Hogwarts lay peacefully under the morning sun, as she always had, for many centuries. The war was over, Voldemort was dead, and the Death Eaters that had escaped had made no move for a few months, preferring to lay low for awhile. Still, the sorrowful fingers of pain and loss still grasped a few.

Draco's chin was propped in his hand, as he fought drowsiness. He was a Seventh year, and still had to go to the History of Magic class with Binns. Honestly, Seventh years should have been exempted by now. Suddenly, he came awake, as the class ended. Ignoring Binns' assignment for homework, knowing he could get it from Hermione later, he left class quickly.

Gone was the smug, tall swagger of the Slytherin prince. He now walked quickly, his face expressionless, his eyes eerily uncaring, as he brushed past younger students.

Taking advantage of the free hour he had now, Draco escaped the confining corridors, and made his way down to the Black lake. To the tree. Their tree.

Harry.

With a sigh, he settled down into the grass, looking out over the dark waters of the lake. A gentle breeze stirred his blonde hair.

What was the point? Upon people's insistence, he had returned to Hogwarts for his final year. But there was no point in it. He didn't want to do anything after graduation. Without Harry at his side, he didn't even want to live. Absentmindedly, he twisted the ring on his finger.

He had tried removing it, to join Harry in death, but for some odd reason, he had lived. Research had proven that Inima indeed would die, if their Inima died and they removed their ring. So why hadn't he?

It was all too strange. Still, Draco hadn't resorted to other measures, because Hermione and Pansy had managed to convince him that Harry wouldn't have wanted him to kill himself. Not if there was a chance of Draco living a normal life.

Only problem was, he didn't want a normal life. He wanted Harry.

Footsteps cause him to look over, and he wasn't surprised to see Hermione appear around the tree. She sat quietly, and for a moment, neither spoke.

"Thinking about him?" she asked after a pause. Draco drew in a deep breath.

"I always do," he replied softly.

"I miss him too," Hermione agreed. Out of all his friends, she was the one who understood him best now. She had lost so much, as had Draco. He had never thought he'd find such a good, understanding friend in a Muggleborn, but Hermione was as good as they came.

"Do you still have those dreams?" she asked, looking over at him. Draco shrugged.

"Yeah."

Since Harry's death, Draco had had nightmares, where he watched Harry die in numerous ways, each time powerless to stop the death. Slowly, however, the dreams had changed, and Draco was sure Harry was alive, and talking with him. But he would wake up, only to find that his Inima was indeed dead, and buried in the new Weasley cemetery, near the Burrow in a small, secluded wood.

"What was the last one about?"

Draco sighed. "I don't really remember it," he admitted. "I was sure Harry was telling me something…something important. But I don't remember what he told me. I know it was something I needed to do, or know…" He curled his hands into fists, frustrated. "Why do I keep having these dreams? It's like they're taunting me with what I know I've lost forever…and yet, it's like there's a purpose behind them."

Hermione was thoughtful for a few minutes. "I've been doing research," she said slowly. A small smirk appeared on Draco's face.

"Not surprised," he chuckled.

Hermione swatted his arm lightly. "Supposedly, the type of dreams you've been having really do mean something…some sort of foreshadowing, or prophecy…you don't have any Seers in your family, do you?" Draco shook his head. "It could always have to do with the fact that you were mated to a Viatacatre…I don't really understand what I was reading. It's all too complex, without a final piece of the puzzle."

Draco closed his eyes, leaning his head back against the tree. Both of them fell silent for a long time.

Harry, what are you trying to tell me? he wondered.

His ring burned suddenly, and Draco bolted upright, scrabbling at the ring. It grew to a burning sensation, as Hermione asked, "What is it?"

"Get it off," Draco hissed. The ring wouldn't budge, and he was burning his fingers in the process.

Hermione was leaning over to help, when a thin white strand of smoke coiled from the heart of the ring. "My finger is...burning?" Draco muttered quizzically. More and more smoke issued forth, and Hermione nudged Draco. "What?"

"Look." Draco's eyes widened, and he was certain Hermione's mirrored his, as the smoke began to form a shape in front of them.

The smoke solidified, revealing a beautiful young woman who stepped forward towards them. The outline of her form wavered, giving Draco the impression that he was looking through water at her.

"Draco Malfoy…"

Her voice was sweet and musical, but at the same time sounded like many voices in one. Her voice held power, and Draco felt a thrill run through him, as if he could run for days and not tire, or stay awake and fast, taking neither food or drink or sleep, for years.

"How do you know my name?" he croaked, his throat suddenly dry.

"I have come for you…"

"Why me?"

"I have a message for you." This was odd. "I have traveled long and far, at the request of one who loves you…and who would do anything to be at your side once more."

Draco's heart began to pound. There was only one person she could be speaking of… "He's dead," he whispered.

"Death is only a different path from the living…"

Hermione's hand found his, and he gripped hers, tightly. He tried to speak, but no words would come forth, as the woman's next words caused him to feel faint and numb.

"I bring a message from your Inima."

THE END...for now.

Chapter End Notes: Yes, there is a sequel. :) It will be posted in January. Have a happy holidays!