Dream a Little Dream For Me

Chapter One -

Sleeping Awake

Even with his eyes closed, he could still tell quite clearly where the beast was. It was right behind him. Holding his breath, Harry pushed himself into the wall of the hideous auditorium. The hilt of the sword in his hand was slick with sweat, and the other boy's command's to the approaching giant snake rung through the hall, a dangerous note of desperation working into the words. Harry could also talk to the snake, they both had realised, and the other boy was not happy at all about it. With the arrival of the sword, there had also come a bird, which circled the great serpent monster as Harry ran blindly from the beast. It howled out in pain, and Harry couldn't help but take a quick look at what was happening; the other boy screamed instructions for it to leave the bird and go instead for Harry, but too late, the damage had been done. The creature was now blind.

Harry could open his eyes freely now, and he darted with the jewelled sword at the beast. Its head snapped this way and that, giant fangs flashing in the dim torch light, avoiding the blade, aiming for Harry as he ran across the hall, trying to reach the red-headed girl lying beneath the tremendous statue of someone Harry couldn't help but feel was oddly familiar. Its gaping mouth surged forward and Harry lunged with the blade, a desperate cry emanating from his throat. But as the blade pierced the creature's head, its jaw clamped down, and one long and slender fang drove into Harry's shoulder, filling his body with deadly poison and searing pain. And Harry screamed, and screamed, and he realised with complete and utter certainty that very soon, he was going to die...

***

He hit the floor with a considerable amount of pain, taking the vast majority of the bed-spread with him. Panting, Harry flung his arm up to the bed-side cabinet, grabbed his wand and cried "Lumos!" into the darkness. It was just a nightmare, he told himself as his breathing gradually slowed down, just another nightmare.

But are they really though? he thought as he looked round his shadowy bedroom, still jittery from the dream of the serpent and its master. Are they only dreams? He ran his free hand over his throbbing forehead; he was sick of it now. Standing, he crossed his bedroom and looked out of the window onto the garden below, especially dark in the early morning hours before dawn. Deep down, he knew they were not only dreams.

Months ago now, but still only less than a year ago, Harry had collapsed in his kitchen, completely blacked out after a party. When he'd woken up, he assumed he'd just had too much to drink, but he soon found out that was not the case. He'd been gone over a day, and in that time so much had changed that he couldn't quite believe that was all the time that had past. Not only that, but it seemed that he hadn't really been gone at all.

Some impostor, he thought bitterly as he lent against the sill, had taken his place and in a matter of twenty-four hours turned his life upside down. He remembered vividly coming to on the floor, a vague impression of seeing himself walking towards a bright light flashing briefly before his eyes, and then his mother rushing over and grabbing hold of him, demanding to know if he was alright. Sirius was standing there, a haunted look that Harry had never seen the like of before on his face; that was when Harry began to realise that all was not right with the world.

He pushed himself angrily away from the window and paced over to his wardrobe door, snatching the handle to look in the mirror and lifted his fringe.

There was the scar.

A bloody great bolt of lightening slashed across his forehead as a permanent reminder of every horrid thing that happened in his absence. Wherever he went now, he would be stopped in the street, gawped at by complete strangers asking to know what happened, how he defeated You-Know-Who. And Harry would never be able to give them a satisfactory answer, because the truth was, he honestly didn't know.

No one ever asked about Seamus, he thought resentfully as he crossed the room and threw himself back on the bed. That had been the thing he'd been the most resistant to believe. He could maybe understand the Dimensional Hotspots and Alternate Realities after Sirius explained them to him and showed him the books to prove it. He was able to come to terms with the idea of facing You-Know-Who after Sarah's first hand account of the whole affair, perhaps even understand that he was finally gone from the mass jubilation that ensued. But Seamus - Seamus was really dead? He did not even begin to comprehend the notion until he saw him at the wake in Ireland, so still and tranquil in that coffin. He'd lost it completely when they closed the lid and finally lowered him into the ground; his anger and rage spilt out in a flow of unrestrained remorse, frustration and bitterness, and he'd run from the cemetery, run without knowing where he was going, only stopping when he was physically sick and could go no further.

Parvati; she was a wreck, almost a completely different person that Harry had to pry open and console, almost for his own benefit as much as hers. She was the only one he trusted, the only one who could share the experience on the same level as him, the only one who truly understood the loss in the same way. Dark circles hung below her haunted eyes and she had blatantly lost a great deal of weight. They had spent most of the summer together, and she would wake in the night from her bed screaming about the horrors she had witnessed, only to be consoled by Harry who would leap from his place on the floor and hug her until the crying stopped. But even then, he was only of so much use, because he could not share in her pain as he had no memories of his own, only be sympathetic to her after she described the events that had taken place in Germany.

Sarah was not quite as bad; she had not fought in the battle after all. She rarely slept at all though and refused to ever have the lights off; Harry felt her fear of the dark would probably never leave her. He often found her wandering the house in the middle of the night, normally reading in the living room, soft, almost inaudible, music playing from their mother's enchanted record player. In the early months, she would try and talk to Harry about what happened in the circular room with You-Know-Who, ask him why Peter betrayed them and how was he able to defeat the Dark Lord.

Both of the girls had become quickly despondent with insistence he couldn't remember a thing.

That was almost what he was most cut up about; the fact that no one had realised he was gone. Not one single person, apart from Sirius right at the very end, had even an inkling that Harry had departed from his own body, only to be replaced by some...fraud, some trickster who seemed to think his life wasn't enough of a screw up - oh no. He had to come and mess with Harry's own as well.

And for all that time, Harry had no idea what had happened to him. The thought that he had disappeared entirely from this plane of existence was almost too terrifying to think about, but given the fact that he couldn't remember a thing of what happened in that time seemed to point to it as the obvious conclusion. Had he been dead? Was he in Heaven, or yet another dimension? Or was he really just...nowhere? He guessed he would probably never know; no one else seemed to have an answer for him after all, not even Sirius, who had become the self-proclaimed expert on the whole affair.

And now the intruder was gone, Harry was left to cope with the raging after-math that remained. Of course, there was the frustrating and rather annoying newly acquired and undeserved fame for which there was no dispersing, but there were far more serious matters to be dealt with as well. Seamus' death was the obvious starting point, and the effect events had taken on family and friends; his parents, Remus and Parvati. But then there was the knowledge that this impostor had branded about during his short stay in their world. Muggle born witches and wizards were flying out of the woodworks, demanding to be educated. Everyone knew he was the Heir of Gryffindor and expected him to walk on water or some other such rubbish. And even though it appeared that You-Know-Who had been banished to the great beyond, apparently this other Harry had left with grave tidings of his return and none of the details of what to do about it should it happen. Typical.

Then there were the dreams. At first, they were no more than random flashes of images working into Harry's own sub-conscious world, but then they progressed to fully fledged narratives, repeating night after night, all horrifying in their own special way. There would be battles, such as the one with the giant snake, or in graveyards, or against dementors. There would be a gripping sensation of loss running throughout these dreams, and the worst of them all was of himself, staring incessantly into a mirror at his family as if that was the only way he could reach them. Harry would wake from that dream in a cold sweat, the need to vomit overwhelming. That was the dream he dreaded the most.

In all these dreams, Harry was himself, possessing an understanding of the events unfolding that would vanish from his mind as soon as he woke. And gradually he began to realise that the dreams were not the imaginative result of his over-stressed mind venting in the only way it knew how; no, they were too precise for that. They were memories.

His memories.

Gradually, it became evidently clear that not only had this interloper invaded Harry's life and wrecked it almost beyond recognition, he had left echoes behind him to resonate through Harry whilst he slept, torture him almost.

He couldn't bring himself to tell anyone, not even Sirius. His pride told him that this other Harry could try all he liked, but he wasn't going to let him affect his life any further than he already had. An easy moral to have in the day; harder when he was once again sat wide awake in his bed in the middle of the night staring at shadows and trying not to think of the mess his life had become.

Oh and God save us tonight, as if that wasn't enough, there was another bloody plot-twist thrown in at the last minute. It seemed the impostor, as well as saving the world, had a busy time making friends in Harry's absence. There was a muggle born witch who apparently, for some reason, knew everything about the alternate dimension problem and had somehow got herself tangled up in the whole business, and now felt she had some sort of unfounded connection to Harry. But oh, it got worse.

It had been Draco Malfoy who had started the whole shebang by arriving at Harry's front door step in the dead of night announcing he wanted help. Harry's help. The other bloke must have been a complete nancy, Harry thought; he himself would have vaporised the Slytherin where he stood, not listened to his rubbish for half an hour meaning Sarah ended up a Death Eater hostage and poor Seamus six feet under. And as for this 'I'm redeemed, my daddy made me do it' bullshit - well, Harry was having none of it. He was and forever would be a Malfoy; by very definition someone Harry would hate with a passion cooled only in death.

He hated everything he represented, which was rather unfortunate for Harry as it turned out, as most others took his supposed defection as genuine. Parvati still loathed him almost as much as Harry, blaming him for Seamus' fate, wishing it had been him in his place. But Sarah had a great deal of admiration for him, as did Remus and his parents. Sirius seemed to take a particular liking to the boy, and he and Lily between them had practically adopted him.

Hence, he was now living at Godric's Hollow. Right above Harry's own bedroom in fact.

Having no family to speak of as such, it had been decided that the Potter's had more than enough space and owed the safe return of their daughter, at least in part, to him. He had therefore moved in at the beginning of summer; Harry had barely spoken more than half a dozen words to him in that time and certainly never socialized with him. It was, in his opinion, unforgiving that a Malfoy had been welcomed into their home with such open arms, as if he had never betrayed them in the slightest. Harry had had issues with Sirius about the apparent lack of judgment as well, but he had been more easily forgiven, being his Godfather and all.

Tired beyond comprehension with the weight of his woes, Harry laid back into his pillows once more, wand still firmly grasped in his hand, and tried to concentrate on sleep; tomorrow was an important day after all, and he wanted to feel prepared for what lay ahead. Forget the past, live for the future, he told himself as his eyelids drooped heavily once again. For it does not do to dwell on dreams...

***

Sarah Potter froze suddenly where she stood; halfway down the top flight of stairs at Godric's Hollow. There was movement in Harry's bedroom. After a moment or two though, it appeared that he was just having another one of his dreams as all went still once more. Sarah slowly let out the breath she had been holding and carried on walking silently down onto the landing, and then down the next flight of stairs into the entrance hallway.

She rarely slept anymore, not after what had happened last November. When she did doze off, she would wake only hours later from horrendous nightmares about You-Know-Who and the battle she saw, and not be able to get to sleep again after that.

The lounge was dark and shadowy. Sarah would sometimes sit there by herself until morning broke; she would often find herself falling into a deep sleep under the shining beams, if only for a hour or so, that would get her through the day. Tonight though, she didn't fancy it, so instead made her way to the kitchen with half a mind on finding something with little calorific value to munch on.

A sense of movement caught her attention just as she was about to reach up for a jar of Honeyduke's finest chocolate covered jelly-babies. She froze for a second time that night and listened.

Very faintly, she could hear a sort of tapping or thudding coming from the family room. Lowering her arms, she gingerly felt for her wand in her dressing gown pocket. Upon finding it, she trod softly on the ceramic tiles and over to the family room door in the hallway. She very slowly edged the door open and peered into the gloom; what she saw struck her as quite a curious sight.

Draco Malfoy, their new houseguest, was sitting at the shining black grand piano, playing something with his eyes shut, just letting his fingers glide methodically over the keys as if they were made only of glass. He had obviously performed a silencer charm on the piano, as all Sarah could hear was the soft thud, thud, thud as the cloth covered hammers hit the stings in the belly of the instrument. She stepped cautiously closer to the young man, and obviously walked through the bubbled skin of the charm, as suddenly the air was filled with the melodious writings of Beethoven.

"The Moonlight Sonata," she breathed quietly.

Although he didn't seem too shocked or surprised, Draco lifted his hands from the keys, still resonating from his touch, and turned to face the young Potter girl. "Shouldn't you be in bed?" he asked, but there was no malice to his tone.

Sarah shrugged. "I don't sleep much any more."

Draco chuckled quietly to himself. "I noticed," was all he said, before he turned away from her once more and ran his slender right-hand fingers across the white notes of the keyboard.

"That was beautiful playing," said Sarah, stepping closer once again. "I didn't think you knew how - you've never done it before."

"It's all I can do," replied the blond boy, almost apologetically. "My mother taught it to me years ago - I can't read music or anything. I wanted to try before...tomorrow. And I'm not half as good as you are," he added as an after thought.

Sarah stepped so she was now leaning against the reflective black surface of the piano and looked at Draco. "That's okay," she told him, "you don't really need to know much else - that piece suites you perfectly." She purposefully ignored the part where he said she was a good player, as she blatantly knew that was a load of codswallop.

Draco smiled again and continued staring at his fingers, lightly tracing along the keys. Sarah got the impression that he was not unhappy to have her company, just didn't know quite what to make of her. That was fine by her; she would stay and do all the talking. She felt it was about time they got to know each other anyway.

"Are you nervous about tomorrow?" she asked, perching on the end of the rather long piano stool.

Draco scoffed, then bit his lip. "Terrified," he admitted to the young girl.

She nodded. "Me too." She thought for a moment, then added; "But you should be okay - I mean, at least you've done it before."

"I think that's what scares me the most," was his only reply.

***

The muggle train screamed as it tore through Kings Cross station, making Draco shudder as he stared apprehensively at the barrier between platforms nine and ten not four feet in front of him.

"Go on, Son," said Sirius reassuringly, and gave him a small nudge in the back. Draco took a deep breath, closed his eyes, then started to walk towards platform nine and three-quarters, squashing the wave of nausea that was rolling up from somewhere around his stomach region.

Feeling he was on the other side, he peeked between his eyelids to witness the madness unfurling beside the brilliant scarlet form of the Hogwarts express.

"They are all going to despise me," said Draco softly under his breath, just as Lily and Sarah came flying through the wall to screech to a halt beside him.

"That was fantastic!" cried Sarah, and, after a moment's pause; "can we do it again?!"

"Absolutely not," cried Lily, obviously a little stressed out and taking her daughter's joking too seriously. She scanned the crowds, presumably for familiar faces, and Draco took the opportunity to give Sarah a quick reassuring glance which she returned; they were in this together after all.

Next through were Harry and a rather ruffled looking Parvati Patil. Once they had recovered their balance, they both graced Draco with a particularly scathing look, then walked off.

Finally came James Potter, Sirius Black and Remus Lupin. They tumbled through with an air of confidence at having preformed the task many times and grinned broadly as they brushed down their clothes and looked up at the train.

"God - it's as magnificent, as always," said James.

"Seems smaller," said Sirius, almost offended. "And look at all these people - there never used to be this many before."

"Bless you Sirius," was all James said to his best friend as he laid a strong hand on his shoulder and continued to marvel.

Remus was round eyed and had his hands in his pockets. "Seems odd without..."

"Yeah," said James, knowing what Remus was going to say. "I guess it's just the three of us now."

The remaining marauders looked solemn, and Draco turned his gaze from them. It wasn't his fault that the fourth marauder, Peter Pettigrew, had turned out be a traitor, but he was the one to break the news to them after Harry's outburst last November, and he felt...responsible.

Ha! thought Draco, Harry. It wasn't really Harry though, was it? Not the Harry from this world at any rate. Lily was fussing and started to herd the group towards the nearest entrance to the train, calling for Harry and Parvati to come and say goodbye to them. Draco kept his distance as the Heir of Gryffindor kissed his mother goodbye, and had to bite his lip to subdue the anger bubbling up inside himself.

He had talked at some length on the subject with Sirius, and had eventually learnt to accept that the Potter he was left with was not the one who had travelled through Germany with, who had effectively changed his life. No - this was the selfish, arrogant little schmuck that he'd gone to school with, and during the summer he had made it quite clear to Draco that no matter what his actions were during his absence, he would never be trusted, never be forgiven.

Draco felt betrayed. There was no other way to put it. The Harry he had met, really got to know, was the day to Potter's night. He accepted Draco's attempt at redemption, and, he believed, valued him as a friend when they last spoke. A real friend was something Draco had never really had before. He would never forget the rebuff he received from this world's Harry when they had met again for the first time after Germany. It had been at the discussion of Draco's living arrangement with Sirius at Malfoy Manor (why Potter had even come Draco still didn't know); he had almost not recognised Harry as he stood sulkily in their drawing room, arms crossed as he stood behind his Godfather's shoulder, emanating hate and mistrust. Even after Sirius had explained about the Alternate Reality it had taken Draco a good deal of time to shake that memory from his mind.

Of course, only those closest to the situation knew the truth; that there had been two Harrys. Their relationship was just another thing that people would be talking about now that school was back in session. Draco felt he might have refused to come back at all - too many confusing and troubling memories for everyone concerned - if it hadn't have been for Hermione.

Hermione! he thought with a rush; was she already here? Having deposited his heavy trunk (emblazoned with the Malfoy crest still), he said a heartfelt, but speedy goodbye to the party of well wishers. Lily told him to stay out of trouble, just as his own mother used to do, Remus shook his hand, as did James, who was the coolest of the group; leaning more towards Harry's view as he did that, after all, Draco was still a Malfoy, and caution should therefore be taken. The blond boy didn't mind though, as he received a bear hug from Sirius who told him not to take any crap from anyone; he'd made the right choice, and now the hard part was sticking by it. The affection in his words bought a sort of cold lump to Draco's throat; he wasn't used to the idea that he was allowed to show any kind of emotion after so many years living with his father, so brushed the feeling aside and thanked Sirius for all his hard work and consideration.

The final whistle blew, and the train jugged forwards, slowly gaining speed. Draco stood with Sarah and waved the people on the platform goodbye until they were out of sight. The young girl sighed, and dropped her hand by her side. "I guess that's it then," she said flatly. Draco nodded, but couldn't think of anything to say in response. "Erm-" said Sarah after a moment or two, "is it okay if I go and find Harry?" she asked Draco.

He couldn't help but smile. "Of course you can," he said, "I'm going to go find a friend anyway - I'll see you later." And with that they went their different ways.

***

It wasn't easy for Draco on the train. Any pure bloods from the fourth year up remembered his face and what he'd done four years ago to the school, and many of them were making damn sure Draco was going to remember as well. He couldn't really blame them, the things they were talking about were true after all, but it didn't make it any easier on him.

He kept his head down as he walked along the corridor, only looking up to check who was in each compartment as he came to them. He passed Harry, Parvati and Sarah about mid-way; they were deep in conversation and thankfully did not notice the blond boy as he made his way past.

There were a number of rather intimidated first years and muggle-borns wondering curiously about the place as well as Draco, and with the Indian summer rays beating down it was very hot in the carriages by mid-day. Draco still had not found Hermione, even though he had trekked through the entire train. Despondent, he began making his way back towards the front, when he heard someone call his name from behind.

Hermione Granger was walking towards him, her brand new Hogwarts robes billowing behind her. "Draco!" she said happily, "I've been looking all over for you." Draco though didn't say anything in response; he was a little distracted by her appearance.

The last time they had met, the muggle-born witch had been covered in muck, sweat and blood, clothes torn, hair awry and scared out of her wits. Now, her clothes and person were immaculately clean, her face was bright, and her hair was beautifully sleek and styled. He thought she was even wearing make-up. She reached him and raised her eyebrows, a little unsure at why he hadn't responded in any way. Recovering in true Malfoy style he ran his hand though his fine blond hair and said casually, "well look at you."

Hermione beamed. "You're not looking too shabby yourself - shall we go sit down?" Draco held out his arm like the gentleman that he was, and the two walked the short distance to the compartment she had to herself.

It was slightly awkward as they sat facing each other, and after a moment or two of being unsure what to say, Hermione started distractedly stroking a rather ugly ginger tabby-cat in a cage on the seat next to her. Draco, however, could never be doing with awkward silences, so lent on his knees and thought of something to say.

"How was school?" he asked, knowing she'd want to talk endlessly about it; she had done so in her letters at any rate.

"Oh it was just amazing!" cried Hermione, predictably excited by the question. "I met so many people, and the work was so interesting - way better than maths and science." Draco grinned.

Not long after both he and Hermione had realised that the Harry they knew was gone, they had casually started exchanging letters. Initially, it was just a case of Draco sending an owl to check she was okay after everything that had happened, knowing she would have no one else to talk to about it, but they had kept in steady contact ever since. It had made both of them feel a Hell of a lot better starting at Hogwarts knowing there would be a friendly face when they got there.

Hermione though, like all the muggle-born students that had accepted their place at Hogwarts after being told the truth, had had to attend summer school in London in an attempt to catch up. Draco knew from her letters that Hermione had had little trouble mastering the basics and beyond, and was more than ready to join in with her fellow sixth years this term. After all, Draco himself had had very little education since the close of the school three years ago, apart from in the dark arts of course, and people like Harry had been taught by their parents. There was a general consensus amongst the faculty that time would be taken to bring every one up to standard, and exams would not be worried about for the time being.

"Lavender took me shopping last week," said Hermione, trying to sound casual. Draco guessed she was talking about Lavender Brown - another muggle-born witch she had met in London. "She - uh, well kind of dragged me to the hairdresser and then through every single boutique she could find until we ran out of money."

Draco laughed. "I can tell," he said cheerfully, "you look great - the hair's completely different."

"Thank God," said Hermione, "the way I had it before was bad enough to break combs."

"Oh - I don't know," said Draco without pausing, "I thought it had quite an appealing rugged look." Hermione flushed slightly, but Draco didn't even blink; he was always brutally honest when it came to appearances.

***

The two talked at length until the train pulled into Hogsmeade Station. Draco flinched only slightly as the carriage jolted to a stop in the wizarding village, then stood elegantly up, brushing creases from his clothes rather than show any significant sign of nervousness. Hermione scooped up her new cat, Crookshanks, and peered out the window. "Should we get out?" she asked timidly.

Draco nodded. "We have to find the horse drawn carts...though, as I remember it, there aren't actually any horses."

Hermione arched one eyebrow apprehensively, and the pair slowly made their way off the train amongst all the other students doing the same thing. A booming voice Draco vaguely remembered as the grounds' keeper Hagrid was sounding out, telling the first years to go in one direction, the rest of the student body in another.

Hermione and Draco followed the swathe of students as they made their way to the carriages Draco had mentioned, but he, along with a number of other students, was rather shocked when he got there. The aging coaches, who's harnesses were normally suspended mid-air, were now each stood behind a sort of horse, except they were like no horse Draco had ever seen before. As far as he could tell these beasts were barely more than skin and bones; their coats were leathery looking and jet black all over, which only made their gleaming red eyes even more eerie. And then there were the wings stretched out to a great expanse, arching straight from the creatures' backs.

"What the Hell are those?" Draco breathed softly. It was an odd sight to behold; about a third of the student body were looking in apprehension at the demon horses before them; the rest were looking in apprehension back at the scared students.

"I thought you said there were no horses?" asked Hermione, confused.

"What are they?" said another girl near by, who Draco half remembered from Germany. There was a rather disgusted sound from their left, and Harry Potter pushed through the crowd towards the coaches.

"They're called Thestrals," he called out, just loud enough so most people around could hear him clearly. "You can only see them if you've seen someone die." And with that, he and Parvati ascended the steps, slamming their compartment door behind them shut.

Hermione gave a little shudder as people around them started talking once more and walking up to their own carriages; after all, if Harry Potter had done it, it must be safe enough? Draco let out a slow intake of breath and held his tongue. He couldn't help but feel that Potter's statement had been aimed directly at himself. He couldn't be bothered to ponder on it though, so he and Hermione chose a carriage and boarded it, soon to be followed by Draco's old friend Blaise Zabini and her younger brother, Armand.

They were quiet on the journey to the castle, thinking about numerous things. Draco himself was wondering whether or not Potter had seen the Thestrals; did it count that other Harry had been in Germany and not technically him? The only sound at all was when they rounded the corner from Hogsmeade, and there suddenly in the twilight was Hogwarts school of Witchcraft and Wizardry in all its splendour. Hermione couldn't help but cry out in awe at the incredible sight, and Armand, who had never seen the school before either, gave a similar exclamation.

At the front steps, all the students (and there were a great many of them) piled out to form a crowd in front of one of the old teachers. It took Draco a moment to remember her as Professor McGonagall, the deputy headmistress, which he then informed Hermione of.

"Good evening!" the older witch called out to the quietened down student body, "and welcome to Hogwarts. As you may well know, this year will be rather different than any previous ones for those who remember them. As per usual, we shall start with the Sorting ceremony, which divides students into one of the four houses of Ravenclaw, Hufflepuff, Slytherin or Gryffindor. However, this year it will be necessary to sort all students, not just first years. You will please be patient during this very important process and give all other students the respect they deserve. I will ask you now to separate into your year groups - second years at the front, seventh years at the back." She indicated where people should stand and then watched as the pupils arranged themselves accordingly.

Draco felt a sliver of nerves ripple down in his stomach. He assumed only new students would be sorted, and old ones would simply return to their old houses. He wasn't to keen on everyone watching him, 'the traitor', being publicly put back into the house renowned for it's dark magic; Slytherin.

He didn't say any of this though. He just gave Hermione a small smile as they slid into their place in the rather fat line that was developing. He had explained to her about Hogwarts' four houses in one of their letters, and assumed she would be an ideal candidate for Ravenclaw, but hadn't said this directly to her as he knew she would worry about such things.

They were eventually ready, and McGonagall, satisfied, turned on her heels and began leading them through the entrance hall into the Great Hall. There were four enormous tables laid before them and the first years were already there waiting nervously. The deputy headmistress organised the students into seven lines, dividing the year groups, then walked over to a stool with a patched and tattered hat sitting on it. The Sorting Hat, Draco thought with slight apprehension, before the old Malfoy reserve kicked back in. C'est la vie, he thought scornfully to himself; that was just the way it was, and if he thought about it, things could be a Hell of a lot worse than ending back up in Slytherin, so get over it.

Hermione was staring at the ceiling as the lazy summer evening blew by. "It's enchanted to look like the sky outside, isn't it?" she asked Draco quietly. He nodded in response, and she smiled a little broader. "I read about it, in Hogwarts, A History."

The Sorting ceremony took quite some time, just as McGonagall had suggested it would. But Draco found he wasn't actually that bored; it was quite interesting to watch all the new students being divided into the four houses. Halfway through the second years he began trying to guess which student would end up where as they stepped up to the stool and put the oversized hat on their heads. By the forth years, he was actually getting pretty good at it.

It came to the turn of the sixth years, and although the deputy headmistress' voice was growing slightly horse from reading name after name from the long roll of parchment she held in her hands, the enthusiasm from the houses was growing with their increasing numbers. Every time someone was allocated to a house, that particular table would erupt in cheers, house loyalty already being fiercely built upon.

The first girl to be called was Lavender Brown, Hermione's friend from summer school. She had the hat on her head for almost an entire minute before the frayed old thing called "GRYFFINDOR!" to the crowds. The table on their left burst into applause, and Draco could see Sarah Potter, who had already been placed into that house, cheering just as loudly as the rest of them.

There were a fair number of students to be called before Hermione finally took her place on the stool, and Draco was more than a little surprised when the hat cried out "Gryffindor!" once again shortly after she had placed it on her head. He managed a few half-hearted claps as she took her place, but stopped quite quickly with the frustrating thought that Gryffindors and Slytherins were renowned for their foul relationship together; he was fairly certain as Hermione was congratulated by Lavender that their friendship had been put to a premature end.

"Macintosh, Richard," was called and sorted into Ravenclaw, where he was congratulated by Terry Boot and another boy Draco either didn't recognise or couldn't remember, and then it was Draco's turn himself. With a resolute intake of breath, the young man looked straight ahead at the hat, ignoring the looks he was getting form various other students, stepped out of line, and went to face his judgment.

"Ah, Mr Malfoy," said the familiar wheezy voice as Draco slipped the hat over his head; it was definitely smaller than before, he thought, as now it barely covered his eyes. In his nervousness he didn't stop to rationalise that it might have been him who had grown, and not in fact the hat that had shrunk.

After a short while, Draco honestly began to wonder if the hat was actually broken it had been silent for so long, but after another moment or two it perked up once more. "Well this is interesting," it muttered, "very...well yes - very surprising. I see plenty of determination and gusto, a need for appearances and also pride...but then there's...well..."

"What?" Draco couldn't help but whisper, "what's bothering you?" He was getting agitated by sitting there so long, fully aware that everyone would be looking at him.

"I guess you would call it...courage," said the hat, "a sense of morality."

"Courage?" repeated Draco before he could help himself, but it was too late. The hat opened its brim and shouted as loudly as it could;

"The best place for you seems to be GRYFFINDOR! "

About two thirds of the table by the red and gold banners burst into applause to welcome their new house member, and a good half of the remaining students clapped politely as well. But there were a number of pupils, who like Draco himself, were stunned into complete silence.

The hat was taken off his head by the deputy head, who was smiling curiously at Draco. "W-what?" he managed to stammer to the professor. "I'm in...what?"

But McGonagall only smiled further. "Master Malfoy," she said quietly, "it is important to remember that the hat looks at who you are, and not what your name is. Now if you would kindly take your seat, we can continue."

Slightly flummoxed, by Malfoy standards at any rate, Draco left the stool and walked not to the right, but the left of the Hall to join the Gryffindors sitting there. Hermione was thrilled and gave him a huge hug as he lowered himself into a seat; but as she threw her arms around his neck and squealed, Draco got a perfect view of Parvati and Harry, standing side by side waiting to be sorted, looking murderously in his direction. Draco gave them half a sheepish smile, before turning away from them. After a time, they were both sorted back into Gryffindor as expected, but sat far away from the former Slytherin, and thankfully did not speak to him the entire evening.

***

The first week of term went by rather uneventfully when Draco thought about it. Of course it was very, very odd going back to the Gryffindor dorms after classes and not the Slytherin dungeon (as he had actually found himself doing on more than one occasion.) Apparently old habits really did die hard. Classes were slightly changed; Snape no longer taught Potions as he was still working for the Order of the Phoenix (much to Sirius' disgust Draco remembered with a smile), so instead they were taught by a witch called Professor Haines, who was actually very good, thought Draco. Hermione of course, was keeping up remarkably well; possibly even better than Draco himself, though he couldn't bring himself to say it, not even to her. Defence Against the Dark Arts was taught by a Professor Bashir, after it had been revealed that Professor Quirrell had secretly been working for Voldemort for years. Remus had been offered the job, but he hadn't wanted it for the same reason as Snape. Herbology and Ancient Ruins had also been assigned new teachers to the ones Draco remembered, as the former teachers had unfortunately died in the war, and Care of Magical creatures had been cancelled all together as a suitable replacement had not been found after Professor Kettleburn's retirement.

Half of Gryffindor's lessons were with Slytherin, which was very confusing for Draco in many ways. Luckily he had Hermione to help him, and he had also become quite friendly with a muggle born named Dean Thomas. Draco had known quite a lot about the boy before they had even met because of his training with the Deatheaters, but he hadn't let Dean know that. Harry and Parvati were going out of their way to ignore Draco, and were also trying to persuade Dean and Lavender to do the same; both students had thankfully, for Draco, chosen not to take sides and were friendly with all.

Draco spent the majority of his time with Hermione. They studied together and sat together in most classes; he helped her to understand the wizarding world, she helped him with his homework. They were interested in many of the same things and both spoke fluent French. Even though they had been in constant contact over the summer, it was only really now they were getting to know each other, starting to appreciate just how similar they really were.

It was therefore not so surprising that when Draco ascended the staircase up to the top of the North Astronomy Tower on their first Saturday night, who should be up there already but Hermione herself. She did however jump out of her skin when Draco pushed the heavy oak door to and made it creak loudly. She clutched her heart as Draco too jumped back, and she hissed with half a smile; "what on Earth are you doing here?"

After taking a moment to compose himself, Draco smiled back. "I was going to ask you the same thing," he replied evenly as he shut the door and walked over to the ledge his housemate was leaning on. The night was cooler than previous ones, and their breath was escaping from their mouths as soft, thin wisps of smoke. Draco let a small laugh fall from his lips, accompanied by a misty breath, and lent on the cold stone edge of the wall. The view over the school grounds was truly magnificent from up here, he thought; how I've missed this sight.

Hermione pretended to scowl. "I asked you first," she prompted with a trace of a smirk. "You're not stalking me are you?"

Draco really did laugh at this. "I didn't even know that anyone else knew how to get up to this particular window ledge without getting caught," he mused.

"I found it on my second night," Hermione replied smugly. Draco shook his head.

"You do know it's against school rules to be wandering around at night?" he told her.

"Yes," said the muggle born girl, "but...I don't intend to get caught."

"As opposed to the people that do?"

"Oh shut up," she snapped, good humouredly at him. "Anyway - what are you doing here then?"

Draco took a moment to absorb the breath-taking sight unfurling before him; the lake glinting in the half moon, the forest swaying in the midnight breeze, fire-fairies flittering along in front of them, the giant squid lounging lazily in the watery depths. "This was my favourite hiding place when I was here at Hogwarts before," Draco told Hermione, admitting what he'd never told anyone before in his life. "Here, I could...escape everything...everyone..." he tailed, off looking into the distance.

"Your father," she filled in for him, sadness evident in her voice.

He sighed and gave half a nod. "I used to spend hours up here at night - sometimes day too - lost in my thoughts. How odd you should end up here too." Hermione shrugged her shoulders and lent beside the former Slytherin.

"I've ended up many places this past week," she admitted, "almost like I'm being drawn to them. But this - this just happens to be my favourite." She looked at Draco to see his response, but he was staring over the horizon, or what was visible of it in the gloom. She decided to pretend that she had never looked at him at all, and instead gazed back over the grounds. "It's beautiful, it's it?" she carried on. What she didn't notice was that as soon as her head was turned, Draco's icy grey eyes slipped onto her features, and watched her elegant bow mouth as she spoke.

"Yes...it is," he murmured, deftly raising a hand and sweeping a lock of chocolaty brown hair aside from her face. Frowning slightly, she turned and looked at him once more; this time his eyes never faltered. He cocked his head slightly and lowered his eyes. "I never knew you," he whispered, "all those years...I knew your name...but..." his words faded as Hermione's frown increased, and then gradually faded as she took his raised hand.

"I don't think anyone knows you," she said softly, "not really."

Draco allowed himself a proper smile. "You do," he said simply, then lent slowly over in the darkness, and kissed her gently on the lips.

***

Sunday morning was a rather amusing affair...of course depending on who's point of view you were looking from. Draco, for example, thoroughly enjoyed waltzing down to breakfast as if nothing had changed in his world, casually sitting opposite Hermione, who was acting likewise, then watch in glee as he nonchalantly slid his leather boot up her calf and made her drop her pumpkin juice into her porridge in shock. Lavender Brown, always up on the gossip, instantly noticed the change in dynamic between the two, and within about three minutes of their arrival had spun round and whispered the fact to both Mandy Brocklehurst from Ravenclaw and Hannah Abbot from Hufflepuff. Naturally, it took a further four minutes for it to race around the rest of the entire student body. Dean Thomas noticed absolutely nothing as he was engrossed the back section of a muggle paper his mother had sent him all about football and other such sporting news. He quickly paid attention after a quick jab in the ribs from Sarah Potter as the former Slytherin and Muggle Born prodigy pointedly ignored each other in the most obvious of fashions and pupils hissed rumours that spread like fire on oil: "Draco Malfoy and a muggle born?"

However, for as many people who were enjoying the scandalous new romance, there were those such as Harry Potter, Parvati Patil and Terry Boot who held Draco Malfoy in the lowest of regards. The three Wizard Born students were only the tip of the iceberg with regards to those who remembered the traitorous little Draco Malfoy, and loathed him even further with this seemingly new development of happiness.

It was therefore not so much of a surprise to discover the three students sitting together that Sunday afternoon in one of the empty Transfiguration classrooms; two sitting watching the other pace in the most furious of manners.

"He's like some...bloody little prince," fumed Harry as he made another round of the deserted classroom. "Just pitching up here, like he owns the place...coming into Gryffindor for God's sake! I told my parents about it - my mother was pleased, and so was Sirius - it's a disgrace! And all the Muggle Borns seem to love him, 'Draco's so cute, Draco's so this, Draco's so that' - do these people have no memory?" he demanded to Parvati and Terry listening aptly to his rants. "This boy's a traitor!"

Terry nodded. "We know Harry; there are those who haven't just forgotten the past decade or so - but a lot of these people don't - they weren't there, they don't know anything, not really-"

But he was interrupted by Harry with a fervoured shaking of the head. " But...he isn't living in your house!" cried the young Gryffindor in frustration, his train of thought wandering sporadically. "He hasn't been adopted by your Godfather! He's a snake he's a worm, he's-"

But Parvati and Terry would have to wait to find out what else Draco Malfoy was, for a that exact moment, Hermione Granger walked through the big oak doors. It was hard to tell who was the most shocked.

"What," said Harry coolly, as the door swung slowly shut after Hermione had stepped through, "are you doing here?" The was a tense silence as Hermione looked from one accusing face to another.

"Erm...I was just walking...after lunch," she began to explain, "and I was sort of...drawn here..." She tailed off, knowing she sounded lame, and her gaze fell to her shoes.

"Really," said Parvati nastily. "Are you sure you're not eavesdropping for your new boyfriend?"

Hermione was genuinely surprised at this remark. "I'm not...I'm not spying for anyone," she spluttered. "I swear I was just walking and..."

"Yeah yeah," said Terry, cutting her short, "we heard...but, still, odd none the less, hey?"

Hermione looked apprehensively at the group before her. Deciding they were too much of a challenge, she chose instead to focus solely on Harry before her. "I know you don't like Draco or I," she began, "but we really are sorry for what happened last November, and we..."

"'We' what?" Harry snapped, "you're sorry about Seamus?" he mocked, "or sorry that your precious Harry departed right after causing anarchy in my life?" He folded his arms and waited for a response. Hermione's mouth formed a straight line as the anger started to bubble out of her.

Terry Boot looked from Harry to Hermione. "Err...what?" he said simply, but he was granted no response.

"What happened was neither mine, Draco's or Harry's fault Potter, so just get over it!" Hermione snapped, taking a pace or two closer to where Harry stood. "We are all truly sorry, but the person you should be blaming isn't us, or even yourself, it's Lord Voldemort and all his followers, so just give it a rest!"

Everyone in the room winced with Hermione's unflinching use of You-Know-Who's name. Harry stepped towards Hermione, clenching his fists; Terry looked even more confused and said "but...who's...Harry's right here?"

"You stole my life, Granger," said Harry very close to her face. "You, Malfoy and...him. I'm gone for one day and you ruin everything - you run off to Germany, endanger my sister and kill my best friend! Do you think I'm bothered that you're upset, that you're feeling sad?! Funnily enough, I'm bothered that Seamus is dead, that everywhere I go people stare at the ugly great scar slap bang in the middle of my forehead, that I have a Malfoy living in my house! A Malfoy! But that's not even the half of what bothers me the most," he hissed dangerously, making Hermione step backwards, a look of sensible apprehension on her face. Parvati was standing with Terry next to her; both (especially Terry, who was quite clueless as to what was really going on) were quite stunned at their friend's outburst, and were looking worriedly on, wondering what was going to happen next.

Harry himself was almost dizzy, almost blind with rage as all the things he had had to keep bottled up for close to a year came spilling out of him in uncontrolled anger, frustration and grief at this stupid, ignorant little muggle born girl. He didn't even hesitate as he told all of them what he swore he would never tell anyone.

"He...he...you don't...I have dreams!" he yelled, "nightmares about all the horrendous things that...that - boy has seen. I see death, I see suffering, pain, loss, grief - he torments me! He ruined my life and he's still tormenting me! I hate him! I HATE HIM!"

Hermione, who had backed back into the door by now, was quite certain this terrible rant would have continued for much longer, had there not been a tremendous crack of thunder and lightening, right outside the window.

All four of the students, spun on their heals and looked out the glass in shock; the tumultuous storm had seemingly appeared out of nowhere. Harry was panting from the adrenalin of his outburst. Parvati looked spooked, but Hermione's eyes flew wide open.

"Harry," she said urgently, "Harry listen to me - you have to calm down - this is what happened - exactly what happened before - Harry told me - you have to ca-" but she got no further.

"Calm down!" he yelled, "who the Hell do you think you are! You and him...just - you don't know - YOU DON'T KNOW ANYTHING!"

On his words there was a deafening blast of thunder, a blinding flash of lightening, and the walls of the castle shook to their foundations. The sound of glass shattering filled the air, and the four students fell to the floor.

"What the Hell was that?" asked Terry Boot to the others lying stunned next to him on the floor.

***

Draco turned round as the door to the old History of Magic classroom gingerly opened. "Oh - sorry!" cried Sarah Potter, "I didn't realise Draco, I'm sorry - I'll let you be."

"No - it's fine," he called as she started to close the door again. "You can stay." Sarah peeked her head round the door..

"You sure?"

Draco smiled. "Of course," he said as she walked into the room. "I feel like we haven't spoken for a week."

"Well - that's coz we haven't," said Sarah with a sheepish grin.

Draco returned the look and leant back against the window sill he was gazing out of. "Your brother makes his feelings pretty clear doesn't he - I don't blame you for not wanting to make him more pissed off than he already is."

Sarah sighed and joined him by the sill. "I know it wasn't...y'know, him in Germany - I know it, I just don't really understand it. He's changed so much now."

Draco couldn't help but smirk. "I don't know," he said tartily, "I seem to remember him being a right arrogant little-"

"Draco!" snapped Sarah sternly. "He is still my brother," she cried, "and you weren't exactly a knight in shining armour when you two were at school together now were you?"

Her words stung and Draco instantly regretted putting her in a compromising position. "I'm sorry Sarah," he said after a second or two of weighted silence. "I didn't mean to put you between your brother and I...it's just," he tried to explain, "I miss Harry. He meant a lot to me - he was the central part of the epiphany of my life - he was probably my first true friend, and then he was whisked away and I feel kind of..." the young man trailed off, realising he was whining about his feelings again, and dignity simply wouldn't stand for it.

"So - how come you're...here?" he asked, changing the subject and indicating the empty room they were sitting in.

Sarah looked slightly sheepish again, but also confused. "I...don't know," she admitted. "I've found my self wandering about the castle - at night especially when I can't sleep. I've being walking purposely though - ending up at specific destinations - or so they feel. There's a looked door on the third floor corridor, that girl's bathroom haunted by a rather noisy ghost, the ground keeper's pumpkin patch, the Quidditch pitch. I get there like I'm meeting someone - you know the feeling, but then there's nothing. After a while I just leave - it's odd." She shifted her weight on the sill. "This classroom's the strongest though, I end up here almost every night." She looked at Draco, who was staring intently out of the window. "What do you think?"

He stirred from his reverie and looked back at her. "I think the same thing's been happening to me," he said, "and possibly Hermione. "I think there's something going on, but I'm not sure what. I don't know how these locations are linked, but I know they are. I'm also pretty sure there's something significant about this room in particular - but I can't remember what it is for the life of me." He sighed and rubbed his eyes.

"Whoa!" cried Sarah loudly, and Draco snapped his silvery eyes open to follow her gaze. Out the window there was the most spectacular fork of lightening, followed by a huge clap of thunder. Draco frowned.

"We had clear skies a minute ago," he said concerned. The storm outside seemed to flail and whip itself into a tempest within seconds, accompanied by further bursts of thunder and lightening. Draco stepped down and moved away from the window, taking Sarah with him. "Perhaps," he said, trying to stay calm so as not to alarm Sarah unnecessarily, "we should-" but he was interrupted before he could finish.

With a thunder clap to dwarf all others, and a dazzling flash of lightening, the ground shook underneath their feet, and the glass of the window in front of them shattered.

And then their whole world went dark.