Dramione - The Sweetest Dream

Chapter 16

Draco woke up to find Hermione's face inches from his, her eyes flooded with concern.

"Sweetheart, what's wrong?" She stroked the side of his face with her fingers. He immediately knew what must have happened. He suffered from horrible night terrors ever since his First Year. He couldn't remember last night's dream. Not wanting to abuse any potions, he just endured the nightmares. He had been told he would often scream in his sleep. His cheeks flushed red with embarrassment.

"Draco, I get flashbacks, too," Hermione looked away not wanting to meet his gaze. She had never told anyone about them, not even Harry, Ron, and Ginny. She had never known how to deal with them. She would get knots in her stomach due to the stress of reliving the memories of the battle. The memories that haunted her most, that plagued her with nightmares and sleepless nights; the way Belatrix Lestrange had tortured her ruthlessly.

He reached up to tuck a loose strand of hair behind her ear before kissing her passionately. They were interrupted by a patronus in the form of a goat entering the room. It showed itself, only to look at the door and back at them before disappearing. The message was clear enough; Aberforth was ready to talk.

They dressed in silence, exchanging a lingering kiss before descending the stairs. Aberforth waited in the back of the room in a dark booth. He pointed his wand at the door where a rusty sign flipped over to read "CLOSED" to any customers. He didn't bother with offering polite greetings to Draco and Hermione; he had always viewed them as a complete waste of time.

"There's only been one other time that I can remember something like this happening, and it was on a smaller scale. Only two magical folk were affected, one witch and one wizard. The witch was pure blood, the wizard Muggle born. It was after Grindelwald had been killed. He was especially brutal to the witch and wizard, no one knows why. But regardless, after he died, they completely lost their ability to work magic. I think it's similar to how some...people are affected by being tortured with the Cruciatus Curse." Everyone at the table knew he was referring to Neville Longbottom's parents.

"I think it's something to do with trauma, when they just can't take it anymore, they break. Something happens; I don't know what, and I don't know how to fix it." With that he sat back and sipped on his firewhiskey, even though it couldn't have even been nine in the morning.

"What can we do?" Draco spoke slowly, but there was no mistaking the determination in his eyes.

"Just hope it doesn't happen to the two of you, I suppose," Aberforth spoke nonchalantly, as if he were slightly bored.

"Who else could help us? There has to be someone who was close to Grindelwald. Just tell us who they are," Hermione spoke confidently, trying to hide the frustration in her voice. How could Aberforth not seem to care more?

"Listen, I don't even want anything to do with this! I've seen this before and it's nasty business. I just want to be left in peace," he slammed his fist down on the table on his last word. His eyes looked mad, he was drunk. They were also unmistakably glassy, as if he were on the brink of tears. Hermione placed her hand on his.

"Just tell us the name, and we'll leave you, sir," she tried to be sympathetic. The man had gone through so much, and she knew he was good. She thought of his younger sister's portrait hanging in his room. He would have to be reminded of what had happened to her every day. He did deserve peace.

"He Who Must Not Be Named spent a summer with Grindelwald when he was still Tom Riddle. It's said that he perfected his skills in the Dark Arts while living with him. It is also said that he passed along his knowledge to his most loyal follow."

Hermione's throat closed, her hand clenched into a fist beneath the table. She forced herself to utter the name.

"Belatrix Lestrange."