Of Death Eaters and Dreams

    The dungeons of Malfoy Manor were dark, cast in cold shadows that stretched from black corners, icy fingers stretching to grasp each other and make their darkness complete. They were silent, save for the incessant chant of time, weaving through the ancient stone walls, struggling to be heard by ears that were not there. A musty stench of rot and decay filled the air, an essence of time and memory, trapped and corrupted by the plague of years gone by.

    Draco stood in the middle of the dungeon, his silver eyes shifting around the shadows, seeing nothing but stone upon stone, stacked up to meet the same grey, stone ceiling high overhead.

    Something flickered. Not light, but almost like a ghost, just flicking into view, then fading on the edge of sight. There, again. Draco strained to see through the thick shadows, his eyes unable to penetrate the dark.

    There, in the corner. Draco stepped forward, squinting hard to see what lay before him. The shape was still there, but unrecognizable to his eyes. But yet... It was so familiar...

    Draco was getting wary. He stepped closer, breathing in the foul air, preparing to speak. He opened his mouth...

    And woke up with a jolt.

    Draco sat up, paralyzed with fear, his dream rushing back into his mind. Images from the dream flicked back into his mind, the shadows, the stones, the figure... The figure. Who? One of Father’s victims? Draco relaxed, laying back down. He searched his brain, straining to remember the image, but it was no use. The dream was fading, almost meaningless to him.

    Draco pulled back the heavy green curtains of his four-poster bed, surprised to see sunlight streaming in through the high, narrow windows. Crabbe and Goyle’s beds were empty, neatly made with the curtains fastened back by silver rope. Draco quickly dressed, pulling on his school uniform and wishing for Muggle clothing instead. He had taken a liking to Muggle clothes over the summer, even though his father disapproved.

    ‘Draco, don’t wear those foolish things,’ Lucius had snapped, ‘You look like a damn Mudblood.’

    ‘I can dress the way I want,’ Draco had retorted, ‘Don’t talk to me.’

    Draco smiled, remembering how angry his father had been, and the fight that ensued. He loved making Lucius mad; It was fun, and, he had to admit, really easy.

    Draco paused in front of the mirror and contemplated what to do with his hair. Over the summer, he had stopped slicking his hair back, instead letting in fall forward in a natural style. He grinned, liking the way he looked. He winked at his reflection, which winked back, and left the dormitory, heading for the dining hall.

     * * *

    Hermione woke early, startled out of a peaceful sleep by Crookshanks jumping onto her stomach.

    ‘Oh, Crookshanks...’ Hermione mumbled, rolling over and burying her head under the soft feather pillow. The cat walked leisurely along the bed, before finally curling up on Hermione’s back which, to Hermione, was immensely uncomfortable.

    She rolled over and sat up, almost knocking Crookshanks off the bed. He let out a loud yowl of protest and strutted to the end of the bed, and lay back down with one amber eye open, glaring at Hermione.

    ‘Oh, don’t glare at me,’ Hermione grumbled, crossing her legs and pulling the blankets over her lap. ‘It’s not my fault you woke me up early.’ She reached over and petted the ginger cat, provoking a loud, scratchy purr.

    Hermione stretched and climbed out of her bed, pulling on a large bathrobe over her pyjamas. Seeing that none of the other fifth-year girls were awake, Hermione made her way to the girls’ showers and was pleased to find no one else there. Hermione loved the Hogwarts’ showers; the water never got cold or ran out, unlike Muggle showers. She turned on the taps and stepped into the spray, letting the water wash away her drowsiness. She turned to a set of five taps on the wall, all with different coloured pump-buttons above. Hermione pumped out some green shampoo, that cracked and fizzed in her hands like electricity. It was a new shampoo on the wizarding market, Sleek-E-zee, that she had bought, on a whim, during the annual week her family spent in Diagon Alley buying school supplies. It made her static-filled, bushy hair stay soft, shiny, and fall in little ringlets and waves down her shoulders. Hermione had been worried that Hogwarts wouldn’t include it in the shampoo selection, which would mean her hair would go back to its usual bushy appearance. The shampoo made her scalp tickle, like her brain was being charged with electricity. It was a pleasant feeling, but Hermione was always glad when it stopped, because the tickling sensation was almost unbearable.

    Hermione finished her shower and wrapped herself in a crimson towel, emblazoned with a gold-stitched lion, throwing on her bathrobe overtop. Grabbing her pyjamas, she sprinted out of the showers and into the common room, and ran headlong into Ron.

    ‘Ow!’ The two Gryffindors collided, sending Hermione’s pyjamas flying into the air. Ron sprawled on the floor, rubbing his eyes and looking up at Hermione.

    She smiled, surprised to see her friend up so early ‘Ron, you’re up early.’ Hermione fixed him with a knowing look. ‘Homework?’

    Ron nodded, blushing as he handed Hermione her pyjama top. ‘Charms assignment. I’ve been up for about an hour now.’ Hermione gave him another look. ‘No need to ask where you were, though.’

    Hermione grinned. ‘No one else is up. Crookshanks woke me early, so I thought I’d make the best of it.’

    Ron retrieved a pair of pyjama pants from the floor, handing them to Hermione. ‘They’ll be starting breakfast soon. I’ll get Harry and then we’ll go down, OK?’

    Hermione made a slight face, and thought for a second. ‘No, Ron, you two go ahead. I’ll meet you down there an a bit.’

    Ron agreed, and Hermione headed back up to her dormitory, careful to watch for anyone else. Parvati and Lavender were awake already, dressed and applying liberal amounts of makeup. They greeted Hermione, and soon left for the Great Hall.

    Hermione looked carefully at herself in the tiny wall mirror, and then brushed her hair quickly with her fingers, deciding to skip attempting to style it today. She pulled on a school uniform and robe, and then paused to apply a little lip gloss and mascara that she had borrowed from Parvati earlier that week. Hermione didn’t like wearing much makeup, but took a liking to these two items after finally agreeing to let Lavender and Parvati put makeup on her the week before.

    Quickly Hermione hung her wet towels near the fire to dry, and made her bed. Even though she had abandoned SPEW the year before, Hermione still didn’t like creating more work for the House-elves than they already had.

    After cleaning up a bit, Hermione made her way to the Great Hall, where Harry and Ron sat waiting at the Gryffindor table. They waved her over, looking anxious and amused.

    Hermione sank into a seat across from the two boys, looking from one to the other. ‘What’s wrong? You two look... strange.’ She started loading eggs and toast onto her plate, taking a sip of pumpkin juice from her goblet.

    Harry grinned and said, ‘Not much. Our best mate Malfoy’s back at school, though.’

    Hermione nodded and began eating. ‘Oh, I know,’ She said through a mouthful of toast. ‘I, er, ran into him yesterday.’

    Ron raised an eyebrow. ‘Ran into him? How can you “run into” Malfoy?’ He put on a cheerfully fake voice. ‘Oh! Draco! Charming to run into you like that, where have you been? Oh, I’ve been so worried.’ Harry laughed, and Ron looked at his friend appreciatively before looking back at Hermione for her answer.

    Hermione grimaced. ‘Er, I, um, quite literally, ran into him.’

    Both boys burst out laughing. ‘You ran into him? And he didn’t hex you?’ Harry inquired, as soon as the laughter has subsided.

    Hermione was blushing, a delicate shade of pink that Ron’s ears often turned. ‘I was rounding a corner, on my way to the library after lunch. And he was actually quite decent, considering the way he usually acts around here.’

    Harry looked shocked. ‘Malfoy? Acting decent? I wouldn’t trust him. He’s probably just planning some dirty awful scheme to get you in trouble, I reckon.’

    ‘We have double charms with Slytherin this morning, first class. I think we should keep an eye on our friend Malfoy over there and see how he acts. He could be feeling ill.’ Ron feigned alarm.

    Hermione laughed at Ron’s mock concern and looked over at the Slytherin table, spotting Malfoy’s silver-blond hair immediately. Right then, as if planned, Malfoy looked up and his cold eyes locked with Hermione’s. She froze, expecting his cold smirk to appear any second. But just as suddenly as he has looked up, Malfoy looked away, leaving Hermione’s gaze and sweeping around the Great Hall. Hermione looked down at her plate, wondering what in the world could have changed Draco Malfoy.