1994
I awoke with a start, breathing heavily, the horrifying image of a raw, scabbed, childlike figure seared into my mind. Behind my eyes I could still see the faint residue of green light, could still hear the hoarse screaming of an old man.
"Zara?" came Draco's voice from the darkness within the tent. I sat upright, gulping in ragged breaths, my eyes watering. "It's okay," he said, rubbing my back soothingly, then pulling me into a tight embrace. "It was just another dream. It's okay. It wasn't real."
I buried my head into his shoulder, trying to calm my breathing. "It's okay," he murmured softly.
Eventually, we released each other. "Do you want to talk about it?" he asked cautiously.
I let my eyes adjust to the dim lighting of the tent, a faint morning glow beginning to seep through the heavy fabric. Draco and I were both cocooned in our thick sleeping bags, lying side by side on our respective foam mats. The tent was quite small, especially in terms of some of the virtual mansions you could buy in the wizarding world, but we preferred it that way. After all, we didn't need lots of space when it was just the two of us.
"It was just that old manor house again," I said, shrugging in an attempt to be nonchalant.
"Was the child-thing there?"
I nodded. "Yeah. Yeah, it was there."
After a short moment of silence, I shuffled my legs out of my sleeping bag and unzipped the tent.
"Where are you going?" Draco asked.
"Out," I replied, crawling through the thin fabric door. Once in the little porch area, I grabbed my coat and a scarf and pulled them on over my pyjamas. Then I shoved my feet into some wellington boots, nabbed a flask of leftover hot chocolate from the night before, and ventured out into the brisk morning air.
It was cold, especially for August, and I whispered a spell to heat up the flask so that it warmed my hands. Patches of pale blue were bleeding into the sky from the horizon, and a few lone stars were still faintly visible. The grass underfoot was drenched with dew, and a thin mist was drifting up from the valley below. Our tent was perched overlooking the staggering Welsh countryside as it rolled into the distance, much of it consumed by wisps of fog. I sipped at the hot chocolate, savouring the rich, bitter taste.
A few minutes later, Draco came out to join me, similarly bundled up against the chill. He was holding a bacon and egg roll, which he offered to me. I accepted wordlessly and wolfed it down, still gazing at the view.
"Have you thought of… maybe going to see someone about your nightmares?" Draco asked cautiously. "I mean… they happen almost every night, and you've been having them as long as I've known you."
I shrugged helplessly. "I've tried. Nothing seems to work. But it's okay. I'm used to them."
"You shouldn't have to be," he said darkly. Then, after a moment, he said "Have you done any more thinking about the Quidditch World Cup?"
I sighed. This had been a matter of debate between us since June. "I don't know, Draco—"
"I mean, we've practically spent the entire summer camping together anyway. I don't see why this is such a big deal."
I shifted uncomfortably. "It's not that, it's just—"
"Look, I get that you're not the biggest Quidditch fan, but it would really mean a lot to me if you came. Plus, my father's got pretty much the best seats in the stadium."
I wasn't entirely sure how to explain to him that I'd been having dreams for months in which entire fields of tents burst into flame and there was yelling and screaming and I saw a smoky green skull floating above the whole scene.
"I don't know," I said. "I'll think about it."
Draco scowled but said nothing.
A few days later, I received a letter from Harry, informing me, among other things, that he would be going to see the Quidditch World Cup final with his friends Ron and Hermione. I frowned as I read, a familiar sense of dread pooling in my stomach. By this point, I knew to trust my dreams, and if they were telling me there was going to be some kind of danger at the World Cup, chances were they were right. Even though Harry had not been in any significant danger since the events surrounding the Philosopher's Stone, I was still not prepared to take any risks.
I was just folding up the letter as Draco approached me with a plate of lunch.
"You know," I said casually. "I was thinking I might go to the World Cup after all."
Draco grinned widely. "That's great!" Then he noticed what was in my hands. "Is that a letter from Harry?" he asked, with a slightly strained tone.
"What?" I asked. "Oh, yes. Yes it is."
"Oh," said Draco shortly. "Is he going to the World Cup, by any chance?"
I fiddled with the letter. "I think he mentioned something of the sort."
"Right," said Draco, looking a little irritated. "Fantastic."
"Is something wrong?" I asked.
"No," he said airily. "No, of course not. It'll be great for you two to get the chance to hang out together." He said the words like they were distasteful.
"Yeah," I replied, frowning. "Yeah, it will be."
We arrived at the campsite later than most people, and the field was already bulging with a sea of tents. The Malfoys' servants had already gone ahead to set up our tents, so we were free to head immediately to the stadium. Lucius led the way, with Narcissa on his arm, following the twisting trail of red and green lanterns. Draco and I followed behind at a little bit of a distance so that we could chat in private. Over the past few years, I had become a regular feature in the Malfoy family, spending many of my holidays with them. The other holidays, under the guise of going back to my own 'parents', who I told everyone lived abroad, I spent travelling, or by myself in the Cambridgeshire House.
I hadn't spotted Harry yet, but I was keeping my eye out for him, surreptitiously glancing around for any sign of danger. Draco was quick to notice that I was on edge, and glanced at me suspiciously.
"Looking for someone?" he asked, with a touch of hostility in his tone.
I shoved my hands a bit deeper into my pockets, wrapping my fingers around the comfortingly familiar hilt of my wand. With any luck, I wouldn't need to use it, but the cloying smell of smoke lingered in my nostrils, and I could see the silhouettes of burning tents seared into my eyeballs. My dreams had a habit of plaguing me, even whilst I was awake.
"What?" I replied distractedly. "Oh. No. Not really." I glanced behind, at the rustling dark mass of tents, then at the sky. It was clear, and inky black.
Draco stopped walking abruptly, throwing his hands in the air in exasperation. "I can't believe you're doing this," he said angrily.
"Doing what?" I asked, looking back at him. The crimson light of a red lantern seeped across his face and pooled in his eyes. He shook his head. "Doing what?" I repeated, a dangerous edge seeping into my voice.
"This!" he exclaimed, gesticulating towards me. I frowned, a touch taken aback.
"This?"
He shook his head. "You've been doing it all summer. You just go- distant- and you refuse to talk about it. And you've been acting really weird about the World Cup ever since I brought it up. And you pretend that there's nothing wrong, when there is very clearly something wrong!"
"I had a dream, okay?" I shot back, anger and frustration finally surging out of me in a tidal wave. "I had a dream about the World Cup, and I didn't tell you about it, because I didn't want to worry you." I laughed derisively, shaking my head. "You have no idea what it's like to be me. To see the things I see. How could you?"
He was silent for a moment. Then- "You had a dream?"
"That's what I said."
Another moment of silence. The scarlet glow of the lantern flickered over Draco's features. "What happened?" he asked finally.
I swallowed, and shrugged a bit helplessly. "The tents were on fire. And the Dark Mark was in the sky."
"Okay," he said, nodding slowly. "And you think you saw the future?"
"I never said that."
"Right, but that is what you think."
I paused before answering, contemplating how much of the truth to reveal. "Yes."
"Okay then." His eyes darted about, and I could almost see the cogs in his mind turning. "So what are we going to do about it?"
"Do?" I echoed incredulously.
"Yeah," he said. "How are we going to stop it from happening?"
I frowned. "Did you never learn the story of Oedipus?"
"Who?" he replied, his eyes narrowed in confusion.
"Oedipus. His parents heard a prophecy that he would grow up to kill his father and marry his mother, so they abandoned him as a baby on some hillside in the hope that he would be eaten by wild animals. Anyway, he survived, and of course when he returned to his home city as an adult, he didn't know they were his real parents. So he ended up accidentally… well, you get the idea. It's a horrible story, really, but the moral is that attempting to defy prophecies just makes them happen all the more. It's like being trapped in Devil's Snare. The more you struggle, the more entangled and trapped you become."
"So you want to do… what? Nothing?"
I gave him a long look. "Precisely. And if something does happen, I'll be prepared."
Then I turned on my heel and began following the trail of gently floating lanterns towards the stadium.
By the time we emerged into the top box, Draco's parents were already seated, and Harry was there with his friends in the front row. I felt a small surge of relief in the pit of my stomach to see him sitting there, perfectly safe and unharmed. Definitely not dead.
Although he was steadily nearing the age in which he lay lifeless in my visions. Time was his enemy as much as it was mine.
He turned as we entered, and grinned. I smiled slightly and waved back. Draco scowled. As we moved to take our seats, I could see him glaring at me side-on, his eyes narrowed.
"What is your problem?" I hissed as we sat down.
"My problem?" he whispered back incredulously.
But any further conversation was interrupted by the arrival of the team mascots onto the pitch. As the atmosphere in the stadium built, and the roars of the crowd crescendoed, and the players finally entered the pitch, I could see some on the tightness in Draco's face begin to ease. His eyes widened almost imperceptibly, and his gaze was riveted on the game, the corner of his mouth turning upwards into an unconscious grin. I smiled a touch fondly, looking at him sideways. We'd been arguing more than usual lately, and it was nice to see him happy for once. Relaxed. Content.
He noticed me watching him, and he turned from the game, some of the tightness returning to his face. What? he mouthed.
Nothing, I mouthed back, and he pivoted his gaze towards the pitch again. Then, feeling as if I ought to do something, to lessen the tension, to make it clear that we were still friends and it was going to be okay, I rested my head on his shoulder. He stiffened for a moment, then relaxed, and I exhaled a breath I didn't realise I'd been holding. For a while, I allowed myself to forget about my dreams.
It's been far too long, but I finally got my act together and wrote another chapter! So. Just to clarify why the time skip: basically because of the changes I've made to the timeline, none of the significant events of Chamber of Secrets or Prisoner of Azkaban really happen; Tom never opened the Chamber or created the diary horcrux, and Sirius Black is free and living with Harry. So looks like Harry actually ended up with two fairly normal years at school. However, that is soon about to change...
Hope everyone is safe and well,
Amy Grace xx
