The Girl Who Lived

Sneak (1)

(A/N: Elena's dress for the chapter- I really like it but picture whatever you like!)

Play the song when you see + for a better experience!
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May 14th, 1996.
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He had dreamt of her once again. Not a nightmare where she was sobbing, bleeding and broken- no.

A dream. Filled with storms, fire, flowers, life and her laugh. A beautiful dream where the complexity of infinity was possible.

He had been dreaming about her a lot lately and when he would wake up, he would try to sleep in again- just to hear her laugh and call him a bastard.

He had dreamt of her once again.

How many nights had he dreamed of her in a row now?

Four. Four fucking nights.

But he didn't mind- not at all. Whatever moment he could see her face, he was content with that time.

It was why he got up a little earlier than normal to wait for her outside of Gryffindor Tower.

It was why he walked her to class and carried her books, went to the library just to sit with her- it was all for those moments when he could see her.

Draco groaned, rolling over as sunlight poured through the curtains. The blanket covered his head until he was submerged in darkness again.

He needed to imprint the image of Elena in his mind- a little thing to remind him of something he hated so much that it defined him.

"For fuck's sake," Draco muttered, opening his eyes and tossing the blanket aside.

Dragging himself towards the bathroom, he mumbled about how stupid both he and Elena were.

The bathroom door shut behind him silently and he washed his face. The cold water woke him up completely.

Why had he been dreaming of her so often? It makes him angry to see her damned face in the middle of his dreams.

Why her?

Draco gripped the sink tightly, looking up at himself in the mirror. His reflection was lighter than it used to be.

His eyes seemed brighter, everything seemed to be brighter these days. In color, almost. No more black, white or grey.

It was bright and colorful and beautiful- like her.

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Elena had been dreaming about him lately. Daydreaming, regular dreaming, all of it.

No nightmares where he died or where she couldn't sacrifice herself to save him.

Only beautiful dreams where his laughters rang out through the air and his hand was in hers.

Dreams that left her breathless and with a pounding heart.

Everything was for him in those dreams, that different reality where she escaped her problems and couldn't be hurt. Where they couldn't be hurt.

Although it wasn't possible, she wanted to stay there. Not for her sake but for his.

She didn't want him hurt or bruised, she wanted him happy and laughing in that deep tone of his.

She wanted storms and life and beauty, all void of pain and death.

As she stood underneath the shower, she knew it was impossible.