Chapter Twelve: Hogsmeade

Weeks passed, and Draco kept up his charade, much to Blaise's chagrin. But it was more important to save Potter than to save Blaise's tolerance for him, so he just brushed off what Blaise said to him about it. Eventually, Blaise stopped commenting, accepting that Draco wasn't going to quit.

When Rita Skeeter's article about Potter's past came out, Draco grudgingly accepted the fact that this provided him with more ammunition to use against Potter, which he didn't particularly like the thought of. The past few weeks had calmed down a bit—something Draco had been relieved about, but he supposed that this was probably good in the long run.

As he glanced through the article, he wondered how much was true. It was Rita Skeeter, after all, but…

Well, she was right about a few things—for one, Potter was rarely without Granger. He doubted that the two of them were dating, though. It seemed like Potter had a crush on Cho Chang, a Ravenclaw the year above the two of them, although he was guessing Potter wasn't with anyone at the moment. But perhaps that was just his wishful thinking.

And then there was that quip about Potter crying himself to sleep over his parents. That was more likely to be true than Potter and Granger being an item, but he seriously doubted that, even if it was, Potter would have ever said anything like that to a reporter—he was a Gryffindor, after all, and brash and arrogant. Unless he was vying for some sympathy, he wouldn't have brought that up.

But why did it matter? Draco wondered. He shouldn't be concerning himself with the facts—all he should care about was what he could use to his advantage.

He glanced at his watch. Merlin. It was still only six. This was the third morning in a row that he'd woken before sunrise.

He rubbed his temples as he felt a headache coming on. He was not in the mood for this. But it had been several weeks since the last vision, so he supposed he should be thankful for how long it had been.

He took a deep breath, attempting to calm his fraying nerves and marched upstairs, determined not to let his worries get the best of him. After all, how bad could this vision be?

He remembered when they had started. It felt like eons ago, but in reality, it had only been six years. He was eight when he had the first one—the first one of the Dark Lord, attempting to steal the Sorcerer's Stone. His father had been horrified.

"No son of mine shall carry any trait of one of them!"

"One of what?" Draco had whispered in fear.

"Lucius," Narcissa murmured to her husband. "Your father was one! And you have to tell him someday."

"No! He doesn't need to know, nor will he ever!"

"Yes, actually, he does need to know!" Narcissa cried. "If the Dark Lord is making a play at return… then these visions won't stop. You know what your father said about them—the first is a warning, the second is forever. If Draco has another vision, they won't stop, and he has the right to know why!"

"No," Lucius said, his tone deadly soft. It was one of the few times Draco had heard his father like that. "If he knows, he won't be able to keep his fucking mouth shut and then we'll all be damned to hell!"

"Lucius—"

"No, Narcissa, you don't get a say in this." His voice was starting to rise.

"I'm your wife!" Narcissa sounded enraged by his words.

"And you're not the one whose entire lineage is a lie!" Lucius practically screamed it, and then stormed from the room saying, "This is only the first one. We don't know there will be another. And if the Dark Lord is returning, we have more important things to worry about."

"If the Dark Lord is returning, Lucius, you know the visions won't stop! You know that." Tears were streaming down Narcissa's face, and Draco had no idea what to do. He'd never seen his parents fight like this before, and he'd most certainly never seen his mother cry. Both occurrences would become steadily more common during the years to come, but one thing was certain: His mother had been right. The visions didn't stop, and it ate at Draco's soul not knowing what it was his parents were hiding from him, since it clearly had to do with him.

But when he did learn, he understood why they hadn't said. He was hurt, obviously, but he understood their reasoning. No eight-year-old would have been able to bear the weight of a secret so large, so old.

Draco let out a sigh as he flopped onto his bed, trying to forget the past, knowing he should be more worried about the future.

He closed his eyes, willing the vision to get itself over with. He felt his body sinking—or was it just his mind? The blackness of his eyelids faded and the world was doused in pale colors. That was good. If the world wasn't entirely in focus, entirely filled-in, that meant it would be over soon. It might not be drastically important to the future, but given the fact that it wasn't black and white, it had to have some significance.

He glanced around himself. It was so calm—usually, his visions jumped around. It looked like he was in Hogsmeade. And there—there was that dog again. Just standing in the middle of the road. This was his second vision about the same one, so what importance did it have? Why did he keep seeing it? He needed to find out what day this was.

It was cloudy out and looked like it could rain, but there wasn't any snow or frost on the ground, so… September? November? February? March? April? No… the trees weren't covered in leaves, yet, so it had to be between February and March or September and November. Most likely of this coming year—he rarely received visions any further than eight months before they happened, and the ones that he did tended to be much more intense than this one. In that case, he could rule out September and November.

His eyes flew open. Light was shining through the window and Blaise was poking him.

"Finally. You were starting to scare me," Blaise said. "You must have been having a nightmare or something; you were moving around a bunch and whispering to yourself. Your books were levitating, too…"

"Oh, sorry," Draco said, a little disorientated. He hated being jolted out of visions like that, but the weaker ones didn't bind him enough; almost anything could pull him out.

"You weren't waking up. Anyway…" Blaise trailed off. "You should get going—you've already missed breakfast, and you don't want to be late for class."

Draco cursed silently. He hadn't thought that this one had been so time-consuming, but then again, time seemed to flow differently… there. It did seem a bit like a place, after all, where those visions were. Or at least, a person. It beckoned him, brought him to the future, allowed him to See. All of them were like that. As though they were made of some untouchable substance that could be a mind or a spirit or a time or a place.

"Okay, yeah, sorry," Draco said quietly.

Blaise watched him, as though unsure about why Draco seemed so docile. "Do you wanna talk about it?"

"No, not particularly," Draco said, getting up. Blaise didn't comment on the fact he was already fully dressed.

He grabbed his bag and headed out of the room. He did need to talk about it, though. He needed to bring this information to Snape—it could, somehow, have something to do with Potter. Seeing as that was who all of his semi-important—and up—visions were about, perhaps there was a link. He could just be making a big deal out of it, but… Well, better safe than sorry.

"Sir, I keep Seeing a dog," Draco said, sitting down in Snape's office. It was well after dinner and there was no one else still wandering around the halls. That meant that they were quiet and dark, peaceful, almost, except for the fact that Mrs. Norris was creeping around, keeping an eye on everyone out of bed at this hour.

"Elaborate," Snape said, raising an eyebrow.

"Right, sorry, I keep having visions about the same black dog in Hogsmeade. He's about waist high and seems kind of haggard, like he was starved or something. I was wondering if he had any importance, that you know of, at least?"

Snape was quiet for a moment. "How do you know the dog is a 'he'?"

"How is that relevant?"

"It just is."

"Fine. I don't know, just a feeling, I guess." And the more Draco thought about that feeling, the more he felt like the dog was somehow human. He didn't get that kind of feeling about an ordinary animal.

And perhaps Snape had some inkling of this too, because he seemed thoughtful, only to break the short silence with, "If he makes an appearance, I will know."

"So, is he important?"

"No. Not in the slightest."

Well, that was a flat out lie. "Then why do we have to 'keep an eye out for him?'"

"He is merely another priority on our growing list of custodial duties. Do not question my decisions."

Draco gave a huff. "If he's important, can't you just tell me? Wouldn't it be better for me to be informed?"

"He's not important. Drop it, Draco. Don't you have homework to be doing?"

Snape was starting to get tense in the way he did when he was questioning his decision to do something. What decision was he questioning this time? It wasn't like he'd flat out said anything. He was just a bad liar. Right? Or was that what he was annoyed with himself over? Was he just upset that he couldn't lie better? Or was there more to this than Draco was realizing?

Draco gave a slight sneer and a, "Right, because obviously, you can handle this by yourself," to which his godfather merely huffed.

"You do not want to alienate me, Draco. I am currently the only person that you can trust with everything, and it would not be wise to push me away."

Draco knew Snape was right, but, in popular teenage fashion, he rolled his eyes and brushed off the comment, snapping out, "The other problem we have is Weasley. He and Potter don't seem to be getting along."

"That very well could be a problem. If you think that you're so wise, why don't you fix it yourself?"

Draco groaned internally. He supposed he should know better by now than to make arrogant or stuck-up remarks to his Professor.

"Unless, of course," Snape continued, "you think that perhaps you need help? Maybe… you don't have any ideas?"

Draco shot him a look. "Fine, yes, I need your help."

Snape smirked, pleased to have won. "I believe the best cure for a fight between friends is time. If they are not back in each other's good graces by the end of the First Task, we will intervene—Weasley seems to be a motivating factor for Potter."

Well, so much for asking for help. "Do you have any idea what the First Task will even be?"

"Not in the slightest."

Draco walked with Blaise through Hogsmeade that weekend in relative silence.

"So—"

"I was actually enjoying the quiet, Blaise."

Blaise grumbled, "Fine."

The two walked another three blocks before Draco relented. "What was it you were going to say?" he sighed.

"Why are you still being mean to Potter?" Blaise said, not missing a beat, almost as if it had only been seconds, rather than minutes, since Draco had so rudely cut him off.

"Blaise, we've talked about this before. My father—"

"Has nothing to do with this!" It was Blaise's turn to intervene. "Merlin, I wish you'd stop lying to me, Draco! You know I can tell! So what's this really about, hmm? Is it just you trying to build up walls so that no one can breach them? Are you scared about what would happen if someone found out? Because, newsflash! Adrianne isn't much different!"

"Lower your voice," Draco snapped. "I don't want to talk to you about this."

Blaise folded his arms. "You should. I'm probably one of the only people here who knows the real you, but I feel like… I don't know, I feel like I don't. But if you'd just tell me what's going on, I could help! Because I feel like you're shutting yourself off from the world, not letting anybody in, but it feels like you want to, like maybe you feel like you can't, like this is… I don't know, an attempt to die alone! But whatever is going on, Draco—I'm your friend! Your honest-to-Merlin friend. All I want to do is help, and I could if you would just let me!"

"No, you can't, Blaise." He shook his head. "I need some air."

He turned down the next corner, and Blaise had the good sense not to follow him.

He walked for what felt like hours, but he knew couldn't have been more than just a few minutes.

While he walked, he thought about how much he wished he could talk to Blaise. Sure, he had Snape, and he was fine, but all Snape cared about at the moment was making sure Potter turned out alive, not whether Draco's soul came out of the whole mess intact. The whole ordeal really was starting to take a toll on him. He almost scoffed at that thought—it wasn't starting to take a toll on him. It had since the day he had his first vision. Ever since the time he had felt that weight on his shoulders, of knowing the future, of having to make those hard calls if it came down to it… And he had no one by his side. He couldn't have anyone by his side.

He felt a pang in his chest. Blaise was right. He just wanted to be able to let someone else in.

Thrust from his self-pity back into the real world, Draco suddenly realized that he had no idea where he was.

Not bothering to think too much of it, he walked into a pub, deciding that he couldn't be bothered to exercise caution at the moment. All he wanted was a place away from everyone he knew so he didn't have to focus on everything he was missing in his life.

Buck up a little, would you? He thought to himself. There was no need to complain. He was born into this life and complaining wouldn't get him out of it.

Regardless, the pub didn't seem like too shady a place, so he sat down at the bar in front of a beautiful young woman.

"May I get you anything? A firewhisky, perhaps?" She gave him a flirty smile as she leaned forward, allowing her shirt to hang down just a bit further and her long, wavy locks to fall over her shoulders.

"Oh… er… no thanks, I'm underage, actually. I'd just like a butterbeer, please." He wondered if perhaps he should have taken her offer, but discarded the thought immediately. There was no reason for him to be rash, despite the fact that… well, he supposed he already was being such, seeing as he had entered this place without any prior research. For all he knew, this could be some Death Eater only club, or worse—a gay bar.

He decided that both of those options were rather unlikely as the bartender poured him his drink.

"So, where're you from?" she asked, flicking her hair as she reached under the counter to get a jug. Her voice had suggestion dripping from it, something he wasn't extremely used to.

"Um… right around here," he said, not sure how else to respond as she leaned forward a little more.

Just as he was getting uncomfortable, someone sat down beside him.

"Ah, Draco! Lovely seeing you 'ere," Adrianne said, smiling at him.

The bartender wrinkled her nose, watching as Draco glanced at him in relief. "You always get the pretty boys, Adrianne."

"Ah, that is not true, though! There was Sam…"

"Right, right, have fun, you two." She walked away and started flirting with some other unsuspecting subject.

"I'm not—" Draco began, but was interrupted by Adrianne.

"Relax, no one 'ere will say a thing," Adrianne comforted. "I take it you found your way 'ere by accid'nt?"

"Er… yeah, why?"

Adrianne smiled softly. "Zis ees a place many like to come to be alone. None will speak of your presence 'ere to others outside. Eet eez intended to be a place beyond judgm'nt, a place beyond news and gosseep."

"Really?"

"Yes. Zhere was one near my 'ome, and I would go zhere a lot."

"Why are you here, then?"

"To see you, of course." Adrianne winked, and Draco felt himself blush. It didn't even occur to Draco that Adrianne must have been following him if that had been his intent all along. All he could focus on was the way that Adrianne leaned towards him as he said it, his eyes twinkling mischievously, going nicely with that gorgeous smile of his.

"And why would you want to see me?" Draco whispered.

"Why do you think?" Adrianne asked, scooting closer.

Draco's breath caught as Adrianne's face came closer. Their noses were only a few inches apart.

Adrianne whispered, "Your call."

Draco leaned just a bit further in, his heart pounding.

Chapter Release Date: June 23, 2018

A/N: I was going to have another scene in this, but it's getting a little long and next chapter was going to be short. *cackling wickedly* I guess you'll just have to wait until next time to find out what happens…. Oh, and speaking of "next time," I'm going to be gone and without WiFi for a little bit, so you won't get a chapter next week. I know I just missed six weeks in a row and now it's another one; I'm sorry….