Chapter Three
Oh
my God! My God this can't be happening!
God tell me, tell me this
isn't real!
I can't believe all that I have
foreseen is finally
happening.
I
cannot for a single second stand the way I feel.
I always knew. I
always saw it coming.
Enveloped now, encased by my worst
fear.
I've never felt the nausea of longing to feel nothing,
I
never wanted to cease to
exist, just disappear. Fear memories are
all that lie ahead.
Never have I felt so lost. Memories dull my
senses.
Fear tragedy is all that lies ahead.
Never
have I felt so dead.
Once felt so warm, now I'm fucking
freezing.
I am the once embraced abandoned one.
I raised my
eyes up to the light in hopes of finding healing;
no relief was
mine, I was burnt, by the sun.
Lyrics by AFI, "A Single Second"
--
Harry stood over Draco's grave with the diamond full of runes and the scroll. He took in a deep heavy breath of the chilly freshly cut grass air.
Pulling open the scroll he began to read it silently. He looked back to Draco's grave, making a silent promise that he'd make sure that everything went right.
He followed the scrolls instructions, aligning himself at the front of Draco's grave and kneeling down. Beginning to chant the line on the scroll, his stomach was all flutters, his heart was beating nervously.
The fact that Draco could be with him again in just a few short moments was slowly dawning on him as he continued to say the spell, his voice increasing in speed and volume.
The background noises of animals and wind died down around him as the world beneath him seemed to shake. The diamond began to float above Draco's grave; the dark sky turned the colors of the diamond, ever changing and never stopping long enough on one color to name it.
Darkness became light, or maybe time had gone by so quickly that the sun had started to rise. Harry was still repeating the spell, beginning to feel lightheaded. He didn't know how long he'd have to go on because the scroll didn't tell him, so his mouth kept going – he couldn't control it anymore anyway.
The diamond made a piercing noise, but his hands, instead of reaching for his ears, reached out towards the diamond. It exploded in a burst of dust and color and fell into his open palms. Allowing the dust to fall through his fingers it landed in a cloud across the grave.
Harry suddenly stopped speaking and as he was in the process of frowning, he was thrown back by a big blast of wind. He fell on his back, his glasses falling ahead of him. Immediately he sat up to see the light from the sun – or what seemed like the sun, hitting the grave, and the ground below glowing brightly.
The light flittered away, the glowing died down, and Harry saw a figure lying atop the grave. He scurried over on his hand and knees through the grass, grabbing his glasses and putting them on.
Draco was lying there, pale, dirt covered and naked. Draco's eyes were closed and Harry checked the boys thin wrist for a pulse to make sure he was only asleep, he was.
Harry silently watched Draco sleeping – he had seen him so often in his dreams, and this seemed just like them.
He reached up and ran a hand across Draco's smooth face. This was perfect, Draco was with him again. The blonde shivered in his sleep, and Harry quickly shed his cloak, and placed it over Draco's body.
Harry sat in blissful silence for a while – he had all the time in the world to wake Draco. The sun was still up, but it was not very high in the sky. The morning birds sang, and he sat silently waiting for Draco to awake.
It was an hour later when Draco started to stir. The boys eyes slowly opened and he shifted slightly from under Harry's cloak.
Removing his hand from the boys hair, he moved back a little so he wouldn't startle him.
Draco started to sit up and the cloak was sliding down, Draco caught it as he yawned and blinked a few times, his eyes opened and he stared around confused, and when he saw Harry he gave a slight jump.
"Hey," Harry said softly.
Draco didn't answer; he instead slid the cloak on, closing it, and tried to stand up. Harry quickly helped him, lifting the shaken Draco, supporting him on his shoulder.
"Potter?" Draco asked in a low confused voice.
His heart stopped and he glanced over at Draco.
Did he really just called me Potter?
Spotting a bench, he started to lead him over. Neither spoke as Harry helped him. He set him on the bench and Draco looked up at him wearily. He didn't know what to ask, afraid that anything he wanted to say would startle the boy.
"Draco?" he finally asked cautiously.
Draco shut his eyes as if he was too exhausted to keep them open. "I'm missing something here, aren't I?"
Harry froze. "What is the last thing you remember?"
Draco still didn't open his eyes, but contorted his face, thinking.
"I remember...my Dad...and...this flash of gold light, and lots of pain..." Draco opened his gray-silver eyes. "I can't remember anything else."
"Nothing?" Harry blinked.
"Flashes of things."
"Anything about us?"
He held a long breath. Oh please let him remember.
"I..." Draco stopped speaking to concentrate. "I can't remember."
Awful silence as Draco's words sank in.
"Bloody hell, my body feels like it's been stuffed into a cramped space for too long a time."
Harry looked at him, his eyes filling with sadness.
"Here, let's get you home."
"I don't want to go home."
"I meant my home."
Harry watched him, and Draco didn't answer as he rubbed his eyes.
It had just dawned on him that if Draco didn't remember what had happened between them, then he probably wasn't aware that he had died – or had been gone at all for that matter.
"Draco…" He tried to catch Draco's eyes.
Finally the blonde looked up at him, as if he was going to ask why he kept calling him that. Draco's eyes were his own, but there was no feeling behind them, no love to find that used to be there. Harry felt his heart slowly breaking, everything was so painful.
"Do you have any idea how long you've been…gone," Harry asked, choosing to use gone instead of dead incase Draco didn't know.
"Gone? What do you mean?"
--
Draco heard a soft rustling next to him, and something tickling his face. He shrugged it off, and began to sit up as whatever was covering him (he assumed a blanket) started to slide down. Snatching at it to keep warm he yawned and opened his eyes a few times. He felt like he had been asleep forever.
Everything was very out of focus and before him he noticed a very blurry vision of a dark haired boy in glasses that could only be Harry Potter. He immediately felt irked and annoyed, and then a rush of curiosity filled him. Why was Harry in his bedroom? He blinked a few more times as he realized he wasn't in his bedroom at all, but in a cemetery.
"Hey," he heard the boy say in a voice he had only heard his father use on his mother.
Draco ignored him; he was more concerned with how he had gotten naked in a cemetery with Potter. He pulled the cloak around himself, securing it closed. He tried to stand but his legs were unusually wobbly and Harry leapt up quickly to help him.
"Potter?" Draco asked in what he hoped was a in a dark tone. He was confused on why he was helping him.
His mind raced as Harry helped him to a bench.
How had he gotten here? What was going on?
Harry didn't speak as he set him on the bench, and took a seat next to him.
"Draco?" Harry finally asked.
Draco couldn't remember much of anything, feeling like a part of him was missing, something that he couldn't recall. It was the oddest feeling he had ever encountered, not being able to remember something that he should.
Glancing at Harry, his mind tumbled more questions around. He had never had someone look at him the way Harry was right now.
Draco shut his eyes so he wouldn't have to see Potter's face. "I'm missing something here, aren't I?"
"What is the last thing you remember?"
Draco still didn't open his eyes, but thought back, trying harder to remember something. The only thing he could remember was seeing his father and light...it was like a scattered memory, or a fading dream.
Telling Harry what he could remember, he opened his gray-silver eyes. "I can't remember anything else."
Harry looked hurt and lost.
"Nothing?"
Draco thought back racking his brain for something. There were flashes of a Dragon, the castle, and other random images that made no sense.
"Flashes of things."
The last full memory that Draco was recalling was the day he had left on the Hogwarts Express to go to school and find Harry to convince him to play the Dragon Games.
"Anything about us?"
Draco heard Harry take a deep breath in.
"I..." Draco stopped speaking to concentrate. There was nothing at all. "I can't remember."
Silence.
His muscles tightened and he felt a large cramp in his legs as they were starting to become less numb from not moving. Aching everywhere, he felt like had been exercising for a long time or had just lost a Muggle duel.
"Bloody hell, my body feels like it's been stuffed into a cramped space for too long a time."
Harry looked at him, his eyes glazing, and Draco looked away again. The looks Potter was giving him...
"Here, let's get you home."
"I don't want to go home," Draco insisted. He never wanted to see his father again.
"I meant my home."
He frowned and rubbed his eyes. Since when was Harry inviting him to his house? What had happened? And why couldn't he remember?
"Draco…"
He groaned inwardly, Potter had never called him by his first name. Very slowly, he met Harry's emerald eyes.
"Do you have any idea how long you've been gone?"
"Gone? What do you mean?"
"You've been dead for the past seven months."
There was silence. A flash of terror swept over Draco, but really, he wasn't quite sure how he was supposed to take this news.
"Are you okay?"
Looking around his glance went straight to the tombstone they had just walked away from. The one with his name on it. He felt ill, terribly ill. "What do you mean dead?"
"I mean you died attempting to kill Voldemort."
He thought that maybe the words would bring back memories, but it wasn't so. In fact, the harder he tried to recall, his head started to throb and distract him away from his answers.
Had he really tried to kill Voldemort? If that was so, then that meant he had succeeded in winning in the Games, and somehow had befriended Harry in the process. How long had this been?
"What day is it?" Draco asked slowly.
"March 24. Can you tell me exactly what you remember, before you have the flashes of memory?"
He nodded and turned away from his grave. "I remember boarding the Hogwarts Express, and falling asleep because I had been up all night getting things together for the Games."
Pausing for a moment he got lost in thought. Seven months of his life that he would never have, that was a long time. Harry reached out and touched his shoulder, and Draco looked at it in a grimace.
"Excuse me, Potter." He moved Harry's hand away. "I don't know what happened to us, but I don't think I'm comfortable with you touching me."
Harry stared at him.
After a moment Draco asked softly, as almost afraid of the answer, "What did happen between us, exactly?"
Harry was quiet for a moment and then, "We fell in love."
Disbelievingly, he looked at Potter, but the boy just stared back, blank faced, almost pitying. He was horrified. Fall in love with Potter? Was that at all possible? He felt sick and disturbed by the thought.
"You're kidding right?"
Harry didn't answer.
"Bloody hell."
He couldn't have fallen in love with Harry Potter. That was just disgusting! Potter had to be making it up.
Now why would he do something like that?
"Look," Harry's voice was shaky. "Let's get you back to my place and we can discuss more there."
Draco didn't move for a moment. He wasn't particularly fond of the notion, but he needed someone to fill him in, and Potter seemed to be the one to do that.
"Right, Potter." He nodded, standing up and nearly falling.
Harry quickly caught him, but Draco pushed him away.
"I'm quite capable," he hissed.
Harry looked at him unconvinced but nodded.
"I'm going to have to take you there," Harry said.
Which meant that Harry had to grab onto his arm or something...Why was Potter being so damn weird? He can't really have fallen for me...
"Then take me," Draco said, then quickly added, "There."
This was going to be a very disturbing experience.
--
When Harry arrived with Draco at Number 12 Grimmauld Place, he found that Hermione and Ron had left. He let go of Draco's arm immediately after arriving, feeling dumb as he did so.
He didn't want to have to not touch Draco; this wasn't supposed to be like this. What he wanted more than anything was to kiss the boy, pour out his soul to him – but Draco wasn't going to have any of that.
Why can't he remember?
Somehow – if it was possible – he felt worse than he did before.
Maybe he'll remember something when he sees the house.
Opening the front door Draco followed after him, glancing around.
"This is yours?" Draco asked.
"Yeah." He watched him hopefully, but nothing seemed to stir in Draco's mind.
Draco then spotted Harry's pile of luggage.
"Going somewhere?" Draco asked, peering at him.
"Err..." He paused. "No."
"Whatever," Draco dismissed him. "Well, if I'm going to be staying here, where do I sleep? Because I refuse to take the couch."
It seemed like Draco had never even gone away, he was so calm, so collected, so like Draco, but not the Draco who loved him.
"Oh, right, you can have the guest room." He started leading him towards it.
He switched on the lights to the room.
"Great," Draco said. "Do you have any clothes I can have?"
Harry then remembered that Draco was still in his cloak...and nothing else...
"Potter?" Draco hissed.
Harry snapped out of staring at him, and nodded. "Yea, you can borrow some clothes."
Draco moved past him towards the door. Harry stayed for a moment, watching the spot where he had just been. He has to remember soon...
Turning around and following Draco into his room, he was surprised to see him invading his closet.
"Don't you have anything decent?" Draco asked, his voice muffled.
Harry suppressed a small laugh. "Get out of there; I'll get it for you."
Draco made his way back into the room, and Harry ventured into his closet. He pulled out a plain brown shirt, and blue denim jeans, he contemplated bringing him a pair of boxers too, but assumed Draco wouldn't be comfortable with that.
"Here." He handed the boy the clothes.
Draco looked at the clothes in a non appreciative way and then tucked them under his arm.
"I'm going to take a nap." The blonde left the room almost immediately.
Harry watched him leave in silence.
What was going to happen now?
He couldn't help but feel angry, angry at life in particular – hadn't he put up with enough suffering to finally grant him his happiness? Didn't he deserved to be loved, to love someone completely?
Would Draco leave him? He couldn't part with the boy, not again. He was going to help him remember, no matter what it took.
--
Draco lay on his stomach in Harry's guest bed, but he wasn't sleeping, in fact, he was far from it.
He had been forcing himself to stay calm and rational - this was normally fairly easy for him, but this time it wasn't.
He had died, and now he was back. What had happened while he was gone? Why was Potter so miserable yet so happy around him? Where had Potter's scar gone? And what had happened to his father?
Not only was seven months of his life lost, but he also couldn't remember a portion of his life that he had lived.
He didn't feel like he had been dead, it just felt like another day, only he didn't know which day he was in. Was it how Harry brought him back that he couldn't remember? Or was it something else? And how did Harry bring him back to life – why?
Questions filtered in and out of Draco's head. All of them taunting him, because he couldn't receive any answers that made sense.
His mind wandered to his father. Was he was looking for him? Did his family even know he was dead?
He lay there thinking for a long time, till the sun had set and the moon was high in the sky.
A soft weary knock came at the door.
--
Harry opened the door quietly, trying not to wake the boy but then noticed that Draco wasn't asleep at all.
"You're awake." He noticed that Draco was almost curled up and had been lost in though, and immediately the blonde was putting himself into a less vulnerable position.
"So I am," Draco drawled as he sat up. "What do you want?"
He sighed, fazed by Draco's bitterness. "I wanted to know if you needed anything."
"No. I'm smashing. So smashing that I think I'll just go home."
"You can't," he said quickly.
Draco was supposed to be dead, and Narcissa had probably found out how he had died - the way she definitely wouldn't approve of.
"Who do you think you are, Potter?" Draco glared.
"Your family will turn you over to Voldemort."
"I thought you said I destroyed Voldemort," Draco's voice faltered.
"We have a lot to talk about."
Draco raised an eyebrow and held his gaze for a moment. "Well, talk then."
"Where do you want me to start? Before or after...your death?"
"After."
Harry nodded and pulled up a chair next to the bed, wanting to know what Draco was thinking, but the boys face was blank again.
"Well, err..." Harry started, unsure where to begin. "Everything was quiet up until two days ago – and then there was an attack on a Muggle and magical neighborhood, the Death Eaters were making threats that Voldemort was still alive. I got a visit from Aiyana, she's the new Minister of Magic, and she told me that he never even died."
"Is that why you brought me back? To help you destroy Voldemort again?" Draco growled.
"No," he whispered. That wasn't the reason at all – he hadn't even thought about Voldemort once since Ron and Hermione had given him the spell.
Draco turned away from him and stared at a wall, lost in thought again.
Harry stayed quiet for a moment wondering if Draco had any idea what he meant to him.
"What happened before?" Draco asked, slowly turning back to him.
"Well, you convinced me to play the Dragon Games with you," he started.
"Why can't I remember any of this?"
"I have no idea," Harry whispered.
"How did you bring me back?"
"Ron and Hermione played The Dragon Games, to get you back for me."
"Why the hell would they do that?"
"Because they care about me."
Draco, aggravated, tossed his hands through his hair and then stood up.
"I'm going home," Draco said, folding his arms across his chest as if daring Harry to refuse to let him.
Harry stared at him taken aback. He had forgotten how much Draco had hated him before.
"I don't have to fucking listen to you, Potter."
"Yes, you do," Harry said, trying to seem more commanding than he felt. "People will kill you, Draco."
"What do you care? And stop calling me that!" Draco's pale face was almost red in anger.
"I care, alright! Just trust me."
"I'm not going to trust you. Not when you're trying to play this sick mind game on me!"
"Game? Come off it, why the hell would I make any of this up?"
I can't let him leave, I need him.
"I dunno, maybe to make me think I've gone mental!" Draco sneered. "Move out of the way."
He stood his ground in the doorway.
"Draco, please think about this. If you really died trying to kill Voldemort, how much do you want to bet no one in the Death Eater circle is going to welcome you back with open arms?"
The blonde glared, but kept silent. Harry saw his eyes drop in defeat.
"Piss off then," Draco hissed. "I'll stay for now, but leave me the hell alone."
Jabs of internal pain struck through him, and Harry felt himself breaking down again. Before he could look weak in front of Draco, he stormed off out of the room, slamming the door behind himself, and shutting himself into his own room.
--
The next morning Harry awoke to the muffled sounds of talking out in his living room. He frowned, and pulled on his glasses.
Entering the living room he found Draco sitting with Aiyana.
"Good morning Harry," Aiyana said in greeting.
Draco turned to look at him. "About time you woke up."
Harry looked between the two in silence for a moment, and then sat down. "What's going on?"
"We were discussing Mr. Malfoy's return from the dead," Aiyana said softly. "So, Mr. Weasley and Miss Granger won the Dragon Games to bring him back?"
"Yes." He nodded not looking her in the eye.
"Well, I must say I was quite surprised to see him alive." She gave him a warm smile.
"I'm sure," Draco growled. "Can we just figure out how we can get my memory back?"
"Yes, back to that. Harry, I will need to know the details of the spell, so I can have Severus or Rosaria to look it over with me."
"Okay." Harry nodded eagerly. "How long do you think it will take?"
"I don't know, Harry, but we have other matters to discuss as well."
"Like Voldemort?"
"Yes, Harry." Aiyana looked between them. "I know both of you have gone through a terrible ordeal in the passed couple of months, but we need everyone's full cooperation in this if we are going to destroy him for good."
"Why can't you leave us out of it?" Harry muttered under his breath.
Draco's eyes turned to him with concealed surprise, then quickly back to Aiyana as Harry looked at him. Draco didn't know anymore how much Harry didn't want to be 'the hero'.
Aiyana sighed gravely. "You will get your well deserved break someday, Harry. But we need you to help us in this."
He didn't say anything.
"I will leave you two for a while, but when I come back, I need you to be ready for anything," Aiyana said, her voice commanding yet soft.
"Right," Draco answered for both of them.
"Now, explain to me this spell."
So Harry explained to her everything that happened, and Draco watched him in wonder as he did so.
"Very well." Aiyana stood when Harry had finished. "Things will turn out for the better, Harry. You will see." Then she Apparated.
"Do you have any breakfast food?" Draco asked, standing up and heading into the kitchen.
Harry watched him go but didn't answer. His mind was too preoccupied with thoughts of the spell...Was this the warning the Dragon had given them?
The rest of the afternoon Harry went out looking for Daily Prophets from the past few months for Draco at his request. He pulled up quite a few, and Draco took them to his room and didn't appear for the rest of the night.
Harry awoke the next day fairly late, but when he checked in on Draco the boy was still asleep with Daily Prophets scattered out all around him.
He left his room, and went into the dining room. A knock came at his front door, and he opened it to find Ron and Hermione.
"Harry," Ron greeted, entering with Hermione.
"Did it work?" She peered around.
The two watched him carefully.
"He's asleep in the guest room," he said slowly. "He...He doesn't remember anything about last year."
His two best friends look horrified.
"He hates me," Harry whispered in a shaking voice.
Ron put a hand on his shoulder.
"I'm sorry, mate."
"Why doesn't he remember?" Hermione asked, eyes full of sorrow for him.
"I dunno. Aiyana is trying to figure out how to bring his memory back. He's been catching up to everything all of yesterday."
"Are you okay, Harry?" she asked.
He didn't answer for a moment. "I dunno."
"Don't worry," Ron said. "He'll get his memory back, he has to."
Harry nodded, not sure if he believed it.
"Is Aiyana mad at us? For helping you get Draco back?" She watched him carefully.
"I dunno, she didn't say." He sighed. "She just wanted to talk about plans for Voldemort."
Hermione and Ron nodded.
"Voldemorts back," Harry said agitated. "I just don't understand it. Why now? Why at all! Draco killed him!"
"I know, Harry," Ron agreed. "But we'll handle it, we always do."
He nodded, but didn't answer. This was exactly what he had been running from. The only reason he wasn't running now was because of Draco – but he still felt like he needed to disappear, because nothing was any better.
--
Draco heard Weasley's and Granger's voices out in the living room. They must have been here to check up on how the spell went.
He rolled over and groaned, he had a headache that wouldn't go away, and he certainly didn't want to deal with the Mudblood or Weasel.
He reached down off his bed and pulled up a Daily Prophet, which turned out to be as boring as half the rest. He tossed it back down and put a hand to his head, and for the first time, his mind wandered to his wand...He didn't have it.
"Ugh," he groaned.
He wanted to make the headache go away.
He heard Harry say his name from outside the door, and he groaned louder. It was too weird to think that Potter was ever his friend, let alone anything else.
Sitting on his bed he waited for Hermione and Ron to leave. But they didn't go, and when a few hours passed he started to get very hungry. Finally he gave up and went into the living room.
The three stopped talked as he entered and he felt like the spotlight was on him.
"Morning." Harry said, his eyes not leaving him.
He grunted in response and ignored the other two as he headed into the kitchen.
"He's a git, Harry, don't worry about it," Ron's voice tried to be reassuring.
"Oh, Ron," Hermione said, baffled at his ignorance. "Can't you see that this is really getting to him?"
"It's okay, Hermione. He's been doing that since he's been back."
Draco shut his eyes and tried to tune them out as he busied himself with breakfast. He made eggs and toast, and as he was putting things away, Weasley stumbled in.
"Malfoy," Ron said with a tone of hatred. "You might want to try cooling down your hot head for once and realize that you're hurting someone."
"Oh shut up, Weasley," Draco hissed. "In case you haven't noticed, I don't care."
He took his plate and left the room, feeling a tiny bit guilty as he did so. They clearly did have a relationship before this, but Draco just couldn't understand it.
--
Ron and Hermione finally left late that afternoon and Draco hadn't come back out to talk to them since. But the moment they were out of the house, he appeared back in his kitchen, looking for dinner.
Harry joined him, hunting though his fridge for some milk.
"Any word from Aiyana?" Draco asked.
Harry closed the fridge and looked at him. "None so far."
"Right," Draco said, clearly disappointed.
He sighed, and watched Draco silently as he made himself a ham sandwich. Draco suddenly turned around.
"Potter, your owl is attacking your window! And you're making a mess!" Draco frowned for a moment and then quickly left the kitchen.
Harry snapped out of his daze, now hearing the tap tap on his window, and seeing that he was overfilling a glass of milk. He stopped pouring and waved his wand, quickly cleaning up the mess. He opened the window for Hedwig who swooped in, landed on the counter and stuck out her leg. Harry quickly untied the letter; it was from the realtor of The Runic House.
Harry held his breath and opened the letter.
Dear Mr. Potter,
I'm pleased to inform you that your offer was accepted. You can move into the house as soon as you come in and fill out a few additional paperwork in my office.
Thank you,
Crystal Anderson
Harry stared at the letter for a moment, and then folded it up. He went into the dining room with his milk, and found Draco sitting at the dining table.
"I bought a house," Harry said. "I got it."
Draco looked at him for a moment, confused. "What are you talking about, Potter?"
"I got the house." For some reason he was surprised by the concept.
"That's fascinating," Draco said sarcastically and then stood up to leave the table. "Do you have any of that-"
Draco stop talking mid sentence, and just as Harry looked up at him, Draco collapsed to the ground.
Oh God!
Harry rushed over to him.
"Draco?" He tried to wake the boy. He checked his pulse, and his heart was still beating. "Draco, get up, come on!"
--
Draco felt weightless, like he was suspended in air, but he looked down to see that his feet were firmly planted on the ground. He was wearing deep emerald robes, heavy, with silver cords hanging down; he had never worn something so magnificent.
He looked out, and found that he was in a castle – dark stone walls and floors, torches along the wall, giant double wood doors, but unlike most castles he had been in, this one was completely spotless.
He was frantic and confused, just moments before he had been standing in Potter's dinning room, so where was he now? And how had he gotten here?
Ahead of him walked four figures, all speaking in Latin, which somehow Draco understood completely even though he only spoke a little.
"Who is up for a little broom racing?" a figure who Draco oddly recognized asked. The figure had black smooth hair, but not greasy likes Snape's, he had piercing forest green eyes, a sculpted face, and had on a set of black robes with green tassels.
"Not today," another figure said. This figure was also male, with long royal red robes and gold tassels. He had dark orange hair, bedroom brown eyes, and boyish face.
Draco felt he knew these people from somewhere, but he couldn't place his finger on it.
"You always spoil the fun, Godric," the first figure spoke. "How about you ladies? Rowena? Helga?"
The names shot through Draco like bolts down his spine. Helga? Godric? Rowena? These were the founders, and the first figure must be Salazar.
"I am very well with my feet on the ground, thank you," Rowena answered – or Draco assumed it was her from her robes, which were deep blue with purple tassels. She had short black curly hair, pale gray eyes, very pretty with a warm friendly face.
"You know I do not race," Helga said. She was in golden robes and black tassels, her long blonde hair flowing down to the middle of her back. She looked confident and had charming cool-blue eyes.
""How about you, Draco?" Salazar asked.
At this point they were pretty far away from him, but he could somehow still hear them clearly.
He didn't understand what was going on, so he didn't say anything.
"Draco?" Salazar turned around and saw him standing back where they had started. The other three turned around as well.
"You okay, mate?" Godric asked.
"No," Draco said, shaking his head. "What is going on? Where am I?"
The four looked at each other and Rowena frowned.
"What do you mean, Draco?"
Is this a dream? he wondered. It didn't feel very dream like, but it didn't feel very real either. He decided to test it, and he pinched his arm, and to his surprise he felt no pain at all.
"What are you doing?" Salazar asked, seemingly concerned.
The three of them were walking back towards him.
"I am trying to wake up!" Draco said panic-stricken. Why aren't I waking up? He pinched himself again and again.
"You can not wake up, you are dead, sweetie," Helga said, staring at him wide-eyed.
"Dead?" Draco croaked. "No, Potter brought me back! I am not dead!"
The four founders stared at him, worried and confused. Then they spotted something behind him that made them look as worried as Draco.
"What is that?" Godric asked.
Draco turned around and came face-to-face with a clear pool of water, but as he looked in deeper, he realized it wasn't clear at all and images were starting to form on the surface. He watched the water closely as something came into focus: Harry was kneeling next to...him, in the dining room where he had just been a few moments ago. Harry was trying to wake him up, and he indeed looked like he was dead.