His lips were warm on hers. He nipped her bottom lip and she gasped into his mouth, giving him just the opportunity he needed; his tongue slipped into her mouth and he pulled her body tighter against his. She could feel his heart beating erratically, and knew that he could feel hers, too. He backed her up until she felt the wall against her back. His lips moved from her mouth to her cheek, and finally to her neck, his stubble scratching her skin caused a surprisingly pleasant sensation. His hands pulled her closer, and it seemed that she would never be close enough for him. As his lips moved across her skin, she slid her hands from his hair and ran them down his chest, to his sides, before she met the end of his shirt and the top of his jeans and slipped her hands up under his shirt and felt the taunt muscles of his back tremble as she ran her fingers over them.

"Hermione," he rasped, pulling away for a moment to look her in her face.

Draco had never looked more handsome as he did right then; his silver eyes bright, skin flushed, hair and clothes disheveled.

Wait.

Draco?!

Hermione gasped, and shot straight up in bed, panting and covered in sweat. Why on earth had she been dreaming about Draco? She was dating Ron, she should be dreaming about him, not some snotty git. Hermione leaned back slowly, praying she hadn't woken Ginny, until her head was resting against her pillow again. She stared at the ceiling, and counted to ten, trying to calm the pounding of her heart.

If she was being honest with herself, she'd been dreaming about Draco Malfoy for the past two years on and off, but since the war ended, he'd been haunting her dreams every night. It had been months and Hermione still found no way to block the dreams. She tried willing herself to dream about something, anything else before she went to sleep, but her mind would not cooperate. She had even studied different books hoping for some explanation as to why she had these reoccurring dreams, or even some spell or potion to stop her from having the dreams, but each search yielded nothing of value.

Every time Hermione woke from her Draco dreams, she couldn't help but think of that stupid line from one of the songs in Cinderella, "A dream is a wish your heart makes." Right. Like Hermione's heart was wishing that she could kiss Draco, that she and Draco could be together. Hermione snorted, then quickly looked across the room where Ginny lay sleeping, making sure that she hadn't woken her. More often than she would like to admit, Hermione startling awake from her dreams, not nightmares, had woken Ginny. Everyone that fought in the war had PTSD, and it wasn't uncommon for them to suffer from nightmares. Hermione also suffered from nightmares in addition to her Draco dreams, but she hated always passing them off as an effect of the PTSD. Hermione was starting to think that Ginny could tell when she was lying about her nightmares and when she was being truthful. After the war, the Weasleys had taken her and Harry in. It wasn't like she could ever go home to her own parents again, seeing as how they couldn't remember her; and since the Dursleys had moved and Harry had no desire to ever see them again, the arrangement seemed ideal.

She had never liked lying, and she felt guilty lying to Ginny about her dreams—one, because Ginny had proved to be one of her most true and loyal friends, and two, because she was dating Ron. She had been pining after Ron for years, and they were finally together, and now her stupid brain was making her fantasize about Malfoy. Even though they were just dreams, Hermione felt like she was doing something wrong.

"Urgh! Come on, Hermione! Pull yourself together!" she quietly berated herself. She vowed to herself that she was not going to let these dreams about Draco bother her anymore. Besides, she should be focusing on locating her parents and lifting the memory enchantment, not dreaming about making out with Malfoy! They were just dreams. What was it that Harry told them Dumbledore had said to him about dreams? Right. "It does not do to dwell on dreams and forget to live." So help me, Hermione thought, even if I have to start taking medication to help me calm down and sleep, I will sleep and it will be peacefully. I won't dream about Malfoy again! Finally, she was able to calm the turmoil and stress inside of her and she fell asleep.

///

Draco stared up at his ceiling, and groaned. His pulse was racing and he was breathing so hard he felt as if he'd just had to run from the dungeons to the astronomy tower at full tilt. The dreams were agonizing. He knew Hermione didn't want him, but his dreams seemed so substantial, so real. He rolled off his bed, and started pacing around his room. He knew he'd brought this on himself. If he hadn't been such a jerk, calling her a mudblood, tormenting her, and taking every opportunity to make her miserable. . . then maybe someday, he could have had a chance.

Draco raked a hand through his hair and thought back to third year. Granger, though still bookish and annoying, had started to become attractive to him. The incident that really cinched his attraction to her was when she punched him. He remembered being angry, but also shocked and rather impressed. None of his peers had ever put him in his place before, but she had full on socked him in the face, and he couldn't help but respect her after that. He wished he had courage like that when it came to his father. If only he could stand up to Lucius and let him know that he wasn't going to take abuse anymore. He spent the year after that trying to come to grips with his attraction to someone whole belonged to a class that he was raised to believe was unworthy and below him. He had still harassed her at school and still been cruel, in an attempt to squelch his feelings for her; but he quickly realized his efforts were all for naught and eventually gave up. Finally, he had begun ignoring her at school to save face, but when he was home, and especially around his father, he made out like he hated her and everyone like her, but he had already begun to see that perhaps his parents were wrong. Maybe purebloods weren't superior, maybe no one was superior.

With a sigh, he crawled back into his bed and covered his face with both hands before dragging them down his face. Just once, he'd like to go to sleep and not be plagued my dreams of Hermione or nightmares of the war. He was generally pretty moody to begin with, which typically translated to anger, but he was losing too much sleep over this, and it was making him crabbier than ever. More than anything, he didn't want to turn out like his father. He didn't want to be abusive. He was terrified that one day he would go from using his words to hurt people to using his hands, or worse, like his father. . .magic. Draco shuddered at the thought of all the spells his father had used to "discipline" him. Each day, he struggled to keep himself in check, but with the lack of sleep it was getting worse. He had never been more thankful that it was summer so he could shut himself up in his room and not have to interact with people. Part of him was thrilled that school would be starting soon, he would be around friends again, and he'd get to see Hermione, but part of him was scared that maybe this year he would take his tormenting too far. That he would snap. He knew he should ask his mother for help. Surely, she would know of some tonic or elixir he could take that would take the edge off of his aggravation, but he wanted to beat this on his own. He didn't want to have to medicate to control himself, he wanted to have a strong enough will that it wouldn't even be an issue. Draco resolved to ask his mother for help if he got any worse, but he hoped it wouldn't come to that. Draco finally fell into a fitful sleep that was sure to leave him even more exhausted in the morning, but thankfully this time he slept without dreaming.

///

Light was pouring in through the windows by the time Hermione woke up. She rolled on her side and saw that Ginny's bed was empty. Hermione groaned and buried her head in her pillow. Just how late had she slept today? Blindly reaching around, Hermione's fingers grazed her watch on the nightstand. Groggily, she dragged the watch onto the bed a lifted her face to see what time it was. Hermione could only groan when she saw that she'd slept in until ten. Well there goes most of my day down the drain, she thought. She rolled off her bed and stumbled to the bathroom to get ready for the day ahead. After a quick shower, Hermione put on her favorite blue jeans and a comfortable Henley tee. Once she was fully clothed, she brushed out her hair and braided it before brushing her teeth and heading downstairs.

As Hermione padded, down the steps, she thought about the approaching school year. She was absolutely thrilled that McGonagall had become Headmistress and was allowing everyone to make up last year at Hogwarts. Hermione pondered how the teachers would be able to handle a doubled group of first years and a double group of seventh years, but was drawn out of her reverie when she entered the kitchen of the Burrow. Everyone was sitting around the table chattering, with the exception of Molly, who was bustling around the kitchen as per usual. George was the first to notice her coming down the stairs, because he had been staring off into space in the direction of the stairs. George had been doing less laughing since Fred died, but Hermione could only imagine how it must feel to have your counterpart suddenly ripped from your life, as if they had never been there at all.

"Well look who finally decided to grace us with her presence!" George drawled, with a smirk and, surprisingly, a joking tone of voice.

"Yeah, yeah," she answered, rolling her eyes. "I slept in this one time. So sue me."

George smirked at her and she grinned back. It was good to see some of the old George resurfacing. She gazed around at the table until she saw an open seat between Harry and Ron. Slowly, she worked her way around the table and scrunched in between her two best friends and was pleased to see that there was still food on the table. Who am I kidding? There is always food on Molly Weasley's table, she thought fondly. Hermione heaped eggs and sausage on her plate and dug in, listening to the conversations around her. George was talking to Mr. Weasley about rebuilding business at the joke shop, Harry and Ginny were discussing Quidditch, and Ron being Ron was stuffing his face as usual. She stared at Ron and a slight grin tugged at the corner of her mouth. She'd spent the last few years of her life longing for Ron, and things were finally going how she hoped they would. Ron suddenly looked up at her and quirked an eyebrow at her before grinning with his lips pinched tightly together. Hermione blushed and looked down at her plate, bashfully. She could feel her cheeks warming as she blushed, and she felt ridiculous. She'd kissed Ron and now she felt bashful looking at him? Was that even normal? Oh, bother! What was normal, anyway? Hermione mused.

She had just picked up her fork to dig in to her eggs when there was a thunk and a screech. Everyone's heads shot up and they swung around to face the window. Errol had missed the open window again. Mrs. Weasley bustled over to the window and reached out to grab the clumsy owl and drag him in. Over the years, with Errol constantly crashing into things, the twins had revamped an old window box into an "owl catcher" so that when Errol inevitably hit the window and fell that it would be easier for people to collect him and bring him inside. When Mrs. Weasley got Errol through the window, they could see a bundle of letters in his grip. She yanked the bundle of letters away from him, set him in the owl catcher, and gave him some toast. Molly passed out the letters to their respective owners.

Hermione felt excitement flare up inside her as she opened her letter. She was getting one more year of education. One more year of Hogwarts. One more year of home. As much as she loved living with the Weasleys, it never felt like home. Not even living with her parents felt like home as much as Hogwarts did. When she pulled the letter from the envelope, a pin fell out into her lap. She stared down at the pin quizzically, and gently lifted it from her lap. She flipped it over and couldn't help but squeal when she read what the pin said: Head Girl. Everyone startled at her squeal.

"What is it dear?" Molly inquired.

"Head Girl. Head Girl! I'm Head Girl!" Hermione crooned.

Ron and Harry beamed with pride, knowing how Hermione had been dying to be Head Girl. Those around her congratulated her and she thanked them absentmindedly as she read her letter. The letter detailed what her classes were, what books she would need, what some of her responsibilities as Head Girl would be, and who the new professors were and what they would be teaching. Apparently, a Professor Doyal would be taking over Defense Against the Dark Arts, and a Professor Towne would be taking over History of Magic, since it seemed that Professor Binns had decided that reliving history wasn't as fulfilling as it had been when he started. Hermione was excited about the new professors, and was thrilled to be Head Girl, but she was curious who her counterpart would be. She was mulling over the possible candidates for Head Boy when she heard Harry quietly utter an, "Excellent!" Upon further inquiry, she learned that he had been chosen as Gryffindor Quidditch Captain again. Everyone around the table seemed to have some bit of good news. Molly received word that little Teddy Lupin was starting to walk around and change his hair color randomly throughout the day. Mr. Weasley got a raise, and Ginny and Ron were both chosen as Prefects. This was shaping up to be a wonderful school year as far as Hermione was concerned. There was absolutely nothing that would dampen her excitement or ruin the upcoming school year. Nothing.