Darkness. It was all around him. Whatever direction he turned, all Draco could see was the deep unyielding blackness. The thought occurred to him that he had never seen true darkness until that moment. Draco could not even see his own hand flashing in front of his face though he knew it to be there since he could feel it moving and he could feel the slight breeze caused by the motion. For a moment, he was truly scared. Draco moved forwards and could hear the sound of his footsteps echoing around the walls. Once he had taken that first step he noticed a dim yellowy-white light appear up ahead. Unthinkingly Draco hurried towards it, picking up his pace with each movement forward. Yet, the light seemed to move with him and it was moving away. He panicked and ran full speed forwards, trying desperately to catch up with his salvation. The light all but disappeared before him when Draco called out in a desperate attempt. “No!” Draco screamed. As though the sound of his voice triggered something the light seemed to race towards him. Voices whispered to him from the light, getting louder as it came closer to him. Suddenly, Draco was utterly terrified. That yellowy-white night was no longer comforting but hostile and he knew that he should stay as far from it as possible. Draco turned on the spot and sprinted away in terror back into the darkness. Anything was better than what lay waiting for him beyond that light.

Before he had taken two steps the light had consumed him. Draco stood in the exact same place on the platform he had been standing that very morning except, this time, he stood completely alone. The strange thing was that the voices he heard before were still there and they were louder than ever. Just as Draco finished that thought, an angry mob of people appeared out of nowhere and surrounded him. This time he did not have Galen for comfort. It was the same angry woman who stepped forwards first again this time, except as she stepped forward she revealed a horrible sight that was concealed behind her. Bodies of those he cared for and loved were piled on the floor, blood oozing from their wounds, and they were clearly dead. Draco recognised his Auntie Bella, Crabbe, his father, and, most painfully, his mother. “NO!” Draco cried out, dropping down on his knees to the floor. The woman began to laugh, a horrid cackle that chilled him right to the bone. The rest of the crowd soon joined in and advanced upon him, punching and kicking every part of his body they could reach. ‘Help me…’ Draco thought distantly.

That was when Draco felt a warm hand wrap itself around his upper arm. This hand felt different from the others, kinder somehow. It yanked Draco abruptly out of the crowd and soon released him, only to grab hold of Draco’s now exposed hand. His saviour dragged him along the platform beside the gleaming scarlet steam engine that Draco had not noticed until that point. The yells and curses of the mob behind them could still be heard as they pursued the two retreating figures. It was then that Draco thought to look towards his saviour only to be met with a feeling of dread. “It’s you,” Draco yelled. Harry Potter merely glanced back at the boy he had just saved with a wicked gleam in his emerald green eyes. He gave Draco a small smile and continued to drag him down the platform. For a moment, Draco was reassured until the train next to them began moving. Without saying a word, Harry wrenched open the nearest train door to them and shoved Draco on board. The train was picking up speed now and the angry throng were gaining on Harry. Seizing his chance, Draco clung onto the edge of the door and held his hand out towards his saviour. “GRAB ON!” Draco shouted. For a moment, Harry tried to grab for Draco’s hand and managed to get a hold of it. Yet, unexplainably, with one last smirk, Harry let go of the hand Draco was holding and let himself be engulfed by the crowd behind them. “NOOOOOOOOO!”

Draco woke abruptly covered in his own sweat and breathing heavily. The morning sunlight shone dimly into the dormitory while the rest of the boys were pulling their clothes on. None of his dorm mates seemed to notice anything was wrong with him thankfully although Blaise did give Draco an odd look before heading down to the common room. Stripping off his pyjama top, Draco strolled over to the basin that was constantly filled with water and splashed his face with its cool substance. He let the droplets roll down his chest before picking up a towel and drying off. Draco pulled on his clothes without haste, reluctant to hurry towards the venomous whispers and stares that he knew would accompany breakfast. On top of that Draco wanted to dwell over his dream. It was beyond strange. Why on earth would Harry ‘the Chosen One’ Potter want to help him? More importantly, why would Draco desire his help so badly? He grabbed his school bag and headed down the stairs towards the common room where Blaise sat waiting for him.

“What took you do long?” asked Blaise, eyes narrowing. Draco merely shrugged at which Blaise rolled his eyes and the two boys walked in silence towards breakfast. As soon as they sat down Blaise’s attention was claimed immediately by some of their fellow seventh years as Draco brooded in silence. The dream troubled him greatly. He hadn’t had dreams like that since- No, Draco thought to himself, I won’t dwell on that. It was strange how vivid he had found the dream. Why him? Why did it have to be that saviour? Perhaps it’s because he saved you earlier that day, a small voice in his head whispered, I’m sure that must be it. Draco smiled to himself, slightly appeased. By the end of breakfast the dream was all but forgotten and as he walked to his first lesson of the day there was a slight weightlessness to his steps.


The first few weeks passed as a blur. Draco and many of the other students whose family members were on the wrong side still suffered from the whispers and staring, though many did not trouble to keep their voices down. A few altercations from those who had lost family members in the war against those who fought with Voldemort did occur more frequently in the first few weeks, including one first year boy whose uncle had been one of the Death Eaters. These soon died out though the glares and whispers did not. Draco himself barely noticed any of the other students other than his new intimate group of Slytherin friends. Most of the Slytherins kept to themselves, though some of the younger students had integrated friendships between the other houses. He attended his classes, did his homework, and played Quidditch – falling back into the familiar routine far better than he had expected. For the first time in months he was somewhat happy and Draco planned to hold on to that with everything he had.

Come November time Draco had settled completely back into his old life. He had not forgotten his mother and wrote her weekly letters, though Narcissa had yet to respond to a single one. Draco also wrote to his father but he could not bring himself to send those letters for reasons that he couldn’t explain. For the most part he merely distracted himself as much as he could through his lessons. It was easier not to think about much else when focusing on the exact correct way to extract the venom from a Doxy. Though the whispers and stares did not stop they had died down almost to non-existence which pleased him greatly. Draco was halfway towards his Defence Against the Dark Arts lesson when he remembered that he had left his textbook back in his dormitory and turned back to retrieve it. As he entered the classroom, a full 5 minutes late, Draco saw a scene that confused him greatly.

At the front of the classroom stood Professor Delguine, holding her things as though she were about to leave. That was not the strange part. The strange part was that a little way behind her stood a person he had never thought to see in that castle again. Harry Potter. 

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