Disclaimer: Only Lillian and any other character not having anything to do with J.K. Rowling's ideas are mine. Harry, Ron, Hermione, etc. are not mine and never will be.
Summary: Lillian Fontaine is connected to Harry more than anyone knows, she is also more than she appears. When she finally arrives at Hogwarts, is the school ready for her? And what about the rest of the Wizarding World?
Pairs: This will eventually become a Lily/Draco fic. Also, there might be some Ron/Hermione as well.
Lillian Fontaine awoke to the sound of her heart beating out of control. Another night of the same dream she had had the past year and a half. It was always the same.
She was in a graveyard, it was nighttime and she could almost smell the fear in the air. The tombstones around her were cracking and old, and most importantly, she wasn't alone. There was always one person to her right, but she could never see his face. The other person was on the ground at her feet, his face turned away from her, and she could clearly tell that he was dead. No matter how many times she had the dream she was always surprised to hear the voice that came next. It was soft, and yet, at the same time it chilled her right down to her toes. She never understood what it said but she always ran. In front of her was the person she couldn't see, he always seemed to be urging her on, telling her she had to keep moving. All she knew was, that when she reached the tombstone reading Alfred C. Livingston, she could feel someone grabbing her by the arm, but when she turned to look at him she woke up abruptly with a searing pain coming from just above her heart and below her shoulder blade.
Lily pushed her blankets off from her with some difficulty and walked over to her door. She opened it a crack and looked down the hall to the left. The light under the second door was on but there was no movement coming from behind it. Lily breathed a sigh of relief and shut the door as quietly as she could. She leaned her head back against the door and closed her eyes, trying to focus on the face in her dream. She concentrated as hard as she could but she just couldn't remember. She opened her eyes angrily and almost slammed her fist against the door. She stopped just before her hand hit the wood paneling and stepped away quickly. Another sigh escaped her lips as she moved back to her bed. She imagined how her aunt and uncle would have reacted to being woken up at 3:00 in the morning to a fist hitting their niece's door. She shivered involuntarily and got back under the covers. She laced her fingers together and placed them on top of the comforter while staring at the ceiling. The tiny glow-in the dark stars shined brightly against the white paint. She smiled at them softly and closed her eyes once again trying to forget the pain coming from her shoulder.
As she drifted off to sleep, the memories of the graveyard faded away and she soon found herself dreaming of a beautiful lake and warm summer breezes. Tall turrets of stone shined behind her and a small smile crept across Lillian's sleeping face.