I don't have much to say except for the fact that I didn't actually do research on Divination and prophecies and psychics from Harry Potter before I wrote this chapter or after, so I was just going off what I remembered. I hope there aren't too many discrepancies.
Disclaimer: I own nothing!
Chapter 5: Prophecy Written in Fire
"Don't you ever touch Stiles again," Derek snarled in Kate's face, hovering over her with bared canines. They were both covered in a thin sheen of sweat, their chests heaving, muscles quavering.
Bruises are already appearing along Kate's hips, wrists and thighs. Derek had been uncharacteristically rough, animalistic almost. It was a welcome relief from his ridiculously soft fingers and careful touches, from his submissiveness. She liked angry, stupidly protective Derek a lot more. "I don't know what you're talking about. I haven't done anything to that disgrace of a Slytherin," Kate lied, mirth sparkling in her eyes as she reached up to pull him down to her.
Derek wrenched back, wrapping angry fingers around her wrists. "Don't lie to me!"
"I'm not. I haven't laid a finger on that mudblood. Why would I?" She was only serving to piss him off more.
"Don't call him that," Derek snarled, tightening his fingers, "He is better than all of the Slytherins over all of the years combined. Do not call him that."
Kate rolled her eyes, sneering. "Sounds like you have a little crush, Derek. Maybe he should be the one you're fucking." She yanked her wrists from him, sitting back against the headboard.
"Maybe I will," Derek growled quietly, glaring at her as she blinked back at him in surprise, "Don't touch him again or I will personally rip out your throat. Don't even look at him. I know that you were the one who hexed him during the match."
"How would you know that?" Kate said, her voice icy and quiet.
"Fire hexes are your specialty." That's all he was going to say. Pulling himself from the bed, he started jerking on his clothing, the seams protesting loudly at his unnecessary roughness.
Kate scrambled to her knees, staring after him as he gathered his things, dumbfounded. No one had ever left her before. She'd always been the one to leave. This could not be happening. "The hex wouldn't have killed him," she lied, too flustered to control her pulse. She'd actually been aiming to kill the nuisance, and it pissed her off that he'd survived. He hampered her efforts to make Derek trust her.
Derek glanced over his shoulder, standing straight after snatching up the strap off his bag. "He almost did die. If Lydia and Melissa hadn't gotten to him with their fast spellwork, he would have." His eyes were dark, the pulps large, closed off to her. He moved to the door.
She cursed silently. She'd lost his trust. Desperately, she tried again, "Derek, he doesn't love you, not like I do. If you leave, he won't give you what I give you."
Derek didn't look back as he pulled the door open. "On his worst day, he is better than you on your best."
…..
Stiles sighed loudly, staring up at the ceiling of the canopy above his bed, watching the blue birds he'd conjured flit across the wood. No matter how hard he tried, he couldn't seem to drift to sleep. Something was nagging at the back of his mind, like something was going wrong somewhere in the castle. Crawling to the end of his bed, he fished through his trunk before flopping backwards.
When the dormitory door opened, he thought nothing of it. It could have been a number of the other boys. All of the curtains had been closed when he'd wandered in, but that didn't mean they hadn't been out exploring the castles. Each one of them had been on their fair share of nightly excursions.
He let out a squeak of surprise when his curtain was pulled aside, pressing his book to his chest. Derek clambered into his bed, sliding the curtain closed behind him. Without saying a word, he curled into a ball against Stiles side and let his eyes slip shut.
"Hey, dude, what's wrong?" Stiles asked, not sure where to place his hands. They'd shared sleeping arrangements before, but most of those times had been in the spur of the moment; the couch after movie nights, the air mattress during the snow storm, Scott's bed that one night he'd managed to actually get Derek and Scott astonishingly drunk for no particular reason. This seemed to be on a more premeditated scale though if the just showered warmth rolling off of Derek had anything to say about it.
"I just want to sleep," Derek murmured, pressing his nose into the crook of Stiles' neck and shoulder. "I don't want to talk about it."
"We don't have to," Stiles said, closing his book and setting it on his nightstand before settling into a more comfortable position, one arm slung above his head and the other pushed between his body and Derek's. His eyes following the birds, he murmured, "But if you do, I'll be here to listen."
Derek nodded, inhaling deeply. As he released it, the tension coiled in his muscles faded.
Flicking his wand, the birds exploded into small, blue flowers that showered over them. Stiles sighed, and finally sleep washed over him, pulling him into its silent depths.
…..
"Stilinski, get your ass up!" Jackson shouted from the bathroom, toothpaste crowding his mouth. He marched from the bathroom still in his pajamas, tooth brush sticking out of the side of his mouth. "Get up! If Hale finds out you cut again, he's going to give you detention all next semester, and then Captain is going to burst a vein and hang us from the goal posts!" He jerked the curtains back revealing Derek with his limbs wrapped around Stiles. "Oh, for fuck's sake!"
"What is it this time? Did you find a vibrator?" Aiden shouted, bouncing over, excitement in his voice. He wanted blackmail on the boy badly, just to have it, but since Stiles was a master at research, he'd so far been able to counter any blackmail material against him with much stronger blackmail of his own.
"No! Stilinski, can't you find somewhere else to screw your boyfriend?" Jackson shouted, storming back towards the bathroom.
Stiles, still sleepy and warm, wiping drool from the corner of his mouth, called, "I don't see why it matters if we don't wake you up."
"Because you're in the same room as five other sleeping guys! Go find a corner of the castle like every other couple!" Jackson emerged from the bathroom, face and mouth clean. He pointed his toothbrush at the boys. "It's disgusting and vulgar."
"No, that's your mouth," Stiles spat back, snarky. Sitting up slowly, he shook Derek awake. "Anyways, we're not actually doing anything. We are literally just sleeping." Derek, bleary-eyed but alert, shuffled from the room, headed for the Gryffindor dormitories. It was a normal routine now. If Derek wasn't sleeping in Stiles' bed since that first night, then Stiles was in Derek's. On those rare occasions that they slept separately, Stiles just stayed up watching movies or reading.
"You've got to be lying," Aiden piped up with a roll of his eyes, "He sleeps in your bed more than his own, and you're telling me you guys haven't screwed yet?"
Stiles shrugged. "We're friends, not fuck buddies. Do you want us doing it in the bed next to you?"
"No, but seriously, even I would have tapped that by now, and I'm straight as they come," Jackson said, straightening his tie in the mirror he kept above his nightstand.
Matt laughed derisively. "Do you realize how full of shit you are? Are we going to have to bring up you eye-fucking that Hufflepuff, Lahey, again?"
"No," Jackson said quickly, turning threateningly on Matt who backed down with raised hands and laughter on his tongue. He turned back to Stiles. "Danny would be ashamed of you."
Stiles waved the comment away. "Danny is always ashamed of me for something. Anyways, you guys are forgetting that to have sexy times, the other person also has to want to have sexy time with you." He sprang from his bed, quickly pulling on his uniform.
The three boys stared at him with looks that said they were utterly finished with his shit. "Derek fucking Hale willingly crawls into your bed on a nightly basis. I think that speaks for itself," Jackson said with a hard roll of his eyes.
"Whatever. You guys are delusional," Stiles said, grabbing his bag and hurrying from the room, "See you in Charms."
…..
"Hey, guys," Stiles greeted breathlessly as he slid into the seat across from Derek at the small round table in the Divination Tower just as the bell rang to signal the end of the passing period. He'd had to sprint up the flights of stairs to get there in time. He was hot and sticky and not at all pleased.
Lydia pursed her red lips at him. "Why were you almost late?" she asked with a quirk to her eyebrow.
"Someone charmed my bag so that it would try to tear off my hand whenever I opened it," Stiles explained, glaring at the offending object, "Peter had to help me with it. I swear to god he sniffed me every two seconds and kept smirking. You'd know all of this if you had actually been in class today, Lydia."
"Don't sass me. I'm not the one a teacher is looking to pin against a table," she shot back. "Derek, why does your uncle have to be so creepy?"
Derek glanced over at them. "That's just Peter. He likes to get in other people's business and mess with stuff. Chances are he doesn't actually want to screw you senseless, but more he wants to fuck with your relationship to someone…" He trailed off, his eyes narrowing at the table.
Before any of them could say another word on the subject, Professor Victoria Argent strode into the room in all of her red-headed glory. She dropped a book onto her cloth covered table at the front of the classroom, making the crystal ball in the center jump in its holder. "Today, you'll be attempting divination with a crystal ball, and next semester, after the break, we'll get more into the use of the crystal balls."
"Professor, you're introducing something completely new on the last day of term?" someone at the back of the class asked.
"Yes, Greenberg, do you have a problem with that?" Victoria asked, her eyes cold and far from amused.
"No ma'am," he squeaked.
"I have a question, Professor," someone else piped up. Stiles would have turned around to see who it was, but he was staring intently into the thick smoke swirling through the crystal of his, Derek's and Lydia's ball.
Victoria raised her brow in a small semblance of surprise. "Boyd, yes, what is it? Please tell me it's not another stupid question."
'Oh. It's Boyd.' Stiles blinked slowly, lifting his head to crane his neck around.
"I was just wondering, why did you pick Divination to teach when you don't have the second sight yourself?" Boyd asked, sitting beside Isaac and Erica. They looked to him curiously.
Victoria nodded, walking around her small table before starting a slow pace up and down before the students. "When I was a child, Divination was simply an interesting topic. I was never interested in actually telling the future, whether for myself or others. I was interesting in the mechanics of it. How were those men and women who told the future able to derive meaning from cards, tea leaves, sticks, the stars, even simple crystal orbs? Even though I fail at most attempts of telling the future myself, I have found a number of students who excel. It's simply an interest of how it's done, and I still haven't completely found my answer yet. So I teach the mechanics, and hope that someone will one day have that answer. Does that answer your question?" She locked her eyes on Boyd.
"Yes, Professor, thank you."
"Now, let's get started for today. You will be determining how the crystal ball is supposed to be used, and see if you can't… use it yourself. After thirty minutes, you'll all be free to go, but each group must provide a small paragraph on how you believe it works. Flip to page 641, read the short passage on their history, and start brainstorming. Begin." Victoria twirled her wand, a timer appearing beside her counting down from thirty.
Lydia rolled her eyes, flipping her book open as Derek did the same. "I hate crystal balls, I prefer tarot cards," she said, pursing her lips as she scanned quickly over the passage, "I'll get started on the paragraph. Do you two care if I go for the scientific approach?"
"Fine by me," Derek muttered, still reading.
"Stiles?" Lydia asked, looking for his go-head. When he didn't reply, she glanced over at him. "Stiles?"
Stiles was staring into the crystal ball, his eyes clouded and unfocussed.
"Stiles, what are you looking at?" she asked, peering through it to Derek's frown on the other side. He was staring at Stiles, worry written plain on his face. "Hey, Stiles." Lydia reached out a cautious hand.
Stiles eyes flew wide, scrambling away from the table, and suddenly, he was screaming.
"Stiles!" Lydia and Derek shouted, jumping to their feet beside him.
…..
Stiles was burning. His flesh slowly seared from his bones, his hair turning slowly to ash on his head. It felt as if his blood was boiling in his veins, his lungs cooking from the heat and smoke he was breathing in. His ears were ringing with the screams of those around him, women and children and men.
He coughed, scrambling towards a window. He slammed his shoulder against the bars, but they remained stationary, not budging an inch. He reached his arm through futilely, scratching at dirt and grass.
"Dad!" The voice that rose from his throat was not his own. "Dad, where are you?"
He stared through bars, up at the moon hanging high in the sky. A woman, her hair brushing her breasts, laughed wildly outside, her features lit by the light of the fire. Her hair was a dirty blonde, her eyes a dark brown. A silver pendant gleamed against her sternum. Two men stood behind her, talking and laughing loudly, but he couldn't make out any of their features.
"Dad!" Stiles shouted again, yanking his shirt over his mouth and nose, coughing and sobbing into the fabric. He could barely see, but he could feel his Alpha searching frantically for a way out, trying to save her pack. He could feel her dying.
"I'm here! I'm right here!" Peter shouted, running towards him. He was already too late. The ceiling gave one ominous creak, and was caving in above him.
"Dad!" Stiles forced out before the pain engulfed everything.
…..
"Stiles!" a voice, familiar and grounding, yelled in his ear. He was being shaken carefully, the entire class staring at them.
Crouched at his side, Lydia nearly screamed, "What was that, Professor?" staring up at Victoria.
Stiles was covered in sweat. His hair was soaked, his clothes damp. His eyes were darting around, unable to focus. All he could see was the brightness, the flickering of flames. Smoke crowded his nose and mouth. The screams of those people, trapped beneath their own home, rang through his head. Pain crawled across his skin. "Dad!" Stiles whispered, his voice harsh from the smoke clouding his lungs, "Dad!" He struggled against the hands holding him.
"Stiles! Stiles, calm down!" That was Derek, his breath warm against Stiles' already burning neck, his voice soothing. He held Stiles close to him, against his chest, holding him still as he struggled.
"They killed my dad! Th-they killed my family!" Stiles said wildly, eyes finding Derek's behind him.
"Stiles, what are you talking about? No one has touched your dad. He's safe in the muggle world," Derek said, staring back at him.
The confusion was starting to settle in. "My… my dad and… they were… who were those people? That man wasn't my dad. I don't know those people."
Derek's eyebrows furrowed together. "Stiles, what did you see?"
"I… I don't know. People were burning. These three people had trapped them and set a fire. And that man, I thought he was my dad, he was burning too. And then I died…" He groaned, dropping his pounding head between his hands, clenching his eyes closed tightly. The fire still danced on his retinas. "I don't know. Why would someone set a family on fire?"
"I don't know," Derek told him.
Lydia was still staring at Victoria, her hand clutching at Stiles' knee. Whether it was to reassure her or him, she didn't really know. "Professor Argent, what was that?" she hissed.
"That, Ms. Martin, was a prophecy. Looks like Mr. Stilinski is a Seer," Victoria explained, her eyes scanning over him, "You should take him back to the dorms. He'll need to rest. The first is always the worst."
So, I don't remember what they consider psychics in Harry Potter or what exactly constituted Divination and such, so I just called it second sight/being a Seer just because. Hope you didn't hate it. Comments are always welcome!