A/N: I have no idea where this came from. Confusing as hell, I guess you could say. Heh, understatement of the year. But I guess if you're into dark, morbid stuff this is right up your alley, so to speak. This is a dream sequence, I don't know why I added this to the fic, but it's not completely done yet.

This is Draco's dream if you can't guess. If you read it and are wondering where the slap came from and why there are two of him, well you'll see in the next part. I know this fic doesn't make sense yet, but it will soon, I promise. ^_^;


Dreams. The equivalent to what our deepest, darkest desires and wants dare to consider in indifferent shadows and glimpses of hope are what makes us…us. Unique to the point of abstractly similar, the small plays we engage and dwell in are all too familiar and hauntingly cumbersome. We all have them, whether we remember them or not they are still buried within. In every way, shape or form, adventures play out like true life only not. They bombard our sleep and roam our paths of thoughts to prey on our simplest, tiniest and purest fictitious yearnings or fears. Nightmare's or angelic wishes of dreamscapes all come from some vent deep within our hearts only to be determined and acted out in subconscious pleading and determination.

Say your free flying in a sky so blue that you could almost drown in the currents of peace and purity only the next second you find yourself dropping a hundred miles an hour into sharp looking spikes of molten rock and sickly blackness. To one person this tale could be described as a terrifying death of bloody splatter and to another… an outlet from life and finally bringing peace so fully deserved. We each display our own versions of this dilemma with only our wishes and true feelings humming out the definite conclusion.

And as you see the floor coming ever so closer, screams of terror so potent it hurt to listen upon cascaded out from bloody lips coaxing and dripping to the ground below with tiny droplets. Arms lash out like broken wings in desperate attempt to halt and slow the descent in a hilarious version of a sick bird; making the voluminous wind bristles by you and whip your skin raw.

Time stands still as eyes weep and wide stare endlessly to there coming doom as thoughts run rampant, life flashes, and wishes placed upon praying lips are ventured. Only the fact that you're still drifting into the depths of the dreamscape is the only truth in this messy delusion. An illusion so realistic that makes you whimper and scream out in utter horror of untimely death.

Now, the only way to see how this plays out is to see it unfold and hit the ground. As most of us know hitting the ground would be instant death in reality. Only how can you possible be sure. If a person dies in their sleep how do we know they died in the realm of dreams? Beliefs of our own whims and heart can tell you that, but before you become an indent in prickly pavement remember… is this reality or just your hell-like perception of it. Will you die on a sharp pole of rock or in bed asleep with comfy pillows and sheets?

Say your lucky and can read or decipher dreams from within dreams. Maybe you can even venture and listen in on, playing a part of another's scape of reality. To be able to do that you must first know what your dreams are telling you. The ability to digest, defeat, and confirm your desires in dreams is remarkable if not impossible.

So here you are now, sitting disinterestingly on the top of a sharp pole clearly wondering how you stopped falling and another was. The waiting for the other more tragic you to fall and make a huge human imprint on the hard gravel seemed almost laughable as you sit there crossing your legs and laying your elbows on your knees. Part of you is intrigued by the new you; free falling and the other is discreetly happy it's not you in it's place.

The two of you make eye contact… gray-to-gray… one with fear so tightly drawn it drew bloody tears… the other with dull and knowing with so much knowledge it perceived the age ten-fold. As the grasps of this dream unfold and draw to a conclusion, you hold out a hand and clasp it around your twins' tiny wrist and stop the fall immediately. You don't know why or how you could do so, just the simple fact that those same eyes that held such horror and then gratitude was enough for the overwhelming sense of self-preservation to blotch through.

As each of you stare with the same heart-melting smiles and content miring your faces, deep relief is gained and terror terminated for all time. The two of you blink and smirk as the dark patchwork of the nightmare is dissolved into nothingness revitalizing the deep blue sky and cloudy puffiness from the beginning. Sunny currents of happiness and righteousness fill you and you all about float and jump in place from the feelings.

All of a sudden a set of feathery black wings pop out of your shoulder blades with iridescent hues and blistering glamour of beauty, that you could only watch transfixed as they flowed and whipped around you. As your fingertips were just about to touch the soft tendrils of feathers you see your double, double over and materialize his own set of heavily white wings. White as freshly fallen snow compared to your spacely black and star shimmered. The world around you hums in the wisps your wings make, making your body fill with warmth and giddiness. Pulling your alter ego to yourself and hug him close wrapping your wings around each other, the world begins to unravel and knowing takes hold.

Just as you're about to open your mouth and speak to your other the world around you erupts again into painful hurt. The two of you cling to each other, both rubbing swelling and bruising cheeks as darkness and acid rains drains from above. The second you frantically pulls away and lashes out screaming as he becomes a bloody pulp and gurgles under the rains descent. You watch horrified, as yourself is devoured whole with tears and pain engulfing you in fiery abyss. Fingers wiggle out in attempts to salvage that sweet touch, as your twin is sickly defiled into gooey essence of red.

The last thing you think before screaming hurtfully into wakefulness is… which one of us truly died in here… your hopes or your fears…