You all hate me, I just know it. I am truly, sincerely, deep down in the depths of my heart sorry. I know it's been forever since I updated and stuff and I have lots of really good excuses although you probably don't care and won't take the time to read them but, here is goes *takes deep breath* FirstIhadmysemesterfinalstodealwithandohmygodweretheyapaininthebuttbuthenIhadplaypractiseeverydayexseptmostweekendsfromthreetosixwhichleftmeverylittletimeforwritingandthenIcouldn'tthinkofanythingandIwentintoaslumpbutwatchedGravitaionandpartofYaminoMatsueibothwhicharefilledwithyaioygoodnessandIhighlyrecomendthemandnaywaytheyhelped. *Whew!* You catch all that? Didn't think so but I am really sorry, you gotta believe me. *Big, sad, shiny puppy dog eyes* Pwease?

Dreams Of Remembrance

A Single Memory Of Dieing

Draco Pov

Blood, blood, everywhere. I am covered in blood, now not only my own but that of his, Harry Potter. His hand covered in blood and more blood, when his lips touched mine, I was lost in a sea blood. It seemed like a memory, I saw through my eyes, my own hands slitting my wrists with that blood thirsty knife my father had bought for me and Harry holding me, cutting his own wrists and sharing his blood with me and sealing the wounds with the flat burning red edge of the same knife. Then it was gone and I had blood running down my cheek and my lips were pressed against that of my arch rival.

I can still see his eyes watching mine and I can still see the blood. All throughout my life, that which I remember most vividly is my own blood but to see another's, upon my skin. I can't remove it from my mind. I can still feel it, drying on my skin. Those I pass look with shock and horror but I can't find my face, cover my expression with the mask of contempt I normally carry.

Someone blocking my path, no, something, "Goyle, move your fat ass out of my way, now."

He turns around and looks at me with that same stupid expression that always seems to be glued there.

"Wha happened to yur face Draco?"

"What does it look like dumb ass?"

"Looks like red stuff."

"Its blood you freakin idiot now get the fuck out of my way before I kill you."

He somehow miraculously manages to work it through his fat head this time and ambles out of the way. I pushed past him and stumbled into the small bathroom. Filling the sink with hot water, I desperately try to scrub from my face, of Potter's blood until the sink water is colored pink, like that night, before school started and…It matters not.

I can feel the train slowing, I don't even have time to change out these robes, the blood is still damp in the sleeve and around the collar. I shudder involuntarily at the thought. By the time I manage to collect myself the train is stopped and most have already gotten off and boarded the carriages. I follow finding one empty and climbing in. I start to close the door when another from the outside pulls it back open.

Him. Potter. He climbs in without even a glance in my direction. I think he has lost his mind, it can be the only explanation. His hand is now wrapped in clean white bandages but are beginning to soak with blood, his sleeve also is stained but you almost can't tell with these infernal black robes.

He turns and sits in front of me, propping his head with one hand and looking at me. I lean back, away from him, and start towards the door, he simply continues to watch me. I grab the door handle and…it's locked. How?…he didn't…I saw no wand, heard no spell. Then how did he?

"Draco…" He murmurs, that smile still plastered to that stupid mug of his.

I fix on my best scowl and look out the window.

"Look at me, Draco, or do I have to make you look at me, again?"

An image of his hands upon my face flashes through my mind and blood. I slowly turn and look at him, making eye contact with him only out of the corner of my eye. His smile transforms itself into an amused smirk, one that seems to mirror one of my own.

"What do you want, Potter?" I growl, trying to keep the fear from my voice. I am an asshole, I feel no guilt nor pain, I can handle this, just keep acting pissed off.

He reaches out and I tense up, he pauses for a moment then reaches out and takes my hand. I watch him, shock plastered on my every feature, I must look like so stupid fish out of water. His fingers draw invisible designs on my skin. Caressing me, his hands, are so kind. A shiver run down my back and pull my mind back from those thoughts. I have to hate him. I have to always hate Harry Potter.

He lifts my hand and I try, without success to remove it from his grip. He gently kisses the back of my hand, glancing up to gauge my reaction. His eyes crinkle in amusement at my discomfort. He drops my hand and sits back up. What is he trying to do?

"Draco, when I kissed you." Harry started, pausing when I shuddered, "When I kissed you I saw another image and I think you did too."

"I have no fucking idea what you're talking about, Potter."

He tilted his head, "Really? Are you saying you didn't see yourself dieing in a pool of blood and me, I remember holding you and sharing my blood with you and touching the wounds with a angry blood thirsty knife."

I felt my face betray my feelings, shock, dismay, "How the…?"

He nods slowly and glances out the window, sighing, "We'll be to the school soon. Death would be more pleasant."

I found no remark. Had he just said he would rather die than go to school? This cannot be Harry Potter.

"Who are you?"

He turned back and his smirk was replaced by a sad smile. I felt the carriage slow to a halt and he reached out and once again took my hand, this time I found no resistance. He pulls me gently over to him and as I comply I find his arm wrapping around my neck, his face next to mine. His breath hot on my ear. Reality shocks me back as he slowly draws his tongue along my cheek, tasting me. My breath catches in my throat as his mouth moves over, his free, undamaged hand through my hair, pushing it back. His mouth gently captures my earlobe and suckles upon it.

My mind is numb. I, I can't think strait. He brings out from within me, feelings. I don't know these feelings but, they are so precious to me. I have this nagging feeling that it cost dear to gain their trust and that I am such a fool to deign them. I want to die in this moment, without having to think about who is doing this to me. I'm drowning in ecstasy.

"Draco," He whispers in my ear, "Can I keep you?"

He releases me and leaves the carriage, stepping out into the cold autumn hair which toys with his stray locks. Beautiful…NO! God no! …Did I just think that? What does it mean?

"Draco, think about your answer carefully. Once, you answered yes but before you answer me again, remember."

I stumble and pull myself out of the carriage, watching him as he calmly walks to the castle, totally in control. An image of unshakable perfection…if I could kill these thoughts. What is going to happen to me?

TBC