The boy stood in an endless void of white.
He faced a figure with no features, a white silhouette of himself.
It grinned.
The boy stood, rigid as they stood face to face, the boy clutching his fists tightly.
The silhouette spoke, but no words could be heard.
He knew the silhouette was speaking- but he could not hear what it spoke, what it had said before it raised its arm, pointing its thumb to the stone gate behind him as it opened...
Draco snapped his eyes open.
He was sweating all over, as if he had just run a marathon. He was clenching the blankets tightly as he lay on his side.
All he could hear was the sound of his breathing and the badum-badum of his heartbeat as he lied there, calming himself down before he sat up.
The platinum-blonde ruffled through his messy bangs, sorting his thoughts through.
It was that dream again...
It wasn't the first time Draco has had such a dream.
He's had several.
Standing across the same silhouette, in the same white, empty void, ending at the very moment the majestic stone gate opened its doors...
... Seriously, what is that thing...
The boy sighed, looking up to see the night sky through the window.
... The moon is still up, huh...
He sighed again, letting his arm fall to his side as he fell back onto his pillow.
Draco stared up at the ceiling.
That wasn't the only type of dream he's had, though.
Sometimes, he'd dream of a world, where magic didn't exist at all and a dead art- Alchemy- stood in its stead. Where instead of wands and broomsticks, complex circles and science- Muggle science- reigned supreme.
Sometimes, he'd dream of a peaceful village in the countryside, of a kind woman with the brightest smile in the world, of metal prosthetics and a grandmother and her strong, but naive granddaughter.
He'd dream of a butcher's shop, owned by an intimidating-looking, but compassionate man and his wife, who was a downright demon.
He'd dream of foreigners, of a carefree teen with a grin, accompanied by a stern, old man with surprising grace and a pretty, loyal girl that was his granddaughter, of a girl with an overreactive imagination and a panda that looked like a cat that was her companion.
He'd dream of people in blue, official-looking uniforms, of an insightful man with a cheerful grin, of a rather muscular blonde with pink sparkles that follow him everywhere, and of a pair of friends with eavesdropping tendencies. He dreamt of a rather handsome (-annoying, egotistical-) man with an irritating smirk, a woman with excellent aim, of a team of four that lay their loyalty to their leader.
But most of all, he'd dream of a suit of armor, a boy trapped in a metal shell, that constantly accompanied him everywhere and, even during his waking hours, seemed like the most improtant thing in the world that he could never bear to let go.
Draco dreamed of them constantly, and no matter what, he could never deny this strange sense of longing that wells within him every time.
... Where are all these dreams coming from, anyway?
He checked the clock on his wall.
2. 30.
"Damn it..." he grumbled, pulling the covers over him.
He knew he should probably be more cheerful- tomorrow was 30th July, his birthday and the day he'd get his Hogwarts letter- but he couldn't bring himself to think of such optimistic thoughts.
It was gonna be another sleepless night.
Prologue
The White Silhouette
I should be working on To Save The Sky.
I realize that.
But I just can't help it! This idea was stuck in my head!
Not sure if I'll be continuing this, but I might. Anyway, I can't think of a good title right now! Might make one on the spot soon, but if I end up making a temporary one, please use your imagination to think one up!
How did I do?
Hope you enjoyed it!