Hermione Granger

I wake up sweating from a nightmare. I try hard to remember what it was about, but I can only see random pictures that don't make sense.

A man with red eyes who doesn't have a nose standing beside a woman with crazy black hair. Professor Snape lying dead with Harry kneeling over him. Hagrid carrying Harry's dead body. A journal with no writing in it. Neville cutting off the head of a snake. A skull with a snake coming out of it's mouth.

What do these dreams mean? I have no idea. I've been having them for years now. I can't fall back asleep, so I head for Draco's room. I was going to wait until morning, but I might as well talk to him now.

I knock on his door before I can change my mind. To my surprise, he peeks his head out.

"Hermione," says Draco, "Please come in." He opens the door wider and I blush when I see that he's shirtless.

"You're half naked!" I complain, "put a shirt on!"

Draco smirks. "Why?" He asks, "do you find me... distracting?"

I scowl at him. "Stop being a git and put a bloody shirt on!" Yes, his six pack is distracting me, but I'll never admit that to him. 

After pulling on a shirt, Draco grabs a stool for me and he sits down on his bed. "So," he says, "What do you want?"

Where to begin? Am I actually going to do this? Yes, I am. "I wanted to say I'm sorry for how I treated you yesterday, even though you deserved it. I want to try being friends." 

"You just couldn't resist me, could you?" That smirk is so annoying! But cute. Wait, did I just say that? I didn't mean to say that. Bloody hell. At least I didn't say it out loud. 

"Shove off, Malfoy."

He looks at me. "Let's play a game."

"What?"

"It's like 20 questions. You get to ask me twenty questions, I get to ask you twenty questions, and we have to answer them truthfully. Okay?"

Is it a good idea to agree that I will tell Draco anything he wants to know? Not at all. But I did say I wanted to be friends, so I guess we have to get to know each other.

"How do I know you'll answer honestly?"

Draco shrugs. "We don't have our wands so we can't make an unbreakable vow. We don't have any veritaserum. I guess you just have to trust me, Hermione. I trust you. Please believe me when I say that I will tell you anything you want to know." His eyes meet mine when he's done talking.

Draco's eyes have changed. They used to be a cold, steely grey. Now they look like molten silver. It's like the whole time I've known him he had an impenetrable wall around him, and he's finally torn it down. Because as I stare into his eyes, I truly believe that he will tell me anything.

"Okay. I'll go first. What's your favorite color?"

Draco ponders this for a moment. "Black. Or green."

"Black or green? Seriously? You have no imagination."

Draco scoffs. "What's yours?" 

Argh. "Red."

Now Draco is laughing. "Red like Gryffindor or red like Weasel's hair?"

I would say Gryffindor, but I would be lying. "Red like red! My turn." What should I ask him next? Hmmm..... Let's make this a little more interesting. "Are you a virgin?" I ask. 

He rolls his eyes. "Are you crazy, Granger? No respectable Slytherin leaves Hogwarts as a virgin. I've been sleeping with Parkinson since fourth year!" 

I wrinkle my nose. "Too much information!" I complain.

Draco laughs. "I didn't know Gryffindors were so pure."

I sigh. "Is that a bad thing? Also, I guess there must've been some perverted Gryffindor boys in the past because the staircase to the girl's dormitory has a special charm on it so only girls can get up."

Draco grins. "Perverted Gryffindors? I thought all the perverts were in Slytherin."

I shake my head. "You ever meet Cormac Mclaggen?"

"What'd he do?"

"Long story. He liked me. I confunded him at quidditch tryouts and left him under the mistletoe at Slughorn's Christmas party."

Draco chuckles. "You're quite a woman, you know that? I need to know something you're afraid of. What form does your boggart take?"

Oh bloody hell. "It's.... Um...." Why did he have to ask this question?

"I promise not to laugh," he says. He sounds like he's serious, so I tell him. 

"My boggart is Professor McGonagall telling me I've failed everything."

Draco is struggling to keep a straight face, but stays true to his promise and does not laugh. "I should have known," he says, "I mean, you are Hermione Granger after all."

"Alright," I say, "What form does yours take?"

Draco's face falls. "You don't want to know," he says, "but I'll tell you anyway."

"You don't have to-"

"Yes, I do. I've never really talked to anyone about this, and it might help me."

"Help you with what?"

"Nightmares. That's why I was awake when you knocked. I had a nightmare."

"You have nightmares about your boggart?"

"My boggart takes the form of my father."

I gasp without meaning to. "What did he-?"

"My father used the cruciatus curse on me when he was angry. A few times-" Draco's voice catches. "A few times he even used it on my mother."

"That's horrible," I whisper.

He only sighs. "You have no idea."

"You're right," I say, "but do you want to talk about it?"

I'm still somewhat in shock. I knew Lucius Malfoy was a jerk, but to use the cruciatus curse on his own wife and child? That's a whole other level of evil.

"I was so confused when I first came to Hogwarts, Hermione." I didn't really expect Draco to actually talk to me, so this is a surprise. "I was raised thinking that Albus Dumbledore was a liar and a fake. I was taught that muggle-born witches and wizards were no better than slaves. Everything I learned at Hogwarts contradicted my upbringing.

"I put on a confident front, but inside I  was falling apart. How could my father think Dumbledore was so horrible? He was one of the greatest men I had ever met. It was impossible for me to hate muggle-borns when you were a muggle-born.

"I realized that I didn't want the life of my parents. I didn't want to be a dark wizard. I wanted to use magic to bring joy, not fear. More than anything, I wanted to go to Dumbledore. I knew he could get me away from my father.

"But I knew my dreams could never become a reality. If there was one thing I had learned as a child, It was that the only thing that ever came from going up against my father was pain and suffering."

I see that Draco is struggling not to cry. He continues. "There was one time when I was about eight years old. I don't know what happened, but my father came home furious. When I saw the look in his eyes, I ran. I hid in a cupboard, but I could hear what was going on.

"You don't know what it's like to hear your mother screaming in agony. To know that you father is the one inflicting pain on her. I feared for my life that day, Hermione. As I heard my mother's tortured screams and useless pleas for mercy, I could only think one thing. If my father would cause that much pain to the woman he loved so much, what would he do to me?"

Tears are pouring down Draco's face. At this moment, my heart is breaking for him. I finally see the real Draco Malfoy, and how broken this boy is.