He was standing in a hall. It wasn't just any hall - it was a hall of the Grimmauld Place, near where the stairs lead to the kitchen. The hardwood floors were crumbling and broken and the paint and wallpaper on the walls was peeling and cracked. There were holes in the walls as well. There was rubble lying all around and the ceiling was falling to pieces, revealing the dark, rainy night sky. The rain was falling so heavily that it began dripping off of his hair.

There was a howl from behind him and he turned around quickly, whipping out his wand. He shouted 'Lumos' . The light from his wand flickered once and then died out. Fear gripped him in such a way that for a few moments that he felt the hairs on his arms and neck stand on end as a gust of cold wind howled in his ears. He wanted to be anywhere but in he hall. In the distance he could make out a pair of amber eyes.

Light caught snarling teeth. There was nothing to produce the light - no lamps from inside the hall, no stars, and no moon. It was as though the creature growling at him from the shadows was materializing bit by bit. Despite the somewhat familiar surroundings, he felt quite lost. As though he had landed in some sort of alternate universe.

But the crumbling manor around him and the snarling creature before him was not alternate nor entirely surreal. From out of the shadows stepped a very familiar beast. He had known what the creature was before he saw it. He didn't have to see it to know what caused such an intense fear, even if a part of him wasn't afraid, and knew that the creature wasn't a beast. But then there were two, and he knew them at once, even if the second had taken him longer to figure out.

Moony and Callo.

But something was certainly different. The setting and the two wolves alone weren't enough to cause the feelings he felt. They were simply there. He felt terribly alone and afraid, vulnerable and watched. Instinct told him to run, and he did just that. He turned and ran as fast as he could, though it hardly seemed as though he were moving at all. The wolves were howling at him, jeering at his attempt to run away. Callo was howling, he could tell because that wolf was younger, and Moony was now growling.

He glanced over his shoulder. It was pointless to run, but he had to. Moony had lunged into a run, with Callo quickly at his heels. He ran faster, and faster, but it all seemed pointless. The wolves were still howling, and Moony seemed determined to catch him.

Quite suddenly he was in the entrance hall of the old house, though the wolves were still behind him. He hit the door with such a force that it felt as though he'd been thrown into it. Pain and fear wracked his body and he turned around slowly. Both wolves were still there, still staring at him with their amber and green eyes, growling at him. Moony advanced forward before lunging at him. He drew his arm up to protect himself from the angry wolf's attack, and the wolf bit hard into it. It tore into him and he struggled to get the door behind him open.

Moony let him go, retreating back to the younger wolf. He gave a groan before sliding down to the ground at the foot of the door, not once taking his eyes off of the black wolf that now walked toward him. Callo nudged the side of his bleeding arm before licking his cheek. He regarded the wolf for a moment before reaching a hand out to touch it's muzzle. Callo caught his gaze for a moment before walking more into him, and then finally merging with him.

He was seeing through the eyes of the young wolf; he was the young wolf. He was Callo.

The lock clicked and the door creaked open. He whimpered, lowering himself to the ground, placing his head on his front paws. Glancing behind him once he saw a colorful trail of golden brown were Moony had been and lowered his head once more after noting that his own colorful trail had been sort of a green. He moved to lay on his side, tucking in his head and tail as Moony approached. The older wolf was up against the door, pushing it open. Now, he figured that he really didn't like that smell, and whimpered once more.

He rolled over and pushed himself to his feet clumsily. He was on his front step beside Moony and the door shut with a loud thud behind him. Lowering his own tail he gave a half whine and howl. To this Moony only growled before trotting down. He lowered his own head, wishing that he could black out the smell of death, wishing that he could go back inside, but Moony was calling to him. Moony was saying that he was in charge and that he had to listen to him or he would be in trouble. He slowly began to follow Moony.

Rotting flesh was rank in the air with the metallic smell of fresh blood. He whined looked around Moony was already a good several feet ahead of him, howling, calling him. White light was coming from somewhere far ahead of them both. What should have been a street was a field, it was the grounds of Hogwarts - littered with thousands, no, perhaps millions - of bodies. There wasn't a color but he saw the pool of blood that was forming, and flowing toward him. He yipped once and Moony howled, telling him he was in trouble.

Harry woke, gasping in a cold sweat. He was fairly certain that if he held his breath he could hear his heart pounding in his chest. He had his fists wrapped around the bed sheet. He didn't have the faintest idea what time it was, but he was very sure that he could still smell the stench of rotting flesh. He gave a groan before lying back against his pillow, pulling his blankets over his head, listing to his beating heart. Part of him was eager to leave the house, to do something, and part of him was to afraid to step a toe out of bed. Mostly he just wanted to sleep but found that a difficult task to accomplish after that dream.

No less than two minutes later he became aware that some one was moving about the small loft before rolling over and pushing himself up. Running two shaky hands through his hair Harry threw on a shirt before walking out of his room, already having on a pair of gray pajama bottoms. He winced against the light in the main room, and snorted softly, watching his roommate bustle around the place looking for something. Draco stopped once, looked at him, and scowled before continuing on. That was the morning greeting. Though Harry wasn't quite sure that it really was morning at the moment. Late after noon, maybe.

"Remind me again why I'm living with you, Potter," Draco drawled as he made his way back to the kitchen, only to dig through the cupboards there. "You are possibly the heaviest sleeper I have ever met. Not to mention you don't even seem very brave in bed."

Harry choked on his yawn, staring wide eyed at the blonde whom had just ducked behind the counter, still digging through the cupboard. "Right," was all he said for a moment before slouching down into a chair. He held his head in his hands, stifling another yawn. "I don't know, Malfoy, why are you? Is it because I'm paying you, and paying for you to attend whatever school we happen to come across?"

Draco looked up at him, clicking his tongue once, but didn't say anything. He smirked quietly to himself, still fishing through the cupboards before slamming it shut, and wincing at the loud sound. It wasn't fair, if you asked him. That bloody Weasley had used the fire to contact them. Well, to contact Harry, but that poor sod was out thrashing in his sleep. Apparently Pansy's little rumor of Harry being back in London had gotten around the campus of Flarus, and apparently so had Blaise's knowing of where he and Harry were staying. They were due for company that Draco didn't much want to have and that Harry didn't much know about. This was certainly turning out to be a very fun day indeed.

"Nightmares should be illegal," Harry grumbled through his hands. Draco sniggered at him before sitting up on the counter.

"You poor pup. Take a dreamless potion then," he offered bluntly with a roll of his shoulders.

Even though he knew Draco couldn't see him, Harry scowled. "You going to make them, then?" He asked, lifting his head up so that he could see the former Slytherin. "And I'm not a pup."

"No, but your wolf is," the blonde sniggered, slipping off of the counter. "I'll make your dreamless potion, Potter, but that's ten Sickles more on my monthly bill."

"Your monthly bill to meet my monthly problem."

"You mean your furry little problem."

"Bugger off, Malfoy."

They didn't say much else. Harry busied himself with looking at his left arm, tracing the scar on his forearm that was from the elbow to his wrist. Draco was busy looking at the paper, drinking what would have seemed to be tea, or just heated up water. It was the usual late morning routine. Harry was usually the last to get up, and then the two of them would have a short quip, go quiet, and then Harry was begin to fall back asleep. Then Draco had to clear his throat, causing Harry to look up at him with both eyebrows raised. He had opened his mother to ask a question, but Draco was already there with the answer.

"We have guests coming in-" He glanced at the clock, "five minutes. Weasley and Granger. Nearly died of shock when he fired, you know. You'd think that after all these years he'd recognize the best looking face of them all." Draco smirked before sniggering at himself. "You'll probably be wanting to get dressed, Potter. Even I don't fancy seeing you in your pajama's, looking like you've just had the best sex of your life when we both know that has yet to have happened."

Harry could only stare at Draco for what seemed like forever. Well, brilliant. They had guests coming in less than five minutes now, and he felt compelled to tell him about this now? He really had to wonder if his roommate was on some kind of potion that screwed with his brain cells or something. But still, he did little to complain about it before getting up and stretching his hands above his head. "And you didn't bother to wake me up? Merlin, Malfoy!" He grumbled before stalking off into his room to find a change of clothes.

Draco just smirked. "Coffee's on the counter, pup!" Harry threw something against the door. Draco sniggered.

Six minutes later Ron and Hermione had showed up, as promised, and Harry was still locked in his room, changing. Draco was left with the job was answering the door, and having to endure a rather awful silence with the two former Gryffindors. So he retreated back to his tea letting the two to look around the loft as they pleased, however keeping a watchful eye on the two of them. Hell if he was going to let them go about poking their noses in his things. They could go and trash all of Harry's stuff for all he cared. He did that on a daily basis anyway.

Eventually Hermione had taken a seat at the small table and Ron at the couch. Draco had to keep glancing between the two of them, still not very comfortable with the fact that he now had three former Gryffindor's in the loft. Having one stuck in the same living environment with him was one thing, he could handle Potter, he was at least entertaining, but having the sidekick and the know-it-all there as well was another story entirely. Finally, he spoke up.

"Can I get you something? Tea, some decent clothes? Maybe coffee perhaps?"

Whoops. Did he really just say that? Draco sniggered, guess so; Hermione was looking up oddly at him, and Ron was glaring daggers at him. Luckily the door to Harry's room opened and out came the raven-haired wizard to save them from the unbearable moment of silence. But in terms of clothing, he wasn't much better off than Ron with his faded blue shirt and jeans. Draco felt the urge to rush into his room and bury himself in homework to rid himself of the horrible images of badly dressed people.

"Oh, Harry!" Hermione cried, throwing herself out of her seat. She wrapped her arms around Harry's neck in a hug that seemed to have lasted forever. This of course caught Harry off guard and he had to catch his balance quickly 'else he'd fall over. He grinned despite himself, and returned Hermione's hug.

Finally, he released the girl, still grinning. "Hey, Hermione," he said, ignoring Draco who was in the kitchen mocking them like a six year old. Harry glanced over to Ron and allowed his grin to spread even more. "Hey, mate," Harry added as the redhead joined the two of them by the table.

Ron of course wasted no time getting into things.

"Bloody hell, Harry," he said, after a moment of Harry explaining where he had been. "The States? Merlin, Mum had a fit when she found out you left after Hogwarts. She and Dad were expecting that you'd stick around for a least a week or two. But the States?"

Hermione hit him on the arm. "Calm down, Ron," she said. "Honestly, it's not like he left for good, is it? After all, he's sitting right next to you! We can't all have stuck around after Hogwarts, you know. There are other things in the world outside of London."

Harry shook his head. Typical, very typical. "Easy you two," he laughed, shaking his head again. "It wasn't all just for fun. We, me and Malfoy, did attend a school over there. I think it was Texas - the state we were at. D'you know that they barely use the Floo over there? They hardly use the fire, too. It's insane."

"But with Malfoy?" Ron blurted. Draco looked indignant.

"We, um, we met up at the university there," Harry snorted, glancing over at Draco who looked highly amused. "Rooming stuck us together. You have no idea what a pain he is to deal with in the morning. It took him nearly an hour to get ready for class once. Made us both late."

"Times up!" Draco called impatiently from the kitchen, crossing his arms over his chest with a scowl. "We've got class in fifteen minutes, Potter. It'd be nice if we could actually get there on time for a change," he sneered, looking over at Ron and Hermione. "And I'd rather you didn't leave those two here. I'd hate to come back and see some bare assets romping on the carpet. Or the couch." He paused. "I think I'm going to have nightmares now."

Hermione's cheeks flushed and Ron's ears turned red. Harry just stared at Draco who had by this point retreated back to his own room only to emerge moments later with his book bag slung over his shoulder. He looked pointedly at Harry before strolling out of the loft, leaving the door open behind him.

It took Harry only a moment or two more to say his goodbyes to his friends who had insisted that they use the floor channel to get to where they were going. Harry made a dash for his room to grab his own book bag. By the time he had finally left the small loft Draco was long gone, and he was already late for his first class.