Draught of Dreams

Part I

This story occurs in Sixth Year at Hogwarts and is a No Voldemort AU. The art was drawn by the eiramrelyat_art on Instagram. We collaborated for a fest called Double the Trouble on AO3. Be sure to check her out because she draws gorgeous Dramione/HP art on her page. 

Enjoy!

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... Dad has joined a golf club and is never home, which I wouldn't normally mind but without you around, and Helen being cross with me for missing her potlach two Sundays ago, I can't stand it anymore. And to make matters worse, he's cooped up in his office when he is home, reading paleontology textbooks because apparently brachiosauruses are more enthralling than spending time with his dear old wife. I miss you darling, please write more.

"Hey, Granger?" Malfoy called as I passed his seat. He had that snarky grin on his mouth that I'd love to knock right off his pale, moronic face. "Blaise actually learned something interesting in Muggle Studies for once. They were talking about your late descendant. What was his name again?" He peered at his friend.

"Look," Blaise presented a Star Wars poster, "Chewbacca. First cousin? The resemblance is uncanny."

Malfoy blew a big, green bubble with his chewing gum and a burst of mint smacked the air. He watched me mischievously, one brow nocked higher than the other in silent victory.

"Did you tell Malfoy about the part where Leia kisses her brother? I'm sure his inbred hormones will flare right up," I replied.

His jaw clenched, freezing for a moment, and then he began to chew again. "There's something called a hairbrush. Maybe you should read up on it." He studied my hair disdainfully. "Or maybe you should chop it all off and spare our eyes the obscenity of flying split ends."

"One lock of my hair contains more IQ than your entire obstinate brain."

"Ever heard of overkill? No wonder your dumb git of a ginger boyfriend dumped your arse for that simpleton," he nodded towards Lavender, who happened to be sitting in front of Blaise, "your IQ was strangling him at night."

Her shoulders tensed, but she didn't turn.

I was about to respond, but the door slammed open signalling Snape's grand entrance.

Three steps down the aisle, I realized a pair of Slytherins had taken my usual seat. The only spot left was in front of Malfoy—and right next to Lavender.

At least I'd get the last word. "Didn't realize you were so riveted by Gryffindor gossip. But suppose the Slytherin scoop is only so fascinating when everyone marries their second cousins."

"So long as we get to avoid bushy-haired heirs with dirt in their veins."

"You should consider yourself lucky if your spawn has frizz. Better than fused limbs and a lumpy skull." I turned around, feeling rather proud of myself.

Snape started to speak in his low drawl. Behind me, the Slytherins snickered.

I swiveled around to see what they thought was so funny.

The both of them looked down at their textbooks, avoiding eye-contact.

"Have your eyes jumped to the back of your... head... Ms. Granger?" Snape hovered next to my desk, his long and imposing shadow towering over me.

I flushed. "No, Professor."

His black brows furrowed, and he tilted his head to the side. "You really ought to find a comb," he returned to the front of the class, "or you'll never know what odd objects might... stick... in there."

What?

I touched the back of my head and something wet and tacky strung onto my finger. A piece snapped off. It was bright green and stunk of peppermint.

He.

Did.

Not.

Toss.

His.

Gum.

Into.

My.

Hair.

"MALFOY!" I screamed, shoving his textbook into his gut. "You disgusting, filthy, spiteful, sorry, little slob! I'm going to murder you!"

Silence descended upon the classroom.

Tears prickled my eyes.

He'd spat his gum near the top of my head, meaning I'd have to cut a chunk off up there, meaning there was no fixing it unless I planned to cut my hair short.

"Death threats in my classroom, Ms. Granger?" Snape returned to our row. Index, middle, ring finger, and pinky draping over his elbow in bleak irritation.

"My hair," I said, choking on a sob. "He spat gum into my hair!"

His black, lifeless eyes panned to Malfoy. "Is this... true... Mr. Malfoy?"

"Certainly not, Professor." His grin was far too smug.

"It is, Sir." A new voice butted in. A surprising one.

From beside me, Lavender spoke, "Malfoy was chewing gum, he's sitting right behind her, and he isn't chewing it anymore. His breath probably smells like it."

Malfoy scowled at her.

Blaise said, "It's not true, Sir. I was here the whole time and I would've seen if he'd done it."

"Come here, Mr. Malfoy." Snape demanded. His stool squeaked back, and he shuffled towards Snape, looking slightly paler than usual. "Open your mouth."

"Sir..."

"I said open your mouth."

And so he did, of course he did. If it were a couple of years ago, Snape would've had to crouch but Malfoy was his height now so he merely leaned closer and sniffed. And then he came behind me and sniffed the green gum stuck to my precious curls. "That was highly immature, Mr. Malfoy. Ten points from Slytherin."

A collective groan rose from half of the class.

"And ten points from Gryffindor."

"What?" I shouted. "I did nothing!"

"You threatened to murder another student. That's hardly... nothing." He shot me a pointed look. "I grow tired of these dim-witted disputes eating into class time that is sorely needed for your oafish minds. The both of you will serve detention every day for the next two weeks." He swept to the front again. "Now let us commence if nobody else has anymore death threats," he shot me a dark glare, then turned to Malfoy, "or petty pranks."