Chapter 11
I awoke gasping.
My bedroom ceiling came into focus, dark and unfamiliar, and the air was thick with the kind of silence that only Malfoy Manor could provide.
I was drenched in sweat, my breathing shallow, and the memory of the fire lingered behind my eyelids.
A nightmare.
I clenched my fists against the silk sheets and forced myself to breathe slowly. It had seemed too real, too vivid—not just a dream, but a warning.
I ran a shaky hand through my curls, exhaustion pressing down on me like a physical force.
It had been a week since our Eidolons disappeared.
It has been a week since the voice spoke to us.
And now I was dreaming about something worse.
I needed to find answers.
I walked to the library with dark circles under my eyes and a headache pressing against my skull. The lanterns flickered in the dim light, casting elongated shadows on the towering bookshelves.
Draco was already present.
He looked terrible.
His usual pristine appearance was missing—his hair was disheveled, platinum strands fell into his face, and his posture was tighter than it had previously been. His skin was paler than usual, and his eyes were ringed with fatigue.
For a brief moment, I felt a twinge of concern.
Almost.
But then he looked up at me, his eyes scanning my face—
“Bloody hell, Granger,” he muttered, his brows furrowing in disbelief and disgust. “You look worse than usual.”
And with that, the moment had passed.
I rolled my eyes and dropped my books onto the table with more force than necessary. “Excellent observation, Malfoy. Really. “Your deduction abilities are incredible.”
His smirk was only half-hearted. Just saying. It appears that the library has finally swallowed you whole and spat you out.
I ignored him and rubbed my temples.
“Nightmares,” I mumbled.
Draco remained still.
His expression did not change immediately, but something in his body language did—his posture, the way he tensed slightly, as if he knew what I was going to say.
“Bad ones,” I added. “I had another one last night.”
His fingers tapped against the wooden table, slowly and methodically. “What kind of nightmares?”
I paused. “They seem… too real. It’s not just fragmented dreams; I feel like I’m in another place entirely.”
His silver eyes locked on mine. “Describe it.”
I exhaled. “The ruins.” The creature’s eyes were burning. The fire and the voice—” I swallowed. “It stated that I had to choose. That I had to become what I dread the most.”
Draco’s entire expression changed.
His fingers curled tightly around the table’s edge, and his knuckles turned white. He didn’t blink or breathe.
I suddenly knew.
I narrowed my eyes. “You’ve seen it too.”
He didn’t respond.
I stepped closer, my exhaustion forgotten, and the realization hit me like a tidal wave. “You’ve been having the same dream.”
Nonetheless, he said nothing.
I slammed my hands onto the table. “Draco.”
He exhaled sharply and tipped his head back slightly. Then, finally, his eyes returned to mine.
“Yeah,” he admitted, his voice low. “I have.”
The air between us shifted—heavy and charged.
After a week of exhaustion, unanswered questions, and inability to summon our Eidolons, we now face this.
I sat in the chair across from him, running both hands through my hair. “That’s not possible.”
“It shouldn’t be,” he grumbled. “And yet, here we are.”
I looked at him, searching for any signs of deception or exaggeration—but this was real.
Draco Malfoy was not lying.
We were sharing dreams.
My stomach turned. “Did you see the ruins?” “The fire?”
He nodded. “Every night.”
“And the voice?”
A flicker of something cold and wary passed across his features. “You’re telling us to make a choice? Telling us we’re not ready?” His jaw clenched. “Yeah.”
A hush fell over us.
Not an awkward or uncertain realization, but one that sank into the space between us like an unavoidable reality.
I reached for my notebook and turned to a blank page, quill poised in hand. “We need to document everything.”
Draco gave a dry laugh. “Of course we do.”
I ignored his sarcasm. “If we’re sharing dreams, it means—”
“That this bond is worse than we thought?” He offered, raising a brow.
I gave him a glare. “That we might be able to control it.”
He did not seem convinced.
But he did not argue either.
For the first time since this nightmare began, I sensed something different. Not relieved. Not hope.
But I understand.
This was something neither of us understood. Something the magic community did not understand. It was a mystery to solve, and Draco and I needed to make the right decisions or the consequences would be disastrous.
I was already reaching for books before Draco could finish his long-suffering sigh.
“Of course you want to look into this,” he muttered, rubbing his hand down his face. “Merlin forbid we just accept something for what it is.”
I gave him a glare. “You mean, accept the fact that we’re sharing dreams without questioning why?” I dropped another book onto the growing stack on the table, sending dust into the air. “Yes, Draco, that sounds perfectly reasonable.”
He did not argue.
That meant he knew I was correct.
Instead, he slumped in the chair across from me, scowling at the books as if they had personally offended him. “This is ridiculous,” he mumbled. “Why is it always books with you?”
I rolled my eyes. “Because books contain answers—something you wouldn’t know much about since you spent most of Hogwarts not reading them.”
Draco scoffed. “I read a lot, Granger. “Just not about this nonsense.” He waved a vague hand at the pile of books, but despite his snide remarks, I noticed he did not leave.
Progress.
I ignored him and opened the first book, which discussed magical bonds. The text was old and written in a language I couldn’t understand, but I was determined to find something—anything—that would explain why Draco and I were suddenly having the same nightmares.
I scribbled notes, my mind racing faster than my quill, while Draco sat there, probably in an attempt to demonstrate his disinterest.
After a few moments of silence, he sighed and leaned forward to scan the open book in front of me.
“If you’re going to make me suffer through this,” he grumbled, “at least tell me what I’m looking for.”
I looked up at him. “You’re helping?”
He grimaced. “More like I’d rather get this over with than sit here watching you scribble yourself into oblivion.”
That was as close to willing cooperation as I would get.
I slid another book toward him. “Look for anything on soul entanglement, magical synchronization, or shared consciousness.”
Draco blinked. “That sounds horrifying.”
“Well, you were the one who insisted we figure this out,” I remarked sweetly.
He scowled and flipped open the book without saying anything.
So we conducted research.
For hours, the library was silent except for the occasional rustling of pages and Draco muttering complaints under his breath. I took meticulous notes, cross-referencing historical accounts of bonded magic, but nothing specifically mentioned shared dreams.
It wasn’t until I was elbow-deep in an old textbook on Eidolon Resonance that I discovered something useful.
I straightened. “Draco.”
He did not look up. “What now?”
I shoved the book at him, pointing to a section written in ancient script. “Look at this passage.”
He sighed heavily, but agreed, his silver eyes scanning the text. His brow furrowed slightly as he read, his expression changing from bored to sharper.
“This—” he exhaled, rubbing his hand across his mouth. “This is saying that Eidolons, when tethered by opposing forces, can begin to merge consciousness with their wielders?”
I nodded, my heart racing.
“It states that when an Eidolon bond is deeply aligned, the wielders may begin to have shared visions as their magic synchronizes. It’s extremely rare. I flipped the page, my eyes scanning quickly. “It also says that as the bond strengthens, the wielders’ emotions directly influence the magic itself—”
Draco groaned. “There it is.”
I frowned. “What?”
He gestured vaguely at the page. “It always comes back to feelings with magic, doesn’t it?”
I ignored him. “If this text is correct, our dreams are not completely random. They’re the result of our Eidolons’ attempts to reconnect.”
Draco remained still. “You think they’re trying to find their way back?”
I swallowed. “I think they might be trapped.”
The words hung between us, weighty and authentic.
We had spent the previous week assuming we were the victims. The Eidolons had simply disappeared.
What if they hadn’t?
What if something had taken them?
Draco exhaled as he ran his hand through his already messy hair. “Bloody hell, Granger.”
I flipped to the next page, my fingers trembling slightly. “If they’re trapped somewhere, then our dreams might be the only way they can communicate with us.”
Draco drew his hand down his face, his expression becoming grim. “So, what do we do?”
I bit my lip. “We need to figure out how to interact with the dreams directly. If our bond is the cause, perhaps we can use it to intentionally enter the dreams rather than waiting for them to happen to us.
Draco looked at me as if I had just suggested we enter a dragon’s mouth.
“You want us to what?”
I met his gaze steadily. “We must enter the dreamscape consciously. “We need to find them.”
Draco let out the longest groan. “Of course we do.”
I crossed my arms. “You’re the one who wanted to help, remember?”
He muttered something under his breath, then stood up and stretched. “Fine. But if we end up in some terrifying hellscape and something tries to kill us, I reserve the right to say, “I told you so.”
I rolled my eyes. “Duly noted.”
We had a plan.
It was reckless. It was probably dangerous.