It was dark, an inky ill black on his skin, and a sight that she couldn’t avoid looking at. One would think it was drawn in blood for all it took from him, but the blackness seemed appropriate for how it had seeped in and drawn into his soul. No longer did he have the innocence worn beneath the veil of sophistication that had first attracted her to him – that irreverent and obnoxious untouchable, but deadly attractive, bad boy from school. The grey eyes held remembrances of things she did not dare to contemplate for she knew they already wracked his dreams and left him broken despite her healing magic and more importantly love.

Before she had dared to enter those dreams and walk among them, even the barest glimpses had left her heart bleeding with unseen pain, crying with all the emotion that he could not (and sometimes dared not) express. When he had seen her afterwards, he had asked, no demanded, that she never attempt such a thing again. Her presence was soothing enough that she did not need to stretch herself so far.

Laying there, watching the rise and fall of his chest and avoiding the darkness of the mark sketched on his arm that never seemed to fade with time, she remembered how they had met – met as people and not school age rivals with a propensity for taunts and hexes and ridicule. It had not been what she expected and she knew that the events and the outcome still left him puzzled.

It had only been after his departure from Hogwarts and the death of Dumbledore that she had found him. And even then it was only an accident. Upon returning home that summer, she had lived quietly, watching Harry and Hermione and Ron and waiting for her chance to contribute. Some days she had been included, but others… Well it is a time now past and something she refused to dwell on considering how deeply their rejection had cut at the time.

Throughout that time, her mind had wandered often and sleep had become … different. What would start as a night of restful sleep would soon become a waking nightmare. With her body left behind, her mind and spirit could roam through the dream world at will, taking her places into visions and ideas that others dreamed of that she had never imagined. The real problem became that she never truly physically rested through sleep because her mind was always out and active. When the visions became stronger and darker and more painful to carry in her mind, she gave up trying to sleep altogether.

Soon though the lack of sleep and the pain of carrying the visions became nearly overwhelming and she broke. It was like she shattered into a thousand splinters, each sharper than the last and almost too small to make her whole again. Through a broken and disjointed explanation she shared with Hermione, who happened to be the only person she could trust, what had been happening. A small ray of light entered as Hermione recognized the symptoms and provided (as usual) reading material on the matter.

She was a Dreamwalker.

Even now the term seemed more surreal than the abilities that came with it. It had taken a great deal of time and effort to bring herself to the point where sleeping meant sleeping and not Dream Walking. She learned to control her abilities to where she was able to will herself into certain dreams and move among the Dreamscape looking for what she needed.

But it wasn’t always that easy. Some dreams and their dreamers pulled harder on her and brought her easily into the realm of their influence. Often she found herself watching the dreams that slipped through Harry’s subconscious, which ranged from the pleasant to the nightmarish. Because she was often pulled into his darkest and nightmarish dreams, she learned enough to be able to soothe away the nightmares from inside the Dreamscape. It was not as simple to do as she thought and her first attempt left her body bleeding from internal wounds that took weeks to heal. But with time she managed the ability and practiced often on Harry.

Occasionally she stepped through Hermione’s field, smiling with pleasure at the feminity that laced the dreams. Less often, she stole into those of her family and brothers, using the journeys to check on their safety and well being no matter what distance they were from her. Other times she worked tirelessly to search the Dreamscape for bits and pieces of information, all in the name of helping ‘fight the good fight’ against He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named. Though it had taken time to convince people that her visions and insights were to be trusted, it became the best part of her abilities and gave her less reason to loathe the darkness and the visions and information she always carried with her now.

One dreamer pulled her relentlessly and for months she had resisted its pull. Then one day nearly at the Christmas hols after she had discovered her ‘gift’, the sensation of pulling overwhelmed her and she knew for certain that she had to walk the Dreamscape to the dreamer. Though hesitation colored the footsteps she left behind in the Dreamscape, her soul knew just where to go. It found him, for she had known all along it was male, there, hidden, shivering and crying from the darkness. Now without an ounce of hesitation, she moved into his dream and shielded him, calmed him.

After the first time of being within his Dream, there were many more such visits. At first all she did was watch and wonder who it was, this crying sobbing child who lived in the darkness of these dreams. Why didn’t any of the dreams have light or happiness? Slowly she began to move within the realm of his dreams and she found, hidden behind the deepest and darkest, flashes of light – a dark red so brilliant in color that it could even warm her skin of her body’s shell left behind after she entered the Dreamscape. There were also hints of a vivid green and a shining silver within the darkness as well, but it was the red that intrigued her the most. Each time she visited, she tentatively coaxed out the color, calling to it, soothing it. Soon that piece of him began to wait for her, pushing back the darkness to find her no matter what the cost.

But there was a toll to pay for what she did for him and she began to pay dearly for the strength she expended to be with the dreamer. As his physical body lay far from hers, the distance traveled weakened her magically when she awoke. The toll she paid ceased to matter for her for she needed to assuage the overwhelming curiosity about whom it was living with such darkness in dreams. Why was there nothing more to color his dreams? She wanted to heal them and make him whole and know who he was outside of the dreams.

One night, after weeks of desperate trying, just before Valentine’s day, she managed a glimpse of who it was – Draco Malfoy. Even now, as safe as she was, it made her heart skip a beat with the terror that had blossomed in her mind then. What had she done getting close to him? What had she been doing with aiding the enemy? Could she ever forgive herself?

Raw courage alone gave her the strength to stand her ground and face down his dreams with the knowledge of who he was. Once again she soothed him in the dream and her fear ebbed away, marveling at the humane person she could now see inside. How much of before had been a show? Holding his spirit in peace, so the boy’s physical body could rest, she thought long through his night. Why was she so drawn to this dreamer, even now that she knew who he was? Shouldn’t she be running in fear? Shouldn’t she hate him?

Several nights in a row, after knowing who he truly was, she returned, tormented still by her questions from the first night she had gained the knowledge of his identity. Her mind played through the options, considering what to do, but she couldn’t stay away, especially when she saw how positively she could influence him. With a soft sigh, she knew she was intrigued – intrigued enough to never walk away.

Gathering her courage one afternoon, knowing now that his dreams alone were not enough knowledge to have of him and wanting more of a connection with him, she set quill to paper and penned a letter. Owling it off to him before she could have change her mind, she wondered for nearly a week what would come of it.

Sighing softly at the memory, she rolled toward him once more. Brushing back a strand of soft silvery hair so she could better see his face, a soft smile slipped across her lips as she remembered her astonishment at his reply. It hadn’t been the bevy of swearing or lack of a reply that she expected. Instead it seemed to be an outpouring of emotion by a desperate teen walking the edge of life and death. She never knew what had promoted that kind of response and he had never been forthcoming with that information.

Owls had flown back and forth between the pair, divulging personal information but never taking sides on the battle that both fought for. It had become an unwritten rule of their interaction. She helped him sleep when she felt his restlessness and pain overwhelming her – even from a distance. He had listened and responded with interest to her description of her life and her frustration with being a girl in an all boy family and a multitude of other inane things.

The war had passed before they had run out of things to say to one another. For her the desire to meet had been burning within her for long months, but even though the war was ‘over’, it wasn’t safe for him to venture into the wizarding world. Her impatience grew, but she knew enough about him then that pushing would only result in him stepping back from her and stepping back was the last thing she wanted.

After a year of letters being exchanged, there finally opened an opportunity for them to meet. It was quiet and private and he was still more different than she had thought. His body was painfully thin and life didn’t seem to be able to live within him for much longer. His eyes were haunted and dark and his mouth had forgotten how to turn upwards for any semblance of a smile. Her heart had wept for his pain but she made no show of it on her face, determined not to show him pity, something she knew he would hate.

Now that he could see her, he knew why he had started writing and why he had continued. Why he had clung to her as the only stability in his world of darkness. He felt himself soften and reach toward her. The brown eyes were warm and held hope and the red of her hair, something once so despised for standing for all blood traitors, was the fleeting red that had hidden among the darkness of his mind. With a shaking hand, he reached out to her, wary of her rejection still.

Taking his thin hand in hers, small but warm and rough, she showed him life and renewed the purpose inside of him. It was if something in his heart had warmed and he pulled her toward him ever so slowly. Without a moment of hesitation, she went into that trembling embrace. Her arms offered him a home like he had never known before and for the first time in his memory, he broke down and sobbed.

The release of emotion between them cemented the relationship. It hadn’t been easy by any means and both of them readily admitted that. But with her standing beside him, he made it through the trials and everything else that was deemed necessary by a Ministry dead set on taking revenge on those who had offered any help to the Dark Lord. They had made an odd pairing with her bright red hair and vibrant character combined with his paleness and sarcastic sobriety. Everyone watched their interactions with interest. Some tried to come between them, but their relationship was firmly tied together with bonds that would never be broken.

As time passed and the trials and remnants of the war disappeared, they explored their relationship. He learned to love and express that emotion to her and she gained a rapier sharp wit and how to hide emotion when it wasn’t needed. Together they grew into adulthood, turning what had been a deep and unrivaled friendship, into a marriage. Though the marriage shocked some and left others in denial, for most it had been seen as a foregone conclusion. Though only a few years had passed since they had become man and wife, they knew that it was a relationship that would last – no matter what they had to face.

Slowly, Ginny Malfoy came back to the present and realized wide grey eyes were watching her. Despite all that was between them, she flushed at his unabashed stare. His fingers stroked across her flushing cheek and down to her rounded abdomen. Cupping the unborn child, he smiled at her. Those eyes flashed pleasure and warmth and love to her and she knew, for once and for all, this new life would heal him and bring them even closer.

And all it took was the courage walk within a dream.