I'm not Allowed to Love You

The Dream, the Warning, and the Barrier

When Draco fell asleep the night before September 1st, his restlessness made it so it was well past midnight before he had any sleep at all. But when he did, Draco's mind made a very strange dream. Draco was outside Madam Puddifoot's Tea Shop, watching as the green eyed boy went on a date with a girl. Draco was crying, and the rain was pouring down on him as if wanting him to disappear. But then the boy looked up, and suddenly it was the eyes, locked on his, his face blurring but for the eyes. But the face around the eyes started to change, and scales had replaced skin. The snake that had made up the tattoo was smiling at him, a terrible smile of cruelty, not joy. In a high and cruel voice the snake spoke, many of the words trailing into the next. The more you try to protect him, the more he gets hurt. And the snake struck, and Harry was falling down, down, down. And Draco was over his body, crying, trying to bring him back even though he knew it was hopeless. And Draco kept wailing, "I didn't tell you, I didn't tell you!"

Draco woke up, and after lying there for a second, the tears on his face became apparent as they cooled and dried. Strange, he thought, I never cry. He clambered out of his bed and into his dark room, full of different shades of green to represent Slytheirn. He went into his bathroom to do his hair. Today was the big day, he told himself, today is the day that you torment Harry.

Thinking of Harry reminded him of his dream last night. He tried to remember what little memory was left. There was Harry, obviously. And something to do with a snake? Yes, the snake was talking. But he couldn't recall what it was saying. But then Harry had fallen, and Draco had been over him crying over his death. Draco looked at himself in the mirror with horror. He had been referring to him as Harry! Draco was ashamed of himself. Last name basis only. Draco shuddered to think what would happen if Potter started calling him "Draco". He could hardly contain himself as is. From, you know, hexing him and... and that sort.

As the sun rose higher in the sky, he had awoken very early, he headed down into the drawing room, which was always where his mother would go, in a haunted state. She wasn't the same since Lucius had left. She needed someone to tell her what to do, and as Lucius loved to do so, she was rather lost in the grief of losing him and basically giving her son up, as tribute to watch him die. Draco wasn't stupid. He knew this mission had been given to him for the sole purpose to watch him fail and die. And he knew he would fail. But he couldn't leave his mother all alone. He didn't want to see how many lives were tied to his, how many would be killed if he failed. So he had tried to find out a way for the mission to succeed, without himself being tarnished in the way many people seemed to want. The plan would be hard to follow through, and if any of his schoolmates die because of him, he couldn't live with himself.

Narcissa did not look up when he came in the room, and when he coughed to get her attention, her head barely nodded to acknowledge his presence.

"It's time to go, Mother," Draco said, attempting to sound like his father, and failing miserably. He was not his father. But Narcissa nodded, and walked to the front lawn. They alone could Disapparate to and fro, aside from the Dark Lord and other Death Eaters. The Disapparation was more difficult, with Draco holding his luggage and his owl in one hand, grasping Narcissa's arm in the other. When new the surroundings became more clear, however, the load was lifted by the luggage trolley that was abandoned beside them.

Walking through the barrier was like a slap in the face for Draco. The Muggles had been nodding respectfully at Draco in his crisp suit, but the other side of the barrier had nothing respectful of kind at all. There were glares from complete strangers, suspicious glances from parents, and worst of all, the pulling back of small children when they passed, as if he were a wild dog. He tried to act like this didn't hurt him.

But it did.

Of course it did.

It was with relief that he arrived at the compartment that all the Slytherins kept to. A cage where no one else would go. His mother hugged him and kissed him, none too gracefully.

"It will be okay, Draco," She whispered with tears in her eyes.

"I know, Mother," He responded, not really believing it. Nothing was okay.

Absolutely nothing.