I'm sorry, that's all I can say, but you know I begging and pleading your forgiveness and praying to whatever omnipotent being you believe in that you won't all lynch me deep down inside. Of course my explanation isn't much better. You see I went to Hawaii for a week and it was really, really nice but I couldn't bring my laptop, little Ario, along with me, so no writing then. When I got home my friend lent me this really, really good video game, dot hack infection, you have to play it, and every day I came home from school I had to ask myself, video game or writing, dot hack won out most of the time but, anyway, this chapter is like a desperate apology for not writing. A whole four pages, it's got to be one of the longest Dreams of Remembrance chapters ever. So don't kill me, read, enjoy and, goddess be willing, Review!

Aura

Harry sat at the end of one of the four expansive tables signifying the four houses. The light just beginning to pierce the darkness of the false ceiling above. Dawn herald the waking morn and the rise of those living there within. A soft breeze echoing from some unseen corner circled the room, traveling last down the Ravenclaw table, the house prefigure of intelligence, and twined up Harry's stiff form, who shivered slightly, gathering his blood tainted robes more closely around him.

Harry frowned as the rays of light from above penetrated his dark shadow. He gazed down eyes flowing over the two prone figures on the floor, one that breathed and one lacking of that which in makes a person whole, his soul was gone.

Harry hadn't intended on obliterating Ron's soul, the magic hadn't spoke of such a price when it had whispered the spell into his ear late in the full moon rise. One thing for certain, no matter how the Goddess wished to manipulate Harry's life now, Ron would no longer be in it. A soul once destroyed can never again find a way to any realm. Ron was lost. Harry fought down a smile at this appealing thought.

The magic twists you, Harry thought but then he knew that as soon as he began using it. All good will and intentions lost and replaced with an over whelming need, for no cost stands in the way of ultimate power, a need for what the wielder wants most in the world. Harry wants only a few things, to be recognized for more than not dieing, to have a life of comfort and love, and most important and foremost, Draco.

Draco who lay upon the floor, curled into a ball, a mere amount of feet from where Harry sat upon the Ravenclaw table. Blood soaked Draco's robes his frame wracked with shaking from a nonexistent cold, his face drawn with exhaustion.

Harry wasn't sure if it had worked, such a risky spell, left to trusting the voice in the silence of night in Harry's dreams. Could a spell, even a powerful one, break the containment of Draco's lost memories? Harry knew his own access to the flow of pure magic had allowed him to penetrate the Goddess's fold over his mind but could he do the same to Draco?

Harry slid off the table and walked the few steps over to Draco's trembling form. He knelt before Draco and carefully wiped a red stained lock from Draco's eyes.

"Draco?" Harry whispered, trailing a finger down the pale cheek, "Draco?" he inquired once more, his finger coming to rest atop Draco's lips, breath stirring from within.

Harry felt Draco's breath quicken slightly, and watched as his beautiful storm grey eyes opened and met his own.

"Draco." Harry smiled softly.

Draco pulled away slightly, watching Harry like a wild beast might wary its captor. He pulled himself up slowly, his arms shaking from ague, until he was sitting up, weaving slightly, with one hand still held to the ground to not lose the precious balance gained.

Harry's expression deepened, he reached out slowly, pausing as Draco made to move back again and finally was allowed to touch Draco's face, cupping it to one side, his other hand brushing away hair from Draco's eyes. Draco's eyes closed slowly and leaned into Harry hand, a movement quivered at Draco's mouth that may have been a smile but it pulled away and Draco's face settled into contentment.

Harry sank down to sit in front of Draco, watching his eyes. The hand that had before combed through Draco's bloodied locks pulled away and made to press a single finger in the center of Draco's forehead but Draco warily pulled away from it but seemed unwilling to pull from the hand cradling his face.

"Draco? Please…" Harry pleaded, fighting the desperation that had begun to take root in his very being, "Draco…trust me please, or at least speak to me? I want to hear your voice."

Draco closed his eyes slowly and his mouth opened to form words but nothing but silence yielded. Draco reached up and touched his own throat, a look of despair reflected in his eyes, begging with his eyes for Harry to help him.

Harry's despair overwhelmed him and came to share place with fear, a pin prick of light, pure and clean, shone upon the finger tip once before pulled away from. Harry once again reached forward and this time Draco didn't pull away but submitted to Harry's careful touch.

Harry slipped in Draco's inner mental barrier with ease; inside he found Draco's mind a clutter as if a greedy pillager had ravaged it. As Harry slipped through Draco's brutalized mind, touching nothing he realized what had happened there in. The spell whispered in the night had conflicted so violently with the Goddesses seal, it had almost destroyed Draco's mind. But, the pieces were all there, the mind was broken but all the pieces were there so it could be put back together, slowly carefully. It would take time and patience, but most importantly he would need to keep Draco's mind in balance, to much emotion, to much anger or grief could push Draco into madness.

Harry sighed and gently eased Draco towards himself. Draco complied, fatigue giving him little other choice other than to collapse upon himself. Harry felt as if he was coaxing a kitten into his arms and Draco in fact was left with little more in thoughts at the moment. He wanted warmth, food and someplace safe and within the recesses of his shattered memories he knew that this person, smelling of blood and darkness, would hold him safe.

Although he knew he could provide food, shelter and safely, there was something even more important that this person could offer although but he couldn't remember now, couldn't remember anything, the one who knew such of little and nothing at all. The one who was so kind, the one who promised something unknown but yearned for, he had called the mind-lost one, Draco. Was that my name? That name holds too much pain; the one closed his ears to it, pushing the pain away from his minds eye.

The vestiges of his strength diminished the one, the lost voice amid millions, gave himself up to the stranger. Half crawling, half falling the one fell against the kind stranger, pressing his body close to the stranger, trying to absorb his body heart; too cold, the one was so cold. He closed his eyes and sank into a dark oblivion of depthless sleep.

Harry gathered Draco closer to himself, pressing himself up into standing position and leaned back against the Ravenclaw table, carefully readjusting Draco's unconscious form. As he did so the sun finally filtered through grey dust filaments of dawn, spreading its light upon the grisly scene that, before, was muted in the twilight. Harry stood silent a moment, studying that which lay before him, that which he created and destroyed.

The cross had faded, a product of unsupported magic, it had vanished as Harry had pulled them from his void, the initial wave of magic released from the spell destabilizing the field of nothingness. The collapsing of the void had, consequently, resulted in a time alteration, so that when Harry finally returned to the true world the time had not only shifted from midnight to predawn but the shift had also propelled them into hall instead of the library where they had left from.

Ron's body glistened dully in the light, half congealed blood caught in between solid and liquid. The design carved upon his body, muted by the overlaying blood but blatantly obvious at the same time. His skin, what little was clean was waxy and utterly colorless, his eyes locked open in rigor mortis, the last expression before death set upon him with that last fatal blow was one of shock, horror, and betrayal. Harry had read in a book once, or more rather listened as Hermione lectured to them, about how when a person dies a violent death, the last thing they see is so forceful imprinted in their mind that it can be retrieved by certain spells.

Harry knew exactly what they would see and knew, was sure that, they would think, 'our beloved Harry Potter couldn't do that, not our little hero' and they'll whip up a convenient little story about how Draco was controlling Harry and it's all Voldemort's fault. They'll never get it, until it's blatantly rubbed in their faces they can't even see the truth before their own noses.

Tom Riddle was like that as well, certainly he didn't stop a tyrannical wizard bent on destroying all of muggle kind but he did manage, to not die at one very crucial point in his life and came back, just as Harry grew up and they met again and again. But, in the beginning Voldemort was just Tom Riddle, smart, popular to a certain extent, head boy, and good looking. Tom Riddle was in fact not much different from Harry Potter. Both have/had dreams no one was willing to see past that perfect little facade they built up. In a way it is their fault for pushing Tom Riddle to the edge and, yet they don't know it yet, Harry was long ago push over that edge.

Harry turned slowly facing the door just as it moved open itself, Professor Dumbledore directing his wand at the stubborn doors, behind him the irritable voices of McGonagul and Snape, arguing about something or another. Behind even those voice were lighter ones, voices of those students who had risen earlier than the other in their dorms, which would be following shortly behind. Most hadn't turned the corner yet, to gaze upon the spectacle artfully contrived on the dining hall floor. Dumbledore was to locked in his own happy world, opening the doors with odd eccentric twitches of his wand, ultimately he turned, the doors only half open, the smell was probably what had finally woken his senses. Death hung in the air.

A light ringing sound echoed through the hollow drawing of the bloodied hall, Dumbledore's glasses had fallen upon the floor. He stared in shock at the archaic stone walls of the ancient castle, covered in streaks and sprays of blood.

Everything that had happened in the void had been transposed to this room. In various places the walls had smeared and drawn, bloodied handprints as if Ron psyche restrained by the cross before had wrecked its havoc in it last dieing will. Tables were rent with great rashes along their ancient coppice and shimmering with flakes of blood. The hangings upon the wall, signifying the four houses had been rent to tatters, the hanging with the Hogwarts coat of arm on it was the only thing left seemingly untouched except for the design of blood meticulously painted there on. The symbol for snake circling the outer rim the internal design was familiar, a swirling, defiant symbol, the symbol of Draco's soul and overlaid upon that where two letters, curling in an antediluvian fashion, H P

Harry watched as the Headmaster's eyes slowly absorbed all that lay before him, lastly straying to look upon Ron's mutilated form and Harry, Draco held tightly in his arms. Behind him others appeared, shock, dismay, horror, most of the students ran off to be sick, others looked on in horrific fascination, others in shock, Hermione among them.

Harry sighed softly, looking down at his precious cargo and back up at those assembled. He smiled slightly and muttered, "I hope it doesn't stain to badly." He shifted the weight in his arms and walked through the crowd, who rippled away from him, afraid to touch him, and headed up the stairs to his room. He was exhausted.

TBC!

Fun huh? Please review, I'll love you forever, well maybe not forever, but for as long as you review! Comment, ideas, maybe even a flame or two, please? Sorry about not writing Thankies this time around, I have very limited internet access at home that includes uploading chapters and every now and then checking my reviews, that's about it. Sorry Thank you Love You Hate You Don't Take That Literally Ok Good.