Disclaimer: Nope, I'm not J.K. Rowling, I don't own Harry Potter or anything except the plot

Lucius towered over him, a slow grin spreading across his face as Draco sunk to the ground, terrified of what plans his father had for him. The taller man raised his wand.

"You're weak, Draco, so very weak. You need to be taught a lesson," he sneered and the boy cowered, curling himself up into a ball on the rough wooden floorboards, desperately wishing for a saviour. A sudden image of Hermione flashed before his eyes and he almost cried as he thought how he'd never see her again, never tell her how he felt.

Hermione clapped her hands in delight as she watched Harry soar over the trees on his broom with Ron hot on his tail. They were truly fantastic, and she had the show all to herself as she was the only one who stood by Hagrid's hut, watching the boys as they flew effortlessly over the Forbidden Forest and around the lake. Ron had just completed a successful dive when she felt a tendril of terror reach out and grasp her heart. The boys above her seemed just fine; they flew around without a care in the world but as the feeling increased, filling her body she couldn't help but know that something was terribly, terribly wrong. She turned from the boys and instead of seeing the looming castle she found a small, shabby-looking house in its place. An image suddenly flashed before her eyes and a scream echoed through her. But it wasn't her scream. It was the scream of Draco Malfoy. She began to run as thousands of emotions welled up inside her, spurring her on as she seemed to know that if she couldn't find the boy and stop his suffering, she would go down with him.

Draco whimpered, trying to shrink away from his father, dissolve into the floorboards, do anything to get away but Lucius just continued to point the wand and move ever closer.

"Crucio," the man whispered and a jet of light surrounded Draco, torturing him with excruciating pain. He felt himself being thrown around as the pain grew stronger and he cried out, screamed for all he was worth while all the while, the feelings increased.

"Expelliarmus!" a voice, a wonderfully familiar voice, cried suddenly and the pain stopped. He turned his head and there, in the doorway of the grey room stood none other than his love, Hermione Granger. "Stupify! Petrificus Totalus!"

Lucius fell to the ground, stupefied and bound.

Draco's body ached but he found the strength to drag himself towards Hermione who hesitantly moved to him. She knelt down beside him and wiped the sweat from his cheeks with her cool hands as he gazed up at her, somewhat shocked.

"Why am I helping you?" she whispered, more to herself than anyone else as she smoothed back his white-blond hair from his trembling forehead.

"Please don't hate me anymore?" Draco replied with a question of his own, easing himself up so that he sat cross-legged in front of her.

"I don't hate you, I don't think. You've always been the one that's hated me. You call me Mudblood," she frowned at him and seemed to move away slightly, her hand coming to rest on her knee.

"I'm sorry," he said and he meant it with all of his heart. Hermione's eyes seemed to brighten and all traces of hatred were gone, leaving only something that he liked to think was love.

"But this is just a dream, isn't it? It's just a dream."

Draco tentatively reached out and embraced the girl who had saved him and held her close until he felt her own arms close around his neck and her head bury itself in his chest.

"If it is just a dream," he said, stroking back her hair, "then I never want to wake up."

Draco opened his eyes in the darkness and groaned. He'd never wanted the dream to end, never wanted Hermione to leave him, but now he was energized with no chance of going back to sleep. With a sigh, he rolled out of bed and pulled a jumper on over his pajamas then snuck out of the Slytherin common room into the silent corridor leading from the dungeons.

It was about two o'clock, he decided; nobody would be awake for a log time so he made for the kitchens, planning on making himself some tea. The castle seemed oddly deserted at night and every creak made him spin as images of his father in the dream came back to him. Trying to wash that pale face from his mind as he neared the kitchen, Draco thought of Hermione and her beautiful, if rather curly, long, brown hair, her deep brown eyes that seemed to hold and comfort him and her voice, that warm voice that seemed to save him in his thoughts and dreams every time. Tickling the green pear on the portrait covering the doorway, he stepped into the kitchen and headed to the small kettle in the corner that seemed to already be boiling. Taking a mug and a teabag from a stack in a nearby cupboard, Draco made himself some strong black tea and perched himself on a stool at one of the huge tables that spread across the length of the room which was, he knew, directly below the Great Hall. It was rather amazing, the happening of the castle, he thought, wrapping his hands around the warm mug and breathing in the warm tea smell. He briefly wondered why Peeves the poltergeist hadn't been hanging around the dungeons when he'd made his escape to the kitchens when a small noise brought his attention to the portrait that was swinging open for the second time that night.