Overture {Dramione}

The Music of the Night

Slowly, gently, night unfurls its splendor
Grasp it, sense it, tremulous and tender
Hearing is believing, music is deceiving
Hard as lightening, soft as candlelight
Dare you trust the music of the night?

"So, I'm confused."

Harry stuffed a chip into the side of his cheek and chewed slowly.

"About?" Hermione sighed, running a hand through her curls.

It had been two weeks since her dinner with Theo. She had paid a visit to Colton Fields in hopes that he would, by some miracle, open his arms and his bank account to her. He had all but laughed in her face as the bulk of his shops were outside of the UK ministries territory and therefore, the wolfsbane law had never applied to him in the first place.

The stress was eating away at her. The first full moon without the protection of the law would be in a week's time and Hermione was almost physically ill with worry. What would happen to those who now went without their potion?

She had barely slept and when she did, it was often fitful and for short periods of time.

She knew she looked a mess with frizzed curls from her tossing and turning and dark bags under her eyes.

Harry had taken one look at her and practically clawed her away from her desk and into the cafeteria for food and caffeine, which was much appreciated by Hermione. She sipped greedily at the hot coffee and was already more than halfway through her sandwich by the time Harry felt it was right to ask what had gotten her into such a state.

At first, of course, he had assumed it was her split from Ron. Which was understandable since it had only been weeks prior and the Prophet had yet to find a story bigger than the breakup of two thirds of the Golden Trio.

Hermione, purposely forgoing the information about her secret writer, had told him about the legislation and her struggle to come up with the proper finances to fund a new bill.

He had written her once, the day after her failed dinner with Theo. It was a simple message:

Are you ready to listen?

And now it had been almost two weeks since she heard from him. She wished she had a way to contact Him. Yes, she'd write, yes I'm ready to listen and I'm sorry I ever doubted you and God I think I need you.

But He hadn't reached out since and it was causing Hermione to panic. Was he mad that she had disobeyed Him? Had he given up on her?

"Well," Harry began. "You need money. And you've already gone through all of the apothecary owners except for Malfoy. And I don't know if you know this, Hermione, but when I think of money it's a still frame of Draco Malfoy's face."

Hermione scrunched her nose. "Harry, it's practically against my religion to ask for a Malfoy's help with anything. Can you imagine?"

He shrugged, "He's not that bad. I see him at all the charity fundraisers for the DLME and--"

Hermione perked up, pulling the rim of the cup away from her lips as she was about to take a sip, "Say that again."

Harry furrowed his brows, thinking back on his previous point, "I said he's not bad."

"No not that," Hermione huffed, "after that."

"Oh, he's always at our fundraisers and--"

"That's brilliant, Harry!" She squealed. "You're a genius!"

"I am?" Poor Harry looked so put out as he watched her collect her belongings hurriedly.

"You are," Hermione placed a quick kiss to the top of his head and practically flounced from the dining hall.