Safe

Chapter 8: Burn

Burning in hell.

That was how Draco felt in that bloody horrible nightmare. He wasn't really in hell, though; it was more of a mindset that was burning him from the inside out. His heart ached with fire, and his head throbbed with fury. It was a nightmare! Draco had never felt pain when he was asleep! He couldn't even remember if the excruciating pain was physical or emotional. And most of all, he despised that the pain had to do with Granger.

Draco knew.

This was the same damn dream where his - Draco shuddered - lips met hers. After the war. In the empty battlefield. But she didn't come. Draco felt his heartbeat increase steadily as he started walking around the grassy field that slowly began to look like Hogwarts.

Draco didn't know where he was going; he let his feet take him. He entered the gates, and the familiar landscape vanished again. The school had just been part of his hallucination. The dream was taunting him, creating suspense. He let out a shaky breath, and suddenly the air turned cold. Draco watched the mist his exhale had generated drift away from him. He trudged on.

Hogwarts kept flashing before him, but every time he felt he was getting closer, it would disappear. When it happened for the seventh time in a row, Draco yelled out in frustration. "Let me see her!" He hadn't meant to say that aloud. Draco wasn't concerned about her. No way. He thought that the dream was taking him to her. Just like last time.

Finally, the school came into clear view, and did not evaporate when he came close. Draco was nervous. Something deep down, in the pit of his stomach, told him to turn back. "No," he mumbled to himself. He walked, and wished he had listened to the voice that was encouraging him to look away.

That was where the fire started. His heart stung, and he tried to pull his eyelids down to block the sight before him. His head was pounding, and he begged for the headache to go away. Draco was frozen. Numb. Broken. Burned.

Granger and the DAMNED Weasel were groping at each other. Their lips were connected, and Weasley's curious-as-hell hands were either in her hair or at her waist. Granger's were... Draco felt like he was going to vomit when he saw where her hands were. It wasn't like her at all. She was too innocent, too pure. Both sets of eyes were closed, unable to sense Draco's presence. What had he been thinking about last night?

Draco stood rooted to the spot, his feet not able to move. The anger that built up inside of him was nothing like he'd ever experienced. Yes, he was a defected Slytherin Death Eater, but he felt like he was capable of murder at that very moment. He wanted Weasley gone. Dead.

His whole body ached of torture and ashes, but before he felt like he was going to burst into flames, the dream - no, nightmare - faded to black. And he woke up.

Draco remembered last night. Well, more like very bloody early this morning. Granger had asked him what he thought of her and Weasley's... relationship. His head throbbed again at the thought. Boy, did Draco have an answer for her.

Their relationship was as bloody phony as any Draco had seen or heard of. There was no passion, no true feelings. Ideals. They thought they had to be together. It seemed right, but it wasn't. Granger's too smart for the ginger pet. She was too innocent for him. Their relationship made no sense. Granger claimed that Weasley respected her, but he didn't. How many times did the arse make her cry? More times than Draco, he could easily bet.

Irritated to all hell, Draco responded to Granger's questions that day like a bloody child. She would ask what they were to eat for meals, but Draco only answered with a "whatever." When asked when Draco would talk to her like a man, Draco shot, "When I goddamn feel like it." She asked him why he was acting like a child, and he didn't answer then. "More of a child than I thought," she had whispered.