A/N – Sorry I haven't updated in so long-I've been on vacation and suffering writer's block. Finally, some ideas hit, and the story resumes. Thanks for being patient, awesome, forgiving readers!
Oh what a tangled web we weave,
When first we practise to deceive!
Marmion. Canto vi. Stanza 17. -Sir Walter
Nothing makes us so lonely as our secrets. Paul Tournier
Chapter Four-Whitewash
It was the night before his third year at Hogwarts began when Teddy had the first dream.
He had had difficulty falling asleep that night, and when he finally did it was restless and more tiring than staying awake.
He tossed and turned, tossed some more and turned a bit more, when the dream appeared, as sudden as a bolt of lightning.
He was hurtling through what seemed like endless stretches of space, of time…
Finally he landed.
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A teenaged boy with a twisted face was holding out his arm, towards Teddy, eyes squeezed shut as if he was in anticipation of something painful, yet something that he had wanted.
And suddenly a voice from behind Teddy, a high, thin, cold voice that Teddy dared not turn around to investigate its source, declared, "Carve Famulatus!"
The teenaged boy let out a short cry of pain that he quickly stifled as a mark began twisting, carving, spinning grotesquely around his left arm.
The mark was shaped like a black skull, with a serpentine tongue protruding from the sickening mouth.
Teddy couldn't look away- he was rooted, glued to the spot in horror and terrifying curiosity.
He recognized the mark, how could he not, being a child of war, as the mark of Voldemort's supporters. The Dark Mark.
But who was receiving it? And why was Teddy watching something from decades ago?
As if in answer, the cold voice spoke again.
"Very well, Dolohov-", and Teddy's ears roared so loudly that he couldn't hear the rest of what the frozen voice said.
Dolohov was the man who had murdered his father.
Dolohov, who had committed terrible, unspeakable crimes in the name of Voldemort.
Dolohov, who had escaped justice and fled, whose whereabouts eluded even the most gifted Aurors.
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The room spun, and the vision was replaced with a new one.
Dolohov, twisted face alight with sadistic glee, was issuing jets of green light at two men who looked like Weasleys. Gideon and Fabian Prewett, Mrs.Weasley's brothers who had been murdered during the first war. Teddy tried to cry out, tried to help the brothers who were dodging and ducking the rapid jets, but he was ice-completely paralyzed. The dance didn't last long, and a jet hit one. The other cursed Dolohov, who laughed, ducked and killed him, twisted face still grinning.
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The room spun again.
Dolohov was older now, in Azkaban, where he was slipping out of a large hole in the wall with other Death Eaters, as the Dementors placidly watched.
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Now, Dolohov was dueling a grave looking man with hair streaked with grey, who looked weary but determined.
Dad.
Teddy tried to move once more, and once more found he couldn't, as his father fell to a green jet of light.
Teddy shouted in grief, and watched helplessly as his father slumped to the ground.
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A short man was dueling Dolohov, and Dolohov fell. The man then was struck by a spell from another Death Eater.
Unknown to everybody, Dolohov moved feebly, then, recovering his senses, leapt up. His eyes darted around anxiously, and Teddy longed to stop him.
Dolohov chanted an incantation softly to himself, and in a flash of smoke, he was gone.
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Dolohov was sitting in a cave, somewhat older and leaner, but twisted face still alight with a savage fire.
There were other caves nearby, and Teddy saw peaks.
Dolohov was gazing at a sodden newspaper. Teddy could see the date on it clearly.
August 30th,2011.
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Teddy woke with a start, gasping, drenched in cold sweat and feeling icy all over.
Dolohov.
But he couldn't seriously be having dreams like that, could he? Visions?
No way, he told himself.
But it seemed so real…
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They were all getting ready to board the Hogwarts Express, and Victoire was already in her school robes, blonde hair halfway down her back.
Teddy was pale and grim looking, his hair his usual royal blue, but his face even paler than normal and pronounced bags under his eyes.
No one seemed to really notice that he was different that morning, but Victoire did look at him inquiringly when he greeted her.
He pretended he hadn't noticed her eyes' inquiry, and returned her greeting with a tired, "Wotcher, Victoire."
He knew he was in for it though when they were in the compartment. His friend Frank Longbottom never rode the Hogwarts Express, since he lived at Hogwarts, so Teddy usually passed the train ride in solitary contemplation of the view out the window.
This time, he was expected to stay with Victoire, and while he certainly didn't mind her, he definitely minded how perceptive she was, and was afraid she would pick up on his haunting dream.
And sure enough, she did, asking him as soon as they got in the compartment and stowed their trunks what was wrong.
"Nothing. Just couldn't get to sleep last night. You know, nerves," he offered feebly.
"Nerves?" she scoffed.
He knew that that wouldn't pass with her.
"What happened, Teddy?" she asked again, her piercing blue eyes scrutinizing him.
"Nothing, I said! Just a bad dream."
She gave a huff of exasperation and threw herself down into the seat next to him.
"Nothing is ever nothing with you, Teddy Lupin," she said suddenly.
"Merlin, Victoire, I said that it was nothing! Why can't you just leave me alone?"
"Because," she paused, and Teddy turned away to watch the landscape swiftly flying past the window. He leaned his forehead on the cool glass, and willed himself to be calm.
"Because we're friends, and friends tell each other everything."
He felt suddenly angry. There was no way she would want to be friends with him if she found out he was having dreams about Death Eaters. She was too innocent to hear about that kind of stuff, at least for now, and he wasn't going to be the one to darken her days with his visions of death.
"Teddy," she whispered, "you can tell me. I can help. You helped me when I was scared, remember?"
"Who said I was scared?" he retorted, and immediately regretted it.
"Well," she began, looking apprehensive.
"Well," he mocked, not turning from the window. If he looked at her face now, within minutes it would all be out.
"I said it was nothing, Victoire! If you were my friend, you would leave me the bloody hell alone!"
This time he turned, and as he unwillingly met her gaze, he felt angrier, but at himself.
She was still looking calmly at him, her blue eyes full of pity and empathy.
Teddy Lupin hated pity. Especially from Victoire.
He stomped out of the compartment, and as he looked back, he saw Victoire, still sitting there, gazing out the window with a tear running down her cheek, yet her eyes still full of understanding and that blasted pity.
He felt horrible then, but still he walked away and pretended he hadn't seen.
A/N-Please, make my day and review. Just tell me what you liked, didn't like, where you think the story is going...