Note:

Sorry, it's so short. Enjoy!

It was late when Draco arrived back at Hogwarts castle. He checked his watch, it was 11:50. His trunk was heavy in his cold hands, as he trudged up the grounds alone. He walked silently through the Entrance Hall, the only noise were his school shoes tapping against the stone floor. He walked slowly, his eyelids drooping slightly as he made his way to the dungeons. He walked through the tunnels leading to the Slytherin common room, said the password and stepped in through the wall. He hadn't expected anybody else to still be awake, but he was wrong. There were a few stragglers, mostly seventh years, but as he'd understood, they were heading for bed. As he walked through the common room, his eyes darted to the fireplace, where at the coffee table sat Aimee, with a book open in front of her, her wand in her hand. She seemed to be reading the words aloud to herself, and kept doing complicated flicks with her wand.

Before he could stop himself, he whispered tiredly to her,

"Hey"

She raised her head, she too looked tired.

"Hi"

They stayed silent for a minute, just looking at each other. Then Aimee narrowed her eyes and asked,

"What's wrong?"

He knew at once she could see a difference in him, she could sense something wrong. But he knew he couldn't tell her anything, not a word, not a whisper.

"Nothing" he told her curtly. She gave a short exhale, and went back to her book, muttering the word 'Partum Postulo' and flicking her wand. Draco once again saw the scars on her right hand, and curiosity got the better of him,

"How did you get those scars?" he asked her this in a whisper, though he did not know why. She stopped what she was doing and looked at him, she didn't look tired anymore. She seemed as though she was going to tell him, she opened her mouth speak, but nothing came out. She looked down at her hand, looking as though she was contemplating actually telling him. She looked up again and he realised she was seeing if the room was empty. They both spotted a second-year asleep in one of the armchairs across the room.

"Long story." she answered, closed her book and got up, she swayed a bit. He presumed her leg had fallen asleep, "Good night." She limped over to the girls dormitories and disappeared.

"Good night" he said in a hoarse voice and went back to his own dormitory.

Once inside the room, he sluggishly put away his things, changed into his pyjama's and pulled his curtains around his bed. Within minutes, he was asleep.

Aimee only had a few days to finish her dress, because the ball was on Friday night. So far she had created the skirt part of the dress, because that was by far the easiest bit, and she thought she'd done a good job. The top part, however, was proving to be quite challenging. Far more challenging than she thought it would be. The day of lessons passed her by quickly, and before she knew it, she was sitting on her bed, legs crossed, her curtains drawn around her four poster bed and she was creating the final details of her dress. After an hour or so of sewing, unpicking and resewing she had finished the top. Now all she had to do was to put the pieces together.

She placed the skirt under the bust of the dress, waved her wand and said,

"Vestio Partum!"

At once the two pieces glowed, and attached themselves together. She picked up her dress, it felt soft in her hands, and she observed it, trying to find any imperfections, but she couldn't find any. She peeked through her curtains to make sure she was alone, and indeed she was. She stood up, walked to the mirror and held the dress up against herself. It was the right length, and it seemed perfect to her. She folded it up neatly, and stowed it away safely at the bottom of her trunk, so that no prying eyes would see it.

She ran her hand through her hair, and felt that it was greasy. She pulled her toiletries out of her trunk, along with a towel and headed for the girls bathrooms. She opened the door and stepped into the stony bathroom. To her right were the showers, directly in front of her, through a door, were the toilets, and to her left were the baths; those too were behind a door. She walked through the door to her left. Each bathtub had its own private room, with supplies in the cupboards.

She chose a room on the far side, where it was more private. She lit several candles, which created a green flame and cast a green light around the room. Turning the emerald encrusted taps; she filled her bath with hot water and added some bubbles. She stripped off her clothes and stepped in carefully, the water was extremely hot. After a minute or so, she finally sat down and allowed herself to go under the water, wetting her hair. She soaked in the bathtub for a while, half asleep, going over the events of her sixth Hogwarts year in her head. She then thought about yesterday and asked herself, Why was Draco absent yesterday? Why did he only come last night? What's wrong with him?

Then she asked herself another question: Why did she care? She decided not to think about the answer and allowed herself to fall back into a half sleep.

She was laughing, facing a man with broad shoulders, short black hair and blue eyes; he was also laughing. Behind her, a woman picked her up and placed her side-saddle on a broomstick that was floating four-feet in the air. She looked up at the woman, who had brown hair down to her waist and twinkling brown eyes, who had swung her leg over the broom and was now sitting behind her, holding her close, so that she wouldn't fall. Finally the man seated the broom, leading them; and they were off. They soared through the sky for what seemed like hours, she never felt so exhilarated in her life. She heard the woman yell something to the man; he looked back at them, smiling. He could not see the enormous oak tree that was now ahead of them...

Aimee jolted back into consciousness, her bath water now icy cold, and there were no more bubbles. The candles were no longer lit, and her skin was ridiculously pruned. She pulled herself out of the tub. The cold air on her already cold skin made her shiver so violently that her teeth were chattering. She checked her watch, which she had discarded on the floor, along with the rest of her clothes and saw that it was 2:25 in the morning. She pulled the plug out of the tub and got dressed; drying her sopping wet hair on her way back to her dorm room. She wasn't surprised when she saw that was nobody in the common room, and that all the girls in her room were asleep.

She lay down on her bed, without bothering to pull her blanket over her, even though she was cold. She'd had that dream before, she knew it. But to her, it seemed more like a repressed memory. The man and woman felt so familiar, like she'd met them before, but she also felt very young, maybe around the age of a toddler.

Aimee didn't sleep that night; instead she tossed and turned until the sun rose. She got up, got dressed and headed off for breakfast, feeling only vaguely tired.

The lesson after lunch was History of Magic. Draco had no idea as to why he hadn't dropped it, it was extremely boring. He sat at his desk, his head resting on his arms. He was trying painfully hard to not fall asleep, to try and listen, but sleep was winning. He looked to his right and saw Ernie Macmillan; they had class with the Hufflepuff's. He turned his head again, in the seat to his left sat Pansy, in front of her sat Aimee, who also had her head on her desk, although she looked like she was listening.

Draco took out a piece of parchment and wrote on it, and passed it to Pansy, she read the words:

What does Aimee's dress look like?

Pansy's nostrils flared for a split second before she wrote her answer and passed the note back to Draco,

Not a clue

He wrote back,

You don't even know the colour?

She answered,

Nope, nobody does. Already tried to get her to show us or tell us. That girl can really keep a secret.

Draco didn't write back. He merely fell back into his stupor, thinking about his own dress robes he had received just this morning.