The Dream Trilogy Book Two: Tread On My Dreams (A Harry Potter FanFiction)

Chapter Forty Two

"How can people live like this!" 

Hermione raised an eyebrow at him before moving to the desk and yanking open the drawers one by one. "She doesn't live like this, she works like this. Each to their own." 

"But surely," said Draco, forgetting at that moment their pressing time constraint and splashing over to the desk. "You couldn't function like this could you, it would drive you insane." 

Hermione paused and looked up at him. "Well, no," she said, flicking her tangled hair back. "It's not how I'd keep my office. There would be far more labels. And an air freshener." 

Draco smiled, then turned to start his own hunt. He knew Hermione wouldn't have liked being in such a mess, no matter what reality. 

Hermione slammed the last drawer shut, obviously without finding anything, and gazed about. "Why?" she said. 

"Excuse me?" said Draco, looking up from his examination of a complicated pie chart on one of the boards. 

"Why did you ask that, about me and the mess?" 

Draco stopped rummaging around and looked carefully at her. "Um," he said, unsure if he'd just stepped over some unknown boundary. His heart beat a little faster just looking at her, even though she was all bedraggled. Especially because she was all bedraggled.  

"I just," he said, feeling himself go slightly hot. "Well, we're...friends in my world, and it would have surprised me if you tolerated this amount of rubbish. My Hermione would have started alphabetising everything by now." 

Hermione wrapt her fingers on the desk. "Your Hermione," she said with an air of curiosity, her eyes already scanning the next pile of papers and crisp packets. 

Draco turned away from her. She was a different person, he told himself again, pulling books off the shelf and trying his best to examine them. She didn't even look like his Hermione he reasoned, there were a number of subtle differences, like looking at twins when you really knew them. But she still spoke with her voice, still bit her lip and twisted her hands in the same way.  

"Oh!" she cried, and Draco spun on his heals to see why. The lid of a trinket box was in Hermione's hand, and from the box a purple mist was rising out. It wasn't like gas just escaping though, it floated up like a bird taking flight, then shot across the room impossibly fast and absorbed into a large coat of arms hanging between two of the calendars.  

The shield and crossed swords seemed to absorb the mist and now glittered faintly purple. Engraved on the shield were two centaurs with their front legs rearing at one another, but as the cloud settled on them they sprung to life and backed away from each other, shaking as if they were stiff. The engraving on the left suddenly looked suspicious. 

"Where is Miss Spinks?" he demanded. 

Draco and Hermione looked at each other. Draco raised an eyebrow. "We don't know," he said honestly. "But she's probably in trouble like the rest of the people round here." 

"We're looking for a secret passageway up to the entrance foyer, do you know anything about that?" 

The left centaur crossed his arms. "Maybe," he said evasively. "How do we know you haven't hurt her yourselves?" 

Draco thought he might snap. "We haven't got time-!" 

But Hermione calmly interrupted. "The Ministry has been taken over by You-Know-Who and his Death Eaters." She held her hands together. "You can go check if you like?" 

The right centaur pawed at the ground. "That's a pretty bold claim," she said. Hermione held her hand out towards the open door. 

"I said you could go check."