In My Dreams [Draco Malfoy]

prologue

INDIGO

The Black Lake was incredibly peaceful looking.

White and pale pink blossoms had sprouted on all the surrounding trees and a light snow cascaded from the sky. It was almost as if I had found my way into a snowglobe, and the scenery filled me with a peace I had rarely ever experienced anywhere else.

My dream-self couldn't feel the cold but I could see my breath in the air. All the same, I must've been exceptionally chilly, for my dream-self brought my hands to my face and blew a hot breath into the palms of my mittens. I rubbed them together, trying to bring forth some more heat but, however hard my efforts were, they must have been obviously useless, for—before I could even remotely process what was happening—an arm wrapped around me and pulled me a few steps forward into a warm sturdy surface. I hadn't realized I had company until then but could one hundred percent confirm that I had been pulled into someone else's chest. Whom this person was remains unbeknownst to me, though I must've been familiar with them because I made no effort to get away.

I could hear my heartbeat in my ears, like something, or someone, was knocking on my brain. Did I... like this? The thought of being held by someone other than my mother, and genuinely liking it at that—wanting it even—only made my heart race even more. Meanwhile, the figure silently moved to grasp my fingers and hold it to their chest, now revealing that their skin was near translucent in comparison to my own tan complexion.

My eyes flicked up and, as tall as the figure was, my vision could only distinguish a pair of raindrop grey eyes staring back at me. The pounding grew louder, the eyes seeming to speak to me as if they could say something that simply did not require words. Even my dream-self must have been curious, for I didn't break away from the now lingering eye contact. I had no control over my body as my hand reached out and cupped the side of the figure's face, my thumb brushing over their smooth cheek. There was an image of my hands on their chest as it rose and fell like they had just released a sigh, then their eyes closed.

Next thing I knew, the snow was gone and I was back to reality.

It was late summer in England, and the mid-August sun was hammering down with such force that even leaving a book in your lap would result in tan lines. Looking out the passenger seat window of our Honda, I began to remember where I was. For a moment I was unsure of how to react, unaware as to whether I was still dreaming or not. Just to be sure, I stretched one hand over to the opposite arm and gave myself a good pinch.

Ouch. Definitely awake.

Before I could forget, I reached into the back seat and grabbed my dream journal, as well as a black pen that had been hooked to the front by the clip. It was a simple spiral notebook but if anything were to happen to it I would be devastated all the same. The sticky note on the front read Summer, 1994. It usually took me three months (the length of a typical season in England) to complete a journal, and contained every dream I had had as of recent. Because many of my dreams were quite dire, I felt the obligation to re-read them as much as possible in hopes of remembering later on and, possibly, even changing one. Despite only having such luck once out of all the years I'd been having these dreams...

I dated the next available line and began to recall every detail I could think of: grey eyes, light skin, snow, pink flowering trees, the Black Lake, Hogwarts, person hugs me...

That's all I could remember. Then again, that might've been all there was.

"What was it about?"

I jumped. Despite the fact that I knew all cars needed a driver, I had still managed to forget that I wasn't alone. There in the driver's seat, Mum sat with her eyes on the road and silky black hair pulled back into a ponytail. Even sleep-deprived, slightly aggravated from traffic and antsy from sitting for so long, she was very beautiful. Her dark skin practically glowed with health and her brown eyes were only a tad lighter than my own, still vibrant with youth and liveliness. She wore a plain pair of sweatpants, trainers and a t-shirt. I, however, was sticky and rank smelling in my own pajama pants but that was, more than likely, just anxious sweats from such a dream. I didn't like to admit it but I was a rather sweaty person by nature.