Chapter Eleven

Draco

Sometimes when I'm alone, I like to write letters. Letters that the recipients will never read. Letters that are for the sole purpose of my own enlightenment. In them, I confide my feelings, things that I could never say to the people face-to-face. Even without sending them, these letters help ease my mind. The imaginary recipients vary. Some are written to my parents, some are written to my old friends. I have even written a couple to Dumbledore. But now, most are written to Hermione.

They're kept in the bottom left drawer of the desk in Hermione's and my common room, which is where I am now. It's very dark, for it is midnight. The only light in the room is being emitted from the fire in the fireplace. I should be tired, and in a way I am, but my recent nightmares have induced a sort of fear of sleep. Therefore, I reach into the top drawer of the desk and retrieve a piece of parchment and a quill. I place the parchment on the desk's surface and the quill in my hand and, with a deep breath, I begin to write.

It felt good to get allof that off of my chest. Perhaps someday I will actually send this to her; she needs to understand. But for now, I fold it up, and it joins the others in the bottom left drawer.

Now I am undeniably tired. I stand up and stretch out my arms. The grandfather clock by the fireplace says that it is 1:30 in the morning, which makes my eyelids feel even heavier. I have to sleep. I cannot dodge the dreams any longer. On the back of the couch, there is a blanket. I pull it off and bundle up in it. Once I close my eyes, it's hard to open them again, so I finally succumb to sleep.

* * *

My feet lead me down the concrete path. The only sound that breaks the eerie silence is the steady rush of water that resonates from a fountain in the distance. It's unusually dark, even for this late at night. Drops of dew glisten on the grass, adding just a touch of beauty to this unsettling atmosphere.

The huge house looms over me. Only the outline is visible, for it is the same color as the sky. There are no lights in the windows, and the gate before me seems to be locked. But as I approach it, the lock instantly disappears, and the gate pushes itself open.

My heart skips a beat as I realize where I am. I don't want to be here. I don't to be here. I swore to myself that I would never return to Malfoy Manor. However, my feet continue to carry me against my will.

When I reach the grand set of double doors, they automatically open, just as the gate did. They reveal an ornate foyer, painted completely in black with silver accents. A diamond chandelier dangles from the ceiling. I walk towards the large staircase that leads upstairs.

As I venture through the hallways, memories of my childhood flood my mind. I remember running to my father with joy when I thought I was a Parselmouth just because I was almost bitten by a snake in the yard.

The door to my old bedroom is ajar, and I step inside. It is hardly recognizable. It has been stripped bare, leaving only a small nightstand by the window. But I suddenly remember a picture that I drew when I was very young that has been hidden underneath a faulty floorboard for years. I bend down and pull up the board and, sure enough, there is an old, rugged piece of parchment. I pick it up.

What is on the inside hits me like a blow to the chest. There are three people- my father, mother and I- standing in front of our house. I look like I was intended to be the age I am now. My father smiles down upon me, and my mother does the same, patting me on the back. The poorly drawn version of me is holding up his sleeve, revealing a- also poorly drawn- Dark Mark. I suppose I never had the virtue of childhood innocence, as this picture shows. All I ever wanted to do was please my parents. I wanted to be just like them.

Shuddering, I place the drawing back under the floorboard and leave the room, shutting the door behind me. The hallway seems darker now than it was just a few minutes ago. The speed of my heartbeat increases. It's very cold in my old house, as it always has been. Somewhere in the house, it seems, I hear a voice. I follow the sound of it.

There are still family portraits in the hallways, but none of just me, although there used to be a ton of those. At the end of this hallway, I see a small figure: a house elf. It's not Dobby- my aunt killed him what seems like ages ago. This one is larger and particularly rough-looking. He must be new. He runs off at the sight of me.

"Draco," I hear someone whisper, and I swiftly turn around, but no one's there. "Draco Lucius Malfoy." I look around madly for the voice, but there seems to be no one around.

"What? Who are you? are you?" I ask, standing still. Suddenly, I feel a quick but extreme chill, like falling into an almost frozen lake but being pulled out immediately. It was a ghost. He hovers in front of me, looking me up and down.

"So you're finally here. I'll alert the crew. Let the... ... begin." He says in a soft yet rough voice before he glides away, softly cackling. Am I expected to follow him? For a mere few seconds I do until he floats through a wall.

I hear someone cry, but it is not the ghost. The voice is obviously scared. I can't distinguish who it is. I take off down the hall at a run.

The first room I come to is empty, with the exception of a few books and a small chair. After checking every corner to assure that the person is not in there, I slam the door shut, moving on to the next one. This one has a fireplace, in which a fire is burning, but there is nothing else in my particular interest.

It is in the third room that I come across something. There is a giant armoire blocking one of the windows. The knob of it is shaking as if someone is trying to get out. This must be where the person is.

"Hold on, I'm coming, just give me a second-" I say, fiddling with the knob, which seems to be locked. Finally, after using all of my strength, I manage to open the door, and someone comes stumbling out.

"Hermione!" She meanders across the room, obviously unable to keep her balance. With a sigh, she collapses into a heap on the floor. My heart stops. I bend down beside her, and I realize that she's barely breathing. The room begins to spin.

"Hermione! Wake up!" I shout, my voice cracking. Her eyes flutter open.

"I'm not the one that's asleep."

* * *

"Draco!"

I hastily sit up, breathing hard. Hermione looms over me with a look of deep concern in her eyes. The common room slowly comes into focus. She pulls me into a hug. I can feel the beating of her heart, which soothes mine.

"Draco, this has to stop. You can't keep living like this." She says, still hugging me.

"Hermione." Just her name calms me down. My breathing begins to slow.

"I'll go to Madam Pomfrey with you to get a dreamless sleep potion, okay? Here," She hands me a shirt, "put this on." I pull the blanket off and stand up, grabbing the shirt.

"Don't look at me," I joke.

In about a minute, I've put the shirt on, along with my robes over it. Hermione gets up and walks over to the desk, treading her fingertips along the surface. With a start, I realize that the bottom left drawer, where I keep my letters, is slightly ajar, and there is a piece of parchment protruding from it. Trying to look nonchalant, I rush over to it and shut it with my foot.

"What was that about?" Hermione asks. Needless to say, I failed at being nonchalant.

"I don't know. Let's go." I say, and in the blink of an eye, we're holding hands for the first time. I glance down at her, smirking, and I see that she's smiling. We exit the room.

It's been a week and a half since we were in Hogsmeade, and since then, Hermione hasn't asked me anything about my dream or the person I saw at the window in Madam Puddifoot's, thank goodness. But now I want to tell her. She is the only person I can confide in.

"They're about home," I say suddenly, and she looks up at me, confused.

"What?" She asks.

"The dreams," I clarify, "They're about me going home." She purses her lips.

"Oh... Draco, where do you live now?" She inquires.

"In an apartment near King's Cross Station. Alone, of course," I explain, and she nods. "Oh, by the way, what time is it?"

"I'm not sure, but you missed Defense Against the Dark Arts. That's why I came to check on you."

"I bet Aberforth was infuriated," I sigh, "But thank you for coming to get me."

"No problem." She replies, and I open the door to the Hospital Wing for her.

"Hello?" She calls, looking around. A frazzled-looking Madam Pomfrey emerges from her office, holding a clipboard in her hands.

"Yes, dear?"

"Can Draco have a vial of the dreamless sleep potion? He's been having quite an ordeal with nightmares." Madam Pomfrey nods and scurries into the medicinal storage room. Hermione gives me a small, sweet smile.

And suddenly, I'm quite aware of the fact that we haven't kissed since the day on the Quidditch pitch. But now, in front of Madam Pomfrey, would be quite an inopportune time.

"Here you go, Mr. Malfoy," The nurse says, handing me a small vial of violet liquid. I thank her and put the potion in the pocket of my robes. Hermione and I exit. When the doors to the infirmary are closed, I turn towards her.

"My next class Potions," I say. Hers is Ancient Runes, so we have to go the opposite way. "I'll see you later, okay?"  I suddenly kiss her, and the same feeling that covered me the first time returns.

"Bye, Draco," She says with a grin that I return. She turns and walks away.

"I love you," I whisper as I watch her leave, barely audible so that she can't hear me. I head to class myself.