"I’m in a field, and you’re in front of me, looking away across the grass, and you’re holding a little girl in your arms. She... she can’t be more than four and she has the most beautiful, long red hair that’s tangled up in her arms that are around your neck. Not red like the Weasley’s - not ginger, not orange. Red like autumn leaves. And I can’t see her face, even when I try to walk in front of you, you just end up turning away from me so that I can’t, but even then I know that she has... I know...," he stuttered, "And across the field there are... there are two more...," he cleared his throat, "Never mind," he muttered, averting his gaze for a moment before looking back to Harry, "In this dream, you always eventually look at me, and suddenly the girl is gone, and her red hair is blood pouring out of your throat and then... then I wake up," his lips wobbled subtly, and he inched closer so that their faces were so close that Harry couldn’t focus on him anymore without sending himself dizzy, "I feel like I’m losing you with every day that goes by," Draco’s voice broke slightly, and he began to cry in earnest though he continued speaking as if he wasn’t, "Like we have an expiration date.