Author note: Hello all, sorry it's been a minute, took a while to actually figure this chapter out. I hope you like it, again please be kind if you review, and give it a like if you enjoy it.
Disclaimer: in the first couple of chapters but again... I own nothing but the plot idea here. J.K. Rowling and Shakespeare are the rulers over the characters, not me. I simply wish I did.
Draco sat up with a start, blanket cascading into a pile around his waist and eyes darting from the dark green of his blanket to the dark wood of his bedpost. Stuck between the world of dreams and that of the waking one, he allowed the reverberating snores of Crabbe and Goyle to draw his mind back into reality. A minute passed by before he layed back into his pillow, to calm his racing heart and head.
Another minute passed before the heavy thrum in his chest stilled to a small twitch barely visible to the naked eye as it reflected off his pale skin in the moonlight. The dream he had, by no means was a nightmare. Not in the slightest bit actually, but it had confused and excited him nonetheless. Staring at the sea of emerald above him, he tried to settle his mind and rid himself of the haze that sleep often left in the waking hours. Slowly Draco's eyes gravitated towards his clock.
'What in Merlin's name!' he thought, rubbing his face in exhausted frustration before checking again. Just to make sure he wasn't seeing things. ' It's bloody three in the morning… I wasn't even able to get to bed until midnight!'
He closed his eyes wishing, above all else, that sleep would once again come to him. But as luck would have it… no such happiness would come to the poor boy. Heaving a small sigh he once again turned his thoughts to the strange and eventful dream.
** Flash Back to Dream**
All Draco could do was blink at the arena before him. He was confused… plain and simple as that. He'd only just fallen asleep when he all of a sudden found himself sitting here. Surrounded by a sea of people in red, and just opposite to his left an equal amount of blue. What had confused him most was the medieval garb they all were in. Not that it was uncommon in the Wizarding world. It's just that, that type of fashion was not generally worn by all. It was when he spotted what looked like a Young Professor McGonagall sitting next to Sirius Black in the sea of blue that he came to one conclusion.
"I'm bloody dreaming, and by Merlin is it going to be a strange one." He said as the reason for the arena and all those gathered caught his attention. He would admit it, although not freely, the horses thundering past him with riders in full armour made him as excited as a first year at the first quidditch game of the season. He had almost jumped when a voice entered his mind telling of how this tournament was meant to end the strife between the Montagues and Capulets.
'Explains the two colors,' he thought casually, 'I wonder what color represents which family?' He was also then left to wonder why he would be dreaming of Romeo and Juliet, a story he hadn't read for ages. His thoughts were driven away as the red knight pulled forward in the race. And he almost found himself cheering in excitement with the people around him as the same knight ran his javelin through the ring, winning the tournament. Were it not been for the excited voices next to him that drew his attention that is. He almost fell over as he realised who they were. There, in front of him was Harry freakin' Potter, his own Godfather Severus Snape and mother Narcissa. Dressed in high class medieval garbs of Red, hugging each other in happiness. As if it were the most normal thing in the world.
"What in Merlin's bloody hell is going on here?" He said out loud, watching the scene unfold before him. It was then he decided to look closely at those around him again. If these three were familiar to him, who's to say there wasn't anyone else. Looking towards the losing knight who angrily spat at them and walked off, he immediately made the connection that it was the youngest male Weasley. Draco thought the behavior so fitting of the red head that he simply didn't question it. He was still curious as to which house was represented by which color until Mercutio was declared winner and Draco had a sudden sinking feeling as he realised not only was Fred Weasley Mercutio, but that the group in which he sat were that of the Montagues.
Slowly the scene before him began to fade, and Draco hoped it was the end of his dream. But it seemed his subconscious had other plans as a new scene unfolded around him. Instead of the arena, he now stood in the midst of a small market hall standing next to non-other than Harry. Taking the opportunity to look at the little trinkets being sold, he became fascinated by the authenticity of it all. Objects for sale that he knew about even though he'd never seen them before in his life. All too soon, for Draco's liking, his little exploration into this world was interrupted by a crash of pottery a short ways down.
"Do you not choke to see Lord Tybalt bested by a Montague dog?" A gruff voice of what looked to be a manservant rang out. Grabbing the attention of both Harry and the men he had bumped into.
Draco took a moment before realising who the men were talking about, ' Ah, Tybalt then… that's who the Weasel is. This should be interesting.' he thought to himself seeing how fitting that actually was for the hot tempered Redhead. Slowly Draco inched towards the arguing men, listening as the angered servant's friend told him to leave it be. Deaf to the pleas he spit towards the Montague men. Who in turn pulled their own swords and started to quarrel with them. People began vacating the premise as best they could when the sound of steel began ringing through the air.
Harry's own shout of, "Stop!" went unheard, and Draco watched in amusement as the deluded boy pulled his own sword as if he would rush in and stop the fight. 'This could end up being pretty fun.' he thought with a smile wishing he had some Bertie Botts with him.
"Stop! Put up your sword, you know not what you do!" He shouted again pointing his sword in their direction looking for all the world at a loss on what to do. Draco would vehemently deny it if asked, but would have to admit to himself that he admired Harry in that moment. Simply because he tried to stop it rather than jump right in like the Gryffindork he usually was. Although it was a piss poor way of trying to stop a fight, it was a good try. He sat there shaking his head and laughing to himself at the naivety of Harry's situation until a voice he knew to be the redhead wonder's rang out over the clashing weapons.
" Hold up there! Turn thou Benvolio. And look upon thy death." The amount of anger in his voice alone, only lent proof of his threat as he brought his sword to Harry's neck. Draco sat back against a wall as the pure Gryffindorish energy cascaded off the angry man, he even had time to wonder how his subconscious could deem the two friends as hate filled enemies.
"Tybalt," the newly identified Benvolio implored, "I do but keep the peace. Put up your sword and manage to depart these men with me." He gestured to the quarrelling men behind the angry man in front of him. It took every ounce of restraint Draco had to suppress the urge to slap his forehead at the sad attempt of de-escalating the situation.
"What?! Do you draw your sword and talk of peace?" Tybalt questioned walking forwards with his blade to Benvolio's neck, causing the boy to move backwards."I hate the word as I hate Hell, all Montagues, and thee."
Draco could only snort in amusement as Tybalt's words rang clearly in his mind. 'A fitting temperament to describe Weasley, couldn't have found a better one.'
He continued watching as the Harry double tried to defend himself against the fierce storm of anger in front of him. Wondering how such an amount of anger could fester in the first place. It was when the voice of Sirius Black shouted above the crowd about how Tybalt argued with a child that Draco was able to get a good look at the man he noticed earlier. Watching as the two people in front of him started to fight, before turning to the woman who had accompanied Sirus over.
At this point Draco was glad that he had run out of shock at his situation, and that he had somewhat spotted her earlier. The woman next to him, he noted as being in her late 20's or early 30's. But there was nothing that could hide the fact she was Professor McGonagall standing there, staring in frustration at the dueling idiots before her.
'I wonder why she looks so young?' Draco thought, nothing about this was truly making sense at all to him. She was beautiful in her young age, but still looked every inch the stern transfiguration professor he respected almost as much as he did his Godfather.
He was once again drawn to the fight as Snape himself came rushing forward, brandishing his own sword and shouting out in challenge to Montague, his mother Narcissa rushing after him. Just as Sirius, or Montague he guessed, lost his footing and slid to the ground. Snape came to a threatening stance above him as both his mother and McGonagall ran up between them, arms out to stop the sword's blow as they shouted, "No!" and "Enough!" simultaneously. Both having had quite enough of not only their husbands' foolishness… but their nephews' as well.
Draco thought of how lucky the women were as a shout of, "The Prince!" rang out. Causing the fight to cease then and there. Everyone turned to where hooves on cobblestone could be heard. And Draco, having found himself completely enveloped in this world, turned with them. Only to stare at the very young and extremely angry looking Albus Dumbledore who sat regally on a horse. Draco could only swallow anxiously as he felt his face lose color.
"Rebellious subjects!" He rumbled out, " Stop this! Enemies of the peace, would stain the pleasures of a tournament with bits of blood! Throw your… ill tempered weapons to the ground, and hear the sentence of your angry Prince!"
Draco couldn't help himself, lowering his head and toeing at the ground before him as if he were an embarrassed child caught with their hand in a cookie jar. In all his years at Hogwarts he was quite thankful he had never seen or been the cause of this kind of anger for his headmaster. It scared him actually, and he could easily see why the man had been given such high esteem in this dreamworld.
"These civil brawls!" The Prince continued, "Bred of a foolish word by thee Lord Capulet, or Montague, have thrice destroyed the calm of our streets. If ever you disturb our town again! Your lifes… will pay the price for the offense!"
The silence following his declaration hung in the air as the threat permeated the crowd before he pointed to Sirius angrily, "You, Capulet, go along with me. And you, Montague," he now pointed to Severus, " come you this afternoon."
Both the men in question nodded their head in submission to their Prince, and Draco briefly wondered why Dumbledore had never done anything like that with Gryffindor and Slytherin. "It would make sense," he thought, " Threaten grades or something if they continued to be horrid to each other. Maybe even quidditch... It most definitely would work for me."
He lost his train of thought again as the Prince spoke to the people, " And now, on pain of death… all fighting men depart!" He then steered his horse back around leaving the small street and the scene around Draco to fade.
** End Flashback**
Draco allowed his eyes to slowly open as the events of the dream came through the sleep induced fog of his mind. He wasn't quite sure he understood what had happened exactly. And to top it all off, that version of Dumbledore could put the fear of God in him with how angry he had been. He could only thank Merlin that neither him nor Potter had angered the man to that point with their squabbles.
'Why, of all things would I be dreaming of Romeo and Juliet though?' He asked himself, 'I haven't read a story by Shakespeare since father found the books hidden in the library and promptly burnt them."
The small memory of his father angrily muttering under his breath about "Blasted muggle loving authors" came forward and he frowned. That had been one of the earliest times he had ever been angry about or questioned his father's opinions on blood status. Personally, Draco had loved Shakespeare's writings. Even if the man was a muggle loving wizard. It saddened Draco actually, he had never gained the courage to go and find those stories in the book shops after that day. He'd been to afraid of what his father would do to him and the books if they were ever found.
Putting his hands behind his head he thought on the after effects of that memory. Those plays were what had drawn Draco to the Muggle world in the first place. He had devoured the books once he had found them, then started searching for more books. Some of the ones he found were from muggle authors, and others weren't. He had come to an understanding of just how wrong Lucious had been about the muggles. 'They weren't illiterate savages like father said, those books held proof. They had laws and beliefs much like our own world. And the evil within them was not so different either' he thought. Remembering how most of those books had been hidden away in a secret compartment of his trunk.
Eventually his thoughts drifted back to his dream and the implications with which the story itself held in his subconscious. Of all people, not one but two Weasley's were fated to die, along with whoever the ill fated lovers were. And not only that, but Harry and Ron were enemies, it was strange to say the least. He may not get along with them particularly… but he didn't hate them. As much as he put a face on about it, that was mostly self preservation. No matter how much he pretended, he most certainly didn't wish death on any of them.
He laid there starting to lose the battle against his drooping eyes. Vaguely noticing that his clock read 4:00am as he turned on his side burrowing into his blankets. Before he knew it, he was being drawn into his dream world once again.
Draco really couldn't describe the new situation he found himself in, and he found it rather frustrating. He could only watch as his body moved of its own accord. His hands gliding over stone and carving out a beautiful sculpture. But he could do nothing, not even turn his own head or eyes to assess the area he was in. He could feel, and smell everything. He would even bet he could taste everything as well.
'It feels like being under the imperius curse,' He thought,' No way to control what I do at all. Although, this feels worse almost. There's no way to snap out of it, no way to wake up on my own.' He knew this was all a part of a dream again, but couldn't figure out why it was so different this time. It felt almost like he was stuck within a memory. After a few minutes he decided to let his mind wonder as his hands work, trying to determine if this was somehow related to his last dream. He didn't have long to wait though as out of the corner of his eye he saw a figure walk into his domain.
"Good afternoon my cousin." a young yet familiar voice said. Draco felt himself stop and almost felt excited as his head lifted to look at the person who now leaned against a pillar close by. If he could have, Draco would have done a double take. Not only had he gotten a clear look of the room but at the boy in front of him before looking back at his work. It was once again Harry Potter dressed in medieval garb. Draco realised this meant he was still within his original dream world, and that this was Benvolio, not Harry who talked to him. It was when he felt himself speak without his consent he became drawn to what was going on around him.
"Is it so?" he asked, his hands once again working on the sculpture, "I thought it should be night." He felt rather than saw Benvolio push himself off of the pillar and walk towards them. His voice carried a laugh with it as he spoke.
" Not much past four"
Draco leaned down, looking closer at a spot on the stone. Assuming he had found the problem as his hands raised the chisel and tapped it off when he spoke, "Then I am sad the hours seem long."
He took a moment in the small silence to truly take in the sculpture before him as his hands worked, he may not be in control of his actions but they were familiar to him in a way. And the stone was starting to form that of a beautiful woman. And not only was the boy in front of him being quite civil, he had called him cousin, Draco felt nothing but peace and familiarity about the situation. It was bloody confusing him! Then he put the words and actions of himself and Benvolio together, wincing mentally as he realised this meant he was infact Romeo.
'Well bugger.' he thought. 'Guess that means I'm gonna die in this dream… that's really gonna be a damper later on.' he had no doubt this dream would continue over the entire story, the question he now wanted answered… was why.
"And what sadness lengthens Romeo's hours?" Benvolio's voice said, dragging him out of his concerning thought process.
His body stopped it's work, and his head turned to fully look at the boy across from him. It actually amazed him how identical Benvolio was to Harry. He wasn't just a look-a-like, he was an exact copy.
" I lack the thing if which I had, it would make them short." He said.
"I see," Benvolio responded, leaning forward onto the workbench, "You're in love." The conspiratorial look in his eyes made Draco want to laugh, as he realised that he had never seen such a carefree look on Harry's face before. Especially after the ministry fiasco last year. He kinda wished he could find a way to make it happen in the real world.
Draco felt himself slouch back, deciding to just go with the flow of the situation he just listened as his voice started to speak again, "How was the tournament?" He knew himself well enough to spot an attempt at changing the subject. The question was, what was he avoiding?
"It served it's terms." Benvolio said, sounding disappointed and unsheathing his sword then laying it on an empty table. "To launch another clash with Capulet."
"So you must fence with hate and I with love." Draco said, once again starting his work on the sculpture. Benvolio became thoughtful as he took a seat across from him. Eventually he spoke up softly.
"Love… is a harsh tyrant where he rules"
It took a moment, as he felt himself think, before Draco responded.
"Love is a smoke," he said before blowing the dust away to give an example of his statement. "He prays on the fume of sighs. A madness drenched in syrup and choked with rage." His hammer once again hit the chisel. And the two sat in silence for a moment before Benvolio's curiosity got the best of him.
"May I not know who it is you love?" he asked leaning on his knees. Draco who found himself actually starting to feel a connection emotionally to the scene playing out before him laughed along with his body. He actually wished Harry was here to see the two of them having a civil conversation. He bet the boy would pass out from shock.
Eventually he answered in a plain tone, " I love a woman."
Benvolio sat back with a huff of annoyance at the answer. Much in the same way he had seen Harry do in response to Weasley being an idiot.
"That much I found I needed." He said, in a tone dripping with sarcasm.
"Who loves me not," Draco interrupted as he walked towards Benvolio as he stood from the chair.
Benvolio put his hands on Draco's shoulders as they came face to face before asking, "Sweet cousin… Say it not so. But may I have a name?"
They spent a minute looking at each other, Draco could feel himself trying to decide what to tell Benvolio. And with a swift response of "Rosaline" he seemed to have come up with his answer. He then turned away from Benvolio who's hands dropped in shock as he repeated the name in disbelief. 'Broken record there mate?' Draco laughed out mentally at the dumbfounded look on the boy's face.
"The niece of Lord Capulet?" Benvolio tried to clarify. Draco could only wish that his eyes would roll and simply clarified that it was before the boy forcibly spoke again, " Be ruled by me and forget to think of her."
'What a load of rubbish.' Draco thought, 'When you love someone or feel that you do it's not something easily forgotten.' It would seem the counterpart controlling his body would agree as he spoke his thoughts, "Teach me how I should forget to think."
"Love will not call on you but once." came the reply, "Nor stay forever when he comes. Release your eyes, be glad she does not care. Examine other Beauties."
"To what purpose?" Draco said angrily as he started walking out of the room leaving Benvolio behind. 'What a load that is, you don't just forget and get over things like that.' he thought as he walked. Behind them he heard Benvolio speak as the scene once again faded to black.
"Cousin, I pray thee change thy mind."
His eyes flashed open, his sliver grey staring blankly up at the emerald green above him. Frustrated at the naivety of Benvolio and wondering why, of all the stories out there, he had to dream about one rent with tragedy. Not only had he come to learn his subconscious fated him to die but that of at least three other people. Which included Ron, Fred and whoever Paris and Juliet happened to be. He didn't care who any of them were in reality, but he wasn't a sociopath either. Never would he wish deaths like those in the play on someone. Well, maybe snake face back at the manner… but that was different.
For the second time that morning he found himself sitting up in his bed as he pieced his thoughts together and looked at the clock on his nightstand. Releasing a growl of quiet frustration when he realised it was now Five in the morning.
"Bloody hell," he whispered, "It's going to be a long day." Having decided there was little to no use in trying to fall asleep again since his alarm would go off in an hour anyways. Draco swung his legs over the edge of the bed and quietly stood, heading to the showers. He cast a silencing charm so as not to wake his dormmates and got ready for the day, mulling over his dreams.
He'd become so lost in thought it was as if he was in a trance as he dressed and walked out of the dorm to wander the halls an hour before breakfast. Having gone several flights up he came to a window and stood looking out of the glass at the snow covered ground hoping that none of these dreams had anything to do with the library incident. Although, he felt deeply that this was directly related to it. And it scared him a bit if he was being honest.
Draco shook his head and decided to head towards the Great Hall, 'I need to talk to Hermione. We need to figure out what that light was and if it has something to do with those dreams.' he turned the corner of the hall and was promptly shoved out of his thoughts when another body came barreling into him.