DREAMING OF YOU
Rating: G Pairing: Harry/Sirius pre-slash Warning: OotP Spoliers! Author's Notes: This is part one of a series of drabbles that will probably blend into a longer story at some point in the future. It answers to the weekly dictionary challenges on the Canis Major Yahoogroup. This week's word: kickshaw
Thank you to my betas QueenC and Charlotte!
The boy was dreaming. He was tossing and turning and his agitated head movements indicated he was having an upsetting dream. The slowly fading smell of incense and candles lingered in the air and were probably connected to this special boy's dreams.
If one could take a look into his head and disturbing dreams, one could see something that looked like a giant photograph in his mind's eye. This photo was of a black-haired youth, just like the photo the boy had used not long before. However, now the person wasn't smiling or waving. Instead he was looking rather sombrely at the boy and only mouthed 'Harry, Harry' over and over again, barely a moment between each repetition.
With one rather intense movement of the boy the scene changed slightly: The photograph was smaller and was slowly being surrounded by flickering flames and small shards of glass. The flames were reflected on the fragments of the former mirror and both were strangely drawn towards the centre, towards the photograph.
When they all met, the flames started to slowly enclose both the paper and the glass, melting them together and moulding them into ever new shapes. After several minutes, which could have been moments or even hours the flames withdrew to the very top of the little amulet they had created.
Now, if one could look closer at the figurine, one could see that the glass had been modelled into the form of a transparent, almost white dog that had the face from the photograph in place of its own face. The flames were barely touching the tips of its ears, giving it an eerie red glow.
The figure was mouthing something; something that became clearer and clearer when the intensity became higher until in the end it was echoing in the empty darkness, causing it to amplify a hundred times, only to explode into a million tiny pieces, waking the boy up with a start.
He lay there for several seconds, sweat slowly forming on his forehead and rolling down his temple and into his likewise sweaty hair. When his heart rate had calmed down a bit, he turned to his side, quietly murmuring to himself 'I will come for you. I will come for you', not noticing the small scratches covering his face and the single driblet of blood trickling onto his pillow. Talking Drabbles
