Clairvoyance and its Consequences

Chapter 5_______________________________________________________________

Hermione sat angrily at the edge of the Great Hall, glaring at the people dancing gracefully on the floor, the sound of a slow, flowing song from the Weird Sisters filling her ears.

Ron could be such a prat. Really, she was over it. She had come to the Yule Ball to have fun and he had just gone and ruined the entire night. Fratenising with the enemy - REALLY! What sort of excuse was that? Big deal if she'd gone to the damn Ball with Viktor Krum. Hadn't Ron been harping on about how much of a brilliant seeker Viktor was even before they'd seen him catch the snitch at the World Cup over the summer?

Fratenising with the enemy... Ron seriously had problems!

Hermione scanned the room before her, searching for her date. She hadn't seen him since he had gone to get them drinks and that was over half an hour ago. Hermione hoped Ron hadn't done anything to him. She knew how angry Ron had been when she'd stormed away. Jealousy got to Ron like that...

Hermione's eyes paused mid-search when she saw someone heading towards her. Draco Malfoy was strolling with cat-like grace towards her, something between a smile and a smirk curving his lips. He was looking straight at her and Hermione knew that wasn't a good sign ... especially with that look on his face.

"Well don't you look marvelous tonight, Granger," he drawled, coming to stop in front of her. "You almost look pure for once. No dead bush as an excuse for hair, no overfilled book bag over your delicate shoulders. Pity that angry look has to ruin your softly made-up face."

Hermione stood up abruptly. "What are you playing at, Malfoy?" she hissed angrily. "Can't you see I'm not in the mood for you heartless insults?"

"Insults?" Draco sneered back. "I'm not insulting you in any way. If anything, I'm complimenting you. In fact, to be truly honest I came over to see if a little Mudblood like yourself would like to dance with the handsome man I am."

"Man?" Hermione repeated exasperatedly. "You're not a man, you're a slimy little ferret who likes to bounce around the Entrance Hall for fun!"

A pink tinge worked its way onto his previously pale cheeks and his sneer deepened. He reached forward and grabbed her wrist as she made to storm away and held onto it very, very tightly. Hermione gasped loudly at the pain and tried to pull away, only to have the pressure of his hand tighten around her wrist painfully.

"Let go of me NOW, Malfoy!" Hermione screeched in agony, causing shocked looks from the crowd nearby.

"What's the matter, Granger?" Draco snarled. "Is it painful to have a more decent man to touch you than Weasley?"

"You leave Ron out this, Malfoy!" Hermione screamed. "My feelings for him have nothing to do with -"

"Herm-oh-ninny?" the voice of a Bulgarian boy sounded behind them. Draco let go of Hermione's wrist quickly and looked around to see Viktor standing there, slouching and staring at Draco with a strange look in the black depths of his eyes. Draco backed away quickly and disappeared into the crowd of dancing students.

"Herm-oh-ninny," Viktor said heading forward and handing her a bottle of butterbeer. "That boy - Was that boy hurting you?"

"No Viktor," Hermione said dully as she opened her drink, "it was nothing really. Just a little disagreement we're bound to finish one day."

Viktor gave an odd sort of smile and began to talk about the Quidditch game he'd played in Australia the year previous. Hermione's thoughts however, were circling over and over again across the hatred she and Draco held for each other. Ron was nothing worthy of being a prat against him.

She hated Draco Malfoy.

Hermione sat up abruptly, her back hitting the back of a chair. She blinked a few times and looked around at her surroundings. She was in the study, researching with Harry for resources they could use on their Polyjuice Potion. Harry sat sleeping beside her, his breathing coming out evenly as his head rested on Unique Transforming Potions. In front of her sat another book, this one titled The Effects of Incorrect Potions and beside it was an empty glass of the drink Harry had fetched for her before they had started their study.

A great yawn escaped her as she shut the book before her and rubbed her eyes in an attempt to wake up more fully, going over her most resent dream in her head. This action had become a permanent habit of hers. She always went over her dreams as though it were an essay she was about to hand in, trying to allow herself to understand it perfectly.

This one, however, was very hard to understand. She could remember the scene from the Yule Ball in her fourth year, but the resurfacing of it in her dreams was just ... strange. It was the second dream in a week that had shown an event from the past and outlined the hatred Draco and Hermione once held for one another. It wasn't really clairvoyant like the rest of the dreams that she'd had since the summer, but it was somewhat... reminiscent.

It was just strange.

Suddenly, Hermione's attention was brought back to reality when Harry stirred beside her, a moan escaping through his lips as he did so. He slowly lifted his head from the book and sat up with a stretch and yawn. He looked at Hermione and frowned at the distant look on her face.

"Surely not another dream?" he said. "I mean, Voldemort's been rather quiet over the last week..."

"Not a dream about Voldemort, Harry," Hermione said, looking at him. She could tell him, right? "I - I had a dream about - well - Draco. It was odd, though. I mean, it was a scene from the past; back when we hated each other. It's the second dream like that I've had this week. I just - I just don't understand what's causing it."

Something indistinguishable flashed across Harry's eyes, but it was gone a tenth of a second later and he glanced briefly at Hermione's empty glass.

"I - I don't know what could be causing it either, Hermione," he said. "Maybe - maybe it's like those visions you had that you believed were a sort of sign that Malfoy was the one you were supposed to pick between him and me. Maybe these are telling you that something's going to come between the two of you and you'll turn back to hating each other."

Hermione looked away, the concept traveling through her head ominously. "No," she said, trying to convince herself. "Nothing could surely come between Draco and I; we're so happy together. We'd never hate each other again..."

She couldn't convince herself for some reason, though. Something within her made her believe that Harry might've been right...

"I know you don't want to think that could happen," Harry said in what he hoped was a caring voice, "but you and I know that it's possible. Your clairvoyance helps you understand things like this..."

Hermione greatly hoped that wasn't the case here... They were mere dreams with no meaning behind them at all...

> * <

Writing was slowly becoming Hermione's least favourite thing as strange as it sounded when referring to her. She had written for hours on end; her weekend passing with nothing more than the hope that the studying and revision she was doing was enough to pass her upcoming NEWTs. She was unaware that the rest of the seventh-years were doing about a third of the amount of work she was and the study in the Order quarters had become like a second home for her. The others had entered occasionally to do small amounts of work themselves, but they had all, except Harry, left shortly after complaining about the need for a break.

So there she sat, the last hours of Sunday passing with a four-foot long essay about the Unforgivable Curses. Sleep was threatening to take over her senses but she fought to stay awake, believing she could stay awake for another hour.

Her vision was becoming unfocused, the text of the book in front of her blurry before her. She rubbed her eyes sleepily and yawned, her mind becoming blank and empty of any thought. Her last coherent thought was the feeling of the parchment pages of the book beneath her head as she closed her eyes.

Lord Voldemort stood in a clearing of a graveyard with numerous hooded figures surrounding him in a circle. His lipless mouth was moving, obviously in speech, but a word couldn't be heard. The entire atmosphere was frighteningly quiet.

A moment passed, almost uneventfully, with only Voldemort's silent speech filling the air. He slowly raised his wand, still speaking and flicked it almost delicately. A fog swam through the tip and mobilised itself in thin air, the off-white colour of it swirling around ominously before colour worked its way in. Eventually, after what felt like a full minute of the swirling colour, it materialised into an unmistakable image of Draco.

He lay in his bed, sleeping in what appeared to be a peaceful, restful manner. His silver-blonde locks sat in a slightly unruly way around his pale, content face as he stirred very slightly and moved onto his side, not waking in his process.

The image slowly became unfocused and it appeared that Voldemort was again talking, an evil smile curving his mouth. It was hard to tell by the Death Eaters' masks and the muteness of the situation, but they all cruelly laughed at the comment from their master's lips. They became still again, however, when the image of Draco became mist before the colour returned and revolved into another image, this time one of Harry.

Harry was also lying in his bed, though he wasn't asleep like Draco. A book lay open in front of him and he scribbled across the blank parchment of it, the ink from his quill disappearing seconds after it rested onto the papyrus.

Voldemort gave a flick of his wand and it was this action that appeared to make the image zoom in upon the book resting on his lap. One sentence was visible before absorbing anonymously into the parchment:

...There is one thing I am sure of though, Journal: I am in love with Hermione Granger...

Hermione sat up abruptly, ignoring the book in front of her that she had been using as a pillow and looked around the study as though in the search for something. The large candle upon the table had burned low and all her books were still strewn across the table.

With her dream still clear in her mind, Hermione stood and left the study, silently shutting the door behind her. She headed around to the first bedroom to the right and opened it thoughtlessly. A scramble sounded from the bed to the left and Hermione watched as Harry hurriedly placed a brown, leather-bound book into his sheets.

"Hermione!" he said, surprised. "What is it?"

"I think - I think..." Hermione said, staring at the place Harry's journal had disappeared. "I - um - Harry, I think Voldemort's plotting something against Draco."

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