ENTHRALL
By Yih

Unbeta'd

Chapter 7
A Vision of Draco

Why had he given in? Was this a weakness of being a veela's chosen mate? Harry pulled aside his collar to look at the mark that Draco had left on his golden skin. It looked like a mark of possession, and he ought to be offended. He wasn't just some thing that Draco could mark as his—but instead of feeling offended, he felt accepting. It was weird. Was this the kind of power a veela had over their mate?

According to the books, it seemed like the veelas were powerless against their mates. After all, their mates were everything to a veela. And a veela would do anything to please their mate. But somehow Harry got the feeling that it wasn't really like that with Draco. While Draco did seem to desire him in a way he never had before, he didn't seem like he was about to lose control like the books reputed veelas did in the presence of their mate—especially a mate they had not claimed as their own.

Harry touched the red mark tentatively, gently. While the mark might be a sign of claiming, it wasn't the final step. Harry blushed when he thought of the book's mundane description of what constituted as a claiming—sex. Harry sighed and splashed some cold water on his face to shake off how hot he felt. He wasn't going to let Draco get to him, he vowed. And he wasn't going to act like anything had changed.

He might be Draco's mate, but that didn't mean Draco had any real power over him. If anything, it was he that should have power over Draco. He was going to use that grasp, that control that the mates were said to have over their veelas—even though veelas were naturally dominant. But who said someone who was submissive couldn't be passively aggressive and in control? After all, hadn't he pulled off a piece of brilliant acting yesterday? Considering what he had just experienced? He could have sunk to his knees and fallen apart, but he had pulled himself together—even prepared himself for the unexpected—which had happened. Thank Merlin he had pulled it off.

Harry smiled with relief at the mirror, who cooed and awed appreciatively at his smile, and he decided that was actually what he would do. Had the Sorting Hat not wanted to put him in Slytherin? Well it was time to show his Slytherin qualities by manipulating the Prince of Slytherin. He would not be manipulated, nor taken for as a foolish Gryffindor—not when he possessed qualities of the most sly House in Hogwarts—Slytherin.

Harry walked out of the bathroom whistling.

-

"You're in a good mood today," Ron remarked, pushing a plate of sausages to Harry. "Who did you have a nice snog with the other day?"

Harry choked on the pumpkin juice he was drinking and Hermione glared at Ron before placing a napkin into Harry's hand. "Ron!" she exclaimed. "Don't say things like that when he's drinking. Did you want him to choke?"

Ron ducked his head sheepishly and shook his head. "I didn't mean to but…"

"I know," Hermione remarked, patting his hand gently. "You are the epitome of a Gryffindor, aren't you?"

Ron nodded and beamed, proudly and brightly. "Of course I am!"

"Yes, of course you are," she agreed. She turned to Harry and asked, "Are you all right?"

Harry caught Hermione's wink and if Ron wasn't looking right at his direction, he would have winked back. He was biting the inside of his mouth to hold back his laughter as it was. Sometimes, Ron could be absolutely clueless. There were times when he wondered what Hermione could see in Ron, and yet—Ron really was a good, decent, and nice guy deep down—just prone to impulsiveness that seemed to plague every Gryffindor.

"I'm fine," Harry answered. "Just surprised is all."

"Well, you didn't think we wouldn't figure it out, did you?" Hermione inquired, her eyes angling at him in a way that told him he was going to spill his guts before she let him quit. "So who is it?"

"Was it the girl we were talking about before?" Ron asked. "The one that didn't show up at the Astronomy Tower?"

Harry glanced from Hermione to Ron and then reluctantly nodded. His conscience was screaming that he was lying to his friends, but he shoved it down and told himself that his friends wouldn't understand if he told them the truth. Ron would explode. Draco bloody Malfoy, even Hermione would probably disapprove. She would remind him that Lucius Malfoy, Draco's father had tried to kill him a few times already—how could he even think about having a relationship with his son?

As for Ron, there was an outstanding grudge between the Malfoys and the Weasleys. Harry didn't know the exact details, but what he did know was enough to conclude that this wasn't some silly family feud. This went back a long time, and compared to other past generations—the current one despite the animosity—was relatively congenial to each other.

Besides, Hermione was right in her concerns. How could he even think about being with Draco, even give in like he had when Draco's father had tried to kill him before? And when he wasn't trying to kill him, trying to capture him for Voldemort? That was surely a certain death sentence. Harry groaned and dropped his head to the table, banging his forehead against it with a resounding thump.

"So was the snog good?" Ron persisted. "You looked thoroughly snogged.."

He had been, Harry thought, desire curling in his belly to even be thinking about how Draco used his tongue and his lips to bring him to the very edge of losing control. Actually, he probably had lost it and not even realized it. Thinking bad, remembering how mindless with desire he had been, he had been out of control. Damn Draco, he thought with more affection and rancor.

"Do you want to tell us who it is?"

Harry shook his head. "Not yet."

Ron opened his mouth to protest but Hermione beat him to it. "Because you aren't sure it's serious?"

It was serious, he had already acknowledged that the day before, but she had given him the perfect excuse. "Yes, yes that's it." But he could tell from the shrewd look in Hermione's eyes that she didn't entirely buy it, though she was willing to give him the benefit of the doubt. What was good was that Ron seemed to take his answer for what it was. "I don't know how serious it is," he murmured, trying to convince himself he hadn't just gotten himself caught in a web. "Not yet, at least."

"Mmmhmm," Hermione murmured, her eyes studying him like he was one of her books. "So what are you doing today? Another seer session with Daphne Aureole?"

"Yeah," Harry said. "All afternoon, actually."

Ron let out an aggrieved sigh. "I guess if we want to have any fun beforehand, we ought to get on to it before—"

"What fun?" Hermione queried, turning to Ron. "You haven't even started your homework that's due tomorrow! And you have two essays to do!" She refocused her attention on Harry. "And you're even worse, you have three!"

"One actually," Harry remarked. "I finished two last night because I couldn't sleep."

"Too much on your mind, eh mate?" Ron said.

Harry shrugged. "I guess so."

"So how about a chess—" Ron began and then stopped when he caught his girlfriend glaring at him. "After dinner," he said. "After dinner we'll play a game of chess, how does that sound mate?"

Harry laughed and smiled. "That sounds awesome."

-

"You have a vision without looking for it," Daphne remarked. "It came to you like a random thing, as a dream would—though you were not asleep or dreaming." She smiled thoughtfully and pursed her lips together. "That is not strange, though such chance visions usually come to those that are not as naturally gifted as you are, Harry. We can call the sight, but that doesn't mean we can fully control when it wants to come to us at inopportune times."

"I understand," Harry responded. "But I've never really had one of those before."

"Are you certain?" she inquired. "It might seem sometimes like intuition, like how you know what's going to happen before it does. It's a feeling, an instinct that you get. You fail to recognize it as random sight because it feels so natural to you. This power is what you were born with, and so you often overlook it. I, myself, didn't identify it for what it was until Proteus saw my gift and nurtured it, much as I'm doing for you."

"I…" Harry hesitated, "I'm not certain."

Daphne nodded. "It's hard to be, especially when you're new to it." She sighed and dipped her hand into the water bowl, unsettling the even surface. "You will become more proficient the more you learn and experience. Today, I will take you to the astral plane with me and we will see if my old mentor, Proteus is there." She stared at him with a hard, unflinching gaze. "You will tell him what you heard and perhaps he will tell if what you saw was past or future or present."

"I thought Proteus won't answer questions like that…"

"Rarely does," she agreed, "but in this, I hope that he will. It is important for him to answer this, do you not agree?"

"I do," he answered. "It is important, but I thought my gift as a seer was to see into the future."

"It is," she said, "but like all gifts, it can alter its form occasionally. You have a true foresight, but that does not mean you cannot see into the past at times. There are few seers that see into the future as accurately or as often as you can. But nearly all seers, even those without natural gifts can sometimes glimpse into the past with the accuracy that makes you feel as if you were there."

"I see."

Daphne smiled and dabbled some of the water over his head and hers. "Are you ready?"

He glanced toward her with steady green eyes. "As ready as I'll ever be."

"Then look into the water," she said. "Wait for it to settle, and we will use it as our springboard."

-

Walking on the astral plane took a lot of effort, mental effort because though it seemed that they were there—they weren't really. Their bodies—a version of them—had been transported there, but it wasn't really their physical one. It was more like a spiritual representation of themselves. Which was why, the first time Harry had wandered in the astral plane, he had thought he was dreaming. He hadn't even had a spiritual version of himself. He was just there—seeing things.

It was difficult to have to picture oneself moving to move, but he had eventually gotten the hang of it. He still was nothing on the astral plane compared to his guide, Daphne. She was a vision to see in the astral plane, looking beautiful and powerful—like a goddess. When he had met her on the astral plane the first time—he had thought her angel, some celestial being. She had laughed and told him it was only the power of her aura and that in this plane of being she was the age she felt herself to be—young and not old as her physical body was.

"Come along, Harry," Daphne remarked, gesturing for him to follow where she was drifting with unnatural speed. If he didn't start trying to catch up to her, he would lose her. "Don't get distracted. Pay attention only to me. Don't let anything lead you off the road. We've a long way to go."

"But he is here?"

She nodded. "I can feel him. Today, he is here."

-

Proteus was an old, crippled looking man and his aura was indistinctive—blending in with the surroundings as if he did not want to be found. Harry understood the great seer's need for secrecy. From Daphne, he had heard many stories, many tales of how many people would come to badger Proteus for an answer to the past and the future. If Daphne was great, then Proteus had no word to describe his sheer brilliance. Harry could only hope to have half of his gift.

"Daphne's protégée," Proteus rasped. "You come to seek, but do you think you will find?"

"I don't know."

"I know what you wish to have answered," he said hoarsely. "But tell me anyway." He held up his hand to stop Daphne from speaking as she had started to open her mouth. "I want to hear it from you."

Harry gulped and nodded. "It was a random vision…"

-

It was dark, cold and bleak—this place Draco was in. It felt like the dungeons at Hogwarts, but Harry recognized that it was too something to be it, too dark maybe. There was vibration of power that made Draco shiver, but the blond continued walking down the long hallway as if it was nothing. Harry watched as he could do nothing but watch as Draco made several winding turns before he ended up in front of two large doors. He spoke a phrase, "Ater Atra Atrum," and the doors opened.

There was a small humming sound that came from the room, a power that Harry knew instantly—this was Voldemort's stronghold. He would have shuddered if he could, but this was vision and he was only a watcher to the events—and if he could have told Draco not to go in, he would have. But as he had no choice… he was pulled with Draco into the room, into the room full of unmasked Death Eaters.

"Draco Malfoy," Voldemort hissed, still looking less like Tom Riddle and more like a snake—but his overall features had gone through an improvement over the last time Harry had seen him, "welcome."

"My Lord," Draco said, sinking to his knees and bowing his head to press his forehead against the stone floor. "I am here to serve you."

"Yes," Voldemort agreed, "and today you will be marked. Rise Draco."

Draco lifted his head up. "Thank you, my Lord."

"You are most welcome," Voldemort answered, gesturing for Draco to come to him.

Draco stood up, and Harry wanted to reach out to him and say no no no, don't do this! But he could do nothing but wait and watch to see what would happen. Harry felt his heart squeezed tightly when Draco bared his arm for Voldemort and he would have liked to look away but for the fact that he was compelled to see this, to witness this, to remember this.

"Like your father, Lucius, you will serve me and do what I bid, won't you?"

"Yes," Draco vowed. "I will serve you to the death of me."

"Then you will be mine," Voldemort declared fiercely. He placed his hand on Draco's upper arm and whispered, "Ater Atra Atrum Macula."

Harry could see the smoke rising from Draco's arm and he imagined he could smell the burning flesh. But it had to be his imagination, all of this that he was feeling. He couldn't really, could he? Feel all this? Feel so bound up into this? And this Death Eater was his mate? His chosen for life? How could this be?

"My newest Death Eater," Voldemort announced, his red eyes gleaming, "Draco Malfoy, son and heir of Lucius Malfoy with blood as pure as could be. You will be part of a new generation, of a new regime, and of a new Order of Darkness."

"Yes, my Lord," Draco murmured, "at your command it will be."

"And all I ask of you," Voldemort whispered sibilantly, "is for Harry Potter."

-

"And you wish to know if this is past or near present or from the future," Proteus remarked. "Is that not so?"

Harry glanced briefly at the shimmering Daphne before nodding. "Yes."

"Do you really, really want an answer?"

Harry hesitated. Did he really want to know when this would happen? It would trap him in the knowledge of knowing, and if it was future—would he try to prevent? If it was past—would he feel resigned to his fate? And if it was near present—what could he do?

"I…"

"And that is the question I ask all who seek me out," Proteus stated. "And you are first that has ever hesitated. Even she," he accused, pointing at his protégée, "never hesitated in wanting to know what will come, but you are wise—and do."

"I was but 9!" Daphne protested, sounding like a young girl.

"And 12 and 17 and 29," Proteus retorted, his eyes seeming to spark with some life. "I think you've chosen well, my Daphne. This young man has great potential, very great. He will go on to do great things, great deeds."

"Good things?" Harry inquired.

Proteus smiled. "I thought you didn't want to know your future."

"Is the vision my future?"

Proteus shrugged. "It can be your past, your present, or your future. Regardless, you will be great either way. You must choose your path carefully and think about the destiny lying in front of you. Which road you decide will alter some matters, but in no way will it lessen what you will eventually become."

"A great seer," Daphne inputted.

Proteus snorted. "He will be more than that, child. Much more."

Daphne sniffed, a mannerism that was more like the woman that Harry knew. "You make me sound like an untaught, ungifted seer like Sibyl Trelawney!"

"Hmmm…"

"Proteus!" she exclaimed.

"You are not," Proteus admitted. "And of course, you are not. Both of you are quite gifted with the sight, and you, Harry are blessed with both visions of past and future, and sometimes even present. I have not seen one such as you since Daphne came to me." The old man waved them away, pushing them afar. "Go now, and seek out your fate Harry Potter."

-

Author's Note: hums Well I haven't updated in nearly a month and I'm sorry about the slow update. I've been working w/ another author on some other fics which you can find here if you go to nenyaentwhistle. She actually helped me write parts of this, so thank her a lot! If not for her, I wouldn't even be writing this as I'm so wrapped up in the other stuff. Anyway, how do like the seer stuff or is that all too much for you? And how did you like the Draco vision? Do you think it's past, near present, or future? Hmmm? And Draco's POV is coming up next!

Feel free to feed the dead muse. (It will live again!)