A/N: I BET YOU ALL HATE ME RIGHT NOW :( Well here is chapter 8 which I offer as a gift of peace.

Disclaimer: Most characters belong to JKR. Then there are those that belong to anyavioletta, from The Good Morrow, Death By Champagne and The Voice Mail Morrow. Sibyl Vane belongs to Oscar Wilde. Then there are ma chilluns.


FHP

- CHAPTER EIGHT -

When You Dream

"Just tell me, Violet," Harry said angrily. Violet blinked at him.

"I did just tell you."

He looked at her sceptically. "Prove it," he ordered. She glowered at him.

"I can't bring it on by will. I usually dream it – you read my journal." Harry stared at her, not sure if she was lying or not.

"If you prove it to me then I'll believe you. You've got as much time as you want." He paused and added, "Are you going to tell Anka?" Violet froze.

"I wasn't going to tell anyone. Not you or Anka."

"And now?"

"I'm not going to tell anyone," she repeated. "And neither are you."

That night Violet paced her dormitory. She was willing herself to dream/predict something for Harry, but she didn't know if it was doing her any good. She may have been able to open the doorway so she could see her visions when she was awake, but she couldn't just make them happen yet. She thought about Harry and Ginny's wedding... she couldn't tell him about that; she needed something more recent. Finally she let herself get into bed, sleeping upside down and using her arm as a pillow, and reluctantly let sleep take her. Scenes flashed in her head, incomplete: an older Violet singing on stage; teenagers Harry and Anka kissing on a bed; Harry doing detention with Lockhart; her in a purple ball gown; her laughing in a living room with Fred; a deep voice whispering "I love you, Vix." She woke up panting and shaking. They had come so fast and yet she had remembered them all. After she had calmed herself down enough to write all the dreams in her diary (going into detail about what people were wearing so she could recognize when the vision would happen), she checked the time only to see that her clock was broken; the digital numbers read 78:18. She frowned at it and pulled out her wand, muttering a quick "Reparo." The numbers automatically changed back to the actual time; 04:58. She sighed and lay back down, feeling restless. After ten minutes she huffed and threw the blanket off her, catapulting herself into the bathroom for a shower. Half an hour later she was standing in front of the mirror, looking at her reflection objectively. She liked her eyes the best.

She had her father's eyes – kind of. The hazel had a prominent green undertone and flecks of, believe it or not, red. Sirius called them Christmas eyes – maybe that was why James called her Holly. She blow dried her hair with her wand before sighing. She and Aden took more care with their appearance than the other girls of their dorm but Violet was starting to see little to no point in it.

She peered around the door and looked at the time; it was quarter past five. Annoyed that it was still so early she dressed slowly, hoping to pass time. Once she was dressed she slowly packed her bag for the day. She sighed, seeing that it was still too early for breakfast. She thought about going to the kitchens but dismissed it. Grumbling, she left her dormitory, unable to stand being around her sleeping roommates. She was surprised to see there were still people downstairs, but neither of them was awake; Fred and George were slumped over desks, using their school work as pillows.

She looked at them curiously, wondering if she should wake them up. She dismissed that thought as well. Instead she sat across the room from them and pulled out her sketchbook. She skimmed through her drawings to a blank page and pulled out her tin of pencils. She sat there as the sun started rising, mindlessly drawing the twins, pausing as she drew Fred's mouth, wanting to get the open shape right. As she tiptoed over and inspected him closely, making mental notes in her head, she felt a sort of fondness. She gave him a soft kiss on the cheek and returned to her sketch book, working dutifully until she was finished. She looked at the picture warmly; glad now that she had been woken early by her dreams. She turned the page, wanting to continue drawing but lacking in inspiration. She sighed and flicked her pencil around her fingers, a trick she had taught herself.

Suddenly the portrait hole opened and in stumbled Sibyl, looking scruffy but completely euphoric.

"Wow," Violet said, looking at how lit up her face was. Sibyl heard her and looked in her direction, surprise not able to replace her happiness. "Sibyl, sit down," Violet ordered. Sibyl sat down vaguely, caught up in whatever she had just come from. Violet began sketching and made sure she focused on Sibyl's expression, making her body and background blurry on purpose. Soon Sibyl was asleep but she still had that ecstatic little smile on her face. Violet grinned and pulled out her wand, making a copy of each of her new drawings. She wandered over to Fred and George (still asleep) and put it next to their heads on the desk, then meandered over to Sibyl, placing hers in her lap.

She stretched, yawned, and left the common room. A few minutes later the sunlight burned through Fred's eyelids and he blinked, waking up. He looked around blearily, noting that George was still there and Sibyl was sitting in an armchair nearby. He yawned and slowly began to gather his things but stopped when he saw a large sheet of paper with a drawing of him and George, fast asleep. He stared at it for a while, admiring the detail that was put into it. Smiling softly, he folded it and slid it inside his Divination book before gently awaking his brother.

"You look horrible," Aden commented mildly, glancing up to see if McGonagall had noticed.

"Bad dream," Violet murmured back. Aden studied Violet's face for a second longer before looking away, deciding not to push her. She felt something playing with her hair behind her and slowly turned around in her seat, one eyebrow raised. Cooper Sloane gave her a cheeky grin and returned to his work. Aden turned back in her seat to discuss what had happened with Violet, but not only had she missed the whole exchange; she had fallen asleep with her head in her arms.

"Miss Potter!" McGonagall yelled loudly. Violet jumped in her seat and looked up, surprised.

"I'm sorry, Professor," she said, rubbing her eyes. "I had a late night doing... homework, and then I woke up too early and couldn't get back to sleep." McGonagall looked her over critically before sending her off to the Hospital Wing for a nap (she couldn't help but wonder why McGonagall didn't think a Pepper Up potion would be more appropriate). She wearily entered the Wing, gave Madame Pomfrey the note McGonagall had written and fell into a bed. She smiled as she snuggled into the pillows, already feeling herself drift asleep.

"You haven't been sleeping well either?" she heard someone ask. She quirked an eye open and saw Blaise Zabini lying lazily in the bed next to her.

"In a manner of speaking," she responded cautiously. Blaise hadn't exactly warmed up to her on the train, and they hadn't spoken since then.

"So what's been keeping you up at night?" She could see his lips twitching. She thought about her answer carefully, not sure how much she should say.

"Well, I guess you could say it was worry keeping me up. Then it was dreams waking me up."

"Did you have a nightmare?" he asked mockingly. She smiled at him anyway; at least they were talking.

"No, the dreams were wonderful. It'll take me a while to piece them together properly but I think I got the gist of it." He looked at her like she was insane. "So, what about you?"

"I was just bored in Potions so I told Snape I was sick – he let me go immediately."

"That would be called 'preferential treatment'," Violet said, trying to joke with him.

"So what are you going to do about it?" he challenged. She looked at him, surprised.

"I wasn't going to do anything about it. I get preferential treatment too, you know. I am his niece."

"Not by blood," Blaise muttered.

"So? Blood doesn't determine family." She yawned and snuggled back into her pillow, her eyelids feeling heavy. "Blood doesn't determine much at all." She paused, thinking. "Although, I guess a Healer would say different. I had to take a blood test a few times last year." Blaise watched her silently as she shuddered at the memory.

"Why did you need to take a blood test?" he asked, genuinely curious.

"Make sure I'm healthy so my head doesn't blow up or something. I don't remember the specifics. Healer Moore just said I had to be careful not to let it control me..."

"Let what control you?" he asked. But Violet had already fallen asleep. He watched her cautiously for a few more seconds before leaving the Hospital Wing.


Hater's gon' hate.

Hahaha, so did you like it? I like it, honestly.

Next chapter is shorter than usual :\ sorry. I didn't realise because I wrote it on paper so it seemed long.

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Love,
Sarah