Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter, but my OC's are mine.
Chapter Thirteen
Third Year
"You just need to learn how to control it. I think. I don't even know if you can control visions. I don't even know anything about this. Maybe you should visit Trelawney when you go back to school. She may be as mad as a bat, but she has to understand what you're going through."
Ira remembered Rhys telling her this when she was in first year after he found her face down in their family's cemetery. She put it off long enough as her visions got more and more vivid, for the smallest things most of the time. She faced her fears and walked to the North Tower where the Divination classroom was. Although she'd been taking Divination all year, she was still apprehensive about talking to Trelawney about her own powers. Throughout many lessons, Ira had the feeling the woman knew more than she let on—that she knew more about Ira than it seemed. Nothing was discussed, however. The professor was too keen on spooking Harry with 'The Grim'.
It took all of five minutes to make it to the trapdoor leading into the Divination classroom. Ira entered and took in her surroundings. It looked so much like an attic and smelled like dust and dead flowers. With twenty circular tables jammed inside and a couple armchairs, it was one of the more unique rooms in Hogwarts. The curtains were draped shut, leaving the room in a dim hue.
"Ah, Ira Soares," a raspy voice said.
Ira glanced to the desk where Professor Trelawney sat. The skinny woman stared into a large crystal ball that had fog streaking across the glass. Her thick-rimmed glasses made her eyes seem much bigger than they probably were, watching Ira as she walked closer.
"I knew this day would come," she said.
Ira's brows furrowed. "You did?"
"Of course, I see into the future." Trelawney waved towards the crystal ball.
"Well, yeah, but people usually say you're—" Ira stopped short and coughed. "Never mind. I wanted to talk to you about something."
Trelawney moved from her seat and around her desk. "Your third eye!"
"Uh…sure—"
Trelawney grabbed Ira's hands. "How long have you had this gift?"
Ira pulled away. "Gift? I hardly think this is a gift."
"When did it start? What have you seen so far? Anything? Have you seen—?" Trelawney got a hold of herself, quieting when she saw Ira's face fall. "I promise you it's not that bad."
Doubt it. "I wanted to ask you if there's a way to control it?"
"Yes, there is. Has it been frequent?"
"Every three days or so, maybe, sometimes it stops and just picks up again," Ira explained.
"Hmm, usually the most practiced Seers can't have that many visions in such a brief time. You usually experience them one or twice a month, sometimes more if you conjure them yourself."
"Conjure them yourself?"
Trelawney nodded feverishly. "Oh, yes. It's possible. Some Seers charge large sums of money for their craft, so they summon visions on a whim for people who want their future read among other types of Divination."
"And people believe it?"
"Some do, some don't. That's why some students around here think I'm crazy," Trelawney sighed. "But I prove them wrong every time."
"Can we be inaccurate at all?"
"Sometimes what we see is different than what we end up experiencing, but the most powerful Seers are right on the dot with their predictions."
Ira watched Trelawney grab a book from her desk, flipping through it. "Is there a way to quit being a Seer?"
She looked up as if insulted. "Why? Do you not want this gift?"
"You keep calling it a gift, but it doesn't feel like one," Ira said. "My brother told me that people could use me…for bad."
Professor Trelawney stopped flipping the pages. "He did?"
"Yeah. Is it true then?"
She didn't listen. Instead, she went back to her crystal ball and gazed into it, putting both hands on the glass surface. "Come here," she beckoned.
Ira hesitated, but complied.
Trelawney took one hand off the crystal ball and grabbed one of Ira's hands hanging loosely at her side. They quieted as they waited for the inevitable. Trelawney kept her composure with closed eyes, mumbling something under her breath.
Then, she jumped back as if being burned.
"You're in grave danger!" she said in that terrifying voice of hers. "Someone wants you killed, slaughtered, if it's the last thing they do."
"What? Why?" Ira stared at the crystal ball as if it would give her the answers.
Trelawney's large eyes bore into hers. "He's coming for you, my dear. You want to stop him, but he can't stop from making you his."
Ira felt herself go cold at this revelation. She didn't know who this 'he' was or what they wanted with her, she just hoped she had the time to figure out what it was before anything happened.
Present
That was the first of many personal sessions to come. The remainder of that year consisted of Ira going to meet Trelawney during Study Hall and learning more and more about her own Inner Eye. Sometimes, what her professor spoke of was terrifying things, but mostly it was all logic that helped Ira develop her own powers. She still didn't have a firm grasp on them yet, but she'd get there eventually.
The conversation from the first meeting never came up again. Ira still didn't know who 'he' was or what he wanted. She tried not to think about it much.
Ira sat in Divination next to Harry and Ron at one of the circular tables. Like some of their other classes, this one was a toss-up of fourth years from different houses. The only other Slytherin in the class was Tracey Davis.
When they had entered, Trelawney spoke about Harry like she always did; predicting his future and whatnot. As much as Harry and Ron laughed it off, Ira was scared about the truth in the woman's words. They'd never understand.
"My dears, it is time for us to consider the stars," Trelawney said from the armchair she sat in. "The movements of the planets and the mysterious portents they reveal only to those who understand the steps of the celestial dance. Human destiny may be deciphered by the planetary rays, which intermingle..."
Most of the students were spelled asleep by Trelawney's wistful words, but Ira watched the woman with wonder and appreciation.
Trelawney then addressed Harry, who dozed off a few minutes before. Ira nudged him with her elbow, watching him spring back to life.
"What?" he asked, looking around the class to see everyone staring at him.
Ira tipped her head in the professor's direction.
"I was saying, my dear, that you were clearly born under the baleful influence of Saturn," Professor Trelawney repeated.
"Born under—what, sorry?"
"Saturn, dear, the planet Saturn!" she said in irritation. "I was saying that Saturn was surely in a position of power in the heavens at the moment of your birth...your dark hair...your mean stature...tragic losses so young in life...I think I am right in saying, my dear, that you were born in midwinter?"
"No," he said, "I was born in July."
Ron chuckled at that while Ira pierced him with an angry stare.
Trelawney's smile faded, and a little while later, she was handing out astrology charts for them to pair planets with their birthdays.
"I've got two Neptunes here," Harry frowned. "That can't be right, can it?"
"Aaaaah," Ron mocked Trelawney's voice, "when two Neptunes appear in the sky, it is a sure sign that a midget in glasses is being born, Harry..."
Ira hushed them as other students picked up the joke around them and began sniggering in response.
"You aren't funny, Ron," Ira said, looking down at her own paper that remained quiet blank for the most part.
Lavender Brown waved her paper in the air. "Oh Professor, look! I think I've got an unaspected planet! Oooh, which one's that, Professor?"
The older woman peered down at the girl's chart. "It is Uranus, my dear."
"Can I have a look at Uranus too, Lavender?" Ron joked.
"Ron!" Ira felt a lot like Hermione in that moment.
Professor Trelawney had heard, and she wasn't happy. "A detailed analysis of the way the planetary movements in the coming month will affect you, with reference to your personal chart," she snapped. "I want it ready to hand in next Monday, and no excuses!"
"Good going, Ron." It was Ira's turn to snap at him.
"Jeez, what's up with you?" he asked, packing up his things.
"You two are what's up with me. Insulting an actual craft! Do you have no respect for such a thing?"
Harry placed his hands on Ira's shoulders. "Ira, you know all the stuff coming out of her mouth is pure nonsense, right?"
They descended the trapdoor, walking down the North Tower's spiraling staircase. She ignored them and felt anger festering inside her. The need to turn around and tell them that she was a Seer herself—and experienced things they'd only laugh at—was so tempting.
"Trelawney's just a miserable old bat who's off her rocker," Ron said while they queued up for dinner in the entrance hall. "Seriously? Seeing the future? Ridiculous."
Ira gripped her books and whipped around so her curls hit Ron in the face. He stopped in his tracks when he saw the fury on her face. "You don't know a damn thing, Ronald Weasley!"
He looked kind of scared.
Harry started to speak, but Ira cut him off.
"And you as well, Harry Potter! Laughing about something as serious as someone predicting your death, that's what's nonsense. Take it for what it is and consider the very strong possibility that what she's saying is true! It might just surprise you!"
Her yelling grew an audience, and several Slytherin's were grinning in approval—Malfoy included. He had been talking to Blaise, Theo, Crabbe, and Goyle when he first heard the commotion. He stopped to stare with a newspaper clutched in his fist, watching the girls heated outburst take place.
"Ira—" They both started.
"No, you two don't know anything!" This is why I can't tell you anything! She wanted to shout it, tell them the truth, that she could very well be the next one to predict their deaths—or something far worse. But she couldn't.
"Well, well, well," a voice said, the smirk in his voice could literally be heard. "Is the Soares princess finally getting fed up with her good ol' pals?"
"Piss off, Malfoy," Ira said, the anger still present in her voice.
"Oh, but I thought I could join the fun."
Ira sneered. "There wasn't an invitation."
"Without an invitation, you can still crash the party," he said smoothly, turning his attention to Ron. "Your dad's in the paper, Weasley!" He held up the Daily Prophet. "Listen to this!"
FURTHER MISTAKES AT THE MINISTRY OF MAGIC
It seems as though the Ministry of Magic's troubles are not yet at an end, writes Rita Skeeter, Special Correspondent. Recently under fire for its poor crowd control at the Quidditch World Cup, and still unable to account for the disappearance of one of its witches, the Ministry was plunged into fresh embarrassment yesterday by the antics of Arnold Weasley, of the Misuse of Muggle Artifacts Office.
Draco stopped and looked up. "Imagine them not even getting his name right, Weasley. It's almost as though he's a complete nonentity, isn't it?"
If people in the entrance hall hadn't been listening before, they were now.
He continued.
Arnold Weasley, who was charged with possession of a flying car two years ago, was yesterday involved in a tussle with several Muggle law-keepers ("policemen") over a number of highly aggressive dustbins. Mr. Weasley appears to have rushed to the aid of "Mad-Eye" Moody, the aged ex-Auror who retired from the Ministry when no longer able to tell the difference between a handshake and attempted murder. Unsurprisingly, Mr. Weasley found, upon arrival at Mr. Moody's heavily guarded house, that Mr. Moody had once again raised a false alarm. Mr. Weasley was forced to modify several memories before he could escape from the policemen, but refused to answer Daily Prophet questions about why he had involved the Ministry in such an undignified and potentially embarrassing scene.
"And there's a picture, Weasley!" Malfoy said, holding it up for everyone to see. "A picture of your parents outside their house—if you can call it a house! Your mother could do with losing a bit of weight, couldn't she?"
Ira felt sick. "Malfoy!"
"Get stuffed, Malfoy," Harry said, completely ignoring Ira was there. "C'mon, Ron..."
Hermione came to their aid through the crowd, helping Harry get Ron away before he did something he'd regret.
"Oh yeah, you were staying with them this summer, weren't you, Potter?" Malfoy mocked. "So tell me, is his mother really that porky, or is it just the picture?"
"You know your mother, Malfoy?" Harry asked, shoving Ron off to Hermione. "That expression she's got, like she's got dung under her nose? Has she always looked like that, or was it just because you were with her?"
Ira gasped. "Harry!"
"Don't you dare insult my mother, Potter."
"Keep your fat mouth shut, then," Harry yelled, turning away.
Ira kept her eyes glued on Draco, who then moved his hand beneath his robes. She saw a glint of wood and she jumped right in the line of fire just in time to feel a spell hit her straight in the arm.
"Ouch!" she hissed, looking to find a hole now in her sleeve, her skin beginning to bubble. "Malfoy, what the hell!"
She saw a quick glimpse of regret on his face when another spell rang out. This time, it came from the staircase.
"OH NO YOU DON'T, LADDIE!" Professor Moody made an appearance and his spell turned Draco into a ferret. The animal shivered on the floor.
Everyone was silent. Only Moody moved a muscle.
"Did he get you?" Moody growled, looking at Ira and Harry.
She nodded numbly.
His normal eye stayed on her arm, and the other eye moved to the back of his head. "Leave it!"
"Leave what?" Ira winced.
"Not you—him!" His thumb jabbed backwards to where Blaise made a move to pick ferret-Draco off the ground. He turned around and walked in the group's direction. Draco scurried away. Well, tried to. "I don't think so!"
Mad Eye used his wand to pick Draco off the floor and dangle him in the air, smacking him off the cold hard ground.
"Stop it!" Ira screamed, watching as her Dark Arts professor continued.
"I don't like people who attack when their opponent's backs turned," Moody growled, raising Draco higher into the air. "Stinking, cowardly, scummy thing to do..."
"Stop! You're hurting him!" As much as Draco deserved it, Ira couldn't help but step in.
"Never—do—that—again—" Moody spoke each word when the ferret hit the stone floor and bounced upward again.
"Professor Moody!"
Professor McGonagall came down the stairs with a stack of books in her arms, shocked and frightened. Moody kept Draco in the air.
"Hello, Professor McGonagall," he said calmly.
"What—what are you doing?"
"Teaching."
"Teach—Moody, is that a student?" she shrieked. Her books fell to the floor.
"Yep."
"No!" she cried, running down the stairs and pulling out her wand. Another spell casted and Draco reappeared looking like a complete mess. His hair was at odd angles, his clothes disheveled, and an embarrassing pink color was in his cheeks.
"Moody, we never use Transfiguration as a punishment!" she added. "Surely Professor Dumbledore told you that?"
"He might've mentioned it, yeah," Moody said. "but I thought a good sharp shock—"
"We give detentions, Moody! Or speak to the offender's Head of House!"
"I'll do that, then."
Malfoy glared at Moody and said something along the lines of something with 'my father' in it. Ira fought the urge to roll her eyes.
"Oh yeah?" Moody said, limping to him. "Well, I know your father of old, boy...you tell him Moody's keeping a close eye on his son...you tell him that from me...now, your Head of House'll be Snape, will it?"
"Yes," Malfoy winced.
"Another old friend," he sneered. "I've been looking forward to a chat with old Snape...come on, you..."
When Moody lead Malfoy to the dungeons, Ira's friends came to the rescue. Both Gryffindor and Slytherin.
"Ira!"
"Are you okay?"
"That damned git, when I get my hands on him—"
"He'll pay for this!"
"What a bastard, honestly."
Ira's anger came flooding right back. "Just leave me alone, okay?"
Everyone stepped back, and everyone that had wanted to leave stayed for more festivities. Only, they weren't going to see much.
Ira snatched her bag off the floor and glared at the students. "Show's over!"
They filed out at once.
"Ira," Sally started, placing a comforting hand on her arm. "Are you okay?"
"No," she snapped, yanking her injured arm back. "If anyone asks, I'm in the hospital wing."
Harry and Ron looked like they wanted to say something, but Ira's heated stare made them back off.
Harry grabbed Ron and Hermione. "Let's get something to eat, guys."
That left Sally, Lily, Theo, and Ira. They looked between each other silently, each of them trying to come to terms with what just happened.
"I'll see you guys later, okay?" Ira said stiffly.
She stepped away and walked to the hospital wing. Once there, Madam Pomfrey tended to her wound.
"A stinging jinx—how'd you get that?" she asked, looking at the swollen arm that had grown to the size of Ira's thigh.
"Draco Malfoy," Ira winced when Pomfrey waved her wand around. "It was supposed to be for Harry, but I played hero and got stung instead."
"Ah, I see. Will he be punished for this?" she asked.
"Moody already took care of it…" Ira remembered the way she screamed for the man to stop, and how fear took over. She didn't have an answer as to why she reacted that way, she just did. "But I expect he'll be getting a lot worse from Snape." Or not, knowing how much the Potions professor favored him.
It took a few minutes for the swelling to go down, but it did and Madam Pomfrey removed her casting with a smile.
"There, good as new. Now, try not to get into any more trouble. I don't like seeing you in the hospital wing so much," she said seriously.
"Oh, but I thought I was your favorite patient?" Ira joked.
The woman turned back to her steely self.
"Right, got it."
Ira hopped off the bed and marched through the door, down the corridor, and to the dungeons. While she knew dinner hadn't commenced yet, she didn't want to be in the same room as everyone else. She just wanted some alone time.
Her feline sensed something was wrong the moment she stepped into the dorm. She jumped from the bed and weaved between Ira's legs.
"I'm fine, Lady," she sighed.
But it didn't feel that way.
Ira must have fallen asleep, because sometime later she woke up in complete darkness, and snores could be heard from her roommates. She considered going back to sleep, but as a gnawing sensation filled her belly, she remembered she'd skipped dinner.
Careful not to wake Lady, who was sleeping soundly by her feet, Ira slipped out of bed. She was still dressed in her uniform but didn't mess with her appearance while sneaking down to the common room. There were still some students awake chatting by the fire. Some were studying, others gossiping. They didn't notice when Ira entered and exited the room.
To get to the kitchens, one would have to walk down to a floor situated beneath the Great Hall. It was near the Hufflepuff's common room and Ira ventured there quite often when she missed meals. Or whenever she felt like snacking.
Ira tiptoed through the torch-lit darkness to the entrance hall before taking a turn down a set of spiral stairs leading to the floor where the kitchens were. She walked the long corridor for some time, passing by the Hufflepuff's entrance, and came to the large painting of a bowl of fruit. Large enough to be a door, Ira reached out and tickled the pear in the painting. It turned into a doorknob and she turned, smelling food waiting inside.
The room had a lofty ceiling with brass pots and pans strung along the stone walls. It was as massive as the Great Hall. It even appeared identical with the four long tables situated in the middle of the room. The tables were connected to the ones in the Great Hall to serve meals.
Ira continued walking when a voice came from one of the tables near a large oven.
"I hate him, you know. I hate all of them," the voice said. "But—"
A passing elf acknowledged Ira and cut Draco Malfoy off.
"Ira Soares! What pleasure it is to see you, misses!"
Ira walked out of the darkness to meet Draco's blank stare. He had a half-eaten plate of food in front of him and a brass goblet in his hand. He looked better than he did before. There were some bruises on his arms, but other than that, he seemed healthy.
"You're having conversations with house-elves now?" Ira asked, walking closer to where he sat.
He ignored the question. "Come to gloat?"
"Don't flatter yourself, Malfoy. I'm hungry." The elves looked eager to serve her and brought forth something fresh out of the ovens. Her stomach grumbled even louder.
"What? You mean you didn't join your friends for dinner to laugh about what happened?"
Ira growled, stabbing a potato. "Did you forget that you shot me with that spell of yours?"
His face fell to his plate then. "That was intended for Potter."
"Mhmm," she mumbled, taking a bite of food.
"It seriously was, Soares," Draco said again. "If I wanted to hurt you I would've done it ages ago."
"You already have though," she pointed out. "Hurt me—for many, many years. I'm just used to it by now."
He rested his eyes on her arm.
"No apology, Malfoy?" she asked. "Not that I'm surprised, considering what a sod—"
"I'm sorry."
Ira choked on her food. "What—?"
"Don't make me repeat myself, Soares. You heard me."
Yes, but she wanted to hear it again and again and again, to savor every drop of his voice so she'd have it permanently in her mind—knowing that Draco Malfoy apologized to her. They were two simple words, but they meant a whole lot, even if he wasn't apologizing for everything he ever did to her. It was still something.
"Sorry for hurting me today? Or hurting me as a whole?"
He glared. "Don't push it, Soares."
She grinned. "I'm just yanking your chain. I like seeing a…nice-ish Malfoy. It's like seeing something that's once in a lifetime—only this time I've seen it twice. Lucky me!"
"I still hate you," he reminded.
"And I still hate you, ferret." Her scowl was back. "For the record, I did try stopping Moody today when I saw what he was doing, even if you did physically hurt me."
"I know. I heard." It was his turn to grin, mocking Ira's voice. "'Stop, Moody! You're hurting him!'"
Ira's face went red. "I just didn't want him getting fired. I heard he's a really good Defense teacher this year."
"Mhmm," he said unconvincingly. Then, his eyes went soft—as soft as they could for being Draco's. "What were you yelling about with Potter and Weasel today?"
Ira had her fork to her mouth when she paused, wondering if she should say anything or not. No, she couldn't. Not with Draco. Even if they were having a heart-to-heart now, she wouldn't be able to tell him. He'd hold it against her somehow, manipulate her, maybe be the person that ends up using her. It was all too dangerous.
"Nothing. They were just being rude about something," Ira said vaguely.
"Being rude about what?"
Ira dropped her fork. "You're awfully nosey, you know that?"
"It sounded important to you, that's all." Draco drank from his goblet, eyes on Ira the whole time.
The pressure of letting some of her own baggage off her chest sounded so relieving. Maybe it wouldn't be so bad to tell him? The angel and devil on her shoulders bickered back and forth before she decided. It was a poor decision that she would regret later, but the words on the tip of her tongue fell forward, and she was letting it all out.
"I…don't know if I should tell you this," Ira said, biting her bottom lip.
He stared at the lip that her teeth sank into, and shook his head, coughing. "Tell me what?"
She sighed. "I haven't even told my friends." But I'm willing to share it with my enemy? The whole thing spelled bad.
"Just spit it out, Soares. You've already said too much, and I'll suspect something either way," he said eagerly.
Pushing her plate away, Ira folded her arms on the table, looking at anything but Draco.
"Do you remember in first year when I passed out during breakfast?" She watched him nod. "I didn't just…pass out…I sort of…uh…"
She was really doing it.
"I had visions. I still have visions." Ira braced herself for what came next.
Draco snickered. "You're full of it."
Ira's face dropped. "Excuse me?"
"You're telling me that you're a Seer? Like that nutter Trelawney?"
"She's not crazy, Malfoy," Ira said. "She can actually see things. Well, sometimes they're a little off, but for the most part it's true."
He hesitated. "Okay."
"You don't believe me." Ira could see it on his face, the laughter that he was keeping at bay. Yeah, this was a horrible idea.
He proved her right. The next moment, he was laughing so hard that the elves stopped what they were doing to watch. Disappointment washed over her. It was humiliating.
Ira stood up suddenly, making the table shake. "Forget I said anything."
Before she could turn and walk off, Draco grabbed her arm and forced her to stay put.
"You're being serious, aren't you?" he asked, the laughter gone and replaced with seriousness.
Ira slapped his hand away. "I was, but since you're making this into a big joke, I see I've made a mistake."
"Soares—"
"Thanks for apologizing. You don't have to be nice anymore. It's all an act anyway," Ira laughed darkly. "And here I keep hoping you'd change. One minute you're the bad guy and the next you're trying to understand me. I don't get it, Malfoy. Just choose one and live with it. Don't switch back and forth between the two because honestly, it gets confusing and then it just leaves me feeling stupid."
Draco's face hardened—the tell-tale sign that his walls would be sturdier than before. Ira watched as he gritted his teeth, his whole demeanor closing her off once again—probably for good this time. Her words didn't have much bite to them, they could've—if she intended to hurt him—but they still impacted him in such a way that Ira knew they wouldn't have any more of these…moments.
Ira waited for him to yell at her or hit her with another stinging jinx. But he didn't. He ignored her like she wasn't there and finished his plate of food. She narrowed her eyes when he went back to barking orders at the house-elves like a proper pureblood. If Hermione could see this now…
Shaking her head, Ira walked away. His presence only suffocated her—leaving her with a need to breath fresher air. He was toxic in all the wrong ways. Someone who could go from being nice one moment to a complete arse the next wasn't to be trusted. She mentally berated herself for being so stupid as to confide in him. What was she thinking?
By next morning, word about Ira's most secure secret will be out there for everyone to know. Ira didn't have a doubt in her mind that Draco would talk. He'd gossip to his friends who would gossip to their other friends. It would hurt Ira, of course. His only intent was to hurt her. But how far would he go to push her over the edge?
She didn't want to find out.
Writer's Note: Oh, Draco—sigh—we still have a long way to go until Draco and Ira find a middle ground. It'll happen eventually, but for right now, Draco's too stubborn, and so is Ira. After the next couple chapters, the story is going to move to 'M' rating. I thought it'd be important to forewarn anyone just in case you come across something that doesn't fit in the 'T' rating. I hope you guys enjoyed! Make sure to leave some feedback for me to look forward to, it helps my muse.
