Disclaimer: I own no part of Harry Potter, its characters or locations. The café and the personalities of Vera, Audrey and Hermione's mother are yanked from my mind. The song used in Hermione's second dream is called Everybody by Ingrid Michaelson.
Author's Note: We're ignoring the epilogue now. And Hermione's parents haven't been Obliviated.
Warning: This chapter includes revenge plots and Luna being inappropriate.
Draco
I woke up in a brightly lit room with my head pounding. I was in an unfamiliar bed and the room smelt of bleach and lemon. I blinked and looked around me, disoriented for a moment before I remembered. Granger had beaten me with a shopping bag. I was in America. I scowled furiously.
"Oh, are you awake?" A cool female voice said. "The calming draught must have worn off, although how you woke up so fast is beyond me." I scowled harder. I do not want another calming draught. "Can you sit up?" The woman asked me. I slowly lifted myself up into a sitting position on the bed. "Good." She drew out the word so it had ten syllables.
"I don't want another calming draught," I said. I scowled at how groggy my voice sounded. I sound like that Longbottom boy. Pathetic.
"You need sleep," the Healer insisted. "You were beaten badly." I turned my head sharply to look at her.
"Ouch!" I yelped and rubbed my neck. Pathetic. I closed my eyes for a moment and got the pain under control. When I opened my eyes the Healer woman was smiling kindly at me. She was a short, middle-aged black witch with shining straight hair pulled into a long ponytail. The woman had a long, narrow face and shockingly green eyes framed by long lashes. She looked like someone I knew, but I couldn't place her.
"At least take a pain killing potion?" She suggested. I noticed that she had a bit of a Southern accent. "The Malfoy code allows that, right?" I blinked. How does she know who I am? Seeing my bewilderment she elaborated quickly. "Your name was on the clipboard you had, and I've met your aunt Bellatrix. You look significantly more…erm…" She paused. "Put together than she did." I smirked. Aunt Bella must have shocked this woman beyond belief.
"I'll take a pain killer, but I don't want to be knocked out," I agreed.
"You took quite a beating yesterday," the Healer commented. She waved her wand and a large green bottle came zooming from the next room. She waved her wand again and a goblet appeared. "That Hermione Granger…she wasn't my favorite witch, but she certainly isn't one to rile up!" The Healer poured the bright pink liquid from the bottle into the goblet and handed it to me. I scowled at her.
"She took me by surprise," I said frostily. "And it was her fault." I drank the pink liquid. It was salty, but not unpleasant. As soon as I had finished with the goblet I began to feel a tingling sensation in my limbs, numbing my pain. The witch nodded and took the goblet.
"There's no shame in defeat," she said, giving me a matronly smile. "I've seen that Granger girl take down men twice your size for half the offense. Of course, your aunt wouldn't have accepted that. I suspect you won't either, am I right?" I nodded, feeling like a small child. "But the best thing to do is to go and seek revenge." She gave me a kind smile again. "She is a Mudblood, right? Ask your aunt Bellatrix for help. Nothing illegal of course, but something to make her know her place…oh, this reminds me of when I was young…" She trailed off, apparently lost in memory.
"What do you mean 'when you were young'? What happened?" I asked, feeling slightly woozy from the painkiller and barrage of advice.
The witch looked at me. "Ah, it was years ago. I was a Snatcher…not quite good enough for the real Death Eaters, but I've bled my share of Muggle –borns." She smiled conspiratorially. "Not that you heard that from me." Her smile widened and grew more feral. She looks like Blaise. Didn't he have an aunt who was with the Dark Lord?
"I don't think Aunt Bellatrix will come up with anything legal," I said, more to myself than her.
"Well, I have a few suggestions if you'd like to hear them," The Healer said. "But you didn't get these ideas from me, right?"
"Right," I said with a little smirk.
"Right. Well, you could leave her threatening notes, but that might get you arrested by the Muggle police. We know a fight won't work, that Granger's a regular Merlin with spells. So, the option left…. break her heart." The Healer grinned at me.
"Break her heart? What does that mean?" She raised one eyebrow at me. "Okay, I know what you mean, but there are two problems. For one, she hates me. It's going to be kind of hard to turn that around. For another, I have no idea how to go about that. It's just a tad bit difficult to plan something like that," I spilled out in one breath. The witch gave me her matronly smile.
"We can let you out today," she said as a man in a white coat came over. "If you'd fill out some forms and get lots of rest, okay?" He beamed at me.
"How are we doing today, hm?" He had the sugary voice I had heard my mother use around people she didn't like but needed to interact with. "Feeling better?" I nodded and gave him the nicest smile I could manage. The Healer was beaming at him, too. "Good. I can see you're in good hands here, so I'll leave you to fill out your forms, okay?" He strode away, his arms swinging by his sides.
The Healer turned back to me. She made a small circle with her wand. A small bottle labeled 'Pain Killer' appeared in mid air. It was filled with more of the bright pink liquid I had drunk earlier. "Medicine for you," she said. She plucked the bottle out of the air and handed it to me. "And…" She made a slashing motion with her wand. A piece of parchment appeared. She took it and tapped it with her wand. "A plan for you. I know Granger and I know heartbreak. Owl me with the results, okay? Send an owl to St. Mungo's, USA, and label the scroll 'Vera Zabini'. That's me." She gave me a grin that suddenly looked exactly like Blaise's. So they are related. I'll have to tell him I met her. "Oh, and tell your aunt the jinx is in play. She'll know what it means." Vera winked.
"Thanks. I'll send you an owl, and I'll also tell Blaise I met you," I said. "He mentioned he had an aunt in America." She winked again.
"Blaise! He'd better owl me soon before I send him a Howler!" She put her hands on her ample hips. "If you'd head on down to the front desk and fill out a release form, you can get out of here. Just tell 'em your name." I stood and gave her a small bow. "Oh! You'll need your street clothes!" She exclaimed. "Accio Draco Malfoy's clothing!" She waved her wand in the air like a conductor's baton and my outfit floated out of a small cabinet in the corner of the room. "I'll leave you to change. Elevator is down the hall." She walked quickly out of the room, her head up and ponytail swinging.
I filled out my release form and took a unicorn sticker. I do love these, no matter how girly they may be. Clutching my empty tote bag, potion bottle and revenge plot I twisted into darkness and reappeared outside Malfoy Manor.
Sitting in my main bedroom (I had a few of them around the Manor) I began to read the plot Vera Zabini had written in golden ink.
Operation Granger Heartbreak
Your mission, Draco Malfoy, should you choose to accept it, is to break Hermione Granger's heart beyond repair. The following plan details how to do so. Hide this plan (and open it again) by waving your wand over the parchment and saying the words 'Vera told me so' over it.
Step One: Flirt.
To get Granger's attention, you're going to have to learn to be charming. To do that, not only are you going to have to stop calling her 'Mudblood', you're going to have to listen. Remember she's smart. Being too nice will give you away. Ease her into liking you slowly. Listen to her. Talk about things she likes. Be assertive and arrogant, though. Throw in an insult every so often.
Granger lives in a tiny town called Ottery St. Catchpole. She told me she lived there for 2 reasons.
The Café
The Bookshop
The Café: The Café Du Locke. Blaise goes there, and I believe you have as well. She'll be working the afternoon shift in the main room or you might find her there in the morning. Don't talk to her if you're there with Blaise during this stage. Don't try to go into the Gryffindor room. If possible, comment to her when buying coffee.
The Bookshop: A little bookshop on Main Street called Cozy's. A liberated houself and a runaway named Linda Black in the 17th century founded it. Say nothing unfavorable about blood traitors, Mudblood or house elf labor while in Cozy's. She could be in there almost any time of day except during her shift at the Café. I would suggest going there on a Sunday sometime around 10 AM. Remember that appearing too much will be obvious. Keep your visits here limited to once a week, and always buy or read a book when you're in the shop.
Come up with an excuse for you to be in Ottery St. Catchpole frequently. Local deliveries for your job (You had a fancy title, something like International Apparation Specialist.) Don't tell her you're a delivery boy. If she figures it out, don't get too offended.
She has a long, ratty gray cloak that she likes to wear with the hood up. Assume all short, curly haired women are Granger. Remember to be covert. Be mean at first. Don't try to see her when you're drunk. Don't get beat up again.
Do this for about a week or until she becomes used to seeing you around town before you move on to step 2.
I recommend you tell your aunt about the plan as soon as possible. And remember to give her my message.
I folded the parchment and put it on the bedside table. Digging my wand out of my pocket, I said the magic words.
"Vera told me so!" I said, feeling triumphant for no reason at all. I looked out the window at the position of the sun. It was around sundown. I estimated Granger would probably be near the end of her shift now. I didn't want to run into her right then, though. I should go to work. There could be a new delivery. I changed into a pair of black pants and a green long sleeve T -shirt. No button downs today. I'll just wear a coat.I put on my gray wool military style coat. Pausing briefly to say hello to my mother on the way out of the Manor, I Apparated to my job.
"'Lo, Malfoy," a man said as I strode inside the office. He was a heavyset man with a wrinkled forehead from worrying, shrewd eyes and olive toned skin. I recognized him as Travis Smith, the specialist in charge of 'School Deliveries'. He did all the illegal transactions that required stealth.
"Smith," I replied coldly as I walked past. I had no friendship with the man. He unnerved me a bit. Something in his eyes made me feel like I should curse him to protect
myself. Old reflex, I suppose. I had to curse a lot of people during the war.
You never fought on the front lines! Granger's words echoed in my ears and I winced at the phantom pain in my nose. Filthy Mudblood. I can't wait to get revenge.
I entered the room where my department's deliveries were kept. My boss was standing with her back to me, her hands clenched behind her back. She was a stern woman who spoke only to command people.
"Malfoy!" She barked. "Margaret's out today! Take her delivery!"
I gritted my teeth. "Yes, ma'am," I said in the most respectful tone I could muster. "Where am I delivering to?" Margaret did local deliveries only as she couldn't Apparate very far. She did mostly illegal deliveries to the classier criminals.
"Ottery St. Catchpole, the Star Nightclub!" my boss barked. I wondered if she was part dog.
"Yes, ma'am!" I resisted the urge to salute as she strutted out of the room, looking like a bulldog. I picked up what Margaret was supposed to be delivering. The box was heavy. It was labeled 'Goblets, size C'. The 'c' probably meant the goblets were cursed and someone was going to be very ill when they drank from these. I didn't bother taking Margaret's checklist. It only had 'Pencil boxes' written on it, anyway.
The Star Nightclub was a small black affair in downtown Ottery St. Catchpole. At a glance it looked a bit like an abandoned apartment building. A red neon star was hung over the door, which was guarded by a surly bouncer with a ridiculous mustache. I ignored this and went around to the back door. I left the box in a shaded spot next to the dumpster and knocked on the back door. A man with a smile that was far too large and far too white opened it. He smelt of whiskey and sweat. I tried not to grimace.
"Delivery," I said. "Goblets, size C."
"You're not Margo," he responded in a rough voice. "Is she sick?" I shrugged.
"I don't know. Goblets are next to the door." I turned and walked away. I didn't care what this man's relationship with Margaret was. She must be his drug dealer.
I didn't have anything else to do, so I wandered the little wizarding town. It was a rather nice town, if a bit shabby. The buildings downtown were spaced wide enough apart that there were several alleys. The streets were lit well enough that I could see the alleyways led to other streets and weren't dead ends.
The bookshop Vera had mentioned was closed. It was, for lack of a better word, cute. Green shutters were closed over the windows. The clean glass door had a paisley curtain drawn over it so I couldn't see the interior. A sign with the word 'Closed' written on it in large, square handwriting hung from the gold doorknob. The large 'Cozy's' sign on the storefront was made in that same meticulous handwriting. The whole place seemed to sparkle, as if the store itself were happy.
Ridiculous. I walked past it without a second glance.
The downtown streets were fairly crowded for a town this small. People talked and laughed in groups, shopping or eating or simply wandering around as I was. The town was like a chicken coop, everyone squawking and crowing.
Suddenly the crowd seemed to thin. A sign informed me I had walked to the residential area. Here the streets were darker, lit only by the occasional street lamp. A few people were scattered here and there, talking in hushed tones to each other or the walls.
Street art abounded as well. People had signed their names everywhere in bright colors. I stopped to look at a wall decorated with spray paint people. The people on the walls were dressed in gaudy costumes or nothing at all. I saw paintings dancing, laughing, talking and thousands of other things. This wasn't ordinary Muggle graffiti, though. The pictures moved. A painting of a woman in a top hat danced first with a man in a ballgown, then a silhouette with devil horns, and then an angel with a sad face. She noticed me watching her and smiled at me. Her teeth were bright red.
"You lookin' for something?" A male voice rasped beside me. I drew my wand and turned to face the voice. He was a man slightly shorter than me, with long stringy hair and a thick brown beard. The man wore a long brown coat, patched and faded pants and boots with a hole in one toe. His eyes were clouded and his teeth rotting. The man drew his own wand.
"That depends on what you're offering," I said. I'm armed. What harm can come to me by talking to this man?
He leered at me and opened his coat to reveal a large array of powders, packets and potion bottles. "I got everything you could want, boy. Snargaluff powder, Laughter Draught, Alice in Wonderland Cake, you name it and I can get it to you. I got Muggle stuff too, if that's your thing." He looked up at me, his beard glistening in the faint lamplight. "You look like you need relaxing. If you've got the Galleons, I've got the cure."
What in the hell is Alice in Wonderland Cake, anyway? I lit my wand and examined his wares. A small potion bottle glistened from one side of his coat. The man saw me examining it.
"Oh, you're interested in the Devil's Dance," he said and held up the bottle. The
dark contents swished eerily. "That's odd. You don't seem the type."
"Tell me more about it and then I'll tell you if I'm the type," I replied. He leered wider.
"It's like dancing with the Devil. One swig of this-you drink it-and you're dancing. You don't give a damn about anything. You go out of control and when you come to, it's like you know who you are, like everything's clear at last. When you're on this stuff…woo! You've got hot coals on your feet and you just want to keep moving. See her?" He pointed to the dancing woman on the wall, who was now spinning rapidly, pulling the man with devil horns and the angel along with her. "She's on it. She was made when a guy was high on this stuff and wanted to paint. He also did the one over there, the hat with all that rainbow stuff coming out of it. You see all sorts of crazy things on Devil."
I don't really think I want to be out of control. "Sounds good. But you're right, I'm not the type." I said. Plus, that woman looks insane.
"I knew it. But I've got something for you, since you're not the type for Devil." He yanked out a small cake. "Alice. They use this in hospitals, to help people calm down when the Calming Draughts aren't doing it. They used to add stuff to it to make it like Skelegrow, but this is just the calmer. Eat a little of this and your head clears. You don't feel much and you know everything. It's like being Albert Einstein, you know?"
No, I don't know what it's like to be Albert Einstein. Nor do I want to. "No, not today, thanks." I put out my wand and walked away. He didn't follow me.
I went to a friendlier feeling part of town, where the art didn't move and there were more people and better lighting again. I looked at the art, which covered the walls almost entirely. Another helpful sign told me this was the art space where anyone could paint on the walls. A particular wall caught my eye. It was covered in large paintings of people who did not move. The colors here were brighter and no one had red teeth in these paintings.
A woman in a cloak was looking at the wall, as well. She was short and thin. I could see she was wearing ballet flats and jeans under the cloak. I moved along the wall closer to her. The art here was stunning. I focused on a particular piece depicting a face, ignoring the witch next to me. The face was a close up of a young woman with short black hair, a nose piercing and an expression that probably could have killed a small animal. Vanessa Parkinson.
I recognized the woman with a sudden clarity. It made sense that she would be depicted here, considering she worked at the Café Du Locke. It was obviously not a self-portrait. Vanessa would have painted herself from farther away, and she certainly wouldn't have included the poem written next to her right cheek. The poem read:
Enemies in reality
Lovers in their dreams
She is not who she was
He is not who he seems.
I couldn't help but smile at the poem. It sounded like a prophecy or something Looney Lovegood would say.
For some reason, I suddenly became acutely aware of the woman next to me. I looked at her sidelong. Her hood put her face mostly in shadow. She had fair skin and full lips, which were parted slightly. Curly brown hair fell around her shoulders. She stood with her weight on her toes, leaning forward unconsciously as if to get closer to the art on the wall.
Wait. Curly brown hair? Is it-no, it can't be. There must be dozens of short, curly haired witches in this town. But what did Vera say? Assume all short, curly haired witches are Granger. I've got to see if it really is her. I'll act like it's not her, perhaps. If I catch her off guard she's less likely to hit me again.
"Hello, beautiful," I said. Why did I say that? I sound terrible!
She muttered something to herself before she responded. Her voice was pitched low and smooth as silk. I blinked. That can't be her.
I made small talk with the witch, slowly becoming sure it wasn't Granger. She turned towards me slowly and smiled. She muttered something again.
"I'm waiting for you to recognize me, of course," she said in a different voice. A voice spell! That little…no. I've got to be civil to her. My mouth was moving, but I had no clue what I was saying anymore. Perhaps if I act like I knew it was her? Here goes nothing…
"Granger," I said simply. Wow, very clever, Draco. Really, really witty! I silently quashed my snarky inner voice and moved my hand away from her shoulder.
"What," she said coldly, putting down her hood, "are you doing here?"
"Er…" I trailed off. "My job brings me here. And the wall." I pointed to the art wall behind her. "Why are you here?" I attempted to sneer and regain my dignity. Judging by her amused smile, it wasn't working.
"I live here." She folded her arms over her chest.
"Here, in this little ugly town? Why would you want to live here?" I kept my voice inflectionless. I knew I had said the wrong thing when she flushed nearly purple and narrowed her eyes.
"I happen to like it here. No one is making you stay, Malfoy. If you don't like my town, get the hell out of it, yes?" Her voice was quiet and calm. It was the tone my mother used right before she cursed something or broke the furniture.
"Ah, no, no. That's not what I meant-"
She cut me off. "Well, what did you mean?" This Mudblood is pushing me too far. I clenched my fists. Operation Granger Heartbreak, remember? You have got to calm down.
I forced my face into a smirk. "Perhaps if you let me finish a sentence, you would find out?" She went through a kaleidoscope of colors, from her angry purple to red, then to pink, white, and back to pink. She looked embarrassed and angry now. "What I meant, was that last time I saw you, you were in Boston, which is a perfectly nice town and I was simply wondering why you were back in England." I took a deep breath and focused on the wall behind her, about a foot above her head. Please, let her believe that. Please, please, please…
"Well, if you must know I've moved back here for a brief period before visiting my grandmother in Bulgaria," she said, her tone slightly warmer. I breathed out in relief.
"And what exactly is your job?" She asked, narrowing her eyes again.
"I," I replied as normally as I could under her frightening glare, "am an International Apparation Specialist."
"Ooh, the ferret's got a fancy title," she sneered. I winced a little bit.
"You wound me, madam," I said in a theatrical voice, clutching at my heart. "I can feel the world fading around me…tell my mother I love her…" I closed my eyes and slumped against the wall as if I had died. Unable to resist, I opened one eye to look at the witch. She was obviously trying not to laugh.
"You bruise too easily, Malfoy," she said when she had regained control of herself. "Has anyone ever told you that? Legitimately, you bruise and break so easily, like a china doll."
She looks more like a china doll than I do, I thought from my slumped position. I stood back up. "Should I take that as a complement?" I asked, smirking again.
"No, you should take it as a medical diagnostic," she said, flashing me a brilliant smile that had none of the beaver like qualities I remembered. "Speaking as a Healer, you are a fragile person and should avoid bumping into me." She folded her arms over her chest again, but didn't seem quite so angry this time.
I laughed coolly. Things are going well? Already? Damn, Vera is good! "I suppose that's good advice," I said. She smiled again. Don't drag this meeting out, Draco. Play like you haven't got time for her at first. I pulled back the sleeve of my coat a little and checked my watch.
"Oh, shit. I've got to go-duty calls," I said. She looked slightly relieved. I guess things aren't going as well as I thought. I moved a few feet back from her and turned on the spot into oblivion.
Hermione
After he left, I looked at the art for a bit longer and then walked home. I fell instantly to sleep that night, but my dreams were once again plagued with Malfoy.
There's new art on the wall. A tortured looking blonde boy with a sharp angular face stares in massive proportions next to the intense looking girl with black hair. Though none of the other art moves, his longish hair blows back from his face. He holds up his left arm for my inspection. On it, instead of the Dark Mark I know should be there, a line from a poem is written.
'He is not who he seems.'
I look from his arm back to his face. He winks at me, turns and walks away down a long passage that appears behind him on the wall. At the end of the passage is a black door of the sort they had in the Department of Mysteries in the Ministry of Magic. He stops just in front of it and turns back to face me again. He beckons for me to follow him. Without thought I step through the wall and into the damp, dripping passage. He opens the door for me and steps back so I can see what lies beyond.
Behind the door is my bedroom, with me sitting up in the bed, looking out at Malfoy and myself. She does not seem to see me. Her eyes brighten at the sight of Malfoy as he steps forward towards the door. He smirks at me and steps through, closing the door behind him with another wink. The slam of the door echoes unnaturally.
I woke up to the sound of someone knocking on my door. It was a slow knock, one rap every few seconds. I recognized the sound of that knock. Still in my nightgown I picked up my wand and made my way to the door, yawning and stretching as I went.
When I opened the door, Luna stood there in Muggle clothing. She was wearing gray corduroys and a blue long sleeve shirt with a rainbow arcing across it. Something about her appearance still looked off. Maybe it was the way her eyes seemed to be at the same time glazed over and intensely staring into my soul. Maybe it was the fact that she was oddly awake for so early in the morning. Or maybe it was just because she was wearing her radish earrings.
"Good morning, 'Mione," she said vaguely. "Have I woken you?"
"Oh, it's no trouble. Please, come in," I replied, yawning again and moving aside to let her through the door. A painful sense of déjà vu hits me from the dream I just had.
"You look like you've been dreaming again," Luna commented, stepping inside and looking me over. "What have you been dreaming about?" I wasn't surprised by her frank questions about my dreams. Luna tended to be honest to the point of it being embarrassing. I had gotten used to it over the years. I shut the door and went to sit down on the couch. She sat next to me, just a little too close.
"Malfoy," I said, grimacing. "The damned ferret keeps getting into my dreams. It's disturbing." Luna gave me a smile that insinuated something I didn't want to think about.
"Would you like to tell me about the dream?" She asked, knowing I'd say yes. Despite her oddness, Luna was the best person to talk to when you had odd dreams. Or, for that matter, when you needed dirigible plums.
"Let me get dressed and make coffee first, then I'll tell you," I said. She nodded happily. "Would you like anything while I'm in the kitchen?"
"Oh, no thank you," she replied, beaming innocently, all the innuendo of a moment ago gone.
I dressed myself in a pair of black leggings and a white button down and quickly tied back my hair, not bothering to brush it. I hurried into the kitchen and made coffee, letting the familiar smell calm the last jangle of nerves from my dream. When the coffee was ready I rejoined Luna in the living room.
Sipping my coffee, I told Luna about the dream and the odd meeting with Malfoy in town. Her eyes got wider and wider as I spoke. When I finished I looked at her, waiting for her verdict on my dream. She thought for a moment, took a deep breath and began to talk in a slow, flowing chain of words.
"The graffiti in the dream probably just refers to the art you were looking at yesterday," she said. " Seeing art in your dreams can also be a projection of subconscious desire or creative urges. You saw Malfoy, so some part of you was thinking about him.
"The fact that he had that poem on his arm gives me cause to think your expectations of him aren't matching the reality, although I'm not sure why. The lack of the Dark Mark just means you are attempting to suppress memories of the war, which is also normal. People with tragic memories often suppress them and see representations of that in dreams. It could theoretically also mean you don't associate Malfoy with evil anymore." She paused and took another breath.
"You associate the door with the Ministry of Magic, and it's not uncommon to dream of old experiences and new ones at the same time. Doors can also indicate a feeling of responsibility towards something.
"The tunnel indicates you are looking into the future and seeing something you subconsciously abhor or desire. When I have dreams like that I see Crumple Horned Snorkacks. It could also show a desire to move forward from the place where you are or were.
"Malfoy's presence in the dream baffles me a bit. Him just being there briefly would tell me you were recalling an experience in which you met him." Luna looked at me suspiciously. "But he was a main factor of the dream. The door having your bedroom behind it would normally just be a representation of you suppressing bad memories, but your bedroom was again darkened and you were in the room. You saw yourself in your dream.
"Some wizards think this has to do with time travel in dreams, and the ability to move forward in time to see a future. It might just be the same thing as the tunnel; you're projecting a desire to move forward. The bedroom being darkened in this context would suggest you-or at least the version of you in the bedroom- associate the darkened room with waiting for something. Your position on the bed, expectantly sitting and looking outwards, emphasizes this. Agatha Reverie, a famous Seer, believed that seeing yourself looking back at you meant you were waiting for some version of yourself, which reinforces the representation of the tunnel.
"But you said your dream self didn't seem to see you, which means she-you-are waiting for something else. You were alone in the room, which gives the idea you need human contact of a different sort than you're used to. The most common interpretation of that is that you want or need to be loved by someone else.
"Malfoy stepping into the room here would fulfill that desire, but he slammed the door. Slamming doors in dreams are not good things. They usually represent a feeling of isolation and guilt. Isolation-that reinforces the idea that you desire human contact on some level, which Malfoy fulfilled in the dream. But you were left out of the activity that fulfilled this need, and while a dream with Malfoy and two of you would be messed up enough, this is just baffling. You are of two minds here, I think. You want contact and love, but you are also guilty and confused.
"If it had been Ron in the dream perhaps it would have made sense, but you two broke up a little while after the war. You want someone else, but you don't want to leave behind your memory of Ron and the war, you still feel an obligation to them. That reinforces the door idea.
"You also don't know quite what you want here, because the tunnel leading towards your future was dripping and damp. Damp places mean uncertainty, nothing is dry or concrete. At any point it could all flood and the dream could go away. You want something more, something new, but options for who can give that feeling of love to you are limited.
"While some people turn to studies and career to solve this, you have been doing that your whole life. Though you don't like Malfoy, your subconscious has labeled him as the nearest available male. So not only are you subconsciously desiring what Malfoy can give you-" She smiled insinuatingly again-"but you also have guilt about it. I suggest you fuck him now and be done with." Luna finished calmly. I gaped open mouthed at her.
Luna Lovegood just told me to fuck someone. Luna Lovegood just…! My prudish mind was a disorganized mess. How can she say that?
Well, maybe she's right, said my rarely heard libido, speaking up for the first time in years.
No, no she is not! I do NOT want to have sex with that ferret!
Are you sure? Asked my libido, smirking at me and waggling its eyebrows.
Yes, I'm sure! I replied to myself forcefully.
You're sure you want to fuck him? My libido leered at me from inside my head and I felt myself flush.
No, no, no! How…why…what…AH! Luna was looking calmly at me.
"It's quite normal, you know. Most girls have wanted to have sex with Draco Malfoy at some point," she said vaguely. What exactly is she implying? A disturbing image popped into my head. Ugh, no, I did NOT need to see that, said the more normal part of my mind.
Luna and Malfoy, sitting in a tree, K-I-S-S-I-N-G! My libido crowed, tangoing across my head with my imagination.
Shut. Up. NOW. I told myself. Get yourself together.
Oh, at least ask her, my libido begged.
No!
It would be easy, just say 'Luna, did YOU ever want to fuck Draco Malfoy?' She'll answer honestly, you know her! My libido waggled its eyebrows again.
No. Go away. Go bother someone else. I told it.
I'm YOUR sex drive, honey, get used to me 'cause I ain't leaving! My libido put its hands on its waist and grinned at me. You'll like me soon enough, I promise. You'll need me later. It did a cartwheel and wiggled its hips at me.
"Are you arguing with yourself?" Luna asked me, interrupting my libido's antics.
"How did you know that?" I asked in return, shocked at her intimate knowledge of my head.
"Oh, it happened to me when Ginny was talking about Harry last year. I suspect there are Wrackspurts around, they like emotionally charged situations," she said calmly.
"Yeah…"I trailed off, distracted by my train of thought. My libido was now replaying the dream in slow motion, lingering on Malfoy's face.
Go away. I don't want to have sex with Draco Malfoy, and that's FINAL! I nearly yelled it out loud, so strong was the force of the command. My libido took after me though, and it wouldn't go away.
Oh no it's no-oo-o-ot! It sang at me, linking arms with my imagination and spinning it around. It's not, not, not final! You-ou-ou-ou want to-
Shut up! I cut it off.
You want to do him like he's Arithmancy homework, and you're going to get an Outstanding! I nearly giggled at my brain's odd way of saying things.
"'Mione?" Luna asked quietly. "I realize you're locked in combat with some part of your brain-I suspect your libido-but Ginny and Harry are back, remember? We're going to meet them at the café for late breakfast?" My libido paused in its singing at this.
"Oh, yes. Let's go, shall we?" I said. We stood and left the house. My libido had thankfully gone back to its state of silence. Luna, however, was very talkative. She rambled on about gurdyroots and Nargles and dirigible plums, and Harry and Ginny and then something about my dreams, and back to gurdyroots.
Audrey was working at the café when we arrived. She waved to me with her Fred-and-George grin, and then went back to making coffee for the line of customers waiting in the shop. The place was less crowded than it was during the afternoon, but it was still buzzing with the chatter of people talking, drinking and reading the Daily Prophet.
Luna and I found Harry and Ginny at a table in the corner, close to one of the large windows.
"Hello, Harry, hello, Ginny," Luna said dreamily to them.
"Hello," I said. We both sat down across from them.
"Hi," they said almost in unison. Ginny beamed brightly at me. Her freckled cheeks were rosy. Harry's green eyes were lit up like a fireworks display. They had something to tell us.
"We have something to tell you," Ginny said.
Harry nervously gulped some coffee. Clearly, whatever they were going to tell us was big. Ginny was so excited she practically had sparks coming off her.
"Something big," Harry added. His hair looked even messier than usual. Ginny looked like she was about to burst with excitement. She opened her mouth and then looked at Harry. He smiled at her. She beamed back. Ginny really was radiant when she was happy. She almost looked like a Veela. Harry opened his mouth to say something. His arm tensed and I knew he was gripping Ginny's hand under the table.
"Well, spit it out," I said encouragingly. "What have you got to tell us?"
Ginny smiled at Harry. Harry smiled back. Ginny slowly lifted her left hand from under the table, dramatically presenting her ring.
Her ring? They're…no, they aren't. They are! They're getting married!
"We're getting married!" She squeaked. Harry smiled broadly and kissed her on the cheek; he looked like the happiest man alive.
I felt a strange pang of loneliness in my chest. Meanwhile Luna was bouncing up and down in her chair, nearly as excited as the other two. I pinned my face into a smile.
"That's great!" I exclaimed.
"Amazing! You know, I'd be happy to provide Snargaluff pods for the wedding. They keep away evil intentions," Luna added. Ginny giggled a little despite herself.
"We're going to have the wedding outdoors," she started.
"On the beach near Shell Cottage," Harry added.
"And we'd like you two to be bridesmaids!" Ginny squeaked. This habit of finishing each other's sentences is going to get annoying fast.
"Sure!" I said, beaming a bit wider.
"Of course!" Luna agreed.
"Excellent," Harry and Ginny said together. Ginny continued speaking in a rapid flurry.
"We're inviting everyone we can think of, and you two are welcome to bring a guest. We're still making the invite list, so if you want to add to it later you can. We're going to have the wedding in the style Bill and Phlegm-I mean, Fleur- had theirs, with the nice tables that become a dance floor, you know?" She took an excited, gulping breath. "We're having six bridesmaids, that's Luna, Cho Chang, Padma and Parvati Patil, Angelina Johnson and Katie Bell.
What about me? I wondered silently.
"Hermione, we'd like you to be the maid of honor, if that's okay," Harry said while Ginny took another breath.
"I'd love to be the maid of honor!" I said, caught up in the wedding plans despite myself.
Ginny kept talking. "We're writing our own vows, the traditional ones are so outdated and sexist, and we've decided to dress the six bridesmaids in blue, with the maid of honor-that's you, 'Mione- in purple. You'll all be carrying a single red rose. And I think we'll have Ron as best man. Madam Malkin is doing the wedding dress and Harry's tuxedo, and we're still trying to figure out if we should use her for the bridesmaids' dresses. She is the best, but I saw the cutest blue dress in Twilfit and Tattings the other day that would look absolutely spectacular on Luna." Harry smiled a little wearily.
She overwhelms him. I do hope she doesn't run TOO wild with those wedding plans. Harry's money isn't endless. And six bridesmaid dresses from Twilfit and Tattings will certainly be expensive. I wonder who's baking the wedding cake? Knowing Ginny it'll be a really spectacular creation. A cake with at least four tiers, and the top one would have little moving figurines of Harry and Ginny…extravagant frosting and exquisite flavor too, no doubt. And I just know she's going to want to order wine or firewhiskey for everyone, and if they're really inviting everyone they can think of the bill is going to add up quickly…I was half fantasizing about the wedding and half worrying that it was impossible. Ginny had continued talking through this, of course, and Harry eventually had to stop her.
"Ginny, love, we've been here for two hours," he said quietly. She stopped talking and looked wide-eyed at him. "Not that I don't love hearing about our wedding again and again, but I do have a job to go to, and I'm sure Luna and Hermione do too, right?" He looked across the table at us with an expression that clearly meant help me! I almost laughed.
He should know how formidable Ginny is when she plans! He's been dating her for FIVE YEARS.
I checked my watch and was surprised to see I really did have a job to go to now. "Damn!" I exclaimed. "I do have a job. If you want to talk to me at the counter over there, go ahead but don't hold up the line, okay?" I stood up and went to where Audrey was making a latte for a man in a suit. Harry, Ginny and Luna waved to me and left.
"Sorry I'm late," I said to her.
"No problem!" She grinned at me. "You looked like you were enjoying yourself over there."
I took my apron off the hook on the wall. "My friends are planning their wedding." I said. "They want me to be the maid of honor." I stepped into Audrey's place and put on my best smile.
"What can I get you?" I asked the tall woman who was standing on the other side of the counter.
"Creature room," she rasped. She had a pinched face and a long nose. The combination made her look a bit like the fairy tale representation of a witch. She even had a wart.
"Can I see your ID, please?" I asked. She tossed a card over the counter at me.
Amy Alderton
Age: 34
Species: Hag it read. I looked it over for any flaws.
"Granted," I said. A black door with a glowing white handle appeared in the wall. The woman opened it and I got a brief glimpse of a dark room filled with hags, centaurs and all types of other creatures. She shut the door behind her with a slam.
Next an older man with a scar running down one side of his face stepped up.
"Caramel mocha with extra sugar," he said in a Scottish accent. I smiled at him and he smiled back, the expression stretching his scar into an odd shape.
"Coming right up!" I said. I hummed a fast tune while I made the coffee. "That's two Sickles," I said and handed him the drink. He gave me three.
"One for yourself," he whispered conspiratorially to me. The man walked out with a limping step. I saw that one of his legs ended in a metal rod.
The rest of the afternoon passed in this way. I loved to talk to the customers. I recognized a few by name from the day before. The coffee flowed and the people were happy. I did not think about my dream for the rest of that day.
When I made it home I checked my phone messages. There was one from Ron, who yelled into the phone that he wanted to know how America had been. Ron had never properly learned how to use a telephone, and I suspected Harry had helped him dial the number.
The next message was from Luna. She told me that if I had any more dreams I should come straight to her for a cup of tea and a dream reading. Then she mentioned something about freshwater Plimpies that I didn't quite understand.
The third and final message was from my mother. She wanted me to call her back and tell her all about America and 'my friends these days'. After dinner I call her back first.
"Mum?" I asked when the phone finished ringing.
"Hermione!" She said. "How are you? Did America treat you nicely? Did you meet any boys there?" I could picture her sitting at the scratched up kitchen table, stirring her cup of tea and reading a romance novel, the phone cupped between her ear and her shoulder like she always did when I lived with them.
"I'm fine, America was lovely, and I haven't met anyone," I replied. "What about you? Are you and Dad okay?"
"Oh, we're just fine. Getting old in peace. He's taken to watching baseball lately. How are your friends?" My mum had absolutely adored Harry, Ginny and Luna when I had taken them to visit her the year before.
"They're great, actually. Guess what?" I moved the phone to my other ear.
"What, pumpkin?" She used the nickname she had given me when I crawled inside a large jack-o-lantern when I was three.
"Harry and Ginny are getting married!" She squeaked in excitement on the other end of the phone.
"Oh, how wonderful!" She said.
"I'm going to be the maid of honor," I added. "And Ginny planned the wedding to us for two hours today. I don't think she's been this excited since the Holyhead Harpies won the World Cup!"
My mum laughed at the unfamiliar words. She didn't know much about Quidditch, but liked to talk about it. When Harry and Ginny visited her she had been incredibly enthusiastic about the sport. "That's lovely, dear. Are you going to bring a date to the wedding?"
I rolled my eyes. "Mummy!"
"What? Are you?" I pictured her leaning forward in her seat at the table as if I were sitting across from her.
"No, Mum. I'm not dating anyone, remember?" I replied.
"Oh…"She sounded disappointed. "What about that Ronald Weasley? Weren't you two together?"
"No, Mummy. We were, but we aren't," I said. "I'm not really looking to date right now."
"Okay, sweetheart. Do what makes you happy," she said.
"Tell Dad I said hi," I said. "Love you."
"I love you too, pumpkin. And, Hermione?" It sounded like she was wrinkling her brow.
"Yes, Mum?" I asked.
"Do what makes you happy, okay?"
"I will, Mummy. Bye bye," I said.
"Goodbye, pumpkin," My mother hung up first the way she always had.
Do what makes you happy? I wondered to myself. What does that mean?
It means you should do Draco Malfoy! My libido spoke up again.
You again? What do you want?
Exactly what you want, honey. I want what makes you happy! It purred at me.
I think your idea of happiness is a bit different than mine.
I AM you, girl. Unless there's some serious split personality going on here, I have the same intentions as you. Except I've prioritized them differently. It seemed to be in a calmer mood now.
Calmer mood? Would you like me to do…THIS? It grabbed my imagination and started dancing around with it again. I winced at the mental images it was evoking.
"My God, I need help," I said out loud. "Maybe I should just go to bed." I forcibly shut down my brain, changed into my pajamas and went to sleep. That night I dream in sound.
I'm standing by the art wall. Music is playing.
Everybody, everybody wants to love.
Malfoy slumps against it and falls straight through. He becomes the painting as before.
Everybody, everybody wants to be loved.
Malfoy holds his arm out for me to see. On it is the Dark Mark.
Happy is the heart that still feels pain.
Malfoy cradles his arm to his chest and blinks back tears of pain.
Darkness drains and light will come again.
He pulls his arm away and holds it up again. Now the line from the poem is written on it. 'He is not who he seems'. Instead of walking down the tunnel again, he reaches out of the wall and pulls me in with him.
I feel suddenly dizzy. I become aware I can't feel my heart beat anymore. I fall to the ground. My eyes are still open and I can see everything.
He holds up my heart, still beating. With his other hand he takes out a knife and carves his name into it. Then he holds it out to me, but I cannot reach to take it.
Swing open up your chest and let it in.
My arms can move again, and I tear open my chest, exposing my empty ribcage. He puts the heart in and zips me up again as if I were a sweatshirt. I stand up and take a deep breath, grateful for the air.
Oh, everybody know the love.
He holds out his hand and I take it. He takes my other hand and we dance, completely off tempo to the music. His hands feel cold, as if he is dead.
Everybody hold the love.
He spins me in a slow circle and pulls me close to him. I can feel his heart beating. Then I push away and he spins me again.
"This is a dream, you know," he says over the music.
"I know," I reply. "This wouldn't happen in real life."
"Wouldn't it?" He narrows his eyes. "It could."
"Us dancing in a tunnel inside a wall? Somehow I doubt it," I say. His grasp on me tightens.
"Perhaps," he says, "you only need the first word of that."
"Us." I say.
"Together." He replies.
Everybody folds for love.
"That's not possible, is it?" I ask.
"Anything is possible, didn't Looney Lovegood tell you that?" He smirks.
"That's not the truth!" I exclaim.
"Granger, I just put your heart back in your chest. I think the standards of possibility have been sort of turned on their head." I can't think of something to counter that.
"This is odd music to be dancing to. It could slow down some," I say to fill the silence.
"Don't change the subject, Granger," he says. "The music could stop altogether and it wouldn't matter. What matters is that we're here. Together in your dreams."
"Does that matter?" I ask.
"Yes," he says simply.
"But it's a dream. It won't happen again, that's not possible!"
"It is possible."
"Isn't!" I exclaim like a child.
"Is," he replies calmly.
The song ends and we stop dancing. I feel oddly apprehensive. Something is about to happen. And it does.
Without a word, or any drastic movement, I realize I am holding Malfoy's heart in one hand and a knife in the other. Instead of lying on the ground the way I was, he is standing calmly against the wall. He seems incapable of sound or movement. I know what I have to do to bring him back. Slowly, carefully, I carve my name into the heart. Wordlessly he opens his chest. Instead of ripping, he opens himself like a double door. It reminds me of a robot movie I saw once. I place his heart inside his chest and close him. I don't feel disturbed at all.
He comes back to life with a shudder and takes a deep, gasping breath.
"Granger." He says simply.
"Malfoy." I reply.
I woke up in the early hours of the morning with a pain in my chest. A light rain pattered against my window and reminds me of waking up this way when I lived in my parents' house. The first thing I was tempted to do was call Luna right away and tell her about my dream. The second thing I was tempted to do was scream.
I have 'Draco Malfoy' literally in my heart. I have…dear God, these dreams are getting disturbing. I need therapy. I need help. I need a hot cup of coffee to sort this out.
As I made my coffee and tried to wake up, only one thing ran through my head, over and over again.
Us.
Together.
Wow. Sorry that took so long. Hopefully the next one will be faster.
-Kat