Dreams and a Plot for Power

Monday, September 7, 1998

Hermione rubbed her lower back in irritation. She didn't know why they even called them broom closets. They were mostly filled with old school books, empty vials, and Petri dishes. You know, all the breakable items they didn't want lying around. And the one they had just occupied was more of a room than a closet, considering its large size and the fact that it had a small, cluttered table.

So in the broom closet, that mostly lacked its namesake, Hermione gave in. It was the least she could do considering she had ignored him the night before. So it was probably karma, or maybe just really bad luck, that in the middle of their heated tryst she'd found the sole broom the room contained. It had poked into her flesh as they had exchanged violent kisses. She hadn't had time to move to a more comfortable position, so she had endured the agitating object as they continued attacking each others clothes.

He had hurriedly ushered a charm and hadn't even bothered with foreplay or getting her "ready". This time hadn't been about her at all. It was about him. He'd taken out all his pent up anger on her. She could tell by the way he ravaged her, holding her tightly, and slamming into her roughly. A few times he had even bitten her hard enough that she was sure he'd broken the skin. She didn't resist it, though. She let him. She knew it was what he needed. He didn't want to talk about his father, at least not to her. She could understand that. It wasn't like they were "friends." But even if they were, she doubted that he told his Slytherin buddies about his problems. It was just part of him being a Malfoy. Keep your problems and emotions to yourself, or something like that.

So instead of talking to him about it, she let him show her how angry he was by the use of her body. She let him spill his emotions out in the form of hot, angry kisses and rough, bruising shagging. It didn't really hurt like she expected it would. It was actually kind of sadistically exciting to her, the twinge of pain and pleasure at the same time. When it was over, and they had regained their composure, she was sort of sorry it had to end. She liked him taking so much control.

They had proven that they could do this with no strings attached. But there had been a moment, somewhere between his teeth sinking into her neck and her sighing his name, that she felt they had some other kind of connection. Though she really couldn't be sure.

Godric she was bloody mental.

There must be something completely fucked up in her head. To think she enjoyed having this kind of vile relationship with Malfoy, it was crazy, but it worked. Somehow, it worked.

She heard someone call her name as she made her way down the hall.

"Hermione?"

Oh, great.

"I thought you were out in the courtyard?"

She turned, making eye contact with the redhead. "Who told you that, Ronald?"

"Luna did-" He was giving her a curious look, his head cocked to the side and his mouth slightly open. "'Mione, did I just see you come out of a broom closet?"

Her heart fluttered. Had he seen Malfoy exit before her? "Luna was mistaken and...Yes, what of it?"

"What bloody business do you have in a broom closet?"

"Inventory..." She noticed that he was looking way to hard at the place where her jaw met her neck. Maybe there was a mark..."Professor Flitwick wanted me to do it yesterday but I forgot." She said hastily, lacing her fingers around her wand and trying desperately to perform a silent illusion charm on her neck.

"Inventory?" He asked suspiciously, stepping closer to her. "Of what? Brooms?"

"There's actually a shortage of brooms in there, to be honest." She retorted, backing up and placing her hand on her neck as he advanced. "But let's not get carried away with talk of brooms." She waved a dismissive hand in front of her face. "You said you were you looking for me?"

His face lost its suspicious frown and he nodded. "Yes, I wanted to talk to you about earlier."

She inwardly cringed. "What about it?"

He placed a hand on her shoulder. Somehow it felt different than all the other times he touched her. "I want to stop fighting with you.I hate it, Hermione. I hate us like this."

"I hate it too, Ron." She admitted, still confused as to why she found his hand intrusive.

"Then let's stop, ok?"

"Are you going to stop being a twit?" She asked a little more harshly than she'd intended. She kind of just wanted to be away from him. Her body was aching and her head was spinning from all of the day's events.

He gave her his goofy half smile. The one that she used to do anything to see. "Maybe?"

"Alright, well, I've got things to do...so I'll see you later, Ron."

"Yeah, see you, Hermione." He said, giving her a nod before walking back the way he came.

Draco laid across the bed, his hands cradling his head as they rested on two propped up pillows. He stretched his long legs out and crossed his ankles over each other. He actually felt good right now. Calm. Satisfied.

All the anger he had been feeling had lifted the moment he made a mess of that broom closet or was it, Granger, he made a mess of? Who cared? His anger had dissipated for the moment, which was a good thing. His knuckles didn't need another cut in them.

He wondered what Granger was doing. Probably covering the love bites he'd given her. There had been a lot more than usual. He'd been unnecessarily rough this time, pounding into her like a crazed madman, but she didn't seem to mind. Which was good. It meant she could take it.

Blaise opened the door slowly, peeking his head in before coming inside. "I'm surprised you're looking so well." He said. "I thought I'd come back to find the room in shambles again."

Draco smiled. "Yes, well that was a possibility, but then something came up."

Blaise grinned. "I'm going to assume your good mood is because you fixed things with Granger then?"

Draco turned his head to the side to look at him. "When exactly did you-?"

"Really mate?" Did he have the attention span of a goldfish?

"You really do know then, about Granger and I? I figured you didn't believe me when I told you I hadn't been with her."

"Yeah," He thought they had that established already. "I thought you knew, seeing as how we talked about it last night." He grinned. " But then again, you were pretty fucked up...."

'Hah, hah. Very funny." Draco mocked. "Joking aside." His face turned serious. "Don't tell anyone about her."

"As if you even needed to tell me that." Blaise scoffed. "I'm not mental. I wouldn't do anything that would put you, or her, in danger of being found out, not with your father walking around free somewhere."

Sometimes Blaise really surprised him. How could anyone be such a good friend to such a stuck up jerk like himself? "You must be crazy."

"Huh?"

"For putting up with my shit all the time, I mean."

"Well someone has to." He shrugged.

Draco knew that was a bloody lie. Blaise wouldn't be friends with him if he didn't want to. "I know this is going to sound weird..."

"What could you possibly say that would weird me out?"

Draco smiled. "Thank you."

Blaise's face was blank for a moment before his cheeks puffed out and a stifled laugh escaped his lips.

"Told you." Draco quipped with a smirk.

"Sorry...sorry.." He laughed. "You were right...so weird..."

"I know, right?"

"You really don't say that often, do you?"

Draco thought for a moment. The only people he ever thanked sincerely were his mother, his Quidditch captain third year, Blaise, and...Granger. "No, I don't."

"Then I'll count myself lucky."

Draco didn't think being friends with him was very lucky, but he was grateful that he, at least, had someone like Blaise on his side. If he didn't...well he was afraid of what may have happened to him last night.

Hermione shut her book with an exasperated whine. She just couldn't focus on her studies tonight. Every time she turned a page or wrote down a note he would barge into her mind, disrupting her thoughts.

Even though they had worked out their "problem" by hooking up, that hurt expression he'd given her at breakfast still bothered her. He had looked so...pained.

Yes. That was a good word to describe the cold expression in his eyes that morning.

Well, before he had resorted to anger and set a newspaper on fire, that is. She guessed she sort of had a minor breakthrough with him. He hadn't hurt her like she initially thought he would, but he did ignore the situation by turning it into a snog fest. She kind of wished that he'd talk to her. She knew she probably ruined her chances of him opening up to her by ignoring him last night, but how was she supposed to know his psycho father was out? Was she supposed to read the gits mind?

Ok. So that was a flimsy excuse, but that's all she had.

She closed her eyes and rested her head on the table. She wanted to talk to him. Not just the flirty banter they'd been sharing as of late, but really talk to him. It didn't even have to be about his father. It could be about anything, bloody fairies for all she cared, she just wanted him to acknowledge her as someone he could trust.

Maybe that was too much to ask given the context of their relationship, but if he would let her in a bit then maybe she could get over this sick feeling in her stomach.

She was obviously thinking about him way more than she should, so she got up, grabbed her book and headed for her dorm. It had been a long day. She didn't want to think about Malfoy or school anymore. She was going to bed.

Tuesday, September 8, 1998

The sound of rain hitting the rooftop echoed throughout the room. She traced the small raindrops as they slid down the window with her finger. It was cold, and kind of lonely waiting here. But she knew he'd be here soon. He never left her here for long.

She heard the telltale crack of someone apparating in the next room and jumped to her feet.

She met him halfway between the dining room and the hallway. He was wearing that fitting, black coattail cloak, complete with his green scarf and gray fedora hat. He smiled when she rushed into his arms, hugging him tightly. "What took you so long?"

"I've been....busy."

"I've been waiting."

"I know." He whispered, letting go of her. "I'm sorry..."

"Well, no need to be sorry, you're here now." She smiled, feeling the warmth building in her gut.

"Only for a moment...." The way he shifted his eyes to the floor made her heart skip a beat.

"Why?"

"I had to come to see you....at least once more..." The rain had stopped and he opened the door, letting the cold breeze flow into the room.

She shivered as the cold draft left goosebumps on her arms. "Once more?" She cocked her head as she watched him lean against the doorframe.

He nodded solemnly. "I had to see this place...see you again...."

"What the bloody hell are you going on about?"

He didn't answer her, instead, he made his way into the front lawn, taking a deep, steady breath.

She followed him, shutting the door behind her, leaving them both in darkness. "Draco?"

His eyes looked across the darkened yard. "I'm leaving....Hermione."

She was confused. "Where are you going?"

His gaze shifted back to hers and he unwrapped the scarf from around his neck. "Far enough away that you won't get hurt."

She suddenly felt very angry. "I'm not scared."

He kissed her forehead before wrapping the green scarf around her shoulders. "No, but I am..." He rubbed her cheek with the backside of his finger. "I can't lose you."

"You won't." She insisted, looking into his silver eyes.

"I just can't take that chance." He replied, stroking her hair and giving her the saddest smile she'd ever seen come from him.

"Draco..."

He let go of her, taking a few step backward before retreating into the darkness.

"Stop! Come back!" She screamed following him.

"Goodbye Hermione..." his voice faded as he moved farther away from her. "...you."

"Wait! Draco, don't leave! Wait!" She called out, her hand reaching for his. But just when their hands made contact he shattered into a million tiny pieces and scattered into the wind, leaving her alone in the darkness with nothing but his scarf around her neck.

She bolted upright, her chest heavy and her eyes brimming with tears.

What in Godric's name was that?

Never before had she had such a vivid dream, and she couldn't make heads or tails of it. Why was she so sad, and more importantly, what the hell did it mean?

She chalked it up to her over active imagination and tried to go back to sleep. There was no way that dreams pertained to real life. She wasn't in some house and Draco wasn't leaving, and even if he did it wouldn't bother her at all. She didn't have any attachments or feelings, not for Malfoy. No. She would never feel like that for Malfoy. Or that's what she told herself as she tried to ignore the lingering effects of the dream: the cold on her skin and the loneliness his absence left in her bones.

Blaise awoke to the all too familiar sound of sheets rustling and quiet groans. He rolled over and tried to ignore the sounds coming from his dorm mate. Normally he'd fall right back asleep, but tonight was different. Because tonight, he didn't just groan and toss about on the bed. No. Tonight, Draco was talking in his sleep.

"Please....father, Don't make me do it," The eighteen year old's voice shook. Blaise got up slowly. Should he wake his friend up or not? "I'm sorry....I'm so sorry....I have to."

He wondered who he was talking to, then immediately thought better of it. There were some things he didn't want to know. He already knew that Draco had killed people. He didn't want to know the gory details. He swung his legs over the side of the bed letting his feet hit the cold floor.

He could hear Draco shift again, his voice becoming more panicked. "Oh gods, please....forgive me."

"Draco?" Whispered Blaise, making his way to his friend's bed. "Wake up mate."

Draco made no indication of doing so. He fisted the blanket in his hand and muttered something incoherent. Theo roused in the next bed, sitting up and giving Blaise a questioning look. "What-."

Baise put a finger to his lips and shushed him. Draco was muttering again, so he leaned over him, lowering his head near the pale boy's mouth. What he heard shocked him.

"I'm sorry....Hermione...please...don't hate me...."

Was he dreaming about Granger? Man, he must be getting way too attached to the girl. What the hell was wrong with him?

"No...I can't...Stop Father! Stop...please! "He reached out to shake his shoulder but before he could make contact Draco sprang up, his hands wrapping around Blaise's throat. "Stop!" He cried though his eyes were still closed.

Blaise grabbed the hands enclosing his throat and tried yanking them off, but his friend was insanely strong. He couldn't breathe. Theo sprang up and helped Blaise pry the hands from his neck. "Wake up man! Wake up!" He yelled, grabbing Draco's shoulders and shaking them violently.

They both watched as the boy's eyes opened and his hands withdrew, a look of total horror on his pale and sweaty face. "Blaise? Theo?"

Blaise backed away from him, rubbing the sore spot on his throat. "What the flying fuck was that?"

"I'm...I'm sorry, Blaise. I was having a nightmare." He said, running his hand over his face. "I didn't mean to..."

"You're scaring me, mate," Blaise replied. "What the bloody hell is going on with you?"

"Nothing....I just...I have nightmares...sometimes they're worse than others..." Draco looked up at him. "It's not like I can control them....I can't stop them..."

"So," Theo piped up, "Is that the reason why you drink all the time?"

He shifted his gaze away from his observant friend. "Among other things."

Blaise sighed. He'd never say anything about Granger while Theo was awake. "Maybe you should, I dunno, see someone?"

"Why? So they can tell me I'm mental and give me some potions, make me talk to some bloody shrink? I'd rather swallow pixie powder."

Theo sighed and made his way to the bathroom.

"Maybe if you see Madam Pomfrey, you could get some sleeping draught and get some good sleep, and not try to choke the life out of your best friend."

".....I'm sorry."

"Stop!" Blaise snapped. "Just stop saying your sorry. It's all I've heard out of you for the last half an hour."

He looked over at him, confusion crossing his face. "What are you going on about?"

"You were talking in your sleep mate."

"What did I say?" He asked with interest.

"You muttered I'm sorry a lot. It sounded like you were talking to your old man...and then you," He glanced at the bathroom dorm before continuing, "you said Granger's name..." Draco's face paled further if that was even remotely possible. "You don't have to be so guarded with me. You can tell me what you saw if you want...."

He shuddered. "I'd rather not."

"You sure?" He asked. "I mean, it was just a dream, like you said...so if you're concerned about Granger-"

"I'm not concerned about her."

"Alright then, if you say so."

"I do. So let's just get back to sleep...."

"Fine, Have it your way then. Let's just shove the issue aside and never talk of it again. That's really healthy."

Draco was ignoring him now. All he could hear was his quiet breathing. It kind of pissed him off, but if he knew anything about him, it was that if Draco didn't want to talk about something, it wasn't going to be talked about. Period.

Blaise would just have to be patient and wait until he wanted to talk about anything regarding his "feelings" or "Granger."

By the look of it, he'd be waiting awhile.

Wednesday, September 9, 1998

Hermione hadn't talked to Malfoy since she'd had that strange dream. Talked being the key word. It wasn't like she'd been avoiding him. In fact, she'd tried to initiate a conversation with him yesterday, but he hadn't really responded to her at first. He'd said he was busy and hurried out of the room.

She had no idea if he had been avoiding her. She would assume he wasn't. taking their quick snog in the lavatory yesterday into consideration. But it seemed like he was kind of keeping her at arms length.

Then again, wasn't that the whole bloody point? She was so full of contradictions lately. Where the hell was her head?

She didn't have time to ponder this because that's when she saw him. It was after Potions class in the courtyard. He was talking to Zabini and Nott and the sun was shining and hit his body at just the right angle that it seemed like his face was glowing. She stopped walking, stuck in her thoughts of how nice it would feel to thread her fingers through his hair.

Then he spotted her and shifted his posture. They'd locked eyes for a second but quickly turned their attention elsewhere. They knew how to play this little game by now. She hurried inside, adjusting the bag on her shoulder.

Five minutes later.

Her pocket was burning.

Thursday, September 10, 1998

Draco watched her as she took notes in Ancient Runes, her small fingers gripping her feather quill delicately. Her eyes focused on Professor Babbling's face then back at her notebook. She had no idea his eyes were focused on her. She looked so comfortable. It was as if this was where she belonged, in a classroom, learning. Perhaps it was. She was the smartest witch of their year after all.

He rested his chin in his hand. He really should talk to her more. All they'd been doing was shagging, and as awesome as that was, he kind of wanted to know what she was thinking. And maybe he wanted to tell her about his father, about his nightmares, and about how often she showed up in them. But how the hell was he supposed to bring something like that up? And even if he did, how would she react?

He heard her sigh and his worries were lost for a moment. He couldn't help but smile a bit. He loved when those lips sighed. Though he liked it better when it was caused by him licking her pretty little-

Whoa. Stop right there. Now was not the time to be thinking such things. He didn't need to be growing a tent in his pants in the middle of class. Well as long as she didn't turn those earnest eyes his way he'd be fine.

As if she read his thoughts, her head turned, her eyes finding his. She smiled and gave him a small wink before returning her attention to her notes. Even though she now knew he was watching her, she fought the urge to flirt and didn't look back the rest of class.

Draco didn't think it was very amusing. She thought she'd made a clean escape out the back door, but she was wrong. He'd captured her in the hall and they'd made a quick pit stop in his dorm room before the next class.

After a brief encounter with Draco, Hermione talked to Ron for an hour without crying or being angry with him. He had apologized, repeatedly, for the party, for Gabrielle, and what he'd said about her and Malfoy, for all he knew he was wrong. It was like he was really trying this time. Maybe he did mean it. After all, he had tracked her down in the hallway the other day. And now, she felt like she was talking to the old Ron, and it made her a little happier. She liked feeling as if she had her old friend back, that none of that ever happened, even if it was only for a little bit.

They met up with everyone in the Common Room later to play cards. Luna had somehow won most of the games much to Seamus and Ron's dismay. She spent a half an hour listening to them hound Luna about how she'd won so many times. It was quite pointless because she just kept shrugging and insisting it was luck.

Hermione had laughed a lot tonight. It felt good to laugh with her friends...it'd been so long since she had this much fun with them. She felt like maybe everything would work out after all....

Then Harry got an owl from Kingsley.

He wouldn't be returning to Hogwarts after Christmas.

Friday, September 11, 1998

Lucius Malfoy sat at his oversized desk, his black tipped quill scribbling away at the brown parchment in front of him. He'd just received word from an associate that step one of their plan was in progress. It was just a matter of time before he got to play his own part. But unfortunately, he'd have to wait until the Christmas holiday to complete the rest.

He sealed the letter when he was finished, the letters D.M. stretched out elegantly across the front. He looked at it for a moment before laying down. He would send it in the morning. That would suffice.

He took out another paper and flipped open his pocket watch, smirking as he caught a look at his reflection in its golden casting. Finally, the defined face he'd been accustomed to was back. Months of war and dark cells of Azkaban had done horrendous things to his features, but he had spent the week nursing his looks back to health.

He saw a pair of blue eyes peering at him from the corner of his eye. He sighed and flipped the watch closer, giving his full attention to his wife. "Did you need something dear?"

"No, I was just wondering what you wanted for dinner?" She replied, sweeping a loose strand of blonde hair behind her ear.

"You're cooking now?" He asked in surprise and somewhat, disgust.

"No." she replied quickly. "I was going to tell Greel to fix something." She stared at him for a moment, her lips pursed and her hands clasped together in front of her. She wanted to say something else. He could tell.

"You didn't come here to discuss dinner, Narcissa. So please, stop wasting both of our time, and get to the point of this visit."

"Have you talked to Draco since you've been back?" Her voice remained steady but her eyes showed how concerned she was.

"Of course, I have. He's my son." He was already regretting allowing her to speak. "It's my duty as his father to make sure he hasn't gotten soft while I was away." He turned back to the paper under his hand and jotted a few more words down.

"You're not planning anything, are you, Lucius?" She asked quietly. "You've only just returned from prison, and with the Dark Lord gone we can start over, lay low-"

"Malfoy's never lie low." He hissed, rising out of his chair and slamming his hands on the oak desktop. "I've cowered in the shadows long enough Narcissa."

Her eyes widened at his outburst but she continued, "Please, Lucius, please. I beg you. Don't do anything rash."

"It's amusing," He smirked. "That you think you have any sway in what I do." He rushed around the desk quickly, causing his wife to take a hurried step back, her bangs falling into her face. "But, I assure you, my dear, I have no intentions of letting all the things I worked for before he came back go to waste." He swept his wife's stray locks back in place behind her ear. "I won'tallow it."

She stared up at him. "But..."

"I almost had the ministry in the palm of my hand five years ago." He interrupted, cutting her off. "I had influence. I had a plan. Of course, The Dark Lord interrupted it, but now...well, I am starting over.

"Lucius, that was before, everything is different now. We came out the other side, it's over."

"It is not over!" He yelled, coming dangerously close to knocking the books off his desk with the back of his hand. "It will never be over until we have those filthy mudbloods and despicable bloodtraitors bowing down to us! I thought you understood these things!"

"I do, but, I made my choices. It's a different world now Lucius. It's changing."

"No! It isn't." He took a breath and ran his hand over the letter he'd received this morning. "I thought for a moment that maybe things were over, that the Wizarding World had changed too much, but I was wrong." His eyes shot back up to meet hers. "We were wrong." He slid a cold finger down her slightly rosy cheek. "There are those still willing to stand up for our beliefs, those with great strength and great skill in the Dark Arts. We can still accomplish our goals." He turned from her and strode across the room to the minibar, where he poured himself a glass of Firewhiskey. "Of course, it will take a while." He continued, taking a swig. "We have to give them fresh faces, have them work their way to the top."

"Fresh faces?"

"Yes, young wizards and witches that will infiltrate the ministry. We'll be pulling the strings of course, and it will be difficult, but we will get there. We will overtake the ministry and make them submit to us."

Narcissa took a shaky breath and tried to collect her thoughts. Her husband was acting like his old self and there was no way Lucius would act this way unless he thought there was even theslightest chance that he could win. That meant that someone else was working behind the scenes. Someone powerful. "Who..." She spoke quietly. "Who have you been talking to Lucius?"

"Someone worthy of my loyalty."