That night, the tents burned.

Narcissa had looked pale and drawn by the time Draco and I returned to the Malfoys' family tent late that evening. Lucius was nowhere to be seen.

"Why don't you two go out tonight?" she'd said over dinner, her voice tight. Draco and I glanced at each other. "Here, take some cash. Go and meet up with some friends, or go down to the local town or something. I'm sure you'll be able to entertain yourselves for one night. You can even stay out until the morning."

She said it with a smile, but it looked forced. Draco kicked me under the table, but I ignored him.

"That's very kind of you, Mrs Malfoy," I said demurely. "I promise I'll take good care of Draco."

She smiled a little sadly. "Thank you, sweetheart."

"Where are we going?" Draco hissed at me as soon as we left the tent.

I began walking quickly towards the nearby woods. "Somewhere safe. Something's wrong here."

Draco trotted to keep up with me. "How can you tell?"

I shrugged. "Just a funny feeling."

We made it to the edge of the woods, the flickering lights of distant tents filtering through the trees. I could hear the faint sounds of laughter and drunken celebration. There was a building pressure at my temples, the nape of my neck, like someone pressing their fingers into my skull. The green silhouette of the Dark Mark seared across my mind every time I blinked.

"Do you think it's going to happen?" Draco whispered, crouched beside me.

The sounds of the woods became unbearably loud, swelling and crashing in my ears. I thought I heard footsteps, the noise building. Then I realised what I'd forgotten, and cursed, loudly.

"What is it?" Draco asked, eyes wide.

I looked at him, panic pulsing through my veins. "Harry," I breathed.

The tents nearest us exploded into flame. I tried to stand up, but Draco caught my arm, pulling me back down. "Are you insane?" he hissed angrily. The burning rippled outwards through the tents, toppling them. Canvas peeled away from the poles like flower petals, smouldering into disintegration. There was screaming coming from the campsite. "You can't go back for Harry," Draco continued, still clutching my arm painfully as I strained against him. "You'll be burned alive."

"You don't understand," I spat back at him, clawing his hand off me, drawing blood with my fingernails. There were figures now, robed, masked, hooded, tramping through the burning tents. Laughing.

Death Eaters.

And above them, the levitating bodies of a muggle family. I suddenly understood why Narcissa had been so keen to get Draco and I out of here.

"Zara!" Draco said through his teeth. I ignored him.

Then I heard voices, coming towards us.

"Ron, where are you? Oh, this is stupid- Lumos!"

I froze. That was Hermione. A faint white glow lit up some nearby trees, to reveal Harry and his friends. Harry. A little dirtied, but otherwise unharmed. I expelled a shaking breath.

"Tripped over a tree-root," said Ron.

"Well, with feet that size, hard not to," said Draco absentmindedly.

I glared at him. "Well, I'm glad your sense of humour is intact."

He stared back at me in silence for a moment, his expression unreadable. I broke my gaze away to see the trio looking at us. Evidently, they'd overheard.

"You know what, Malfoy?" Ron replied, picking himself up off the floor. Then he suggested Draco do something anatomically impossible and rather creative to himself.

Draco smirked. "Language," he said.

"What are you guys doing here?" asked Harry, ignoring both Draco and Ron. "Have you seen what's- Draco, why are you bleeding?"

I glanced in shock at Draco. It was true. There was blood welling from fingernail-sized gouges in his hands. I felt a sudden surge of emptiness in my head.

Draco glanced at me momentarily as I stared at him blankly. Then he casually stuffed his hands into his pockets, shrugging. "Just a bit of fun in the woods."

I suddenly became all too aware of Draco's blood underneath my fingernails.

Just then, Hermione glanced behind her anxiously. "I can hear people coming," she said. "I think we should move."

I nodded, a bit numbly, trying to bring some clarity back into my brain. "I agree. We should head deeper into the woods."

We tramped further through the rustling trees, until the noise faded and the darkness became thicker and more impermeable. Draco and I trailed at the back.

"I'm so sorry," I whispered, glancing sideways at what I could see of his face among the shadows.

"Don't worry about it," he replied, although I wasn't sure he meant it. "What about the rest of your dream?" he murmured a bit later.

"What do you mean?"

"Well, we've had the tents burning, but there's no Dark Mark in the sky."

"Not yet," I said darkly.

"I can hear something," Hermione whispered from up ahead. We paused, instinctively crouching. For a moment, there was nothing. Then, the faint crunch of dried leaves. Footsteps.

With a discreet slick of my fingers, I silently cast a little spell to make us invisible to outsiders, praying we hadn't already been spotted. The footsteps stopped. Then, from perhaps only a few yards away, we heard a raw, hoarse voice.

"MORSMORDE!"

I let out a filthy curse word as Ron said "What the-?" and Hermione gasped. There was a sharp intake of breath from Draco.

The Dark Mark, in all of its vast, green and glittering glory erupted into the night sky, lingering there in a haze of emerald smoke.

"Harry, we have to run—" began Hermione, but I interrupted her.

"No," I said in a low voice. "Stay very still and very quiet. They won't be able to see us in the dark. If we run, we'll just attract attention."

The light of the Mark trickled down through the leaves, sickly green and ghostly. I looked up at it, the leering skull's face, just as it had been in my dreams.

"You knew this would happen," Draco whispered softly from beside me. I ignored him.

Later that summer, Draco told me that his father had told him that Hogwarts was hosting the Triwizard Tournament this year. I had to pretend to be surprised, whereas in truth, Dumbledore had told me months ago. Not that we'd exactly seen eye-to-eye on the subject. He'd told me it was an opportunity to foster international cooperation.

I'd told him I had a bad feeling about it.