Blast from the Past

1976

"I can't believe you are still letting him get to you, Prongs. Honestly, after six years, you should be able to ignore Malfoy no matter what."

"If only it were that easy, Padfoot. But you weren't there." James' brow furrowed in anger at the memory of his latest Malfoy confrontation.

"What could he have done to provoke you so much? I thought you'd been 'tamed' by Lily. At least enough to avoid a month of detention AND losing house points."

"That's my weakness. That Malfoy git was saying things about Lily that, well, any man would have done the same thing to protect the reputation of his future bride."

"Future bride?!?" Moony cut in. "Since when are you engaged?"

"We're not, but I think we will be one day," James replied. He got that look in his eyes again, the twinkle that told his closest friends he was thinking about Lily Evans and how happy she made him. Shaking his head to bring himself back to reality, he looked at the clock. "As for right now, if I don't get to detention, McGonagall will skin me."

"Have fun with Lucius!" Moony teased. James simply rolled his eyes and left the common room, waving goodbye to the Fat Lady in the portrait.

As he approached Professor McGonagall's office, he became aware of footsteps behind him. James thought to himself that he would have been perfectly happy to serve a months detention alone if only he could have gotten one or two good hexes out before the impromptu wizard's duel between he and Lucius had been interrupted. He turned to face Malfoy, steeling himself for the familiar sneer, and was startled to see Professor Dumbledore there instead.

Professor Dumbledore smiled in greeting, "Mr. Potter."

"Yes sir," James answered with a smile for the kind headmaster. Albus Dumbledore had offered nothing but kindness since James' first year, despite the number of rules that James and his Marauding friends had broken. Right now, thought, James had to wonder what was going on.

"There's been a slight delay. Professor McGonagall will be a bit late and I offered to greet you and Mr. Malfoy in her absence. It seems that she's decided... ah, Mr. Malfoy, nice of you to join us. Cutting it a bit close, weren't you?"

The blond scowled at Dumbledore and then at James. "I'm on time, that's enough." He leaned against the wall casually, expressing in his body language that he felt his participation in this detention was far beneath him. "I believe you were about to give us a message from McGonagall?" he drawled.

"Professor McGonagall has decided that the two of you should begin your detention with an extra assignment. Seeing as how you are well ahead of your peers in your respective focus classes, she would like you to work together and share that knowledge."

James groaned inwardly. Detention with Malfoy would be bad enough, but to actually have to converse with him and work together? That was just asking too much. Glancing at Malfoy, the sneer on his face told James that he was none too happy about this turn of events, either. Taking a deep breath, he looked back at Professor Dumbledore with a silent plea for escape in his eyes. "What type of assignment?" he asked.

Dumbledore smiled at the young man, knowing full well that he was dreading this answer with every ounce of his being. Never had Dumbledore seen such a pair of polar opposites as James Potter and Lucius Malfoy, nor did he expect to find such a pair again. It was precisely these differences that prompted him and Minerva to develop this particular punishment. Despite young Mr. Malfoy's background, they hoped that he could be positively influenced if provided with enough of a good example. Thought their efforts had not worked during his first six years at Hogwarts, neither professor was quite prepared to give up on the boy just yet. Who better to influence him than James Potter, the last heir in the Gryffindor bloodline, the young man who had already found himself fighting on the side of good when faced with a small group of dark wizards in his fifth year. James was a powerful force to be reckoned with and Dumbledore sincerely hoped something good would come of this assignment.

"Well, Mr. Potter," Dumbledore answered, "since you have excelled in Defense Against the Dark Arts and Divination, and you, Mr. Malfoy, have shown extreme cunning in both Potions and Charms, Professor McGonagall and I would like to see if you can create a divinatory potion with a corresponding Dark Arts charm. The purpose would be to learn of major future events connected with the Dark Arts and then use the charm and potion to ensure the best possible outcome."

"Excuse me sir," Malfoy was using his best manner now, knowing full well how to turn on the charm and appear the perfect gentleman. "It sounds as if you are saying you want Potter and I to rid the world of all future negativity. Isn't that quite a tall order for a couple of students?"

"Not at all, Mr. Malfoy. I simply asked you to work on this. If you can save the world with it, so much the better. It need not be that complicated for the detention requirements, however. I do suggest you both get started on it. You'll be working on this for three hours every night this week. Should you be late or absent, you'll lose your house an additional fifty points."

"Yes sir" the boys said almost in unison.

1997

"Mr. Potter, Mr. Malfoy," Snape's voice bellowed and echoed in the potions classroom. "I believe I have made it clear on numerous occasions that I will not tolerate such disruptions in my class. fifty points from each house and you'll both be serving detention with me at promptly 8:00 this evening."

Harry closed his eyes and silently counted to ten, willing himself to stay silent so that Snape couldn't find anything else to punish him for. He still couldn't understand why Snape continue to harass him in class. Within a few weeks after Harry joined the Order of the Pheonix in sixth year, Snape had begun to treat him as an equal. Well, only during the secret meetings of the Order. They'd been having a lot of meetings lately, as there was strong suspicion that Voldemort was going to strike soon. The entire wizarding world had finally accepted the fact that Voldemort was still alive and had been waiting with much anticipation for his next attack. Oddly, there had been only one fairly minor attack each year, almost like clockwork. The next attack was expected to be not against Harry, not against Hogwarts, not even against the Ministry, but against the entire known world, Muggle and Wizard alike. The Order was preparing an army. An army to fight an all out war against Voldemort - to hopefully fend off the strain and tragedy of living like they had twenty-some years ago before Voldemort lost power after attempting to kill young Harry Potter.

Harry was snapped to attention by Malfoy's demeaning whisper. "You might want to wake up, Potter. If you dare to attract any more attention over here before this class is over, I'll spend a month making sure you regret it." Harry opened his eyes and glanced sideways at Malfoy. He had to admit that he should be making the most out of the unfortunate pairing with the clever Slytherin. Harry was lousy at Potions, not as bad as some, mind you, but lousy nonetheless. Malfoy, on the other hand, was not only clever in Potions, but was also Snape's pet student. If Harry played his cards right, he could learn a little something useful and bring up his standing in the Potion Master's eyes.

Quickly, he turned his attention back to the bat's wings that needed to be sliced thinly. He had paid enough attention before Malfoy's insults brought them detention to know that the bat's wings would be useless if not sliced thinly enough and added at just the right moment before the potion turned blue.

Draco Malfoy was pleased to see that his threat had worked. He had to admire Potter's skills with a knife, even if the Gryffindor knew next to nothing about the full on process of brewing the night vision potion. Malfoy, like many other seventh year students, had picked up on the fact that many of their potions were being tested and kept by Professor Snape. It was widely suspected that Snape was storing these advanced potions for a very specific reason, though the details of that reason varied by the speaker.

"All right, if everyone's potion is ready..." Snape paused and took a look around the dungeon to verify that the potions were in fact ready. He was pleased to see that Miss Granger had succeeded in keeping Weasley out of trouble for this session. "We'll test these out now. Please fill a small vial from your cauldron and wait until I tell you to drink." Snape wandered around the classroom, watching the nervous anticipation on the faces of many of his students. He knew that each potion was exactly right, his expertise allowed him to be certain of that simply by the color, the thickness and the smell of it. In spite of his harsh façade, Snape would never allow a student to test a potion that would cause them any harm. He found it much easier to command attention if he allowed the students to fear the unknown. He also believed it would better prepare them for the real world.

After verifying that all the students were prepared and taking a dose of his personal night vision potion, Snape raised his wand and muttered "Tenebae Totalus," one of the few simple charms he would perform, considering his dislike for most wandwork. Every torch and candle in the room went out simultaneously, plunging the dungeon room into complete and total darkness. "Drink your potions now."

Draco Malfoy put the small vial up to his lips and tossed back the thick blue potion as if it were a stiff drink. He'd begun to think he needed a stiff drink after the way he found himself admiring Potter's hands a few moments ago. It started with the way he handled his knife, but quickly evolved into the way he *handled* his knife. Draco could admit that Potter wasn't a bad looking bloke, and he had no qualms about either gender when regarding sexual relations, but Potter was in a field of his own. Potter was his mortal enemy, the bane of his existence, the opposite of all he believed in, and too damned innocent to be any fun in bed anyway. Nevertheless, once Draco opened his eyes and began adjusting to night vision, he let his gaze wander around the room, taking in all the students, the materials and his professor, subconsciously avoiding one specific Gryffindor.

Harry Potter had the distinct impression that Malfoy was distracted by something. Shrugging his shoulders, he downed his vial of potion, grimacing against the chalky taste, and carefully felt to set the vial down on the table. He closed his eyes and took a couple of deep breaths, allowing the potion to sink in. When he opened them, to his utter amazement, he could see everything in the room. It wasn't quite like daytime, rather everything had a slightly blue-grey tint and certain things seemed to be glowing. Hermione looked like a floating head across the room from him, her white collar glowing over the top of her robes, casting an odd light on her face. Looking over at Ron, Harry smiled to himself when he saw that the boy's red hair seemed to be on fire - so fitting for someone with a temper like his. Finally, he turned his head to look at Malfoy, and couldn't help the gasp that escaped his lips. Malfoy looked...well...unbelievable! His silver blond hair appeared truly silver, his pale skin looked like porcelain and, when Harry finally caught a side view of those grey eyes, they appeared to be sparkling like diamonds.

Harry shook his head in disbelief. He hadn't begun to show any "relationship" interests until the end of sixth year (with the exception of Cho, of course). After Cho, and the guilt he felt over Cedric's death, Harry had determined that any type of "relationship" wasn't a good idea for him. Anyone he dated would automatically be in danger because of Voldemort's vendetta against him. Harry wasn't willing to put anyone else in that position. Finally, toward the end of last year, he began to acknowledge that he was no longer immune to the maturing students he shared his classes with. Parvati was very nice looking. Seamus could be downright sexy when he tried. Even Blaise, Slytherin or not, was pleasant to look at. Truth be told, there were a great number of people in seventh year alone that Harry found attractive, or interesting, or engaging, or ... whatever. But there were three people, exactly three people in his year that Harry knew he would never see in that light. Ron - because he was Harry's best friend and Harry had spent so much time with Ron's family that they felt like brothers. Hermione - because she was Harry's other best friend and the sister he never had. And finally - Malfoy - because he was an arrogant, evil, insensitive, prat who knew nothing but how to behave like his bastardly, insufferable git of a father. Malfoy was his enemy. And his enemy looked rather hot through night vision.

~*~*~

Harry had spent the better part of his afternoon sitting in a dim corner of the Gryffindor common room. He stared blankly past his Magical History book for an hour or so, then put it away so he could concentrate on looking directly at the Care of Magical Creatures assignment without actually seeing it. To the casual observer in the room, it looked as though he were diligently working on his homework. To the ever watchful eyes of his close friend Hermione, it was obvious that he was in a completely different world, and by the look of despair in his green eyes, it didn't look like a very happy world at that.

Hermione got up and slowly walked up to the quiet table, glad for once that most of her housemates weren't big on homework. They were mostly running around in various parts of the castle looking for trouble, which would give her a little more privacy to talk to Harry. She had a feeling this talk was going to warrant some privacy. No one could look that upset about things that were okay to talk about in public. Harry didn't even blink as Hermione slid into a chair next to him. He did, however, jump about two and a half feet when she gently placed a hand on his shoulder.

"Geeaarrdfi, don't do that, are you trying to kill me or something?"

"Yes, Harry, I've been your friend for six years and helped you through a million conflicts just so that I could slowly kill you by touching your shoulder when you least expect it."

Harry looked at her in confusion. She sounded so serious. The sarcasm was there, but just barely. He pondered a moment, then finally decided that she was indeed joking. "I just meant, you startled me."

"I've gathered as much, but it's always a bit startling when you're suddenly and unexpectedly brought back to earth from ... well from wherever you were."

"I've been right here, I'm doing my homework. I thought you'd've been glad of that."

"I would have, if you actually had been. Harry, I'm not stupid."

Harry wondered why she would even bother with such a statement. As Head Girl, Hermione was as far from stupid as one could get. She knew she was highly intelligent and very crafty. Harry knew that she was also rather modest. She still maintained what she'd said to him in their first year, that her skills were all books and cleverness. She still referred to him as a great wizard. Even after...but he wouldn't let himself think about that again. Not now. He looked up at her, his emerald eyes cloudy with thoughts he wouldn't finish.

"Harry, you've got to talk about it sometime."

"Why?"

"Well, because it's just, you just need to. You shouldn't keep such things bottled up inside of you. It's not good for you. You're wearing down, you hardly eat, you look like you haven't slept in months and you've always got such a pained expression in your eyes. I worry about you Harry. Ron's worried about you, too. Even the teachers are concerned. We've all noticed that you're...well you're just not acting yourself since the beginning of term. Did something happen at the Dursley's?" Hermione took a deep breath, having sped up her speech to get it all out before she lost her nerve. She and Ron had been speculating that something more horrid than usual must have happened over the summer while Harry was with his Aunt and Uncle. They'd tried to approach Harry a couple of times, but never asked directly because they were concerned that it might be SO bad that it would be worse to ask than to wait until he felt like talking. She only asked tonight because it was becoming obvious after two months that Harry was never going to just 'feel' like talking.

Harry felt a small tug at the left corner of his mouth. He recognized it as the beginnings of a smile. He couldn't remember Hermione being nervous just talking since she finally took the initiative to tell Ron how she felt about him. That thought took the possibility of smiling far from Harry's mind. Early sixth year - before the usual tragedies, during one of those rare and all too brief moments when they had all thought life could be good, Ron and Hermione giggling and blushing with their newfound romance, it was enough to drive anyone mad. Harry didn't realize he was so close to tears until he felt them splashing on his arm.

Hermione sat in silent shock. She'd seen Harry cry before. He'd cried in relief when Ginny was finally safe at the end of second year. He'd cried in sorrow when Cedric was killed in their fourth year. He'd finally broken down and cried over Sirius after he got over the initial anger. He'd cried in frustration when it looked like Ron wouldn't make it to the end of their sixth year. He'd even cried a bit when he came to get her after... But what shocked her about this was that she'd never seen him cry like a statue. After a tiny twitch at the corner of his mouth, no other muscles had moved. The anguish turned his eyes into identical swirling green tornadoes, the tears followed their silent paths down his cheeks, but there was no sound, no sobbing, nothing.

"Harry?" she asked gently. "Would you like to go outside and talk about this?"

Harry snapped out of his daze (barely realizing that he'd been dazing a lot the last few weeks) and looked at Hermione as though she had a hippogriff on her head. "No." He got up and headed directly to the portrait hole, not looking back once. Hermione didn't know what to do. She felt that Harry obviously wanted to be alone, but her stronger urges told her to follow him anyway. Not being one to question those strong urges of hers, she got up and promptly followed Harry through the portrait hole, trailing behind him all the way to his favorite hiding spot behind the castle.

She stood in the shadows, watching, wondering, what could possibly have upset Harry so much that he would withdraw into this self-inflicted torture? Harry sat silently, tears still streaming down his face and waiting, wondering when Hermione would get tired of standing in the shadows.

After at least a quarter of an hour had past, he finally opened his mouth and spoke. "You may as well come over and sit down, since you refuse to go back into the castle."

Hermione gasped, then collected herself and stepped out of her hiding place and walked over to join Harry on the ground. "How did you know I was there? I know you couldn't have seen me from here."

"I didn't need to."

"What do you mean? Harry, please, for Merlin's sake, talk to me?"

"Not that it's of any importance, but...well, something did happen over the summer. Something a little strange." He trailed off, knowing this wasn't the news Hermione wanted him to share, but hoping that revealing this secret would at least quench her curiosity for a while. "I, er, that is, I can see things."

"Like?" Hermione knew there was more to it, she just couldn't put her finger on it.

"Like things around me. Like dreams when I'm awake. I know things that ordinary senses wouldn't tell me."

"Harry!" she cried as dawning fell over her. "You're a seer?"

"I suppose. But only randomly and never anything important. I'd better get going though. I have that detention with Snape." Harry sincerely hoped his friend wasn't going to make a big deal out of it. He had the distinct feeling that if Dumbledore were to find out about this, he would want Harry to train this new sense in case it could be useful in the ongoing war against Voldemort. Harry couldn't see where anything about it would be useful. If he were to see an event, well, he probably wouldn't be able to prevent it and then it would be worse than if he hadn't known. He didn't want to think about any more loss, any more of the people he loved getting hurt. He knew he couldn't stand it if something bad happened to one of his friends and he'd known in advance. If only his were the side with the power and protection. If only.