"Yes, Master." Lucius Malfoy bowed. "I will see to it directly."
Draco drew back from the crack in the door he had been spying on them from. He would have to run for it, though he knew they would get him in the end. Grabbing his broomstick from where he had placed it against the stone wall, he set off into the night.
It was dark and windy and he had to hold on tightly to prevent himself from falling off or being blown off course, but eventually the huge black castle vanished from view and Draco deemed it safe to land.
He set down in a forest. The many branches and leaves made it difficult to see as he ran through the trees, clutching his broom.
"Draco?"
He stopped and turned around.
Hermione was standing there, pale as death and looking scared to it as well, wearing a black lace dress which made most of her difficult to make out in the darkness.
"Hermione!" He tried to keep his voice down. "You have to leave! They're coming for me, if they find you here they'll kill you, too!"
She looked confused. "But I love you."
He shook his head. "Why would you love me?"
She grabbed his hand and began to run, pulling him through the night, through the trees and bracken until they reached Hogsmeade and were both all scratched and bloody from branches and thorns.
They hid in the Three Broomsticks, crouching behind the bar. Hermione took off her dress to reveal a bloodstained white petticoat underneath. She tore a strip off the dress and began to bandage a particularly deep cut on his thigh.
He put his hand on hers and she stopped.
"You don't have to do this," he told her.
She smiled and kissed him. "Don't be silly," she said.
"But why-"
"Shh."
She kissed him again, a longer, more tender, kiss this time, one that felt like it could go on forever.
It didn't, because Draco's father burst in on them.
"Quick," said Draco, leaping onto his broom, "Get on!"
Hermione got on and wrapped her arms around his waist and they were off, flying out of Hogsmeade and up towards Hogwarts, over the Quidditch pitch to the changing rooms, Lucius in pursuit a mere hundred feet behind them.
Suddenly Draco lost control of the broom, barely avoided crashing into the wall, and landed on the grass in front of the castle in a most unsightly fashion.
Hermione grabbed his hand again and they ran inside, hurried along a hallway and hid under her bed.
Lucius followed and pulled the mattress off before upturning the bed and grabbing Hermione by the arm. He raised his arm, holding Draco's sword high above his head.
"Draco... I love you..."
There was the swish of the sword and a lot of blood, and then Lucius ran at Draco.
Draco ducked half-heartedly, his mind preoccupied with the question:
Why?
Lucius lunged again, screaming "Mudblood!" and Draco was confused because
he wasn't a Mudblood and Hermione was dead...
And Draco woke up, sweaty and with his heart beating a lot faster than it should have been. He took a few deep breaths and attempted to calm himself down.
Well... that was disturbing...
He was lying on the sofa in the Room of Requirement, naked, Granger half on top of him in an equal state of undress.
Huh.
He shook his head, trying to clear it of the disturbing images from the dream that kept popping up.
However, after a while he thought he realized what it meant. Well, part of it.
Something didn't make sense, and Draco didn't like it when things didn't make sense.
"Granger?"
"Mmm?"
"Why did you...?" He paused, licking his lips. " I mean, you hate me. And unless I'm very much mistaken your grandmother didn't die this time."
She looked up at him, arching her eyebrows. "First of all, Malfoy, I don't hate you. I just think you're an arrogant prat."
He smirked at this.
She ignored him, continuing: "As for the why... I suppose I just felt like it." She shrugged. "I mean, what I saw yesterday... maybe it just made me... made me not dislike you quite as much."
Draco knitted his brow, confused. "What did you see yesterday?"
"The way you were actually concerned for your Chaser. Honestly, Malfoy, I was surprised you had it in you."
Ohhh... that.
"Well," he said, "You know... take care of your own and all that..."
She seemed satisfied with this response, because she sighed and rested her head on his chest again.
So... she had read him wrong. Mentally, he shook his head.
Reading people wrong could get you killed.
Then again, Granger would most likely be killed soon anyway, with the war looming over the horizon.
Until then, however, Draco fully intended to milk this for all it was worth.
He smiled. Sex was so much better than chess.