Chapter 6 – Sweet Dreams

It was pitch black. The moon shone silver, bright and enticing, but its glow did not reach him as he walked under the trees. He could barely see a yard in front of him. The place, or what little of it he could make out, was unfamiliar to him. He did not know why he was here either. Could not remember. But somehow, he knew his steps were guiding him to a precise destination. So he kept walking, let his feet find their way. The woods were quiet. Not disturbingly so, though. It was… peaceful, respectful. Why he had that feeling, he could not tell.

He kept walking.

Soon, he heard voices. Not from very far it seemed. One step, two steps… ten more. Then, there was light. From between the trees he saw a large blaze. Many types of incense were burning, and the breeze carried the scent to where he stood. As he got near, he saw it was a clearing and that there were about two dozen people around the fire wearing hooded cloaks. In the middle of the circle, next to the flames, were a man and a woman.

The man talked.

"In the season of darkening, the Lord of the House of Death receives the Spirits in his Hall. He is The Dark One, called Cernunnos the Horned One. He is the Torc Bearer, The Guardian of the Cauldron of Plenty.

Hear us now, Horned One, Dark one, Receiver of the Dead, Granter of Rest, Patron of the Feast in the Land of the Dead. We Your children pray You to come in, to let Your gaze fall upon this Sacred Ground, to indwell our rite and give us Your blessing."

The woman called.

"O Black Crow! Let Your dark wings caress our souls. Enfold Your devoted in Your ageless secrets. O Mórrígane! Forge our will; inflate in us Your strength, so we can find in ourselves the power to do Your bidding.

Hear us now, Red One, Great Queen, Lady of the Reaping, Mistress of the Cauldron and Prophecy. We Your children pray that You be with us, that You look kindly upon this holy rite, that You come into our Grove and give us Your blessing. Know that our hearts swell with Your presence."

The fire flared, and the man talked to the assembly.

"Tonight, we are gathered to salute and honour our departed. The curtain between this realm and the spirit world has grown thin and fragile. We call to our Beloved Dead, the blessed Ancestors, to join our feast and receive due offering, so they never fall into oblivion. Come to the Gates, honoured ones; hear our call, we Your children who remember.

Be merry, my brothers, my sisters! For The Great Queen has taken our deceased under her protection."

Then the congregation recited as one.

"To the Elders! Happy meeting, happy farewell and happy meeting again! May the Goddess bless you!"

Suddenly, the flames were snuffed out, and the clearing was plunged into darkness. The gathering went silent, in private prayer. From his position behind the trees, he held his breath, taken by the solemnity of that silence. Then, without warning, there was a deafening crack, and the fire came back to life with a sparkling explosion. The flames were incredibly high, several feet over the tallest circle member's head. The woman spoke out, a smile upon her lips.

"And now the Dead God is reborn. And now the Crone walks with the God returned." Then, the partakers of the rite closed the circle by taking each other's hands. "This is the circle of renaissance. The seed becomes fruit, and the fruit becomes seed. This is the circle of infinity."

They let their hoods fall and shouted.

"May the Goddess bless you!"

By the clearing's border, he watched as they broke the circle. Some went to collect drinks and food; others to fetch their instrument which they started to play right away. Still, he watched as some sat to eat, but most danced on the ancient rhythm and sang in old Irish Gaelic. That's when he saw her. His dark Beauty. And she saw him. She smiled at him from across the clearing. Her tranquil angel smile. Then she murmured, but, somehow, he heard her words as if she had poured them in his ear.

"Athblian shona duit, Ard Rí Aindreas."

Draco woke up abruptly and sat up, panting. For an instant, he looked frantically around the room. A little confused, he'd expected to still be in a forest. Taking deep breaths, he fell back heavily onto to mattress. He lay there, his breathing a little steadier by the second. The bedroom was utterly still. A few yards away, Blaise snored lightly and rolled in his sleep.

Draco stretched his arm to seize his pocket watch from the bedside table and grabbed his wand from under his pillow. He cast a dim light and read the watch's face. 3h07. Frigging perfect! He groaned. If remembering his dreams meant that he was to wake up like this every night, he would rather go without remembering. And he remembered that one, alright.

He had never in his entire life recalled a dream with so much accuracy, with so many details. To the point that it was a trifle scary. He remembered the feeling of the leaves as they brushed him while he walked. He could still feel the sponge-like sensation of the forest soil under his feet. Could still smell the scent of burning logs and incense. He could recite by heart every single word spoken in that clearing.

And of course, she had been there.

After yesterday night's dream, he had wondered about her identity. Now, he was dying to know who she was. At any rate, he now knew she was not a real person. Or wasn't anymore. Nobody respected the old rites any longer. For that was what it had been. Draco knew it even if he had never attended such rite himself. The wizarding community had long dumped the Old Ways. Nobody abided by them nowadays, and that had been the case for at least two centuries.

For hours, or so it seemed, Draco tried to find sleep, but it was useless. He kept replaying the forest scene in is mind, over and over again. And the words she had addressed to him. He had recognised Gaelic, and guessed it was probably Irish Gaelic, but did not know enough of it to catch the meaning. But he had gotten that she had called him Aindreas, which was an Irish surname.

While rolling around in his bed, he tried to convince himself that it was all a product of his imagination. He tried to reason with himself that his subconscious had mixed up his mysterious dream beauty and the no less mysterious Ginny Weasley in her Mórrígane attire. Unfortunately, as he thought it, he knew it was more than a little farfetched, even for his complex mind. His brain simply couldn't have imagine that unknown, though beautiful, woman talking to him in Irish Gaelic, calling him Aindreas, and that, during a ceremony that hadn't been perform in over two centuries.

Draco knew that dreams could possess certain signification, but it had never happened to him before. Nor had it happened to anyone he knew. This brought him back to the question he had been asking himself over the passed weeks: what the hell was happening to him?

His question still unanswered, he went back to sleep.

"Wake up and shine, Captain!"

That was Zabini's wake up call.

Draco really hated mornings. Especially early mornings. And six o'clock on a Sunday morning definitely qualified as early. Inhumanly so, in Draco's opinion. Nevertheless, he had scheduled training on the Pitch at seven o'clock, for he had found that sleep deprivation tended to make his players' ferocity scale a notch or two… or five. It also tended to reduce his patience to none, which in turn seemed to motivate them to give their captain their best.

Consequently, Draco got out of bed eyes barely opened, dragged his feet to the bathroom while yawning rudely at his roommate, splashed water on his face and got dressed. All that in his team's best interests. Hope the buggers appreciate the sacrifice, was his thought as he made his way to the common room with his friend.

There, by the fireplace, waited the other five team members plus two reserve players. Gregory, the other beater, was asleep, curled awkwardly on a chaise. A position that seemed almost impossible to maintain considering his size. Even so, he'd managed to fit and drool on the cushioned arm. Malcolm Baddock, the team keeper, sat silently in an armchair. Neil and Melody, the Harper twins and incidentally two of the three Slytherin's chasers, shared a love seat. The two sixth years were arguing about something insignificant, as usual. Theodore was also in a characteristic position, set apart from the group, propped up nonchalantly against the mantelpiece.

As he approached his teammates, Draco tilted his chin at Theo. The slender young man understood and leaned toward the hearth. He contacted the kitchens to ask for breakfast, since it wouldn't be served in the Great Hall for another hour at least. The house-elves being their usual efficient selves, it took about five minutes for a trolley to appear. The smell alone succeeded in pulling Greg out of his sleep. The blond Slytherin went straight for the coffee pot. Hmm, coffee… Life was looking up.

Draco noted that Baddock looked a little nervous and didn't meet his gaze. Maybe not so surprising considering that the fourth year was a friend of Pritchard's. Draco hoped it meant he'd made his point clear.

They ate mostly in silence, except for Neil and Melody incessant squabbles. Melody was always endlessly annoyed with her twin brother who in return always patronized his sister on the basis that he was a whole ten minutes her elder. Their antagonism was the main reason Melody had decided to try out this year. Her brother, who had been on the team for two years, had gone on about how girls shouldn't meddle with Quidditch… among other things. Unfortunately, that was a dominant mentality among the Magical World's elite. Draco had lived too long with strong-willed women to pay credit to such antiquated ways. Narcissia, his own mother, had Lucius, a seriously fearsome wizard, eating out of her dainty palm. And of course there was Pansy who was a formidable opponent, no matter the field. Thus, Draco hadn't been all that shocked when the sixth year girl had revealed she could play a mean game of Quidditch.

A little before seven, the Slytherin Team entered the Pitch and started to warm up under Draco's close supervision. When their captain allowed them to quit the field, it was well past noon.

Draco watched his team members make their way in the locker rooms, exhausted and sweaty, despite the cool November weather. Blaise joined him, and together they gathered the equipment back in the secured box. Fifteen minutes later, they walked in the locker rooms' direction.

Blaise finally launched, "You don't think you went a bit far today?"

Draco raised an eyebrow at him.

"Absolutely not! If they'd worked harder, I wouldn't have kept them so long," he retorted.

"Come on! It wasn't that bad."

"When you miss one…" Draco started.

"It's one too many. I know. But did you have to keep the whole team? I mean, it was only Neil and Malcolm who gave you trouble," Blaise tried to reason with his captain.

He shook his blond head.

"You know I don't work like that. If they pull this crap again during our first match against Gryffindor next Friday, it's the whole team that will suffer. I think they should realize that now," he finally settled.

By his tone alone, Blaise knew the matter was closed. They arrive at the boys' locker room as the others were leaving. Neil was mumbling to himself when he spotted Draco.

"Is this how it's going to be for the rest of the season? If so, I think I'll reserve myself a bed in Pomfrey's infirmary… permanently," he whined rubbing his right shoulder.

"Don't listen to him," Melody cut in as she exited the girls' locker room. "He's just a big baby!" she added and hit Neil, quite hard at that, on the shoulder he was currently nursing. That made him hissed and her smiled.

Draco and Blaise moved past them, into the locker room. They put the box away and started to peel their sweat-soaked uniform. While doing so, Draco let his mind wander. He thought about last night's dream, about the mysterious woman, about Samhain Sabbat, about Ginevra Weasley's enigma, about how she had looked in that revealing black dress…

"Are you ok, mate?" Blaise cut in his line of thoughts. Probably a good thing, too.

"I'm alright. Why?"

"You had a funny face just now." He looked concerned. "Is it about what I said? Because you know I'm not questioning the way you train the team. I just thought you've been a bit harsh today. Especially with Neil. I know he's a whiner, but that sister of his really did pull a nasty trick on him with that feint. I thought for sure that she'd dislocate his shoulder. I'm telling you, man, that girl is mean!"

Draco chuckled.

"That, she is." Which was exactly why he has put her on the team. "But, really, it's nothing you said. You know you can criticize all you want, and I'll always do as I damn well please!" he said with a cocky smile.

It was Blaise turn to chuckle.

"Don't I know it!"

Draco looked at his friend open face. His first reflex was to keep his worries to himself. On the other hand, for some time now, he'd decided that he would stop pulling away from his friends. It's as good a time as any to start, he thought as he entered the shower stall next to Blaise's.

"It's the dreams. You know, our first morning back at Hogwarts, I told you about a dream I couldn't remember. I've been having those dreams ever since. It's been driving me crazy."

Blaise stayed silent a moment.

"I thought it was something like that." He paused. "We share a room, Dray. I noticed you didn't sleep well."

"Yeah, well," Draco started, a little uncomfortable. "Two nights ago, when I woke up in the morning, I remember a bit of my dream. It was the face of woman."

"Someone you know?"

"No, I've never seen her before. Anyway. Last night I had another dream and I remembered that one. In fact, I remember everything about it so well, it's eerie. When it starts, I'm walking in the forest at night. I don't know what I'm doing there, but I know I'm going somewhere. After a moment I arrive at a clearing. There's a large fire and about two dozen people gathered there. There are incenses burning. In the middle of the circle there are people. I gathered they must have been some kind of priest and priestess. And then they go through prayers to the Horned One and the Mórrígane. I'm sure what I saw in that clearing is the old rite of Samhain Sabbat, although I'm not 100% sure since I've never actually see the real thing. Well, after that they all let their hood fall, because they were all hooded, you see? That's when I saw her. The woman I remember from the night before. And she talked to me… in Irish Gaelic!"

Draco heard his friend turn off his shower. He took a minute to rinse the shampoo off his hair and exited his stall, a fluffy white towel around his hips. Blaise was getting dressed, but looked deep in thought.

"What do you think?"

Blaise looked at him.

"The fact that you're telling me all this means that you've already come to the conclusion that your dreams are no ordinary dreams." He paused, thinking. "You said they were burning incenses?" Draco acquiesced. "Can you remember what it smelled like?"

"It smelled strongly of orange and menthe," he answered after a moment.

Blaise nodded slowly.

"I think you're right. I think you really did dream of the old Samhain Sabbat." He explained. "Orange essence is often used in divination, and menthe is known to enhance psychic abilities. Those two were strongly linked to the traditional Samhain night since it's the perfect moment to contact spirits." Draco was looking at him surprised. "Don't look at me like that! I may not know a lot about the Old Ways, but I'm not Pomona's pet student for nothing! I know about plants."

Draco shouldn't have been surprised. If there was a single class Blaise cared about, it was Herbology. He himself didn't understand the liking, but his friend had always said he liked to get dirty. Go figure!

"As for the Gaelic speaking… It would be interesting to check it out in the library."

Draco nodded, he'd thought as much. Then he realised that while he was still rubbing his hair dry with a towel, Blaise was already dressed and ready to go.

"What's the rush?"

"I've got to go." He took a look at his watch. "Crap! I'm late!"

"Late for what?"

"Late to meet Pavarti in the library." He was gathering the rest of his stuff hastily.

Draco's eyes widened a bit.

"The library? Not exactly one of your usual date spot, is it?"

Blaise smiled wickedly.

"You don't get it. It's not a date per se. She's usually at the library around noon on Sundays. So I'm late to meet her by coincidence in the library."

Draco shook his head. "I've never seen you go into so much trouble for a girl."

"Ah! That's because I've never needed to. She's one hell of a challenge that one!" He winked and dashed out of the locker room.

The remaining Slytherin turned his back to the room to collect his clothes from his locker. He kept shaking his head in disbelief. Never thought I would see the day when Zabini was having trouble reducing a girl to a lovesick puddle. Then he heard the room's door open. He must have forget something in his rush.

"If you left anything behind, I can take care of it for you. I wouldn't want to make you anymore late for your almost-date." He chortled.

"Huh. I don't know if Blaise forgot anything. And I'm not sure what an almost-date is, but I know I'm not late for one."

Draco froze. This was definitely not Blaise's voice. He turned around to face the intruder, although he already knew who he would find in the doorway.

Ginevra was walking in his direction. He couldn't help but notice the resolutely feminine swagger that was emphasized by her remarkably tight worn-out jeans. Then he recalled he wore nothing but a towel and, consequently, noticing those kinds of things was not the best course of action right now.

She stopped about a yard away from him and, slowly, took in his state of undress. She let her gaze travel over his body from head to toes. And then it went up again, lingering over his chest. A light pink flush appeared under her freckles. Draco knew his frame was nothing like Blaise's brawny one, but his lean muscles still weren't anything to be ashamed of. He suddenly was possessed with an insane urge to flex his pectorals.

He refrained.

Barely.

She finally cleared her throat and met his eyes. And served him a smile worthy of any Slytherin. A wicked smile that made him think of dark corners and illicit caresses. You wear a towel, Malfoy! Try to remember that. When she spoke, it was with a disturbingly innocent tone considering the aforementioned wicked smile.

"I really like the towel, by the way. Thinking of making a fashion statement out of it? Because this is definitely a… fascinating side of you."

"So they keep telling me," he responded smugly.

She snorted and rolled her eyes at him.

"Pompous Slytherin!"

"Why, thank you. I'm trying."

She chuckled. He side smiled. Were they flirting? For some reason, the thought was not as alarming to Draco as it had been two months ago. He didn't get to push farther the reflection, for she sobered a bit.

"Anyway. I didn't come down here to discuss your assets, fascinating or otherwise."

"A pity. So… To what do I own the honour of you Gryffindorish presence? Here, in the boys' locker room, no less."

He was abruptly suspicious. She was a Gryffindor, although apparently fallen out of grace where the Golden Trio was concerned.

She dug into her bag and extracted a flask out of it.

"Here. Take this," she said, holding it out to him.

Draco frowned. He felt more and more distrustful. He didn't take the flagon, but simply crossed his arms over his bare chest.

"What is it?"

"It's a sleeping potion. The somniferous part of it is really very light. The main benefit of this potion is that it induces dreamless sleep. Take two or three drops of it, and your nights should become much more restful."

Draco was exasperated.

"Was it Blaise who told you I have sleep troubles?"

She looked surprised.

"No. Blaise told me no such thing. I simply have eyes. It's obvious you're exhausted. But more than that, I would have been extremely shocked if Blaise had shared something so personal about you with me. I'm a good judge of character and I'm quite sure he is one of the most trustworthy people I know." She paused, and then added with a side-smile, "Well, maybe not when it comes to a girl's virtue, that is."

Draco knew at once that his had been an unfair thought. She was right. Blaise would never go babble about it to anyone except maybe Pansy. But he was not about to admit it to her.

"Well, I don't know. You and he seemed awfully cosy with one another yesterday night. How is that?" It was true now that he thought of it.

She raised both eyebrows.

"We're partners in Herbology. Didn't he tell you that?"

No, he hadn't.

"He is the only seventh year Slytherin who picked that class this year," she started, "so he was the only one who didn't already have a partner. I asked, he accepted. We got to know each other and realised we had a lot in common, starting with a vast interest in Herbology."

Draco snorted at that. Yeah, I'll bet you got to know each other very well. He knew exactly how Blaise Zabini got to know any female. He found he didn't care for the thought one bit.

"Yeah, I'm sure you get along just fine," he said, his voice thick with sarcasm.

She blinked at him.

"Are you… jealous?"

He was quite startled by her blunt question.

"I… you think… I'm not… You've got to be kidding!"

Alright. That comeback wouldn't convince anyone.

"Okay. If you say so," she drawled. "In any case, there's nothing, nor will there ever be anything between Blaise and myself," she settled.

Somehow, Draco found it doubtful.

"A girl unresponsive to the famous Zabini charm? Now, that would be a first." Although, he recalled, that Patil girl seems quite resistant too.

"Oh, he is almost impossibly charming, no doubt, but I know we're not meant to be together," she simply stated.

"Really? So what? You would say it's not… fated?" he proposed. Let's see how she reacts to that.

Her eyes sharpened momentarily.

"Yes. You could say that," she said quietly.

"So, who's your destiny, Ginevra Weasley?" he asked derisively and then spat, "Potter?"

Ginny grunted and shook her head.

"Harry and I would never have made it on the long term, and it has nothing to do with Fate."

"No need for you to tell me why. The boy is agonizingly irritating. No one could blame you for ditching the git."

She smiled self-deprecatingly.

"I'm afraid I'm the one who's been ditched. In fact, the reason he gave for doing so is what made me realize we would never work together as a couple."

He kept looking at her expectantly. When she didn't elaborate, he sighed impatiently.

"And what would that reason be? Come on! I'm dying, here. If the Boy Wonder screwed up anything, I want to be in the know."

She laughed.

"By the Gods! You're impossible!" Then, she sighed. "Let's say he underestimated me greatly, and that's not something I take very well. Never have, never will. But I don't hold a grudge, even if I was pretty pissed for a time. That's just who he is."

Draco looked at her, then. Really her. Not the Gryffindor. Not the Weasel King's little sister. Not the girl who had worshiped Harry Potter for years. Her. Ginevra Weasley. A smart girl who was keeping up with seventh year classes. A girl with amazing chaser skills at Quidditch. A girl who would put herself on the line for the sake of those she cared for. A girl with a sturdy backbone who could cast one hell of a Bat-bogey Hex. A girl who, he'd noticed, was becoming a gorgeous woman.

"You're not the kind of person I would ever make the mistake of underestimating," he said quietly.

Her gaze met his unwaveringly. As it had happened before, he got the sensation she was reading not his mind, but his soul. A touch he could almost feel deep inside. Like the night before, the tension suddenly rose between them. Like never before, he felt that impossible force that drew him to her. His gaze flicked down to her red heart-shaped lips as she wetted them. He wanted to kiss her. Needed to. Right this instant, he couldn't think of anything better than to crush her short curvy body against his. Somehow, it was the right thing to do. This time, it was she who drew back from the moment.

She held out the vial out to him.

"Here. Take it. Please." She sounded a bit breathless.

Mechanically, he took it. She curtly nodded, turned around and bolted out of the room, leaving Draco dumbfounded, confused and painfully aroused in his white towel.