Draco hesitated. 'Every night I have-'
'Nightmares. I know-'
'Yes, nightmares. About you. Well, about other things as well, but you're always in them. And I know they're not necessarily my dreams, I know maybe they're being…sent to me from somewhere else, but still. It's every night, Hermione, every night and I'm afraid…I don't want to hurt Harry. And I don't mean in some weenie emotional way. I mean I'm afraid of hurting him. And in the dreams…'
There was a ringing in Hermione's ears. She stared at him, at his gray eyes, charcoal at the edges blending into silver at the pupils.
'What am I doing?'
'What?'
'In the dreams. What am I doing?'
Draco looked at her with obvious reluctance. 'Sometimes we're married. Or, at least, we live together and it's all very ordinary and pleasant. Other times I'm…hurting you, we're fighting, and that's not so pleasant. Once we were hunting in the woods together. Two nights ago I dreamed that I was ill and that you came to see me…'
'And I told you that nobody had sent me,' said Hermione slowly, her voice falling into a dreamlike cadence. 'And you said that you let a snake bite you on purpose.'
Draco had gone very white. 'And I told you I loved you.'
'And I said that you would sacrifice me along with all the rest.'
Draco shook his head. 'Not you. Never.'
There was a moment of total silence. Draco stared at her with the expression of someone watching the night sky for a glimpse of falling stars — bemused, distracted, hopeful. Finally, he said, 'How..?'
She reached out and took his other hand, covering both his hands with hers, hoping it might make him a little less cold. 'That's what I dreamed last night,' she said. 'I thought it was just because I had been reading about the lives of the Hogwarts Founders, and Salazar Slytherin was bitten by a snake once, and nearly died. But it was so real…' she leaned forward, looking at him intently. The blood was beginning to flood back into his face;, there were patches of hectic color on his cheekbones, making him look feverish. 'Draco, you have to tell me everything. Everything that's been going on with you. I can help you solve this, I promise you I can. I swear. Do you believe me?'
He hesitated. 'Everything?'
'Everything. The dreams, everything.'
'Even the one I had about the Brazilian women's Quidditch team?'
'Okay. Not that one.'
'Hey, Ron. Have you seen Harry?'
Ron, who had been looking restlessly out the window, glanced over at his sister, who had just come into the living room, carrying a pair of boots. He shrugged. 'I think he's in the garden with Charlie, getting his feelings out via de-gnoming. Why?'
Ginny flopped down on the floor and began lacing her boots up. 'I wanted to ask him if I could borrow his pocketknife, but never mind. Why is he getting his feelings out?'
Ron pointed towards the staircase, indicating the upstairs floor.
'Draco. Hermione. Talking. Or whatever,' he said succinctly.
Ginny looked displeased. 'And Harry let them? He shouldn't let them.'
'Yeah, and you're entirely objective. Honestly, the tangled love lives around this place. You can't not let people do things, Ginny. You just have to trust them.'
Ginny looked as if she thought this was an extremely suspect line of reasoning. 'I don't see why.'
'Relationships are based on trust.'
'Can't they just be based on common interest and insane physical attraction?'
'Try to wind me up all you like, I will ignore you. What's with the boots, anyway?'
'I'm going down into the cellar to investigate.'
Ron looked baffled. 'Investigate what?'
Ginny shrugged. 'What Dad's always going on about. Our Hufflepuff ancestry. I mean, if Hermione did say that Helga Hufflepuff in that tapestry she saw looked just like me. And if she's related to Ravenclaw…well, it just makes sense that if there was anything tying us to Hufflepuff, it's be in the cellar. I mean there's just miles of tunnels and things down there that no-one's even bothered to look into for hundreds of years. Remember when George found that spear thing and Dad said it dated back to one of the first goblin rebellions?'
Ron shook his head. 'Seems a bit far-fetched, but suit yourself.'
'Why don't you come with me? We're not needed up here at the moment.'
Ron shuddered. 'Spiders,' he said shortly.
The door banged open, and Harry came in, looking disheveled. His hands were covered in dirt, and there was mud all over his white t-shirt. He glanced from Ginny to Ron. 'What are you two up to?'
'Ginny's decided to excavate our cellar,' said Ron, shrugging.
'And I want Ron to come with me, but he won't.'
