✖He's Not Mine [An Utterly Ridiculous Dramione Baby Story . . . Sort-of]

FIFTEEN

OVER NIGHTMARES WE BOND

As she shook herself from her sleep, Hermione noticed the sound of rain. Perhaps the thunder had woken Tobias. There wasn't a second sound, so she silently crept out of her room and into the nursery. The everburning candle stood on the nightstand away from the curtains and the crib, casting a warm orange glow over the room. Tobias was fast asleep.

Hermione shrugged and trudged out of the nursery, half closing the door behind her.

"Is he okay?"

Hermione jumped slightly. She turned to the fireplace to find her blond dorm-mate on the couch. He was watching the fire.

"He's fine. I thought the thunder might've woken him. I heard a . . ." She trailed off, unsure what to say.

"No, that was me."

Hermione slowly approached the couch and sat down on the other side. Draco smiled at her. "You don't have to sit so far away. I don't bite, you know."

"For all I know, you probably do," Hermione mumbled under her breath, but she relaxed a little anyway.

Draco's smile became a smirk. "Oh, I do, but only in certain situations."

Instead of flushing, like Draco had expected, Hermione only smirked back. "Oh? And what kind of situations are we thinking of?"

"Uhhh . . ." He was stunned. Never in his wildest imagination did he expect Hermione to tolerate the flirting, let alone flirt back.

"What's wrong, Malfoy? Cat got your tongue?"

Draco grinned. "Not really. She's more of a lion than a cat."

Crookshanks chose that moment to exit Hermione's room and purr loudly as he sat between the two students.

"Actually," Hermione said, "Crookshanks is more of a 'he'."

"Oh, shut up, Granger."

Hermione smiled as Draco turned to glare at the fire. His glare lasted about a second before it and every other expression fell away from his face.

"Do you want to talk about it?" Hermione asked, tucking her feet under her as she turned to face Draco, one hand supporting her head and the other absently rubbing Crookshanks' head.

Draco glanced at her. "Would you talk about yours?"

Hermione was slightly surprised.

"I hear you too, you know," Draco told the fire. "Late at night, when you've finally gone to sleep. I do wonder what you dream about. The horrors you've seen . . . or the deaths you've witnessed."

Hermione kept her mouth shut. She understood Draco's point. If she didn't want to talk about her nightmares, she had no right to coerce him into talking about his.

"Perhaps you dream about the war . . ." He turned to stare at Hermione. Grey orbs locked with brown pools. "Or is it something worse?"

Hermione still didn't say anything. She had stopped running her fingers through the orange fur.

"What could be worse than reliving death?"

Draco didn't look away, Hermione didn't speak. It seemed that both had frozen, still as statues.

"I dream about death," Draco told her. "Not my own, no. That would be peaceful, I think. I dream about the death of my mother. Very often, it is my mother. She dies a different way every night. Sometimes she lives, and I am forced to watch Pansy die. Sometimes it's Blaise. They all die by the same hand, though. I dream that we -- you didn't win. I dream that he reigns. And he kills my mother for siding with Potter -- albeit indirectly. He kills Pansy for her newfound love for half-bloods, muggleborns and muggles alike. He kills Blaise for befriending Harry."

Draco paused for a moment and Hermione took it all in. He'd said muggleborns, not mudbloods. He'd called Harry by his name. But one thing that struck her so very hard, was that he didn't consider himself to be a part of those who fought against Voldemort.

"Not even an hour ago, I dreamt about you and Tobias. It's so very strange how dreams can make so little sense, events out of order, yet still be realistic enough to cause screaming in one's sleep. I told you I dream that he still lived. Well, I dreamt he found out how much I cared for Tobias. He found him with you. You did your best to protect him, you really did. You stood your ground and you fought vigorously. If you're even half as good as you are in my nightmares, then I must admit that I'm very impressed. But, as nightmares go, you failed. You died protecting him. He brought Tobias before me and frozen to the spot by spells and chains and a sort of paralyzing fear, I watched helplessly as he killed my baby boy. It's strange, isn't it? How dreams can have such a draining effect on a person."

Draco smiled, but it was a smile filled with grief. Hermione couldn't help but notice his referral to the baby boy in the nursery as his baby boy. Still, the Slytherin did not look away. Hermione ran her fingers through Crookshanks' fur.

"I dream about death," she said softly. "I dream about you, about Pansy, about Blaise, Lavender, Tobias. I dream about losing all of you. I dream about being helpless as I watch the life leave your eyes. I watch as you fight, as you do your best to survive. I watch as one by one, you all leave me behind. It is strange, how a few nightmares show you that you care more that you're willing to admit about people you thought you hated. Before I returned, I would dream about Harry, Ron, Ginny, Fred, Luna, Neville, everyone I considered my family. I never thought I would see the day where your death hurt me so badly. I never thought the day would come where I would cry in my sleep as I watched the life leave Pansy's eyes. And never in my life did I ever think I would care so much for someone who used to use his position as a teacher to bully me. Yes, dreams are strange. They put things into a perspective you've never thought about before."

Draco watched Hermione carefully, waiting for her to continue. She didn't disappoint.

"Two nights ago, I thought I had finally been rewarded with a good dream. I was wrong. In what I thought would be a lovely dream, I was having a nice lunch together. I saw Ginny, Lavender, Pansy and Luna. I think Hannah Abbot was there too, and Angelina Johnson, Katie Bell, Fleur, oh, and two others I think. There were children playing -- too many to count. Then, as most dreams do, it changed. We stood on Platform nine-and-three-quarters. A countable number of children stood around us. I assume they were all getting on the train for the first time. A set of twins, a girl and a boy, with brown hair that glinted red in the right light with sparkling blue eyes. A slightly chubby little girl with dark blonde hair and light brown eyes. Twin boys with pale blonde hair and twinkling blue eyes. A girl with almost white hair and piercing gray eyes. A girl with black hair and light brown eyes. A girl with red hair and green eyes. We watched them carefully, but we felt carefree."

Hermione paused, remembering the blissful yet short-lived feeling. Draco watched her and waited.

"But then, as nightmares do, the happines and joy all ended. My ears were filled with terrified screams. Everyone scrambled. Protect the children. Our first instinct. As my nightmares always do, I was left to survive. To see everyone's dead bodies around me. To know that they had all died, but not me. I woke screaming in terror at the image. I close my eyes sometimes and I still see the horrid picture. Blood pooling, young and lifeless eyes, the once marble floor stained with blood . . . it's all very strange, how dreams can show you just what it is you truly care about."

Crookshanks suddenly flew off the couch and Hermione's hand fell limp on the cushion.

Draco took her hand in his. "I can promise you that I won't die, but only if you promise the same."

"What?"

"I never thought the day would come when I would care for you, for Harry, for the Weasel and his sister, the way I care for Blaise and Pansy. But it has come and I've learned to care about you."

"I understand. You know I share the sentiment."

Draco grinned. "So . . . do we have a deal?"

Hermione squeezed Dracos hand as she smiled. "Yes, we have a deal."