Trapped in a Dream

"Ah, good, you're awake finally! Well, I must say, I didn't expect you in here so soon, but I guess accidents can happen." Madame Pomfrey was sweeping around the bed, playing with medicine bottles, and mixing potions. "You got up just in time, too! The Quidditch match is just about to start down on the pitch; if you hurry, you'll make it just in time."

Hermione felt faintly. Her world was spinning in circles, round and around, until she had to close her eyes to make the nauseating feeling leave. As soon as her eyelids had blinked shut, a set of sharp fangs, dripping with blood and saliva, flashed through her head along with someone desperately calling her name. Her eyes flew open and immediately she searched around the wing for signs of Draco - Malfoy.

She had thought his name had been said along with hospital wing while she was passing out, but maybe she was hearing things again. The thought gave her a shiver and she pulled the white sheets further up around her neck. The beast inside her was growing stronger and she knew it wouldn't be long until she lost complete control over it. She wanted - no, NEEDED - to tell someone soon before it was too late.

Madame Pomfrey noticed Hermione searching the hospital wing and stopped in mid-pour of a patient's medication. "If you're looking for Mr Malfoy, he left nearly 20 minutes ago to get ready for the big match; Slytherin vs. Gryffindor, first game of the year. It should be a good showdown with Mr Potter as the Gryffindor Seeker still. Hold on a minute, aren't you his friend, dear?"

Hermione nodded, smiling with pride at how well Harry handled himself on the Quidditch pitch, and how he had continued to do so every year since he had first attended Hogwarts. Harry knew he was famous (who didn't?), and with the new position as captain added onto his already impressive resume, Hermione was surprised he hadn't let the pressure of it all go to his head.

"Well then, you really have to get yourself down there! Can't let your best friend down by not showing up to the most important game of the season, can you?" Madame Pomfrey picked up a small bottle of fizzing green liquid and handed it to an unsure Hermione. "Take a teaspoon once a day until the bottle's all gone and you should be fitter than a Hungarian Horntail, take it you don't get yourself into any more accidents - between you and Mr Potter I don't think I'll ever get a moment's rest."

Still a little queasy, Hermione took her time getting down to the pitch, listening to the mangled cries of frustration and cheer from the students high up in the stadium. She could hear the megaphone spell projecting Jordan Lee's voice as he broadcasted the events, but it was difficult to make out just what he was saying at such a distance and it all seemed to be gibberish.

As she got closer and began walking up the steps she could hear the cheering Slytherins as Jordan announced the score 90-20 Slytherin. Hermione groaned in frustration, but by the time she was in the bleachers the score didn't matter any more. She cheered for Ron, who she had suddenly noticed had become a much better Keeper than last year, and was only letting in difficult shots that would have taken a far more experienced player to stop.

Her eyes flew higher into the skies where Harry was diving and zigzagging in search of the Snitch, followed closely by a sneering Malfoy, who had also become much wiser then the year before. He began to notice a pattern in the way Harry dropped and soon went on his own search and snatch mission on the opposite side of the pitch.

Suddenly everything became blurry.

The fans gasped and a small fluttering of wings surrounded her head, circling it as if its life depended on continuing the ritual. She shook her head of it and saw two specks coming closer, the distance between her and them closing rapidly as they sped up in a race. Everyone around her noticed what was happening and ducked out of the way, but she kept standing, star struck at the two inclosing figures.

Harry was the first to unwillingly pull out of the struggle, trying his hardest to catch a glimpse of both the Snitch and Hermione to see if she was safe and whether the game was over. Malfoy, however, sensing Harry's weakness, plunged onwards towards victory, practically feeling the Snitch's wings fluttering at his fingertips. He meant to swerve in the crowd and pull a fantastic snatch to show up Potter, but he misjudged the distance and speed he was going. He couldn't steer his broom away hard enough and before he knew it he ran straight into Hermione.

The Snitch had flown off and was nowhere to be seen.

Hermione was startled at first to be staring into Malfoy's pale raging face, his cold blue eyes glaring at her, but she quickly noticed she was hovering 50 feet in the air above ground and let out a yelp, grabbing tightly to Draco's neck. Malfoy struggled to control the broom, Hermione's hair and body movements making it hard to concentrate and let out a groan of frustration.

He grabbed one arm from his neck, controlling the broom with his other hand, and moved it down to his waist before doing the same with her other arm. He shook the broom, tilting to the side so Hermione nearly fell off, and felt a sharp downwards tug on his waist as her grip tightened. "Oh, for God's sake!" he groaned, grabbing the scruff of her cloak, and pulled her on to the broom behind him.

"What the bloody hell do you think you're doing, Granger? You're going to get us both killed!" Draco was furious with her; not only had she ruined the perfect way to get back Potter, but now she was sitting on his broom, her filthy hands touching him. He debated on whether he should just drop her, but for some reason he didn't. He had to admit, the warmth of her body was certainly keeping the cold chill of the wind off him - perhaps she wasn't worthless after all.

"How should I know? You're the one flying!' she yelled back, tears building in her eyes from both the wind and fear. "Please, just don't let me fall, Draco. I'm, I'm s-scared."

He nearly pulled the broom to a dead stop in the air. Had his name just graced the lips of a mudblood? How dare she? His anger quickly flared and subsided; Draco growled, knowing what he was about to say next would ruin him if anyone found out. "I won't let you drop, Granger, just loosen your grip so I can breathe!"

Surprised that he had accepted the challenge of taking her on, she had to trust him and she loosened her grip so that her fingers were lightly woven together around Draco's stomach. She closed her eyes tightly and braced herself against him, feeling his Quidditch robes whip in the air around her, and hoped she would survive. Slowly, she felt herself falling from the sky as the broom dipped forward and she tightened her grip a bit, but as she opened her eyes a crack, the ground came into view with everyone down on the pitch waiting for their return.