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The Dream	By : FemmeBono Category: HP Canon Characters paired with Original Characters > Het - Male/Female Views: 2488 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own anything to do with Harry Potter, and I do not make any money from these writings... sadly enough.

Chapter List
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A/N: I start this with an apology. I have not been as rabid on finishing
my other stories and have been struck blind and dumb with writer's block, since
I literally gained a new ship overnight. I blame Jason Isaacs and my
sub-conscious and hope that in writing this down I can get rid of it and focus
on the three that should be in the forefront of my mind--it would also help if I
could stop reading Lucius-centric stories so I can get comfortably back to Snape
where I thought I belonged. [So stop writing such good stories, guys!]

That said, I am treating this as a one shot (of sorts) because thanks to
every Muse for leaving me hanging, I have no clear-cut outline for where it can
go... I hate that. Actually, now I do have a tentative place I'd like to see them get to together and a bit of a journey for them too, so their time is coming--along with more chapters. First though, the other (older) stories are priority. And now so much for not prefacing my work...
The Dream

Leda Hersilie woke to a nightmare. Wracked as she was with chills and fever,
her breath came out in rattling gasps in the cold night air. Her first instinct
was that she had sleep-walked out of her home and into a blitzkrieg. Screams
ripped all around her, her neighbors' houses were alight with crackling flames
as she stumbled around barefoot, clad in a simple chemise. The scrap of cotton
she had gone to sleep in did nothing to stanch the biting cold wind of a January
night, nor did her tiny hands rubbing unconsciously over her upper arms as she
struggled to make sense of the scene that played out down her block. Numbly she
tripped her way down Wisteria Walk while families hunched together under a copse
of trees and masked men in robes wandered this way and that with what looked
like wands. One of them she was shocked to discover was female, as she unleashed
a hideously maniacal laugh. Leda stopped aghast as still another of the men
guided her next-door neighbor high into the air, her terror-stricken features
awash in a strange iridescent light. One of the disguised men, too, had lost his
robe and hood as he stood physically struggling with another man who lived a
street over on Privet Drive. Framing the ghoulish skeletal mask was a shock of
pale hair that reflected the moonlight.

"I don't want to kill you, you ignorant mudblood," he was saying,
as he pressed the point of what she now knew was a wand to the man's throat,
"but if you do not tell me their whereabouts, you leave me no choice."

The man (Wilkes, was his name?) promptly lost control of his bladder at that
point as he cried openly. "Please, sir, don't kill me! I've no idea where
they went. One day they was here and the next morning, nothing. Nobody knows a
thing. They was gone before even that mad nephew of theirs had gone. He
disappeared yesterday... we thought about phoning the police, but--"

"Silence," the pale one hissed, barely audible, "we already
know of him. You are sure you know nothing of the family's
whereabouts?"

"Yes," the man sobbed. With a flash of green light from the wand,
the man went limp, his eyes staring unfixed.

At that moment, Leda found herself literally wrenched away from the scene to
find herself face-to-face with another skeletal mask, gleaming in the light of
the moon.

"Shapely one, this," a male voice issued from behind it. He
perfunctorily squeezed one of her breasts before trailing a gloved hand down her
side to the curve of her hip. As he did so, a low hum of approval rolled deep
from his belly.

"Very well then Rowle, line her up with the others," commanded
another one, stopping close by as he set another house to explode from
within--as if a bomb had been set off behind its closed doors. "We're
taking a few of them back to headquarters. The games must continue after all,
otherwise it'll be a completely wasted trip."

With that she was shoved roughly ahead, even as her body wracked with coughs
she had been trying for a week to fight off. She comforted herself with the
vague knowledge that now there seemed to be little point in trying to get
herself well. It was almost good that she had put off going to the doctor; in
all likelihood, if they did not kill her soon, her illness might just grant her
a reprieve from more of their ministrations. As her feet stumbled over the rough
pavement, she was pushed toward a line of frightened shivering women. One of
them, Tilde Sparks, was barely sixteen years-old and weeping openly. Finally,
this image alone breached the limits of Leda's shocked awareness. She felt her
knees buckle even as she saw the blonde one approach the line at the front and
begin to peruse the woman as one might chattel. And indeed now, that is exactly
what they were.

Leda stayed kneeling on the ground feeling every bit the same as the brittle,
frost-covered grass under her legs. She doubled over completely when another fit
of coughing shook her core, leaving her weak as a newborn babe. She lay her
forehead on the ground, quietly rasping as her throat screamed and her back trembled
as if with aftershocks. As they slowly subsided, Leda lifted her face mere
inches off the ground, her breath catching again as she realized how close she
was to the tips of a pair of highly shined boots. She froze in place as she
heard their owner crouch down beside her. After a moment, she braved a glance at
the man. Scarcely daring to breath, she gazed into a set of clear blue eyes
beneath the mask as his gaze swept over her face and down her body.

He had barely a glimpse of long, auburn hair framing a heart-shaped creamy
face set with the deepest brown eyes before she turned abruptly, instinctive
manners leading her to cough feverishly in the other direction. What peculiar
compunction seized him, he did not know. But he briefly lifted the curtain of
her hair as she gasped for breath, before he hazarded a guarded glance around at
the chaos in this once peaceful suburb. Convinced that no one was watching, he
went on pure instinct as he stripped himself of his coat and draped it around
her shoulders, gathering her into his chest.

At this, Leda was certain her heart stopped in those fractured seconds as she
struggled for calm. She knew she stiffened unconsciously even as her vision
cleared from the haze of her latest fit. She felt strong arms clamped around
her, and saw only a patch of well-defined male chest through the open shirt under her clammy hand, with
a smattering of pale blond curls that tickled her nose. Before she could adjust
to the strange sensation, she felt her entire being almost cave in on itself
with a queasy jerk and a quiet pop. As her system righted itself, the arms still
around her as he laid her gently against a freezing iron gate, rubbing her arms.
She looked up once more into the wintry eyes before he turned from her, aiming
his wand at the gates. With a simple flick, a silvery rodent (a mongoose?)
erupted from the point and glided swiftly, silently up a large hill to a ruined
castle. Her system fully overloaded with the terrors and pain that now wracked
her body and mind, she lapsed into a deep and fitful sleep, not hearing the
quiet pop as the man disappeared again before his absence could be noted back at
what was left of her neighborhood. Or, equally as problematic, if his presence
were discovered at these particular gates.
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The Dream