 Chapter 1
All was dark. I could hear water dripping, the sound echoing off the dank walls. My breathing was shallow as if I were expecting something, or someone. And then an icy hand gripped my forearm, making me scream and recoil. I didn’t really scream, though; no sound came out. There was a suffocating feeling, and I could make out the pale, pointed face of someone who looked so familiar…
“Hermione!”
I jerked awake, scaring Crookshanks from my lap. “What? What is it?” I wiped the sweat from my forehead, my heart beating at a faster rate than normal. Glancing out the Hogwarts Express window, I saw the scenery whizzing past.
From his seat beside me, Ron gave me a grim look. “Are you okay?” He offered me a chocolate frog, but I shook my head; he stuffed it into his mouth, not looking the least bit sorry that I’d refused his offer. “You looked like you were having a nightmare or something. Sort of like how Harry goes; but you looked more mental, if you ask me—“
Harry scoffed.
“Oh, shut up, Ron,” I groaned, pressing my hands against my eyes. “I’m fine.” I’m fine. Really. Or am I?
Peering at me, Harry asked, “Are you sure? You’re not getting—odd dreams, are you?”
Pursing my lips, I retorted, “Of course not.” I bit my lip. “Well… they may be a bit… dark, but that’s to be expected, with my constant worrying about what’s to happen…” A lump formed in my throat. Our seventh year at Hogwarts gave me a sense of foreboding.
Harry’s features softened. “Don’t worry now, ‘Mione.” Though his voice struggled to remain confident, I knew it was just one of his many facades.
Retreating back to my thoughts, I found that I could not rid the image of the pale face from my dream. I knew who it was. Of course, it was typical to have dreams about what one had thought about before drifting to sleep. No, I had not been thinking about Draco Malfoy in any fond way possible. I was simply racking my brain to find out what could have hindered him from killing Professor Dumbledore, where he went—
“That reminds me,” Harry declared as Ron chewed away on some Bertie Bott’s Every Flavor Beans, “Malfoy isn’t coming back to the school.” He smiled—smirked would have been the better word of the two.
“He’s not?” I blurted, leaning forward in my seat slightly. But then I slapped myself mentally. Of course he wouldn’t return, not after his attempted murder and him being a new death eater. What was I thinking?
Shooting my a wry glance, Ron inquired, “Why would you care, ‘Mione?” For once he had stopped munching.
“No reason,” I told him hastily, arranging my mouth into a line to signal that this conversation was closed. When he and Harry were not looking, I shuddered. If anything, Draco Malfoy not being at Hogwarts should have prompted an ecstatic feeling, knowing that he couldn’t reach me. Then why did the knowledge of his nonexistence turn my fingers cold as ice?
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On hiatus.
Last edited by Christian; 06-04-2007 at 03:01 AM.
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