Harry Potter and the Dream of Fate

He laid there and held his eyelids shut with his index fingers, while he closed off his ears with his thumbs. He breathed loudly and tried to concentrate on sleep, but it was no use. It was hard to sleep when he had two blokes on either side of him breathing like horses. Malfoy grunted loudly, then got up and headed for the bathroom. He questioned his priorities; why he hasn't turned those two into a pile of sludge? He breathed deep and strong as he descended the stairs, and when he reached the bottom he completely forgot why he was down there. Oh, yes, the bathroom. Well, he didn't have to go to the bathroom, so he just hit the couch.

For a while, Draco had been measuring up his values. And so far he had come up with diddly squat. He walked over to a small table on the right side of the common room and poured himself a glass of water. He had no idea why he was here at Hogwarts. None at all, except, of course, to learn and to be the best and most proud pureblood ever in existence. But that had become boring. The very things he once found recreational, such as plaguing Mudbloods and poor weasels, had become useless. Even yesterday, when he teased that Granger girl, sure he got his attention, but little else. He didn't even care when she got let off the hook.

What he did care about was the new student. The way she had with lying off the top of her head with ease, no effort, not giving off a single clue of how tense and nervous she was. Except of course, the small beads of sweat that culminated on the top of her forehead. Quick and witty, she had surprised him. For once, he had fair competition. Sure, Potter was interesting for a while, but his bravery and chivalry had grown old and Draco really didn't want to find a weakness. Of course he was still going to go into stealth mode whenever Harry was around, but now he had a fair nemesis. Someone he was looking forward to coming across in battle. She didn't have any special values, no friendships or loyalty to fall back on. She was raw and crude and smart, and ready to go at it if given fair chance.

Draco finished his water, but he didn't return to bed. Instead he decided to go for a walk.

* * * * * * * * * *

Persephone shuffled around in her bed. For once she had got a real comfortable bed, and she just couldn't seem to find rest in it. She laughed to herself at the irony in it, and decided perhaps she just needed to stretch a bit. She got up and decided to go to the bathroom.

She descended the stairs and when she reached the bottom she forgot why she was there. Oh, yes, the bathroom. But she didn't need to go the bathroom. So she decided to hit the couch.

Her thoughts flickered like the fire she was staring into. For some reason she had some sort of obsession with it. This whole place was full of magic, but nothing ceased to amaze her, and lull her, as those very flames in that fire. They danced freely and were so powerful yet if you just threw a bit of water in there they would be gone, vamoose, hasta la vista, done. Then she thought about her own life. No, she stopped herself. She just didn't want to go into that as not to bore the audience, (wink wink, ;) . So she got up and stretched and decided that those mystic hallways are much more magical seen at night. She grabbed her thin, satiny robe and left the common room.

* * * * * * * * * *

Hermione was restless. She was sleeping like a baby about two hours ago, but now? Forget it. She thought she heard someone leaving, but it must have been her imagination. In fact, it's her imagination that is leaving her restless right now. "Oh bloody hell," she muttered and got up to have a glass of water. Funny, the water was right beside her bed, and she went all the way downstairs into the common room and sits down on her favorite chair next to the fireplace. "Boring," she said and stared into the flames.

If only she knew that someone else had been staring into those same flames about 5 seconds ago.

* * * * * * * * * *

Something seemed to be keeping Ron up. (Now I know you were all expecting that one). He had a funny little chatter in his mind that wouldn't shut up no matter how hard he pressed his pillow over his head. He looked over to his side and saw the curtains in Harry's four poster all shut. "Must be sleeping like a log," he said and decided that there was no way he was falling asleep tonight. So he did the most logical thing, right? Decided to go down to the common room for a bit of space. After all, one just can't ignore Seamus' snoring when one's awake.

He headed down the stairs yawning, and was surprised to see the flicker of light downstairs. The fireplace, right. He just never realized it was lit all night. But something else makes his eyes stray. The fact that someone else just couldn't sleep and was now poking the fire with the rod carelessly with their mind obviously on something else. He held his breath. It's Hermione.

He walked toward her slowly not wanting to scare her, but when he tapped her on the shoulder, she jumped.

"Sorry," he said to her as he took a seat. "What are you doing up?"

Hermione shrugged and put down the poker she was holding. "I can't seem to fall back asleep," she said frowning, "and I have an Arithmancy test tomorrow."

"Oh, poor baby," Ron said, sarcastically flashing a smile.

"You ought to talk, Ron, what are you doing up?"

"Can't sleep," he said, shrugging as well. He looked at her a bit, and saw the fire dancing on her face, playing across her hair. He doesn't notice he is staring.

"Uh, Ron, you okay?" she said, noticing how blue his eyes are. Her stomach did a little lurch, but she just guessed it was the extra slice of lemon pie she had at supper.

"Yeah," he said making a mental note to not goggle at his best friend, yes, only best friend, right now. "So what do we do?"

"Hmm," Hermione said thinking of ways to fall asleep, "tell me about Quidditch, that always makes me fall asleep."

"Ha, ha," Ron mocked a laugh, "tell me about school, or Hogwarts a History."

"Why don't we just not say anything at all?" she said, nonchalantly.

"Okay with me," Ron said, a bit disgruntled.

So they both spent a long while not saying anything to each other. But the funny thing is, they really didn't need any words since they stole glances at one another every once in a while. And when they both looked at each other at the same time, they both turned a very embarrassed shade of mauve, and gave a pretend moan of annoyance.

* * * * * * * * * *

So Persephone continued walking down the halls. It was a horrible idea, really, considering she was pretty much afraid of the dark. But she walked on anyway, and ignored the shadows that lingered on the walls. She walked, explored the hallways, classrooms, and paintings. For some reason she found it all much more interesting when it was dark and alone. She was just weird like that. The halls spoke to her, and unveiled years-old treasures when you passed a finger over them. The stairwells practically begged her to climb them; the paintings guided her to lost rooms and forgotten corridors. She walked quickly considering her avid anticipation to cover this whole castle. Perhaps it was that hunger itself that made her jet down the hallways. That very passion that made her fascinated by all the know-how in the library.

She reached the restricted section and most graciously let herself in. However, she found out soon enough that she wasn't alone.

* * * * * * * * * *

Draco Malfoy bought himself a head boy badge. As well as most of the other stuff he had supposedly "earned". Well, all except for his bitter reputation; he earned that one all by himself.

He had no idea what he was doing. For some reason, he was roaming the halls. Of course, he was strolling because he knew that if he was caught all he would have to do is flash his dandy badge and any criminal intention would be lifted. So he was two years ahead, who cares? Not him. Thanks to a few good words and a few good gold coins his father had miraculously found a way that could make Draco Head Boy material two years early. This with the help of his favorite professor, of course. So did all this babying make Draco feeble? Of course not; no amount of money could beat his witty mind and clever tongue. And that's all Draco had to know. Thank you very much.

Somehow or another all this mind-talk found him in the library, fingering through books, gingerly letting himself into the restricted section. Nothing could settle his insomnia faster than looking at all those gruesome pictures and knowing no one else could.

He was winding through the aisles, tapping random titles as he passed, ducking behind a bookshelf to do what he did best. Spy.

A shadowy figure was wandering through the section. Not wearing an invisibility cloak, obviously, not even careful enough to wear black. They were choosing random books and reading the last page and putting them back. Wait a second, Draco thought, reading books? Why aren't they screaming? And how coincidental, it just happened to be the very person he had been eager to see.

Persephone Blair.

"Well look who it is!" he said a sneer playing on his words, "Miss I'm-too-good-for-detention."

She swiftly turned to face him, a pleasant smile on her lips. "Hey, it's you," she said casually, almost happily, as if he were a friend she hadn't seen in years.

"I was going to ask if you had permission to be up here, but I've thought better of it," he said and sat down on a conveniently located mound of books.

"Well, I would ask as well, but that dazzling badge speaks for itself, doesn't it?" Her words were sarcastic, but not hurtful. She took a seat on the floor.

"Then what are you doing here?"

"Can't sleep..."

"Oh." Draco is having an actual conversation? He can hardly believe it himself. "Neither can I."

"This place is great, isn't it?" she said, holding a book. "It calls out to me." He laughed haughtily as if that was the most ridiculous thing he has ever heard. She flushed a bit and got up.

"Goodnight," she said and headed out.

"Hey!" he called out after her, but all she did was wave.

* * * * * * * * * *

Harry woke up the next morning and found the dormitories close to empty. The only person there besides him was Ron, whose face was almost as red as his hair. "Hey," Harry said in a muffled tone, "what's up?"

Ron jumped about a mile high and froze in place. "Nothing." Harry could tell what he was doing. Trying, unfortunately unsuccessfully, to tidy his hair.

"What are you doing?" Harry asked.

"Just, ugh, my...stupid...hair..." he said and patted down a section that was positively wild. Harry had the urge to laugh but stopped himself since Ron looked quite serious. He got up and walked towards him and tousled Ron's hair about. "There, perfect." It actually didn't look bad; at least it beat the plastic look.

Ron was about to punch him but was stopped by a sound coming from the common room. "What's that?" Ron said, his fist in the air.

"I don't know," Harry said, a painful ringing in his ears. He did know. It was that bloody singing. "Let's go find out," he said as carefree as he could. Ron followed and they left, but before they got to the common room Ron told Harry that he had forgotten something and went back up.

Harry, on the other hand, practically glided down the stairs. He reached the bottom and expected to see Persephone's radio, or even, fingers crossed, Cecile. But it was just Hermione.

She sat on her squashy armchair, with a thick book in her lap. And for the first time, Harry thought, she wasn't making any use of it. She was staring off into space, squinting her eyes and rubbing her temples. Harry knew that look. It's the look Hermione had when she couldn't figure out the answer to something. Probably homework, Harry thought, and went to find out.

"Hey Hermione," he said brightly, "what's up?"

"Nothing," she said, not moving the slightest bit. Harry bent over to see what book she had.

"Read any more, Hermione, and you'll be the school's new library." She snapped up, grabbed the book and shoved it under her chair.

"You're right," she said lightly and feigned a smile.

"Hermione, what's the matter?"

"Nothing," she said. Harry saw the corner of the book sticking out from underneath her chair. Hermione saw him and crossed her legs, blocking it from view.

"What are you reading?" he asked her suspiciously.

"Nothing, just school stuff. You know, charms, potions, complicated spells..."

"Hermione," Harry said, and looked at her square in the eye. "What is it?"

Just then the singing hit a high note, which Harry took notice of and remembered why he was there in the first place. He closed his eyes right there and let the music flow through him.

"And I want to thank you,

Hermione sighed which brought Harry back to reality.

"Have you ever heard that song before, Harry?" she said, breathless.

Harry was about to reply no, but he racked his brain and thought 'yes'. He remembered those words. Actually, he remembered hearing them in Uncle Vernon's car, right before he changed the station and muttered, "Filthy racket". But there was just something different about what he heard now.

"Yes," he said slowly to Hermione, and tried to figure out what was different.

"Know who sings it?" Hermione chimed in, a certain vulnerability in her voice.

"Yes, Dido," but he stopped himself because that wasn't Dido's voice. It was a voice he had heard before in Hogwarts. "No, Norah Jones."

"You were right the first time, Harry," Hermione said and sighed again. "Dido sings this song."

"But that doesn't sound like Dido," Harry said, "That sounds like Norah Jones."

"That's because it's not Dido singing it, nor Norah Jones," she said, an x-ray look in her eyes. As if Harry wasn't getting the most obvious answer there is.

"Hermione, I've heard that voice before. It's. Norah. Jones," Harry said, slightly agitated.

"No, it's not," Hermione said, and took the tip of her wand and practically shoved it into his ear. "This is Norah Jones." A soft velvety music was playing in his ear. Then someone started singing. It was the same song he heard before, but the voice was very much different. It was a very nice voice, yes, but it wasn't what he heard before, it wasn't magic, it was just music.

"This is Norah Jones?" Harry repeated. Yes, very nice voice indeed, very relaxing but not what he heard. Hermione stopped the music and retreated her wand.

"Yes," she said, in an exasperated tone of voice.

The music coming from upstairs stopped.

"Then who was that?" Harry asked. A sudden hope occurred to him that whoever owned that voice actually attended this school.

"That, " she said calmly, "was Persephone."

Harry's eyes widened about five times their usual size. "Persephone Blair?" he said to Hermione incredulously.

"Yes," Hermione explained, "she has the instrumental, and she sings along. She's got the instrumental to Norah Jones' song too. She plays them on her radio."

Harry nodded and muttered "Oh," and still tried to keep his stomach from bursting out of his chest.

"Radio," Hermione repeated.

"Yes," Harry said, not getting the point.

"Harry!" Hermione said, and practically smacked him, "on her RADIO, as in an electronic device."

"Yes, Hermione. I know what a radio is, I…" but he stopped, and felt very stupid and his gaze widened again. "Hermione, isn't electronic stuff not supposed to work in Hogwarts?"

"YES!" she said, and jumped off her chair. "That's the point Harry, it's not supposed to work, and it doesn't work! So why is it that when she uses it, it does!"

"Maybe it does work. Maybe Dumbledore lifted the spell," Harry said. He tried to think logically. Hermione didn't buy into it.

"No, it doesn't work," she said and yanked something out of her bag. She thrust it at him. "Turn it on."

It was a small portable compact disc player Harry recognized as Persephone's. He opened it and saw a CD in it that was obviously overused since the silver lettering that once was there was now gone and it was a bit chipped around the edges. He turned it on. Nothing. No sound, and the red light that was supposed to come on was off.

"Doesn't work," he said and Hermione dropped two rusty batteries into the palm of his hand. He turned the device over and noticed that the battery cage was empty and put in the two old double A's. "But Hermione, these things look dead..." She waved her hand at him for him to continue, and so he did. He flicked the switch. Nothing.

"Here," she said, and put two brand new silver batteries into his hand. "Try those." They looked like a fair match. He put them in and flipped the switch.

Nothing.

"It's not working," he said to Hermione and handed back the Discman. She took the batteries out of the player and put them back into her bag.

"Exactly, they can't work because this is Hogwarts and the spell has not been lifted!" she said and rested her head on her hand. "So why is it, that when I gave this to her and told her to put it on, with no batteries, without her knowing of course, did the little red light come on, and I could hear the hum of the music?" Harry didn't know. Hermione didn't know, and it killed her inside. "She doesn't even know that it isn't supposed to work inside Hogwarts; she thinks it's absolutely normal and it's absolutely perplexing!" she said as she flung her arms into the air. Harry was concerned, but another thought triggered his mind. One far more important to the rest of the school.

"Hermione," he said cautiously, "She's a good singer, don't you think?"

"Yes," she said matter-of-factly, "so good in fact that when she started singing all the boys from the dormitories came down here to get a bit of the song, and all the girls got into perfectly good moods, even Parvati Patil, who went to bed last night crying and screaming because she had a pimple the size of a boulder. She woke up this morning with Persephone's singing, dabbed a bit of cover-up and even though she would still complain she said that she shouldn't worry about the little things and walked right out the door."

"So," Harry said happily, "Don't you think she'd be a shoo-in for the talent contest?"

Hermione stood still for a while and then mirrored the smile Harry wore.