Dreams and Snow Angels

When Draco Malfoy first arrived in the land of sand and sun he thought he had arrived at his fated destination - hell. There was no other word for it. The sand was everywhere. There was no escape from it. The sun, at least, went down at night, but the sand was always there. Draco could feel the grit of it in his mouth, his hair, his pores. He began to dream that it ran through his blood - his pure, pure blood. It contaminated it, diseased it, would bring him to his knees as only the Dark Lord had been able to do previously.

Draco woke one morning in his small flat in a cold sweat, having dreamed again, this time not of sand in his blood, but of that night. The night in June that had changed everything for him. That night that he had been forced to see himself not as he wanted to be, but as he truly was. Before he had doubted, he had feared, he had cried, but he always held just enough belief to keep going. That night had taken that belief from him. Ripped it from his soul.

"And it's been replaced with sand," he muttered as he rose from bed. He washed his face, sure that he could feel sand in the water, even though there wasn't any. He stared into the bowl, the water was clear, but he could feel the scratchy gravel as he dipped his hand into the bowl. Perhaps he was going mad. He glanced up at the small, cracked mirror that hung on the wall. As he stared at his face, not nearly as pale as it had once been, he wondered if madness would be the best thing. If that would make the rest of his days easier to bear - the isolation, the fear, the simple not knowing -- the constant impulse to look over his shoulder, under his bed, in the closet, at that ordinary looking woman in the marketplace buying bread - would madness take that away from him - or would it only make it worse?

He smiled dryly at his reflection in the mirror. "There is no escape," he said to his visage.

~*~

Later, as he sat in an outdoor café drinking strong, thick coffee, he mused that it was probably time to move on. He feared leaving though, for he had accepted that the sand was his blood, and without the sand he would be nothing but an empty shell. He took another sip of his coffee and considered the path his thoughts were travelling on.

He shook his head as if that would clear the madness from his thoughts and looked out over the tables. It was not a busy time of the day and only one other table was occupied. Draco saw a thin tendril of long blonde hair blowing airily from under a deep black head scarf. Blonde hair was not common in this foreign place, but it was the eyes that gave Draco pause. He knew the eyes that had now locked onto his. He knew the whimsical smile that was forming onto the face of the girl. He rose from the table, quickly, but not too quickly, wondering if he should risk Apparition.

The girl was already on her feet, still smiling. Draco reached into his robes and grasped the smooth wood of his wand. He did not remove it, even as she closed the short distance between them.

"Hello," she said.

He said nothing, only stared, wondering why they would have sent her. If she had come for him, and why else would she be here? Anything else would have been too much of coincidence to be believable. He believed he was quite insulted.

"Luna Lovegood," she said finally, when he did not answer. "We were at Hogwarts together."

"I know who you are," he said, his voice sounding hoarse and unused. He scanned the area, wondering if she were alone or if others had come as well.

"Oh, good, because otherwise it might have been awkward," she said, beaming. She pulled up a chair at his table and sat down.

Draco stood, staring at her in her disbelief. Might have been awkward? I haven't seen anyone from Hogwarts since I let Death Eaters into the castle. That settles it. I'm not mad, but Loony Lovegood remains so. Finding that thought comfortable and cosy, he embraced it and sat back down. If this was to be the end of his journey, he might as well finish his coffee before being arrested. "Are you an Auror?"

This brought forth bubbly giggles from Luna.

Draco had to admit that was almost as unlikely as him being an Auror, so he smiled crookedly and changed his question, "Why are you here?"

Luna gave him a befuddled look. "Because you're here, Draco Malfoy. Why are you here?"

"For sun and sand," he answered automatically. "And to escape justice." He searched her face for a reaction, but she just continued to smile whimsically. "Who sent you?"

"I sent myself."

Draco furrowed his brow. "Why?"

"I dreamed it."

"You dreamed it? You dreamed finding me here?"

She nodded, still smiling. "Dreams are important, Draco. What do you dream?"

"I dream...." He stopped himself. "The Ministry didn't send you?"

She shook her head. "No, Professor Snape told them you were dead. Killed by Fenrir."

"Oh. And Professor Snape?"

"Dead. He was killed by Voldemort."

Draco flinched at the name. "Oh. I'm sorry."

"Not very many others were," Luna noted. "Not even when they found out Professor Snape wasn't nearly as evil as they had hoped."

"My mother? Is she..."

"She's alive and so is your father. They think you're dead too."

"It's better that way," Draco said.

"Better for you, not better for them. Easier for you," she said in a light-hearted tone that held no accusation in it.

He gave her a withering glare, but she was nonplussed. Frowning, he asked, "How did you figure out I wasn't dead?"

"I dreamed of you. I dreamed your blood was sand. It was pouring out of your wrists. It buried you alive."

Draco's eyes widened, almost as unsettled by her conversational tone as by her having shared his dreams. He leaned across the table, his heart racing, his hands suddenly clammy. "How do I stop it from happening?"

Luna's smile changed from whimsical to sad. She put her hands on top of Draco's. "Dream a different dream."

"Dream a different dream?" he asked incredulously, but his displeasure at her answer was lost on Luna.

She stood and smiled whimsically again. "Yes," she said and then she turned and walked away.

~*~

Luna Lovegood loved snow. She loved the crunch of it beneath her feet, she loved flopping down into it and making snow angels, she loved the way each snowflake was unique, and she loved holding a handful of snow against her cheek and feeling it melt against her warm skin.

At the present, she was trudging through two feet of it. She had Apparated as close to her target as possible, but had been walking for thirty minutes, at least. That had been after she had made a few snow angels. Even with her warming charms, she was starting to feel the chill. She stopped and took a deep breath and spotted a small cabin in the distance. Whirls of smoke were snaking out of the chimney. Luna quickened her pace and was soon knocking on the heavy wood door of the cabin.

The occupant of the cabin took his time answering the door. When he did finally open it, he only opened a small crack. "Luna Lovegood."

His voice rasped with disuse and Luna thought that added a rather nice touch to it as before his voice had always had a rather unpleasant whine to it. "Draco Malfoy. I've brought homemade bread," she said holding up a cloth bag.

He stared at her for a long moment, as if he wasn't going to let her in, but she never doubted that the door would open, so she waited patiently, serene smile upon her face.

When the door opened, she walked in and looked around interestedly at the sparse, two room cabin. "So, it has come to self-flagellation?" she asked without sarcasm.

Draco didn't answer, but went to the fireplace and tossed another log into the flames. Luna went into the small kitchen area and rummaged around the cupboards until she found two plates. She sat the plates down on the table and pointed her wand at the bread she had brought, slicing it and toasting it at the same time. She sat down and put a few slices on each plate.

Draco sat down opposite of her and picked up a slice of bread, eyeing it suspiciously. He stroked his beard for a moment before finally taking a bite. They ate in silence and when they had both finished, Luna floated the plates off the table and into the sink.

"Why haven't your dreams changed, Draco?" she said.

"I can't control what I dream," he answered, turning away from her and fixing his eyes on the flickering flames of the fire.

"You can't run and hide from them either."

"You have no idea about my life," Draco said, his voice rising in anger. He stood and pointed at the door. "Leave!"

"Would you like me to bring something different next time? Pie? Scones? Wine?" Luna asked pleasantly, as if he hadn't just yelled at her.

"I don't want you to come back!"

Luna rose from the table. "Lies don't change anything, Draco," she said as she put on her coat, hat, gloves and scarf.

"What do you want?"

Her face softened. His emotions were hotter where it was colder. She reached up and ran a gloved finger across his full beard. "Dream a different dream and you'll see."

He rolled his eyes and huffed, but she was already at the door. "I'm going to make a snow angel before I go," she said, opening the door and walking outside. She closed the door behind her without looking back at Draco.

~*~

Cold. It was always cold. Not, not just cold, frigid. It was a frozen land, with little hope for a thaw ever. Draco stood outside in this cold, staring at a snow angel. It had been there for weeks. He had spelled a barrier over it, so the new snowfall wouldn't bury it.

He turned to go back inside when he heard footsteps crunching through the snow. He turned toward the footsteps and saw the maker of the snow angel walking toward him. He felt his lips begin to curl up into a smile, and he stopped them.

Luna emerged from the woods and held up a bottle. "Port," she called cheerfully.

Draco didn't answer, but held the door open for her. Following her in, he went to the kitchen and opened the cupboard. He had nothing even closely resembling a glass that a well-mannered person would drink port out of. He pulled out two mugs and transfigured them into aperitif glasses.

Luna, who had finished taking off her winter cloak and accessories, sat down on the floor in front of the fireplace. When Draco joined her, she handed him the bottle of port.

"It's almost Christmas," Luna noted as he filled the glasses.

"Is it?" Draco asked. He took a sip of the port and revelled in the warmth of it. He was not entirely sure what year it was, but thought it would be best not to mention that.

"Yes, it is," Luna said pleasantly. "I'm making hats for everyone. Harry's is going to have a broomstick on it."

Draco wondered if it would be a full-size broomstick or not. Knowing Loony, yes, it would. "So, you happened to be in the neighbourhood?" he asked.

"No," Luna answered. "I know your dreams are different, yet the same."

He frowned, for she was right. The only difference in his new dreams is that instead of being buried by sand, he was now being buried by snow. He took another sip of port and turned his attention to the flames in the fireplace.

Luna said nothing either, sipping her port and silently observing Draco watch the flames. Draco was not sure how long they sat there when he finally spoke, "The dreams are not important."

"Didn't I tell you lying wouldn't help?" Luna asked.

He wanted to argue, but arguing with Luna Lovegood was as pointless as arguing with the Dark Lord, although for very different reasons. "Why are you here?" he asked, not rudely, but with care.

"An owl would have never made it this far north carrying the bottle of port, not even if I charmed the port so it was weightless."

Draco nodded and refilled both their glasses. "The stars are beautiful at night here. It almost seems as if you could reach out and touch them. You should stay."

It wasn't a question, because he couldn't ask, but Luna answered, "Yes, I'll stay for a while."

They stood outside that night, surrounded by snow angels and gazed into the night sky. Luna reached a hand up toward the bright stars. "You're right; it does seem like you could reach out and touch them."

"I don't always lie," Draco answered.

~*~

Luna sat cross-legged on the only bed in the cabin and smiled at Draco. "Time for new dreams, Draco."

Draco stretched out next to her, rolling to his side and propping his head up with his arm. "I think this all just a dream. You're not really here."

Luna was intrigued at this notion. "Am I dreaming too?" she asked in all seriousness. "Have all my visits to you been dreams?"

"Maybe we are sharing a dream," he said. "That's how you know what my dreams are. Or perhaps you are asleep in your bed somewhere in England and have completely forgotten you ever knew me. Or I'm stark raving mad and am not even here myself."

She considered these ideas. "I don't know," she said finally. "How would you ever know if you were mad?" She stretched out on the bed next to him and leaned over, kissing his lips softly. "And how will we ever know it was all just a dream?"

"It is a conundrum," he said, reaching out to tuck a loose lock of Luna's hair behind her ear.

"Maybe it is just magic," Luna said. She kissed his forehead and moved her hand to rest lightly on his hip.

Draco nodded. If it was a spell, a dream or even madness, he didn't know. He did know he didn't want it to end though. He kissed Luna softly and whispered, "We'll figure it out in the morning."

The End