A Dream Worth Keeping

Must Be A Nightmare - Chapter 1

It was the pungent smell of vanilla that made Hermione open up her eyes. Her head felt heavy, as though she was hit in the temple with a Firebolt racing broom. The white ceiling above her felt exceedingly bright forcing her eyes to clamp shut, letting the darkness overcome her again. Confusion fluttered throughout her mind considering her four-poster bed was dark at the top, not white.

Slowly, her right eye slid open allowing just a hint of light to evade her sight, enough to stare at the ceiling. It was still eggshell white. She clamped her eyes shut again, entirely still confused.

Sounds of giggling and deep laughter could be heard in the distance, but she was not sure if the voices were real or whether she was imagining them. Having expected to wake up in her four-poster and finding herself waking up to a white ceiling already had her confused so she no longer knew what was real. Basically, the girl questioned everything.

Hermione pushed her petite body on her elbows and opened her dark eyes for the third time, revealing a room far from her own. She was surrounded by black blankets and silvery sheets, light speckles of shimmering glitter flecked all over the soft material. Her eyes had adjusted to the light allowing her to focus her caramel orbs on the actual walls. She realized the walls weren't white, but more of a cream color. The surrounding furniture was dark, almost black. The large room appeared big enough to fit ten people, but clutter free, tidy, and spacious.

Oh Merlin, the girl felt confused.

Sitting herself up fully, Hermione allowed the sleep-warm blankets to fall from her upper body. She looked to her left and met a window, covering what appeared to be morning sunlight with a thin silver curtain. The lustrous silver veil swayed against the outer edges of the wall with wind from the long balcony pushing it back and forth.

To her right she saw another creamy wall. An extravagant side-table slid along, a vase deposited in the center, filled with gorgeous white lilies. Only two chairs grazed the side, both looked made of dark wood and silver trimming.

Where the hell am I?

Finally, she took notice to herself. Well, herself physically, at least. Her hair had caught her attention. Knowing full well she was in her sixth year at Hogwarts, her curly brown locks reached only a few inches beyond her shoulders, frizzy and out of control as ever. However, the hair currently attached to her head grazed her back at a jaw-dropping length. The tresses practically reached down to her waist, still just as curly and rampant as ever.

Pushing her thoughts about her unruly hair aside, her lovely eyes continued to scan the odd room in an attempt to figure out something of familiarity.

Tossing the blankets back, she dropped her small feet to the floor, instantly warming her. The floor transpired as marble, but the feeling consisted of a serene softness like carpet and warm like every tile was heated with precision and care. She stood to her full potential at a short five foot and three inches. She was petite, but feisty none the less.

Realizing she was clad in only a nightgown, her eyes scanned over the rest of her body. She knew for a fact she did not own the material wrapped around her thin frame. It was not as though she slept in a chastity belt covered in layers upon layers of thick, itchy fabric, but she generally preferred to wear more comfortable attire to bed. This was...well it was different. A white silk gown swathed at her top, held up only by thin straps. The material clung to her body, to her every luscious curve, until it reached her mid-thighs. It was the sort of thing Lavender Brown wore to bed; not her.

Another noise from outside of the room caused Hermione to jump on the inlaid floor. After falling back on the bed with a loud thud, she shook her head out of confusion and fear.

What is going on?!

At last, her trembling feet found the floor again, standing back up to observe the room. Taking a few steps beyond the ridiculously large and lavished bed, she walked down three steps toward the center of the room where a changing area emerged. A breathtaking chandelier hung above her head sparkling from a mere three candles lit in sporadic locales.

A large vanity sat undisturbed at her left. Hermione walked over to the delightful bench noting its elegant, classic beauty. The oval shaped mirror adorned and littered with red and silver jewels sparkled in the light. On the silver table laid various possessions; from jewelry to perfumes to hairbrushes, the vanity was organized and plentiful.

She looked to the other side and sure enough, through reasoning of her deductive logic, another vanity table sat only escritoire clearly belonged to a man. Unlike the other davenport featuring feminine products and beautiful regalia, this console contained sumptuous bottles of fine cologne and a picture frame. Quickly she realized it held a picture of a woman, smiling and batting her dark orbs sweetly, as all magical pictures moved, up to meet Hermione's own eyes–

Oh Merlin, that's me. That's my face.

Indeed Hermione smiled up at her only the Hermione highlighted was unambiguously a much older girl. Her heartbeat heightened considerably as she turned away from the desk, no longer wanting to look at an older version of herself smiling suggestively.

Like through the force of magic, her feet managed to move away from the dreaded spot she sensed her skin had physically grown to. The room continued on much like a single room house rather than just a bedroom. A comfortable looking couch had been placed in front of a fireplace at an angle allowing the occupants to stare at the hearth. The couch was black, made of fine material. Hermione could tell by touch it must have cost a hefty sum of galleons.

The magnificence of the fiery-nook swept Hermione up entirely. Fine materials were sifted throughout the fireplace, the top of it adorned with pictures and sentimental keepsakes. She ignored the four pictures, in fear of finding herself in another one, but glanced at the possessions lining the top rim. An ornament about the size of her small hand, shaped of a red and gold 'G' clearly stood for Gryffindor. She did not hesitate to come to the conclusion observing the familiar colors and bold scripture practically screaming of bravery and extreme courage.

Moving further along, still ignoring the various pictures, she scanned for the other ephemera on the fireplace. The girl nearly fell over when her eyes came across an ornament, also about the same size as her pale hand, stained with the colors of silver and green.

"Slytherin," she gasped in a horrified tone, staring at the 'S' flaunting arrogance and condescension. Stepping away, she fell back into the couch pulling her legs up to her rapid moving chest.

Where am I? No, more importantly, WHO AM I?!

The sixth year girl's chest heaved up and down, attempting to remain calm, nonetheless, failing miserably. She remembered going to bed after listening to boring gossip between Lavender and Pavarti. She remembered thinking about Harry and Ron who were frustrated with her since she had again scolded them about venturing to bed, disrupting their intense game of wizarding chess. She hated having her friends mad at her, but she was a prefect and it was her responsibility to make sure the students went to bed on time. She remembered feeling tired and exhausted, a long day of studying overtaking her body.

Then why can't I remember anything else? What is wrong with me?

Jerking her head to her right after hearing the clear sound of a door opening behind her and then slamming, she gasped. Her skin nearly fell off as her bones turned to mint-jelly, looking at the man pressed firmly against the door. Leaning his back against the oak wood, his face became clearly visible.

"Malfoy?"

His flush faced, surrounded by a complete disarray of blond hair, caught her off guard almost as much as his odd attire. The man wore green, Slytherin green, sleeping pants along with a white shirt, clinging to his lean body. She not only had never seen him in pajamas, but she'd never seen him look so–casual. She figured Malfoy would be the type of guy to sleep in fine linens, not cotton.

"I swear to Merlin those kids are getting faster everyday. They certainly get that from me, not you."

"Malfoy...what is going on?"

"Well your daughter thought it would be funny to wake me up to play a game of hide and seek. She is getting so good at this game that I'm not sure I'll be able to do this for much longer," he said smoothly with a smile Hermione was unfamiliar with.

My daughter? Wake Malfoy up? My daughter? Hide and seek? MY DAUGHTER?!

"What the hell is going on? What are you talking about?"

"Hermione?" He stepped toward her, a look of concern written all over his pale face. "Are you feeling alright? I didn't think the bump would make you this loopy."

"What bump? What are you talking about? And why the hell did you call me Hermione? I thought it was Mudblood or Granger to you, right?"

Draco stopped walking, looking both hurt and confused. She hadn't spoken with such malice and contempt in years. What in the name of Merlin is going on?

"Come on, love, stop messing with me. Roxy has been doing that all morning," muttered Draco, a weak smile tugging the corners of his lips. Draco straightened himself out and prepared for Hermione to come down from whatever half-asleep state she had gotten herself in.

"Roxy? Who the hell is Roxy? Malfoy where are we?" she asked impatiently, growing tired of his antics. Hermione Granger hated being in the dark and she felt more than just confused. What bothered her more than anything was the look Malfoy gave her. He appeared more of an idiot than ever.

"Hermione are...are you alright?"

"Stop calling me Hermione! You have no right to call me by my first name you arrogant prick!" Draco took a step back looking absolutely mortified.

"Hermione I–"

"Did I not just tell you stop calling me that?! What is wrong with you and where am I?" she asked in a harsh tone, stomping her foot like a five year old child. Draco stiffened, hoping, praying to Merlin, all of this craziness turned out as some cruel joke.

"I guess, love, you bumped your head harder than I thought. Let's just head back to bed. It's still early and we can rest for another hour or so." He spoke calmly, but it only enraged Hermione further.

Preparing to yell at him again, shouting obscenities that would have horrified her mother, she sucked in a deep breath only cut short as the large oak door opened. Hermione nearly fell over as she looked at a little girl race into the room with red cheeks and a mess of brown curls. Her pale skin reflected the light and her eyes were shimmery ice blue, like Malfoy's.

"Daddy you're not allowed in here. That is cheating!" spat the little girl, racing over to Draco, tugging on his left leg. He looked away from Hermione and down to the little girl before he picked her up, stroking her back in a fatherly manner Hermione never would have guessed Malfoy could possess.

"I think you better head out here. Your mother has gone crazy and I'm hoping it's temporary,"stated Draco, walking out with the small child, shutting the door behind him. Hermione had never felt more confused, and more alone, in her entire life. Has the world gone crazy? What is going on?

Hermione was not one to simply wait around for something to happen, forever true to her Gryffindor mold, forcing her to race out after Draco. The short girl slammed the door shut behind her and thankfully so seeing as she fell backwards instantly. The sight before her was positively baffling.

Never in all of her life had she seen something so beautiful, so magnificent as the sight before her. The previously occupied bedroom did not compare to the rest of the house, precisely what Hermione stared at. A long balcony lined the upper floor, wrapping around the rest of the top floor, numerous doors lining along the walls. A grand staircase descended to the lower level, encompassed by a deliciously beautiful, gold floor. Spotlessly clean, the house glowed with an ambiance of pure splendor. All the while, a mixture of flowers and the sweet scent of honey crept throughout the manor.

"Wh-where...am I?"

"Mummy!" bellowed a squeaky voice from behind her. Whipping around she came face to face with a small boy, dirty-blond hair falling down in thick strands. The child could not have been more than three, clinging to a toy Griffin. Hermione's eyes practically burst from her head as she stared at the tyke, feeling an odd rush of familiarity in his face. He looked so much like her.

"Um...hi?" Hermione's voice sounded so weak, foreign, unable to grasp a firm handle on the situation. A wide smile spread across the young boy's face, clearly unaware anything was amiss. Running briskly, touching the metal railings as he cantered by, he threw himself at Hermione. Caught off guard, she prepared to step back only he grasped his small arms around her right leg, wanting her to pick him up.

"Uh..."

"Mum?" he asked, looking up into her wide eyes.

Clearing her throat, she bent down on her knees, meeting the child at eye level. For a moment, he guilelessly stared. Finally, he grabbed her warm, flushed cheeks, seizing her attention.

"Brekbest?" asked the boy, lisping on the 's'.

"Breakfast?" she repeated, wanting clarification. The little boy nodded and began tugging on her, pulling her toward the staircase. After sighing and looking back at the closed door, she accepted his hand in order to follow him.

"Daddy!" bellowed the child, still yanking on Hermione's arm.

Entering a lavish kitchen, Hermione spotted Draco and the girl he called Roxy chatting over a stove, Roxy sitting on the counter next to her father. Draco turned around when he saw her approach, an irresolute smile playing at his lips.

"'Mione? Are you feeling any better?" he asked tentatively.

Feeling her voice fail, she nodded mutely. Draco gave her a hesitant, unsure stare before he turned around, facing the bowls in front of him again.

"Daddy, when are we gonna see Uncle Blaise and Aunty Ginny again?" asked Roxy, licking her lips in anticipation for her upcoming breakfast.

"Your mum and I will take you over there later today. In fact, I think we'll bring you there after breakfast. I have a feeling your mum needs to rest a little more today."

Hermione's legs were starting to feel wobbly and her head began to spin. The boy had long since let go of her hand yet she pined for his grasp again, something to let her know she was not dreaming. She had to be dreaming. All of this seemed false, seemed wrong...

"Hermione? Hermione?!"

After that, things happened very fast...

0000000

Draco paced the waiting room, irritation and fear jostling his mind. His irritation had been the result of stubborn healers not giving him any information on his wife who fainted into an unconscious state over an hour before. Draco's fear went out toward Hermione. If she wasn't alright...Merlin help him. He would go crazy without her.

After nearly walking a mile on the carpet of St. Mungo's waiting room, Draco gave into the comfortable looking chair by the window, taking a seat. Exhaling a long, shuddering breath, he leaned back to wait some more.

None of this would have happened if he'd paid better attention. It was all his fault she had fallen...

"MUM!"

Exhaling a deep breath, Hermione asked, "What is it Roxanne?"

"Are you gonna tuck me in?!" she bellowed from the upstairs foyer, eagerly awaiting her nightly bedtime story.

Hermione felt Draco grumble into her stomach, his head resting against the thin material of her nightie. Rubbing her hands through his slick hair, she said, "I'll be up in a minute. I expect you to already be in your bed when I get there."

The teetering sound of little feet running around upstairs let her know her daughter understood perfectly well it was time for bed. Hermione may have been a loving mother, but with love came a stern authority. The woman meant business when it came to her children getting sleep.

"Ugh...don't go," he whined, clutching her hips and making her giggle. She ran a finger across his earlobe, instantly sending shivers down his body, knowing it always had a strong effect on him.

"The sooner I read her the story then the sooner we can go to bed," she reasoned sensibly. However, sensibility did not seem to be what Draco had in mind.

"Bed sounds nice," he growled, lifting up his lovely face to eye her seductively.

Sneering playfully, she quipped, "Is there ever a time when you're not thinking from inside your pants? Whenever something is brought up about bed then you automatically assume we're going to shag."

"I only assume this, my pretty lady," he whispered huskily, crawling up her body to straddle her waist; "for I know full well that I will get to shag you. I seem to remember a very willing witch writhing beneath me last night." His eyebrows lifted up in the most pompous of gestures.

Hermione, feeling the need to shoot him down, replied, "And I seem to remember a very somnolent wizard not performing the night before. I believe he was too exhausted to even look at me. He just passed out next to me like an overstuffed turkey."

Draco cursed under his breath making Hermione break out in laughter. Leaning down, pinning her beneath him, he said, "I bloody well chased two children across a park all day. I do not consider that as an inability to perform, but more along the line of a man needing some rest."

"Rest? Oh please, all I hear are excuses and excuses and mmmph—"

Draco cut her off, passionately pressing his lips against hers. Hermione responded all too well, wrapping her arms around his neck and her legs around his waist. His hands began to grip and touch her body, only to be cut off by the sound of a whining child upstairs.

"Ugh...the brat," he muttered, tearing his lips away from her with much protest.

Hermione sighed, rolling out from beneath him in order to venture upstairs. "I'll be back in no time."

"I'll certainly be waiting," he smirked, forcing a smile from her.

Hermione turned around to walk up the stairs, yawning as she reached the top. Her daughter was already situated in bed, just as Hermione expected her to be.

"So what am I reading tonight?" asked Hermione, taking her usual seat next to her daughter on the large bed. Roxanne leaned into her mother, snuggling closer to the woman.

"Alice and Wonderland!" she said excitedly.

Hermione laughed. "Alice and Wonderland? Darling I have read you this one over a thousand times."

"It's my favorite! Please mummy..." The young girl batted her eyes, looking more like her father than ever.

"Alright," said Hermione, opening the book without reason given she'd memorized the entire story by heart. "How does it start again?"

"Oh mum...Once upon a time," she said matter-of-factly, rolling her grey eyes.

Hermione smirked before saying, "Oh yes, silly me. Once upon a time, there was a young girl named Alice..."

Within ten minutes, her daughter fell asleep against her. Hermione kissed her forehead before wiggling out of the bed as not to wake her. Shutting the door behind her, she moved down the hall to creak open another door to check on her son whose bed time was much earlier. Sleeping peaceful as always, she shut the door to return to her own room.

"What story was it this time?" asked Draco when she entered. He was already laying in their bed, shirt off and book in hand.

"The usual," she muttered as she prepared for bed. The nightly brushing of the teeth and hair, along with the face washing, passed by quickly enough, allowing her to get in the bed with her patient husband. Throwing the book on the night-stand, he lunged for her immediately. Draco pressed his lips against hers in a fiery heat, running his tongue along her lower lip. Hermione moaned into his mouth as she allowed him to touch her body, exploring every crevice he already memorized.

"You're so beautiful..." he whispered huskily, briefly leaving her lips to press butterfly kisses against her neck. Hermione loved his sweet pillow talk. She often wondered if he even knew what he said to her during the throes of passion for it seemed subconscious. No matter—she enjoyed it all the same.

Without realizing what was happening, Hermione and Draco both fell back. The angle they had been in hindered proper movement, forcing Hermione's head to slam against the bedrail—hard. Draco's eyes flew open on instinct, tearing his lips away to examine his wife.

"Oh Hermione...Damn it, I'm sorry. Are you alright?" he asked, fumbling in an attempt to sit her up.

"Hermione?" he asked urgently. Her eyes were fluttering in an odd way, positively alarming him.

"Ow..."

"I'm sorry, sweetheart," he muttered sheepishly. Sighing, he helped her situate herself in the bed, soft pillows pressed against her injury.

Draco spooned his wife, feeling like a complete ass. It was an accident, obviously, but he still felt bad for causing her such pain. They had been rough before—hell, she liked it better rough—but this was ridiculous.

"I'm sorry, love," he murmured in her hair.

Draco could have sworn he heard her utter, "What a nightmare..." before falling over the brink into a peaceful sleep state.

"Mr. Malfoy?"

"Yes?" he responded, shooting up to meet the young, female healer, standing in a white hospital gown, her blonde hair pulled tightly back.

"Mrs. Malfoy is awake though...well, out of sorts," she muttered uneasily.

"What do you mean 'out of sorts'?" he asked, feeling his palms sweating.

Sighing, she replied, "Mr. Malfoy...we don't...she doesn't know who she is."

Draco's heart plummeted to the pit of his belly while the air was sucked from his chest. Gulping thickly, he whispered, "She doesn't remember me? Anything?"

"When she hit her head, we think it caused a few things to jumble. Now, since it was not something of magical means performed against her, we think it's temporary. She could very well return back to who she is by tomorrow."

"But...wait...she did remember me. She knows who I am, but—"

"As someone who went to school with you Draco," muttered Hannah Abbott, staring down at her shuffling feet, "I don't think this is the girl you married. The Hermione she is now...she somehow reverted to her sixteen year old self."

Draco knew then that all of this had to be a nightmare. Right?

Right?

"So she hates me."

It was not a question.

A/N: Yet another story from me. I'm going to be alternating between this one and 'Evil's Mistress' so for my faithful readers of that story - fear not! I've not given up on it in any way. I just need some variety, you know? The idea of this story came with a mixture of things so I hope you guys like it. I know it's another PostHogwarts fic, but I'm hoping you all will be taken with it.

READ AND REVIEW!! If you can read it, then you can review it.

A Dream Worth Keeping is the work of fanfiction. The characters belong to J.K. Rowling, but the featured story is mine.