The Dreamer

Lines

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Sourly, Hermione sat at the desk writing lines for detention. It really did not look good that a Prefect, such as herself, had been disciplined for fighting. If only those four hadn’t provoked her so. Her quill scratched out another sentence:

I, Hermione Granger, will not Hex fellow classmates indiscriminately in Defense Against the Dark Arts.

Why they did not allow her to abbreviate Defense Against the Dark Arts to D.A.D.A. was beyond her, although she did reluctantly observe that to do so would dramatically shorten the length of time she would spend on each line. Pursing her lips she growled a little in frustration, this was utterly stupid.

Punishments annoyed her, she was a young adult now, not some deviant hooligan. That Ron, Harry, Ginny, and Seamus were not serving some kind of detention as well was almost inexcusable. After all, they had started it by taking shots over the Crystal Ball incident. Seamus especially had no right to step into the rising tensions within the group. However, Hermione supposed, if she were going to think about it from the Head Mistress's view point that is, that it was probable that McGonagall thought their hexes served as punishment enough.

Well, if she was going to be perfectly honest, it didn’t surprise her that Harry got out of it. They were being pretty lenient with him these days. Ron, now that had been a betrayal that cut deeply. He was supposed to be there for her, not side with them. Ginny was apparently still angry with Hermione for being angry with her, which was a solid case for irony in Hermione’s book. And Seamus had apparently wanted to be a prat today, Hermione only hoped the scales itched like mad now.

The only satisfaction she derived had been in knowing they all had to live with their afflictions for more than a few hours today. Not that watching Harry dance a jig everywhere hadn’t been amusing, but it was annoying to know that he just went with it after awhile and was earning tips by lunch time. At least Ginny got a taste of Hermione’s variation of the Bat Boogey. Hermione hoped that all the baby batlings that flew out of Ginny’s nose went after Harry. Certainly, that should liven up his jig.

The sound of her quill scribbling did nothing to quell the few chuckles she had at the thought of Ron’s exact shade of green, which matched so perfectly well with his new sulfur belching affliction. Slytherin Green, such a flattering shade for his red hair in her opinion.

Seamus deserved having his hands Transfigured into ham. He was only so lucky she hadn’t tried to Transfigured his head to match, and that was taking into account that she had already given him a spanking new tail to match the all over monstrous Transfiguration. The scales had been one last parting gift.

Still there was a point of pride as Hermione remembered that she’d disarmed them all before they could even cast their first counter-hex. She was getting good. Now that she was old enough to perform magic anywhere she pleased, it was only a matter of time before she’d have an Auror’s skill.

And this is why detention was utterly useless in her opinion. She was an adult legally, and since when did adults write lines?

A muted snicker broke through Hermione’s quiet thoughts. Looking up, she let out the smallest of sighs at the sight before her. Rolling her eyes, she was quietly determined to ignore a new set of circumstances.

That he was here meant she had fallen asleep in detention, this much she was starting to recognize as a part of the pattern.

Turning back to the lines she’d written, she stood over her dreaming self, who was now asleep and drooling on the parchment. Redundant lines, honestly, who thinks up such a detention?

Hermione’s brows furrowed as she tried to think of a way to wake up, because honestly, the last thing she wanted was another conversation with him. That, and it was troubling to see the lines she’d been writing not make any sense. It only heightened her awareness of the false reality.

“Trouble just seems to follow you these days, doesn’t it?” Draco called out from across the room, walking down the steps a little before shutting the door behind him.

“You’re not really here, so we can’t be having this conversation.” Her answer was calculated and measured. “You can leave now, I won’t be playing along today. Better things to do, you understand.”

“Let’s see if I can’t change your mind.” Draco whispered into her ear now, catching her off guard. Where in the Blastended Skrewts had he come from!

Draco looked over Hermione’s shoulder, down at the dreaming version of the girl before him. “She seems to be sleeping well.”

“She was until someone clued her in that perhaps all was not as it seemed," mumbled Hermione. Turning to face him, Hermione’s tone strengthened. "I don’t have the time for you today. I've quite a lot to think about without your annoying commentary getting mixed up into it, so it's time for you to get going, don't you think?”

Smirking at her, Draco chose to ignore what passed as her idea of a respectful request. Opting to pick up the sleeping Hermione's limp arm and drop it, he mused. “Why do you keep bringing me here? I can’t for the life of me figure it out, and what’s more, I don’t trust you.”

“That makes two of us.” She was beyond aggravated, crossing her arms Hermione rest the bridge of her nose on knuckles. Why! Why didn’t he just go away already? "Quit picking up my arm and dropping it. Even if it is a dream, it's bloody annoying."

His eyes narrowed on her, and Hermione felt herself blush uncomfortably. She wished he'd stop looking at her so hatefully, one moment it was the usual banal banter they shared, and in the very next go he was staring her down. She couldn't stand being in such close proximity to him.

Draco asked suddenly, "What did you do exactly?"

“I was naughty and I got caught?” offered Hermione looking up, her grimace still in place. “I’m not sure really what they expect.” Her smile was tight. “I’m legally an adult now, so I suppose I’m being made an example of.”

He was unreadable. Shaking her head and straightening up, she found something else to interest her. This was her dream after all, and he was just an annoyingly unresolved fragment of some issue she had yet to work through. That seemed a tidy explanation for now. She walked away from him to explore Professor Hollingsworth’s desk.

She’d always wondered what it looked like on in the inside of a professor’s desk. In her early youth, when she was ten or so, Hermione might have has a peek at things she ought not to have, but having come to Hogwarts reformed her of giving into unchecked curiosity, but not necessarily of peeking at things she shouldn't. Only necessary risks were taken back in the days of Voldemort’s first hauntings. Getting expelled was not an option.

Nevertheless, she’d read somewhere, mostly likely in Hogwarts: A History, that professor's desks had been charmed to hold all manner of things, and having charmed a nearly bottomless purse, going by Ron’s assessment of course, Hermione knew of a charm or two that could contain a wondrous amount. And since this was a dream, what could be the harm? It was very likely a wonderful spell, potion, or other inventive idea would come to her, and if she was lucky she might be credited with a new innovation.

“You’re not afraid it’s a Pandora’s box are you.” Draco observed, his tone guarded, and yet he seemed to looking at her with open curiosity.

“Why should I be, it’s a dream, isn’t it?” Whispered Hermione distractedly, she had started to unlock the wards now. “Besides, I’ve always wanted to know.”

“It’s like a puzzle, you just have to figure out which parts to unlock first.” She mumbled, flipping open another drawer latch. “Where’s the pattern, and when you figure that out then you get the feel of the puzzle. And then you unlock it, ah – here we go! A few more pieces left.”

“You really think it’s all a puzzle?” He sighed, looking at her in utter disbelief. “How is it you beat me in all our classes so far?”

“What?” Hermione growled, as she wiggled out a drawer ready to peer into it, but before doing do glanced up to see Draco meeting her glare with his.

“I said, aren’t they all.” Draco breezed, his voice too easy when his eyes read angry. He continued pointedly, “Puzzles, I mean.”

“What do you mean ‘how is it you beat me in all our classes so far’?” She hissed, annoyed that he seemed to be intent on ruining her exploratory trip through the professor’s desk. She now had eight of the twenty drawers unlocked and would have made more progress if he’d just shut the hell up.

“You’re like a child, you know.” He scoffed, “How little you know of what you’re doing, and yet you do it anyway! Look at you prying into drawers, so totally unaware of what might be in there. It’s frightening and it makes me trust your intentions even less.”

“Meeeee! Want your trust?” Hermione squealed. Now, he just seemed amused as if he'd hexed her. Hermione felt a fiery prickle race across her face. Standing up right, her fists came to her hips as the hand that clutched her wand struggled to keep a precise level of pressure. She’d never broken one in a dream and wished to keep it that way. Who only knew what kind of need she might have of it later if the dream soured even further.

“I’d hex you right now, but you seem like you might be something important to me,” Hermione said evenly. “Not sure what exactly, but it's just a guess that maybe you might something big if you keep reappearing even as I’m trying to ignore you. Who knows hexing you might kill off a memory or skill, but either way, I’ve no interest in you at all, so find a way to sod off or something.”

“I can’t just sod off. You brought me here. Do you get anything I’m saying to you?” He asked seriously. “Honestly, Granger, I don’t know how you have what talent you’ve got, but I’m telling you don’t go opening those drawers and quit involving me in your schemes. I’ll never reveal anything to you anyways.”

“You can’t tell me anything I want to know.” She scoffed, opening another drawer to prove her point. “It’s my dream, my drawers, my life, and for whatever reason you’re something of mine, representatively speaking, so really, just go take representative walk somewhere not here. You know, see if you can vanish or whatever.” Hermione grunted, shifting a newly opened but heavy lock off to the side of another drawer she was working on. “Do us both some good, all right?”

“Not all right.” He paced, looking at her quite disturbed. “What is it you think I represent?”

That was a good question, not that she was going to admit that part, but setting aside the lock she’d just opened did give her a bit of time to come up with an answer. “I’m not really sure, but maybe if I had to guess, you’re every negative feeling I’ve ever had about myself.”

He didn’t say anything. And when that odd moment settled, she looked up. He wasn’t there anymore. Well, that had been easy, if not uncomfortably so. The room spun away from her now.

With a small breeze from above, Hermione awoke to see a dodgy looking handkerchief wafting over her.

“What the –” said Hermione drowsily, before trying to scoot away from the soiled looking cloth. Hermione’s confusion was evident. “Why are you here, Weasley?”

“Truce, or at least a cease fire. Please, I need sleep, and Harry will be a wreck tomorrow to say nothing of Seamus’s problems. Oh, and I don't know if you intended this, but Ron is starving. He's found he can’t eat if he’s belching sulfer.” Ginny bleated with a stuffy nose before she sneezed powerfully into the tattered rag she’d been just waving above Hermione.

"And you thought waving that thing at me would change my mind how?" Hermione snorted. Annoyed Ginny was just now coming to settle this.

Tiny shrieks filled the silence, the little bat baby boogeys could have been Mandrake Root transplants for all the noise they made. It was aggravating to be forced to hear them, but it only lasted a moment, because soon loud rapid thuds were heard as Ginny beat the handkerchief with the palm of her hand on the desk. Hermione sat back in revulsion as strands of batling boogey stuck to Ginny’s hand as she finished the job of silencing them, efficient as a killer.

“Please, I can’t do this all day, truce?” Ginny stuffily huffed. “Please?”

Rolling her eyes at the pitiful girl before her, Hermione reached down into the bag for her wand and in one sweeping motion lifted all her day’s hexes with a well cast Finite Incantantum.

“Thank you!” Ginny exclaimed, her hands flew to her nose to feel it. “I’m, well, this doesn’t change the incident, you need to own up to it, but thank you for being big enough to undo your curses.”

“I’m not sure how that qualifies as an apology.” said Hermione evenly.

“Are you really going to deny it?” Ginny seemed utterly perplexed. Her hands coming to rest on her hips like a petulant child.

“I didn’t do anything and you know it!” seethed Hermione. Her anger was mounting. She was beginning to regret taking mercy on Ginny.

“Forget it.” Ginny scourgified her hand and hankie, before leaving for the stairs angrily.

Hermione said nothing as she returned to her lines. That had been odd.

“You can’t lie to yourself forever, it comes out eventually. I promise you.” Ginny warned, cutting into Hermione's thoughts once again, “I’m over the incident, but don’t pretend like more won’t come if you don’t deal with whatever has you haunted and walking the halls at night.”

With that Ginny left Hermione to finish the lines, letting the door slam behind her forcefully as she left.

“And I still didn’t do what you all think I did,” refuted Hermione with a perturbed sigh.

She wrote another sentence in long loose cursive. Cripes this was dull. This was going to be a long week, but maybe pretending that she could get past their accusations was a start towards things getting better. One could always hope.

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A/N: Sorry this seems to be taking me longer than I anticipated, but it's about to pick up. I'm kind of busy these days, and not very good with keeping up with reviews, but Breenieweenie, I'm flattered by your offer! I'll need a little more time to tighten up the new plot, but I would love to see a trailer made of this story. This has morphed a lot from what I originally intended, so the new details are still settling. I think I'm done shifting chapters around. But perhaps next week after the next update, I'll have a better idea and will e-mail then!

Anyways, thanks to those of you have reviewed, rated, or both. I really do appreciate that you all took the time to let me know what you think.

Yours,

Mistress Owlsworth