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Wake Up

By Katheryn Johanna Avila

Drama / Romance

Wake Up

Here's a oneshot I've been meaning to write for a while now...

Disclaimer: I don't own HP. Fic inspired by Sweet Dreams by Beyonce which I also don't own...

Image found via Google Image Search.

Wake Up

If Harry and Ron knew what I dreamt about, they'd disown me. I don't know why these dreams started, but I do remember when. The day he appeared at the door, bloodied and bruised, in the arms of Severus Snape. I thought I had managed to crush whatever miniscule feelings I may have developed for him. I guess not.

After the emotional wreck Ron made of me during our sixth year, I gave up on him completely, but I wasn't prepared for who replaced him. Draco Malfoy, of all people, had taken up residency in my heart, and it didn't look like he would leave any time soon. When Harry told us he and Snape killed Dumbledore, I wasn't sure if all the tears I shed were fully for him or for the feelings I had towards his attempted killer. After that day, I tried to stomp the feelings away, suppress them, but I couldn't, clearly.

When I was captured and taken to Malfoy Manor, some twisted part of me hoped I would see him. I knew he'd gone back to Hogwarts while we hadn't. I did see him, saw the tortured expression in his eyes as I was subjected to the Cruciatus. He made no movement to help his aunt torture me, simply watched. When we escaped, I saw the look of longing, the look of desperation, as he watched us leave. Had he been craving an escape as well?

Then we found out that Snape had not betrayed us after all. He had killed Dumbledore under the man's very own orders. Hope erupted in me at the news. If Snape was redeemable, what's to say Draco Malfoy was not? Every time I thought I had managed to rid myself of those feelings, they came back tenfold. Why? Why was I developing feelings for someone who had only ever hated me? I became angry at myself, unwilling to accept my treacherous heart. The nail hit the coffin when I encountered him a third time, the last time before I saw his battered form in the arms of our old professor.

Harry, Ron, and I, along with a few others, had been sent to Diagon Alley, where there were rumors of an upcoming attack. We had barely arrived when the Death Eaters had begun to destroy shops left and right, attacking innocent people. I immediately went into high gear, shooting spells and helping people to safety. Against my better judgment, I scanned the crowds of black for a glance of white-blond hair. He was nowhere to be seen, and I berated myself for being so stupid. He'd be cloaked and in a mask, of course I wouldn't see him.

My momentary lapse almost caused my death. A few Death Eaters had noticed me, and probably recognized me as one of Harry's best friends. They shot at me, and I stumbled to protect myself.

"Protego!" The shield charm was nearly too late, but it held. However, that was only against one curse. A red jet of light came quickly behind the first. I was too slow to react. A body slammed against mine and pushed me into an alley, and suddenly I felt that familiar pull beneath my navel. My savior Apparated me to another area of the Alley.

"Keep your bushy head down, Granger! Stay alert or you'll get yourself killed!" The voice was muffled behind the mask, but I knew it anywhere. Draco Malfoy had saved me. His silver eyes glanced at me from the shadow created by his hood, piercing right through me. I couldn't react, couldn't even think. And just as quickly as he'd saved me, he Apparated away. I didn't give myself time to think it over, I went back into the fray, taking his advice. My guard didn't drop again.

We had managed to save many lives that night, the fight having been overall successful. I couldn't help but attribute our success to Malfoy helping me.

I didn't tell anyone what had happened. We hadn't heard from Snape in months, and he was the only person I could go to with this information. And then one day, out of the blue, there he was, with Draco Malfoy, near death, in his arms. No one questioned Snape's judgment except for Harry and Ron. Neither one of them trusted Malfoy, for obvious reasons. Mrs. Weasley took up the task of nursing him back to health. I couldn't help but volunteer. He needed my help, and it was the least I could do after he'd helped me.

And that's when the dreams had begun. They started small, simply replaying the night he'd saved me. Then my imagination had begun to take over, concocting scenarios in which he received all those injuries. As we nursed him back to health, I saw the extent of the damage. He'd definitely been subjected to more than one very powerful Crucio, as well as other spells that caused more visible harm. Whatever they had been, they wouldn't let him heal entirely. I suspected the use of cursed blades. His body was marred by cuts that had only barely stopped bleeding. I was surprised he hadn't died from blood loss.

Sometimes I suffered nightmares, other times I was blessed with dreams. We would be together, his arms around me, his hands caressing me. The feel of his hands grazing my skin made my heart falter, in my dream and out of it. These were always the most vivid. When I would wake up, the feel of his lips on mine still lingered. My whole body flushed with warmth at the memory of it, and guilt would set in. If Ron and Harry knew…

I woke up in tears from my nightmares, but the dreams allowed me to wake up with the ghost of a smile on my face. Knowing the subject of my dreams and nightmares was merely down the hall didn't help any.

And that's how the hours of the early morning found me, crying, because I'd woken up from a nightmare where he'd died, where I hadn't been able to heal him soon enough. I wrapped my arms around myself, unable to help the urge to pretend they were his. Memories of when he'd saved me came floating back, the fleeting moment in which I actually was in his arms. I couldn't help the shiver that ran through me, down my spine. Lucid dreams. The agony I'd felt when I saw his mangled body still lingered, just like the ghost of his lips on mine.

Part of me wished I wouldn't wake up sometimes. Those were the only moments when I could let my feelings for him show. No one suspected me now, no one ever would, not unless I was as free as I was in my dreams.

Shaking these thoughts from my mind, I stood. It was early, but it was my turn to go keep watch over Draco. It had been a month and a half since he'd arrived at Grimmauld place, but had only woken up three or four times, and never when I was in the room. Mrs. Weasley had told me when he woke, but he was sleeping again when it was my turn to watch him. Maybe it was better that way.

I crossed paths with Mrs. Weasley and she gave me a weary smile. I smiled back, nodding. Quietly I stepped into Draco's room. There was a small lamp by his bed, giving the room a dim light. I sat by him, taking my usual post. This entire time I had been worried over what Ron and Harry would think of me, never once stopping to think of what Draco would say. What would happen if he found out about my fantasies, my dreams? Utter rejection, that's what.

At that thought, my eyes began to water of their own accord. I don't know why that realization hit me so hard, I'd never really thought about it before. I let out a shuddering sigh, glad Malfoy was asleep. I closed my eyes, taking a deep breath. If by some off chance he woke up (not likely), I couldn't let him see me crying, even if he didn't know it was because of him.

I watched him for a little longer, the only indication that he was alive was the rise and fall of his chest. I sighed again, leaning back and closing my eyes. A few moments passed, in which I tried to calm myself. It was dead quiet in the room, the only noises my ears could pick up were my heartbeat and our breathing. Suddenly, his breathing changed, and my eyes snapped open. He was looking straight at me, silver meeting brown.

"You're awake…" It was the first time I'd actually seen him, spoken to him, since he saved me. I felt compelled to thank him, even though that happened months ago.

"Way to state the obvious, Granger." He smirked at me, and I was at a loss as to what I should say. I simply stared at him, practically unblinking. I barely registered the change in his eyes. They went from passive to…concerned? "Have you been crying, Granger?" He sat up, looking at me closely. It was only now I realized I hadn't wiped my face of the offending tears.

"I don't believe that's any of your business, Malfoy." I tried to be flippant, cold, like we usually were, or had been, in school. Wiping the tears away, ignoring how he looked at me, I continued to speak. "How are you feeling?" It was my job, after all.

"Better than I have in a long time. Thanks, for keeping me healthy, I mean. Last time I woke up Molly said you'd been helping me." His use of Mrs. Weasley's first name struck me as odd, but I didn't comment on it.

"Consider us even, I suppose. I never got to thank you for what you did at Diagon Alley. Thanks." I wrung my hands in my lap. I'd never been nervous talking to Malfoy before.

"Don't mention it." He offered me a smile, a grin, something that looked so off, yet so right, coming from him. An uneasy silence settled over us, so I couldn't help but ask him what had been bothering me all this time.

"Why did you do it?" He looked taken aback by my question.

"I couldn't let you die…" I was taken aback by his answer. I hadn't been looking at him when I asked my question, but now my head snapped up, my eyes unable to look away from his. I was about to speak, but he wasn't finished, "I…I couldn't let them hurt you. If you died…it seemed like the war would be lost."

"Why would you care? You weren't on our side. Besides, if you were so worried about us losing, you should've been protecting Harry then, not me." What started out as a simple question, turned into a snappy interrogation. I couldn't help it. My mind went on defensive, still stuck on the fact that he'd seen me crying.

"How do you know I wasn't?" His question was soft, barely audible. I blanched, anything I had been about to say wiped form my mind. "After all, everyone thought Snape was a traitor, but he wasn't was he?"

"But…why didn't you come to us sooner? This could have all been avoided…"

"I couldn't just leave my mother…" His voice broke on the mention of his mother. I was about to respond, but he didn't let me, "Not like it matters now…he killed her anyway…" My heart broke at the mention of his mother's death. He hadn't come to us sooner because he didn't want to leave his mum. Voldemort murdered her, and apparently left him for dead.

"Malfoy, I-"

"Save your pity." His tone betrayed his anger, his frustration. I found myself getting up and sitting by him on the bed, taking his hand, lending what little comfort I could offer. He had wanted to run away, wanted to leave the Death Eaters in favor of the Order. "Snape found me, brought me here. He'd been trying to convince me to leave for a long time, but my mum wouldn't hear it, wouldn't leave Lucius." He spit his father's name, and I couldn't help but wonder about the hatred evident in his voice. When had Malfoy gone from admiring his father like a god to hating him like this?

"It isn't pity, Malfoy. I-" I stopped myself before I said anything else. Not now, not like this. My regular bravery left me, and I found myself incapable of confessing how I felt. I didn't even register when I had made the decision to try. He looked at me, the questions in his eyes. I had to say something to save face. "So why me? Why not Harry? Like I said, his death would have meant losing the war, not mine."

"I already said I couldn't let them hurt you. If they did…" He squeezed my hand, my heart jumping at the gesture. What was he saying? I watched him lean back against the headboard, not letting go of my hand. Instead, he took it in both of his, rubbing his thumb along my skin. My heartbeat sped up a bit, breath catching. He closed his eyes, letting out a sigh. "Suffice it to say the death toll on his side would have increased. Dramatically." He would have killed…for me?

"I don't need anyone to protect me." It didn't come out as forceful as I had intended. My voice shook, and his eyes opened in response. He smirked, but it lacked any of the malice from our schooldays. He sat back up again, leaning towards me, our faces inches apart.

"From where I was standing, love, that's not what it looked like." At the endearment, his other hand brushed along my jaw, his thumb tracing a scar I knew ran along my cheek. His touch had the same effect in reality that it did in my dreams. My eyes fluttered closed, and I had to fight my body's inclination to lean into him. We were close enough that I felt his breath on my skin, the urge to close the distance was nearly overpowering. Fighting it took every ounce of my willpower, knots twisting in my stomach with the effort. "Not to mention, Hermione," his use of my given name forced me to open my eyes, realizing he was closer than I thought, "that I do care about you, probably much more than I should…"

His voice trailed off, eyes boring into mine. I felt like a deer caught in headlights, eyes widening at his confession.

"Draco…" I felt the need to say his name, like I had in my dreams, fearing that it would be the magic word with the power to send me crashing back into reality. It would be the word to wake me up from this dream, or this nightmare. I still wasn't sure which it was. His hand moved to cup my cheek, and I felt the faintest pull from it, bringing me closer, yet at the same time asking me if I wanted him to close the distance. Silver piercing brown, he searched my eyes for a reaction, much like I searched his, questioning his actions.

I leaned into his touch, leaned into him. Our lips brushed, and for a moment he held my gaze, and then my eyes fluttered closed, the rest of my body inching towards his. He removed his hand from mine, opting to snake it around my waist instead, pulling me closer. My chest flush against his, I allowed one of my hands to rest on his upper arm, the other making its way to his neck. Gentle, bittersweet, the kiss was unlike anything I'd ever felt before, even in my dreams. His tongue moved along my bottom lip, asking for entrance. I sighed, relaxing completely into him, letting him deepen the kiss. His fingers ran through my unruly curls, as my fingers twirled a lock at the nape of his neck.

There was no way to tell how long we'd been like that, only that neither one of us seemed willing to stop. When he did pull away, I couldn't help the small whimper of protest that escaped me. Through half lidded eyes I saw the faint trace of a smile on his lips. He brushed them against my cheek, my forehead, and then pulled me closer. My head resting against his shoulder, I sighed, content. Ron and Harry were going to kill me.

"How long?"

"A while now, actually. Since sixth year. I… I knew you wouldn't hurt anyone. You don't have it in you to be a Death Eater…" He chuckled at my assumption, and I realized I enjoyed the sound, almost as much as being held by him. "What about you?"

"Almost as long. It's safe to assume you're the reason why I couldn't be a Death Eater. You are the living, breathing contradiction to what I was brought up to accept as the truth. I guess accepting that turned into caring about you." Hearing him say it again, that he actually cared for me, was enough to send my senses into overdrive. His scent was overpowering, despite being the faint trace left in his clothes.

He pulled away again, only enough so we could be face to face. Taking my chin in his hand he kissed me once more and asked, "So tell me, why were you crying before?"

I'd nearly forgotten I'd been crying at all. His question took me by surprise, but I answered him honestly.

"I was thinking how, for the past month and a half, I've dreamt of you. For a moment I considered what would happen if you ever found out…" I trailed off, knowing full well he was intelligent enough to figure it out.

"You thought I would reject you?"

"I thought you would hate me. You never gave me reason to believe otherwise…" He placed another kiss on my lips, barely moving when he spoke again, his breath delivering chills through me.

"Biggest regret I'll ever have, Hermione, is letting you think I hated you." Again his lips pressed mine, and I eagerly returned the gesture. We were only interrupted when Ron and Harry came into the room, shocked gasps making us pull apart. Yes, they were going to kill me. Thankfully, Draco still held me, and I had the feeling he wouldn't be letting go.

I wish that when I wake up you're there to wrap your arms around me for real and tell me you'll stay by my side. - Sweet Dreams, Beyonce

Thanks! Just a random fic that came to mind. Please Review!

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