It was raining outside, you could tell by the moisture seeping in from the stone wall, making the cramped room that much colder. You let the woolen blanket spread over your body, the itchiness nearly drove you mad, but it was your only source of warmth. You laid against the corner of the wall, bits of the moisture seeping into your shirt. It was the only thing you could do from sleeping on the freezing concrete floor.
Your nose was running, and you had to pull your frizzy black mane back from getting it gooed with it. You had to wipe your nose on the edge of the woolen blanket. The exhaustion was wearing down on you, and you weren't really sure why. All you had to do was pace back and fourth in the tiny confined space. You slumped against the wall, finally going into unconsciousness.
Usually in your dreams you'd be in sunny meadow being able to run in the tall reeds. Or sometimes you'd be in the woods, sitting next to a babbling brook. But tonight, oddly, you were wandering down some street. A slight slush making you shiver. You saw a sort of playground, and tried to warm yourself on one of the many benches.
You heard a slight thumping coming up the sidewalk, and your heart began to race. "Hello?" You wanted to smack yourself, why was that the first response to everything, though it could be life threatening? You stood up, and squinted in the misty darkness. "Who's there?" Holy Mary and Joseph, someone was there! "Um, someone who's about to freak out." "I guess that makes two of us." You could tell it was a guy, and by the looks of it he was getting closer. "What are you doing out here?"
You stared blankly through the fog waiting for the young man to emerge. "Besides the fact that I could be asking you the same question, I guess, I don't know I usually dream up sunnier places than this." "Dream?" "Yeah, I know I can't be awake." "This can't be a dream…I don't think." You turned to see that the young man had emerged from the dreary fog, and noticed he had a bunch of messy ebony hair as well, but his eyes were filled with emerald flames. Burning with more than you could imagine. Hope, comfort, compassion, bravery, but what stood out the most for the moment was his confusion.
"I'm afraid it is," you say in a dismissive way. The young man looked at you intently. "How do you know for sure?" You sighed, "Because I'm locked up." "In prison?" "In a manner of speaking I guess. I'm not in Azkaban if that's what you're thinking." "How long have you been--?" "Imprisoned?" He nodded.
"Since I was about nine, the Death Eaters killed my family, and took me away. They locked me up in the tiny attic without a word. I'm not sure why, but from what I heard the guards discussing, Voldemort's waiting for me." Tears burned the back of your eyelids. The unknown always had a way to turn anyone to tears. The boy actually reached out, and stroked your arm. You forced a smile on you face. "So I think the question is, how did you get here in my dreams?"