Chapter 1
Hi. I guess this is a thing now. Fanfiction. I read a lot of it, so… figured I’d try. If anyone has suggestions, feel free to throw them my way. Probably won’t get much traffic, being my first post and all. :)
All credit to Rowling, obviously. She built this world, and honestly, she deserves all the praise.
Chapter 1
~ Draco’s POV ~
I turned my head, just enough to see her.
She was asleep, curled tight like a little animal. Arms wrapped around her knees, long brown hair tangled on the pillow. Her face… peaceful. Too peaceful. I reached out, lightly tracing the curve of her cheek. She nuzzled into my touch, and a smile tugged at my lips. She made me feel… whole. Like I belonged. A feeling I hadn’t known existed. I pressed my lips to her forehead, a whisper of a kiss, and murmured, “I love you.” Then I turned my head and rested it on the pillow beside her, letting the calm seep into my bones.
Then I woke up. The warmth faded, replaced by that familiar ache. Just a dream. Always just a dream. The same one, every night. I remembered fragments – a sense of comfort, a feeling of belonging, and a face… a face I couldn’t quite grasp. The ache was always the same.
I’d been having this dream since the letter arrived, the one ordering me back to Hogwarts for another year. I couldn’t remember details, just the feeling. A feeling I didn’t deserve.
Then, it hit me. The face I’d been holding so gently in my dream… Hermione Granger.
What the hell was going on?
I didn’t know how to feel about this. Was this a good thing, or a bad thing? My family would probably murder me if they found out. I couldn’t control my dreams, could I? I didn’t like Granger in *that* way, did I? No. I obviously didn’t. She was a… a mudblood. The word tasted like ash in my mouth. I shivered, remembering the memory of Bellatrix torturing her last year. The brand seared into her arm. I’d sworn to myself never to use that word again. Her screams still echoed in my ears, especially when I was alone in the Manor.
I pushed the thought away. Looked at the clock: 5:03 am. Today was it. Back to Hogwarts. They were redoing the last year, apparently. McGonagall thought it would be best, give everyone who missed the last one a chance, and for those who *were* there to actually learn something without Carrows breathing down their necks. I wanted to go. I needed to get my N.E.W.T.s, prove I wasn’t a Death Eater anymore. I needed a future.
I wanted to show them the real me. Not the arrogant brat my father molded. I wanted people to like me. Pansy and Blaise only stuck around because of my father’s influence. They probably played their part. This year would be different. I’d keep my head down, let them see I’d changed. I needed to show them I was ashamed of what I’d done.
I didn’t like having too much time to think. It always made things worse. I got out of bed, showered, dressed. Breakfast was brought to me by a house elf. Afterward, I wandered into the library. It was colossal, mountains of books winding through the room. I’d forgotten how amazing it was. “Hermione would be in her element here,” I thought. Wait. That was the second time today I’d thought of her. These dreams were messing with my head. And I’d called her Hermione, even in my thoughts. What was happening? I shoved the thoughts away. Grabbed a book and started reading.
Before I knew it, it was 10:30. I checked my trunk, making sure everything was packed. I found my mother in an armchair, watching the embers die in the fireplace. How long had she been sitting there? I knocked on the door and stepped inside. She jumped, startled by my arrival.
“I’m about to leave. Thought I’d say goodbye,” I said.
“Okay,” she said, her voice still a little dazed. She looked up at me. I held her gaze.
“Be careful. Promise you’ll write.”
“Every week,” I said, trying to sound sincere.
She seemed satisfied and pulled me into a hug. “I’m sorry,” she whispered, “for letting your father control you. I was weak, scared. I should have protected you.” A tear rolled down her face.
“I know.” The anger I’d held onto for years melted away. “You know how persuasive he can be.”
She flinched. “I love you, Draco.”
“I love you too.” I turned and apparated to a shadowy corner of King’s Cross station.