I'm back, still alive! So . . . did you miss me? hehehe . . . Can't say that without thinking of Doctor Who. (Hey, Whovians! Anyone else excited for the new years special? We have to wait until the 2nd to watch it here in Oz *pouty face). Er, right, sorry. Again. Getting distracted, I do that sometimes. Promise I won't start quoting the lion king.

Anyway, sorry for the delay everyone (and the cliffie, I know some of you aren't fans), but I really needed a break, and a quick cup of tea spending all my free time on weekends writing is hard. Who knew? Not me since this is the first book/story I've actually written that's longer than 9 pages. . . seriously, take it easy on me, I pretty much have no idea what I'm doing.

Technicalities aside: Happy 2019! Woo!

Let's have a Spectacular (preferably magic) New Year!


Chapter One: Danger and Dreams

1994, July – Just prior to Harry's fourth Year at Hogwarts

The air was dead. Stale and motionless like a cave. Footsteps crunched along the gravel, their sound dampened, all but non-existent in the night air. Before the figure, a pale glowing light illuminated the path leading towards a rickety house, a hollow beacon in the dark.

As the cloaked figure drew closer, they rose their pale and twisted wand aloft. In a sweeping motion, that barely interrupted their stride, a complex set of aging wards were dispelled as though inconvenient cobwebs.

The house was searched, stripped bare with a systematic and callous regard, until they paused in the search. Surrounded by floor boards, dirt and dust, a hand reached down. Clasping the thin ring of gleaming gold. Then all senses were swamped by an excruciating pain, and darkness.

Harry awoke with a tortured cry, hand reaching up blindly to clutch his forehead. The splitting pain threatened to crack open his skull, emanating piercingly from his scar as he shook. He breathed heavily, huffing into the mattress trying desperately to calm down his racing heart. The specific details of his dream slipped away even as he racked his brain, until he was left only with the impression of a golden ring, surprise, maliciousness and searing pain.

'What the hell was that?!' He silently questioned into the dark room. He sat huddled on his bed, shivering slightly as he was swamped with waves of alarm and panic.

Harry fought against his blankets, trying to disentangle his sweaty limbs to rise shakily to his feet.

Harry shuddered. This had been happening more and more frequently over the past two years; the dreams. They always left him rattled and unsettled. Unable to bear the thought of returning to sleep Harry quickly slipped out into the hallway, making his way quickly out onto one of the numerous patios of Malfoy Manor.

For a moment he wished he was back at Serpens Petram (snake rock), the odd rambling house that he and his father inhabited, nestled amongst the crags on an isolated Scottish hill. With its soft worn couches, and smooth wooden floors. Warm air filled with the myriad of smells from their drying cupboards, that overflowed with the potions ingredients they'd harvested throughout the year, and the soothing simmer and bubble of sound from their perfectly set up potions lab as his Father brewed in the mornings.

Harry did love staying at Malfoy Manor. But it wasn't home.

Harry frowned, padding with bare feet down the cold stone staircase, remembering the conversation he'd had with his Dad before coming here.

They'd been out harvesting the local gillyweed and screechroom's from the muddy lake's edge. Well, Dad had mostly been harvesting, since Harry had gotten distracted. Watching with amusement as the nearby Kelpie tried yet again to lure him into the green tinged waters. Dad had to gently cuff him on the back of his head to regain his attention, making Harry turn back to him with a sheepish grin. The grin was quickly wiped when Severus had gone on to request he pack his trunk after they returned home, to stay with the Malfoy's for the week until it was time to board the Hogwarts Express. Startled at the unusual request, Harry's mouth had instantly demanded a reason. The only response being that his Dad would be too busy in the upcoming week, and he'd prefer Harry didn't blow up the house in his absence. There'd been humour in those dark eyes.

Naturally his Dad had effortlessly immobilised the gillyweed Harry had tossed his way in retaliation for that comment.

The unsettling thing was that when he'd arrived the next day only Dray and Narcissa were actually present, as he'd stepped through the grate, clutching onto his heavy trunk for balance.

Dad and Lucius had been oddly quiet about something lately, and between both he and Draco they often saw them either holed up in the Manor Library or departing through the flu. Harry couldn't quite shake the suspicion that something had them worried, his Father had been looking increasingly pale and tired over this last summer break. Something bad was going on, and neither of their Fathers would tell them.

That was a couple of days ago now, and he'd only had a brief firecall from his Dad since.

Harry pushed open the patio door, stepping out into the humid and heavily jasmine scented air. The plant was sprawled over almost the entire patio, tendrils creeping slowly along the ground and nearby beams. It was the magical variety (Narcissa rarely grew anything else), and the small white flowers had been cultivated to glow softly in the early morning dawn, swaying slightly like in the warm breeze. They reminded Harry vaguely of the muggle Christmas lights he used to see around the neighbourhood in Little Whinging around December.

Settling down on the still sun-warmed stone steps, Harry leant back against the Manor wall.

It was so peaceful here. He could hear the hundreds of New Forest Cicada's high pitched humming from the tall surrounding forest, and darting golden trails through the purple hued sunrise as Snidgets zipped between the tree's and rose bushes. Harry idly kept half an eye of the stirring snapdragons, as they stretched their necks and blew gentle puffs of smoke that were swirled away by the breeze.

Unsure of how much time past while he idly watched the sun rise, Harry tilted his head slightly when he heard the sound of cursing behind him. Tired green eyes lazily watched Draco as he precariously balanced two steaming cups whilst attempting to step through the door to join him outside. Harry's lips slanted into a smile. He didn't need to see the beverages to know that they contained Draco's favourite drink, frothy cups of hot cocoa.

Draco huffed in frustration, sending Harry a half-hearted scowl for his lack of help, as he eventually managed to convince the door to close behind him. A difficult feat given his lack of hands and unavailable wand.

Draco dropped down on the steps beside him. "Here," he said, shoving the hot drink into his waiting hands "lazy arse." He grumbled without malice.

Harry chuckled, used to his friends early morning moods. He accepted the drink with gratitude. "Thanks" he replied, with a cheeky grin that made Draco roll his eyes with (reluctantly amused) exasperation before slumping back against the wall. Stretching out his body in an almost identical manner to the snapdragons across the garden.

After a few sips of his hot drink, Draco's grey eyes became somewhat more alert, and he focused them back on Harry as he asked.

"Dreams again?" he inquired, in a tone that didn't quite hide his concern.

Harry grunted in affirmation, not bothered enough to reply properly. Just taking in the rare sight of Draco's bed-mussed hair as it fell into across his eyes. Draco blew the stands of blonde hair away with irritation.

Grey eyes drifted away towards a nearby snidget, the same one Harry was distracted by. Draco's fingers to tap several times against his cup. A sign that Harry had long since come to associate with moments of contemplation or frustration for his best friend.

Draco's pale fingers slid briefly to a stop so that he could take another sip of his drink. "Bad?" he asked after a moment, in that crisp accent (like a perfectly polished apple) that always made Harry want to smile.

Harry grunted again in agreement, finally sipping his own drink. He startled slightly when a cup-warmed hand brushed aside his dark fringe. Draco's broad torso leant closer as he inspected Harry's still red and irritated scar, oblivious to Harry's wide eyes and blush.

Unlike Harry, Draco had shot up like he'd been hit with a stretch charm in the last year or so, so as he leant close he quite easily crowded the smaller dark haired boy.

Harry had long since passed the frustrated stage over this fact, and crossed over into resignation. At least he had grown a couple inches after the blood adoption to his Godfather, he could easily imagine what his height would have been like without it. (He had in fact heard Severus muttering acerbically about the Dursley's on several occasions after his now regular health checks, and knew enough about potions to realise that not everything could be completely reversed.)

Harry blushed hotly at Draco's sudden proximity, his chest constricting tightly. Green eyes stared dazedly, perfectly in line with the dip and smoothly curved point of Draco's sharp chin. Draco had such pale skin, though this close Harry could see a small pale brown freckle on the left hand side. Harry dragged his eyes away, smothering the heat accumulated in his cheeks. He barely managed to control the response before Draco had lshifted back again.

Harry drew in a much appreciate breath of the (once again) jasmine scented air.

Draco's hand slipped slowly from his forehead as his grey eyes drifted away from his scar. His friend moved on to more carefully inspect the rest of Harry's face, clinically, obviously noting the signs of sleepless nights in the shadows under his eyes, (at least if Harry had to judge from the slight downward pull of Draco's lips).

" 'M fine" Harry mumbled, the sentiment ruined slightly by the tired careless yawn which followed.

Draco's mouth pursed in obvious disagreement, but he didn't say anything to contradict Harry.

They listened peacefully to the cicadas, though Harry could see that Draco had something else he wanted to bring up. "Father and Sev got in late last night again." Draco broke the silence, changing the subject.

Harry looked around quickly, eyes curious. "Really? I didn't hear them." He frowned, thinking back.

"Mmm" Draco nodded, his eyes shooting across to Harry. "I think you're right," he added. "I snuck in after they went to bed and found one of the books they left open." He spoke quietly. "I think they're trying to remove the dark mark."

Harry tensed, fingers curling tightly around his mug. They both knew there were limited reasons why their fathers would seek to achieve that, and none of them pleasant.

"Well . . . guess that explains the purification ingredients and research in the lab." He replied, thinking back to the large stack of ingredients he'd found in his Dad's private storage cupboard back home when he'd been looking for some spare bubotuber's.

Draco had set his cup down, leaving his hand free to reach out and tap a nearby wandering jasmine vine. It instantly curled up in response, green tendrils freezing in their tracks, as though playing-dead. "There's more. Father's been advocating for increased security at the Ministry and school since the latest board meeting."

Feeling restless Harry stood up, pacing slightly. "Why won't they just tell us what's going on?" he said, suddenly bursting with frustration. He hated being kept out of the loop like this! Their Dads were obviously in trouble but Harry had no way of aiding them! "I want to help!"

Draco stared up at him, then suddenly his eyes widened. He stood up and Harry tilted his head back slightly so as to to meet his friends excited gaze. "I think we need some way of recording your dreams Harry."

Harry's eyes widened. "What?" he stuttered, startled.

Draco was shaking his head quickly, eyes intent. "No. Hear me out, Harry." He insisted. "Your dreams are obviously linked to your scar! You might be dreaming of something that they can use against the dark mark, or you-know-who, or whatever has gotten our Father's so worked up!"

Harry was sceptical "What, like, prophetic dreams or something? Draco, that's ridiculous!" Harry babbled, his mind stuck on memories Professor Trelawney and her joke of a Divination class. He had taken the elective for one year only out of interest (against his Dad's advice) and lived to regret it.

Draco wasn't dissuaded "Maybe not prophetic. But you said yourself, ordinary dreams don't have any effect on your scar. Whatever your seeing in those dreams could be important, Harry."

Harry's mouth snapped close, a small crease between his brow forming. His next words came out slower. "But we still have no idea how to record them. I don't remember anything but the vaguest memories when I wake up." Harry said more quietly. "And besides, don't you think our parents would have already thought of this? I've mentioned it to Dad before, and the only reason he's stopped my occlumency lessons to block them is because he's so busy researching. He's already said we'll be resuming once we get back to Hogwarts. . ."

Draco looked hesitant for the first time since voicing his suggestion. "I don't know, Harry. But I'm sure we could figure out a solution. There has to be some sort of reference in the Hogwarts or Manor Libraries to similar circumstances."

"I don't think I want to remember them, Dray." Harry admitted quietly, eyes cast down. "They're confusing. And- and I always wake up - so angry." His hand skittered up to his scar, remembering the blinding pain from this morning. "And i-it . . . " his voice choked.

Draco's face instantly flooded with guilt and regret as he realised the full implications of what he was suggesting. His hand darted up, clasping around Harry's wrist. "You're right. It was a stupid idea." He murmured, his thumb stroked along Harry's scar softly. He was so that that Harry could feel the warm puff of Draco's breath against his cheekbones.

Harry wondered if Draco were even aware of the way his thumb brushed along his face, or if this was yet another moment of Draco's unconscious fidgeting. Harry was too tired to question it either way.

They stayed like that for several minutes before Harry pulled slowly away.

"I'm going to get dressed" he spoke softly into the morning light. "Meet you in the Library in fifteen?" he checked moving to leave.

Draco's lips twisted into a smile. "Best be quick about it. If Dotty finds you wandering around outside in those pyjama's she'll have a meltdown."

Harry glanced down and blushed brightly, eyes darting up in horror to Draco's amused expression, just now realising that he'd been outside in only a tee shirt and old comfortable pair of boxers. "Err – right. Yeah, I'll just -" he gestured awkwardly towards the door, even as he hightailed it back towards his guest room.

Draco's laughter trailing behind him.


Harry wandered into the Manor library freshly dressed, after a quick shower to refresh.

He glanced around, noting that Draco hadn't made an appearance yet. He cast his eyes around the bookcases, strolling to a quiet corner in the back.

As his gaze drifted along the titles, his eyes arrested on a small black unassuming spine.

As though he was drawn towards it, his hand reached out to grasp the book.

To be continued….