Cicatrices- Marks That Remain

Auror Dawlish

A/N: Happy Sunday, folks!!! A few important announcements

Last week's chapter, today's chapter, and the next 3 chapters' events all occur over the course of the same day. I thought that would be important to mention. It is a PACKED day, and it might be a packed week for our characters, as well, just so you are all aware. Again, must stress that you are aware of the tags I added last week. I should have added them earlier, but it's gotten worse and more obvious in the story than I thought it might. Remain aware.

I think it is safe to assume we are officially entering the rising action. It's a slow rising action, but it's a rising action nonetheless.

Anywho, Please, let me know what y'all think. And, as always...

Enjoy!

Draco and Astoria were strolling along Daigon in the late evening. The streets were sparsely populated, and for that they were glad. It meant they could relax and truly focus on each other's company. After a delightful meal at a newly opened French restaurant, their stomachs were pleasantly stuffed and their hearts were warm with joy. The fresh breeze tousled Draco's hair as they walked, but he couldn't seem to care, relishing in Astoria's presence soaking up the peace of the evening.

They spoke of everything and nothing at all, simply happy to be near each other. Time seemed to slow down as they walked. Draco looked to Astoria, taking in her features; her soft, brown hair and green eyes, a round face, and her beautiful lips.

A flash of white light and a shutter sounded. The two looked towards the other side of the street to catch a glimpse of a reporter running down a corner..

"I hope they got a good shot," Astoria said with a chuckle. Draco couldn't help but smile at that.

"You're okay with them snooping like that?"

"It's not like they'll hurt us by writing about us walking down a street. We're better than the rubbish The Prophet publishes, anyway." Draco stopped their walking, then. Astoria said something, but Draco didn't hear her, as the beauty of her face pulled him in, making the rest of the world fuzzy. He leaned in, hand cupping her cheek. Then, in an instant her face was different. It was more bronze and less fair, more... structured. Draco was still leaning closer, though. As their lips connected, he tilted to move Harry's glasses out of the way. A hand landed on his shoulder-

"Draco, I need you to get up."

Draco blinked, mind hazy. Then, all at once, a million dots were connected in his head. His heart lept to his throat, pounding wildly.

In my room. Someone is in my room, someone. I'm dead. I'm dying. I'm dead.

I thought the door was locked.

"-did you hear? I need to go-"

Draco couldn't breathe, though, let alone listen. His mind kept racing ahead of him, making him unable to process the scene in front of him.

"-Auror Dawlish-"

He began to scramble out of the sheets, trembling violently. He shook his head, trying desperately to gain his bearings. It was too dark for him to see through his haze.

"Draco? Hey, it's just me. Bollocks, I didn't mean to startle you so much."

Two hands grabbed at his shoulders.

"Breathe for me. Breathe. Everything is alright... it was just a dream."

Dream?

He dreamt of Harry... or Astoria. He dreamt...