Malfoy, locked inside the shop all day, she did not like to think what could have happened.

She was certain he was only trying to seduce her so he could make a fool of her and she wasn't going to have it. Just because he knew the ways a woman's body responded to touch and he thought he could intimidate her didn't mean she had any intentions of giving in. It still made her slightly ill at the turn of events that lead to the night she had been stripped of her virginity, and in all her years she had never thought to have someone she hated so be the first man she'd given herself to.

At the close of the day she could only consider it a successful venture. Though she knew that customer volume would dwindle as the days went by, she was comfortable in the knowledge that she was going to make a tidy profit nonetheless. She could live easily on the sales in her shop and be content she was sure.

When Hermione locked the doors for the night she had momentarily forgotten her disturbing dream and was smiling to herself. Covering the windows she secured everything and began to quietly clean up so everything would be ready to open the next morning. It would have been easier to simply utter the scourgify spell, but she liked the aspect of doing things for herself. Actually, Malfoy should have been sweeping the floors while she restacked books, and resorted through clothing and wands.

Looking around she wondered where he was at and why he was being so silent. He was lounging on a stool behind the counter watching her intently. Immediately she dropped her gaze and went back to straightening her shop.

"You look tired," he said and she heard him climb down from the stool to walk toward her.

"Today was kind of frenzied to say the least, but it went all right I think," she answered noncommittally, hoping he wasn't in the mood to taunt or mock her. For the first time in years she didn't have the energy to argue with him on any subject and wished he would just become bored and go to the cellar for the night.

"Didn't you sleep well last night?" he continued on the same subject, halting a few steps from her while she pushed the broom back and forth.

Hermione froze briefly then went back to her chore. "Yes, of course. Why would you ask that?" Out of the corner of her eye she glanced at him to see if by some chance he knew. Then again, that was foolish. He couldn't possibly know about her dream, and that was all it was.

"No reason," he murmured. "Did you really enjoy yourself today?"

She stopped what she was doing to peer at him in confusion. "What kind of question is that? Of course I enjoyed myself. I have something of my own, not something that someone else gave me. I earned this and the right to be proud of myself. Haven't you ever wanted to do something or have something you earned on your own merit?"

"We're not talking about me, but I am just having difficulty seeing how all of this," Malfoy glanced around him arms outstretched, "can mean so much to you. It's just a building filled with used items that, though they are in good condition, they're still secondhand. To be so desperate to get your inheritance the sum must have been fairly sizable. Why did you waste it on that elvish nonsense and this uneconomical business?"

Now she was angry. He had insulted the one thing that mattered more to her than her heritage, her intelligence. "I don't consider this a wasted effort. I'm living my own life, helping others, and able to survive on what the shop provides in the way of a profit. Well, I hope I will be able to. Not all of us were born into golden nappies and silver rattles Malfoy. The majority of the world has to work to earn what is rightfully theirs. You can't simply take what you want because you expect society to offer you everything on a platter."

"See, that's where you're mistaken," he disagreed, pushing some spell books aside and sitting back on the table behind him. "You're not living your own life, you're living the life expected of you. You're expected to help others, just like you helped Potter, Weasley, Longbottom, and so on all through school. You're expected to live a quiet, little, boring life amongst books and this other drivel. Now I will give the younger Weasel credit for worrying over your dabbling into this elvish idiocy, as I'm familiar with the families whose house elves you're setting free. They're ruthless and they don't make empty threats. I suggest you focus your energy on something else and forget this society of yours."

"You'd like that wouldn't you," Hermione fumed, setting the broom against a wall. "You'd like for me to walk away and let your friends and their evil families keep torturing and abusing the less fortunate."

"I'm not going to lie and say I give a damn about what goes on as far as other's affairs are concerned, but I've made up my mind that you won't continue your work with the elves. Change is coming soon enough, you'll just have to wait for it like everyone else."

She snorted in a very unladylike fashion. "Even shackled, deprived of magic, and thoroughly humbled by your position you're trying to act the conceited lord of the manor. It will be a cold day in hell before you can ever order me about and expect me to follow your lead."

"Actually I am the heir to Malfoy Manor and once we've put this servant and prisoner rubbish behind us I'll have a decent inheritance myself. As for the day hell freezes, it may come sooner than you think," he warned, assessing her attentively.

"Are you trying to start an argument for no reason?" she sighed wearily. "Does it really entertain you that much to ridicule everything I've worked for?"

"I wasn't aware we were arguing," he replied, much too innocently. "Just think about it. Is it worth receiving threats on you life day after day just to sneak around and maybe free an elf here and there? Is it worth driving yourself mad just to find the perfect spot for a stack of books or rack of robes? Is this what you really dreamed of when you were a child? Honestly, I pictured you at the Ministry or as a Professor, still very boring with your books and all, but with much more purpose."

Now, Hermione hated him more than she had previously. She had always thought to be a professor someday if not at Hogwarts then another Wizarding School. How dare he throw her impossible dreams in her face so callously? "What direction my life takes is of no concern of yours," she said in annoyance.

"Of course it is," he stated simply. "I have no intention of living above a dusty old shop and as you've the honor of being my wife. Where I go you go. It's all very straightforward really."

"Neville will have those divorce papers soon and this is all going to be over. I still don't understand why you're hesitating about ending this marriage. Neither of us really wanted it, we made a bargain, both of us effectively took away from it what we wanted. Lets try and be adult about this and walk away." This was growing beyond ridiculous, his attempts to stall any resolution to their dilemma.

"He's wasting his time," Malfoy drawled sounding aggravated. "I meant what I said. I won't sign any papers."

"Gods I don't understand you. Why won't you end this? We hate one another. You're practically dying I'm sure to hex or curse me off the face of the earth as much as I'd like to see the last of you," she cried impatiently, and becoming more and more confused by his refusal to cooperate in dissolving their marriage.

"My reasons are my own and you're getting irrational again. At the moment I don't think I want to discuss them." He stood up, but to her surprise didn't come toward her. "Hate is such a strong word. You really should be careful how you toss it about. I might actually believe you someday."

She heard him leave and start down the stairs to the cellar. Before he could think to pursue another disagreement she followed after him, locking him away for the night. Beyond the door she heard him laughing at her measures to keep him sequestered, but ignored him. Though tired, she finished tidying the shop and went upstairs to bed, not bothering to find something to eat for dinner.

She felt like she had been sleeping for ages when her dreams became vivid, again. The room was so sweltering she couldn't breath, and tossing the sheet from her as she had done the night before, she still found no relief. As though in a trance she opened her eyes knowing she was not seeing anything real but was yet enchanted by her dream.

Malfoy was standing at the foot of her bed hands braced on the edge of the mattress. At least he was fully clothed. She did not even want to imagine herself dreaming of him in any other way. Despite the heat in the room she grasped for the sheet she had discarded to cover herself with. With a wave of his hand he sent the sheet flying to the floor, out of her reach, and rounded the bed, staring down at her with mysterious purpose.

Even in her dream she knew he was dangerous now. Something had provoked him, and she did not know what. With a small cry she tried to roll away but she felt his weight on the bed before he pulled her back and covered her body with his trapping her. A rush of emotions flooded through her mind as though they were not her own. Want, need, desire, anger, confusion there were too many to simply decipher one and the reason for it.

"So, you think you hate me do you?" he whispered drawing her hands above her head and holding her wrists tightly. "That's unfortunate for you then, and you'd better try and change your opinion."

Whatever resistance she thought to offer was lost when firm lips that were becoming far to tempting and familiar took possession of her own. Without hesitation, or coercion, she opened her mouth meeting his searching tongue, no longer denying she secretly enjoyed his attentions. Of course, as long as they were safely in her dreams and far from reality she amended.

She thought he realized he didn't need to restrain her when he released her wrists, but he did so only to continue about his goal. Unlike the night before he didn't gently pluck her buttons free. Rather, he wrapped a fist in her hair as if to hold her to him more steadily and took his other hand ripping the front of the pajama top open. The tiny pearl like buttons scattered over the bed and floor, making soft clinking sounds on the hardwood.

"Do you hate me when I do this?" he asked raggedly against her lips cupping one breast and flicking the nipple with his thumb until it hardened.

Hermione didn't answer. She couldn't even moan, the heat in the room and wandering throughout her body was so intense. Her only response was to raise herself closer to allow whatever he wished.

"Or this," he moved to softly nip the skin just below her ear then suck ever so lightly until she gasped, reaching out to clutch his shoulders.

"Say you don't hate me," he urged, smiling wickedly as he kept stroking her quivering skin,

She mewled softly, closing her eyes when the lids seemed so heavy. "Say it," he demanded almost desperately.

"I don't hate you," she sighed brokenly, her body taking on a will of its own and no longer obeying her. She was surprised she had even managed to speak. His lips were about to settle on hers again when his name slipped from her in a soft beseeching whisper, "Draco."

As before he halted, every muscle in his body going absolutely still. Hermione opened her eyes to see what had stopped him, but he was already pulling away. Standing he swiftly disappeared into the mist of her dream and she was too weak to try to rise and go after him.

Morning light was streaming into her room when she was jarred awake by the impact of her dream. Jerking herself upright she ran her hands through her hair, glancing around finding nothing out of place and her top buttoned perfectly up to her neck, as she knew it should be. Sighing with relief she shakily climbed from bed and dressed quickly.

Making breakfast she realized that it was later than she had first thought and hurriedly threw together something that she and Malfoy could eat without taking much time. There was barely half an hour before the shop was about to open, and there were things that had yet to be done.

She dreaded the moment when she would unlock the cellar and see his face in the light of day. Her two dreams had been much too vivid for her liking and she was thankful that it was another two days until the weekend when her shop would be closed, leaving her alone with him. Carefully undoing the latch she opened the door not bothering to call to him that she had done so.

He appeared moments later looking dispassionately at what breakfast she had provided. "This is all you can find to eat?"

"You're welcome to starve like you did in prison if you want," she snapped between bites of toast while she lifted the curtains from the front windows and sunlight streamed through. Good, he was going to be surly this she could handle and understand. It would help her forget how devastating he could be in her dreams.

"This I won't miss," he muttered under his breath but grudgingly ate what was before him.

"You could make yourself something else. I've left enough food downstairs for you in that small ice chest. You've got seven more years of it so you might as well quit complaining now." He would rather die than lower himself to use a Muggle device, but if he was hungry enough he could open the chest, she thought impatiently.

"So you think," he said with an unmistakable tone of superiority.

Rolling her eyes she wasn't about to engage in his delusion that he was going to be free any day. Their marriage was another matter altogether, and for one day she didn't want to have to think on it. Finishing her food she set her plate aside behind the counter and went about resorting some books on the far wall.

Somehow history books had gotten all jumbled in with maps and atlases of the world. Sighing with frustration she wheeled the long ladder from the corner of the room and positioned it in the history section against the ceiling high bookcase. Stacking the five books that were misplaced in her arms she climbed up slowly.

Malfoy happened to glance up and see her intentions, actually shaking his head incredulously. She was carrying a stack of books that probably weighed more than half of what she did and awkwardly making her way up a ladder that shook precariously with every step she took. Annoyed that he felt the need to care at all he walked over to lean against the bookcase, certain she would either drop the books or fall from the ladder.

"Did you need something?" she asked, paying close attention to where her feet fell next not wanting to miss one rung of the ladder.

"While you were up there I thought I'd check to make sure you're dressing appropriately," he said mischievously, pulling on the hem of her robes to lift them and peer upward.

"Malfoy if you rate certain parts of your anatomy worthy at all you'll let go of my robe this instant," she warned, unable to twist in anyway to free herself.

"You'd be hurting yourself as well if you hex my more valuable parts," he teased back, but dropped the hem, more interested in seeing she didn't break her neck if she slipped from the unsteady ladder.

"Gods, you're vulgar," she hissed nearly to the top shelf. "I swear you'd try and find some way to twist anyone's words to your advantage."

"Would you just pay attention to what you're doing," he ground out harshly, moving to hold the ladder steady when it swayed again.

"If only Percy knew how disrespectful you really were. He'd take you back and I wouldn't have to …" she stepped up on the last rung as it turned once under her foot and then snapped in half. Dropping the books and hearing them crash to the floor she couldn't maintain her balance when the rung just below the broken one also gave way. "Draco," she cried out uneasily. There was no time to adjust herself for a fall and she plunged downward.

Before she hit the floor arms caught her around the waist, and she felt Malfoy breaking her fall. Landing gracelessly in a heap below the ladder she heard him groan and her own leg crumpled beneath her at a painful angle. For a moment neither said a word, with Hermione glancing up at the broken ladder.

"I told you to pay attention," Malfoy growled behind her, rolling her from him slightly to gain a more comfortable position.

"I was, the rung up top broke," she defended, disengaging herself and trying to come to her feet.

"That's no surprise as that ladder must be nearly a century old," he said, standing and glaring at her. He could not be sure if he was angry that she had so unceremoniously fallen on him or because she had been careless with her own safety.

"Oh, you'd find anything you could to insult whatever I own wouldn't you," she accused, testing to see if her ankle could bear her weight. To her disappointment she stumbled, a slight twinge coursing through the ankle and up her leg.

Mortifying her even further Malfoy caught her again, preventing her from taking another spill onto the wood floor. "You won't use that ladder again. You'll order yourself a new one today."

"Let me go. I can walk and heal myself thank you." She tried to twist away from him but he wasn't in the mood to be reasonable. "I don't like for you to touch me. Let go!"

"Liar," he said smiling against her ear taking the opportunity to enjoy the scent of gardenias in her hair. "You like it too much."

"Conceited prat," she muttered wondering if she was imagining it or was he smelling her hair? That did not seem right for Malfoy to be acting so docile or like he was actually enjoying being near her. "I need to unlock the door," she mumbled, and his hand fell away from her.

Limping vaguely she opened the shop for the day and quietly went in back to whisper a few healing incantations for her ankle. When she was out of sight Malfoy inspected the ladder climbing only high enough to examine the rungs that had broken away. Expecting to see worn or rotten wood he was surprised when there was a perfectly cut slit in the rung, just below the last one that had split in two.

Climbing down he picked the pieces of wood up from the floor and looked at them carefully. As he suspected there was a faultless edge where the two pieces should meet in the center. If it had merely broken from use and age the pieces would have been jagged instead of appearing evenly cut down the middle.

Someone had tampered with the ladder and as he would have known if anyone had entered the shop at night, it happened yesterday, most likely when she had opened. With people coming and going all day there would have been no way to keep track of everyone and everything. Grabbing the other remnants of the ladder from the floor he pushed the deathtrap to the side of the shop, out of sight somewhat, and hid the evidence behind the counter beneath a large stack of journals. He would collect them before going downstairs for the evening and keep them for later. Malfoy was beginning to think someone wanted very much for Hermione to have fallen from the top, either to injure herself or meet her death.

The bells above the door jangled loudly and Malfoy's attention fell on a tall gangly man entering. He was in thick dark blue robes and perused the shop calculatingly. Narrowing his eyes at the man Malfoy tried to assess him, wondering if he truly was a patron or someone more sinister. "Is there something you are looking for in particular?"

His head snapping up at the sudden question the stranger looked flustered and shook his head offering no further answer. He kept his face from view and stayed to the front of the shop trying to be inconspicuous. This only succeeded in making Malfoy even more suspicious. "You're certain there is nothing you need help finding?"

The man stopped in mid step and did not respond for a long time. Malfoy rounded the counter and decided to approach him, instinctively knowing something was not right as far as the man was concerned. "Perhaps we don't have anything here that interests you then," he stated, coming to stand before the customer.

"I am looking for a specific book, but I don't think it's here. Good day," the shopper said stiffly, and tried to pass, but Malfoy blocked his path.

"Miss Granger might be able to find it for you if you want. Why don't you give her the title and…" Malfoy pressed trying to see how the man would react to hearing Hermione's name, and if his claim was truthful that he indeed was looking for something rather than sneaking about.

"Stand aside Mr. Malfoy," the customer stated with authority and a tone that Malfoy recalled well.

Shocked he studied the man closely, refusing to let him leave. "Professor Snape?" It couldn't be though. The man was either dead or hiding somewhere, lost forever.

"Stand aside!" he muttered tersely, pushing a perplexed Malfoy from his path.

The door slammed shut behind the mysterious customer and Malfoy stared after him, knowing immediately that his old professor had undeniably been standing in the shop moments ago. Why had he come, and what was he really looking for? His mind drifted to the box of poison chocolates and the ladder. Surely he was not behind those incidents. No, Snape wouldn't waste his time with Hermione, but he also could not have known he was here either.

"Did they buy anything?" Hermione asked, pushing past the curtain and coming out to the front of the shop. She was walking much better now, with no hint of injury whatsoever.

Malfoy kept looking out the front windows hoping to see which direction the professor had gone, but found he had already dwindled into the crowd. "No, we didn't have the book he was looking for," he said absently.