What Else Can We Do?

Part 2:

The Dream Walker

Chapter 14:

'Had I the heavens' embroidered cloths,

Enwrought with golden and silver light,

The blue and the dim and the dark cloths

Of night and light and the half light,

I would spread the cloths under your feet:

But I, being poor, have only my dreams;

I have spread my dreams under your feet;

Tread softly because you tread on my dreams.'

~'He Wishes for the Cloths of Heaven' by W.B. Yeats

2000

He slid into the armchair and propped his legs up on the foot rest. With one hand, he grabbed the book on the window sill, along with the curling piece of parchment on top of it. With the other, he picked up his cup of tea. Draco took a distracted sip, quill poised and ready.

The blank page stared back at him.

He sighed. The sound of the rain falling outside made him glance up and watch the droplets sliding down the glass instead. Out of everything he could've felt, he hadn't imagined being wistful in a moment like this. Not when the direction of his thoughts had gone down a darker path than he liked.

He shook his head and began to write.

I could never be what my father wanted, but that didn't stop him from trying.

My father had no way of knowing that Albus had added shades of grey to the black and white world he had fashioned for me. The irony was that I saw more of reality in the Dreaming than I did through my father's teachings. It made me realise that there was one view of the world my father wanted me to see and it could only be seen through his eyes.

From the moment I stepped off the train at the end of my first year at Hogwarts, my father started telling me tantalising tales of the Chamber of Secrets, Salazar Slytherin's hidden room in the depths of Hogwarts. No one but the Heir of Slytherin could open it and when he came again, Hogwarts would be cleansed of dirty blood.

My reaction took me by surprise. It was hard to hide the horror I felt. Somewhere along the way, those convictions my father tried to instil in me started to ring hollow. If I ever believed them, it was because my father did at a time when I thought him infallible. They'd never truly been mine and I didn't like what they did to my father. He told the stories with such relish. In these moments, my stoic father was gone, replaced by an impassioned man I didn't recognise.

I was scared of that man.

I could no longer see the logic of blood purity, but it was a mantra I had to repeat for his and my sake. I went through the motions, spoke the words, and agreed whenever pressed, knowing that if I did otherwise I would face punishment.

But even if I had been braver, had spoken up and said what I really thought, there was no changing my mind after Albus.

Still it was a period in my life I don't like to think about, a time of second-guessing and wondering who to believe. Behind the wariness, at the centre of my doubt, there was an unshakable fact: no-one could make me hate Albus for what he was. In my father's eyes, the boy was lower than even a 'mudblood', as he insisted on calling them, but he didn't know what I did.

Human or not, Albus was the kindest soul I had ever met.

He was wrong about many things but he was still my father and I loved him. I tried to be what he wanted – the leader of Slytherin as he was, but I couldn't find it in my heart to do it in the end. Not when Albus would stare at me with that inscrutable look of his before asking why and having to face his disappointment when he learned it was not enough of a reason. Albus doesn't understand the desire for power, or the nature of the reputation of the Malfoy family I was expected to maintain. An ideal could never be more important than a person to him. Perhaps that is why I find myself picking up the pieces of his heart off the floor now.

When my Second Year began, I became a loner who studied and dreamed more than I spoke (with my actual mouth, that is). It was natural the way we drifted apart and I hurt no-one when I stopped associating with those 'friends' I'd made the year before. Pansy had gotten bored with my newfound quiet. Crabbe and Goyle found they preferred the company of Blaise. Other Slytherins took up the mantle of harassing Potter. I didn't care – Albus meant more to me than any of them.

Even the promise of a new broom from father couldn't entice me into joining the Quidditch team. Learning Occlumency and Legilimency with Brand, Light and Red as a way of harnessing my dream walking abilities was much more interesting. I turned inward, preferring the person I could be with them, with Albus.

But most of all, I was a friend there of a kind I wished I had out of dreams.

The loneliness of my waking hours made the school library a refuge. I read anything I could get my hands on concerning dreams. My father would've flown into a rage had he known of the muggle texts I resorted to in the pursuit of knowledge, a fact that delighted me in a small vicious way. As a child, I was too fearful to be rebellious and it was these little victories that kept me going when his letters became colder and colder.

The first thing I learnt was that my questions never had one answer. Questions were like a hydra – you could chop off a head and two more would take its place. Second, no one was certain what dreams were, not entirely.

Not even Albus and his parents. And what they did know, they couldn't explain in terms I would understand.

It was a fact that haunted me when I thought my gift had some purpose in the greater scheme of things. I needed it to have a purpose. Learning Occlumency lends itself to acquiring self-control and a particular self-awareness, but it didn't disperse the lies - and the delusions created by those lies - one tells oneself when one feels lost.

And, on top of it all, I was angry.

xXx

1992

There was no graceful way to fall down a sand dune, but Draco tried his best.

It didn't take long for him to realise that he didn't have a choice in the matter, not when he was rolling uncontrollably, sand flying everywhere, spluttering and swearing on his trip downhill. His one consolation was that he'd fallen into the shadow of the dune, away from the sun at last. Well, that and the fact that Albus was just as undignified as he flew past Draco in a flurry of sand, limbs and surprise. When the boy stopped tumbling, he landed on his back with a thud and a gasp. He began to laugh, wildly, breathlessly, more so when he noticed Draco frowning down at him in consternation, a picture of sandy frustration.

Once he caught his breath again, Albus pushed himself up and said with a grin, 'Well, that was fun.'

'No, it wasn't,' Draco muttered as he tried rustle the sand out of his hair.

Albus watched him for a moment, then rolled his eyes. 'Come on!'

They fought their way out of the sand and ran, set on making it to the murky green waters of the oasis before them, that hazy jewel they'd seen glittering on the horizon at the beginning of the dream. Barefoot, with trousers rolled up to their knees, the two boys splashed about in the shallower water with loud sighs of relief, tender feet and giddy smiles.

They looked up when they heard a sound in the distance, a heavy muffled impact that made the top layer of sand beyond the water bounce. At the centre of the dream, far from here, they'd seen two giants at each other's throats, exchanging fists and boulders. The dreamer seemed only capable of just missing being squashed and screaming. It made for a morbidly fascinating spectacle. But not one they favoured over exploring.

It was then when the silence dragged on, as they sat on the bank side by side, their feet in the water, sand between their toes, that Albus spoke.

'What's got you looking like that?'

'Like what?'

'All . . .' Albus petered off. He gestured at Draco's face as if that would help. 'I can't find the right word for it. Oh, I know! You look like this.' Albus frowned, pursed his lips, hunched his shoulders and clenched in his fists in an exaggerated fashion that wasn't flattering in the least.

Draco's frown deepened. 'It's nothing.'

''Nothing' must be terribly frustrating then,' Albus replied with an odd smile that was a mixture of worried and playful. It had an annoying way of making Draco feel guilty, of all things.

'You always become so pompous when you're making fun of me.'

'Well - ' he drew out the word with a cheeky grin and ended off lightly, 'I learnt from the best.'

Draco couldn't help snorting at that. But his amusement didn't last. 'I don't want to talk about it.'

'Of course you don't. But you should.'

He gave him his friend a sidelong glance. 'Is that so?'

'Yup,' Albus said happily.

'Why?'

Albus shifted and settled into a more comfortable position, sinking his feet further into the shore. 'Because, Draco,' he replied, 'there are two types of people in the world: those that explode or implode when they're angry. And much to my surprise, you implode.'

Draco leaned forward, hugged his knees and rested one of his cheeks on them. 'And what's wrong with that?'

'Not much,' Albus said quietly, thoughtfully. 'It's a way of coping. But you must watch it. If you let your anger sit and stew, it'll poison you on the inside. So please stop stewing and tell me what's the matter. It'll do you some good, I'm sure of it.'

Draco thought of holding back, of retorting snootily with an 'oh, really?', but it was just a knee-jerk reaction. He was too tired to deal with what that would bring. Albus could sometimes be like a shark sensing blood in the water.

He already felt as if he'd been stripped to a single thread, pulled taut, ready to snap. And when Albus looked at him with the full force of his concern, no words or smiles to hide it this time, it did.

'Fine,' Draco bit out, the anger welling up with that single word. 'Ever since that excuse of a cat Filch has got petrified, Potter and his gang have been following me. They think themselves so clever. So certain I haven't noticed them. But I have. The idiots think I'm the Heir of Slytherin. What nonsense.'

'Draco - '

But he ignored Albus, becoming more incensed by the second. 'What right do they have to poke their noses into my business? It's like they don't understand the meaning of privacy . . . I mean, I caught Granger looking into a pile of books I returned. She even had the audacity to take out a few of them right after me as if I wouldn't notice.'

Albus reached over and tried to put a hand on Draco's shoulder, but it was shrugged off impatiently.

'I've had housemates come up and warn me about Potter snooping around, asking questions he shouldn't. Like whether I'd changed since last year, or why I don't have friends anymore. It's as if he wants a spotlight on me. Probably wants to shift the heat onto someone else. But the little turd hasn't a subtle bone in his body, I can tell you that. So no, it can't be that . . .' He shook his head with a noisy, angry huff. 'And guess what? People are starting to believe his suspicions! Of all the - ' He hit the side of his leg with a fist, hating how his voice nearly broke at the end.

'Fear does funny things to people, Draco.'

He stared at the boy blank-faced. 'What?'

With that, Albus stood up, brushed his hands against his trousers and offered one to Draco. 'Come, I want to show you something,' he said.

'I - '

'Just shut it for a moment, will you?'

Draco glared at him, then nodded. He took Albus' hand, reluctance evident in every movement as he was helped to his feet. The boy reached out and began to draw a shape in the air with a hand. A door appeared before, simmering into existence as he made it. He grabbed Draco's hand again and held it tight. He opened the door and led him through it into the chaos of someone else's dream.

They slipped into a darkness so complete that Draco felt bodiless, weightless, all senses. When the roar of silence became too much, the whispers began. They were more hiss than anything else, but there were words amongst it all, words he did not like.

Hunger. Kill. Tear. Rip. Hunger, hungerhungerhunger -

There was a long drawn out roar in the distance that rushed towards them. Out of the darkness, a figure glowed red, stumbling, screaming, burning. A hand with skin like embers grabbed at Draco, then crumbled to ash. A man with two faces let out an anguished howl and fell into a crumpled heap, whimpering, pleading, disappearing. He fell to dust.

Draco instinctively reached out but something stopped him. He stood frozen, the shock making him breathless. The dread was nauseating. Horror filled him to the brim: I did it. I killed him. The whispers were louder, indistinct, insistent, scrambling to be heard. There was a green flash and then a woman's scream. She was calling out a name, a name he knew, begging for her child to be spared.

It can't be, he thought. Draco wanted to run, but Albus gripped his hand tighter.

'This . . . this is Potter's nightmare?' Draco dared to ask, not wanting an answer, not really.

'Yes.'

Albus was glowing like he did the first time they met, trickling trails of light like water running down his face until it covered him whole. The boy lifted his arms and lowered them in an arc, ending with a flick of his hands, like a composer silencing an orchestra. There was light and quiet as the nightmare slowed to a standstill. Draco shielded his eyes with a hand and saw Potter in the distance, small and far, his back to them, watching the dawn. He wouldn't question them being here since he was dreaming. Stranger things happened in dreams than seeing Draco Malfoy there with a glowing child at his side.

Albus was staring at Potter, wearing a frown more sad than discerning. 'That nightmare was made up of his memories. You can tell the difference by the quality of the emotions. The body is experiencing the event over again.'

He knew he should say something, but the words wouldn't come. He didn't want this. He wanted to stay angry. He wanted to relish in the feeling of righteousness that came with it. Not this. Not feel pity, even sympathy. Potter didn't deserve that.

He felt something touch his cheek, then a hand he couldn't see cup his jaw gently. He glanced at Albus and knew he felt it too by the distant smile he wore. They heard a voice then as close as a whisper, gentle but commanding.

'Leave the child be. Let him dream in peace,' Light said.

He felt himself being lifted and set down again, the dawn of Potter's dream receding, fading to mist then nothing. A warm firelight glow replaced it, telling Draco all he needed to know. They were in the dark place again, the safe haven Albus' parents had built for him in the Dreaming.

Light was by the fire and through the flames, Draco saw she was reading a book. King was on her lap, giving them an unblinking stare, tail twitching as it flicked left and right and back again. Light looked up at them as they made their way closer to the fire. Draco wasn't sure if they had done anything wrong, but it did feel like it. He had never purposely chosen the dream of someone he knew. As he predicted, it didn't sit well with him. He'd always wondered if there were lines he would not cross and this was it. This was definitely it.

Light closed her book. 'Albus, you know where you are not allowed.'

'I'm sorry, Momma. But it was important.'

'I'll be the judge of that,' she replied evenly. She sounded so distant, unlike herself. For an excruciating moment Draco knew that he didn't want to see this. He couldn't stand it. He was on the outskirts again, in the wrong place, not quite unwelcome but close. He had to do something.

'Albus didn't mean harm by it,' Draco burst out in a rush. 'He only wanted to help.'

Light gave Draco a dismissive nod, before turning to her son again, expression intent, waiting. Far away and on the edge of disappointment.

'Momma,' Albus began with a pleading tone, 'he doesn't understand what fear does to people. I was trying to show him. To put him in Potter's shoes.'

'There are other ways to learn to sympathise with one's enemies.'

'But that's it!' the boy replied with certain, shining eyes. 'They aren't enemies, Mama. They never have been.'

Draco snorted. 'Potter? My enemy? What poppycock. That idiot is too far beneath me to have that honour.'

Albus turned to him, frowning. He gave an exasperated shake of his head that immediately got Draco's hackles up. Light simply watched them.

'Then I'll spell it out for you,' Albus said. 'What if you wanted to stop something terrible from happening? What if you believed that the only person who could stop it was you? What would you do if you thought everyone you know and love could easily be taken away from you? What if I was the one in that hospital, petrified? Wouldn't you do anything to stop it? To fix me?'

Draco wanted to answer everything at once. I don't know. That's stupid. I'd call father. I'd go mad. Yesyes. But he held himself together, bit his tongue. 'Of course I would,' he replied instead. 'But that doesn't change the fact that Potter and gang still have no right to pin this on me.'

'No, they don't. But have you ever given them reason to think otherwise, especially after how you behaved last year?'

'No'. It felt like the word was taken from him with pliers.

'Then while you don't have to forgive them, they deserve your understanding. You saw his nightmare. Can't you see some reason for what he's done?'

'I don't care that he's suffered. Everyone has. He's not special in that regard. He has no business poking his nose into my life. None at all. And I won't let it go.'

'As is your right.'

Albus' sullen tone made him want to shove him, shake him, make him understand. He rolled his hands into fists instead. 'You obviously have more to say. What is it?'

'It's nothing.'

'Don't be petty, Albus.'

And there was that inscrutable look he hated. The fact that he was being looked at that way made him tremble, though with shame or anger, he didn't know.

'Why must I be the bigger person all of a sudden?' Albus asked.

'Because you asked! Because you're my friend.'

'Draco . . . '

He would've laughed because Albus had never been at a loss for words in all the time he'd known him. But Draco had finally opened up and it hadn't helped, even though Albus said it would. It just felt as if something had broken in him. But it was all on the table now. It couldn't be taken back. He could feel tears and a wave of tiredness coming. 'I wasn't going to say anything. But you just had to butt in, didn't you?' Draco snapped.

He looked to Light and felt the sick, heavy feeling of embarrassment settle in his stomach. Why did she have to see him like this? It was unfair. It was all unfair. They would think less of him for this. Father certainly would never stand for this kind of behaviour. Draco knew he was a disgrace, but he was tired of hiding behind a sneer, a cold look when it was still all there, seething beneath the surface.

'Why can't I have friends like Potter does when I'm awake?' he all but yelled, surprising himself.

'Draco, you know I can't -' Albus tried.

'I know! I know,' Draco cut in, willing himself to calm down but not getting close. 'But I still want what they have. I can't stop wanting. You don't know what it's like there, the quiet you get used to when no one talks to you all day. I find myself wishing I won't wake up every time you say goodnight. I'd be mad without you, Al. I really would. But you're not there. You can't be with me in the Waking. And I miss you.' He started crying and he hated, hated it. 'Every time I ask for you to be at my side, they are there instead. Watching, whispering, thinking the worst of me. I don't know what to do . . . I-' He took in a deep, shuddering breath. 'I feel so alone. And I hate myself for wanting to be like them just so it would stop.'

Albus reached up, grabbed his chin and made Draco look at him. 'Never, never wish to be someone other than yourself. You are the best human I know.'

It was ridiculous enough to get a weak smile out of Draco. He wanted to reply with the usual 'I'm the only human you know, you twit' but he found himself asking instead in a small voice: 'Then why can't they see that too?'

'People see what they want to see, Draco.'

Draco started at those words, at how softly and wearily they were said. He saw the moment Light came to a decision, the way her shoulders rose and settled. She gave him a measured stare and whatever she saw seemed to be enough.

'I'm going to be honest with you because I think that's what you need, Draco,' she said, staring at the flickering flames. 'But that means I can't always be kind. No one but you can fix this. It won't be easy. Part of growing up is realising that you can't force change on some things. The next step is figuring out that you have the power to choose who you become and that no one can take that from you.'

'Why do I have to change?' Draco asked, indignant. 'My father said that - ' He stopped and stared blankly at the ground, hearing himself for the first time. Why had he jumped to his father immediately? When had that statement become a crutch? Had it always been one?

'Change is inevitable. You are not exempt from that,' Light replied. 'I want to help you, so you'll know who you are even when others try their damnedest to convince you otherwise. They cannot make you into something you're not. Don't give them that power.'

'I want to help too,' Albus added in hurriedly.

Light smiled and ruffled the boy's hair. 'And so you should. Because that's what friends do for one another.' Albus settled down, hands in his lap, appeased.

Draco stared at his hands, deep in thought. He rolled them into fists and looked up. 'So what do you think I should do?' he asked.

'Be a good person.'

'And what does that mean?' Draco asked, voice serrated with frustration.

'It can mean what you want it to.'

Light gave him a steady look, patient and still. She simply stroked King's back. He had to look away, had to shake his head from side to side to clear his head, to dismiss the weight of his frown. Albus leaned forward, hands clutching at his knees, intent. 'What does 'being good' mean to you?' the boy asked.

'Being kind,' Draco answered after a moment's consideration. Light gave him a surprised smile and he had to wonder at it being so. Did they really think so little of him?

'What about doing the right thing?' Albus went on to press.

'Yeah, that too,' Draco replied with a slightly affronted look that clearly said 'of course'.

'And what's a right thing to do?' Light asked.

His reply was immediate. 'Putting family first.'

'Good,' Light said with some satisfaction. Draco almost blushed at the smile she gave him. 'How about being fair to yourself and others as well?'

Draco nodded.

'What about being honest?' Albus added with a cheeky grin. Draco made a face, but nodded again anyway.

'Being responsible?'

'I suppose . . .' Draco trailed off reluctantly, making Light laugh.

They lapsed into silence after that. The wood crackled and popped as the tongues of flames danced, beating back the dark. Light gave Draco a searching look before she spoke, 'So a good man to you is kind, honest, fair and responsible. Do you think you can do it?' King jumped off Light's lap and began to lick her paw.

Draco couldn't quite meet her stare. 'That's a lot to be,' he said quietly.

Light smiled at him. 'It will take time,' she said. 'But I know you'll get there.'

xXx

I knew more love and guidance in that moment than I had in years and I remember my heart aching because of it.