Chapter 17:

Photographs and Disturbing Dreams

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"Do I even dare asking whom you were with at this hour?"

Blaise flinched at the sudden intrusion on his attempts to enter the Slytherin common room unnoticed.

"No?" He almost grimaced at how pathetically weak he sounded.

Draco sighed and continued to file his nails with an air of experience and skill.

"Granger, I'll bet. Really Blaise," he clucked sympathetically. "What am I going to do with you?"

The raven-haired boy shrugged and strode across the room to the staircase.

"What I do is my concern. Now it's," he glanced at his watch, "5:53, so good night-erm morning, Draco."

The other boy simply smirked, picked up a bottle of acid green nail polish from the table and proceeded to coat his nails with it.

Silence, and then: "DRACO! What the bloody hell did you do to my bed?"

Hermione rolled over and furrowed her brow as disturbing images invaded her resting mind.

"But mummy, I don't want to marry Severus Snape."

A wizened old woman stepped over to Hermione and pinched her check affectionately.

"Ye be ready for marriage little one. He be a good-no," she paused and then corrected herself, "wealthy man."

Then the hunched figure limped over to what Hermione assumed was the closet, and picked out a frilly pink monstrosity for dressing purposes.

"Um-"

The old woman chuckled and laid the horrible dress on the bed beside the prone girl.

"This be me first party dress. Wear it well young one."

Hermione cringed as she held up the dress by one oversized limp bow.

"Alright…I suppose I could." And then with a flash she grinned and realized that this dress was what she needed to repulse Snape from her.

"I would love to wear this," she stated with a sunny grin.

The old woman's wrinkles creased her forehead as she also smiled and made her way out of the room.

"I knew ye would love it. With this on, you'll be married by the New Year!"

Hermione's brow crinkled in confusion, "Which is…"

A bit cross, the woman huffed, "1362 of course. Not a very bright child are you…"

Hermione shot up in bed rapidly, "I don't want to marry Snape!"

Parvarti threw a shoe at the excited girl and muttered into her pillow, "I don't either. Go to bed, Hermione!"

Blaise massaged his temples and repeated himself very slowly.

"Why are there dozens of bloody pictures on my bed, Draco?"

Draco fingered one such picture thoughtfully, "I just wanted to open up your eyes to the other fantastic girls here, before you settle down with a- a Gryffindor."

He picked up a picture at random, "Take her for example- Padma Patil. Lovely bird, isn't she?" At Blaise's blank look, he continued.

"Pure-blooded Ravenclaw, she has a sister in Gryffindor I think, but that can be ignored. Well, what do you think?"

"I think you need help. A lot of help."

With a wave of his wand the snap-shots transferred from his four-poster to Draco's, and Blaise got under his covers moodily.

"You date them if they're so bloody perfect." And with that, he snapped his curtain shut, and dropped off to sleep.

Draco, now blowing testily on his fingernails, sighed and flopped onto his own bed, a slew of photographs dropping to the floor unnoticed with his action.

He closed his bed-curtains swiftly after another glance at Blaise's bed, and muttered a quick "silencio". Pulling out what appeared to be a muggle walkie-talkie, he pouted pathetically.

"Serpent to home base- Flower, do you read me?"

The confused voice of Pansy answered him, "Do I what you? You're not a book Draco…"

Draco slapped a hand to his forehead and chided himself for not expecting that.

A struggle could be heard on the other line as Draco performed a temple massage reminiscent of his ruffled friend in the bed across from him.

"Draco," came a slightly deeper voice, "it's Millie. What happened?"

"He wasn't exactly thrilled at the photos…"

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