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Slytherin's Angel by ashleydelacour
Chapter 2 : The Dream
Rating: MatureChapter Reviews: 1

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Draco had a fitful sleep that night. All he could dream about was returning to Hogwarts the next day.

He could see the ruby red steam engine, hear it crying out, signaling to the students that it was ready to return them to many of the students’ true home. He felt slightly nervous on the platform, there were too many people pushing against him. He had no Slytherin robe on, nor did he drag a trunk or carry his cage with his hawk. He just kept walking further and further down the platform and at last…he saw her.

There she was standing in all her glory, her blue robes billowing in the gentle breeze. She had a peaceful smile upon her face, her hair flowing like liquid gold along the front of her shoulders.

She looked longingly at Draco, “Come, my darling.”

Draco was lost in her eyes, he pushed his way through the crowd. Hurry Draco, hurry, he thought to himself, almost there…

He was feet from her, but a shadow crept behind her that made him stop in his tracks.

A tall hooded figure rose, solidifying from a dark mist that clouded around her. Rising from behind, the figure lifted its hand to reveal a long, silver blade, the sharp metal catching the light. It raised the dagger, higher and higher. The lower half of the perpetrator’s face was revealed by the bright lights of the platform. The lips parted in a sneer, the dagger still accelerating in height…

Draco, dumbfounded, felt his mouth part in some sort of scream or yell but no sound came out. He pointed at her in panic. She smiled, laughing at him for what she thought was teasing. Draco shook his head, pointing frantically behind her, sprinting and shoving people out of the way to get to her. He pushed with all his might but he seemed to be getting nowhere, stronger and stronger the crowd pushed against him. So close…

The blade came down fast…



Sweat poured from Draco’s face as he shot up in bed. He dangled his feet over the edge, wiping his face off with his arm. Covering his face with his hands, he tried to resist sobbing.

“No, no, no, no, no!” He howled.

He slammed his body down on his bed, looking up at the ceiling; he grabbed a fistful of sheets, twisting himself up into them in frustration and fear.

I have to find her, Draco promised himself, I have to find her and protect her from everything.

He took a deep breath.

Relax, he heard a voice say, so much like her own, relax my darling.

“STOP!” He screamed.

There was a quiet knock on his door, entering a moment later without his permission.

“Draco, darling? All you alright?” Narcissa whispered, clutching her sleeping gown tightly against her body.

“Fine.” He growled, immediately regretting his harsh tone. Her presence reminded him of his father’s comment about her. Irritation swelled within him at the thought of his father’s disappointment in a woman who tried her best to please him in all ways.

“Are you sure?” She asked again.

“Fine, mother.” He said, trying to hide the irritation in his voice. He didn’t want to hurt her feelings. After all she had been through with the escape of Lucius, he didn’t want to make her more upset than she already was; he was not the only one who was disappointed in his father’s return.

“Alright. Well, if you need anything…” She quietly closed the door.

He rolled over onto his side, his eyelids suddenly felt heavy, his body agreeing, felt sluggish. But his mind stayed alert, buzzing with thoughts and worries. He didn’t want to go back to sleep and have similar dreams to the one previously.

Instead, he thought of ways to try and find this girl, how to talk to her, how to let her know that she was in danger so great, it was risking her life…and his.

When he couldn’t come up with anything else he heard the voice again: Relax Draco, my darling.

He relaxed his muscles, burning for a moment as he felt the acid draining out of his aching bones and joints. He closed his eyes slowly and went into a dreamless, deep sleep.



“Master Malfoy, sir!” Squeaked a house elf, “You must hurry! Fifteen minutes before the train leaves!”

“I know!” He barked. The house elf cowered, clasping his hands together and slowly backing out of the room.

His mind raced as he tried to remember if he had packed everything. Gavina, his hawk, looked at him curiously with big yellow eyes. She ruffled her wings, adjusting into a more comfortable position. Her black feathers gleamed in the weak sunlight that was pouring in the window, flecks of grey and white on her wings gave the feathers dimension, and a white patch on her chest gave the bird a regal look. A tuft of black hairs adorned the top of her head, giving her false ears.

“Come.” He said softly.

Gavina spread her wings, gently lifting herself off her perch and flying onto Draco’s extended arm. Realizing that Draco did not have a thick shirt, she clamped gently.

“In you go.” Draco said, moving his arm towards the open cage. Gavina hopped in as Draco secured the latch.

“It’s only for a while.” He assured her.

She clicked her beak in understanding.

Thinking he had everything, he closed his trunk and took it off the bed. With the handle in hand and Gavina’s cage in the other, he took one last look at his room that he would not return to until Christmas.

“Master Malfoy!” The elf squeaked again, seeming to be hiding outside the door. Draco jumped, almost making him drop his cage, causing Gavina to screech and flap her wings in irratation.

“What do you think you’re doing? Stupid git!” He cursed it.

“I was only wanting to help, sir!” Replied the elf.

“Well you nearly caused the death of my hawk, you-” He faltered, not wanting to have to waste time on a petty insult.

“If you want to help…here!” He dragged the trunk and let it slide with ease on the newly polished floors. The house elf, with arms extended, hoping he would catch the heavy trunk, fell on top of him. Draco could hear a loud squeak as he marched down the stairs, not caring enough to look back.

He carefully set Gavina’s cage in front of the fireplace and grabbed some Floo Powder from a china bowl resting on the mantle. The familiar emerald flames rose up, licking hungrily as it blasted Draco with intense heat.

“Are you coming Mother?” Draco called.

“No need to use such a tone.” She droned, appearing from the dining room, an icy tone resonating from her pale throat. He must be around, he thought; Narcissa wasn’t normally so aloof and detached. Draco looked around the hall, trying not to be obvious, but Lucius found him first.

He felt a fistful of his sweater being grabbed, his skin scratched with his rings as his father whispered fiercely into his left ear, “Remember what I told you, or there will be severe punishment.”

Draco shrugged his father off, who surprisingly let go immediately. He turned to face his father, who was glaring at him with his icy pools of gray. His lip curled in disgust.

“Fine.” Draco fumed.

He turned to his mother, who had taken the trunk from the elf, and nodded that she was ready. Without another look at his father he called, “King’s Cross!”

The familiar feeling of being sucked down a drain consumed Draco. He was spinning and spinning, faster and faster. Just when he thought he would be sick, his feet hit hard against the cobblestone of the train station.

It was like reliving his dream all over again: the familiar red steam engine roared, a cloud of white smoke erupted from the smokestack. The bustling young children, holding the hands of their parents as they led them closer and closer to the train, squealed in excitement for their first year. Standing right in the middle of the crowd were the seventh years, talking about plans for the future and what they hoped would happen in their final year.

He followed his mother over to the middle of the train where he handed his trunk and hawk to the old man extending his hand.

“Take care of her, or I’ll know.” He glared at the trolley man. The timid man took the cage slowly, as if it might break if he applied an ounce more of pressure. Draco didn’t leave until he saw that she was securely locked on a high shelf.

“Will do, sir.” He mumbled back.

“You better.” He growled under his breath. He could hear giggling behind him. His heart lightened immensely as he thought of the girl he bumped into at Diagon Alley, as if he could really be that lucky. He spun around; his heart plummeted…it was Pansy Parkinson.

“Drakey!” She screeched. He winced at the horrid nickname she had given him so long ago.

He shook his head, not paying any attention to her, and continued to follow his mother, who stood up against the wall, trying to get out of the moving sea of people.

“Drakey! Why are you ignoring me?” Pansy whined, blocking him as she grabbed onto his sleeve.

He wrung himself free and told her the first thing that came to his mind, “I’ve been busy?”

He tried to make it sound convincing, but turned out to be a question instead, as if he was asking her if he had bought his lie or not.

“No you haven’t! You’ve been ignoring me all summer!” She cried. He tried to move on, but she wouldn’t get out of his way, “Haven’t you been getting my owls, darling? I’ve been sending one nearly every day!”

“See you on the train.” He dismissed, shuddering at the thought that he had once had some slight feeling for her only just a year ago. He reminded himself that he was truly getting desperate if he had sunken that low.

“Alright.” She jumped up to kiss his cheek; it was a wet, disgusting kiss that seemed to sting his face. He quickly wiped it off when he was sure she was a safe distance away.

He shivered once more as he met his mother against the wall.

“I’m sorry I acted that way…you know how your father is if he thinks I’m being soft on you.” She looked up into his face, somewhat shorter than her tall, broad shouldered son.

“It’s fine.” He smiled weakly.

He understood how it was, sending a violent shiver up his spine that wasn’t a result of Pansy’s kiss.

The steam engine roared louder this time, signaling that it was eager and ready to leave.

Draco turned to his mother, “I guess I’ll go now.”

She smiled and nodded, “I guess so.”

“Listen,” He said, slicking back his hair in nervousness, “If he…does it…again…I, I want you to leave.”

“You know I can’t do that, Draco.” She lowered her voice, looking fiercely into his eyes, “With all the others at your father’s hand, they’d find me in no time.”

“Come to Hogwarts then.” He ordered, grabbing his mother firmly by the shoulders, his gaze piercing into her eyes. Anger flared in him by his mother’s shaking head.

“Draco, I-”

“Do it! You’ll be safe there, Snape will keep you safe, he has to!”

“You know Severus would never…never betray Lucius…”

The steam engine sounded once more, starting to move slowly, screeching as it tried to make the rusty wheels turn.

“You will come!” He ordered. Before she could argue, he ran into the nearest open door, barely missing its closing as the train started to pick up speed. The door slammed shut. Draco jumped back, afraid that it would rip his tailored robe.

He knew he would be expected to do his Head Boy duty as soon as he was on the train. He recalled the congratulatory letter from months earlier, not caring to read the actual paper itself, saving himself minutes of boredom of Dumbledore explaining what an honor it was to even be nominated, let alone being granted the position, reminding him to be an example for the younger students. Draco deemed it pathetic and discarded it immediately. He reached into his pocket and pulled out a gleaming badge with the golden words “Head Boy” engraved in cursive writing, the four house crests engraved into the background. He cursed Snape for electing him; he couldn’t care less. Although, he did relish in the power the little badge harnessed.

Look at the up side, he told himself; there are an endless amount of points that I can take from Pothead and the crew, not to mention the pathetic little first years.

He smirked to himself, liking the idea that he had power over everyone else. He was sure that the Slytherins would win the House Cup this year, knowing that Granger would only take away house points if absolutely necessary.

She wouldn’t have the guts to defy me anyway…if she knows what’s good for her. Draco said to himself, flipping the badge in his hand, putting it back into his pocket.

Screw Head duties, I didn’t sign up for the job anyway.

 He started to walk down the rows of compartments, quickly glancing for someone he knew. Much to his displeasure, he didn’t see Potter or Weasly as he continued his way to the end of the train, finally finding an empty compartment. He slid the door open and plopped into the seat.

He felt tired, but from what? He didn’t know. He put his hand up to his forehead, shielding the sunlight that was glaring down on them on that September day. He closed his eyes and fell asleep.

He awoke when he heard the compartment door opening, only to find the four people he dreaded the most: Crabbe, Goyle, Blaise Zabini, and Pansy.

“Drakey!” She cried, rushing over to him and attempting to kiss him full on the mouth, but only managed to get his cheek when he turned his head in abhorrence.

“We’ve been looking everywhere for you Draco, where have you been?” Blaise asked coolly, his almond eyes becoming slits as he stared at his classmate.

“Well, here obviously, you git.” Draco snapped.

“Yeah, right.” Blaise responded, looking sheepish as he took a seat across from him. Crabbe and Goyle followed his lead.

“No need to be snappish, darling.” Teased Pansy as she slipped her hands around Draco’s arm and rested her head on his shoulder. He could feel every muscle stiffen as she did so, wanting so badly to shake her off.

Draco didn’t respond to her comment, but looked out the window and saw that it was very dark indeed, signaling the arrival at the school.

“We don’t have much longer,” Blaise said, reading his thoughts.

“Then I’m going to change into my robes.” Draco said uncomfortably, shaking Pansy off with great effort.

“You could change right here.” Pansy said, raising her eyebrows, as she moved his hands up and down his chest.

“Shove off Pansy!” He growled.

She frowned, but took her seat.

He exited quickly before anyone else could protest. He took no time in choosing a direction; he turned left quickly and started walking towards the front of the train. Luckily, the lot of them was too stupid to notice that he had turned his trunk in before he left, forgetting to get his robes out before he boarded the train. It didn’t matter, he was important enough for people to know what house he was in.

He hadn’t even walked for five minutes when the train came to a smooth stop. He turned to the nearest exit, pushing his way through timid first years. He heard Pansy calling out for him, making him exit even faster.

The night air was cool; traveling through Draco’s slick hair with ease. It slapped at his face like a cold hand, stinging his cheeks. He blew warm air into his cupped palms, trying to warm up. He regretted that he didn’t remember to get his cloak and robes.

Hagrid, who wore his usual mole-skin overcoat, with gruffly, unkempt hair called out to the first years to board the boats first.

“There, I think I see him over there!” Pansy called to the other boys.

Draco looked around; towering over most of the students with ease. He ducked, bowing his head as he pushed his way through.

“Shove off, Malfoy!”

He spun around and saw Hermione Granger, with Harry and Ron by her side, all three glaring at him.

“You’ll be quiet if you know what’s good for you, you filthy Mudblood.” He scowled.

He heard Pansy call for him again.

“Might want to go and hide before your precious little girlfriend finds you, ‘Drakey’!” Hermione said, coming so close to the high pitch that Pansy used when calling him that sickening nick-name.

Pansy was drawing closer.

He turned back to Granger, preparing to spew another insult at her, but he couldn’t waste time; he had to go somewhere else. If Pansy caught him, he might have to kill himself on the spot.

Moving quickly, he caught up with two other Slytherins in his year, towards the front of the line.

“Johnson, Abbis.” He acknowledged them.

“Malfoy.” They greeting, monotonously in unison.

“Draco, darling where are you?”

Big, sly smirks skated across the boy’s faces.

“Pansy bothering you again, Malfoy?”

“Shut up and hide me, will you?” He hissed.

 “Six ’ears, this way!” Hagrid called.

“The stupid oaf might be able to save you this time, Malfoy.” Johnson teased.

“Come on.” Draco told them, ignoring his comment and leading them towards the front of the line.

He could see other sixth years starting to make their way into the boats, but he pushed past them, angry retorts and yells following them. The three of them jumped into the boat, sending one student nearly sprawling into the bank of the river, their angry retorts ignored as Draco cursed the boat onward.

“Go! Go!” He yelled at the floor of the boat. He was surprised when it jolted and started to glide on the black sheet of water.

“Draco!” She cried, waving to him from the bank of the lake, “Well, I’ll just see you at dinner then!”

Draco let go of the breath he was holding. The other two sniggered and smirked. Draco couldn’t help but smirk along with them, amazed at his luck.

“Stupid cow.” He mumbled under his breath.




He waited impatiently, tapping his fingers on the table for Dumbledore’s annual speech, “As many of you know,” he started, gesturing to the timid first years, “The Forbidden Forest is off limits at all times….”

Draco loudly sighed, turning a head or two. How many times did he have to hear the same speech?

Finally, the last year I have to listen to the stupid oaf, Draco thought to himself, rolling his eyes.

 “…with that said, dig in!”

Food magically appeared in the empty dishes and drinks filled the goblets. First years in every house squealed as mash potatoes and roast beef appeared on their plates.

Draco wasn’t sure what to eat, he wasn’t sure he was hungry at all. He did, however, drink a few cups of pumpkin juice. The cool liquid slithered down his throat, forcing him to take sharp breaths as he felt it hit his stomach, icily refreshing. He shivered, but drank deeply again.

The buzz of talk and conversation bothered Draco’s ears, who was staying unusually quiet himself, watching the others talk cheerfully amongst each other.

He dished himself a small amount of bread pudding, taking small bites, relishing in the affect the warm pudding had throughout his body, thawing his insides from the pumpkin juice. He didn’t even notice the heavy, delightful taste as it slid down his throat when the Great Hall doors flew open.

There was so much talk and chatter, very little stopped. The house ghosts kept gliding high above the tables, occasionally dipping down and saying hello to the students and faculty.

No one seemed to notice until the person who caused the disruption walked in.

It was her.

The girl from Diagon Alley.

She walked through the door, between the Gryffindor and Ravenclaw tables without hesitation or taking in her surroundings. She was more magnificent than when he saw her in Diagon Alley earlier that week, wearing a heavy burgundy velvet cloak lined in an intricately detailed gold and red flowered design. He could see her smooth skin and those unbelievable, sparking eyes, even from where he sat. Her hair was tucked into the back of her hood. Her heels clicked with purpose as she walked across the floor.

She walked with cockiness; she didn’t look at any of the students, who hushed for a moment, watching with curiosity as she passed. Her focus was on Dumbledore, who was returned her gaze with a smile, peering at her over his half moon spectacles. She smiled beautifully at his acknowledgement, revealing perfect teeth.

He didn’t notice until then, that all the boys in the other houses were looking at her with wild desire, even Potter seemed mesmerized. He was surprised to see the Weasel continuing to eat, although he did mutter a greeting to her as she passed, which she returned kindly. The Gryffindor boys leaned towards him, pressing for information about his connection to her.

They only wish they were worthy, Draco thought, as if deeming himself already the commendable choice for her.

He heard snickering and quiet laughter as he looked to his right to see Blaise making suggestive hip thrusts, snickering, “Wouldn’t I like a piece of that…”

Draco glared at him, Blaise caught his eye and sneered, “Don’t deny that you would too Draco…would be a breath of fresh air after that hag you’ve been with for so long.”

He didn’t know where Pansy was, but Blaise wouldn’t have said something so heinous unless she was in ear shot. But that’s what Slytherins did: they were hateful and cruel to each other, merely pretending to be friends when they could have cared less.

But Draco was indifferent to his insults; he looked up at the girl. True, burning desire, something he hadn’t felt in a long time, flared within him, and it was eating him up inside.




She couldn’t help but smile at him, the legend she was so eager to meet, so eager to talk to.

“Professor,” She greeted, extending her slender hand.

“Miss Delacour, the pleasure is all mine, we have been waiting for you.” He smiled.

“I apologize for showing up late; it seemed we had missed the train well over fifteen minutes. London is a place unvisited by my family.” She apologized, choosing her words carefully, knowing that hundreds of pairs of eyes were watching her.

“Would you join me in my office? I think it rude to carry over a conversation while interrupting the students’ dinners.”

“Of course,” She answered, “After you, Headmaster.”

Dumbledore grabbed his armrests as he pushed himself from his high-backed chair, gesturing towards a door to his right. Ashley walked the length of the table, disappearing after Dumbledore into the dark hallway.

Talk buzzed louder than ever as students from other houses rushed over to their friends, wondering if any word of the girl had been spread yet. Much to their disappointment, no one knew who she was. Draco stole another glance at Weasley, the only person who seemed to have known her, who kept his head low and finished his dinner.




“That was not the best way to introduce myself, but there was no one wondering the halls, I assumed everyone was eating.” She confessed.

“I enjoyed it thoroughly. There comes a time for change in Hogwarts, even if it is a simple difference of making an entrance. I am glad you have finally arrived,” Dumbledore beamed, “now, for the Sorting Hat.”

He rose from his seat, and looked upon a high shelf where the hat had reappeared after the sorting was finished.

“Accio Hat.’’ He began. The Hat flew to Dumbledore’s outstretched hand, where he gripped it gently. He pushed himself from his seat with his free hand, rounding the corner of his desk to gently place it on the girl’s head.

“Ah,” The Hat chuckled, “this one’s feisty, has a temper, like that of a lion. Very forward, blunt, a quality I’m sure was deemed unlady-like at her previous school. Hufflepuff’s are just and quiet. She would not do well there. Ravenclaw looks good, but not quite as studious as that bunch.”

The girl frowned at the hat, her eyes glaring at his rim.

“Indeed far too noble for Slytherin. Gryffindor’s house will suit her just fine. Full of courage and undying loyalty, the two principles Godric prided himself on.”

Dumbledore smiled, “Then it is settled, Gryffindor it is.”

Suddenly, a knock sounded at the door.

“Enter, Severus.” Dumbledore called, whisking the Hat back onto its high self, where it would remain dormant until the next year.

Ashley frowned as a greasy, black haired man appeared. He was tall, covered in black with a bored expression on his face.

“You called for Mr. Malfoy, sir?”

“Indeed I did, Severus, thank you.” Dumbledore replied.

The man named Severus inclined his head, stepping aside to reveal a pale skinned boy with slicked blond hair.

She felt her heart flutter; he was the same boy in Diagon Alley that had bumped into her.

He was sinfully handsome: he had to be at least six feet tall and wearing black robes with green lining. Cold pools of grey reflected hardship and discipline in his eyes. He was well built, very well built, she added to herself.

She quickly caught herself staring at him, seeing the boy smirk out of the corner of her eye as she looked at the floor in embarrassment.

 “Miss Delacour, this is Mr. Malfoy. Although he is not in Gryffindor, I’ve asked him to show your Commons and see you through. Mr. Malfoy is Head Boy and Miss Granger is Head Girl, who is in Gryffindor. But I believe she was dealing with a student who had sprouted a beard.” He told them.

They caught each other’s eye once more. Draco’s pale skin gave way to a bright crimson, looking away quickly.

“Miss Delacour, you will find your robes and trunk in the girls’ dormitories. I believe there is a choice of empty beds that may suit you. Miss Granger has already been notified of your arrival and will be much help with your studies and any further questions you have. She is top of her class, and since you seem to continue the quick wit I’ve seen from your family, I think you will make a fine pair.”

“Thank you, Headmaster.” She nodded.

“I believe there is nothing more to say…Mr. Malfoy?”

Draco, who had been peering into an odd shaped vase whipped his head back to Dumbledore, “Um, what?”

“I was merely inquiring if there was anything you would like to add that I may have forgotten?” He asked in mild amusement.

He looked at the girl, who gave him a small smile. “No.”

“Well, you know what to do then. I shall return to the feast.” He rose.

“Sir?” Draco asked, “I can’t let her in her Common Room…?”

“Oh, yes, Miss Granger should be waiting for you as soon as the young lad is dealt with, Miss Delacour.”

Granger? Draco thought, Ick. It’s a disappointment she’ll have to be exposed to such a poor influence.

Dumbledore started for the door, “If you will follow me, please.”

The young students followed him, both keeping their distance from each other.

When they got to the bottom of the staircase, the gargoyle jumped back to his guarding place. The old wizard turned back to them, his robes swishing on the ground, “Do as you wish from here, but make sure you each are back in your Common Rooms before eleven o’clock.”

They both nodded as they watched the Headmaster walk away.

They turned to face each other. Draco clearly felt awkward, but felt slightly relieved at the look of discomfort plastered on her face, not looking like the girl full of self-confidence that floated down the hall moments before.

“You’re Draco?” Her voice was like honey, sweet and soft.

His voice was lost, not having enough time to recover before she thought he was dumb, so he nodded instead.

“I would walk away, knowing how awkward this is, but I don’t know where my Common Room is.” She grimaced.

“Oh, right.” He mumbled, “Um, this way.”

He only had a vague idea of where he was going, sure he had terrorized enough young Gryffindors to send them off running to their Common Room as he watched them scamper away to escape his wrath. He had only a vague idea of where he was taking her.

“I’m not really sure where I’m going.” He admitted, rubbing the back of his neck. He had never felt this nervous was angry he couldn’t control his emotions better, unable to bring himself to be the usual pompous womanizer that the girls swooned over.

He started to lead her slowly down the corridor.

“I’m Ashley, by the way,” She said.

“Oh.” He nodded.

“Oh”? Come on, Draco you’ve got to be better than that! She won’t be interested in someone who can’t match her confidence…you, as someone who rules the school, should know that.

This was his one chance, his one cry for help to escape the person that he had become, that everyone looked down upon him for and that people hated and despised. He wanted to escape the path his father chose for him, he wanted to escape from becoming a Death Eater; he wanted to escape Voldemort more than Harry Potter wanted to walk out of the final battle alive. He wanted her to know that he was drowning in misery over his dismal life, hoping that she could pull him out of the black abyss he had been lost in for so long.

She was the one person who didn’t know him. He could start all over again with her. This was his chance for a new beginning.

“So…you’re in Slytherin?” She asked.

“Yeah.” He answered, “And you’re in Gryffindor.”

“It seems so.” She replied.

Draco didn’t care to hide his disgust, curling his lip.

“Does that bother you?”

“Slytherins and Gryffindors are enemy houses.”

She frowned, “Are we supposed to be enemies, then?”

 “I’m not sure.” He shrugged uncomfortably.

He hadn’t noticed that they had ascended the many flights of the Grand Staircase to the seventh floor. Hermione was standing feet away, glaring at Draco, arms crossed over her chest, foot tapping impatiently.

“Look before you go, I have to ask you something.” Draco said, grabbing her arm. A weird sensation shot through him, like a powerful energy that quickly rushed through his whole body. It was a cold, but yet it burned as though he were on fire. He quickly let go, not having a clue what caused it. He looked at her strangely, but she didn’t seem to notice the surge of emotions that had attacked him.

“What?” She asked.

“Do you know Harry Potter?”

“Who doesn’t?”

“But do you really know him?” He was afraid of the question, but even more afraid of her answer:

“Yes. He’s at my brother in laws house all summer. My sister is married to Bill Weasley.”

His heart dropped to his feet, this couldn’t be the girl.

“Well, goodnight.” She furrowed her eyebrows, unsure of the source of his needing to ask about her family relations. He watched as she climbed the last steps up to Hermione, who led her through the Fat Lady’s portrait, throwing one last glare at Malfoy, who didn’t bother to return it.




He lay in his private quarters, staring up at the ceiling. He had never felt so helpless in his life as his biggest fear had been confirmed: Ashley was the girl he was to seduce and tear down to get to Potter.

This was the girl he saw in his dream, being attacked by an unknown shadow.

This was the girl he had to save.


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