Mist crowded the air like a flock of faded birds low on the ground. A wolf howled in the distance-no, a werewolf howled in the distance; it's howl is more ravenous. Eerie statues of angels surrounded the area. Hermione felt her lungs grow cold as they filled with the crisp air. She hugged herself and shivered. The trees were bare, balded by winter's gaze. The grass was frosted white and crunched as someone walked by. Large robes dragged on what seemed to be a small boy. Hermione looked at him quizzically and followed him, she didn't want to scare him. She whispered a silencing spell and hid beneath the shadows and statues. The boy continued walking towards what seemed to be an important destination.

Another cloaked figure appeared, an adult whose robes fit properly. His face was covered by the shadow of the hood cast by the moonlight. The boy began to run towards the figure with joy. I'm so excited to see him! the boy thought to himself. He went to embrace the figure.

Petrificus Totalus! A blast of light emitted from the figure's wand. The boy fell down in his hugging position and looked around in fear. His hood fell off. He was a blond little boy with angular features. His gray eyes became misty like their surroundings.

Draco, Hermione thought to herself. She remained hidden within the shadows. The figure slowly removed his hood to get a better look at his victim. Lucius.

Lucius's hair wasn't as long as it was in the present day. It was short, about shoulder length. Still, it was just as slicked back and greasy. He walked elegantly around Draco like a lion parading around its prey.

"My, my, my, someone got ahold of my robes," he sneered as he leaned down and whispered "trying to be like daddy again?" He stood up and gave a dark chuckle. "Coward. You think you could ever be like me? I am superior here, and you will always be inferior." He kicked the boy in the side. "This position you're in right here, is how you will always be. So weak. So fragile. So pathetic," he hissed. A single tear rolled down Draco's face. "Tsk, crying already, I'll show you. Crucio!" The boy did not even cringe due to the body binding spell. He did not scream. He could not do anything but blink and breathe. His breathing became heavy. Lucius repeated the spell multiple times as Draco's body flew around the graveyard.

Hermione let out a sob. How could this be happening? I have to fix this, she said to herself. She waited for Lucius to turn around and face away from her. Finally he did.

Hermione emerged from the shadows. "Petrificus Totalus!" she shouted towards him and a light released from her wand and hit him. She let him fall. Immediately she ran to young Draco, "Finite incantatem" she said softly to the boy. He began to scream and cry without shame. Hermione held him and comforted him. "It'll be okay."

Then she awoke.

Draco came back to life in a sweat, as he often did. His blonde hair stuck to his forehead and his shirt was wet. He rolled out of bed and tugged off the gray tee which matched his gray eyes. He threw the shirt off to the side where his other clothes lay limp. Something was different this time. That dream. It ended differently. I was safe? I don't understand, he questioned to himself. Typically, this dream ended in his father screaming at him, telling him how awful of a person he was. Draco would awake much more scared than he did this fine morning. He pushed it off as nothing.

Draco's closet was filled to the brim. It was a big, oak wardrobe that had plenty of character to it. His clothes were placed into sections: his white dress shirts, his blazers, his robes, his casual clothes, etc. There were drawers that were filled with other necessities like his underwear, socks, ties, shoes. His eyes wandered, longingly stopping at the casual clothes and reluctantly moving to the white dress shirts and blazers. He chose a black blazer and found matching dress pants and pulled a white shirt off a hanger.

He turned on the shower and looked in the mirror. His face screamed "tired". Dark circles hung onto the bottom of his eyelids. His eyes hurt every time he blinked. A type of soreness that few truly know. A soreness that lingered through his whole body. He grabbed his shoulder, I'm sick of these aches, he thought, somberly. He looked down to the black granite sink and stared into the constellations of tiny pebbles he found engraved inside. I don't think anyone truly understands what I'm going through. I'm so alone in this-this hell. I just want somebody to understand. To love. But I don't think anyone would love me. Because fathers, their supposed to love you, and if this is what love is then I don't want it. I don't want to feel this pain again! I don't want to have to live the rest of my life feeling this way! Anger rose in his throat. He looked up to the mirror, his face was red, his eyes watery. He screamed out of anger. Blood rolled down from the shattered glass. Shit! Draco was the worst at repairing and healing spells, and if his father found out, he would be disowned. "No son of mine will be so weak as to show emotion." Draco repeated the words his father so often uttered.

He proceeded to take a shower- now he had to with blood all over his hand- and thought about what was happening to him. I just don't understand. I don't understand what's happening inside my head. My dreams are replays of my life, like a moving photograph with sound. But I also get them in the day. As soon as something reminds me of my father, I'm thrown into a whirlwind of vibrant memories. I can't escape. They're always there. I try shutting them down and they just come back more intense. Why is this happening to me? Why ME?! What did I ever do?! Wait, I can't do that. All this emotion is so conflicting. I can't show it though. Father still threatens me. With his eyes, hard and cold like ice, yet sharp like a blade. They cut into my soul, it seems. Souls, pfft. Maybe I wasn't given a soul, and that's why this happens to me. Harry has a soul. Everyone loves him. "Harry Potter, the chosen one!" I'm sick of hearing it, yet I can never hear it enough. Hermione has a soul. It's beautiful. Stop, Draco, stop. You can't think about them like that. Harry is the chosen one, you'll never be good enough for him. And Granger is a mudblood. Do you ever think that relationship will be accepted? That's even if she feels the same? Stupid. Father was right about you.

The shower turned off and Draco stepped out and dried himself off. His hair stood up in discombobulated spikes. He gazed down to his hand. Open wounds melted into the surface of his pale skin. Then he realized, "Dobby!"

The green house elf appeared, his eyes also reflected exhaustion.

"How may Dobby help you, Master Draco?" he said.

"Are you good at repairing things?" Draco responded.

"What would Dobby be repairing?"

"Well there's this," Draco gestured to the broken mirror, "and there's this," he held up his hand.

"Master Draco, you're hurting yourself again," the elf was concerned.

"Please don't patronize me, Dobby. I'm already in enough pain."

"Dobby can fix it. Both of them," he snapped his fingers in the general direction of the mirror and then wrapped his long-fingered green hands around Draco's bloody one. Both instantly repaired.

Dear Draco,

Normally, I would not be contacting you for obvious reasons, but I feel that this is an emergency. You see, I have this... thing. Everytime I have a strong emotional connection with someone, I feel that something is wrong with them. I can normally tell who it is by the feeling that I get, but one day, I couldn't tell where the feeling was coming from. I brushed it off. Until last night when I had a dream, nightmare, really, and you were in it. You were a young boy, and your father was doing terrible things to you. I now know that that feeling I was experiencing was for you. Take that as you will, but we should talk about this. Send me an owl back when you get the chance.

From,

Hermione Granger

Lucius screamed, "DRACO!"

Draco looked up from his hand that was now healed. "Dobby, I have to go." He ran downstairs, heart racing.

"Yes, father?"

"What. Is. This?" he held out the letter for Draco to read.

So Hermione changed the nightmare. How did that happen?

Lucius read Draco's inquisitive face. "Something interesting, Draco?"

"Yeah, I don't know why she would contact me about something so weird. Like what feelings, ha, that's stupid."

"Don't lie to me Draco!"

"I'm not lying! I don't know why she would contact me!"

"You imbecile! You useless swine! You shouldn't be alive with how useless you are. You had potential, and now you're working with mudbloods! I raised you better! Your mother raised you better!"

"Yeah well where is my mother now? She went away for another few days! Did you piss her off again?"

Lucius slapped Draco, hard.

"How dare you!? How dare you question my authority and stand up to me? You are weak! You crumble like termite infested wood! You can try to stand up to me all you want, but you will always be less than me!"

Lucius pivoted and stormed out of the room, his blonde hair flowing behind him like whispers of hatred.