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Why is that every time I sleep, I'm still lying awake?

What is this reality?



Fragile
Chapter Five: Shallow Sleep

(Disclaimer: This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by JK Rowling, various publishers including but not limited to Bloomsbury Books, Scholastic Books and Raincoast Books, and Warner Bros., Inc. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended. Respects to Rikki, Squaresoft, Hineko Kari, for Suteki Da Ne lyrics and translations; also to Hyde, L'Arc~en~ciel, Trish Murphy for some inspiration for the fic.)
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So it was a bright sunny day, when it -the rain- decided to fall. How the pretty the droplets fell, from its colorless sky, and how it just occupied time's space. Well, it was a sunny day when it started, but no one really noticed. It was light drizzle anybody could have tolerated. But now, as Draco occupied himself in the common room, he watched through the windows. The rain was pitter-patting against the archaic building.

He was watching each droplet falling, from what little light there was inside. The rain comforted him somehow, perhaps wiping filth away. Maybe it was calming because of the thought itself. Water washes away filth from the earth, streaming into the sea. Tears fall down on cheeks, and drop to the ground. In theory, it was all the same. Maybe it was just comforting that way. At least he wouldn't have to spill unnecessary tears.

He could hear the crackling of the wood burning in the furnace. Its glow brought the room in a vanilla sun, a temporary means of light. Draco wasn't going down to dinner, and he snuck away without anyone realizing this. He gazed out the window once more, and went into the sixth year boys' dorm. He stopped in front of a bed, seeing it was his, and walked through the doorway. He saw all the other doors opened to beds the same way.

He shut his door ajar, and was relieved that his trunk was there. Opening the lid, he pulled out his sleepwear, and stripped. Changing in his sleepwear, he folded the shed clothing and placed it on the chair nearby. The house-elves would tend to it in the morning. He shut his trunk quietly, and he furrowed under the comforter of the four-poster, and shut his eyes. He was falling into oblivion.

Hours later, he tossed and turned, his mind plagued with horrifying images, it almost made his eyes peel open. His dreams were hanging on the little piece they had, and they weren't good. Draco refused to say he had nightmares. His pale skin had sheen of sweat covering, and his body was shaking, or maybe spastic. He shut his eyes to block the tears, and unconsciously covered his ears while muttering, "Make them stop, make them stop…"

Out of the blue, his vision set him in a familiar setting. He was standing in the astronomy tower, and coming up the stairs. He continued climbing, and he saw a shadow of a figure. He walked toward it, and touched it on the shoulder. Only his hand went through. He noticed the figure was sitting on the ledge. Then, he gasped.

The moonlight hinted features at Ron's face, its slender shape, and long eyelashes over such subtle cheeks. His lips were as red as normal, but they were in a pout no man or woman could resist. The moonlight made his hair glow a heavenly hue, and the red was now a crimson color. His skin looked paler than before, and it almost seemed like his freckles disappeared.This was Ronald Weasley. So why did his hand go through?

Ron opened his eyes, and tears were coming. None spilled, not just quite yet. But he had blurry eyes.

He saw how Ron uttered nonsense under his lips, but he couldn't say what. They were too incoherent to tell. When finally the tears fell from Ron's eyes, his eyes of blue, had now gone deep slate. It was finally happening, after all these times Draco knew. Ron was on the edge, not just literally, and Draco was never able to come help him. Draco was too much filth for this untainted beauty.

Ron had no sobs; instead, he had silent tears, each deadly, as they streamed down. He watched as Ron tried touching the moon. Why?

He wanted to bear hug the tall red-head, rock him gently and say sweet nothings. But he knew that he couldn't anyhow.

Draco finally felt his legs ache, and he sat down, cross-legged. He watched how the silence passed through the air, and thought hard on it. Who knows what Ron was contemplating?

As spectator, he saw how Ron held the snowflake that had newly fallen, and gazed at it. He looked weary. Draco shivered. What was he doing? Was he really dead? Was this a vision? Why? Questions piled up in his mind.

Ron hugged the tattered robes around him tight. The cold was now filling in the space, and Draco noticed too.

Then footsteps, light ones, pattered up the stairs. Who was out at this time, now?

What Draco saw, was another version of . . . him? He was just exactly like him. Ron had placed the cloak on -which was hanging next to him- as the other Draco finally was a few feet away from Weasley.

He looked like he was swept of emotions, the other one. But they clearly showed distinctly in his eyes. The odd part was, he was singing, and in a foreign language.

"Kaze ga yoseta kotoba ni, oyoida kokoro. Kumo ga hakobu ashita ni, hazunda koe. [1]"

He was humming all sorts of lyrics, though incomprehensible. With a sigh, he murmured, "Why must it be the same every single day?"

In a flash, he seemed to notice the snow outlining the cloak Ron was wearing. The other him was asking Ron who he was. Draco could hear the mumble of, "I'm nothing, really."

Draco, not the one sitting, came up to Ron, and pulled the hood from his head. He met with slate eyes, against his gray. His face filled with false anguish, "What the hell are you doing here, Weasley?" He sneered.

Draco reacted immediately, and remembered he couldn't do anything. So he stood standing, but inched closer. Ron faced the other Draco, and tears were already making rivulets. He spoke.

"I really don't know. But I'll tell you this. I won't be here much longer."

His eyes widened in fear, as he came closer to Ron. He faced the other direction, closed his eyes, and muttered a farewell. Draco ran towards the ledge, and saw him falling closer to the ground, but with bliss on his face.

That was when, he heard the other him scream. Looking down, he could see the frail body of Ron Weasley, in pieces.

Draco woke up, screaming, telling people to help Ron, for someone to help him. But his eyes were filled with tears, and he was wide awake. He buried his head in his pillow, and hugged it tight. At least he felt better, because this room he was in had a silencing spell. No one could hear him, and he was perfectly content.

Reaching in the dark, on the nightstand, he felt the wand that he had placed the night before. He whispered, "Lumos," and a tiny light fluttered at the tip. He placed it down on his bed, and sat up. Why did he dream that? What was with these-he cringed to say it-nightmares? They were plaguing him every night, but as bad as this. Moisture trickled down again, and he touched it as if it were blood.

So with that, he covered his face in his heads, and sobbed. He cried, and shed tears.

He was awake. But in reality, that was his face, but not his mind.
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ANs: [1] = My heart was swimming in words gathered by the wind. My voice bounded into a cloud-carried tomorrow.
You cannot believe how many references to different Japanese Pop songs and such there ARE! Yes, this is the depressing!Draco bit. ^__^ See! I TOLD you it would be ALL Draco.

READERS OF FRAGILE if you liked this chapter, I'm going to post its SIDE STORY "When Our Tears Streak the Skies" on FF.Net. It is the dream in RON'S POV, and is rather weak (in powerful emotion) than this. But besides that, I think I've gotten out of my writers' shell, or at least temporarily.

So, please, if you want more, do say! Flame or not, that is not WHY I continue. I CONTINUE because of people who actually CARE! Do you care? If you cared, you would consider reviewing or contacting me. XD As if there were any readers anyhow. XD

~A-Chan Yuy~
6/9/02 - 5:55 AM