+ A Memory In Scarlet +

Dawn Crusader

Chapter 1 – Painted Canvas

Draco cast his pale hand into the glass before drawing it out again. The clock in the solitude of Slytherin common room clicked in a steady rhythm. Draco sighed, emitting a cloudy fog along the outskirt of the glass. The common room was empty and he sat alone with only the dim glow of a single candle to light his thin movements.

"Draco," came the solitude whisper of the midnight silence.

"Shut up," he growled fiercely, grinding his fist into the desk.

He knew the voice wasn't real, he knew his mind played tricks, but he still couldn't help be afraid of the silent screams that echoed to only those who could hear the sound.

The whistles of the wind caressed the sharp autumn branches as they scratched menacingly at the closed window. Draco looked. His meaningless eyes unable to grasp the concept of the night's occurrences.

"Draco-?" Draco closed his eyes again, the night was speaking in it's hushed screams. But then Draco cut off his barrier between the paths of hours of darkness to realise this voice was unlike the last, this voice wasn't sharp and demanding, it was a female. Draco whipped around in surprise of the voice.

"Draco, are you alright?" asked Pansy Parkinson, who stood, partially rested on the banister in her deep purple pyjamas.

Draco grunted insignificantly before resting his head down on the desk. However, she was persistent.

"Draco, you can't keep going on at this, look at you, you don't look well," she said looking at the sallow, colourless skin and the dark blotches under his eyes.

He looked at her full of worthless, empty stares. She tilted her head to one side looking concerned.

"You're getting thin, Draco," she said picking one of his skeletal wrists from the table. He quickly moved away from her.

Disgruntled, she sat still where she was before turning back up the stairway without a glimpse back.

Draco seemed satisfied with this result. And casually lay back down to listen to the clock.

Eventually, his eyes became heavy and slowly closed and Draco was asleep.

Draco walked through a pair of silver glass doors into a dark open ground of dust and dirt, the starless sky above him showed shades of purple and sapphire blues, around were different doorways all with danger signs blinking in bright colours. Draco sighed, before hearing someone run through the demonic thorn bushes that curled into sharp spirals. He shot the person a look and saw that it was a girl. He saw her fawn curled hair float past her bleeding face, she shot him a look of terror and warning before heading through the door marked with the sign 'no way out' Draco knew the girl. But what was she doing in his dream? Without thinking he followed her through the door. The place he stood now was much like the place he had just been, only instead of the dark entwining shadows and objects, the girl now sat on a wooden swing tied to a tree, she smiled, although the marks and dried blood from the wasteland she had just been in remained. Laughing she swung higher and higher until she wasn't really there at all. In the other direction was a large white canvas. It wasn't drawn upon, it had no marks, and only an occasional crisp, orange leaf flew past the surface. Draco moved closer, until he stood in front of it. Then, a passage of words began to appear in solid scarlet letters.

There are no wars were it dips it's finger

It smoothes them out or walks around the battlefield

It has friends who are enemies; it has enemies who are friends

With itself. With each other. With themselves.

Then it sneaks into corners

It's probably not intentional

But the time draws thin and what lives in darkness and hate Will become the most wicked or the most precious hero the world has seen

This is the calling my dear.

This is the calling.

And without giving time, the words dissolved into the paper before being rewritten again. A cry echoed across the wasteland, and turning swiftly Draco saw that girl with the fawn hair. She laughed before disappearing. Then the world he stood in gradually fell apart until it was completely destroyed.

Draco woke up in a cold sweat. The October sunrise peeled through the window. Pansy stood over him, like a vulture, looking half-concerned, half-angry. She sighed.

"What?" Draco asked, standing up.

"What were you dreaming about?" she asked.

"I can't really remember," Draco said. Rubbing his forehead.

"I see, you were talking in your sleep." She said matter-of-factly.

"Was I?" he asked.

"You said 'but the time draws thin and what lives in darkness and hate will become the most wicked or the most precious hero the world has seen' and you also said 'This is the calling my dear, this is the calling'" she said.

Draco looked at her, not knowing what to say.

"You also said one other thing," she sniffed, turning up her nose.

"Yeah, and what was that?" he asked.

"You called out 'Hermione, wait, don't go Hermione.'" She said angrily before flouncing out of the common room with her nose in the air.