Set in the first chapter of my Draco/Hermione story 'How Things Are Supposed To Be'. Draco had a nightmare while staying at 12 Grimmauld Place that confirms his love for Hermione.
Draco groggily turned over in his sleep, expecting to feel Hermione laying next to him. But there was nothing. He suddenly became aware that the bed he was lying in felt somehow different. He was sure that Hermione’s bed in 12 Grimmauld Place wasn’t this large, and the sheets weren’t this silky. He opened his eyes and saw that he was back in his bedroom at Malfoy Manor.
“What the…?” he croaked, brushing his white-blonde hair from his face.
Just then there was a long, drawn out, blood-curdling scream coming from the floor below, which caused him to sit upright with a start. He knew that scream. It was the same scream that had been haunting his dreams for over a year. It was –
“Hermione!” he said out loud.
He scrambled out of bed and out of the door, before running down the stairs two steps at a time. There was another scream which sounded more like a pleading cry of agony. It was coming from the drawing room. He rushed over to the large double doors and swung them open.
There lying on the floor by the fire place was the trembling form of Hermione. He went over and dropped to his knees beside her. She looked so weak. She was barely conscious, her breathing was short and quick and her face and body were covered with lots of little cuts and bruises.
“…Draco.” she whispered in a strained voice.
“Hermione, sweetheart, what happened to you?” he said.
His heart was racing; all he could feel was panic and dread. Who had done this to her?
“Well, isn’t this a charming scene.” said a deep, drawling and frighteningly familiar voice.
No, he thought. It couldn’t be…
Draco slowly turned to face none other that his father, who stood with his cane in one hand and his wand in the other, disgust etched across his pale, pointed face. Even more fear seem to wash over Draco when he saw that behind his father stood his Aunt Bellatrix, her wand also in hand, a look of pure sadistic pleasure in her mad eyes.
“W-what have you done to her?” he said, trying to hide the fear in his voice and failing miserably.
Bellatrix let out a girlish and sinister giggle.
“Awww,” she cooed in a babyish voice. “The traitor is worried about his ickle Mudblood girlfwend.”
“There’s no need to worry,” drawled Lucius. “She only received what a filthy little Mudblood like her deserves.”
Draco tried to suppress how truly terrified he was, but his heart felt as if it was going to burst through his chest.
“And now,” said Lucius, as Bellatrix laughed menacingly. “You shall receive what a blood traitor like you deserves.”
He raised his wand, pointing it directly at Draco’s chest. Draco felt the curse hit him with overwhelming force. It was a pain like no other; he had never felt pain like it in his entire life. It felt as if all his joints were being twisted, all his bones being broken at once, his nails being pulled out with pliers. He wanted the pain to end. He was sure that he was screaming but he didn’t hear, the pain was all consuming. He wanted to die, he was sure this pain would drive him into insanity…
And then, just as soon as it started, it was over. Draco found himself lying on the floor next to a sobbing Hermione, his body aching, his face streaked with tears.
“Had enough, Drakie-poo?” said Bellatrix in the same cruel, babyish voice. “Or does the filthy blood traitor still need to be taught a lesson?”
“No! Don’t hurt him!” cried Hermione, who had managed to sit up, as Bellatrix raised her wand.
The malicious grin disappeared from Bellatrix’s face and was replaced with an angry sneer. She and Lucius’ eyes fell upon the cowering Hermione.
“I don’t remember anyone giving you permission to speak, Mudblood.” said Lucius in a dangerous tone.
“It insists on showing off its Gryffindor bravery,” said Bellatrix, more to herself that anyone else. “But the filthy Mudblood will know better when I’m through with it.”
Bellatrix aimed he wand at Hermione’s chest and shouted “Crucio!”
Hermione’s scream filled the room and crashed against Draco’s eardrums. The sound of her scream hurt him worse than the Cruciatus Curse had done. It seemed to cut into him like a cold knife.
“Stop it!” he pleaded. “She’s done nothing wrong! Stop!”
The curse was lifted, and Hermione was left whimpering on the ground.
“She has done everything wrong.” said Lucius harshly. “She has dared to call herself a witch when she has filthy Muggle blood in her veins. And now you, of such pure and noble blood, have been seduced by this scum. I thought you knew better that that, Draco.”
“Oh, save your breath, Lucius.” insisted Bellatrix. “That dirty little traitor isn’t worth it.”
An evil smile stretched across her face.
“The Dark Lord,” she said with frightening affection. “will set you straight, traitor. And take care of your Mudblood girlfriend too.”
“No-“ Draco began, but it was too late. Bellatrix had rolled up her sleeve and, with a mad cackle, had pressed her two fingers against her Dark Mark, calling her beloved Dark Lord to the scene. Draco’s own Dark Mark burned black on the skin of his left arm.
Nothing but terror possessed Draco. The Dark Lord was coming, Hermione had passed out completely now and he himself was wandless and unable to defend her. They were surely going to die, he could see no way of escaping.
Lucius pulling him roughly off the ground by the hair and held his wand threateningly at his throat. Bellatrix’s face was swimming with admiration and joy as Lord Voldermort Apparated into the drawing room, his red eyes blazing, his pale skin giving off an eerie glow in the light of the fire.
“My Lord,” said Bellatrix bowing her head, her eyes wide as if she had never seen anybody or anything as awe inspiring as him.
“Where is the blood traitor?” said Voldermort.
A shiver crept down Draco’s spine at the sound of the Dark Lord’s cold, high voice.
“Here, my Lord.” said Lucius, tightening his grip on the terrified Draco.
“Good.” said Voldermort softly. “It pains me, Lucius, to see your only son reduced to this.” He gestured towards Hermione. “But hopefully the events of tonight will teach him that, although he may have a fleeting desire for her, this filthy Mudblood is unworthy of his affections. I know that those who have had there minds polluted usually pay with their lives for their treachery, but I believe young Draco has potential and it would be a shame to spill any pure magical blood. He may have given into temptation now, but once he is shown the consequences I am sure he will know better that to stray again.”
Voldermort drew his wand from his black robes and pointed it at the unconscious Hermione.
“Seeing the death of this worthless Mudblood will show you the error of your traitorous ways, Draco.” he said.
Draco felt as if he would surely implode with the horror he was feeling. He couldn’t stand back and watch his Hermione be killed.
“NOOOOO!!!” he shouted.
Everything seemed to happen in slow motion. Draco managed to fight away from his father’s clutches. As he heard the Dark Lord say those two horrid words that ending all life as if coming from a great distance, he rushed forward and crouched over Hermione, shielding her body with his own. And then the room was engulfed by a flash of blinding green light, and he could feel his life being sucked from him…
He woke up with a start, his heart was beating rapidly as if he’d just run a marathon. He could feel the sheets of the bed sticking to his sweaty skin. It took him a while to remember where he was. He was expecting to see his father and Bellatrix looming over him, followed closely by the Dark Lord himself, his wand aloft, ready to kill.
“Draco, are you alright?”
He turned to see Hermione sitting up next to him with the bed sheets covering her naked body, looking concerned. He was trying to think of something to say to her, but his brain didn’t seem to be functionally yet.
“Sweetheart, you were talking in your sleep,” she said, sounding worried. “It seemed like you were having a nightmare.”
“What was I saying?” Draco managed to say quietly.
Hermione looked weary. “You were saying my name. And… and ‘please to hurt her’. You sounded so scared, Draco… I had to wake you.”
Draco sat up and gave Hermione a long, tight hug. He could tell that she was confused, but she hugged him back anyway. She could tell that he needed it.
“You don’t have to tell me what you were dreaming about if you don’t want to, love.” she said, as they parted.
He wanted to tell her, as he knew that she would be able to comfort him, but he just couldn’t.
He kissed her goodnight and went back to his own bedroom. But as he lay in his bed sleep just would not find him. All he could think about was protecting Hermione, protecting her from those would never approve of them being together, protecting her against people that he was once like. Draco knew then that what he felt for Hermione was serious. His relationship with her was more than just a fling. He loved her. He loved her more than he had ever loved anyone before. And he would rather die than live in a world without her.