Disclaimer: If I wanted to be J.K. Rowling, I'd have to die my hair blonde,
become incredibly rich, have a baby, and become a genius over night. But
since 3 out of 4 are absolutely impossible overnight, I guess I will just
have to give all the rightful credit to Ms. Rowling.
************************************************************************
Shrine to Dreamtime 2
Chapter 2: Labyrinth of Galaxies
Oh we're sinking like stones.
There is a point in everyone's life when they wake up and realize that the world they live is not what they believe it to be. Soon they begin to follow their own path. But God forbid that the new future does not comply with the old one mapped out before them. God forbid they do not obey. Then which one do they choose? Which path promises the most success, happiness, and love? What do they follow? Their heart, their mind, or someone else's will?
And so he dreamt. Postponing the decision as long as possible, evaluating and re-evaluating every opportunity until it passed by, waiting for fate to make the first move, Draco dreamt. Every morning he woke up in a haze, exhausted from the night's journey through a labyrinth of galaxies. And just before his mind became receptive to the sensations of the real world, Draco believed. His dream existed. Over the course of the night, he had been reborn into a distant land, and for the one hovering moment between sleep and wake, this land was real.
All that we fought for.
But dreams don't last forever and soon enough an ice blue gaze pierced the recesses of his dream boring him down into eternal power and will.
"Wake up, my little heir," whispered the silky voice of Lucius Malfoy, somewhere in the region directly above his son's face. "It is time for a new year."
A pause, then a little louder, sternly. "Up, Draco! You must leave as soon as you are ready for King's Cross. I will not be joining you today as I have a meeting with Fudge concerning my being reinstated as school governor. Get ready now! And remember everything you have learnt this summer!" With a sweep of his cloak, Lucius Malfoy exited the magnificently draped, black-curtained room.
Draco groaned and slowly struggled to sit up, cursing under his breath as a sharp pain entered his arm and his chest. His ribs were bandaged and his arm was in a sling. What the hell had happened? The last thing Draco remembered was that he had been flying peacefully on his Nimbus 2001 feeling the wind flow over the streamlined curves of his face to entwine in the tangles of his rippling platinum hair. Then all of a sudden, he felt a force building up in his mind and heart. It was an odd feeling, not quite dread, but something deeper. It kept building until he lost feeling in his limbs. Then everything had gone black.
Draco had rolled off his broom and tumbled through the air. Even though he had landed in a pile of leaves, he had broken several of his ribs and an arm, which, thanks to the expert healing skills of his mother, had been mended. The excruciating pain of broken limbs was replaced with a dull throb, a memory of a prior ache.
'I really wonder what happened. Flying doesn't usually make me feel so free that I completely lose touch with my physical body.' He chuckled at the terrible humour. A strange feeling came over him as he felt the corners of his mouth uplift in a tender smile. It felt so long since he had smiled let alone laughed and after this summer he did not think he would ever be able to smile again.
All those place we've gone.
It all started the moment he had come home from school. No, that moment with bloody Potter on the train. Lucius Malfoy, after waiting on the platform for his son, had come barging onto the Hogwarts Express only to find Draco, Crabbe, and Goyle all unconscious, sprawled on the floor covered in boils, mold, and unusual growths. After learning about the circumstances which led to their unique appearances, Lucius, furious and working himself into a rage, had taken Draco home and locked him in his room for a week with only two meals, sent by his personal house-elf, each day.
Lucius was not a nice man. He believed in class, in discipline, and in wealth and he held to these beliefs like a dying man to life. He wanted his son, his heir, to embody these values and achieve whatever greatness had managed to slip its way through his own fingers. Lucius Malfoy lived through his son, who received all the freedom, desires, and opportunity to unreservedly worship darkness, something that Lucius had only dreamt of at the same age. Draco, through whose blood ran the fiery essence of Malfoy and magic, was a promise for a powerful future, the green and silver glow at the end of the tunnel. It screamed the Malfoy name.
All of us are done for.
But that's where it all ended for Draco. He may be one part dream, but he was still nine parts human and those nine parts demanded of him freedom from Lucius' expectations. That delicate freedom was dying and fading, the cause of only one deadly creature too twisted and grotesque to be classified as human life: Lord Voldemort.
After the first downfall, the world turned away from darkness. The world condemned Voldemort, condemned the Death Eaters and that was it. Nobody ever remembered the innocent children of the dark followers. Everyone assumed them to be as evil as their seniors. No one ever remembered that they were only children, who wanted love and peace and friendship. So Draco learnt, at an early age, what it was like to be cruel and evil. He, and the others, learnt that strength lies in power, and in a time when they were forgot by the world of light, Voldemort came to love them enveloping them in a blanket of darkness, luring them into the magic with sweet words of a promised knowledge and power. They followed him with fervent hope that once their goal was achieved, the world would never forget them again.
There's nothing here to run from.
But evil fools the mind, the heart. With him, they discovered pain.and it was not a pleasant experience. Well, at least for those who survived. The ones who succumbed to the torture were strong, but broken, and lived to see the truth.
We live in a beautiful world.
Draco still had the scars. 'Like stupid Potter,' he thought, 'branded by evil, by Voldemort. I'm exactly like Scarhead!' He scoffed at the irony. He hated Harry with a fiery passion, but was gradually becoming Potter himself. First seeker, then the scar. What next, bloody friends with the Mudblood and Weasel? 'Enough on Potter! Stupid fellow's got it all! Fame, friends, the admiration of every bloody person in the wizarding world, and a damn broom that doesn't throw him off in damn mid-air!'
He paused for a moment, then whispered out loud to himself, "Even looks.I'll give him that. The Weasel girl loves him and who knows what Creevey does with all the pictures he takes. I can't even win with looks!" Draco laughed bitterly. "Oh shut up, Draco! He's not worth the energy it requires to think about him!"
Steaming at the ears with a new rage, Draco tumbled out of bed and began to physically and mentally prepare himself for a new year. The old masks slipped back into place and after a summer of toil, he finally felt comfort in routine.
Everybody here's got somebody to lean on
***********
"Ron! You've got dirt on your nose! I say, how ever do you manage to get dirt all over you without doing anything at all?!?"
"I don't know, Hermione! Maybe it comes from being around you and all your old, dusty book all the time!"
"Funny, but the last time I checked, people read with their eyes, Ron, not their noses!" said Hermione, rolling her eyes.
"Then why do they have the phrase '.with his beautiful nose buried in an old book.'?"
"Ron! That phrase is for people who are actually deeply interested in what their reading!"
"And I was deeply interested!" snapped Ron. It was a blatant lie, but he refused to let Hermione win this argument. His dignity had suffered enough at the violent whiplashes of her witty tongue and he could not stand any more loss.
"Honestly, Ron! Am I to believe that you were so engrossed in Hogwarts: A History that you let all the dust collect on your nose?"
"Ah ha! Little did you know that I was actually reading a copy of Simply Seasoned Seductive Sorceresses hidden within that old book!"
"Well, then, if you were reading a new magazine, however did you get dirt on your nose?!?" It was silent as Ron pondered in thought desperately trying to retrieve some of the dignity slipping out of his hands.
"I'm near-sighted and my nose was really caught in the pages of a dirty old book?" he said sheepishly.
"Nice try, Ron, but you still lost the argument." she giggled harder as Ron started spluttering away with excuse after excuse.
"By the way," said Hermione, suspicion growing on her face, "what were you doing with a copy of that dirty magazine, Simply Seasoned Seductive Sorceresses?"
Just then, the train whistle blew, signifying the last chance for students to board the train. Ron, whose spluttering had suddenly ceased, took one glance at the look on Hermione's face, turned around, and scampered off to the door of the train. But before he disappeared into the Hogwarts Express, he turned to Hermione, a smirk on his face and a glint in his eyes, and called out, "I read it for the articles!" With that, he disappeared onto the train. The suspicious look flew off Hermione's face and she burst out laughing as she followed Ron onto the train.
Just as she climbed up the few steps and turned down the hallway, a powerful, velvet-covered arm was thrust out in front of her and out of the first compartment stepped Draco Malfoy, a malicious grin gracing his pale face. Ron, who had turned to see whether Hermione was following him, glared as he saw the blonde and winced at the sound of the sly voice.
"What's this? Mudblood caught out on her own with no Potty and Weasel to defend her? They didn't leave you to go screw each other's brains out in the back compartment, did they?" He clucked his tongue as Ron, flushed red behind him, silently crept closer. "Poor know-it-all. Why don't you come and join the bad boys and have some real fun?"
A fist slammed into his head, Hermione screamed and jumped aside as Draco went face first into the door frame just as the train started to pull away from the platform. Hermione and Ron heard a sickening crack and blood spurted everywhere. Malfoy crumpled to the floor.
************************************************************************
Author's note: You won't believe how amazing it is to actually call myself an author. I may not be that great, but I'm trying. Sorry if this chapter was late, but exams kept me busy for the last couple weeks. I am honestly just making this up as I go, so it sometimes takes a bit of time to get the creative juices (whatever I have) to start flowing. Thank you to all who reviewed my first chapter. You gave me the confidence to post another one. And special thanks to Angel for just being plain cool.
I also apologize for the way this chapter ended so abruptly. It was actually supposed to end with a nice cliff hanger further on, but I've been pressed for time and I really want to get this next chapter posted. More still to come!
By the way, Angel and I are starting our own Harry Potter website and we were wondering if anyone had a fic they would kindly allow us to post on to our website. It is really sort of hard to have a sight with only two stories (Angel's and mine). Thanks everyone, and I will try very hard to get the next chapter up ASAP.
By the way again, the italicized words in both chapters were taking from Coldplay lyrics. The first chapter was Clocks and this chapter was Don't Panic. Stop laughing Angel!
Shrine to Dreamtime 2
Chapter 2: Labyrinth of Galaxies
Oh we're sinking like stones.
There is a point in everyone's life when they wake up and realize that the world they live is not what they believe it to be. Soon they begin to follow their own path. But God forbid that the new future does not comply with the old one mapped out before them. God forbid they do not obey. Then which one do they choose? Which path promises the most success, happiness, and love? What do they follow? Their heart, their mind, or someone else's will?
And so he dreamt. Postponing the decision as long as possible, evaluating and re-evaluating every opportunity until it passed by, waiting for fate to make the first move, Draco dreamt. Every morning he woke up in a haze, exhausted from the night's journey through a labyrinth of galaxies. And just before his mind became receptive to the sensations of the real world, Draco believed. His dream existed. Over the course of the night, he had been reborn into a distant land, and for the one hovering moment between sleep and wake, this land was real.
All that we fought for.
But dreams don't last forever and soon enough an ice blue gaze pierced the recesses of his dream boring him down into eternal power and will.
"Wake up, my little heir," whispered the silky voice of Lucius Malfoy, somewhere in the region directly above his son's face. "It is time for a new year."
A pause, then a little louder, sternly. "Up, Draco! You must leave as soon as you are ready for King's Cross. I will not be joining you today as I have a meeting with Fudge concerning my being reinstated as school governor. Get ready now! And remember everything you have learnt this summer!" With a sweep of his cloak, Lucius Malfoy exited the magnificently draped, black-curtained room.
Draco groaned and slowly struggled to sit up, cursing under his breath as a sharp pain entered his arm and his chest. His ribs were bandaged and his arm was in a sling. What the hell had happened? The last thing Draco remembered was that he had been flying peacefully on his Nimbus 2001 feeling the wind flow over the streamlined curves of his face to entwine in the tangles of his rippling platinum hair. Then all of a sudden, he felt a force building up in his mind and heart. It was an odd feeling, not quite dread, but something deeper. It kept building until he lost feeling in his limbs. Then everything had gone black.
Draco had rolled off his broom and tumbled through the air. Even though he had landed in a pile of leaves, he had broken several of his ribs and an arm, which, thanks to the expert healing skills of his mother, had been mended. The excruciating pain of broken limbs was replaced with a dull throb, a memory of a prior ache.
'I really wonder what happened. Flying doesn't usually make me feel so free that I completely lose touch with my physical body.' He chuckled at the terrible humour. A strange feeling came over him as he felt the corners of his mouth uplift in a tender smile. It felt so long since he had smiled let alone laughed and after this summer he did not think he would ever be able to smile again.
All those place we've gone.
It all started the moment he had come home from school. No, that moment with bloody Potter on the train. Lucius Malfoy, after waiting on the platform for his son, had come barging onto the Hogwarts Express only to find Draco, Crabbe, and Goyle all unconscious, sprawled on the floor covered in boils, mold, and unusual growths. After learning about the circumstances which led to their unique appearances, Lucius, furious and working himself into a rage, had taken Draco home and locked him in his room for a week with only two meals, sent by his personal house-elf, each day.
Lucius was not a nice man. He believed in class, in discipline, and in wealth and he held to these beliefs like a dying man to life. He wanted his son, his heir, to embody these values and achieve whatever greatness had managed to slip its way through his own fingers. Lucius Malfoy lived through his son, who received all the freedom, desires, and opportunity to unreservedly worship darkness, something that Lucius had only dreamt of at the same age. Draco, through whose blood ran the fiery essence of Malfoy and magic, was a promise for a powerful future, the green and silver glow at the end of the tunnel. It screamed the Malfoy name.
All of us are done for.
But that's where it all ended for Draco. He may be one part dream, but he was still nine parts human and those nine parts demanded of him freedom from Lucius' expectations. That delicate freedom was dying and fading, the cause of only one deadly creature too twisted and grotesque to be classified as human life: Lord Voldemort.
After the first downfall, the world turned away from darkness. The world condemned Voldemort, condemned the Death Eaters and that was it. Nobody ever remembered the innocent children of the dark followers. Everyone assumed them to be as evil as their seniors. No one ever remembered that they were only children, who wanted love and peace and friendship. So Draco learnt, at an early age, what it was like to be cruel and evil. He, and the others, learnt that strength lies in power, and in a time when they were forgot by the world of light, Voldemort came to love them enveloping them in a blanket of darkness, luring them into the magic with sweet words of a promised knowledge and power. They followed him with fervent hope that once their goal was achieved, the world would never forget them again.
There's nothing here to run from.
But evil fools the mind, the heart. With him, they discovered pain.and it was not a pleasant experience. Well, at least for those who survived. The ones who succumbed to the torture were strong, but broken, and lived to see the truth.
We live in a beautiful world.
Draco still had the scars. 'Like stupid Potter,' he thought, 'branded by evil, by Voldemort. I'm exactly like Scarhead!' He scoffed at the irony. He hated Harry with a fiery passion, but was gradually becoming Potter himself. First seeker, then the scar. What next, bloody friends with the Mudblood and Weasel? 'Enough on Potter! Stupid fellow's got it all! Fame, friends, the admiration of every bloody person in the wizarding world, and a damn broom that doesn't throw him off in damn mid-air!'
He paused for a moment, then whispered out loud to himself, "Even looks.I'll give him that. The Weasel girl loves him and who knows what Creevey does with all the pictures he takes. I can't even win with looks!" Draco laughed bitterly. "Oh shut up, Draco! He's not worth the energy it requires to think about him!"
Steaming at the ears with a new rage, Draco tumbled out of bed and began to physically and mentally prepare himself for a new year. The old masks slipped back into place and after a summer of toil, he finally felt comfort in routine.
Everybody here's got somebody to lean on
***********
"Ron! You've got dirt on your nose! I say, how ever do you manage to get dirt all over you without doing anything at all?!?"
"I don't know, Hermione! Maybe it comes from being around you and all your old, dusty book all the time!"
"Funny, but the last time I checked, people read with their eyes, Ron, not their noses!" said Hermione, rolling her eyes.
"Then why do they have the phrase '.with his beautiful nose buried in an old book.'?"
"Ron! That phrase is for people who are actually deeply interested in what their reading!"
"And I was deeply interested!" snapped Ron. It was a blatant lie, but he refused to let Hermione win this argument. His dignity had suffered enough at the violent whiplashes of her witty tongue and he could not stand any more loss.
"Honestly, Ron! Am I to believe that you were so engrossed in Hogwarts: A History that you let all the dust collect on your nose?"
"Ah ha! Little did you know that I was actually reading a copy of Simply Seasoned Seductive Sorceresses hidden within that old book!"
"Well, then, if you were reading a new magazine, however did you get dirt on your nose?!?" It was silent as Ron pondered in thought desperately trying to retrieve some of the dignity slipping out of his hands.
"I'm near-sighted and my nose was really caught in the pages of a dirty old book?" he said sheepishly.
"Nice try, Ron, but you still lost the argument." she giggled harder as Ron started spluttering away with excuse after excuse.
"By the way," said Hermione, suspicion growing on her face, "what were you doing with a copy of that dirty magazine, Simply Seasoned Seductive Sorceresses?"
Just then, the train whistle blew, signifying the last chance for students to board the train. Ron, whose spluttering had suddenly ceased, took one glance at the look on Hermione's face, turned around, and scampered off to the door of the train. But before he disappeared into the Hogwarts Express, he turned to Hermione, a smirk on his face and a glint in his eyes, and called out, "I read it for the articles!" With that, he disappeared onto the train. The suspicious look flew off Hermione's face and she burst out laughing as she followed Ron onto the train.
Just as she climbed up the few steps and turned down the hallway, a powerful, velvet-covered arm was thrust out in front of her and out of the first compartment stepped Draco Malfoy, a malicious grin gracing his pale face. Ron, who had turned to see whether Hermione was following him, glared as he saw the blonde and winced at the sound of the sly voice.
"What's this? Mudblood caught out on her own with no Potty and Weasel to defend her? They didn't leave you to go screw each other's brains out in the back compartment, did they?" He clucked his tongue as Ron, flushed red behind him, silently crept closer. "Poor know-it-all. Why don't you come and join the bad boys and have some real fun?"
A fist slammed into his head, Hermione screamed and jumped aside as Draco went face first into the door frame just as the train started to pull away from the platform. Hermione and Ron heard a sickening crack and blood spurted everywhere. Malfoy crumpled to the floor.
************************************************************************
Author's note: You won't believe how amazing it is to actually call myself an author. I may not be that great, but I'm trying. Sorry if this chapter was late, but exams kept me busy for the last couple weeks. I am honestly just making this up as I go, so it sometimes takes a bit of time to get the creative juices (whatever I have) to start flowing. Thank you to all who reviewed my first chapter. You gave me the confidence to post another one. And special thanks to Angel for just being plain cool.
I also apologize for the way this chapter ended so abruptly. It was actually supposed to end with a nice cliff hanger further on, but I've been pressed for time and I really want to get this next chapter posted. More still to come!
By the way, Angel and I are starting our own Harry Potter website and we were wondering if anyone had a fic they would kindly allow us to post on to our website. It is really sort of hard to have a sight with only two stories (Angel's and mine). Thanks everyone, and I will try very hard to get the next chapter up ASAP.
By the way again, the italicized words in both chapters were taking from Coldplay lyrics. The first chapter was Clocks and this chapter was Don't Panic. Stop laughing Angel!