Well, I've fixed it...the spelling has been checked. I'm sorry for that. I know I have terrible spelling.

Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter

Little Fantisies

Hermione looked down at the blue milky liquid in her beaker, and then glanced around the classroom anxiously. It wasn't that she didn't trust her own potion making skills, she just wasn't certain she wanted to play guinea pig for this particular potion.

Professor Snape lounged behind his desk, his greasy hair falling into his eyes as he peered expectantly at his students. Her two best friends (Ronald Weasley and Harry Potter) sat in front of her at a separate desk. In front of them were other griffindors, and across from them were the Slytherins She glanced directly across from her and her eyes were caught by that of the most sought after, arrogant, cruel Slytherin of them all: Draco Malfoy. Silvery eyes stared into her, reading her every thought, a cocky smirk curved his lips.

Stupid Malfoy, she thought, turning back to her potion. She hated him with a passion, everyone knew that, and he returned those feelings. Slowly she lifted the glass container to her lips, watching from the corner of her eye as Malfoy did the same, and swallowed the liquid.

It was like liquid silver, smooth as silk as it slid across her tongue. It was cold, though none of the ingredients had been very cool. She wondered if anyone else felt this light, almost feathery feeling that she was experiencing.

Her eyes scanned over her peers, not really seeing them, to focus on two platinum orbs. She blinked, focusing on Malfoy's face, his eyes had a glazed look in them, so maybe the potion had the same affect it was having on her?

She blinked again, feeling herself drifting, swimming through a haze of unclear thoughts and dreams.

Hermione looked at herself in the mirror, her hand moving to smooth down her hair and pull at the hem of her white dress. She twisted, trying to see herself from all angles. Would he like it? Would he say anything? What about her hair? She knew it wouldn't stay neat for long, it never did. He was constantly telling her he didn't mind it gave her a certain appeal that other girls just didn't have. Yet she still couldn't relax.

It was late, and students weren't allowed to wander around at night, especially to meet someone of the opposite sex. If they were caught, not only would their classmates ridicule them both, but also the teachers would be disappointed in them both. Still she couldn't keep herself away. She missed him; she longed to be held in his arms.

Soon, she promised herself, soon he would be with her again.

The young witch slowly made her way to the door, careful not to wake her roommates. That would be disastrous, she was sure.

Hermione made it safely outside, only having to hide two times to avoid the detection of the staff. She quickly moved towards the lake, moonlight guiding her steps, love guiding her heart.

She stopped, looking around herself, but finding no sign of him. Would he come? Did he change his mind?

She told herself not to cry, that he would come. 'Just be patient.' She reminded herself, he did have a tendency to take his time, after all.

The shadows behind her shifted, and a shape detached itself from the trees. Her breath caught. He was here.


The young man waited with baited breath for his beautiful minx to appear. He'd been waiting for a good fifteen minutes in hopes that she too would come early. She hadn't. Per usual she had to be punctual; not that he minded, it was rather endearing. But oh the agony she put him through!

He lounged against one of the trees, watching the moon make it's slow progression through the thick molasses of the sky, it's luminous reflection peacefully floating on the surface of the lake.

Then she was there, standing at the edge of the lake, it's water lapping at her feet as if begging for her attention. 'Not tonight.' He thought possessively, 'She's mine tonight.'

Smoothly his form cut through the darkness until he too had the soft glow of moonlight on his skin. His obsession turned quickly towards him, her flowery white dress swirling around her. His breath caught. She was beautiful. An angel. And she was his.

He quickly stepped forward, crushing her slight frame in his arms. One of his hands was circling her waist the other tangling itself in her hair. "Oh, I missed you." He whispered huskily, his face buried in the soft strands of her hair.

He could almost feel Hermione's lips curl into a smile as she embraced him back, "I'm here now." She answered, snuggling into his warmth.

The young man groaned, lifting his face to look at her, "I wish we didn't have to meet like this, in secret."

His love's eyes saddened, "I know, but what else are we to do? Your family will never accept a mudblood like me...and my friends will resent me for choosing you."

Silver eyes hardened, "You are not a mudblood, Hermione." He said firmly.

The girl's smile warmed him, chasing back all the shadows that surrounded them and their relationship. "Someday...someday we'll be free." He said fervently, nuzzling her neck.

Hermione tilted her head to the side to give him better access, her eyes closing. Slowly his nuzzling turned to kisses that barely grazed her skin yet sent her heart to doing acrobatics. His lips slowly moved over her skin, up to lightly touch her mouth. He drew back slightly, and then kissed her again. Three more times he did that before she could not take it anymore and dug her hands into his thick blond strands, pulling his head down to hers.

He smiled against her mouth, pleased. His arm's pulled her closer to him, needing to feel her against him.

With another groan he pulled away, his passion filled eyes fixed on her porcelain face. "We have to go back." He said softly, so softly she almost didn't hear it.

"No." She moaned, clutching his shirt and snuggling against him.

His arms tightened around her momentarily, "Yes, Hermione, we can't stay here. We need to get some sleep."

"I won't be able to sleep, Draco." The girl told him sadly.

The young Malfoy smiled slightly, "Me neither." He admitted, gently guiding her towards the castle. Tomorrow night, he reminded himself. There was always tomorrow night.

Hermione slowly sat up; she had been resting with her head cradled in her arms. Slowly she came to herself again, and her eyes widened. She cast a disgusted look at the empty beaker still clutched in her hand.

Then Hermione looked over to Malfoy. Never before had she had such a bad dream. A nightmare. Stupid Dreaming Potion.

Her eyes widened again when she found the young god looking back at her; the same expression of shock and disgust on his face as she was sure was on hers.

Could he possibly. No, that was impossible.


Draco looked over at Hermione sitting opposite him. He could almost feel her in his arms, her lips burning into his. That had been the most vivid dream he had ever had. And he couldn't exactly say he didn't enjoy it.

He certainly couldn't stop thinking about how she looked bathed in moonlight; dressed in the most stunningly simple white dress he had ever seen. That was a vision that wasn't likely to leave him very soon.

Hermione caught him looking at her, with such a strange look in her eyes he couldn't help but smirk. Her eyes took on the look of a deer caught in headlights. Her cheeks turned a nice shade of rose and she quickly looked away.

Draco had the sneaking suspicion that little Miss Granger had had a dream rather close to his own.

Well, that was fun...so what do you think?

Please review...it makes me want to write what I love.