Draco's Dubious Doings

"Dear Ila,

Thanks for your letter, it's great that Varmas' haven't done anything to you. I hope it was more about your escapee Godfather. In this letter, I've given you some more pictures, and about your worry for that man, don't worry. He's had worse done on him. And about the other thing. While I think it might not mean anything about your scar, there's nothing wrong with being safe. Have you told Dumbledore yet? If you haven't, do it soon. He'll know what to do. In the meanwhile, I'm coming back from India. I guess now your dream of finally learning some magic from India will come true. I promise that the first thing I'll do is to teach you some. It's completely different from magic in England, but I'll tell you everything about it when I come back.

Stay safe

Love, from your best Godfather, Snuffles."

"Fuck!" Ila exclaimed before immediately sneezing, breaking the conversation between Hermione and Ron. Hedwig was frightened, leaving without her breakfast treat. Even though the game had been weeks ago, she still had lingering symptoms of her cold.

"You ok?" he asked, glancing at the letter in her hands. Noticing their curious eyes, Ila pushed Sirius' letter towards them and watched their reaction as they read the letter together.

"I shouldn't have said anything to him in the first place," Ila muttered to herself once they finished reading.

"No," Hermione said. "It was good that you said something. Ila, this could be serious."

"Or it could be that I was getting a headache."

"You were the one that was telling us that the dream you had before wasn't like any other dreams that you've had," Ron reminded her. "Look, even if it wasn't serious, the dream that you had is pretty serious."

Ila sighed, staring at the letter. "I just don't want him to come back, just for him to get into trouble. I don't want to do that to him."

"Then we'll tell Dumbledore," Hermione said. "Give him this letter and tell him that he's coming back. You heard what Moody said; the Ministry'll listen to Dumbledore if they tell them that Sirius is innocent."

"But that might not work," Ila said. "I can't put all my trust into one person. I have to do something."

"What're you going to do then?" Ron asked.

Ila took the letter back, placing it back into the envelope. She also saw a few pictures that Sirius had given her. Pouring it out, she spread out all the pictures. Some of them were random things, going down highways or driving in a rickshaw in the countryside. On some of them, Sirius had written a small description on the back. There was one with him in the river, with a few other men. On the back, it was him with a few of her father's cousins. On another, those same men were with him as they were eating dinner. He seemed happy. For the first time since Ila had seen him last year, Sirius looked relaxed. He was laughing. He looked…like a weight had been lifted off him. Was she that weight?

She should never have said anything. He should have just stayed there. She should have left him alone.

"I'll tell him that everything's fine," Ila said as she began packing up all the pictures into the envelope.

"That's a lie, Ila," Hermione said. "Why would you tell him that?"

"Look at him, Hermione," Ila said, taking a picture of him and her father's cousins and showing it to Hermione and Ron. "He looks happy…I'm not taking that away from him."

"And you won't if you tell him about your scar Ila. He cares about you," Hermione said.

"He deserves to have some happiness….he lost both of his closest friends and found the other to the reason why he lost them."

"And what do you think will happen if he loses their child?" Hermione said sternly. Ila stared at her. A moment later, she shoved the letter into her bag and stood up, telling the two that she's going to the Owlery, much to the disappointment of Hermione.

Maybe Hermione's right, Ila thought as she walked up the steps to the Owlery. But…that would be unfair to him, coming back all the way, leaving everything that would make him happy, risk being caught being thrown to Azkaban for another twelve years or even more, now that he'd escaped, just to find out that it was all a headache and vivid nightmare. She couldn't do that to him.

Ila took a scrap piece of parchment, ensuring it wasn't her potion's essay and began writing back to Sirius.

"Dear Sirius,

I'm sure it's fine. I've already told Dumbledore, and he said that I shouldn't worry about it. You don't need to come back. It's fine if I have to wait for a few more months.

Love

Ila."

A large silver bird swooped down, just beside Ila's head, scaring her and causing her to fall to the floor. Her letter, quill and inkpot dropped down beside her. Following the bird's direction, she saw it rest upon the shoulder of a tall blond-haired boy.

"You're bleeding," Malfoy said flatly, staring at her shoulder. Checking it, she saw three rips on her shirt, along with three red lines, blood slowly flowing out.

"If it weren't for your stupid bird, I would have been fine," she snapped, collecting her letter. Since the inkpot had fallen too, it landed on her letter, spilling out its black contents onto the letter, ruining it.

"I can't really control what it does," he said, stroking it. "He has a mind of its own."

"Strange, because I tell Hedwig that I want her to scratch your eyes out every single day, and yet here you are, able to see with both eyes," Ila said, scrunching up her letter and shoving in her bag. She'll have to write at another time. Focusing on her inkpot, she saw that parts of it had stained the actual floor itself. She couldn't remember the cleaning spell that Mrs Weasley had taught her, so instead, she started picking up the shards of glass.

Wordlessly, Malfoy walked over to her and crouched. He stopped her hands right before they reached the shards. "You'll start bleeding again," he simply said.

Ila stared at his hands.

"And you wonder why I think your acting different," she muttered.

"I told you before Potter," Malfoy said, his arms moving away from his and reaching for his wand, "I haven't changed. You probably realised that they're other people to this world than you and your friends."

Ila scoffed. "You haven't let your friends say or do one bad thing to me. You always seem to stop them before anything can happen. Why is that Malfoy? Aren't you supposed to hate me?"

Malfoy waved his wand, and the broken glass had vanished. He stood up. "You act as if I have to hate you, Potter. Is that the role that I play in your world? Am I the villain?"

"You've hated me all these years. What's happened now?" Ila asked, standing up too, though it wasn't as intimidating considering Ila was a few inches shorter than him.

"People change. I don't always have to hate you."

Malfoy walked out, leaving the Owlery and Ila behind him.

In the few weeks since the Quidditch game had been played, Ila hadn't seen Malfoy. Even in the lessons, she shared with him, she hadn't heard from him. She hadn't seen him apart from one time.

It was the day after the game when she had been bedbound because that tends to happen when you spend half an hour up in the sky, in the pouring rain. Ron and Hermione were in the library, so Ila was left to her own devices. At first, she stayed in bed and watched the rain pour down, but it got boring after a while. So, with the invisibility cloak and the map, she sneaked out of the common room and went out, back onto the pitch. She knew she wasn't going to fly, and she also knew that it wasn't going to help her get better, being in the rain. But, it didn't matter.

She stepped out into the rain and let the rain drench her hair once more. Without her glasses, she couldn't see much. The rain didn't help that either. But placing the big Quidditch goal, Ila ran all the way to the Quidditch pitch, not stopping once until she got there.

Which was a mistake.

See, if anything about the hill that she climbed all the way in the summer told you anything, Ila wasn't an active person. She took Quidditch, but you barely do anything. You don't need any physical strength – unless you're a beater, keeper, or chaser. Being a seeker, all you need was speed and intuition.

Thankfully, Ila had both. But only in the air.

On the ground, where gravity was at its worst, Ila struggled. She bent down, trying to catch her breath, before giving up totally and laid on the earth. She closed her eyes, letting the drops hit her eyelids. She felt the ground beneath becoming soft. The earth moved around her as she dented it. It was covering her, protecting her. She listened to the constant hum of rain pattering down. She smelt the soil release its chemicals into the air.

For the first time, Ila didn't have to worry about anything. Her friends, Voldemort, Malfoy…her death…

She was at peace.

…

That was until –

"You know you've got mud on your face," a voice said. She opened her eyes to see an upside-down Malfoy staring down at her. Of course, it had to be him. In fact, Ila would have been surprised at the universe for you not annoying her every day.

"What do you want?" she asked. She rolled over, suppressing the groan of leaving her comfort place and stood up to face him. That was strange. There seemed to be an invisible barrier between him and the rain. Ila could see the barrier all over him. He wasn't wet. There were no droplets on his skin; his clothes weren't damp, his hair wasn't drenched like hers.

She needed to learn that spell.

"I…you left something, and I thought you'd need it," he said, taking out something from his back pocket.

It was her glasses.

He thrusted his hand out towards her. She looked back and forth to her glasses and his face. She was sure that she wouldn't be able to tell what he was thinking without her glasses. He was looking away, hoping that this conversation wouldn't last too long. With the help of her wand, she gingerly took the glasses away from – just in case he had done something to them.

"You know if I put a curse on them, you would've felt it by now," he said, watching her fiddle with the glasses, trying to see if he had done something without actually touching them.

She narrowed her eyes at him. "What?"

"You sure haven't done anything to them?" she asked.

He almost seemed confused. "Why would I do that?"

Why wouldn't you do that, she wanted to ask. "Your friends didn't touch them either?"

"No one knows I have your glasses. If my friends found that that I did…."

So he knows what he's doing isn't what he's supposed to be doing. He knows that he should have left her glasses broken on the floor. Or maybe stomped on them to break it even more. He shouldn't be fixing her glasses.

"Er – right…" Ila wasn't sure if she should thank him or not. She didn't really want to because it's…you know, Draco Malfoy. Since when did she ever thank him?

It seemed that Malfoy didn't want to be there either. Rather than letting the awkward silence brew, he pushed past her, his shoulder brushing against hers and walked back to the castle. She quickly put them on, not wanting to lose sight of him. She watched him walk until he disappeared into the castle.

And that was it.

Ila hadn't seen him since.

But…it was strange.

While she didn't actually see him, it felt like his presence was always there. She was pretty sure he hadn't died and come back to haunt her as a ghost, but…it was weird.

Like, anytime she was around the Slytherins, minus Parkinson, she would usually be greeted by a bunch of petty comments about how Voldemort should have killed her as he did with her parents, but now?

She gets nothing.

The Slytherins have ignored her presence. And her friends. But this wasn't even the strangest thing. One day, she was corned by a bunch of sixth-year Ravenclaws – she couldn't remember much from the interaction, only that they weren't the friendliest of Ravenclaws that she met. But the next day, she saw those exact sixth years come up to her during breakfast, bruises littered across their faces, and they apologised.

Now, while this could have been a coincidence, the Ravenclaws kept glancing towards the Slytherin table. Malfoy wasn't there, but…

He can't have done this. He's…what would be the point? Why? He's just…He's a Malfoy, for merlin's sake. He's supposed to hate her, isn't he? He shouldn't…unless it wasn't him, and it was completely by coincidence…Why? Why would he help her of all people? Doesn't he remember who she is? Does he have amnesia? To be honest, that would make sense…but it's highly impossible…Maybe, Ron was right – No. There will never be a reality where Ron's theory of the two of them will be right. That's highly impossible. In fact, it's 100% impossible. It's not true. That will never happen.

So then what?

What's going on with him?

A dull thud pounded against Ila's head as she climbed up the ladder to her Divination lesson. It was probably the herbs and incense Professor Trewlany always burned. It would also explain why she suddenly felt so sleepy. With the red curtains draped from the ceiling, it reminded Ila of her dormitories, and with the thousands of beanbags and pillows as chairs, even someone who took ten shots of espresso would have fallen asleep.

"Sorry, I'm late-"

"No need to apologise, Ila," Professor Trewleny's shrill voice drifted towards her, breaking Ila out of her sleepy trance, "I already saw that you were going to be late."

"I told her that you were going to be late," Ron explained after he explained what they were going to do. For the past month or so, the class focused on different Divination techniques that would help them see specifically people's futures. For the past month, they had been covered head to toe in dirt, sneezed and coughed out of a year's worth of dust in one lesson and be pricked by too many needles. This lesson was a lot tamer compared to past ones, focusing on the art of tarot.

Each pair received a pack of tarot cards, each having an image to symbolise an event in a person's life, along with the card's name. Going first, Ila spread the cards out, facing downwards so that Ron couldn't see what he would pick.

"Why, 'ello Monsieur Weasley," Ila said, putting on a French accent on, "'ow would you like to get your future predicted all wiz ze turn of a card?"

"Er – do we have to do this? Can't we play some card games? Dad taught us-"

"We'll do it after Ron," Ila said normally before clearing her throat. "What do you say Monsieur Weasley? Would you like to take a trip to ze dark side?"

Ron sighed, "Not really, but" – Ron then picked six different cards at random – "I'll take these."

"Good choice Monsieur," Ila said, moving all the other cards away and placing the six in the middle. Dramatically, she flipped the first card over, depicting a golden wheel that faced Ron. "Ah, ze Wheel of Fortune! Zat iz an excellent choice Monsieur Weazely."

"Hmm," he said distractedly as he looked over Ila's shoulder and smiled. He waited a few moments before he spoke again. "What does it mean then?"

"W-well, you see, ze zing iz-"

"My Darlings," Professor Trewleny announced behind her, startling Ila, "let me remind you that predicting someone's future and using tarot cards is serious. Do not take this lightly. Show some respect to the art, and the art will show some respect to you…Carry on."

So that's why Ron asked her. She knew he didn't care about any of this. What further proved this was when Ila glared at him, only to be met with an innocent smile. "Go on then. You still haven't said what it means."

"Well," Ila said slowly, now in her normal voice, "it obviously means that you…are…very…fortunate…."

"Yes, we all know that, Ila," Trewlany said, crouching down slightly so that she was now hovering above Ila's shoulder. "But what else? Look at which it's facing."

Ila stared at the card facing Ron, trying to rack through her brain about what Trewleny said about each card just ten minutes ago. "Er – you're going to go through…change?"

"Well done, Ila," Trewleny said, clapping her hands together. "I can already see your third eye opening further!" Once she turned to look over other students work, Ila didn't hesitate to kick Ron in the shin.

"What the hell!"

Instead, Ila didn't respond, flipping the second card only to be faced with a drawing of the joker facing Ron.

"Ah would you look at zat," Ila said, taking on the accent once more. "It seems zat ze universe 'as spoken!"

"Piss off, Ila," Ron muttered, making her smile even more.

"You know," Ila said in a sing-song voice, as she waved her finger in his face, "something iz telling me zat zis card iz telling ze truth!"

A finger then met Ila before she carried on with his reading. The rest of the cards remained uneventful, the third being the Sun, the fourth being the Magician, the fifth being the Justice. The only interesting one was the sixth being Lovers. But before Ila could dwell on it any further, Ron messed up the pack, including the rest of the cards, to the table and took his turn to read Ila's future. Like Ron, Ila picked her cards randomly, all of which were then placed in the middle for Ron to turn them over.

For Ila's first card, she also received Lovers, which faced her, meaning that harmony and unity will occur in her relationship.

As if…

"It says in the book that you're going to have a lover," Ron told her.

"No, it doesn't, Ron, don't be stupid."

"Hey, I thought you'd be happy that you got that...maybe you're dream with Diggory will come true...or maybe the cards are trying to tell you who your secret lover really is?"

"Who's that then?"

"Mal - "

Ila tutted. "Ron, just because I'm a girl doesn't mean that I'm going to enjoy the card that predicts I'll have a lover."

A scream came from the other side of the room. The class stopped and looked up to see Lavender squealing as she held up one of her tarot cards.

"Look, look, look at what I got," Lavender said, bouncing on her heels as she showed the entire class the card in her hand: Lovers.

Ron gave her an 'I – told – you – so' look before carrying on with her reading. "Well, Madame Potter, you will get a lover; what else will you get?" He turned the card around enthusiastically. "Oh."

A skeleton riding a white horse and holding up a black and white flag in one hand, with a scythe in the other: Death.

"Nice," Ila whispered, intently staring at the skeletal figure. She knew that the art of divination wasn't real, or if it was, Professor Trewleny was sure as hell not doing a great job in teaching it, but the more that Ila stared at the Card of Death, at the Grim Reaper on his white horse, the more uncomfortable she felt. It was like a small tremor constantly shaking her body. There was a strange feeling of familiarity as she stared at Death, though she had to remind herself that it wasn't Death.

It was just a drawing.

The rest of her reading didn't go as planned either.

The third card was the High Priestess, which faced Ron, meaning a lack of centre or repressed feelings. The fourth was the Hermit, also facing Ron, which meant isolation and feeling lost. The fifth was The Hierophant reversed, meaning rebellion. The sixth was –

"The Hanged Man," Ron said slowly, glancing at Ila occasionally, though it would be no use. She didn't give any of her emotions away. She stared blankly at the card before looking up at Ron, waiting for his explanation. "Well…since er – it's reversed, it means" – Ron skimmed through the pages, trying to find the right card – "self-sacrifice."

Ila didn't need to be told what the card meant. It was obvious from the others what the last one would mean.

As if she didn't need a clearer sign of what her future would be like.

"You know all of this's bullshit," Ron said lightly. "Even Hermione doesn't believe in any of this stuff!"

Ila smiled weakly, hoping it was enough for Ron. It probably wasn't, but he didn't push on it, instead suggesting that they should play a card game that his father had taught him during the summer. No matter how many times Ron or anyone for that matter would reassure her that none of this was real…deep down, that tremor shook once more.