**Dreamscape** "So strange, like turning, churning, facing, racing..... Pain ripping and love dying, stories told, growing old..." Draco opened his eyes, a sickness burning down inside of him, not seen but rotting him from the inside out. I feel so.... Empty.... Draco tried to move, bracing himself for the nauseous, half dead feeling from the virus, but amazingly, he found he could move quite well. But what could he move to? It was like he was floating in a pool of black. He could see nothing, hear nothing. Am I dead? If so... this is so.... Boring. He thought, and snickered to himself... thinking about how even dead he was sarcastic. Then he was on a grassy ground, looking up at a smoky evening sky. A throbbing pain was going through him, and despite his tries to scream, no sound was made. What is this.... Is this the black curse? He wondered, then wondered how that had come to his head.... He had never wondered what Avada Kedevra did... nor did he ever pity any that died under it. Emotions were just not part of him. Then someone was talking: "Just let him go, your fight is with me!" And who are you? Draco thought... the voice was obviously a savior... and strangely familiar. A face drifted over him, checking him for wounds. Draco looked into the eyes and screamed.