Begins in Fourth Year, AU

Draco Malfoy was wickedly intelligent. Although his grades were quite above average, this was not where his genius lay. Instead, his distinctive gifts enabled him to read people, situations, and events with an uncanny instinct. He could take one look at a person and tell you truths concerning their personal lives that would be impossible to know for anyone else.

Draco Malfoy was a Seer. And his Sight saw deeper into people than he could recall ever hearing or reading about. He had read every book he could get his hands on regarding Seers and their abilities. Discretely, of course: it wouldn't do for someone to discover his secret.

It was something that Draco had kept from everyone, save a select few. A Slytherin, after all, knows better than anyone the importance of keeping strengths and weaknesses from the ears of those who are untrustworthy. Ever since the day he and his mother had discovered what he could do…what he was, he hadn't mentioned his unique Sight to a single soul upon her frantic insistence. He was very grateful for her foresight now.

It was difficult to explain exactly how the process worked. If Draco were to describe it, he would explain one prominent aspect: people's voices appeared in color to him. A green voice meant a vibrant, extroverted personality, often cheerful and confident. These people did fairly well in school, but were generally average in grades and excelled more in the social aspect of their lives. Green could also imply cunning, high goals, and powerful connections. Blaise Zabini, whom Draco would tentatively call a friend, was one of these voices. Pink voices implied low intelligence, naivety, or a shallow person. Those like Hermione Granger who had high intellect, tenacious loyalty, or somewhat lesser people skills had yellow voices. Most of the voices in Hogwarts were white, like Draco's own. Draco hated white voices, especially his own. They implied a lack of decisiveness, weak goals, and no strong personality traits. In other words, they had no distinctive personality. The others within Hogwarts fell into three main categories. The majority of Ravenclaw students were yellow, Hufflepuff pink, Slytherin green, and Gryffindor a mix of the three. A few students fell outside these normal ranges, such as Harry Potter: a dull blue implying kindness, bravery, hardworking, or lack of stability.

Every once in a while, when new students arrived, or when he visited Hogsmeade, he would encounter people with voices colored in shades he hadn't encountered before. Also, while many people's colors appeared almost identical, no voice was quite the same. There was always a slight shade difference, all which implied something different. While Draco developed, by this point, a general idea of what each color meant, he was always trying to learn more about what each particular hue meant. It was also true that a person's color could change, although never suddenly. He had noticed that colors changed as the students around him matured and grew older.

Seeing voices in color was not what made him a Seer, however. It was only one facet of a very complex magical ability he and his mother had called Sight, if only for lack of a better term. In all their research, they had never found anything quite like what Draco was able to do, despite the copious searches through the extensive Malfoy library. In fact, the way Voices manifested was rather brilliant: informative, and not invasive to his life. The more annoying bits were the bloody Flashes. Often, especially when confronted with strong emotions, glimpses into people's motivations (or thoughts, pasts, futures, and the like) would overwhelm Draco's mind for several moments. There was one redeeming factor regarding this ability: it could only be triggered by physical touch. Over the years he had learned to conceal the Flashes, but when he was very young, he had seemed very much the distracted, flighty child. Draco's behavior, uncharacteristic of a Malfoy, had driven Lucius mental and resulted in many heavy punishments.

A sneer crossed Draco's cultured features, and he shifted in his seat as he ignored Binns drone on about the Goblin War. It was only the first week back at Hogwarts and he was as boring as ever.

In the beginning, the Flashes had caused him to seem imbecilic, staring into space for several long moments. Before he learned to control the emotions accompanying the visions, he had behaved like a hormonal pregnant woman, swinging from happy to sad to angry within a few seconds. He despised the Flashes: although sometimes they provided key insights into other people that he could use to his own benefit. The prominent reason for this loathing was simple: the Flashes were extremely personal. Often, he learned things that he never would have wanted to know about. He had caught glimpses of many intimate moments, emotional breakdowns, and sickeningly happy and sweet memories.

If there was one way that these abilities had affected Draco, there wasn't much that he hadn't been exposed to at a very young age. In his early years, Death Eaters had been frequent visitors to the Manor, scrambling after the Dark Lord's downfall for a sense of purpose and a next step. As it could be imagined, the personal lives of Death Eaters could include some very depraved Flashes.

Perhaps this desensitization contributed to Draco's monitor of 'Ice Prince of Slytherin.' It was, after all, extremely difficult to ruffle someone who knew a frightening amount of information about any person he came into contact with. The Malfoy heir also had a tight control on his emotions, due to the training he was forced to undergo in order to control himself during the Flashes. The only time he allowed that control to slip was when he was alone with his mother, the only one who knew his situation.

There was one more ability that Draco had experienced thus far, if very rarely. Three times, he had experienced…strange dreams. He was tempted to call them prophecies, but he wasn't sure enough to do so. The first had been vague and confusing, the second frustratingly short, and the third…bizarre, but clearer than the first two.

Because of Professor Trelawney, Divination was a laughingstock at Hogwarts. On the advice of the upperclassmen in Slytherin, Draco avoided the elective and he was glad that he had. There was nothing he could learn from the questionable Seer. No; any learning he desired had and would be done on his own time. While the general information found in texts concerning Divination was useless because of his unique talents, the exercises mentioned for increasing control and expanding the magical core in order to increase Sight were more beneficial.

Binns's lecture had apparently drawn to a close, so Draco gathered his things and stood, exiting the classroom. While there were a few individuals within his house, such as Blaise and Pansy Parkinson that he would consider friends, he did not fully trust them and would never confide in them. The rest of the world, he kept at a distance and could care less about. Draco had been taught from birth to be a chameleon: how to blend in with whatever crowd you needed to impress, and say the right things to make them adore you. Had he desired to make friends, he was entirely capable of manipulating anyone into a friendship. He knew what made people happy, angry, and sad. Such games had never appealed to the blonde Seer, though, so he seemed an enigma to most.

Rich, handsome, charismatic, influential, and aloof…he was the perfect Pureblood catch. Yet, he never seemed to show an interest in anything: not his friends, not romantic relationships, not classes, and definitely not the daily drama that accompanied being in a boarding school. The only thing that seemed to capture his attention at school was Quidditch, which was merely a hobby and a way to pass the time.

This year would be a little different, however. Draco did have one habit that was easy to conceal from his peers: he would find someone whose life or voice interested him, and then investigate them until he understood more about his own abilities. It was one of the few ways that he could entertain himself, as well as benefit himself. So little was known about Voices that he had to learn everything on his own, and this was the most interesting way he had found to do that. This year, Hogwarts would be hosting the Triwizard Tournament. Draco was not excited for the tournament itself so much as the interesting guests the tournament would bring to his school. Surely, in the sea of new people, he would find a few interesting ones to keep an eye on.

As Draco made his way to potions class, he was broken out of his thoughts by a tug on his arm. Turning his head slightly, he made eye contact with Pansy Parkinson, who was saying something, purple drifting from her lips. Her hand was on his arm, and Flashes flitted across his vision…Pansy with her doting parents, learning Pureblood etiquette, at Draco's tenth birthday party, kissing Theodore Nott (now that was a new one). Draco broke the contact and frowned. "What were you saying, Pans? I was lost in thought." Pansy's purple voice was a mix between blue and pink, indicating a hint of immaturity and shallow behavior, as well as kindness and loyalty.

Pansy sighed dramatically. "It's only the first day and you're already being boring!" She lowered her voice considerably. "I was asking what you thought about the Triwizard Tournament. I personally am very interested in meeting the students from Beauxbatons. My parents considered sending me there, so I am curious what it is like."

A smirk slowly spread across Draco's face. "I am quite looking forward to the Tournament, actually. Perhaps it will make this year interesting."

Pansy blinked in surprise. She had assumed, like most other things, Draco would simply dismiss the tournament as insignificant. She smiled brightly at him, agreeing. She worried about him, sometimes. He was so disconnected from his classmates, and so very cold to others. She couldn't remember the last time he smiled or laughed and it reached his eyes. Sure, he laughed at Potter and Weasley to keep up pretenses, but she could tell he honestly didn't care what they did and his reactions to their antics were fake.

Something had always been different about Draco, and she was a good enough friend not to pry into his business. If there was something he wanted her to know, he would tell her. Slytherins knew not to pry into dangerous secrets. They weren't bloody Griffindors.

They slipped into Potions, giving Professor Snape a smirk as they took their seats. Potions was the last class of the day before the welcoming feast, which had been pushed back a day to accommodate the seventh years. The class slipped by quickly. Potions had become somewhat routine to Draco as his godfather and professor were one and the same. Before he began at Hogwarts Severus had been his Potions tutor, allowing him to advance beyond many of his classmates. In fact, Potions was the only class in which his grades were higher than Granger's.

After class ended, Draco cast a quick Tempus spell. An hour and a half before the welcoming feast…plenty of time to compose a letter to his mother and persuade Arcanus* to deliver it. He returned to the Slytherin dormitories with Pansy before excusing himself to write a letter. Even if he had little to say to his mother yet (he had seen her yesterday), she always expected a letter on the first day to ensure things were well. He began to pen the letter in elegant calligraphy with his new quill set.

Mother,

I have arrived safely and Hogwarts and things are well. I anticipate the Triwizard Tournament, and as always I am excelling in my courses. Quidditch practices begin next week, but there will be no matches due to the Tournament.

I hope you are well. Give Father my love.

D.L.M

Sealing the letter with the Malfoy crest, the young Malfoy heir rose from his desk and began the long walk to the Owlery. Crabbe and Goyle joined him as he left the Slytherin common room, flanking him on either side. Draco spared them a small smirk in thanks. Walking the corridors alone as a Slytherin could be dangerous…especially for someone as notorious as Draco Malfoy. The two hulking sidekicks dissuaded many a troublemaker from causing Draco trouble. In return, their father could occasionally ask favors of Lucius Malfoy. The deal benefitted all parties involved.

Though he wouldn't call them friends, Draco did appreciate Crabbe and Goyle's company. Though they seemed like morons concerning academics, the two boys did have keen minds for political games and trickery. Often, he was surprised by their insights. No one knew people as well as Draco Malfoy, and he knew that Vincent Crabbe and Gregory Goyle were much more than they appeared. In public, they rarely talked unless Draco was issuing orders, but in private they had participated in some interesting conversations.

After leaving the letter with Arcanus, the three Slytherins returned to the dungeons to prepare for the welcoming feast. Draco took considerable pride in his appearance. While the welcoming feast was not a formal occasion, it did require something a little extra, more than his usual appearance.

Blaise was waiting in the common room when they entered, reading a book. He stood and smiled. "Draco, I was waiting for you. I need your opinion on my wardrobe." Green drifted upwards from his lips.

Draco snorted. It was well-known that out of nearly every male student in the school, Draco was considered one of the most fashionable. His friends and year-mates often took advantage of that, asking him for fashion advice. "I am not a damn fashion consultant, but if you really can't decide on your own I will take a look."

Blaise grinned. "You know we're helpless without you, Drake!" The dark-skinned boy lead the way to their shared room, and Draco followed. "Don't call me that: just show me what you're deciding between." The blonde sprawled imperiously across Blaise's bed crossing his arms and looking impatient.

Blaise snickered. He would never call Draco childish; the blonde Malfoy was much too serious for that. Sometimes, though, he saw glimpses of the person Draco could have been without the strict Malfoy upbringing. He preferred the person those glimpses showed him. One of the biggest oddities regarding Draco Malfoy was his extreme dislike of physical contact. Blaise had always suspected his father, Lucius Malfoy, had something to do with that. "Here, these two." Blaise held up two silk dress shirts: one a deep purple, close to eggplant in color, and the other a dark scarlet.

Draco glanced at the shirts, grey eyes thoughtful. "Go with the purple one. Both are acceptable, though. Just think scarlet will look odd under green robes. Like you're secretly desiring to be a Gryffindork."

Blaise rolled his eyes. "If you say so…thanks, mate." He shrugged out of his white school shirt and pulled on the eggplant-colored one. Another interesting habit that Draco displayed, despite his discrete attempts to conceal it, was staring at people's lips as they spoke. There was never anything sexual about it, it was just an interesting personality quirk. Something that Draco had precious few of.

Draco lazily crawled to his feet and sauntered to his own trunk, lifting the lid. He pulled a designer black long-sleeved turtleneck sweater free and changed, deciding to keep wearing his school trousers. The sweater was snug enough to display his nicely muscled body, courtesy of Quidditch. Pulling out a mirror and some hair product, he styled his hair into a messy, "just-showered" look. He always fussed with his hair for longer than was truly necessary, and today was no different. Finally, he put down the mirror and turned his attention to his hands. Draco wasn't really the type to wear jewelry, but he did enjoy wearing rings. As always, he had a ring with the Malfoy family crest adorning his right hand. He slipped one other ring onto his hand: a serpent twisting around his left pointer finger. Satisfied with his appearance, he straightened up and reached for his wand, only to notice Blaise had been observing him the whole time.

The dark-skinned Slytherin smiled at Draco's raised eyebrow. "I just wonder how you do it. You're always so put-together and perfect, not to mention intelligent and magically strong. I must admit I am envious sometimes."

Draco sighed. "So is everyone else in the whole school." To Blaise's surprise, there was not a hint of arrogance in that sentence, only wearied acceptance. "It can be tiresome. Bear in mind who my father is, and you will realize that this was never really my choice." He pulled on his Slytherin robes and twirled his wand in his hand as he left the room, leaving Blaise deep in thought.

Crabbe and Goyle were waiting in the common room as usual, dressed in black beneath their robes as well. Draco smirked slightly to himself. Even though Crabbe and Goyle were somewhat pudgy, with Draco by their sides they made quite the intimidating trio. Draco had always taken a little bit of pleasure from that. After all, inspiring fear made others leave him alone…and more importantly, less likely to pry into his private life. As they headed to the Great Hall, Draco caught a glimpse of the Golden Trio coming to the Hall from the opposite direction and mentally sighed. He found the rivalry between himself and Potter tiresome and childish, but in order to keep his father's suspicions away from him, he was forced to play the game.

He schooled his handsome face into a smirk, the customary expression when confronted with Potter and his sidekicks. "Well, well. If it isn't Potter, Weasel, and the Mudblood. I am always baffled by your complete lack of personal hygiene, Potter. Despite the dirt-poor company you keep, you at least have the Galleons to buy some nicer robes. Instead, you settle for…this." Hating the look of his own voice, Draco gestured disdainfully at the rags Potter wore, and Crabbe and Goyle snickered behind him.

Weasley's face turned bright red and he clenched his fist, beginning to step forward. Granger pulled him back, scowling at Draco. Potter, on the other hand, frowned deeply. "Malfoy. Of course I would run into you here. You should learn to keep your mouth shut." A cloud of blue escaped from Potter's lips.

Draco sneered. "What an intelligent comeback, Potty. At least the Mudblood has a brain." He swept past the idiot trio, robes billowing behind him in a move reminiscent of Severus Snape, but not before he noticed the surprise on Granger's face at the backhanded compliment. Inwardly he smiled at her shocked expression. No, Draco Malfoy was not a complete bastard, despite how he acted. After all, he could be taunting Potter about many worse things, such as his treatment at the hands of his Muggle relatives. He had been in enough fights with Potter to have gotten many Flashes of the boy's personal life. He probably knew more about Potter than his own friends, in fact.

He led Crabbe and Goyle to the Slytherin table, taking a seat in the very center. All the students greeted Draco. He was the Prince of Slytherin, and even the older Slytherin students took notice of his influence. He was an important person to impress, for the sake of their futures. The Malfoy name had always and always would carry a lot of weight in Wizarding circles.

Dumbledore then announced the upcoming Triwizard Tournament, and the room went into an uproar. Very few at the Slytherin table looked surprised; most had parents in influential positions that would have heard the news and passed it along to their children already. Dumbledore continued to speak about the Tournament, mentioning that they would have two other schools as their guests and that there would be an age limit to enter the Tournament, all of which Draco had heard before from Father. After warning the students that the Champions who were chosen would stand alone, Dumbledore welcomed the students of Beauxbatons and Durmstrang to Hogwarts.

While the students from Beauxbatons distributed themselves fairly evenly throughout the tables of every house, the Durmstrang boys and girls immediately moved to sit with Slytherin, making the table slightly crowded. Draco scooted to the side to make space for Viktor Krum, who had met his eyes during the dramatic entrance. The famous Seeker extended his hand to Draco. "Viktor Krum." He said in a heavily accented voice, which appeared as a startling shade of gold that Draco hadn't encountered before.

Draco gave a small smile and shook Krum's hand. "Draco Malfoy, a pleasure to meet you. Welcome to Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. I hope you enjoy your time here." Flashes of Quidditch training and learning the Dark Arts floated across Draco's vision at the brief contact. While Draco was unsure what gold specifically meant in a voice, he could infer that it included an intense yellow, which probably meant that Viktor was extremely intelligent and tended to be socially awkward. High motivation to succeed could be assumed as well. He released Krum's hand and turned his attention to the other Durmstrang students who were now introducing themselves.

It was clear to Draco that, despite their young ages, he and Viktor were the recognizable leaders of their schools, or houses in Draco's case. Krum had immediately recognized the same, due to Draco's central position at the table and the attention he received from the other students, who looked to him for the appropriate responses every so often. He made small talk with Viktor throughout dinner, doing his best to seem uninterested in the man's fame despite his admiration of the seeker's skill. While Draco enjoyed Quidditch, he knew that it could never be a career for him because of his Seer abilities. They were too distracting on the pitch.

"I assume that the twelve representatives from each school are the ones who will enter their names into the Goblet of Fire?" Draco questioned Krum quietly. The boy nodded. "Yes, this is so. We were chosen as potential Champions based upon our exam scores and dueling proficiency. Any who is chosen will perform well in the Tasks."

Draco smirked. "I imagine so. I have heard that Durmstrang Institute is much more liberal concerning the Dark Arts. My father preferred to have me complete my schooling in Durmstrang, but unfortunately he listened to my mother's wishes instead. I rather think I would have preferred the teaching style at Durmstrang. Many of the professors here have little to offer." He thought of Professor Trelawney with an inward scowl. How much more could he have learned about his own abilities with a competent Seer as a professor? At least if Durmstrang had no access to such a professor, they would not bother to teach the course.

Viktor Krum nodded seriously. "I have increased my skills greatly during my time at Durmstrang. It is a shame that Hogwarts seems to be falling below their original standards. Though, perhaps, the truly motivated students will still find it within themselves to succeed through personal studies." His voice contained approval as he met Draco's eyes, a slight smile crossing his lips as he complimented the Malfoy heir.

Draco returned the smile, as was customary. "So it seems. I am curious, though, about Bulgaria. Won't you tell me a little about your home country?" He listened halfheartedly as Viktor told many stories about his homeland, although to the observer he would seem to be giving the Bulgarian Seeker his full attention.

After around forty minutes, the feast appeared to be drawing to a close and students began to return to their accommodations. Draco parted from the Durmstrang students on congenial terms with a friendly farewell. While the Slytherins had been perfectly composed in front of the Durmstrang students, they now began to chatter about Viktor Krum and his amazing Quidditch skills.

Feeling a scorching stare at his back, Draco turned to meet the seething eyes of one Ron Weasley, who appeared to be swimming in jealousy if his bright red face was anything to go by. Draco rolled his eyes and turned away. The Weasel was a fame seeker if he had ever known one. It was no wonder he was conveniently friends with Harry Potter, the most famous young person in the wizarding world.

As he headed back to the common room, Draco reflected on the day's events. While the majority of the Durmstrang students had been unremarkable, the gold color of Krum's voice had certainly been interesting. Based on the way the Bulgarian seeker had interacted with him, the blonde Malfoy assumed he would be seeing more of the Durmstrang leader. He was satisfied with this, and looked forward to investigating Krum's personality and the reason for his unique voice color.

Hopefully, he would also get a chance to talk to the students from Beauxbatons, who had been seated on the far end of the Slytherin table and thus were too far away for conversation. He had been focused on Krum too much to do any scouting for other interesting voice hues.

Also, each Task would bring a variety of experts from different fields in. If Draco could somehow find a way to approach these myriad professionals, that would be even more valuable. Other than the Pureblood functions he had attended while at home (which were few in number) and the occasional Death Eater visit, he rarely had the opportunity to spend an extended amount of time around adults, which limited his understanding of Voices and Flashes.

And as always, despite how farfetched it seemed, he was always hoping to encounter someone who had considerable knowledge of Seers and could actually help him. But he knew better than to factor such a longshot into his plans.

Perhaps his Father would be of use in this matter…Draco resolved to write him after classes tomorrow, after Arcanus had returned. Slipping into the common room, he returned to his bedroom and decided to quickly finish off the first day's homework: reading for History of Magic and a two foot Potions essay.

All in all, it had been an interesting day.

Sputtering and swearing impressively, Draco bolted upright in bed, sweat dripping from his brow. What the hell was that?He wouldn't call it a nightmare, because he had felt no terror...but what a bizarre dream!

His mind worked frantically in an attempt to decipher what he had just seen as he slept. He glanced down at his forearm and found it to be covered in blistering burns, just like what had taken place in the dream.

Is this part of my gift? If so, what I saw was real. It could be happening now or it could be the future. But why was I burned? Draco stood, pushing aside the bedcovers and stepping onto the cold floor, heading to his trunk.

At his mother's insistence, after the first "prophecy" (for lack of a better term) he had begun to keep a dream journal. While his mother was not a Seer, it was a gift that manifested frequently in the Black bloodline, and there had been Malfoy Seers generations ago as well.

He quickly began to scribble down his dream. As he tried to recall the details, he realized with certainty that whoever he had been dreaming about, whoever he had been in the dream, was not Draco Malfoy. The hands were too large, the body belonged to someone older and bulkier. There had also been a myriad of small scars along the forearms he had seen in his dream.

What was unusual about the dream was the events that had taken place. He had never seen a real dragon in person, so it was strange that he would dream of one, let alone dream of being a Dragon Tamer. He had, in the dream, attempted to calm the dragon and mostly succeeded, although he received the burn on his forearm for his trouble.

Even more, and frighteningly, when he awoke he was burned. What if he dreamed of someone's death? Would he die, too?

The night air was cool on Draco's skin, and he shivered…not just from the cold. His gifts frightened him, and he couldn't even imagine what would happen if his secret were ever to be leaked. He was an anomaly, and his strange powers would cause hatred and fear.

This was rapidly growing out of control. He had to find some way to regulate this, or his life could be in danger. However, he hadn't been able to do anything on his own. That had already been proven. Additionally, there was no one he could trust with his life that would be of assistance. His mother couldn't help; she had done all she could. His Father would only use him in service of the Dark Lord, and Dumbledore against the Dark Lord. He didn't know if Severus was under his Father's thumb or not. His schoolmates were out of the question; their loyalties were to their families first and he couldn't blame them. He had once been the same. Everyone in the damn school was under the Dark Lord or Dumbledore's sphere of influence.

Draco laughed bitterly. This was ridiculous. Would this really be how he went down? His own magic was killing him. Okay, maybe he was a little hysterical. It was only a burn. But it could have been worse. He had no control!

He bit his lip hard enough to draw blood as he was tempted to burst out in crazed laughter. What was wrong with him? He was acting like some emotional Hufflepuff! Shooting abruptly to his feet, Draco returned the journal to his trunk, grabbed some a quill and some parchment, and recast all his warding and locking spells. In a den of snakes, you could never be too careful. He grabbed his wand and exited, letting the dormitory door shut behind him with a soft click. Casting a Tempus charm, he checked the time. Nearly 4:30 A.M. Well, I won't be getting any more sleep tonight.

With a sigh, Draco decided to write a letter to his Father as he had intended this morning. There was nothing else he could do concerning the dream for the time being. Taking a seat by the embers of the common room fireplace, he began to write.

Father,

I believe it is time for me to develop my network of contacts to aid me in the future, as we have discussed before. It occurs to me that the Triwizard Tournament would be a most excellent time for me to accomplish this objective. I respectfully request your assistance in the matter of gaining access to the right people during the Tournament.

I will represent the House of Malfoy well.

D.L.M.

Hopefully, something would come of meeting the people involved in running the Tournament smoothly. Otherwise, he was out of options. Draco was reluctant to go wandering the corridors at this time of night...or, morning, to send off the letter. Not only was it suspicious, but it was dangerous as well should he be caught by a roaming ghost or a professor. Therefore, he was forced to wait an hour or so until it would be more normal for a student to be out and about.

So, he did what any Slytherin would do. He practiced curses and charms on the fire that was rapidly burning out.

*Draco Malfoy's eagle owl is not given a name in canon, so I took liberties here. Arcanus is Latin for something concealed, secret, or mysterious.