Take this kiss upon the brow!

And, in parting from you now,

Thus much let me avow:

You are not wrong who deem

That my days have been a dream;

Yet if hope has flown away

In a night, or in a day,

In a vision, or in none,

Is it therefore the less gone?

All that we see or seem

Is but a dream within a dream.

I stand amid the roar

Of a surf-tormented shore,

And I hold within my hand

Grains of the golden sand-

How few! yet how they creep

Through my fingers to the deep,

While I weep-while I weep!

O God! can I not grasp

Them with a tighter clasp?

O God! can I not save

One from the pitiless wave?

Is all that we see or seem

But a dream within a dream?

~ Edgar Allen Poe, A Dream Within a Dream

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Draco Black was not having a good summer.

In fact, if there were a worst summer ranking, his summer would be right up there as a probable winning contestant. Things had started off innocently enough. He'd left Hogwarts and met Tracey Davis in Hogsmeade. She had brought along several things relating to Muggle culture and they had grabbed a quick lunch so that Tracey could explain a few basic things before they ventured in the Muggle world. Draco was an attentive student, taking in the information with a blank face and nodding when appropriate.

When they left Hogsmeade, things continued relatively well. Tracey helped Draco buy a Tube pass, charging it up with enough cash that he likely wouldn't have to recharge it for the rest of the summer (though she explained how to, in case he needed to). They took the Tube to central London, where Tracey had found a reasonably-priced flat of a university student away for a summer internship. The student met the two of them at the flat and showed them around before they negotiated the rent and settled the deal. It was made clear that anything in the flat was available for Draco's use, including the food and cleaning supplies, except for the student's personal possessions placed in a locked bedroom. Draco let Tracey do most of the talking, as he barely understood a word (refrigerator? new appliances? laundry machine?). She assured him the price was very good, and the space was clean, if small.

The student handed them the key and left with a smile, first month's rent in hand. He didn't even have to sign anything, as apparently Tracey's older sister was his new landlord's close friend.

Tracey began a second house tour, this one specifically geared toward the house's technology. Draco learned about light switches, how to use the bath, the various gadgets in the kitchen…it was a novel experience. Draco was amazed at the Muggle technology. Sure, some things were less efficient (namely, laundry) but overall, he was impressed.

Draco unshrunk his trunk after removing it from his pocket. It was locked with multiple privacy charms, so he had no apprehension about leaving it in plain sight. He unlocked his trunk and hefted a small purse of several thousand pounds, sufficient to live out the summer. At Tracey's urging, he withdrew five hundred pounds and they left the flat.

Tracey introduced him to all the relevant areas nearby, as well as the shopping centers where he could buy clothes, food, and other necessities. Draco made some basic clothing purchases, they ate dinner out, and then Draco walked Tracey to the Tube, where she headed to her home for the night after they agreed on a meeting place and time for the following day. Draco returned to the flat and began casting basic magical protections and wards. He made sure to erect a ward that allowed him to cast magic inside the flat without it being detected as underage magic. All in all, Draco was not overly thorough on the protection wards, because no one would look for a former Malfoy in Muggle London.

That was likely the start of things taking a turn for the worse. However, Draco was blissfully unaware and slept well in the flat's spare bedroom.

The next morning, things continued along a similar track. Tracey introduced Draco to the wonders of a mobile phone, the Internet, and television. They went to the nearest mobile service provider and opened an account for Draco. He decided to select the cheapest phone, knowing that when he returned to Hogwarts it would be useless. Fortunately for Draco, the cable and internet services were already provided and paid for in the flat, as he likely wouldn't have indulged in them if he'd been required to pay. The previous day's instructions on laundry and cleaning were put to use, and Draco discovered that he absolutely abhorred cleaning and especially laundry. He didn't intend to do it again for the duration of his stay, preferring simple charms to the manual labor.

Next on the agenda was cooking. To his surprise, Draco greatly enjoyed the task, finding it comparable to potions. Tracey, who deemed herself a decent but basic cook, admitted that his skill at cooking probably surpassed her own already, simply because of his precision when following recipes.

Days passed and Draco adapted to the new lifestyle. There were occasional moments where he was completely baffled by some element of the Muggle lifestyle, but for the most part he was able to blend in fairly well.

Tracey began to search for summer positions that Draco could manage with his tentative grasp on Muggle experience, and lack of job experience in general. It was difficult, but eventually they found an older couple, Mr. and Mrs. Evans, who owned a bookstore and small cafe and were looking for temporary help while their eldest daughter was recovering from an accident. They agreed to hire Draco and he worked there in the afternoons and evenings, when one of the owners was vising their daughter.

After Draco had obtained a job, Tracey had stopped visiting Draco every day and they instead communicated via text message whenever Draco had a question.

It was mid-July when the trouble-free routine ended, and the hellish summer began.

He had gone for a jog in the nearby park that morning, taking in some fresh air and getting out of the flat, where he spent most of his time when he wasn't at the bookstore. He was enjoying the quiet morning until, all at once, he wasn't any longer.

Likely, he was no longer enjoying the morning air because he was face down on the ground with a splitting headache. He knew right away that this wasn't any sort of normal headache: it was too sudden and too intense to be anything but an injury- or magical-induced headache.

Either he had some sort of brain tumor, or his Sight was screwing him over again. Draco would bet on the latter.

He struggled to rise to his feet, but suddenly blacked out.

When he came to, a small group of people hovered over him, speaking obnoxiously loudly and getting too close to him to be comfortable. The pain was gone, as abruptly as it had arrived. Luckily, no one had yet called an ambulance (he didn't need the added expense) and he waved away their concern, stating that he was recovering from the flu.

Draco went straight back to his flat, unlocked his trunk and removed its protective spells, and withdrew the Seer manuscript he had discovered inside the Chamber of Secrets at the end of the last school year. He had remembered reading something about headaches briefly…ah, there it was.

Seer's First Rule: Control the Sight before it controls you.

When a Seer's powers develop or increase in scope, visions are sometimes blocked temporarily because the Seer's Sight is too undeveloped to comprehend the vision. If this takes place frequently enough, the Seer will begin to have painful headaches, which can be life-threatening if not dealt with. To resolve this issue, the vision block must be removed. Several methods of removal have been discovered, but all are dangerous. The first, a Potion, requires rare and expensive ingredients and can only be used if the Seer is of legal magical age and a legacy Pureblood (involving a connection to generations of family magic). Another method, meditative training, is effective but dangerous to the Seer, as it involves deep meditation (notes on page PVII) and immersion into the magical Sight. Such deep immersion can lead to horrific visions, mental stress, injury to the Seer, or even insanity. The last known method, and the most dangerous, is the Immeo Recuso spell, which allows the caster to enter their own psyche and physically dismantle the Sight block.

It is recommended that the Potion be attempted first, if the Seer meets the conditions. Although dangerous, deep meditation is less hazardous than the Immeo Recuso spell and should be attempted next. If all other options fail, the Immeo Recuso spell can be used.

Draco skimmed the rest of the section, but found nothing else about the headaches. As he flipped to page PVII, he wondered why, rather than right after he had been "adopted," he had begun to suffer the headaches weeks later.

Having read the text, he asked for a week off from work. After Draco mentioned that he had collapsed in the park, the older couple readily reassured him that they would be fine for a week, urging him to take care of himself. That being taken care of, Draco gathered supplies for a week's trip outside the city, knowing that seclusion would be necessary if he was fooling around with magic. He headed out to a isolated camping area early the next morning and made sure that there were no other campers nearby, taking time to enter deep meditation.

He should have known better than to continue learning about his Sight slowly, content that the Seer items he had received from Kalistos would be adequate protection.

He didn't immediately notice anything was wrong when he awoke. An intense vision had come over him, longer than any of those he had experienced before. Upon awakening, however, he couldn't remember anything but snatches of color and blurry faces.

However, when he tried to sit up, his entire body was weak and stiff. An aura of magic lingered around his tent, and he found his body…changed. He had lost weight, his mouth was dry, and his voice came out in a rasp.

Draco tried to gather his things, but his physical strength was depleted after a little bit of movement. A sudden, intense burst of thirst came upon him. Reaching into his pack, he greedily drank from the water bottles he had brought along, careful not to choke. Hunger pangs also shook his body, so he ate slowly so as not to get sick.

He had turned his mobile phone off, hoping not to be disturbed, but he reached for it now, intending to call for help. He was unsure that he would be able to hike out, let alone take his gear along.

As he held the power button and the screen switched on, Draco's stomach felt as if it had dropped out of his body. He had come to the campsite at the end of June, intending to stay for a week.

His mobile phone informed him that the date was August 24. It had been nearly two months since he had left London.

To make matters worse, he had no idea what had occurred, or if he would continue to have debilitating headaches.

He immediately entered his contacts menu in his mobile's menu, thumbing down to Tracey's number. Right before he pressed the call button, though, he hesitated.

His mobile abruptly acquired service, allowing flood of voicemails and missed calls to pop up across his screen. Draco quickly tapped a few buttons and listened to the voicemails, frowning when he heard the concern in Tracey's voice. The notion of his Slytherin housemates trying to get in contact with him was concerning, as well.

Removing himself from the panic that threatened to overwhelm him, Draco carefully considered his situation. He wasn't willing to contact Tracey after hearing her messages. If he were to call her and ask for help now, he couldn't imagine her not finding out about his Sight. Despite his current situation, that was a risk he was unwilling to take. Too many people had been filled in on his worrying abilities already.

So, he would focus on assuaging the concern of his housemates and Tracey later. His next task, then, was to find a way back to the flat in London when he was as weak as a kitten.

Draco couldn't dismiss his incredulity at the fact that he had been in some kind of vision-induced coma for two months and somehow was still alive. He hadn't eaten or ingested water for two months, so how could he be relatively healthy? He was weak, but not entirely malnourished or all skin and bones.

He'd had quite enough of the freaky side of magic already. It was beginning to get tiresome.

Heaving himself to his feet, Draco decided he would just have to suck it up and stumble back to his flat as he was. He had two choices: use his half-depleted magic to heal himself, or use it to disguise his pallor and unsteady gait. As he wasn't quite sure what ailed him and had always been piss-poor at healing spells, he chose the latter.

It took most of the day for him to return to the flat. Nearly four hours passed before he made it to the campsite offices, which had originally been a thirty-minute hike. He caught a coach there and took it to the tube station, thankful to slump against a window and let his eyes drift closed.

When he arrived in London, he hopped off the coach, entered the tube station, and took a short ride to the stop closest to the flat.

The short walk seemed to take an eternity. As soon as he made it in the door, he collapsed on the floor, not even capable of taking the few extra steps to the sofa. Sliding his pack from his back, he removed his mobile and sent Tracey three quick texts.

Tracey, I'm fine. Relatively fine. Can't send an Owl; tell Pansy not to send anything to the Aurors. That would completely fuck me over.

I don't know why they want me to stay away from Hogwarts, so I won't take any action yet. I'll be out of touch again. Don't let Pansy do anything stupid.

See you at Hogwarts.

D.B.

Flipping the phone closed, Draco allowed his arm to drop to the ground and he closed his eyes, letting sleep overcome him.

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

Draco woke up the next day close to noon, having slept for just around fifteen hours. His first action was to stumble into the shower, discarding his grimy clothes and sighing with relief as he washed the grease and dirt from his typically immaculate hair.

When he emerged, he glanced at his reflection and winced. He could see his ribs, and his cheekbones were even more prominent than his normal aristocratic look. Dark shadows under his eyes were very noticeable, and his hair had lost its distinctive luster.

He looked like total shit. Pulling on some fresh clothes, he meandered to the kitchen and cooked a hearty lunch, taking his time getting it down.

He was completely unsurprised when Tracey barged into the flat. So unsurprised, in fact, that he merely nodded in her direction and continued to savor his food.

She gaped at him for a few moments, taking his gaunt and unhealthy-looking appearance, before sliding into a seat across from him, continuing to study him. "Well, you look like death warmed over." She finally commented.

Draco didn't even crack a smile. "Don't I know it." His voice came out gravelly and deeper than normal.

Tracey winced at the tone, as it sounded painful. "I came over to make sure you were okay, but you really don't look it."

Draco sighed. "If you came here to ask what happened, there is nothing I can tell you. But I do have some questions for you. Any idea what Pansy was trying to tell me? I didn't get any Owls, only the messages you left me. It was something about why I absolutely cannot return to Hogwarts?" He twirled his spoon in his yogurt, staring down at his plate with disinterest.

Tracey frowned at his evasion. "She seemed concerned about this year's Defense teacher. Apparently it's some Ministry worker called Umbridge?"

Draco went sheet-white and swayed on the stool he was perched on, nearly falling off. "Merde!" he swore, French coming out unconsciously in his agitation. "Fils de pute."

Tracey barely spoke one word of French and she had been unaware that Draco did. She watched in fascination as he continued, words spewing forth as he jumped up and paced the kitchen. She could tell from his tone, however, that she probably didn't want to know what it was that he was saying. She gave him some time to vent before clearing her throat. "Black, you do know you're speaking in French, right?"

His gaze whipped to her, anger alight in his eyes, before his brain processed her words. He winced at his lack of control and collapsed on the sofa in the living room, muttering to himself, "This is the summer from hell." A bit louder, he told Tracey, "I am grateful that you came by to check on me, but I'll have to ask you to leave now. Something very important just came up." He grabbed his cell phone and keys and left the flat without a backwards glance, leaving it to Tracey to lock up.

Draco went to Hogwarts immediately, using his unregistered wand to illegally Apparate right outside the grounds. He was so unnerved by the news that he was reacting more out of panic than from rational thought.

Striding across the grounds in an adrenaline-fueled hurry, he entered the castle and went straight to Dumbledore's office, banging impolitely on the door rather than attempting to guess the latest inane password.

Dumbledore opened the door in a few moments, blinking in surprise to see Draco standing at his door. "Mr. Black, what brings you here? You seem distressed."

Draco barely resisted the urge to bare his teeth at the Headmaster, pushing past him into the office. "I need to withdraw from Hogwarts for the next term. Immediately." He practically snarled.

Dumbledore looked closely at his disheveled student, staring as if he could read his entire soul like a book. "Whatever has happened to disturb you, Mr. Black, I can assure you that Hogwarts is the safest place for you right now. Considering the events that occurred at the end of school last term, I cannot in good conscience allow you to leave Hogwarts. It isn't safe."

Draco laughed, a wet sound that barely held back his absolute panic. "Your assurances mean nothing to me. You cannot stop me from withdrawing, nor is my safety your responsibility. Withdraw me. Now."

Dumbledore gave him a look of pity, which made Draco want to strangle the old codger. "I cannot stop you, no…but your legal guardian, Sirius Black, can. And I'm afraid that he will see things rather my way. There is one thing I can do for you, though." Dumbledore reached into his desk drawer and withdraw an envelope. "As I was unaware of your summer address, I planned to send this with Charles on the train. Since you are here, however…I have decided that you will be one of Slytherin's prefects. It will allow you some protection from your housemates."

Stricken into speechlessness, Draco's entire posture slumped in his defeat. He would be hung by his own salvation, and strong-armed into cooperation against his will. And made a prefect on top of that? Great. Just great. "Va te faire foutre. Brûle en l'enfer!" his voice was angry and so very cold. He turned to leave, looked back over his shoulder, and promised with eyes full of loathing, "You will regret this decision." The door slammed shut after him.

It was all Draco could do to make it back to his flat without collapsing into a heap of misery. He was completely screwed, royally and utterly fucked.

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One week later, Draco found himself wretchedly boarding the Hogwarts Express. He had gained back a little weight, but not enough to look healthy. His eating habits had never been all that vigorous, as he frequently forgot about meals and never had much of an appetite.

His sleep had remained troubled, catching glimpses of the two-month long vision in his dreams. He was still unable to clearly recognize what the vision had been about, but he could definitely tell it wasn't anything good.

Stowing his trunk safely away, Draco entered an empty compartment and waited for his housemates. To his surprise, the first person to enter the alcove wasn't Pansy or Blaise, but instead he looked up and met the intensely blue eyes of Charlie Weasley.

The younger Pureblood couldn't hold back a small smile as he took in Charlie's face. Draco didn't give a typical greeting. Instead, he remarked blandly, "Your hair is starting to look a little like Bill's. Planning to let it grow out?"

Charlie chuckled and shook his head, sliding into the seat across from Draco and leaning forward. "Hello to you too, Draco." Charlie took in his haggard-looking face and weight loss with concern. "Are you feeling okay? You look exhausted." His sharp eyes spotted the badge Draco clutched in his hand. "Prefect, eh?" He said nothing about Draco's Muggle clothing, though it was hard to refrain from comments when the clothes suited Draco so well.

Draco raised an eyebrow imperiously. "If that's the polite way to say I look like shit, then you're absolutely right. Look, it's been a hell of a summer and I really don't want to get into it right now." He leaned in closer in case anyone was attempting to eavesdrop. "Seer stuff." He muttered, sotto voce. It was such a relief to be around someone who knew about some of the things Draco had to deal with. "As for the prefect thing…" he made a face. "I would rather do without."

"Got it. You can fill me in later. I'm glad you're relatively okay, though. We were worried after the whole "becoming-a-Black" thing." Charlie leaned back. A comfortable silence fell over the compartment, before the Dragon Keeper laughed to himself. Draco gave him a quizzical look.

Charlie grinned at him. "I was thinking about stuff this summer, about the things you told me when we first met. I was really curious about something. You said that you see people's Voices, and they come out as a certain color. I never asked you…what color is my voice?"

Draco blinked, taken aback by the unexpected question. "It's…red. A rare color. Yours is the only one I've seen." He said finally, a bemused expression crossing his face briefly.

Charlie couldn't stop the smile. Everyone liked to hear they were special, after all. "Red, hm? And what does that tell you about me?"

Draco's silverite eyes met Charlie's blue eyes steadily. "Voice colors have a lot to do with whatever the color is associated with. In your case, red is the color of blood and fire. Blood evokes themes of sacrifice, danger, anger, strength, and other things along those lines. Fire has more to do with love, desire, courage, confidence, vigor, and determination. Just based on the color of your Voice, I would say that you are a passionate person who has good discernment and isn't afraid of taking risks. You know what you want and you go for it."

Charlie listened intently and cracked a grin. "Well, it's certainly more accurate than anything I heard in Divination." He joked. "On a more serious note, though, I'm happy you think so highly of me. Thanks for sharing." He patted Draco's knee.

Draco crossed his arms over his chest. "I mostly gave you the positive side." He warned with a smirk. "But you're welcome, I suppose."

Charlie tilted his head, appraising Draco for a moment. "What about your Voice? Can you psychoanalyze yourself like that?"

Draco opened his mouth to answer, but the compartment door slid open before he had the chance. Pansy, Blaise, and Greg stepped inside, blinking in surprise when they saw Charlie. The redheaded Weasley noticed his hand was still on Draco's knee and pulled it back as if burned.

Pansy didn't stare for long, though, before she dropped onto the bench beside Draco, nearly on top of him. She did give him a knowing smirk, though. "I have half a mind to strangle you, Draco. You shouldn't be here! Not to mention causing us so much worry." She reached up, ignoring his flinch at her proximity, and grasped his face, turning it in her hands. "You look as if you were living on the run for months." She took in his clothes, a plain black tee, jeans, and Converse. "The Muggle clothes are surprisingly a good look for you, though. Leather is smashing with your coloring."

Draco shoved her away, not in the mood for an invasion of personal space. "I'll fill you in later, when we're not surrounded by the entire Hogwarts population." His eyes shifted to his other friends. "Blaise, good to see you."

His Italian friend grinned back at him and exchanged greetings with Charlie as well. "Greg and Theo say hi. They can't exactly be seen hanging around you now, though." Blaise explained. The group chatted amiably for a few minutes about their summers, though Draco remained mostly silent. After Charlie left the compartment for a meeting with the other Professors, Draco finally spoke up a little more. "Thank you for trying to warn me, but it would have been impossible to leave even if I had known earlier." He grimaced. "Sirius is technically my guardian now, and he went along with Dumbledore's 'well-meaning' intentions and refused to let me withdraw. Despite my best efforts, I am stuck at Hogwarts indefinitely."

Blaise hated to be the bearer of bad news, but it was better to come out and say it than prolong the agony. "Look, Draco, that's not even the worst part. Yes, Umbridge is our Professor and she hates you enough to tear out your throat, but…she also brought him along."

Draco bolted upright, eyes wide. "Henry is here?" he gasped.

Blaise sighed. "I saw him getting on the train, Draco. I suppose Umbridge decided that since your dad was no longer interested in what happened to you, it was safe to bring him back. Hogwarts is the best wizarding school, after all. Logically it makes sense. It is his last year."

Draco realized he was still standing and sunk back to the bench, not bothering to remain in the proper posture. "I don't know whether to be upset or relieved about that. I suppose it depends on how much he hates me." His eyes flashed with a deep-seated pain and he promptly lowered his gaze, avoiding his friends' eyes.

Pansy stood up, smoothing down her robes. "I suppose we will figure that out. Draco, you'd better put your robes on. We should probably be going to the prefect meeting."

Draco followed her advice and reluctantly pinned the shiny badge to his robes. As they left the compartment, Draco turned to Blaise and handed him the leather jacket. "Hold on to this. Also, could you go find Luna? I would like to make sure she's okay. It's surprising that she didn't stop by."

Blaise chuckled. "I'll check on her. Have fun, you two."

As they walked down the halls, Pansy ribbed Draco teasingly. "So, Charlie's back for another year. You two have a nice private conversation? It seemed like we were interrupting when we came in back there." She wiggled her eyebrows suggestively.

Draco resisted the urge to roll his eyes. "That was pretty poor timing." He said simply. A door in front of them opened, and Granger and Weasley stepped out. Draco was actually rather relieved to see that Potter wasn't the Gryffindor prefect. He hadn't read the letter Dumbledore had given him, so he didn't know who the other Prefects were.

"Parkinson." There was just enough of an awkward pause that Draco knew Malfoy had been attempted and of course it was impossible to say now when referring to Draco. "Black." Weasley tried to recover, but anyone with half a brain would notice what had just happened. Draco ignored the purple color coming from Ron's lips.

"That's bloody weird even to me." Draco sighed, pushing past the two. Pansy quickly followed him. The two Gryffindor prefects gracelessly trailed after them, eerily silent because of the stifling atmosphere. Due to the events that took place at the end of the last school year, none of them were quite sure how to act around their former enemies.

Too quietly for the Slytherins to hear, Ron muttered, "Great. He's in one of those moods again." Hermione shot him a grim look in response, nodding. Draco was rather infamous in Hogwarts for being a spoiled brat, but even more so for the dark moods he would sink into rather frequently. Usually once or twice every school year, the mood would occur and everyone would know to steer clear of Draco. If antagonized during one of the moods, things would get ugly. Ninety nine percent of the time, the Professors couldn't prove Draco was involved. But everyone knew.

Professors McGonagall, Sprout, Flitwick, and Snape were waiting for the prefects: Hannah Abbott, Ernie Macmillan, Anthony Goldstein, and Padma Patil were already seated in the small room.

Draco didn't listen very closely as the professors droned on about the responsibilities of a prefect: he knew very well how things worked, and his mind was more focused on the knowledge that Umbridge was a new professor and Henry a new student.

Henry Selwyn had once been his best friend and the closest thing he had to a brother. Draco would have done practically anything for Henry; he'd idolized the older boy, admittedly to the extent of a puppy love-type crush.

Draco had assumed Henry considered him at least like an annoying little brother, if not a best friend. When things had gone so catastrophically wrong, he had been crushed that Henry was so quick to blame him and disappear from his life.

Some part of Draco masochistically held himself responsible for what had happened, even though he knew logically that it had in no way been his fault. The blame for that incident could be placed squarely on the shoulders of Lucius Malfoy, but Draco was too naïve to see it for many years. He could look back now and understand that it wasn't his fault, but the guilt was still present and he couldn't quite shake it.

Now, he was unsure what kind of reception he would receive from his once friend. Did Henry still hate him? Or was there some possibility that they could rekindle their old friendship? That uncertainty was eating Draco alive, and he wasn't quite sure which option he preferred.

He was also worried about the headaches, and if he was in the clear now. Even worse, the little bits of the vision he couldn't remember slipped through his dreams as if taunting him. Draco knew that the vision was of immense importance, and it was insanely frustrating to be unable to recall it.

On top of those things, he certainly hadn't expected the hero worship following him as he had walked through the train. It was disconcerting, being the media's darling. In fact, it was dangerous. Because no one knew quite how Draco and his merry band had managed to find out about the Triwizard Cup being a Portkey, both sides were suspicious and wary. If he didn't play his cards carefully, he would be caught in the middle and both groups would see him as their enemy. Draco had to hope that no one would consider Seer abilities to be the source of his knowledge, because he would be in very real danger of losing his life if someone were to find out.

Because of the combination of these things, Draco felt as if everything was spinning hopelessly out of control. Practically nothing had gone according to plan during the Triwizard Tournament, and he was paying the price for poor planning now, it seemed.

He was interrupted from his thoughts by a jab in the ribs from Pansy, who gave him a pay attention look. Draco looked up to see most of the room's occupants staring at him, seemingly waiting for a response. Pansy discretely tapped his leg once, and he would have to thank her for that later because now he knew what to say. "Yes, of course. I didn't realize you required verbal affirmation." His words came out in a sarcastic drawl and he smirked.

The Heads of House didn't seem too happy about his lack of attention, but they let it drop. Draco heaved his attention back to the present, unwilling to let that happen again. "What did I just agree to?" he hissed nearly silently to Pansy.

She rolled her eyes. "We're taking the last patrols every evening during the first week. Figured you wouldn't mind, what with being an insomniac and all."

Draco was about to reply but fell silent, noticing that not everyone in the compartment was paying attention to the professors. One Hermione Granger was watching Draco and Pansy intently, eyes shrewd. "Later," he muttered to Pansy, not too keen on having any sort of serious discussion with a witness.

After a few more minutes the Prefect's meeting drew to a close. Draco quickly got to his feet and headed toward the door, but he was cornered before he was able to escape. Surprisingly, it wasn't Hermione, but Padma who approached Draco. The professors left the compartment without backward glances, but the other Prefects stayed, clearly curious about what was going on. Padma was cautious, as if Draco would attack her any moment. "You know, a lot of people are curious. Rumors have been flying everywhere, but no one really knows the truth. Is the Daily Prophet right? Did you really fight You-Know-Who?" he forcefully pulled his eyes away from staring at her lips, where a mottled green and pink cloud escaped. Huh. That was a new mix. Not very attractive…

Draco glanced around the room uneasily, finding curiosity in every face and little else. "No to the first, yes to the second." He shot back with grim humor. "Not that it's any of your business. Get out of my way." He plucked Padma's sleeve, unwilling to touch her, and moved her aside. Without a backward glance he exited the compartment, trying to ignore Granger's eyes boring into his back.

Pansy followed him. "You owe me one with that save back there, handsome." She joked.

Draco snorted. "Just because Viktor is gone doesn't mean you're a free woman. He'd be disappointed if you decided to dump him, you know."

Pansy chuckled. "If you were actually interested, or ever would be, I would hardly have propositioned Viktor." She gave him an odd look. "You know, one of these days you should actually tell me about why you're so opposed to it. I would guess you are asexual, but you have a surprising knowledge about sex-related things that would be impossible to know without indulging, so that can't be it. Am I just not your type? Or are you gay?"

Draco gave her an incredulous look. "None of the above. Damn, Pansy, you're bringing this up now? You want an award for worst timing ever or something?"

Pansy grinned at him. "It's not so out of the blue when you and Charlie kept getting caught doing intimate things, is it? Can't blame a girl for being curious. You two are hot. I'm so getting an answer about this later, but for now you're right. It isn't the time." She glanced around, noticing that they were nowhere near their previous compartment. "Where are we going, anyways?"

Draco responded tersely, "I told Blaise to find Luna, remember? They're not going to be in the compartment we left. Should be around here." They glanced into a few compartments as they passed before finding the right one.

The two Slytherin Prefects raised their eyebrows at the motley crew inside. Luna, Ginny, Neville Longbottom, Harry Potter, and Blaise. Odd bunch to see together, certainly. Draco pushed open the door and stepped inside. Longbottom watched him warily, but the rest seemed fairly happy about his arrival. He took the farthest seat possible from Longbottom, just to put the kid at ease. Draco wouldn't be apologizing for his past actions, but he certainly didn't have to continue to be a git.

Before they had entered the room, Luna sat on the bench with Blaise and the three Gryffindors on the other. Now, Pansy cautiously took a seat beside Blaise, and Draco stayed near the door, beside Luna.

Luna immediately began chattering about her summer and some creature-hunting expedition she had gone on with her father. Granger and Ron Weasley opened the compartment after a few moments, and there was an awkward pause when they realized the compartment was too full for them to sit. Hermione watched Draco, seeming surprised to see him settled comfortably next to Luna. Draco knew that Hermione didn't much like Luna, finding her too whimsical and illogical.

When he saw Granger open her mouth to begin firing off questions, Draco muttered quietly, "I'm not answering any of your questions, so don't bother asking."

She regarded him seriously. "I'm not going to give up. It's important that I know what happened. You-Know-Who is after Harry, you know." Eventually the four Gryffindors from Draco's year decided to find a new compartment, not wanting to crowd everyone. Ron looked surprised when Ginny opted to stay, but didn't protest. Pansy, happy to have more room, moved to Ginny's side. The benches were really only meant to hold three people, after all. With Pansy, Blaise, Luna, and Draco all on one side, things had been very cramped.

Luna continued her story after most of the Gryffindors left. Luna's voice was an interesting color, pink and yellow swirled together to create a light orangey hue that was fairly unique. Draco half-listened, watching the colors drift in the air absently. Perhaps it was the disturbing visions and the whole two-month-coma incident, but he sometimes wished he could go back to a time when his Sight was simple. When he had only been seeing Voices in color, things had been innocent, fun. Finding out what the colors meant was an adventure, a treasure hunt. Now, he found himself desiring that simplicity.

Draco remained very quiet throughout the rest of the train ride, only speaking when spoken to. He knew the train ride was his last chance at normalcy for a while. As soon as Dolores Umbridge spotted him, all semblance of peace would be over.

Last term hadn't been particularly easy for Draco. His Sight had gone haywire, his place in Slytherin House became shaky, and the pressure his family put upon him had been unbelievable. Unsurprisingly, the term had ended with Draco hospitalized and disowned.

The uneasy feeling in Draco's gut told him that this term might be much worse. Trying to pull himself from the negative thoughts, he absently wondered what Charlie would be like as a Professor. Certainly, he would have a difficult time with some of the Slytherins, who looked down their noses at his family and regarded him as a blood traitor. At least he, unlike his siblings, had the protection of being an authority figure.

Feeling a light touch on his forearm, Draco looked up at Luna, who was regarding him with an odd expression. The others in the compartment were engaged in a lively discussion about O.W.L.'s. In a quiet, solemn voice, Luna told Draco "Your aura is a bit cloudy. It would be good for you to remember that facing your past makes you stronger. In a year, you will be surprised at how much you've grown."

Draco's eyes flared silver in the sunlight as he regarded the younger Ravenclaw. "I suppose it would have caught up with me sooner or later. Best to face it here, with a few rules protecting me, than elsewhere." His lips twisted wryly.

Making an effort to join in the conversation and not wanting to worry his friends, Draco turned to Ginny. "So, how do you feel about your brother being Hagrid's replacement?" he questioned with a smirk.

Ginny snorted. "My brothers are already all over Hogwarts. One more won't make a difference." She responded dryly, her bright blue voice catching Draco's attention. "At least Charlie doesn't stick his nose in my business like Ron does. As if Ron has a right to know about my love life…" She muttered the last sentence, but Draco's sharp ears caught it, and he was certain Pansy, who was sitting beside Ginny, heard also.

Pansy, indeed, had heard and wouldn't be letting an opportunity like that pass by. "Your love life? Ooh, spill. I'm surrounded by snobby boys who think they're too good for love."

A light shade of pink dusted Ginny's cheeks. "Ugh, seriously. I may have a thing with Dean Thomas, that's all. Besides, from what I hear, Draco's the one with the interesting love life." She met Draco's amused eyes challengingly.

Luna smiled whimsically. "You do have a strong connection with Charles." She agreed.

Pansy and Blaise couldn't hold back their identical grins. "Good luck trying to get the icicle out of his ass." Blaise quipped. "Draco's so frigid we've all pegged him for asexual."

Draco quirked an eyebrow. "Must you be so crude?" he remarked, not deigning to respond to the rest of Blaise's words.

Pansy shrugged. "There is something there with him and Charlie, though, or at least there could be. Don't you think so, Ginny?"

The redhead squinted, as if trying to see Draco's soul by looking at him. "There is quite an age gap, but Draco does have that 'old soul' feeling. Charlie usually fancies danger and excitement, but he's never dated a man. I would probably guess he's pansexual, though." Ginny paused, tilting her head. "In the distant future, it's certainly a possibility. Once Draco's of age."

Pansy pouted. "Boo. No hot student-teacher action?" she joked.

Blaise groaned. "Merlin, my ears!" he groaned. "I did not need to know you had weird fantasies about our professors! That's bloody disgusting."

Draco shook his head. "This conversation took a turn from weird to weirder. I blame you." He told Ginny.

Luna smiled dreamily. "Who would match Neville well as a couple?" she asked out of the blue.

The other four swiveled their heads to look at her in surprise. Ginny laughed at the abrupt subject change. "Well, he tends to go for the girl-next-door type, but I honestly think he would be better off with someone who challenged him a bit more. He tends to fade into the background with a bland nice girl like that." She tapped her chin thoughtfully. "I've always wondered a bit how he would be dating a guy."

Pansy sputtered. "Longbottom? I can't see it at all. Well, the gay part I can see, maybe. The actually admitting it, not so much. He'll probably end up with the stereotypical good-girl wife and an office job."

Luna frowned. "He's awkward and shy now, but he won't be forever." Her eyes slid to Draco. "Sometimes it takes boys a little longer to grow up."

Draco's eyebrows shot up, but before he could defend himself Ginny responded. "Who in Hogwarts even is gay, anyway? Any guesses?"

Pansy jumped right on that. "One hundred percent, Cedric Diggory."

Ginny's mouth dropped open. "No way! Really? I would have never guessed. I thought he and Cho had a thing?"

Blaise and Draco exchanged commiserating looks as the conversation continued. Pansy was saying, "I have no proof, but I just know. He definitely is, Ginny. In fact, I wouldn't be surprised if he was interested in Draco. Did you know he offered to be his personal counselor?"

Draco dropped his hands to the bench loudly. "Okay, that's enough! Leave me out of this. Half of the people in this school have a thing for me, and I'm bloody tired of hearing about it. Merde."

Luna patted his knee consolingly. "That's fine. Did you know Professor Trelawney decided to take a sabbatical this term?"

A strange, wistful smile crossed Draco's lips for a tenth of a moment. "No, I hadn't heard that. I'm glad that the Headmaster took my advice, though."

Ginny frowned. "You advised him to fire the Divination Professor and he actually listened? I thought you and Dumbledore didn't see eye to eye."

Draco snorted. "That's because we don't. And I didn't get her fired, I kept her from being fired." His gaze sharpened. "I know of the new DADA professor. She will do her best to get rid of anyone who has a weakness. It's why Hagrid took leave, too. She hates non-humans and Dumbledore, and as Dumbledore's supporter, Professor Trelawney would just be an easy target." Despite his opinion of the woman as a teacher, she didn't deserve to be bullied by Umbridge. No one did.

Blaise agreed. "You know, the hag will probably like Charlie though. He's lucky, because she already likes your brother Percy. Guess being a Ministry peon helps with something."

Ginny's lips pressed into a line at the mention of her semi-excommunicated brother, but she said nothing other than, "I suppose so." She turned to Draco. "I'm curious about something, though. Sometimes you swear in French. Why is that?"

Draco snorted. "Sans blague." At the blank looks, he sighed. "No kidding? That's because I am French." Pushing back some hair that was tickling his jaw, Draco reminded himself to get a haircut soon. He was tired of seeing himself look so similar to Lucius Malfoy.

Ginny snorted at that. Draco cocked an eyebrow at her. "Is that amusing somehow?" he questioned.

She grinned. "Not being French, so much as the mental image of you wearing a beret."

Blaise and Pansy both chortled at that. "Oh, you're so right. It's somehow very entertaining!" Pansy chuckled.

Luna frowned. "I think you'd look dashing in a beret, Dragon." She said seriously.

Draco privately thought that anyone who took fashion advice from Luna was in trouble. "Thanks Luna. The rest of you, you're ridiculous."

While the rest of the group recovered from their hysterics, Luna tapped her chin thoughtfully. "I think I finally figured it out. You're a Slytherclaw, Draco."

The blonde Pureblood gave her a dubious look. Blaise straightened on the bench with a start. "You're onto something, Lovegood. No wonder Drake's so fucking terrifying!" he ignored Draco's muttered 'don't call me that,' and continued, "We always talked about people who could've gone to more than one house. Like Granger, she's totally a Gryffinclaw. A lot of Hufflepuffs and Gryffindors could go either way. As for Ravenclaw and Slytherin, cunning and intelligence together is kinda frightening, like a supervillain."

Ginny looked intrigued. "I've never heard anyone in Gryffindor talk about this before, but I can see what you mean. Luna, you're totally a Ravenpuff."

Luna blinked happily. "I thought so too." She agreed. "I think Harry Potter is a Gryffinpuff."

Pansy agreed. "He's a total sap, so that fits. Certainly can't imagine him giving in to the urge for a good backstab. More's the pity." She winked at Ginny, who laughed. Draco began to get the feeling that he should be a little uneasy around the two should they become co-conspirators. He was getting dangerous vibes from the duo. Considering the invasive way they had been discussing his personal life, perhaps he should give them as little ammunition as possible.

Just then, Draco happened to glance up, and he stiffened in his seat. "I'll be back later." He abruptly stood and exited the compartment, silver eyes locked on the brilliantly green stare meeting his own. As he slid the door shut, he vaguely heard Blaise's exclaimed, "Oh, shit."

A superior smirk. Cold, emerald eyes vivid with color, and chocolate-colored locks styled to perfection. The familiar talisman hung in its normal place over a broad chest. Immaculate robes, tailored and luxurious, covered tanned skin. "Hello, Drake." The voice was velvety smooth, but there was a darker undertone that was disconcerting.

It had been years since he had laid eyes on his childhood friend, but Draco recognized Henry Selwyn in an instant.