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Nocturnal Colors

By MagicMysticFantasy

Romance / Fantasy

Rose

The first time Rose realized that her dreams were different than those of everyone else she knew was when she was six years old. Her cousins from the Potter side of the family had been visiting, and a nine year-old James was gushing about the dream he'd had where he was riding the fastest broom ever created and had won the game for his team. The others had given their input – teasing and impressed remarks, mostly – but she had just looked at him in confusion.

"But what about the eyes? Where were they? Don't you dream about eyes too?"

At the time, Rose wasn't nearly as tactful about being different, but in all honesty she hadn't known that she was different. Her cousins had given her weird looks at questions, and James exclaimed how gross it was to dream of eyeballs. She corrected him immediately. Not eyeballs, just a pair of eyes usually looking directly at her.

Of course by dinnertime, both of her parents, and her aunt and uncle had learned about her strange dreams. They had a hushed conversation in the kitchen that ended with everything seemingly okay. Her parents waited until after the Potters had all gone home for the night – and until her brother Hugo had gone to bed – before talking to her about it. They asked all sorts of questions about her dreams, and Rose supplied their answers easily.

No, she was never afraid of the eyes; they were always friendly and always lit up with happiness when they saw her. Yes, there was always more than just eyes, but she could never remember any of the other features the person in her dreams had once she woke up. She was always very happy to see the person, whoever they were and whatever they looked like. Yes, the dreams did come every night, no matter what day it was or where she was.

Describing what the eyes looked like to her parents was harder – after all, they were eyes, and eyes tend to be very multicolored. The closest thing she could come up with in terms of color was metal. More precisely, polished platinum underneath melted ice. (What she didn't tell her parents was that it was because of those eyes that her favorite colors were greyish silver and icey blue.)

Within the week, her parents had taken her to St. Mungo's for a check up – just in case. Rose knew her parents were worried about her. By now she had learned that other people didn't dream about eyes like she did. This newfound knowledge actually made her sad, as she told the Healer checking her, because other people didn't get a person they could dream about.

She passed the Healer's inspection easily, and she could tell that her parents were relieved. The Healer told them that she suspected the dreams were just her mind's way of processing things, rather than the dreams other people usually had. Rose didn't agree, but she held her tongue and remained silent as her parents smiled and nodded.

Rose had already learned that it was best not to talk about her differences so openly – especially when she knew there was no chance someone else would properly understand what she meant.


Several years later, and Rose was nine. She still dreamed about the platinum eyes every night, but had learned much more about keeping secrets since when she was younger. She knew by then that it reassured her parents to think that she was completely normal, so she made a point to never bring up eyes at all. She even avoided talking about her cousins' eyes just in case they led to questions about her dreams. Her avoidance of the topic never stopped the dreams, though.

By now, she and the person in her dreams had talked about a lot. That was the other thing that she could always remember besides the eyes. She couldn't recall what the voice sounded like, much to her frustration, but she could always remember what they had said to her.

To make sure she never forgot what the person had told her, she began writing down everything they said in a silver journal. (The color wasn't the same as the eyes, but she had chosen the closest shade available.) Before long, the pages were full of conversations the two of them had, and Rose felt so lucky to have a friend that would never go away.

She also told the person all about herself as well, and once she told them something, they never forgot. By nine years old, she felt that the person knew her better than she knew herself – and she suspected that it was the same for them. Oh, she had no doubts that her person was real, despite what the Healer said when she was younger. The experience was too lifelike for it not to be. Besides, hadn't her uncle Harry once said that Dumbledore told him that just because something was happening inside his head, that didn't mean it wasn't real? If Dumbledore believed that, then she trusted him more than a Healer at St. Mungo's. Maybe he dreamed of eyes too.

During stressful days, she actually looked forward to falling asleep, because it meant that she would soon be talking with the person she considered her best friend. Sure, they argued from time to time, but by the next day the other was always forgiven and the quarrel put behind them. Sometimes, Rose had forgiven her person sooner than that, but was unable to say so until she fell asleep

Though she wouldn't ever give up the dreams, Rose started wanting to meet the person outside of dreams as well – just so that she could finally remember what her person looked like, if nothing else.


Two more years later, and Rose was getting ready to board the train to Hogwarts. Her trunk was packed with the essentials: clothing, school supplies, and her watercolors. Because she had very nearly given up on ever meeting the person she talked with every night in her dreams, she had taken to painting their eyes in watercolor.

The time spent on each painting ranged from an hour to several days to a week. The time that she had spent a week on a single painting, she had used tiny dots of liquid to form an iris that was the perfect match to the ones she dreamed about every night. (It was actually stored in the false bottom of her trunk, along with several of her other favorites.)

Her mother had actually found one of her paintings as it was drying on her desk, and had been so impressed with it that she had shown it off to the rest of the family. When asked about the inspiration for it, Rose had shrugged, claiming that the image had just come to her one night. It wasn't a lie, but it wasn't the whole truth either. Soon, some of the other family members had wanted her to try painting their eyes. The exercise was fun, but she still preferred painting her polished platinum ones over theirs any day. In case the urge to paint struck her, she felt it was necessary to be prepared.

"Don't get too friendly with him."

Her father's words barely register, as Rose was never interested in holding a grudge for very long, and well, this one isn't even her own. Before she knew it, she was in a compartment with her cousins waving to her family as the train began moving. The cousins she was sitting with began chattering, and Rose listened on with a smile until the door to their compartment opened. She looked over to see good quality clothes, pale skin, platinum blonde hair, and –

And eyes the color of polished platinum beneath melted ice.

Rose barely noticed that she had stopped breathing, and she could hear her heart beating rapidly in her ears. This was her person. Now that she had seen him in real life, she could remember him from her dreams. This was the person who knew every secret and insecurity she had. This was the person who knew all of her preferences, like the fact that she hated Chocolate Frogs because they moved, and loved Cauldron Cakes for their filling. This was the person who had replied with a promise to always trade with her should the occasion ever arise. This was the person she had talked with, joked with, laughed with. This was her person.

After what felt like years but was only seconds, she realized that he looked as stunned as she did. His platinum eyes had gone wide in shock, and he seemed as breathless as she was. Rose was vaguely aware that her family had gone quiet, sensing that something important was happening here. Her eyes took in his features, and she noticed with a small smile the Cauldron Cake he had in the hand hovering above his pocket. She pulled a Chocolate Frog from her own pocket and held it out with a smile, the look in her eyes clearly saying to him You promised.

He blinked once in surprise, then his eyes lit up as he smiled widely, wordlessly trading items with her. He stared at her for a moment longer, but it wasn't uncomfortable. They had stared at each other for much longer than this in their dreams, attempting to memorize the other's features for when they awoke.

"H-hi." he said, uncommonly shy, though his tone was a little bit awestruck. Rose could understand though. It felt pretty surreal to finally be meeting each other like this after years of their only interaction being in their dreams.

"Hi." Rose noticed that her tone was a little breathless, but at the moment she didn't really care. She was also aware of the perplexed looks her cousins were sending her, but was choosing to ignore them for the moment. This meeting was for her and him only, they could have their own when it was finished. The boy extended his hand suddenly.

"I'm Scorpius Malfoy." he said when she took his hand. Rose smiled in return, still hardly believing that they were both really here.

"Rose Weasley. Pleasure to finally meet you." she said, and he smiled as well. Their smiles share a story that only they knew. The others probably assumed that they were glad to meet the person they've heard so much about from their parents. To them, it meant something else entirely. "Would you like to join us?" she asked. His eyes flashed as he responded.

"Always."

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