After the Rain

The weirdest noises had accompanied her appearance as well. Unearthly screaming, bombs going off, clapping, and laughing. There were more, but he hadn't been able to place them.

She lay there for a few minutes, unmoving and looking deathly pale. He bent over her, wanting to know if she really was dead (it seemed like just the thing to happen these days), and looked at her face and chest carefully. Suddenly, her eyes opened, and her chest heaved.

His breath caught as he stared into the strangest, and most striking pair of eyes he had ever seen. They were very dark, darker than any he had ever seen, and they had streaks of blue in them that seemed to... shimmer? "Are you ok?" he finally managed to say.

She just stared at him, unblinking, as if she couldn't quite comprehend what she was seeing. She was breathing heavily, as if she'd just ran a long distance, and for the first time, he realized her clothes were shredded as if worn out beyond repair and belonged to a beggar. She was just barely covered, he noticed, blushing crimson.

She opened her mouth to answer, but nothing came out. She was unable to talk, it seemed.

"It's alright, don't worry. We'll figure it out," he murmured to her as she suddenly looked as if she wanted to cry. He stood up and took off his cloak, gently putting it around the girl's shoulders.

"Ron! Hermione! Get over here! You have to see this..." he yelled over his shoulder at his friends who had been right behind him only a moment before, as the girl continued to stare at him with bewilderment.

~

Draco Malfoy stood watching the scene before his eyes. There was a girl, who had suddenly appeared out of no where, laying on the ground in front of Potter, barely wearing anything, as her clothes were completely ruined. Her lower lip began to tremble and Potter looked at her with what was clearly sincere concern. Draco would have gagged at the expression in the Golden Boy's eyes, but he was too wrapped up in staring at the girl as well. There was something about her...

Potter stood up and took off his cloak, putting it around her shoulders as he said something that was obviously meant to be reassuring. Draco knew it wouldn't be the least bit comforting, but at least the fool was doing something. He stopped leaning against the wall of Zonko's and took a step toward them, finally deciding he couldn't just leave the poor frightened girl in the care of an idiot like Harry Potter.

"Hey, Potter! How about getting the girl out of the cold, before she freezes? She already looks as if she's going to die any second," he smirked, as he walked over.

Harry's face frowned with obvious distaste. "What do you want, Malfoy? I don't need your help," he snarled.

"Oh yeah? Then why does she look as if she's going to faint any second? This isn't about you or me. This is about getting this girl out of this weather before she freezes to death," he said acidly.

Harry frowned even deeper, conflicting emotions playing across his face as he thought about whether he should actually accept help from Draco Malfoy. "Fine. Help me lift her up and we'll carry her into the Three Broomsticks," he finally grumbled.

Draco smirked once again. Oh how he loved messing with Potter... He walked closer, looking at the girl closely for the first time. Her eyes met his and he felt his breath catch in his chest. What was it about her? He offered a small smile, trying not to scare her even more. Harry stared at him, thinking he must be dreaming. Had Draco Malfoy actually just acted like a human being?

"Harry! Come look at this!" Ron Weasley practically knocked Harry over as he ran into him. He noticed Draco seconds later, and snarled. "What's this ferret doing talking to you?" he asked his best friend, who was standing next to him. "And who's this?" he asked, finally noticing the girl on the ground, his voice softening considerably.

"Weasley, could you possibly not run your words together so we can actually understand them? I realize this is hard for someone who has an IQ as low as yours, but all the same..." Draco drawled, rolling his eyes.

"Sod off, Malfoy. We don't need the sarcasm," Harry said icily. He turned to Ron "Can it wait? We really need to get this girl out of the cold. She's already chilled as it is, and the sooner it happens, the better for her."

"Where did she come from?" Ron asked, his voice filled with some unknown meaning.

"We don't know yet. She kind of just...appeared..." Harry responded.

Ron was silent. "There's a boy, a few yards away, the same off. We don't know how he got there, but all of a sudden, there he was..." he trailed off, but the two other boys knew what he meant nonetheless.

"Well, then I guess we'd better get them both inside, don't you think?" Draco quirked an eyebrow.

"We'll deal with the girl, you go help Hermione with this boy you found, ok?" Harry told Ron, who stalked off, grumbling.

Draco bent down, and said to the unknown girl, "You'll be alright, understand? We're going to help you, no need to worry..." Harry was startled at the gentleness of Malfoy's voice. Was Draco Malfoy actually concerned about someone other than himself? There's a switch, he thought to himself. Malfoy seized her arms, and pulled her to her feet, only to have her fall down in a heap at his feet, crying even harder. It was clear that she would not be able to walk into the pub by herself.

"Oh, great work Malfoy. Now she's crying even harder," Harry said, exasperated.

"Bugger off, Potter."

Both kneeled down beside her, Draco handing her a handkerchief, and took hold of her, gently pulling her up in the first act of teamwork ever to occur between them. They walked a few steps, struggling to find a position that wouldn't hurt her too much. Finally, five very long minutes later, Harry pointed to a bench a few feet away, to which Draco nodded.

"This would be much simpler if just one of us carried her, and the other just made sure she doesn't fall."

"Alright, that sounds better. Do you want the honours, or are you going to let me?" Harry panted.

Draco smirked. "I will, of course. Like I'd actually entrust a human being to you, of all people."

"Said the Death Eater's son," Harry mumbled darkly. He looked at the girl, to find her shivering even more, her lips turning blue. "Whatever, it doesn't matter. Just as long as she doesn't spend any more time out here."

Draco smirked and picked her up with little difficulty. Harry frowned slightly, but Draco didn't notice, because he was staring at the girl again. Her eyebrows were knitted in confusion and she mouthed "Death Meater". Her look of confusion abruptedly turned into one of sheer amazement and she stared back at the boy who was carrying her.

"Death Meater?" Harry asked, utterly bewildered.

"Death Eater, you imbecile. She mouthed 'Death Eater'," Draco drawled, rolling his eyes. Harry frowned some more as he tucked the cloak even tighter around her.

"Alright Potter, let's go before all three of us freeze to death."

~

Stepping inside the brightly lit pub, Draco began searching for a vacant table immediately, noticing with annoyance the stares he was attracting. Maybe they're staring because you're actually walking in with Potter, came a nasty voice from the back of his mind. Or maybe, they're staring because I'm walking with a beautiful girl in my arms, who isn't wearing anything other than Potter's cloak, he answered, smirking.

Harry pointed toward a booth in the back, which seemed to be away from prying eyes. Draco nodded, already moving through the crowd, all the way to the back. Setting her down as gently as he could, he bent down and took her hands in his, rubbing them furiously. It looked painful from the initial look on her face, but then it softened into one of comfort.

"Don't just stand there Potter! Go get her a butterbeer! If anything will warm her up, that will," Draco said, looking thoroughly exasperated at Harry's momentary stupidity. Harry blushed and hurried away in the direction of Madam Rosmerta.

"Not exactly the brightest bulb on the Christmas tree, is he?" he muttered to no one in particular. The girl gave him a look that quite clearly said, "don't be mean".

"Got quite the facial expressions going, haven't you?" Draco asked, trying not to laugh. Malfoys didn't laugh. They chuckled maliciously, or snickered snidely, but never laughed out of pure mirth. That Draco Malfoy felt like doing just that was saying something indeed.

She grabbed his hands with as much strength as she could muster in them (which wasn't much) and firmly put them on her blue cheeks, obviously hoping he would do the same to them as he did her hands. Shrugging, he began to slowly rub her cheeks in hopes of getting them unfrozen.

This is slightly awkward, he thought to himself wryly.

"Can't even keep your hands off her, Malfoy? I should have known..." Harry said, referring to Draco's less than virginal reputation, and making him jump.

"But - but she -"

"Yeah, I bet, Malfoy," Harry spat, setting the steaming drink in front of her. "Go on, drink it," he urged her, seeing her hesitation.

"It's okay to drink, it isn't poisoned. Potter doesn't do well enough in Potions to kill you," Draco snickered. Harry glared at him.

The girl froze. Her eyes became wide, and she started muttering things to herself. She looked up at Harry and stared. Motions? She mouthed at him, looking utterly mystified.

"Motions?" Now Harry was the one confused.

Draco rolled his eyes again and sighed. "Honestly Potter, I think you need to get yourself some new glasses, because the ones you have don't seem to be working for you. She said, or tried to say, 'Potions'."

"Why would she have that sort of reaction to the word 'Potions'? It isn't as if Hogwarts is the only school who teaches it." Harry turned to Draco.

"What am I, a bloody Oracle?! How the hell would I know?"

"Oh, for Merlin's sake Malfoy, sod off! It was a rhetorical question! I never really expect you to know anything. If I did, I'd be just as big an idiot as you!"

"I'm an idiot? Isn't that just a bit of a double standard?! You're the one that tried getting past that blasted three-headed dog in first year, tried to kill a bloody basilisk by yourself in second, entered yourself in the Triwizard Tournament in fourth, even though you were way over your head -"

"At least I wasn't the one who got injured by a hippogriff by doing the very thing Hagrid told you not to! And I seem to recall winning the bleeding Tournament, anyway!"

The two continued to bicker, neither noticing the way the girl had begun to frantically spin in her seat, as if searching the crowd for anything she might recognize.

~

Cass was scared, and she wasn't too proud to admit that. She'd long since realized that denying your fear only made things worse. Admitting it allowed you to concentrate your efforts on getting out of the frightening situation, even if there wasn't a clear way to begin with.

She assessed her situation. She didn't know where she was. She couldn't speak. She couldn't walk by herself. The only two people she was with were two boys she didn't even know, who couldn't stop arguing for even a few seconds. Her clothes were ruined. She was colder than she's ever been in her life. She didn't see her bother or Alex anywhere. She'd just heard the words 'Death Eater' and 'Potions', both of which were considered ancient vocabulary by any stretch of the imagination. Hogwarts stopped teaching Potions as a subject over a hundred years ago, and Death Eaters virtually ceased to exist shortly after the Great War ended, she thought to herself. Speaking of the Great War, where had she heard the names 'Potter' and 'Malfoy' before? They had to be connected...

She looked at the still-squabbling boys. They were about as different as night and day, from what she could see. The one named Malfoy had white-blonde hair that fell neatly into his eyes. His eyes were silver-grey, and he had very pale skin. He had a nicely toned body, but his hands looked as if he'd never done any work in his life. In contrast, the one named Potter was slightly shorter, had untidy jet-black hair, and very bright green eyes. He was as thin as the other one, but his skin was a shade darker and he had a lightning bolt-shaped scar on his forehead, just barely visible through his bangs. His mouth was much friendlier than Malfoy's, appearing as if he smiled most of the time, when Malfoy's looked like he was forever frowning. And they keep bickering! She wanted to slap the both of them and tell them to grow up, but she was still unable to move, and her voice wasn't any better off.

She sighed inwardly. This situation obviously wasn't going to be resolved any time soon - no matter how many times she admitted to herself she was frightened.

Wait - a lightning bolt shaped scar? Potter and Malfoy?! Her brain began to work frantically as everything fell into place. But - but, it couldn't be...could it? That's impossible! Her normally rational brain screamed at her, just as she fell to the floor in a dead faint.

~

"Oh, bloody hell!" Harry stared down at the limp form of the girl, who was now on the ground unconscious.

Malfoy bent down and lifted the girl up. "Ok, Potter, I think it's time we just bring her back to Pomfrey."

Harry nodded, just as his two friends staggered over, carrying a boy with sandy blonde hair that looked to be as tall as even Ron.

"Do you two think you could possibly attract more attention?!" Draco hissed at them. Even more people were staring at them than when he and Potter had entered, he noted with irritation.

"Would you care to find out?" Hermione asked him, her eyes flashing.

Draco unconsciously took a step backwards. Granger had always intimidated him slightly. With Weasley or Potter, it's was an empty threat half the time, but when Granger threatened to hex you into oblivion, she meant it, and she was certainly capable of it as well, which made it twice as bad. She smirked, making Draco's blood boil.

"Just set him down on the bench," Harry murmured, nodding at the other side of the table. The boy looked very bored, Harry noticed. It looked almost comical.

Harry walked over to him. "What does he have in his hand?" he asked Hermione.

"Some sort of book, but I really don't know what it is. He won't let it go," she answered, looking miffed.

"Granger, why do you always seem to think that you deserve a look at any book you come across? There are some, believe it or not, that you wouldn't, in a million years, want to see if you knew the contents," Draco told her.

Harry shoved the undrunk butterbeer towards the boy. "Here, drink this. It'll warm you up," he said, noting the boy's blue lips.

"Ron! Give up your cloak!" Hermione barked at him, attacking the clasp at his throat.

"Hermione - stop -" he struggled to say.

"Here," she said warmly to the boy, handing him Ron's cloak and looking smug.

"Why did it have to be my cloak?" he whined.

"Because mine wouldn't have fit him, and Harry's already given his up. Don't be selfish," she sniffed.

Draco snorted. "You're nearly a foot taller than her, and she still manages to get the better of you?"

"Sod off, Malfoy," he snapped.

The boy nodded his thanks to Hermione, a deeply worried look etched across his features. He slowly pulled the drink across the table to himself, still unsure. He lifted it to his lips and swallowed. Smiling slightly, he eagerly drank more.

Ron laughed. "Like that, do you?" The boy nodded vigorously and took a long gulp, draining the last of it.

"Malfoy, is she showing any signs of waking up?" Harry asked Draco, who was now situated with the girl in his lap, her head lying peacefully on his arm.

"What does it look like?"

Harry was about to say something back, which was undoubtedly sarcastic, but he noticed the boy had stopped drinking and was staring with wide eyes at the girl in Malfoy's arms.

He made some sort of strangled cry and seized the girl's hand, which was resting on the table. Grasping it, he looked like he wanted to cry with relief.

~

"Well, I reckon they know each other."

"No, I reckon he just fell madly in love with her as soon as he saw her," Hermione snapped at Ron.

They were sitting at a table not far away, watching Harry and Malfoy bicker about the best way to get the two back to Hogwarts. The girl was still out cold, but now the boy was holding her, and Malfoy was pacing.

"Where do you think they're from?" Ron asked, ignoring her.

"I don't know," she answered truthfully. "Obviously the same place, but I really don't know."

Ron sighed. "Everything is so screwed up right now," he muttered, running his hand through his hair and looking much older than his sixteen years.

Hermione stared at her friend with growing concern. Ever since Sirius's death last year, and the start of open war with the Death Eaters, Ron wasn't the same person. Harry wasn't either, but this was something you expected at least. You can't lose your only family and not change. Ron on the other hand, had aged more in the past year than all the years of his life put together. He had grown up, years before he was supposed to.

She glanced over at the table, momentarily amused at the contrast between the four people, then cursed under her breath. "Why the hell don't they just quit bickering and figure it out?" she asked angrily.

Ron didn't bat an eyelash at her profanity. He was used to her swearing by now, though it had surprised him hugely at first. Since last year, she had started swearing almost as much as Harry and him. More than Harry and him. Truth be told, she probably had an even fouler mouth than Charlie did now, which was saying something because Charlie learned to swear from the colourful people who he worked with at the dragon camps.

Over the summer holidays, she had come to stay at the Burrow for a month as usual. The second night she was there, she made the mistake of letting loose her impressive vocabulary in front of his mother when his dad had come home with news of more deaths. To say that Mrs. Weasley had been shocked would have earned the award for Understatement of the Year. Her face went red and she was completely speechless for an entire hour. Not that Harry and Ron hadn't been; if anything, they were more shocked than Mrs. Weasley. That was only the second time they had heard her swear like that, and they had convinced themselves at the time that they'd had a joint hallucination about the entire thing. In Hermione's defence though, she'd had the grace to look abashed at her own lack of self-control and had apologized profusely. Ron didn't think his mother would ever quite forgive her for that, nevertheless. She had never been a fan of profanity, and never would be.

Now, Ron just shrugged. He had become accustomed to it by now, and just assumed it was her release from the frustrations of the war. They all had their fixes, after all, why couldn't she have hers?

Ron sighed, not willing to admit that Harry was being as big of a prat as Malfoy. Hermione's mouth thinned (giving her an uncanny resemblance to McGonagall, he thought), and she stood up, walking over to Harry and Malfoy with a very frightening expression on her face. Ron shivered; if she'd been looking at him like that, he'd be running as fast as he could in the opposite direction.

That was another thing that had changed about her. Before, she had been the one to hold back him and Harry, trying to prevent fights. Now, her fuse was even shorter than his, and it usually took him and Harry both to keep her from leaping at whatever poor fool had provoked her.

Ron swirled the remaining butterbeer around in his glass. It had always been his favourite drink, ever since he'd tasted it on his first trip to Hogsmeade in his third year. It had never failed to warm him up when he was cold, or cheer him up when he was depressed. Never... until now.

~

"Listen Malfoy, I don't care if you think I'm a moron, the fact is, we can't just let them sit here in the Three Broomsticks, feeding them Madam Rosmerta's food, however good it may be. For one thing, she has to close up some time."

"I know that, you thick-headed prat. I'm just wondering whether we should wait until it gets a little warmer."

"Malfoy, you ass, it won't get any warmer! It's already five in the afternoon!"

"So? The WWN said it would warm up."

"Malfoy, it's December. We're in Scotland. Does this mean anything to you? Because for someone who rags on everyone else for being stupid and inept, it really should."

Draco glared at Harry for a very long time, not willing to back down. He hated losing to Potter, even in the smallest of arguments. All of a sudden, Draco found himself looking at a very angry Granger, with his head stinging from an unexpected assault.

"What the hell was that for?" he swore, rubbing his head.

"For being a stubborn shit that refuses to admit he's wrong, even when it's painfully fucking obvious!" she growled at him, a very ugly expression on her face. She whipped around to face Harry. Draco cringed as she hit his jaw squarely with her small fist, his eyes widening with shock and a dark bruise springing up almost immediately.

"And you! There are more important things than bickering with Draco-fucking-Malfoy. I don't care how big of a bastard he is, you need to figure out a way to get these people back to the care of Madam Pomfrey! In case you haven't noticed, they can't talk, or even fucking walk! They don't even know where the hell they are, for Merlin's sake! We don't know if there is anything wrong with them, but if there is, you are wasting precious time arguing pointlessly with the biggest damned idiot known to mankind! It isn't like it'll make a difference! You two will never cease to argue as long as you draw breath, no matter who wins this little verbal match, or any other in the future, and I'll be damned if you two screw things up by this redundant bickering!"

Draco would have dearly loved to see Potter beaten up by a girl, but by the look on her face, she wasn't planning on stopping any time soon, nor was she planning on being gentle with him. If Potter looked a mess right now, just wait until Granger got through with him...

Cursing himself silently, Draco reached out and grabbed her around the waist. "Granger, get a hold of yourself. If you don't, you'll end up beating one of your best friends to bloody pulp. And as much as I would love dearly to see Potter in that kind of agony, I detest blood, and these are new shoes."

She looked at him shrewdly. "Let go," she growled, fighting him once again.

"I don't think so. Not with the way you're behaving. I'd be mad to do so," he scoffed

She bit, clawed and ripped at him to let go, but years of Quidditch training had not been for nothing. He held fast, though he would have a pale scattering of fine white scars on his left forearm for many years to come.

"A little help here, Weasley! She's your friend, not mine!" he snarled at the mute form of Ron, who was standing nearby, watching in amazement as she calmed down, quite unexpectedly.

"If you'll kindly release me, Malfoy, I would be very thankful."

Draco was all too happy to comply, as he really didn't want to have to hold her for very much longer.

"Thank you, for preventing me from doing something I would have deeply regretted," she told him, as gracefully as she could.

He smirked. "Not a problem. Anytime you decide to snap, just call me and I'll restrain you," he replied, sarcastically, "and, if you want to repay me anytime, my door is always open," he wagged his eyebrows at her, noting her willowy figure. Even if she was a Mudblood, she'd still be good -

"Not on your life," she growled, all grace gone.

"Alright, have you two decided how to get these two back or not?" Ron asked cautiously, interrupting them.

"No, but we have decided that it won't be getting any warmer today," Draco sighed, resigned.

Rubbing his temple, he said, "Why don't we just conjure a few stretchers and take them back that way? We can place warming charms on them to keep them warm, and it won't take as long as carrying them."

"That's brilliant!" Hermione exclaimed, forgetting whom she was talking to. Over her head, he saw Harry distinctly mouth "Thank you" to him.

He nodded back tiredly, wondering briefly if this constituted a Wizard's Debt.

~

Cary played with a piece of Cass's jet-black hair while he watched two of the people fight with each other. The blond one was telling the black-haired one he was a moron. Cary would have liked to watch this, but under any other conditions. Right now, both he and his sister were in trouble, and they didn't know where Alex was. Why do we have to be at the mercy of people who are arguing about the weather? He thought irritably. Although he didn't know it, Cary felt the same way Cass had only a little while before. He wanted to slap some sense into the both of them.

He never had to, however, because at that precise moment, the girl with curly hair came over and hit them hard enough for everyone in the strange room. He involuntarily cringed. It looked like it hurt.

He looked down at his sister and frowned. She looked so vulnerable in her sleep, unlike the guarded expression she wore when she was awake. Cary knew very well that many guys at school and around the neighbourhood would have loved to date her, but they never knew how to approach her because she always seemed so forbidding to them. This was just as well, he thought, as he wasn't too keen on the idea of some guy with their paws all over Cass. He did want to her to fall in love some day, but he knew far too well how boys her age acted. He should, considering he was one of them.

Cary and Cass were, in reality, as different in looks as Malfoy and Potter had seemed to Cass earlier. So different, that people often wondered how they could possibly be related, not to mention twins. Cass was very pale, had black hair, and was very short and thin. Her eyes were startlingly dark, with streaks of bright blue in them, and she had a very long, jagged scar along her left forearm from an accident when they were younger. Cary was just the opposite: sandy blonde hair, light green eyes, and a tall, wiry figure that made people wonder about them even more: Cary was a good foot taller than his sister. He tanned very easily and had strong, large hands that dwarfed his sister's small, bony ones. Why did she have to be the one to get the good looks? He had asked himself irritably, over and over again through the last few years (although he never really meant it). Evidently, he never saw the numerous girls who drooled over his height and boyish grin.

He frowned again. That Malfoy character was looking at his sister with something that went far beyond polite concern, and he really didn't like it. From what he'd picked up so far, the guy had quite the reputation. Definitely someone he didn't want going near his sister, even if she did think she could take care of herself.

But Cary pushed these thoughts to the back of his mind. Cass's face was alarmingly pallid and pale. From the looks of things, she was far worse off than him, and needed medical attention as fast as possible. He looked up just in time to see the redhead heading toward him, along with the other boys. They weren't arguing anymore; instead the one with the glasses looked dishevelled and bruised, and the blonde guy looked like he wished he were anywhere else.

Cary supposed this meant they were going to move them again, and pursed his lips. This was going to hurt.

~

The sky was darkening, and the wind was blowing much harder than it had before. The first stars were becoming rapidly visible along the horizon, and the moon was out, seemingly eerie in its bright red colour, making Harry wonder if tonight was going to be as significant as it felt. Trelawney had spent a good hour explains the moon and it's effects on things below it during the last class, talking about how bewitching the moon was said to be. He had laughed it off as usual, ignoring her warnings about a "life changing event under a blood-red moon", but now he shivered with apprehension. It was far too weird. Ron looked over his shoulder and sent him a dark look. He was thinking the same thing. He turned back and continued walking.

About ten minutes later, he dropped back silently, and whispered out of the corner of his mouth, "Why in hell do you think Malfoy has bothered staying to help?"

"What do you mean?"

"I mean that the Malfoy we know would normally not even stick around to make sure they were alright. Most likely, he'd laugh at us for helping them. The one in front of us has been around since you found the girl and not left. Something's in it for him, I'm telling you..." Ron said under his breath.

"Haven't you seen the way he looks at her? It's like he's genuinely concerned for her," Harry said, somewhat hesitantly.

Ron stifled a guffaw. "What do you mean, 'genuinely concerned'? This is Malfoy were talking about."

"Yes, but you didn't see the way he looked at her when we were bringing her into the pub. There's something here much more than just Malfoy's normal hunting prowess upon seeing a pretty girl, although I'm sure there's a little of that going on too. I don't want to believe it, but..." He trailed off, and they elapsed into silence.

A few minutes later, Ron said quietly, "The moon..."

"Yeah... and that's what worries me the most."

~

Draco shook his head. The girl floating beside him was so familiar, if only he could figure out why...

He looked at her again. She was very fragile looking when unconscious, he noticed. She had had a sardonic smirk attached to her face before, in a way that said she clearly forgot that it was there, but now she looked so much...sweeter. Draco smirked at the thought of himself using the word 'sweet', but even that thought did not distract his brain from how he knew this girl. It nagged at the back of his mind, and wouldn't let him be.

Surely there must be some explanation... It hit him like a bucket of ice water being dumped on him: this was the same girl who had mysteriously haunted his dreams for the last year, and wouldn't let him have even a night of rest. His eyes widened with the realization and his thoughts drifted back to the dreams he had tried to ignore for the last year.

Draco was running through the Forest, faster than he ever had in his life. Something was chasing him, something he never in his life wanted a part of... He came to a clearing and stopped. Before him was a meadow, strewn with wildflowers and long grass, with a small, flowing stream not far away. The place resonated safety, and Draco felt instantly calmed. The water from the stream was cold and sweet, and dipping his hands in it for a second time, he caught a glimpse of a girl's reflection, staring at him.

He looked up and found himself looking at a girl who was utterly gorgeous. She had a calm, serene look on her face and her eyes sparkled mysteriously at him. She had a simple, white dress on, that left little to the imagination about her figure, but he hardly noticed because he was too wrapped up in her face. He smiled softly at him, and brought a long, slender white hand up to stroke his cheek, creating goose bumps at her light touch.

Draco shook his head again, shaking slightly. That dream came to him every night, never going any further, and never leaving him anything but confused and frustrated. But now, at least, he knew that she had been right all those nights when she told him the same thing. Perhaps now he'd have some closure.

Draco frowned and corrected himself. Too right. She had been too right.

~

Deep in Cass's subconscious, she was dreaming, although in the back of her mind she knew this wasn't an ordinary figment of her imagination, like the purple, polka dancing bunnies she'd had a few nights before...

Cass was walking down a road, with the wind roaring around her. She wasn't cold, but the moonlight was unnerving. Looking up, she noticed the moon was glowing red, and seemed to be the only thing that wasn't blurry. Around her were shadows that looked vaguely familiar, but only vaguely. Ahead was a castle, and in a second she was on the threshold, much faster than was possible, though she only registered this dimly.

She blinked several times, and the face of the Malfoy boy swam in front of her eyes, no longer blurry.

~

Everything happened so quickly: no sooner had they gotten to the front doors had Madam Pomfrey, Dumbledore, Snape, and McGonagll rushed out into the night air and taken control of the situation. The girl had woken up, looking confused once more, and Malfoy had told her something Harry hadn't quite managed to hear. In the blink of an eye, Dumbledore had organized everything, and they were now in the hospital wing, both of the patient's eyes wide open with unmistakable fear.

Pomfrey was in the middle of throwing things into a cauldron (with Snape hovering nearby, suggesting things), when Dumbledore sat himself down in a chair between the beds (he'd been observing things placidly from the shadows). He, Ron, and Hermione were sitting awkwardly on one of the other empty beds, not sure whether to leave, and Malfoy had situated himself not far away, pacing in a little space where he thought he wouldn't obstruct anything.

The wizened headmaster looked at the two, who were watching things with eyes as big as dinner plates. "Cassandra, Cary," he said slowly, "Let me be the first to welcome you to Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Your arrival has been highly anticipated, and for quite some time now."

The two people in front of him were not the only ones whose jaws dropped.