"Already tried... leave. --Now." A harsh whisper filtered into Abby's dreams. She stirred, pulling the covers over her ear, and nestled her head deeper into her pillow.

"...agreed... wait." A lower, softer voice sounded.

"...just like looking at her face," the harsh voice mocked.

Abby's eyes fluttered open. A light from behind her bed made soft, blue shadows out of the dark curtains and the ornate wooden dresser against the wall. She'd been dreaming of flying, lifting up her arms and swooping from the manor's tower, over the woods and lake and through the clouds. She went still, listening to the voices in the doorway.

"...kill her now."

Lori's voice. Kill her? Abby tensed, heart beating fast, eyes darting around the room. Her room held nothing but a window that wouldn't open, a dresser she couldn't move, two end tables and the lamps they'd adhered to the top of the tables. She hated this room.

"...better... together," Lee's voice soothed.

Abby's heart continued to race, her limbs tensing to flee. Slowly, the light in the room grew dimmer and smaller, shrinking as it left the corner of the dresser and highlighting a sliver of the curtain before disappearing altogether. The door shut. Abby squeezed her eyes shut. Was this it? Were they in her room, looming over her bed, wands in hand?

Footsteps faded down the hall.

They were leaving. Abby let out a breath, repressed a sob. She counted to sixty, then threw off her covers. Her feet hit the plush rug, and she dragged one of the blankets and her pillow with her, pausing to open the door a crack and look into the dark hall.

Empty. Quiet. The clocks ticked a floor below.

She flew down the hall.

She knocked gently on Calix's door. Their short conversation threaded in fragments in her head. Can I stay. Did they- yes. Abby set her pillow on the window seat in his room, curling up with her blanket on the soft, narrow seat. Abby glanced at him curled in his own bed, his large frame occupying less than half of the space, the covers pulled up to his ear. They both breathed and slept and ate in this house but tried not to exist in it, pretending that if they only ventured into certain rooms or claimed certain chairs, the house would spare them in the end. It might chew them up, but it would spit them out and let them go.

Time slipped by hazily. She turned, finding a second pillow in her arms. To cry in, Calix had said. Such a gentleman, she'd countered. Abby hugged it to her, watching the world outside his window. In her reflection, her blond hair curled around her face, framing her light brown eyes, upturned nose, and small round chin. She traced the embroidery on her nightgown, knowing without looking that unicorns pranced in rows along the edge.

The wind howled, blowing white petals against the pane.

Abby tilted her head up. The petals swirled and danced, pressing against the window and glowing bright.

"Do you see the snow, Calix?"

He did not respond. She shrugged off her blanket, feeling too warm. The house elf must have lit the fires.

"Calix?"

Abby glanced over her shoulder. The bed was gone. Calix was gone. She started, her legs falling out from under her as the window seat disappeared. She braced her hands against the window, staring at the large, shadowed living room. Someone had left a small light on in the kitchen. There was the sofa, the armchairs, the floor pillows, and the front door. The fireplace loomed dark and empty, taking over most of the wall. Glasses and dishes cluttered every surface. She let out a shiver.

"Calix?" Abby whispered, tiptoeing around the sleeping forms of her friends. Moira was curled up in an armchair, her brow furrowed in sleep. Ari had made a bed of pillows on the floor, her jacket worn backwards over her arms, dark hair spilling over the collar. Fauna and Tia slept on the sofa as if they'd never left since the game, slouched in seating positions, Tia's head resting on Fauna's shoulder and Fauna's head resting on Tia's head. Fauna dreamed with a slight smile.

Nick snored nearby. Virgil had claimed the guest room all for himself, and Abby peeked in on him, his impish face no less impish in sleep.[1]

No Calix. And where was Sasha?

Abby glanced at the kitchen, where the light slowly dimmed. She picked her way through the pillows and scattered cushions, the blankets snagging at her feet, her nightgown catching on the coffee table.

"Sasha!" She called in a whisper. The light in the kitchen faded to a pinprick.

A cold wind blew in from the picture window. Abby paused, staring at the lack of glass separating the living room from the damp courtyard below. The stars shimmered in the night sky. Abby shook her head, holding her arms as the wind howled. She never saw stars in London. She'd seen stars every night at the Lilly lakehouse. She shivered again.

A feather drifted inside the room. It swept around the chairs, dipped over the pillows, and fluttered around her head, a dark and ragged thing against her light hair. Abby swatted at it, and it stuck to her hand.

More feathers flew in, all shapes and colors, layering on the coffee table, nestling on the fireplace mantle, settling on her friends.

They remained completely still, not even stirring. Nick had gone quiet. Somewhere, a clock ticked.

She bent to shake Nick's shoulder. "Wake up, and say something lewd, silly boy," she told him, her voice shaking.

His face was pale, his eyes remained closed. A feather rested on his cheek.

"Raine!" Abby called, tripping over the pillows on her way to her friend's door. "Raine, something's wrong!"

A sound like rain started in the courtyard outside, pattering against the stone ground.

Hoo, hoo, hoo.

      Tick, tick, the clock ticked.

Hoo-hoo-hoo.

Hoooooo.

      Screeeeeeech!

Abby flinched, her hand on the doorknob of Raine's room, struggling to open it.

Shoulders hunching, she risked a glance behind her just as the owls flew in. They flew in silence, their wings cutting through the air, their talons outstretched. They plucked at the pillows and shredded the upholstery. They tilted their heads and looked at her sleeping friends.

Raine's door would not budge.

Abby picked up the empty popcorn bowl, and chucked it in their direction.

"Get out of here!"

The owls flew up, chiding her in hoots. One darted close, plucking at her hair as Abby cringed. Another tore her sleeve.

"Out!" She swiped a fist at them.

Hoohoohoo, they laughed.

Thud thud thud, someone knocked on the front door. The owls fell quiet.

Abby froze.

THUD THUD, the knocking intensified.

Stirring up her courage, she ran, covering her head with the pillow. The door opened at her touch.

A girl stood there, scowling. Her face looked much like Abby's, though her eyes were darker. She stood a few inches shorter, with the same slight build. Her long, auburn hair was parted down the middle and fell in waves over her flowery dress. She wore a thin headband across her forehead.

Abby let out a breath of relief. "Did you-"

"I like birds. The owls are all you," the girl accused, hand heavy on Abby's shoulder. "Let's go."

"Just," Abby gestured at her. "Work your magic. I can't leave them!"

The words, the cry sounded so familiar. I can't leave... I can't go...

The redhead looked past Abby's shoulder, her expression grave.

Abby glanced back. An owl hovered over each of her sleeping friends, talons curled in the air. Several dove against Raine's bedroom door, thudding against it, shaking themselves off, and trying again.

"Maybe you don't have to leave all of them."

Abby squinted at a figure in the dark.

Hoo hoo?

The birds hooted, ruffling their feathers. One by one, they turned their talons toward the lost boy.

1.	This is just dream-Abby's interpretation of all their sleeping arrangements, fyi!

Virgil was dreaming.

He must have been, because, for some reason, he was walking on the moon in his best pair of periwinkle pyjamas. With a jolt of surprise he realised that this was not his first dream in recent weeks to prominently feature the moon - not even the first lucid dream. The wizard blinked sleepily out into the yawning black of space, thousands upon thousands of stars glimmering at him like sentient eyes awaiting a reaction. His gaze shifted upwards towards the marbled sphere of planet earth. Silence prevailed, a silence the likes of which Virgil never experienced in the waking world as a result of his sensitivity to thoughts. It was peaceful.

Perhaps he could stay here forever. Except, there was an odd sensation creeping up on him, of eerie anticipation.

No. No, this was an unnatural place for any living creature to exist. Grey rock and endless dark heavens. Or both. If he was going to lucid dream tonight he might as well wander to better sights. He rubbed his eyes sleepily and then raised his arms, fingers splayed, concentrating. A red lacquered door appeared in front of him. Virgil reached for the brass handle and pushed through.


Blue skies. A pretty girl with dark brown hair, running through a garden in the height of summer. The aroma of honeysuckle came as a shock, the sound of girlish laughter a pleasant surprise. He recognised Adrestia, dressed in a paisley frock and hiding from what looked to be a giant pink rabbit. They were having fun. A strange but good dream, and he left her to it before she recognised an unwelcome crewman.

Loud, oppressive music. Sledgehammer metal. Virgil stepped into a teeming crowd of party-goers, packed together so tightly that he couldn’t quite tell whether they were in a flat or a club. That pungent and familiar scent of alcohol, exacerbated by bodies pressed together. Making her way through it, Moira McBoid - she was hyperventilating, she couldn’t escape. For a moment Virgil considered wrenching her out of this nightmare. Then he remembered she had hexed him rather remorselessly earlier that night and he decided, no, he would let her subconscious run its course.[1]


Oh. His bare feet found purchase on smooth floors and plush rugs. This was the flat in Hiraeth, except it wasn’t, was it? Nothing looked proportionately right in the way they never do in dreams. There was something wrong about this mind, about its very texture, like breathing dust in the air. Virgil found himself surrounded by shadow and suspended eddies of feathery down.

He focused on bringing up his own safeguards, the air around him shimmering as he stepped out into what little starlight there was. The pallid forms of his friends slept on lifelessly beneath sharp-beaked owls, who hooted shrilly at him, ready to attack. Virgil held out a hand and forced them motionless. Nasty creatures when they were vexed.

His mind was seeking out the Dreamer, drawing his careful gaze to the blonde girl at the front door. Abby Reid. The other girl was... almost Abby. There was an aggressive aura about her. Distinctly foreign to this mind because it recognised his intruding presence almost right away.

"I think you're having a bad dream, Unicorn Girl." Virgil didn't open his mouth to speak, he wanted the red haired girl to know he had the capacity to change this dreamscape if necessary - his idea of whistling in the dark.

Standing across the room from her, he bent at the waist into a theatrical bow. "May I be of assistance?" the Legilimens held out a hand that barely stuck out from the sleeve of his oversized pyjamas.

1.	With permission from Lyn!

The figure pushed out his hand. His overlarge sleeve sliced through the darkness and disturbed the dusty air, a blue beacon of whimsy stilling the hooting and flapping of the owls.

Abby stared at Virgil, shrugging off the hand that had tensed on her shoulder.

I think you're having a bad dream, Unicorn Girl, he spoke in her mind.

As he bowed, his hair fell forward, light as the down of a pillow.

Abby edged toward him, glancing at the owls still suspended in the air, their beaks open in offense. Her friends remained frozen, yet here was Virgil, pale but bright.

"How did you...?"

"You should be asking how he's here," The redhead hovered in the front doorway, shooting him suspicious glances.

"I'm dreaming him, Flower Girl," Abby glanced back at her.

"No, he's really, truly here." The girl tapped her own forehead. "It's crowded enough, sharing with you."

"But I share with you," Abby smiled. She looked at Virgil, and strode forward, grasping his hand. It felt solid in her cold palm.

Flower Girl shut the door to the flat behind her. The ends of her dress were made of white petals that drifted and floated around her feet. She crossed her arms, watching from afar.

Both young women appeared articulate and aware, which perturbed him. People generally dream with their subconscious selves - lucid dreaming was rare. Their interaction reinforced his notion that Flower Girl was an external presence. He squeezed Abby's hand when she took his, willing warmth into her cold fingers.

"She's right," he told Abby without looking away from the other entity. "I'm not a dream. Dream me is asleep in another room."

Insofar as his senses could tell anyway, considering he had no desire to personally observe that version of himself. It was always a little disturbing to see how other people perceived him and he had noted some grotesque images in the minds of peers at Hogwarts.

Virgil tilted his head to the side, addressing Flower Girl. "I don't like you. Please leave..." he raised his unoccupied hand and, quick as blinking, a redbrick wall appeared between them and her. It would hold against assault, although he suspected she wouldn't try it in spite of his rudeness.

Good, some privacy then. Virgil turned to look at Abby properly, her blonde hair softly glowing  in the dark room: as golden as his own. The sleeping forms looked dull in comparison. This was Abby from his vision - and yet the Abby in the waking world had red hair. Not Quite Abby.

"Would you like to wake up?" Careful as can be, he gestured at her visage and a lock of hair tucked itself behind her ear. "Or would you like a nice dream? It's been a while but I can make you one before I leave."

He could wrap this place up and leave it in the back of her mind, where it could unravel at a more manageable pace. That wouldn't stop Flower Girl from moving freely but it would give Abby a good night's sleep.

"Sure you are," Abby gave him an indulgent smile as he squeezed warmth into her fingers. "We're all real here."

Herself, flower girl, the pillows, the suspended owls - everything was real. She glanced at the redhead leaning on a patch of wall that had turned to gray stone. The girl's presence acted as a reminder that something was a little off in the world, or in her dream, which was the same thing. Everything was real.

Her eyebrows shot up when a red brick wall reared out of the floor, cutting Flower Girl out of sight.

"Virgil!" Abby scolded, a surprised giggle threatening to escape from her pursed mouth. "Be nice to... Moira." A flicker of confusion crossed her features. She meant someone else. She also meant Moira, snoozing in the arm chair.

Her hair settled around her ear at his gesture. He'd just asked something. What was it? Out of the corner of her eye, a small, gray shape skittered around the stacked plates resting on the coffee tables, and flies buzzed over the clustered glasses. Abby stared at the dishes that seemed to grow taller as she looked, encrusted with mold and rotting fruit. Poor Jeeny just couldn't keep up with it all. The house elf's sobs echoed out of the dark kitchen. Abby peered over Virgil's shoulder, frowning.

"I'd like to not be in this house," she nodded. In the next moment she stood close to the open window, glancing at the pavement and grass far below. The moon lit the large lake, the islands, and the sparse woods curving around the Lilly's land. Abby's vision flickered, and the lake glittered a softer blue, the islands sinking into the water. The trees in the woods grew tall and gnarled. Her hand drew back as the frame of the window curved against her fingers and arced gracefully over her head.

Behind her, a fragment of ethereal music drifted, though she couldn't pick out the words[1]. The smell of gillyweed smoke stung her nose. A fire crackled, the flames snapping louder than the young voices in the room. The fire disturbed her. Too loud, too close. She didn't dare look behind.

She was still in a tower, but it was not a tower she knew or a view she'd ever seen. Abby swung Lost Boy's hand gently as she kept her gaze on the stars.  They were always the same, just so far away.

1.	Woke up to a Storm

            "Virgil! Be nice to... Moira."

He couldn't help but laugh, his sleepy red mouth easing into a fond smile. Even in her bemusement Unicorn Girl was sweet in both realms of the conscious and subconscious. "I'm not nice to boring people." Virgil replied softly before holding on to her hand a little tighter.

They didn't move so much as the room around them seemed to melt, to slip away and bring them closer to the aperture before which rolled an eerie night time landscape. He could feel the changes seeping outwards from the direction of Flower Girl. Sad, rotting changes.

He could taste it on his tongue. Like cloyingly sweet tea brewed too long, too bitter. It wanted to tease his own grief out of his chest but he'd sealed himself off from influence, focused on following Abby's movements instead.

Virgil recognised the view before them. Had seen it a number of times, at inter-house parties or when he visited cousin Alex. It was the view from Ravenclaw tower - and that, that was the Great Lake. The Forbidden Forest. Hogwarts. The hairs on the back of his neck prickled uncomfortably.

Gillyweed. People speaking. This wasn't an Abby memory. Worse, it wasn't a memory he thought she wanted to see.

"Tell me where you want to go." Virgil leaned into her, whispering urgently as Abby continued to stare at the starry heavens, their blonde crowns nearly touching and his warm breath at her ear. They had to escape Flower Girl's dream. "Anywhere. I'll take you there, I promise, but you're going to have to hold on very tightly Unicorn Girl. There is no pixie dust in this world ."

He slipped his other hand around her shoulder, effectively embracing her from behind. His touch was delicate.

As Abby watched the starry sky, wishes emerged as billowing clouds - Aileen smiling under a warm Egyptian sun, Sasha dreaming peacefully over his sketchbook, unicorns flitting free around the stars, and Calix running beside them.

Everywhere she wanted to go was boring, she felt like teasing Virgil as he urged them to leave the tower. All her wishes turned ragged at the edges, tinged with fears. All dreams were dashed so easily.

Except, perhaps, the truly impossible dream.

"Let's go fly with dragons," Abby breathed, turning her head to the side to give him an impish smile of her own. His arm around her felt light but solid, shielding her from the scene at their backs.

"I'm serious, Lost Boy. We can be dragon riders. Burn down a few kingdoms."

The fire bloomed brighter behind them, and the sickly sweet rotting smell faded from the air. Abby's hair began to knit together into a thick braid down her back, and the sleeves of her nightgown split at the shoulders in gauzy bolts of white. Abby braced herself, then turned, facing the curling, blackening canvas walls that burned around them. Smoke crept to the open window like fog.

Though her brow furrowed and her heart pounded at the sight of the flames, she kept her eyes on Virgil's, firelight dancing across her determined face.

"I'm holding tight," she took his hands and gave them a squeeze.

             "Let's go fly with dragons."

Leave it to Unicorn Girl to ask for the impossible. But then again, if there ever was a place for the impossible to happen...? Virgil narrowed his gaze at the back of Abby's head as the space around them began to change, details seeping in out of existence like they were never there in the first place. She turned around, held his hands. Prepared.

Alright. Dragons it was.

He stared blankly at her and then, eyes glazing over, through her. Flower Girl was persistent but he could take them away while she was preoccupied with her Tower scene. The window dissolved first, pooling like liquid and trickling away to reveal a medley of miscellaneous thoughts.

Virgil was out of practice. His jaw drew taut, grip tightened. The blackened walls and high ceiling began to flake, ashes evaporating like finely falling snow in reverse. Even as he stood with Abby, he was carefully reaching into her subconscious and discovering preconceived manifestations of dragons. The trick was to use what was already in her head.

Something hot trickled down his lip, and Virgil realised that his nose was bleeding both here and in the waking world. Woefully out of practice.

Without warning, the floor disappeared and they fell, their stomachs lifting. They kept on falling, first in total darkness and then - as glimmers of light appeared one by one - in the starry night sky. They fell and fell until they weren't falling at all. Simply suspended in the air. A cold breeze disturbed their sleeping clothes.

No, not a breeze: the fanning of great, leathery wings not far from them as a Hungarian Horntail soared past over a lush green landscape. No doubt ready to scorch some unsuspecting kingdom. Virgil let go of Abby and wiped his face with the sleeve of his shirt.

It felt incredibly peaceful up here. "Here we are," he stared after the Horntail as both dreamers continued to float. Abby's clothes would change to suit the dream but his periwinkle uniform remained.

"We had better catch up, don't you think? If you want to ride that thing."

Virgil was a super wizard. As he closed his eyes and concentrated, Abby lifted his hands to check for gillyweed hidden in his sleeves. Empty! He must have smoked it all.

When the floor fell out beneath them, her hands jerked, but she held on, eyes widening as stars winked and glittered in the dark night. The breeze ruffled her hair and dress as great wings flapped nearby. After the silent descent of the owls, Abby welcomed such a sound.

Virgil let go of her hands. Abby tilted her head, concerned, spotting the blood under his nose. He wiped it away, and the sight faded from her mind.

Holding out her arms, she twirled as she floated, catching the bright stars in her fingers. They brushed like moths against her palms.

"It will come to us," she smiled at Virgil, who was really sweet when he wanted to be. "It was impressed by your show."

Her grin widened when the dragon swooped closer, the grass appearing beneath it in patches and wildflowers as it flew.

"Take a bow!"

Abby curtsied to the dragon, her braid hanging over one shoulder, her dress fluttering. The air rushed under her feet, then settled and stilled.

The Horntail rose beneath them, catching them on its massive back. Abby clung on.

"Hold on tight, there's no pixie dust way up here," she ordered Virgil cheekily, glancing over her shoulder.

For a moment, she wasn't sure if it was super-Merlin-Virgil, or high-on-gillyweed Virgil, or another version of Virgil, but all versions were good. Abby looked ahead as they sailed the stars. The scale Abby sat on curved like a saddle, and the spikes she grasped felt soft as a horse's mane.

"Follow me!" She called to the stars blurring past.

"Come catch me!"

The words felt familiar and joyful. The stars galloped and hopped in the air, tumbling together to form a ball of light. It floated far above Abby's head as she flew, brightening the lush meadows and hills below.

"Ground rules," Abby leaned forward, gripping the soft spikes.

"No hurting unicorns, or horses, or any animals, really."

The dragon blew out a breath through its nose.

"I hear you, but you're an animal too. You're only allowed to eat bad people."

They soared just under the clouds, and dipped lower at the sight of a village ahead. She spotted people through the windows of their cottages, tucked in canopied beds that blocked the sunlight. Abby pressed her heel into the dragon's side, urging the creature on with a touch of unease.

The dragon's throat rumbled.

"Noooo," she warned. "We don't know them. No burning. Wait."

They soared over a grove of trees that turned into a patch of woods that turned into The Woods, where Abby had once tried to escape. Beneath the trees, the roots coiled in thorny tangles, covered in a thick, green sludge. Abby listened for birds and the thundering of hooves, but heard none.

The dragon rumbled and grumbled.

"Go ahead!"

Fire rushed out of the dragon's mouth, burning the leaves, the branches, and the bark off the trees until they stood skeletal and bare. Heat rose up in waves. The acrid smell of spilled potions stung her eyes, then faded, and Abby let out a breath of relief. No more days in the tower, measuring ingredients and helping Lee brew.

Beyond the woods, the Lilly Lakehouse loomed impossibly tall. Its spires pierced the clouds.

Abby pushed down a flutter of fear. She had the wind at her back and a dragon beneath her and the sun shining above.

"Still there?" Abby turned her head to the side. "Lost or found?" She teased, willing to accept either reality.

Like slowly relinquishing the strings of an instrument, he felt the tension leave him as Abby's dreamscape came to life of its own volition. Virgil could sense the physical relief in both his dreaming and waking self. He couldn't help but let out a cheering whoop! as the Horntail circled around to bear them on its ridged back.

            "Hold on tight, there's no pixie dust way up here," warned unicorn girl.

Virgil laughed and closed his eyes, feeling the cold night wind in his face and the steaming hot warmth of the dragon beneath them. Abby's good dreams were nice. Full of liveliness and playful, tender beauty.

As she chatted away with her scaled stead, he decided that it was time to go back to Neverland. Leave her to some privacy. He needed to get some actual sleep before the morning as they were expecting him at Stardust for rehearsals to perform Shakespeare in the Park. The very thought of waking world obligations sobered him.

Columns of flame were streaking down to the countryside when Virgil stood up on the back of the dragon and allowed himself to drift backwards into the sky. He was replaced, almost instantly, by his Other Self, as imagined by Abby. No longer in periwinkle blue.

            "Lost or found?" was the last thing he heard before a bright red door appeared in the night sky, waiting to welcome him back to familiar shores.

Lost, thought Virgil. It was better to be lost than found.