Chapter One The Dream The room was warm and humid, and the moment was golden. The couch was set and the fire was lit. The only thing missing was Hermione. Malfoy sat with his arms outstretched across the sofas back and his eyes half shut, also with his legs crossed. The accommodations wallpaper was maroon and so was the fluffy, tepid carpet. Hermione’s taking too long thought Malfoy, lounging across the settee, holding his skinny head upon his tired, steady hand. The blonde haired boy let out a yawn, but kept his position practical. “Malfoy, I’ll be there in a minute” called a voice. The tone was soft and affectionate, never before had he heard such passion in a line. A content grin spread across his face and he sat up and into his original, scene. Satisfied as he was at that moment, he knew it was about to get better. His brushed his hand along the white, button-up school shirt he was wearing, and placed it behind his head, along with his second hand. A crash came of a cupboard shutting, and a sigh emerged from the silence of the kitchen behind him. Draco’s head perked up, as thuds from the carpet came, and a cold hand stroked his cheek. He shut his eyes peacefully, as creaks from the sofa sounded; he re-opened his eyes and peered to his left. Hermione was lounging across him, her hands on his lap and chest. “Did I take too long, Draco?” Hermione asked, her eyes fluttering carelessly. Hermione and him stared into each other’s eyes tenderly and he caressed her cheek. “We have all the time in the world, Hermione…” he answered, smiling lovingly. He had never really noticed before, but her eyes were a calm, playful hazel, and her hair wasn’t just bushy and untidy; she’d done something to it, maybe it was the moment, but her hair had a glimmering shine to it. “D’you think we’re wasting our time?” Hermione asked, looking down doubtfully. Why had she said that? There had to have been a good reason. “Why do you say that?” Said Malfoy, he straightened up, and placed his left leg beneath his right and held her hand. He stared into her eyes once again, trying to talk some common sense into her. She was smart, but now she wasn’t. Perhaps she was just smart in class? I doubt that, Draco thought, a grin crossing his soft, temperate face. “I – I’m just being silly. I’m not my usual self …” she forced a smile and let out a short laugh. “Never mind me” The two moved closer; now serious expressions on their faces. She leant onto his chest and placed her warm arms around his neck. It tickled him a little, but he chose to ignore it. Nothing could ruin it now. Still staring deeply and lovingly into each other’s eyes, they came closer and closer, until they came so close. Hermione cocked her head slowly to the right, and lifted up, finishing in a slow, affectionate kiss. The fire seemed to glow magnificently and forcefully. The room appeared as if it were spinning. Their eyes were both shut, and the kiss was set lasting for five minutes; Draco flowed his fingers through Hermione’s hair quickly as the brown eyed Gryffindor massaged Malfoy’s neck. The kiss ended. They both separated slowly. Staring into her eyes. He smiled and stroked her, from her cheek to her soft, silky hair. “Draco! Draco!” Draco woke. His eyes widened as he glanced about the room. “Draco!” The Slytherin shot his head forwards towards the front of the classroom. Students were beamed at him in a sneering way. “Yes professor?” Draco answered. Professor McGonagall was his least favourite teacher at Hogwarts, and no doubt he’d receive detention for sleeping in class times. But there was something that made Malfoy freeze, the fact his dream involved Granger, That filthy little Mudblood. “No sleeping in my class – detention” That line seemed to echo through his ears as a splitting headache shot into his left temple. He shot one last glance around the room across to the far corner, and there, was Potter, Weasley and Granger, the inseparable trio. At that moment, an endless pit seemed to drop in his stomach and he felt as if a knife had struck his heart. Granger. He breathed in deeply, trying to forget the dream. It didn’t mean anything, it was just a dream. But the more he scalded himself about not having the dream the more he thought. “Now, Mr Malfoy, stay behind. I have some extra homework for you at the end of the lesson” Professor McGonagall said. Malfoy shot her a dark look, before the bell rang, signalling end of school time. The blonde haired Slytherin watched, in yearning as Hermione left the room, not even to turn around, not even to talk. She just strolled away, silently. It wasn’t Granger in my dream …it was my imagination. The Granger in my imagination! Like a filthy mudblood like her could compare to the dream last night. If that was true, she’d of had the same dream – it didn’t mean a thing… Malfoy assumed, flicking his hand nervously. I’ll deal with detention first – then I’ll get some well merited sleep. And hopefully … I won’t have the same, ludicrous dream again… “Mr Malfoy. How many times has it been now?” the head of Gryffindor announced, with her round, shining spectacles hanging off the brim of her furrowed nose. Her eyes were sharp and her lips were tight. If he had to describe McGonagall in one word, he’d say ‘Stern’. “I’ve never slept in class Professor. You must have gotten mixed up with someone else” Draco answered. He hesitated for a short moment, then whispered, “Like all the time” “What was that last bit Mr Malfoy? I assure you, if you cannot sort out your outgoing attitude young man, I will get in touch with your father, and I will take necessary precautions” She struck Malfoy’s nervous system. He knew very well that his father, Luscious Malfoy, may well recompense his was out of this mess, but there was no further need to go on with the row. The teacher laid a piece of parchment on the desk Draco sat at. He looked down disgusted and back up with a sorry face. Oh, what have I got to do now? Paint a picture? “I want you to write out five-hundred times, why students – especially you – should listen in class” “I’ve already told you professor. I was listening!” Draco protested, banging his fist firm down on the table. Of course he regretted it afterwards: with what, an additional freight of lectures on his shoulders, but with an awful pain in the side of his hand. “Do NOT raise your voice at me like that, Mr Malfoy. Do you want another shipment of homework?” She asked, with her usual strict, harsh tone. “No Professor” “I advise you keep your voice down then” Professor McGonagall whispered in a calmer accent. She turned on her heal and returned to her desk. “You may leave, now” Draco immediately snatched up the parchment he’d received, and ambled out of the classroom. When in the corridor, he ran up, forgetting the cold murky passageway. Forgetting the feeling off someone watching him. He stopped dead, shut his eyes tiredly and rested against the wall. The blonde haired boy could hear whispers from far away and clattering footsteps echoing. His head buzzed, and the earth spun, like if he was dizzy. Malfoy dropped his books and parchment, the ink shattered on the floor, he neither jumped nor cared. He sighed. “I wonder if Granger, did have the same dream”
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