Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter, or Ginny and Draco for that matter, I have merely loaned them out for this fic and will promptly return them to JK Rowling. I promise. And sadly the title is borrowed from the song "Dream" and then technically belongs to Johnny Mercer.

Author's Note: This takes place during book seven, yet drastically changes its events.

Chapter 1

Moonlight speared in through the clear plate glass window. The blue streams flickering over a wardrobe, an end table, and a canopy before settling on her. The soft light sent her bright red hair aflame and limned her body with a phosphorescent glow, much like his ghostly body.

The room was deathly quiet, only her soft breathing could be heard but he knew, the ghost who watched her knew, that in an instant that would change. She and she alone could save them, could rescue them all from the undo pain.

Too bad the fate of the world rested on the shoulders of a sixteen-year-old girl. Could be worse though, could be an infant boy.

And with that he reached out. His long finger connected with her forehead. She jumped in her sleep at the contact. An electric shock sparked from the contact and he breathed four words into the silence, "See what will be".

She moaned in pain and he let his hand drop to his side. He pushed the long strands of his elbow length black hair out of his face and wiped the tears from her eyes. It was for the best. For Fred, for Tonks, for Teddy and most importantly for Remus.

He allowed himself one last look back at her, silently wishing her luck. And in an instant he was gone.

* * *

Ginny knew she was dreaming, but it felt horribly real. Flashes of a battle, confused masses in tattered robes holding broken wands and wearing weary expressions, shooting off random spells hoping one would hit its intended target swam across her eyelids. A castle provided the battlefield, Hogwarts castle she realized after a few moments.

Then as if in one of those blessed muggle inventions, a movie, the camera seemed to zoom in. It moved through the foot thick bricks, and showcased the smiling face of her brother. Then in an instant a wall teetered, the bricks jostling and then falling, crushing the redheaded boy beneath.

Oh God. Oh Fred. Pain sliced trough her chest, so strong she cried out and doubled over with it. No, not Fred! Not her brother! She wanted to scream, to throw herself on the ground, pound and kick like a petulant child. But there was no time.

The dream moved on. The camera reversed back to the outside, zeroing in on a flash of pink in the crowd of fighters. Tonks bright pink hair was a beacon amidst the confusion of battle. She followed it. Her brave friend threw spells left and right, dodged them too.

"Tonks, lookout." Remus Lupin's familiar voice shouted. Tonks' head turned just in time to see the green bolt of spellfire coming toward her; the killing curse. She was doomed.

Lupin launched himself at her, pushing her out of the way, only to be hit himself. His body went still, his eyes open, staring blankly ahead.

"You bastard." Tonks growled, charging ahead right into a crowd of deatheaters. Her rage fueled her for a good twenty minutes, but two deatheaters trapped her. In an instant she too was still.

No Tonks, Lupin. What about . . .? Dear God Teddy. He was an orphan, like Harry. Tears clouded her vision but the dream once again moved again. As if it were edited together by some sadist with ADHD.

A victory, they won but bittersweet. Their army was barely a fraction of what it had been, her family too.

I have to stop this. I have to. We can't lose Fred or Tonks or Lupin. There had to be a way to defeat Voldemort and have them live. There just had to be.

"The boy." A voice whispered. A shadowed image flashed before her eyes. A tall boy, long hair probably light colored. He was tall and thick, his body a testament to the male physique. On top of that his back stood straight despite his relaxed stance speaking of an elegance she'd never mastered.

"Save the boy!" The voice shouted now. Her vision cleared and—

Ginny woke up alone in her dorm room, sunlight streaming in through the window. Tears rimmed her eyes and her chest ached with the pain of a thousand knives. So many dead, too many innocents' dead.

God would this war ever end?

* * *

A cacophony of sounds surrounded her. Her classmates voices all blurred into indistinct murmurs, as if her ears were full of cotton. Their faces and bodies, as well, were merely colorful blobs that danced across her vision as she blankly stared around the great hall.

She blinked her eyes, trying to bring the world into focus, but it didn't work. The blobs continued to speed past her as she idly sat, playing with her food. She could hear her mother's voice scolding her in her head but paid it no mind. She didn't feel like eating, she didn't have to eat. It was merely something for her hands to do. She moved the food around her plate, pushing it from one side to the other while her thoughts drifted back to her dream.

Save the boy, save the boy, save the boy. What did it mean? Who was the boy? How would or could she save him? It all made no sense. First of all she knew many boys. Harry, Ron, Fred, baby Teddy. Which one had to be saved in order to save them all? Second of all how could saving one boy save them all? What was this boy Voldemort's secret weakness?

"Ugh," she groaned in frustration as she stood. She threw out the food on her plate and began making her way toward the exit. It still felt odd to not have to push past crowds of people to get through the halls. Her whole world was changing and she hated it. She wanted Hogwarts to be Hogwarts. She wanted her friends back. She wanted everything to be back to normal again.

She sighed wearily and rubbed at her forehead as if to ease the mind splitting headache that had lodged there. Footsteps sounded down the hall and suddenly the pain in her mind exploded. It cracked to life, moving at lightning fast speed from her forehead to the back of her skull. So strong that it caused her to cry out in pain and fall back against the wall, clutching at her head.

White noise filled her ears except for the pounding sound of the approaching footsteps. They only got louder as the person drew closer. And they seemed to be stepping in time to the pounding in her head.

Oh God make it stop. She begged silently, but it only got worse. A bolt of pain shot through her chest, squeezing at her heart as if wishing to drain it of blood.

She doubled over as if she'd been kicked in the stomach. Her breath whooshed from her lungs and then a voice. The voice from her dream, "save the boy," it urged, yet again.

And then, just as quickly, it was gone. The pain slipped away, the echo of the voice slid into silence, as did the footsteps.

She sucked in ragged breaths and pushed her hair out of her eyes. Only to be confronted by black dress shoes. Oh Fuck.

She slowly, oh so slowly, drew her gaze up, afraid to recognize who stood before her. Her eyes skimmed up over calves, knees, and thighs. Up and up and up over stomach and chest. Jeez he was tall. The thought skittered through her mind unconsciously. But it drew her interest. Tall and broad, the idea made her shiver. Her stomach seemed to melt a bit at the thought. Too intrigued not to look her eyes shot up that final measure. Only to be greeted by an all too familiar, all too annoying, smirking, grey-eyed, tow-headed boy.

"Hmm, what do we have here?" His sneering voice swept over her skin, leaving a trail of goosebumps in its wake. She tried to fight it of, tried to deny it but something inside of her was pulsing with need for him.

"I believe it is the little Weaselette." She stood up a little straighter, ready to defend herself. Or at least she thought.

But when his hands snaked out and gripped her arms, she was defenseless. And when he took it one step further and pulled her against him, she didn't even struggle. To make matters worse she had to bite her lip to hide a moan as her body collided with his.

He was like a furnace, his body so hot it nearly burned her. His chest was like a wall of flames that had her nipples tightening and hardening. She just wanted to rub against him and purr like a contented cat. She wanted to wrap herself around him and forget the world.

His heat infused her. Her breasts tingled and swelled against the lace of her bra. Her insides turned to liquid and a throbbing ache began between her thighs. She squeezed her legs together and a starburst of pleasure erupted inside of her. And despite the fact that she was nearly biting through her lip, a soft expulsion of breath escaped her lips.

"Awfully quiet there. Maybe I was wrong." His breath teased her cheek like a lover's soft caress.

"W-what are you doing, M-Malfoy?" She finally managed to stutter through shaking lips and vocal chords.

He leaned towards her, bringing his lips level to her ear. Her pulse was rioting, her heart beating like a bird desperately trying to escape its cage. She wanted to move closer yet at the same time wanted to push him away.

"Getting a closer look. One can never be too sure." He murmured, his soft humid breath tickled the soft shell of her ear and she melted completely. Her brain went soft, her heart hummed, her breasts became two hot aching points, and her sex was so wet she could feel it soaking her panties.

She opened her eyes, wondering when she'd closed them, and met his level stare. The minute their gazes met it was as if time stood still. All she could see were those two blue-grey orbs, so arrogant yet pained. They begged for love and affection.

Her sex sent up a wave of desire. And she couldn't resist anymore. She spread her legs slightly and pressed her sex to his. He was hard. His erection a huge, hot lance that speared her in just the right place.

"Oh," she cried.

A wild look entered his grey eyes and he took two huge steps pushing her backwards, stopping when her back was crushed to the cold stone wall.

"The question that really should be asked is what are you doing? Huh Weaselette?" He angrily pushed his body against hers but her lust addled brain responded as if it were a lover's eager thrust. Her thighs split impossibly further apart, wrapping around his hips.

"W-what do you mean?" Her voice shook and seemed whisper-soft but she couldn't help it. He was too potent. Especially when the hard ridge of his erection was pressed against her soaking wet folds.

"I mean that, the last I checked, your reaction to me was not to moan, sigh, and spread you legs liked practiced whore, Weasley." He punctuated his words with a hard thrust of his hips.

"Oh," she gasped as her head fell back. Her eyes closed as if she were coming, or close to it. She thrust back, rubbing her oversensitive and swollen sex over his, hoping to give as good as she got.

He growled, low and deep in his throat. The result was earth shattering. Her pussy spasmed as if penetrated, her nipples chafed her bra, and behind her closed eyes fireworks exploded. A small whimpering moan slipped past her control and her body went limp.

"Is this the best Potter can do? Is that his new plan huh? To seduce me? Well tough shit. You can tell your precious Harry Potter that if he plans to seduce information from me not to send an inexperienced virgin. I'm used to fucking experienced women." Without seemingly a second thought he dropped her, let her slide down the wall until her ass hit the ground.

"But Harry didn't . . ." It was too late. He was already around the corner.

"Save the boy," the voice came back, whispering across her brain.

"Ugh save the boy, save the boy. Yeah that's all well and good except it doesn't really seem like he wants saving." She muttered angrily as she stood up making her way back to her dorm room.