Truth or Dare (Dramione Fanfiction)

Chapter One - The Letter

Dramione Fanfic! :) 

Happy reading, and enjoy! xx

-Cass.

P.S. Dedicated to @HeyyItzAri 

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Chapter One – The Letter

Hermione Granger woke up with trickled sweat crawling down her face, her breath following along the rhythm of the clock, tick, tock, tick, tock. She fleetly placed her hand above her chest, feeling her body move up and down, and then touched her pillow, realising it was damp from the night. She had been sweating with fear the whole night. Turning to look at the time, she realised it wasn’t nearly time for breakfast, and covered her face with her blanket so the other’s couldn’t hear her soft sobs.

She never understood what the dream meant; there was always the same image of her friends, Harry Potter and Ron Weasley, falling down the bottomless hole, crying for help. It’s never happened before in real life, but somehow it appeared in almost every one of Hermione’s dreams, every one of them the same. Harry and Ron would cry for help, asking for everything back (whatever that meant), and ask Hermione if she would save them, but every time Hermione stayed still, not knowing a way to help her friends. She thought of all the books she had read, thinking back of any possible spell that would work and save them, but she barely knew what was happening, rather less than any possible spell Gilderoy Lockhart has once casted to protect himself. And as much as she knew his books weren’t too ethical, she tried and tried for the whole night to think of the right spell, until she woke up.

And every morning, she had to assure herself that Ron and Harry were safe, by waiting at the bottom of the stairs to the boy’s dormitory, creating an excuse of why she was there, instead of the real reason. Hermione knew she could trust her best friends, but some things she had to keep to herself. Harry was going through enough, anyway, with his own dreams of Lord Voldemort.

She descended from the girl’s dormitories, cleaned her face, and fought the urge to climb up the stairs and check for herself if her friends were there, safe and sound. It was too risky, and Hermione didn’t want to risk anymore trouble, after stealing from Professor Snape’s room, the Potion’s Master, to boil the Polyjuice Potion in her second year, sneaking around the castle numerous times under Harry’s invisibility cloak, and many more troubles she had once caused that she was very disappointed of. Remarkably, Hermione sat down on one of the squashy armchairs in the common room, and opened, Quintessence: a Quest. It was a great book to pass time with, even if she had already read it ten times, not counting the times she flipped through it during Charms, when Professor Flitwick assigned work that she had already finished beforehand.

Yet, even reading couldn’t put the dream out of Hermione’s head. She never understood what that dream meant, and she couldn’t possibly tell Professor Dumbledore, the Headmaster of Hogwarts, or anybody for that matter about that dream. It would be embarrassing, and out of hand. And it wasn’t like it was similar to Harry’s dreams, about Lord Voldemort, and wasn’t nearly as important. But Hermione was worried, and frightened, if someday that would happen to Harry and Ron, even if she knew it was rubbish and couldn’t possibly come true. She was only messing with her own head, and hopefully one day the dream would be gone.

By the time Hermione finished the book (without paying the least attention); Harry and Ron had come down from their dormitory, bidding Hermione a good morning. Hermione, who was so pleased to see them, jumped up from the arm chair and hugged them both, causing Ron to choke half way through his yawn, and Harry’s glasses to fall right off his nose.

“You OK, Hermione?” asked Ron, laughing as Neville Longbottom, a fellow Gryffindor in the same year as the three of them, stepped on Harry’s glasses. Neville, who’s face had bursted red, bent down and swifted a dozen of apologies at Harry, which Harry had forgiven easily, because with a swift of his wand muttering, “Reparo”, his glasses had mended back together, and in seconds was back on Harry’s nose. Neville was flooded with relief and was shaking on his way out of the Gryffindor common room, muttering to himself.