Selcouth [G.W]

chapter 1

Date unknown.

Dreamscape. 

The ability to leave the real world and make your own. Only assessable by sleep or being unconscious.

 I read a book once on dreams. The word can mean different things but it all comes down to the conclusion of fantasy and hope that will inevitably hurt or kill you in the end.

When I was younger that's what I believed. It helped that had no dreams, both definitions of one. My mind only concocted nightmares or memories I wished would stay away and I had no dreams of what I could be in life or what life could be. 

I only knew what my mother wanted me to be. What the world already believed for me to be.  

George showed me that dreams aren't just some make-believe fantasy that only comes in dreamscape. He showed me dreams can be your reality, only if you truly want them to be. 

He made my childish, locked in a box deep inside my brain, dream a reality without me truly knowing until it was too late.

He showed me my life was my own. He made my dull fading existence bright with colors and when I saw him, all I saw was yellow.

Selcouth- Strange. Yet marvoulus.

~***~

Tuesday. September. 1. 1995

Milidecent P.O.V

"Mill's, get up! It's time to get ready," Draco belches banging on my bedroom door.

 Merlin's beard! 

Why does he feel it so necessary to be so loud this early in the morning? Every bloody day he wakes me up obnoxiously loud. He'd Avada Kedavra me so fast if I were to return the courtesy. Quickly rolling out of bed to start my walk to the shower, I groan.

Rubbing the sleep and tiredness out of my eyes, I try to gather energy for the day. As I quickly glance at myself in the bathroom mirror, I notice my dark, unruly coils looked especially slept in this morning, and the baggage my eyes were carrying on my warm, brown skin was exceptionally prominent. 

After a quick shower, I find Draco on my bed intruding on my space, per usual. On my bed, in his normal comfortable position, as if he sat then and laid back. Today, he is reading a book that I know he got from my small bookshelves that lays in the room. 

I notice he is already dressed, wearing a black long sleeve turtle neck. The gold watch I got him last year for the holidays hanging on his wrist accenting his dark shirt. His long legs covered with grey trousers with a black belt on his waist. His blond almost white hair pushed back in a messly but coordinated way.  

He looks hot.

In only my towel, I roll my eyes and start the walk to my wardrobe to pick today's ensemble. Completely ignoring his presence.

"One with proper manners would wait at a door until called upon." I shoot at him.

He pulls his eyes away from my book, finally looking at me, albeit disinterested.

" I'll keep that in mind next time, I am looking for lessons in proper manners," he rebuttals putting the book down. I turn to look at him. We make eye contact, for a quick second, as he sits up and pulls a cigarette from his pocket. He casually lights it up, likely his second cigarette of the morning.