From Dreams to Reality

Chapter 3_______________________________________________________________

Hermione felt her lowest as she watched Pigwidgeon fly out of her window with her reply to Ron and a small letter to Harry.

She hadn't told them anything about Draco being there at her house. She'd only told them that something important had come up and that she was unable to stay. She had greatly wanted to, but with the current, unwanted circumstances, she was unable to.

She got dressed rather slowly before heading out of her room, just in time to say goodbye to her parents before they headed off to work. In the lounge, Draco was lying on the couch, watching a kids program on television. He was looking completely dumbstruck at the people on the screen, who were riding around of fake, plastic horses, eerily singing a stupid song at the same time.

"What the hell is this crap?" he asked, a rather revolted look on his face. "They're acting like complete fools!"

Hermione headed over and changed the channel. "It was a children's show," she answered. "They always act like that. Muggle children find it entertaining." She looked him up and down, taking in his face, which was much paler than usual. "How are you feeling?" she asked. "I was meant to ask you earlier, but then you brought up that stuff about Harry..."

"I feel fine, Granger," Draco replied stiffly. "I'm bored out of my wits, but, since the potion still seems to be in control, I feel fine." Hermione had an impassive expression on her face as she sat down on the other couch. "Look, Granger, I didn't mean to offend you with that stuff I said earlier."

"It was true though," she said before she could stop herself. "I do like Harry - an awful lot." She sighed. "I had to decline in going to see Ron because of you and now, you're not going to be the only miserable, bored one in this house."

"You could've gone," Draco said. "I don't need all your wonderful care. I am capable of looking after myself you know."

"I'm not about to leave you in the same house with my Muggle parents," Hermione said as if the idea was absurd. "I know you better. You'd be awful to them, just like you're always awful to me, and Harry, and Ron and every other person that's not you, or your friend."

Draco stared at her, a sneer on his pale face. "That was not called for, Granger," he hissed. "I haven't said anything to you over the last twenty-four hours that can be said to be insulting. I appreciate the fact that you're doing all this for me. I wouldn't have done it for you, that's for sure, so don't insult me like that."

"But it's true and you know it, Malfoy," Hermione said. "You're always insulting someone, whether it's me or ... Dumbledore. You seem to get joy out of it."

"So what if I do," Draco sneered. "I'm a Slytherin and a Malfoy. It's only natural for me to do so."

"So you want to turn into the same sort of person your father is: torturing Muggles and Muggle-borns and other innocent human beings?" Hermione snapped. "If that's so, Malfoy, then you shouldn't be here. You should be by your father's side and kissing the hem of You-Know-Who's robes!"

Draco stayed silent, looking at Hermione with a hateful expression. "Don't talk about thing you don't know or understand, Granger," he said softly. "And don't estimate me." He turned his gaze back to the TV, where a weather report was showing.

Hermione stared at him for a moment. "I'm sorry," she said quietly, standing up and heading into the kitchen to get some breakfast.

*

Hermione was surprised at Draco's behaviour after breakfast. He ignored her when she asked if he wanted anything to eat and just continued to watch some chat show on the TV. He seemed to have gotten quite used to watching television in the short time he'd watched it. He made comments to himself every now and then about the way the people on the screen acted and sometimes nodded his head in agreement. Hermione watched him closely as he did all this, not making a sound in her process.

Finally, lunchtime came and he seemed to finally want to talk to her.

"I'm getting hungry," he said simply to her. A bit of colour had crept back into his cheeks and he was looking slightly better, though the many bruises on his neck and face were more noticeable than ever.

"What do you want?" Hermione asked, heading into the kitchen. "We have bread for sandwiches, fruit, vegies... We haven't got much I'm sorry. Mum needs to do some grocery shopping after she leaves the clinic." Draco headed into the kitchen and looked around at the many cupboards and then into the refrigerator, which Hermione was holding open.

"Clinic?" Draco repeated, looking at her.

"Yes, my mum and dad are dentists," Hermione clarified. "They work at a dental clinic in town." Draco absently nodded as he grabbed an apple.

Hermione grabbed one as well and sat down at the table. She gestured at Draco to do the same and he sat down in the seat opposite her.

"Malfoy," Hermione said, after swallowing a bite of her apple. "Can I ask you a question?" Draco nodded. "You know how I had that dream, does that happen very often to people in the wizarding world?"

Draco frowned and thought. "Not really. My grandmother had dreams like that, though. She said it was a rare gift. Not many people are good at seeing the future, or can for that matter."

"Then, could it have all been a coincidence that I had dream that was similar to the events of you being punished by your father?" Hermione asked, hopeful.

"I doubt that, Granger," Draco said. "You looked truly freaked out last night when I was explaining what had happened to Dumbledore. I'd say you truly did see it."

"But what does that mean?" Hermione asked frantically. "Does that make me a Seer or something?"

Draco frowned and shrugged, taking another bite of his apple. "Perhaps," he said uncertainly. "It's nothing to get freaked out about."

Hermione looked down at her apple, strangely and very suddenly losing her appetite. "What about if it happens again? What if I see You-Know-Who killing ... Dumbledore or something? What am I to do then?"

Draco only shrugged and stood up to throw his apple in the bin. Hermione groaned and Draco turned back to her. "You might see something good happening, you know. You might see Potter kissing you."

"I doubt that'll ever happen. He never takes any notice of me in that way," Hermione said, standing up as well, to throw her apple in the bin. She searched her mind for something that could change the subject. "Have you ever played the game Monopoly?" she asked.

Draco frowned, looking suddenly clueless. "Monopoly?" he repeated.

"Yeah. It's a Muggle board game. I have it up in my closet if you want to play it. It can be quite fun at times and it always fills in time," Hermione said.

Draco, still frowning, shrugged. "If there's nothing better to do," he replied.

Hermione for some very odd reason looked suddenly excited and gave a little hop before heading up to her room to get the game, Draco right behind her.

> * <

Hours passed and Hermione was extremely surprised at how fun she and Draco were having, even with Draco's constant, annoyed insults being thrown her way. It had taken Hermione a while to explain the game of Monopoly to Draco, but once he had gotten the hang of it, he was doing quite well. Hermione, however, was winning, but only slightly.

Draco's owl, Elk, had delivered his belongings and was now sitting on top of Hermione's cat, Crookshanks' scratching pole, looking as though he owned the place. Draco was growing steadily paler as he sat and played, complaining about the money being notes not coins. His hair was becoming straw-like and he was still slightly grubby from his father's evil-doings and time in the forest, even though her mother had cleaned him up a little bit.

"Malfoy, why don't you go have a bath, while I'll get dinner ready. It's Monday and my parents won't be home until eight. I think you're almost due for your potion as well," Hermione said. Draco gave a small nod. "Come on, I'll show you where everything is." She stood up and helped him stand.

Draco headed over to his belongings and grabbed some clean clothes, deodorant and an odd looking razor thing, before turning back to Hermione.

She led the way to the bathroom, where she got a few things out of the cupboard: bubble bath, soap, a clean face cloth, some shampoo and a bottle of conditioner.

"Take as long as you need," she said, before exiting and closing the door. She headed back down the passage to the kitchen, where she busied herself with preparing something for the two of them to eat.

*

Draco sighed slightly to himself as he sat down in the warm, refreshing water of the bath, letting the steam and water seep into his cuts and bruises, which suddenly felt less painful as the dirt and grim washed off them.

He had to admit that it was very nice of Hermione to take him in like this, acting as though she actually cared, even though she probably didn't. He would never let her, or anyone else, stay at his house if they were ill, or injured, or in a bad state like him. He wouldn't let them take baths in one of his bathrooms, or sleep on his couch or in one of the guestrooms and he most certainly wouldn't make them dinner, or even let the House-elves make them dinner. Yet, here she was, letting him stay, letting him have a bath in her bathroom and cooking him dinner, even when they had been enemies for the whole time of knowing each other. He absently felt he didn't deserve her care.

He moved further down into the water, letting the water relieve some of the pain from his previously aching chest. He closed his eyes as his body fully relaxed and he became calm, only to let his thoughts wander to what she had told him about her dream.

It was odd, but he hadn't been lying when he had told her about his grandmother. He couldn't understand how Hermione had that sort of gift, though. His grandmother had always been very interested in the art of advanced Divination and had been extremely good at it, but he knew for a fact that Hermione had hardly any Divination experience in her life. It wasn't an unknown fact at Hogwarts that she had stormed out of a Divination class in her third year, never returning, meaning she had no real experience at all.

Draco frowned and opened his eyes. It wasn't very often that you heard of a Muggle-born witch with a very rare magical gift, in which it's art they have had no real experience in.

Draco's frown grew bigger at that thought.

Perhaps Hermione was much more powerful and talented than he had ever considered her to be.