The single galleon hovered in the air. Snakelike tendrils of conscious thought emanated from Draco and coiled around it like fingers. Etean watched with careful interest as Draco's mind struggled to keep its hold on the coin. His hold was sloppy, more energy was being wasted into the air than was being used to maintain the contact, but Draco was learning. It was within his grasp; he would get there. It would only require practice, and hard work.
'Speaking of which…'
Without any outside change in appearance, Etean narrowed his mind and tugged at the Ether. The effect was immediate. The tendrils of Draco's mind evaporated and shattered. With nothing to support it, the coin fell to the floor with a clatter.
Draco sighed and rubbed his temples. "What was that? Ten seconds?"
"Eleven," Etean informed him. "A new record. At this rate, you'll have it dancing by morning."
Draco didn't look impressed. "You say that every night."
"Do I?" Etean raised an eyebrow at him.
"Yes," Draco grumbled, "Yet somehow it never seems to happen, does it?"
"Patience," Etean soothed him, "If this was easy, don't you think everyone would be doing it?"
"Please," Draco rolled his eyes and rubbed at his temple again, "no more lectures, at least not tonight."
Etean reached out and sensed Draco's mind. The pain he saw there was severe, but well below the level that Draco could handle. "Fine," he extended himself and hoisted the coin into the air, "no lectures." Etean waited. Draco knew what he was expected to do. He took a moment to compose himself before settling his mind and reaching out again. Again, Etean watched carefully.
Hermione's eyes stung. She lay in her bed, staring at the ceiling of her four poster, praying for the night to end. She turned her head and reached out to pull back the curtain so she could see her clock. The dial glinted in the moonlight, ten past one. Hermione dropped the curtain and let her head roll back onto her pillow. It was still early, much earlier than she normally fell asleep at, but damn she was tired. Her whole body ached from exhaustion. She could think of no good reason for her to be in bed. There was no way she was going to sleep, but she honestly didn't think that she had the strength to get up. Her eyes burned with the effort of staying awake.
Her eyes closed. The stinging sensation faded. She felt a chill wash over her, the air was cold suddenly against her skin. 'No,' her eyes slammed open again. She couldn't fall asleep, she just couldn't. And yet, each time she blinked, each time she closed her eyes, it got harder to open them again. The darkness and the chill night air continued to close in on her. She struggled, shook herself, even ground her knuckles into her eyes, but in the end it was to no avail. Her will slackened; there was simply no way for her to remain awake any longer.
'This can't go on,' she told herself in a voice that sounded, even inside her head, to be half asleep, 'I can't keep this up forever. Dreams…they are only dreams. Nothing to worry about.'
Finally, her eyes slid closed.
She found herself almost at once on familiar ground. A gloomy room, lit from above through some unknown means. The room was bare, she was surrounded by bare stone walls and standing on a bare stone floor. She shivered with the cold, she wasn't well dressed, she was asleep after all. Her nightgown only reached down to her knees, leaving her shins and calves bare. Her feet were also bare, which added to her discomfort. She sighed, there was little else to do. She took a breath, instantly feeling a familiar stinging sensation in her chest. The air here was foul, it burned as she inhaled and froze as she exhaled. Breathing it for any period of time was agony. Was it any wonder that she always passed out? 'Stop it, Granger, this is a dream, you don't have to pass out if you don't want to.' There was a sound behind her. Hermione turned on her heel and found herself face to face with the wolf yet again. Logic! There had to be some point to these dreams. They made sense, they had to. She set her jaw and stared at the wolf. Lupie, it was the only name that the beast had ever had in her dreams, so that's what it was gong to be called.
The beast stared at her. It always did, always the same way. Every movement, every blink was always precisely the same. It looked at her and a longing stirred in her heart. It was going to lead her and she had to follow. The beast stood with the merest hint of a growl and moved off, disappearing through the room's single doorway. Hermione toyed with the idea of not following. What was the point? Following didn't achieve anything; the end result would be the same. The foul air would eventually get the better of her. She would collapse, pass out, wake up on the mountain top and be at the mercy of those infernal eyes. Still, she had nothing better to do.
Hermione moved to the doorway. She knew from past experience that Lupie would be waiting for her just round the corner, and sure enough she was right. Hermione took one step toward it and paused. 'Logic, Granger, you know what's up there.' She looked up. The corridor stretched out ahead of her. She could make out the gradual slope of the floor rising up, more or less indefinitely. 'Logic!' It led somewhere, it had to lead somewhere. She just had never been able to get far enough to find out where before collapsing. Feeling the helpless panic rising in her heart, Hermione struggled to be sensible about it. Logic didn't leave her any room for panic. She remembered the books, the few sensible books she had read on the subject of abnormal dreams. 'Dreams come from the subconscious,' she thought, 'this is my mind, so what the hell does it mean? What is it…what am I trying to tell myself?' She bit her lip. The question was simple to ask, but the answer was another matter.
Hermione shook her head. She was starting to get light headed. 'Focus! Details!' Coughing slightly as the air rasped in her throat, she reached out to touch the wall. It was, just as it appeared, bare, cold stone. Touching it helped her focus, at least a little. Lupie stood once more and turned to head up the corridor. Hermione didn't follow. Logic was, for the moment, still in charge. Logic told her that there seemed to be no point in chasing Lupie. The wolf moved too fast toward wherever it was headed, and standing still was hard enough in this place. Logic also told her that she should save herself the trouble, she was going to pass out any minute now, so what did it matter where she landed?
A thought fought its way to the surface of her mind. This was a corridor, a passage without end. It sloped endlessly upward ahead of her…and behind her…she turned round. The passage was darker here. It sloped downward and very rapidly disappeared into a dense billowing fog. Hermione squinted, but her vision couldn't penetrate very far into the murky gloom. She swallowed hard; it looked none too inviting. In all the times she had gone through this dream, she had never even considered exploring the passage that way, she had always been too scared to. 'But,' she logically reminded herself, 'this is my mind, what the hell can happen to me in here really?'
Up or down, it was a simple decision.
Lupie let out a menacing growl as she headed downward, but Hermione ignored it. The mist closed in around her. The gathering gloom made it hard to see. She coughed again, harder than before and staggered sideways in sudden dizziness. If she was going to find anything, she would have to find it soon. Hermione made her way forward, feeling the wall for guidance. By her reckoning she had travelled at least twenty yards before she noticed the light. The solid murk of the fog started to give way as flashes of white light detonated ahead of her. It was impossible to gauge distance in the fog, but the flashes gave her the impression that she was getting close to the end of the corridor, and whatever was there.
She became aware of the wind. A gentle but constant breeze was blowing from behind her, pushing the wisps of fog ahead of it toward the source of the light. Inch by inch, step by step she moved forward. The wind blew harder, the fog was thinned further. Now she could see more of her surroundings. In the light of the flashes, she could make out parts of what lay ahead of her. The floor was different here. Small pebbles and bits of debris littered the stone surface. She could hear more falling even now, clattering and pinging off the walls. Some collided with her bare shins, opening deep gashes in her skin. Ignoring the pain, Hermione pushed herself forward on shaking knees. The air was really starting to burn her chest now, the pain made it feel like she was breathing fire, not air. Her vision started to grey and blur. She shut her eyes as a massive fit of coughing bent her double. She didn't have long left before the lack of clean air would make her pass out. 'No,' she thought desperately, feeling as though she was on the edge of something important.
Gathering the last remnants of her strength, she stood up, took the deepest, most painful breath she had taken yet, and stepped forward. As her vision cleared, the sight that greeted her quite literally took her breath away. Hermione stared, not ten feet away from where she was standing, the world had been torn open!
She found herself standing on the outer edge of a vast, turbulent vortex that stretched away into oblivion. Hermione stood agape as she looked at it. It was as though some great monster had literally taken a bite out of the world, tearing a vicious gash into the void beyond reality. The air from the corridor was rushing past her as a gale now. Strands of fog were whipping past her on all sides and disappearing into the void. Hermione felt the thin fabric of her nightgown flap and tug at her legs. She had to fight to hold her balance. The wind was lifting some of the small pebbles from the floor around her and hurling them into the vortex. Hermione watched them rocket into the maelstrom, where they were caught, smashed and shattered by the tidal forces. Tiny flashes and explosions ricocheted back and forth in the depths of the vortex, occasionally shooting out into the corridor to detonate against the wall. It was like watching a bottled storm. Hermione couldn't imagine the end of the world looking any scarier. It was little wonder that the wolf had been leading her in the opposite direction, away from this…whatever the hell it was.
The air boomed with a distant thunder. The vortex shuddered and surged with fresh intensity as the floor beneath Hermione's feet began to shake. The thunder repeated, sending her sprawling on her knees. She looked up, the vortex was churning madly, the flashes within it were growing in intensity with alarming rapidity. Hermione scrambled backward in alarm. A third mighty thunder crack split the air. The vortex contorted and then, with an almighty scream, split open. A massive ball of energy appeared inside it. For a moment it appeared to be frozen in place, but then it shot forward and hurtled toward her. Hermione threw her arms up and screamed.
The wind changed, suddenly becoming far colder. The stone beneath Hermione changed too, it now felt damp and slippery. She opened her eyes. The vortex was gone. The corridor was gone. It had been replaced by a sickeningly familiar vista of cloud.
Hermione couldn't remember ever feeling this way when she realised that she was here. This part of the dream had never felt like the good part before. Hermione leaned back, relishing the free air. If the dream held to the pattern, then she would have a few moments before 'they' arrived to haunt her. The fear that had numbed her mind receded. 'Logic! Dreams come from the mind,' she repeated, 'Then what the hell is my mind trying to do to me?'
They were here. Even without looking up, Hermione knew that they had arrived. Slowly she opened her eyes. The eyes were twinkling all around her – Thousands of points of golden light, spiralling and twisting in the air as they circled above her. Hermione forced her mind back on track. 'Logic, Hermione, what does this mean?'
The eyes continued to circle. One pair separated from the rest and floated closer, hovering mere inches from her face.
"We can see you!" The sound of the roaring voice slammed into her, sending her mind reeling. This was it, this was where she normally woke up. Hermione sat up straight. So why hadn't she? She looked around; the eyes continued to move, but their pattern had started to settle. They were circling her as one now, each holding position in the swarm. Watching the twinkling points of light made them seem all the brighter. The dark space between them seemed to grow darker and darker.
"You are here," the words came again, "We can see you!" Hermione could hear it now. The voice on the wind wasn't a voice at all, rather a chorus of voices from all around her. The eyes were talking to her!
Hermione turned her attention toward the separated pair of eyes. They hadn't spoken with the others, she would have heard them it if they had. She stared at them, and at the darkness of the shadow surrounding them. As she watched, the shadow grew darker. The eyes continued to sparkle out at her from inside it. The shadow took form, a shape solidified before her eyes. Hermione drew back, realising that she wasn't alone on the rocky platform. The shadowy form was a person. A hooded being, cloaked in shadow was materialising in front of her. The eyes had their owner!
"We are here," the chorus rang out again, so loud that it nearly deafened her. "You are here…We can see you!"
There was a jolt, and Hermione came to. The eyes were gone, the sound was gone, the shadow was gone. It was all gone. Hermione swallowed as her eyes focussed on the roof of her bed. She was awake. They weren't here with her. She turned to check the clock again, half past two. A chill ran down her spine. Two hours ago she wouldn't have thought that the dreams could have gotten any worse. Now?
'Not very pleasant, was it?' Hermione froze as the voice whispered in her ear. She struggled to ignore it. 'Oh please,' it said, 'listen, I'm not real, we are agreed on this, right? Logic, after all, is key! There is no logical way that I can be real, so I'm not going to bother arguing the point.' Hermione found herself relaxing slightly as the voice spoke on. 'But,' it said, 'seeing as how I am here, and how I really, honestly have nowhere else to go – you'll just have to take my word on that I'm afraid - and seeing as how there is nowhere for you to go to get away from your own head, can't we just agree that I don't exist, but that I am not going anywhere?'
There was a snigger. Hermione actually smiled. A logical argument to prove that something that was logically impossible was actually real seemed to amuse her. It amused the voice too. 'Right,' it said when the laughter had died down, 'now that we've got that sorted out, I think I should help you.'
'Help me,' Hermione gave in and responded, 'How?' She was slightly nervous. The voice, whatever it was, had offered to help her before, and she had for some reason allowed it to, to no good end.
'Ok, ok,' it soothed, 'I admit that I went a bit…overboard last time. I'm sorry, I just got carried away.'
'What did you do?' Hermione asked, and then corrected herself, 'What did you make me do?'
'Later,' was the answer, 'We'll get to that later. I don't think you're really in the right frame of mind for that at the moment.'
'What do you mean?'
'Nothing,' it answered dismissively, 'Now do you want me to help you or not?'
'You want to help me?'
'That's what I said isn't it?'
In the silent darkness of her bedroom, Hermione frowned nervously. 'What do you mean?'
There was a sigh inside her head. 'You are tired, yes?'
'Yes.'
'Really tired?'
'Yes.'
'Really, really tired?'
'Yes,' the last answer was starting to sound as irritable as she felt.
'In fact, would it be safe to say that you are exhausted?'
'Do you have a point?' she mentally snarled.
Laughter. 'Yes, I do as it happens. My point is that your being tired is one thing that I can help you with, quite easily in fact.'
'How?'
'Well…how can I say this? I am inside your head…even though I don't exist,' it added with an air of annoyance, 'Therefore, wouldn't it stand to reason that I know the inside of your head quite well?'
'I…suppose,' Hermione responded.
'And, given my knowledge of your head's inner workings, wouldn't you expect that I could arrange for you to sleep peacefully?'
'You can stop me dreaming?'
The voice laughed harder than before. 'Heavens no, why on earth would I try to do that?'
'But…'
'No, I meant…oh hell, this is what I meant.'
There was a shifting sensation in her head. Hermione's thoughts slid about uncertainly. 'Hold on…what…'
Draco yawned as he finished doing up the buttons on his shirt. You could say one thing about Etean's training schedule, it didn't leave much room for recreation. Draco scowled. He wasn't sure exactly when sleep had been transferred onto the list of recreational activities, but it was certainly there, a luxury to be savoured if and when it arrived. The problem was that there simply wasn't enough time in a day to accommodate school, training and sleep. Well, there was, that was where the hourglass came in. Using it allowed them to spend ten hours in the Training Room while only two hours passed outside. This left, as Etean was so happy to point out, at least six hours for sleep. However, as Draco would point out if he thought it would make the slightest difference, six hours wasn't really enough when your waking day tended to stretch to well over twenty-four.
Draco looked over at Etean's bed, and wasn't surprised to find it empty. Draco shook his head. He couldn't imagine how Etean did it. He was always up before Draco, and was always still awake when Draco invariably collapsed from exhaustion. Where did he get the energy to start pouring over long winded situation reports after spending the night twisting and bending Draco's mind into the gods knew what shape and back again?
Draco shook his head. Etean had been doing this damn near his whole life, clearly he was more than used to the strain. Draco stretched and yawned again. 'Good for him!' he thought sarcastically. Draco pulled on his robes and left his room. He needed food. If he didn't have something to give him some energy, he knew he wouldn't last the day. He was passing the door of the second sixth year bedroom when he heard a girl's voice from inside. He could guess who it was, and based on her tone, there was an argument going on. Instinctively, Draco froze to listen. Five years of life in Slytherin House hadn't been lost on him. Overhearing any private conversation was a potential benefit, and arguments almost always were. He slowed his breathing to make out the words.
"I don't understand," he recognised Annabelle's voice instantly, "If you don't want to do it, then don't do it. It's not like he can make you do it or anything."
"Haven't you been listening?" Theo Nott answered her. He sounded annoyed. "Of course he can. He's my father for Merlin's sake."
'His father?' Draco swallowed. 'Theo's father meant that their conversation could only be about one thing.'
"I know that, but he's on the run from the Aurors isn't he?"
"He's in Coventry actually," Theo said idly, "for the moment at least. But he won't stay there forever for crying out loud."
"Yes, but what I meant was that he has a lot to worry about besides you, so you have time."
"I wish that were so," Theo sounded pensive now, almost apprehensive, "he seemed pretty focussed when I spoke to him…And he is not happy with me!"
"But it's not like he can just stroll into the school and get you is it?" Annabelle sounded as though she was trying to soothe Theo.
It didn't work. "What the hell difference does that make?" he snarled at her. "I can't stay here forever, and even if I could it wouldn't matter. Sooner or later the walls of this infernal castle will crumble and, when that day comes, I'll either be of use to him or I won't be. It's that simple."
"You have time," Annabelle pleaded, "time to figure out what to do to fix things."
"You're assuming that's even possible, I'm not so sure."
"But," there was a definite shake in Annabelle's voice now. Clearly, Theo's implication wasn't lost on her, "he's your father. He won't just abandon you."
"Won't he?" Theo laughed. "Don't be an idiot. His son or not, if I'm not an asset to him, he has no reason to protect me. As it is he's losing patience. At this rate I'll be lucky if he doesn't kill me himself."
"Don't say that." Annabelle sounded scared.
"Why not?" There was a pause before Theo spoke again. When he did, his voice had turned to a sneer. "Aww, whatsa matter? Did I scare you? Is the lida baby frightened that I might die?"
Draco winced at the sound of Theo mocking Annabelle. Even if he was right, even if she was scared for him, she wouldn't take that well. Her temper was all but legendary in Slytherin.
"Of course I am, I don't want you to die," she said quietly. Draco frowned; that was not how Annabelle should have reacted. She had scalped people for far less. Only last week she had nearly beheaded a rather dumb first year that had had the bottle to call her 'Blondie' on a dare. What was up with her?
"Don't you?" Theo snapped at her. "Well I suppose I don't blame you. Without me, there won't be anyone left to protect you will there?" He laughed.
"Theo," Annabelle really sounded upset, "please don't…I didn't mean to upset you."
There was a silence. "What did you call me?" Theo said menacingly.
Even without extending himself, Draco thought he could feel a wave of fear from inside the door. He leaned against the doorjamb, and was glad he did because a second later he needed it to hold him up.
"Master," Annabelle said quickly, "forgive me, I didn't think before I spoke your name."
Draco was stunned. 'Did she…no, she didn't just call him…did she?'
His thoughts were shattered a moment later as a loud crack sounded from beyond the door, followed by a dull thud. Draco's mouth hung open. Theo had just hit Annabelle…hard.
"That was a reminder, never forget your place!" Theo hissed.
"I…I won't," said Annabelle shakily.
"No, you won't" Theo added with an air of cruel certainty, "otherwise I won't be so nice about it," he laughed, possibly the most soulless sound Draco had ever heard from him, "I mean, you have your uses…but…" he trailed off, "but I am getting away from the topic. We weren't talking about you."
"No," the tone of Annabelle's voice was flat, "we weren't." Draco shook his head, it definitely was Annabelle talking, but it sounded nothing like the Annabelle he knew. She had called Theo 'Master'? Why on earth had she done that? His trail of thought exploded at her next words. "We were talking about the deal you made with Etean."
'WHAT?' Draco's mind spun off on yet another tangent. Deal? Theo had made a deal with Etean? What the hell was going on? Was this even the same school that he had gone to sleep in?
"Deal?" Theo scoffed, "I'd hardly call it that. That smug git, who does he think he is? He actually expects me to risk my neck for him, and all I get in return is his friendship? That isn't any sort of deal from where I'm standing."
"But," said Annabelle sheepishly, "I thought that you had already told your father about…"
"I know what I have done, Annabelle, I don't need to be reminded. I…oh what's the use? You just don't get it do you?"
"I do get it, Master. You've explained it to me well enough. Your father wants…"
Theo mumbled something as Annabelle's voice trailed off. Draco almost leapt through the door in frustration. 'Wants what?' He strained to hear, but Annabelle never finished her sentence. The words just hung in the air, unfinished. After a moment, he heard movement, a creak in a floorboard, then another. Then it hit him, they were coming closer, Theo was headed to the door!
Draco's mind raced, searching for possible solutions. He did not want to be caught here, he needed time to process what he had just heard. He looked up and down the stairway, but there were no hiding places. Cursing himself for not wearing his cloak, he took the only available option and bolted downward toward his bedroom.
Taking the steps three at once, he flew down and hurled himself through the doorway just as the sound of the other door opening reached him. Winded, he struggled to control his ragged breaths long enough to hear whether or not he'd been noticed. There was nothing but silence from above. After a few tense moments, he heard footsteps on the stairs. They were heavy, so he guessed that it was Theo, and they were getting quieter. Theo was leaving. Draco exhaled deeply and bent double to catch his breath. There was a loud snore from Crabbe's bed. The sound made Draco jump. He had thought that the rest of his house mates were already up. Regaining his breath, Draco decided not to bother trying to wake Crabbe. He didn't have the time or the inclination to care whether that huge moron he was late for class. He left his room, only to return an instant later to retrieve his cloak, which he rolled up and stuffed into his bag.
Draco climbed the stairs again slowly and soon found himself once more outside Theo's room. The door was ajar. Through the crack, he could make out the side of Annabelle's head. She was sitting on Theo's trunk by his bed. He couldn't see her face however, and, after a brief internal argument, curiosity won out and he pushed the door open. Annabelle didn't notice. Draco watched her for a moment, puzzled. When she still didn't move, he walked over toward her, quietly calling her name. Annabelle didn't respond. Draco stopped beside her and called her again, still no response. He raised his hand and waved it before her eyes…nothing. Bewildered, Draco gently extended his mind to touch hers. He sensed her presence almost immediately, but not, he realised to his horror, her thoughts. Her mind was there, everything was as it should be, she wasn't asleep, she wasn't dreaming, it was as though all thought had simply been removed from her head. He moved his focus deeper into her mind, searching for answers. He was by no means comfortable about doing this, memories of Antoine's fragile mind floated to the fore of his brain, but he felt that he had no choice. He had started to probe as deeply as he dared when, as though struck across the face by an unseen hand, Annabelle woke up.
The sensation of her mind suddenly springing to life rocked Draco back on his heels. He stumbled backward, swearing at the pain in his temple as his mind retreated on instinct and broke the link. Annabelle shook herself and looked at him with a startled expression on her face.
"Draco? What are you doing here?"
Draco steadied himself, then straightened up, pushing all traces of his pain from his face. "I was just about to ask you the same question," he said in an annoyed tone.
"I…" Annabelle started. She looked around for a moment, and then examined her own apparel. Apparently surprised at her situation, she paused. It was just for a moment, she recovered smoothly, "What I'm doing here is none of your business," she snapped defensively, "What were you doing sneaking up on me?"
Her tone had taken on an air of defiance. Draco let a slight scowl twist his brow. "I didn't sneak up on you. I was walking past the door and I saw you. I tried to say hello, even called your name…twice, but you didn't hear me."
"So what? Why the hell should I pay any attention to you?"
Draco rolled his jaw. "I was just trying to be civil, in future I don't think I'll bother." Draco turned to leave. It was clear that he would get no answers from her, especially as he wasn't even supposed to know the questions, so he decided to leave it be.
"If it's all the same to you," she called after him sharply, "I'd rather you didn't bother. I don't particularly want to be seen associating with a blood traitor."
'The same old Annabelle, back from wherever she went,' Draco thought, then his mind caught up and replayed her last remark. 'What did she call me?'
Draco stopped and turned round. "Excuse me," he fought to keep his face slack, "I don't think I heard you correctly."
Annabelle sneered. "Oh I think you did," she said, blissfully unaware of how close to the abyss she was drifting, "You heard me very clearly."
"How dare you…"
At this, Annabelle laughed. "How dare I? How dare you, Draco? How dare you lower yourself to such a level? It's disgusting! I don't know how you can dare to show your face in this House after consorting with that…that vermin!"
Rage flooded into Draco's mind, obliterating all before it. "Vermin?" he took an involuntary step toward her before he caught himself. He struggled to hold his temper in check, "I wouldn't advise you to repeat that, Annabelle."
Annabelle sneered. "Or what? You'll sick her on me like you set her on Pansy?"
"I didn't set her on…" Draco started, but then stopped himself. He wasn't about to have this conversation. He took a breath. "I wouldn't have thought that I would have to spell this out, Annabelle," he said, measuring each syllable to dispel his rage before it consumed him, "but clearly I do as you seem to be under the mistaken impression that your opinion of me matters…it doesn't. I don't care what you, or anyone else in this House thinks of me. What I do, and who I chose to do it with is MY business, no one else's. And," his voice dropped to a gravely snarl, "If I were you?" he said in a tone that would freeze fire, "I would never…ever, so much as think about insulting me again."
Annabelle's face remained defiant, but Draco was in no mood to continue the argument. If he stayed any longer, he feared that he might just give in to his instincts and flatten her. He left the dormitory without another word and stormed off toward the Great Hall. His temper remained like a burning flame in his throat. After a while, his flailing mind caught hold and he realised what had just happened. He had almost lost it…again. He had been inches away from punching Annabelle. Damn that girl could be annoying when she wanted to be. 'No, stop it, that isn't what's important here!' He pictured Annabelle before him, standing defiant and defensive in the face of his anger when only moments before she had been knocked to the floor by Theo. For a moment, he understood what had driven Theo to violence but…no…that just wasn't right. He felt his temper rise again, Theo shouldn't have done that. Draco shook his head as he turned the corner and started up the stairs. 'Get over it!' he scolded himself. He was getting soft, since when did he care about morality? But, it was more than the moral issue. The Theo Nott that he thought he knew just wouldn't have dared strike Annabelle. 'That's it,' he told himself, 'focus on the problem, not the anger. Right or wrong, he hit her, why?' Draco ground his teeth and marched with fierce determination, hoping to stamp the anger out of his mind before he really did hit someone. He reached the Great Hall and sat down. His mind finally cleared and he focussed on the real problem at hand.
Theo!
Draco turned, there he was, sitting beside Etean, their heads bent in conversation that only they could hear. It occurred to Draco that this was not an uncommon sight. They were always like that lately, whispering and conspiring together. Draco had noticed, but simply taken it as Etean playing into the student role. He was certainly playing the role well, as well as any other Slytherin. He had only been here a couple of months and already half the school loathed him, the other half seemed to like him or at least afford him a grudging respect. No one, it appeared, could meet Robert Etean and not form an opinion of him. And yet, not one of them knew the first thing about him; it was bizarre, but it seemed to work. Draco yawned. The sound must have been louder than he imagined because it was enough to draw a sideways glance from Theo.
Theo!
Draco once more dragged his mind back on topic. Master? She had called him Master, clearly at his behest. Clearly there was a side to Theo that Draco had yet to witness. Was there more to it than a bad temper? Certainly, no sane person ever expected their girlfriend to call them Master, not unless they liked hospital food. Draco didn't know where to start to figure out how many ways that this situation was just plain wrong. Why the hell was Annabelle putting up with being treated like that? Love? The notion was ludicrous. Fear? But, she couldn't be afraid of Theo surely? Draco almost laughed at the idea. Theo was arrogant to the point of making it an art form, but dangerous?
His eyes moved to Etean. He was still intent on his conversation with Theo. Did he know more about Theo than he was letting on? 'Stupid question!' Of course he did. Etean and Theo had made a deal involving the Death Eaters? Was that the reason? What kind of deal was it? What the hell was Etean up to?
Draco rolled his eyes; that was a question and no mistake. Even if he asked him flat out he probably wouldn't get a straight answer, and certainly not with Theo sitting right next to him, listening to every word. He had taken a mouthful of cereal when he remembered that Theo didn't necessarily need to overhear. Shaking his head in an attempt to wake his sleeping brain, he turned some of his attention to Etean.
'We need to talk,' he sent.
Etean nodded, an answer to something Theo said. 'What about?'
'Theo.'
'What about him?'
'I want to know what's going on between you two.'
At this, Etean's eyes darted in Draco's direction for a moment. 'What do you mean? What have you heard?'
Draco smiled. 'So there is something?'
'Answer the question,' Etean demanded.
'I could,' Draco took another spoonful of cereal and shovelled it down, 'but it would probably save us both some time and effort if you just looked for yourself.'
Inviting someone to read his mind seemed an odd thing to have to do, but it wasn't as though Etean needed the invitation was it? It was just simpler this way. There was a momentary pause, Draco felt the images of the morning float at high speed through his mind.
Etean was a fast reader it seemed. 'Interesting.'
'Is that it? Interesting?'
'You don't agree?' the thought felt innocent enough.
'Agree? I don't…' Draco caught the thought and stopped it. He sighed, drawing a warning thought from Etean. 'You and him made a deal, yes?'
'More of an arrangement really, but you could say that,' Etean answered. His public conversation with Theo ended rather abruptly with the arrival of Blaise. He dropped into the seat opposite and instantly launched into a speech, which Draco didn't have to overhear to know was about quidditch.
Setting aside the rather irksome feeling that Blaise still seemed to be treating Etean as his seeker, Draco returned to the conversation. 'What does this arrangement involve?'
'That,' Etean answered after a moment, 'is a rather long story.'
Oh no, he wasn't dodging this one. 'Short version then, just the highlights. Does it involve me?'
'No,' was the reply, almost instantly.
'But it involves the Death Eaters?'
Etean visibly paused. 'Again, you could say that, yes.' He shook his head and started to berate Blaise about something or other.
Draco felt his temper flaring. 'If it involves the Death Eaters, then it has to involve me!' he shot the thought forcefully at Etean, suppressing a wince of pain in the process.
Etean seemed to consider this. 'That is a rather circular path of thinking, but logical nonetheless.'
Draco felt elated at the apparent victory. 'Right, so you won't mind telling me about the deal then?'
Etean glanced at him again. 'Alright, but later. It is a long story.'
Draco felt he had no choice but to accept this. Perhaps a private chat would be a better way to discuss this than a secure, but public conversation. He turned his attention back to his cereal. People were entering the Great Hall in a steady stream now. Draco occasionally spared them a glance, hoping to see Hermione walk in. This was shaping up to be a long day and he was looking forward to having her smile to distract him. Looking up now however, he saw Pansy, she and Millicent had just walked in. Pansy's eyes scanned the table. She saw him and froze. Draco forced himself not to wince at the look in her eyes, somewhere between despair and confusion. He had told her how he felt, finally, feeling that he somehow owed her the honesty. It hadn't been the first time he had dumped her, truth be told that had damn near been his hobby over the last two years, but it had been…different, this time. He had been prepared for her to curse him, threaten him, and insult him…the usual. He had been prepared for her to rant and rave, and then to wail and cry. He hadn't expected her to simply stand up and walk away.
That, however, was just what she had done, and had continued doing. She had just walked away from him like he didn't matter. That wasn't like her. That wasn't what she should have done. She should have freaked out, she should have wailed, and, most certainly, she should have spent the last three weeks trying to get him back. Draco was glad that she had finally seemed to have gotten it into her head that he wanted her to leave him be, but, he was also, he had to admit, a little surprised, and maybe even disappointed. After all, wasn't he worth the effort? Shouldn't she be trying to get him back? Shouldn't she at least be mad at him, and at Hermione? Ok, she still hadn't gotten over the whole duelling fiasco, but that shouldn't stop her whining about it. Shouldn't she be threatening Hermione behind her back and badmouthing her to anyone that would listen? Not that he wanted her to, he thought rapidly, the thought of her insulting Hermione lit the rather short fuse on his temper and made his blood boil a bit too quickly for his liking. Her behaviour annoyed him. He had dumped her but…shouldn't Pansy want him back?
The two Slytherin girls remained at the doorway, talking quietly. From what he could see of their gestures, Pansy apparently didn't want to as much as share the table with him. They were joined at the door by Annabelle, who had showered and dressed in record time. Her addition to the group appeared to outweigh Pansy's objections. Together, she and Millicent each linked an arm and frogmarched Pansy inside. Once she was moving, Pansy gave up struggling. Draco watched her painstakingly avoid looking at him as the trio passed. He noticed Annabelle looking at Theo and smiling, the gesture was returned. That jarred in Draco's head. They shouldn't be on such good terms, not after the row they had just been having. Not after he had just walloped her.
Draco looked intently at Annabelle, from the sound, Theo had hit her very hard across the face, but Draco could see no mark from the blow. Make up could have disguised it, it was true, but come to think of it, he hadn't noticed a mark earlier either. He was bewildered. Had he simply not hit her hard enough to leave a mark? Or more likely, had she magically hidden the evidence to cover up for Theo? Why would she do that? And what had caused her strange behaviour earlier? Not, he caught himself again, her insulting Hermione, that was par for the course as Annabelle went, but the other stuff. Draco looked over at Theo again, recalling the things he had said to her. Draco found it hard to imagine Theo ever daring to act like that to Annabelle, she who could petrify trolls with a single word. Yet she hadn't responded, hadn't gotten angry, not even when he hit her. Master? What was going on? He looked at Theo again, what had he done to her?
'That, Draco, is a very good question,' Etean's words drifted into Draco's mind.
'Does that mean we are going to find out?'
There was no reply; there was no need for one. Along the table, a tiny smile twisted Etean's lip.
Hermione closed the bedroom door as quietly as she could. The doctor had said Draco needed rest, so she was determined not to wake him. The room was dark, but enough light was getting through the curtains for her to navigate. Hermione made her way over to the bed and quietly drew the curtain back. There he lay. Draco Malfoy, incapacitated…again! Hermione shook her head. Why was it that every time she took her eyes off him for a second, he wound up in hospital?
It was infuriating. He seemed to seek out trouble on an almost daily basis. Why did he always have to go? There were others that could do it, why couldn't he see that? It was really, really annoying. Her eyes settled on his bare chest, on the heavy bandages that hid his wounds. It was terrifying!
Hermione kicked off her shoes and shed her robes. Careful not to wake him, she gently climbed onto the bed and stretched out beside him. She rested her head on her hand and looked down at him. His face twitched and danced – he was dreaming. Hermione smiled and ran a finger gently down his face. She wondered what he was dreaming about. She couldn't begin to imagine. His mind was a strange thing, it could conjure up some very odd things when it wanted to.
She withdrew her hand quickly as he moved. For a moment she thought she had awoken him, but his eyes remained closed. He rolled over onto his side, the wounds on his chest apparently not hurting with the movement. His arm swung round and narrowly missed hitting her. Hermione smiled, adjusted her position slightly and looked down at his hand. It wasn't often that she got to see it. Draco was very self conscious about it. He normally kept his glove on as much as possible so that 'people' wouldn't stare at it. That was what he said at least. Hermione knew that he really didn't want her looking at it. He thought that it made him look ugly to her, a scarred and twisted monster. He couldn't be more wrong of course, but he wouldn't listen.
Hermione reached out with her free hand and touched his, careful not to touch the exposed metal fibres. He could feel those, and she didn't want to wake him. The skin between the fibres was cold, but not unpleasant to the touch. Draco was always quick to remind her that it was dead, but it didn't look that way to her. Yes, it was the wrong colour, and yes, it was cold, but it was just part of Draco. Far from being ugly and repulsive, to her it was a symbol of his strength. He was a warrior and his scars were his trophies. She turned her attention to the scar on his hand. Her finger traced the length of it. Shaped as a bolt of lightning, it instantly made her think of Harry. Bad idea! Where was he? Heaven only knew. She hadn't thought to ask when she had arrived, but she was almost certain that he wasn't here. If anything, he was worse than Draco. Perpetually risking his life when he didn't need to. She shook her head, those two were more alike than either would ever admit, perhaps that was why they had been enemies for so long. She smiled, enemies were what they had been, but you couldn't call them that now. You couldn't call them friends either come to think of it. Hermione didn't think about it for long. She was past trying to define their peculiar relationship these days. They were what they were, and she couldn't waste time worrying about it now. Wherever Harry was, whatever he was doing, he'd survive, he always did.
Draco stirred again. His hand seemed to realise that she was touching it and it curled around her fingers. She looked up at his face, but he was still asleep. His head had rolled back slightly, exposing his neck. Hermione's eyes came to rest on his other scar. A wicked burn starting below his left ear and running down, crossing his carotid artery and down onto his throat. Looking at it had always made Hermione shiver. She saw it often enough though, this one he didn't hide. He said it was there to remind him of what he was and of what he was trying to become. Hermione didn't really understand what that meant. But if the war had taught her anything, it was that scars were a part of life – You couldn't avoid them. Draco had his scars, just as she had hers. Hermione blinked away the bad memories and let her hold on his hand tighten ever so slightly. His scar glinted slightly. The odd pattern of the dragon's wing burned into his skin was strangely clear in this light. Hermione watched his pulse beat beneath it for a moment. Burns were never the prettiest of scars to look at and this one was no exception. Yet it was part of him, as was the pain of its creation, so she loved it just as she loved him.
"It isn't polite to stare you know?" Draco's voice sounded groggy. He hadn't opened his eyes.
Hermione lowered her head onto the pillow beside his. "How long have you been awake?"
"How long have you been here?" He smiled, but still kept his eyes closed.
"I just got back from London," she answered, keeping her voice a whisper to preserve the quiet of the moment, "they said you'd been hurt." She looked down at his bandages for a moment.
"It isn't that bad," he said dismissively, "I just have to learn to dodge faster in future."
Hermione moved closer to him. "You shouldn't be dodging at all and you know it," she didn't make much of an effort to disguise the scolding tone in her voice, "It doesn't always have to be you. Why not let someone else…"
"Hermione," he interrupted her.
"What?"
He opened his eyes and looked at her. "Shut up."
Draco moved toward her, his lips parted as he prepared to kiss her. Hermione closed her eyes and waited for their lips to meet.
They never did. After a few moments, she opened her eyes in confusion. She was lying on her side on a bed, staring at a drawn curtain. Draco was nowhere in sight. She frowned for a moment, then it made sense. She rolled over onto her back and stared at the ceiling. It was light, clearly after dawn. Hermione couldn't remember the last time she had woken up in daylight. She reached out and tugged the curtain back to look at her clock. It was eight thirty six. She lay back again and started doing the sums.
'Six hours!' it was the longest she had slept in months. To Hermione it felt more like an eternity. She was awake, really awake for the first time in forever.
'You're welcome,' the voice inside her head returned.
Hermione sighed. 'You did that?'
There was a slight laugh. 'No, of course I didn't,' it sounded sarcastic. 'I don't exist, remember?'
Hermione was about to answer, when she remembered that there was no point. She was talking to herself, there was no other way to put it. She rubbed her eyes, and then realised what time it was.
"Shit," she exclaimed, rather louder than she had intended, and leapt out of bed.
'Where is she?' Draco craned his neck and looked around the classroom again. No, Hermione wasn't here. Professor McGonagall was though, she was sitting at her desk writing. Every few moments, her eyes raised and scanned the room, hovering for a moment at the door. She was stalling, deliberately delaying the start of class because Hermione wasn't here. Draco knew full well that she wouldn't do that for him, or for any other student.
Beside Draco, Etean sighed. "This is fun," he grumbled quietly.
"Would you rather be doing Transfiguration?" Draco asked him.
"That is why we are here, isn't it?" Etean sat forward and started to flip through his book. Draco was about to ask him what had annoyed him, but at that moment the door opened. Hermione entered looking flushed. She ground to a halt beside the only available seat, next to Lavender Brown, and dropped her bag. She looked up and opened her mouth to speak but McGonagall was quicker than her.
"Take a seat Miss Granger," she said in a stern tone. Hermione complied. Draco turned and watched her face glow red with embarrassment. McGonagall cleared her throat and launched into her lecture. Draco paid her no heed, preferring instead to watch Hermione. This wasn't looking like her lucky day. He watched her rummage furiously in her bag and then, straighten up empty handed. He smiled. 'She's forgotten her book, silly girl.' Their eyes met. Draco shot her a grin and a slight head shake. Hermione looked none too happy. She scowled at him briefly before leaning over to Lavender and asking to share her book. Lavender shook her head and rolled her eyes, but then pushed her book into the centre of the desk.
Out of nowhere, Etean suddenly kicked Draco in the ankle. "Ouch!" he hissed, turning round, "what was that f…" The question answered itself. McGonagall was looking at him. She had obviously just said something to him which Draco hadn't heard. Her glare was icy. 'Damn it,' he scrambled for an answer, had she asked him a question? 'Little help please,' he sent to Etean.
McGonagall answered for him. "Did you not hear me, Mr Malfoy?"
Draco swallowed. 'That name again!' He shook his head. "No, Professor, I didn't."
McGonagall nodded curtly. "Indeed, perhaps it would be best if you were to focus on me during class in future?" It was posed as a question.
"Yes, Professor," Draco answered sheepishly, "I'm sorry."
"As well you should be," McGonagall snapped. Her eyes darted from Draco to Hermione for a second. The hint of a question flashed across her face. "I take it that I now have your full attention?"
"Yes, Professor."
"Well then, perhaps you could now answer the question: What benefits does the addition of Unicorn based ingredients to medicinal potions have?"
'What?' Draco frowned, potions? This was supposed to be Transfiguration. His mind raced, there were quite a few potions he knew of that could be called 'medicinal', dozens in fact. They ranged from burn ointments to cold remedies. He even knew of one called Dormiens that rendered the drinker immune to almost any poison. But the key ingredient in that was a bezoar stone, not Unicorn. As it happened, he didn't know of any potions that were brewed from Unicorn, medicinal or otherwise.
"I…" he cleared his throat, "I'm afraid that I don't know, Professor."
McGonagall scowled. "What a surprise!" she said dismissively. "One of these days, Mr Malfoy, you will give me the surprise of my life and actually do the pre-class reading that I set for you. I assure you that I do not do it purely for the good of my health or for fun."
Draco felt himself shrink with every word from the Professor's mouth. McGonagall looked as though she was getting ready for another salvo when another voice cut the air.
"Please Professor!" it was Hermione's voice.
McGonagall stopped and looked up at her. To Draco's mind it appeared as though everyone else had turned too. It had been weeks since Hermione had answered a question in class without it being directed at her specifically. Draco knew it was because she wasn't sleeping any better than he was, if anything, she was worse off than him. Sometimes she barely had the energy to stay awake, yet alone do her homework. She hadn't liked it, but she still refused to ask for any medical assistance, so she had been forced to cut back on her studies. Draco knew that it was tough for her, but she seemed to have accepted it, albeit reluctantly. She had even started skipping classes, Defence classes mostly, claiming that they were too tiring for her. Draco looked at her now, sitting in the back row with her hand raised, the image of herself of old. Clearly 'cutting back' didn't include Transfiguration. He shrugged, it was her favourite class after all.
"You know the answer, Miss Granger?" McGonagall asked. Draco heard the merest trace of smugness in her voice.
Hermione nodded and lowered her hand. "Yes. Unicorn isn't used in medical potions…or in any others. It is considered a dangerous substance and so, its use is banned."
"And why is it considered dangerous?"
"Because it is unstable. Consumption of undiluted Unicorn blood has disastrous consequences for the drinker. While it does have certain benefits, curing illness and preserving life, the…erm, negative side-effects are severe. Some of the worst of them are madness, dementia and paranoia. Unicorn blood also instantly renders the subject entirely dependent on it for survival, they have to consume ever increasing quantities of it each day or they die."
Draco remained looking at Hermione for a moment until she looked at him. 'Thank You!' he mouthed at her before looking away. McGonagall was speaking again.
"Precisely," McGonagall smiled wide, "Take twenty house points, Miss Granger," there was a groan from the Slytherin side of the room, but not, Draco noticed, an answering cheer from the Gryffindors. He saw some of them exchange sideways looks, but they remained silent. "The effects of exposure to Unicorn blood are, as Miss Granger pointed out, quite devastating. The same is true for all other parts of the beast, though only, it is important to note, if the Unicorn is killed in the process of obtaining them. Unicorn tail hairs can be safely harvested, and are often used without difficulty in the cores of many wands, and hairs taken from a Unicorn's mane have long been used as a preservative."
McGonagall paused and consulted her notes for a moment, "Beyond these two uses however, little is known of the properties of Unicorn, and with good reason. The danger of experimentation was revealed when a pair of Irish witches accidentally killed themselves in 1802. They were attempting to brew a potion to reverse aging, however their irresponsible use of Unicorn blood in their experiments accidentally caused incontrollable side-effects. Death spread as a disease amongst all those who came in contact with the sisters, who were too slow to realise their blunder and report it to the authorities. By the time the situation was contained, their mistake had obliterated all life in a village called Tubber, some one hundred and fifty souls." McGonagall paused. "Simple proof that some lines are not meant to be crossed. Following this tragedy, an international ban on further research in the field was introduced. The intention was to prevent further loss of life. Unfortunately, in this case, ignorance has not always been bliss. If you will turn to page 317," she paused for them to comply. Draco flipped to the page and had to suppress a gasp. The page was entirely given over to a drawing of what appeared to be the result of someone taking a Unicorn and dropping it from a great height…in a tornado. The head, with its instantly recognisable ten inch horn was the only thing present that allowed the animal to be identified. Surrounding it, tattered muscles and dripping entrails were scattered about, twisted into shapes that simply couldn't be the result of nature. The overall effect was totally revolting. Based on the sounds coming from around Draco, the class were all thinking roughly the same thing.
Draco looked at Etean, he was tracing a finger along the image with a contemplative look on his face. The Professor cleared her throat to regain order. "It has been theorised in recent years that the instability is caused by the death of the Unicorn itself rather than any inherent property of the beast. Naturally an almost immortal creature, its unnatural death triggers a deep level reaction that unbalances some powerful magical forces. These forces are precisely the reason why Transfigurations involving Unicorns so often go wrong," Draco looked back at the picture. Transfiguration gone wrong? Sure enough, that was what the small caption said, or words to that effect at least. Draco blinked, a new respect for the discipline of Transfiguration settling over him.
The Professor continued her lecture, describing several difficulties in transfiguring Unicorns and eventually branching out to Dragons, Wyverns and Griffins. They were the most famous members of a class of magical creatures that all shared certain dangerous commonalities. He noted however, that while she was more than ready to provide them with ample warnings, she did seem to be deliberately avoiding mentioning any spells or incantations. He assumed that she was simply being cautious, after all, who wanted shredded Unicorns all over the place?
Throughout the lecture, McGonagall called their attention to several more illustrations. Though none were as ghastly as the first one, none of them were remotely pleasant to look at. The picture she showed them to illustrate a failed Dragon transformation was little more than a charred crater. Draco had never before imagined the term 'blast radius,' as applying to an animal transformation.
Occasionally, when McGonagall was otherwise distracted, Draco spared a glance in Hermione's direction. He was pleased to see her gradually striking up a conversation with Lavender. Draco might not care what his housemates thought of him, but the same was not true for Hermione. Maybe she had forgotten her book on purpose as an excuse to have to talk to them. He smiled, she could be remarkably devious when she wanted to be, that one.
The class ended. McGonagall gave them a two foot essay on Wyverns as a parting gift. Draco felt his fingers starting to hurt just thinking about writing it. He left the room to find Hermione waiting for him outside.
"Morning," he said cordially, "I see we are feeling better." It was true, she did look more relaxed.
Hermione smiled at him. "We are, thank you for noticing." She turned with him, linking his arm as they headed down the corridor. Draco noticed Weasley shooting them an angry glare, but the others paid them little heed. The scandal of Draco and Hermione seemed to have lost its appeal what with the war and everything else. They walked in silence down the corridor toward the Defence Against the Dark Arts classroom. They reached the corner, and Hermione stopped.
"Something wrong?" he asked her quietly, stepping aside to allow other students to pass them.
Hermione bit her lip for a moment. "No."
Draco motioned down the corridor. "Well, class is this way."
"I know," she sounded a little off, "but…I'm not going to Defence today."
"Again?" he narrowed his eyes, "Why?"
"I'm too tired."
Draco frowned at her. "You just said you were feeling fine. What's wrong?"
"What do you mean?" she seemed to be getting evasive.
He leaned closer to her. "Well, now this is just a thought, but, well…the last time you were in a duel, it didn't exactly go well, did it?"
She took a breath. "No." She bit her lip again.
Draco put a hand on her shoulder. "And you blame yourself?"
"Who else is there to blame?" she answered defensively.
"Whoa," he retreated a bit, "That isn't what I meant. I just meant that…well…accidents happen, so you don't need to worry."
Hermione took a moment, then shook herself. "No!" she hissed under her breath. "I know that," she said quickly, "But I just…I just don't feel up to it, so don't make a fuss, ok?"
Draco raised his hands in surrender. "Alright…alright. I still think you're worrying about nothing, that's all.
"Stop it," Hermione whispered.
Draco blinked at her in confusion. "Stop what?"
She looked at him, and grimaced slightly. "Nothing," she smiled and shook her head. "Hey," her tone became playful suddenly as she stepped closer to him, "I dreamed about you last night."
This stalled Draco's confusion. Dreaming about him? "Really?" he made his voice sound as smarmy as he could, "Well, no wonder you were late to class. Couldn't drag yourself away eh? It must have been good…"
"Draco!" Hermione's eyes darted around her as she blushed. "Stop it."
"No, no," he wasn't about to let this one go, "Come on, what was the dream about?"
The bell rang. Hermione looked up and appeared to be relieved. "It doesn't matter, you had better be getting to class."
"It can wait," Draco smiled, "you can't get out of this that easy. I'm intrigued. You're in far too good a mood this morning," he raised his gloved hand and gently tapped her temple, "What nasty little scenarios did that mind of yours conjure up?"
Her jaw dropped in indignation, but her eyes were smiling at him. Her eyes moved to his hand, and the smile faded.
"What?" he asked.
"Draco," her voice was trembling a bit, "how's your hand?"
The question caught him off guard. Instinctively he lowered his hand and stuffed it into his pocket. "Fine, why?"
Her eyes never moved from his pocket. "Then why are you still wearing that glove?"
He shrugged, suddenly eager to change the subject. "Habit," he said, "Hey, what am I doing? I had better get to class."
He made to leave, but Hermione stopped him. "Show me your hand, Draco," she demanded.
'What the hell has gotten into her?' Draco's mind was edging toward panic. He looked up and down the corridor hurriedly. They were alone now. "Hermione, really…I have to be going."
"Show me!" her voice had risen. She was tugging at his wrist now.
"No," Draco shook her loose and jumped back from her. "What is wrong with you today?"
Hermione stood in place, out of breath. Her eyes moved rapidly from his pocket to his face and back again. After a few, heavy breaths, she took a step forward. "Draco," she said quietly and slowly as he retreated from her, "please don't ask me to explain this…I'm not sure that I can. But I NEED you to show me what your hand looks like under that glove."
Draco's mind scattered for cover, did she know about his hand? How? "Why?" he asked, stalling for time to think of a way out of this.
"Please, Draco." It was a plea. Hermione's eyes locked onto his. Looking at those amber globes, Draco felt his willpower evaporate. She wasn't going to give up and he couldn't dodge forever. He was going to show her his hand. There was no stopping it now. He looked around again rapidly, then grabbed her by the hand and tugged her down the corridor, back the way they had come. He found an empty classroom and pulled her inside. Draco shut the door behind them and let out a very heavy breath.
"Hermione…" he said.
"Just show me will you?" she demanded again.
Draco turned and looked at her. He felt his heart racing as he lifted his bag from his shoulder and dumped it on the floor. He opened his mouth to say something, but Hermione cut him off with a pleading look.
'This is a mistake!' Draco told himself. He took his hand from his pocket. The glove felt ridiculously heavy as he pulled at it. It seemed to be glued to his fingers. Finally it came free. Draco swallowed and held his hand aloft before her eyes.
Hermione's face paled. Her eyes moved over his hand, growing wider and wider with each passing second. "No," she shook her head, "no, no, no…" She stepped back and seemed to grow unsteady on her feet. Her hand waved about, searching for something to hold her up. She found a desk and made to sit down. She missed and landed heavily on the floor.
"Are you alright?" Draco asked, instantly feeling stupid. 'Is she alright?' He moved over and knelt beside her. "Hermione," he called her but she didn't seem to hear him. She was staring into space, apparently at nothing. He took hold of her head and turned it toward him. "Hermione, please…I know it looks bad…but please listen to me…"
Her head jerked free of his grip. "Listen…listen to you?" she said, starting to sound hysterical. "No…no…no," she pushed him back and clambered to her feet, "No I'm not listening…not anymore…it isn't real, it isn't right…I didn't hear you…I can't hear you!"
Hermione's fingers knotted in her hair. She started to pace in circles, ranting and raving to herself. Draco stared at her for several long moments before something snapped in his mind. He leapt to his feet and grabbed hold of her by the shoulders. "Hermione," he shook her, a bit harder than he intended, "What is it?" she didn't answer. Draco shook her again, "Please…calm down and talk to me. I know it looks…scary, but I can explain…really I can…"
Her eyes focussed on him. "Expl…explain?" she said, sounding as though every syllable was torture. She looked down at his hand where he was still holding her shoulder. "No," her voice sounded strained, "no, it's still there."
"I know," Draco sighed, "but if you'll just listen…"
"You don't understand," she interrupted him, "I…" she tailed off and shut her eyes, "I saw it."
"Yes," Draco said, confused once more, "I showed it to you."
"No," she shook her head, "I mean…I saw it before…you showed it to me."
Draco let her go, she seemed calmer now. "What do you mean?"
It took her a moment to answer. "My dream…the one you were asking about earlier. You were…we were lying on a bed, talking. I looked down at your hand and…" she reached out as though to touch his hand, "it was this."
Draco's mind tried to fit that in, and failed. "You saw my hand…in your dream?"
"Yes…but…I couldn't have…I mean, it can't have been real, can it?" she asked the question hopefully.
'How the hell should I know?' "I don't know," he answered honestly. "I mean, I know that some people see things…visions, in dreams…but didn't all those books we read say that you had to be born with those kinds of powers?"
"Yes, and I wasn't, nothing like this has ever happened to me before," she said flatly. "So that leaves only one answer."
"You aren't going crazy, Hermione," he assured her. She opened her mouth to contradict him, but he covered her lips with his thumb before she got the chance, "You aren't," he took a deep breath and stepped away from her. "You…really saw this?" he raised his hand. She nodded, "And it was exactly like this?" Another nod, "Well then…if you saw it, then you saw it. We can't waste time worrying about how, we just have to figure out what to do about it."
Hermione spread her arms. "How?"
"I don't know," Draco answered. His eyes narrowed. 'But I think I know someone who would!'
A/N: Ok that may not be the best place to leave it, but that's where you are. Someone asked me if I was intentionally making this longer than OTP, I wasn't, but here we are. All i can say is that it will be as long as it turns out to be, if i rush the ending (yes i have it planned sheesh!) it will be an insult to your patience. We are getting there, its just that there are so many arcs to tie off…
By the by, thank you for all reviews, I like getting them so feel free to drop me a line if you feel I deserve it.