The Seer

Chapter 27

The attacks kept coming.

In the following weeks after the first, The Profit's front pages were always filled with reports of other attacks, each one more brutal than the last. Stories of muggles being taken, only to be found weeks later, magical scarring evident.

Everyday, the air in the Great Hall grew thicker with tension. Harry could feel the fear, an almost twisted sense of anticipation.

He hated it. Hated the stares he garnered every time he left his and Draco's dorm. Hated the whispered words that students thought he couldn't hear. Hated the shocked noises that were still made every bloody time he or Draco sat at the opposite table.

That had begun the same day the first attack was reported. It wasn't that Harry didn't trust Slytherins, no, Pansy and Blaise had made sure to destroy that particular train of thought. No, it was more so that Harry didn't trust anyone outside their respective circles.

Draco, Ron, Neville, Ginny, Luna, Blaise, and Pansy. It seemed that they were the only people he could speak to freely anymore.

And by Merlin, he hated it, if that wasn't already abundantly clear.

"I don't know, mate. Are you sure?" Ron spoke, nose wrinkling in distaste. Harry had brought Ron to his dorm, where they now sat in the common room speaking once again about the Death Eater attacks.

"It just doesn't make sense, Ron. Why Backwell? Why so many small towns? It's obvious that Voldemort wants wizards to know that he doesn't care about being revealed, with the muggle attacks. So why not London?" Harry's already messy hair was an absolute disaster, (at least more so than usual,) from the way he'd been stressfully running his fingers through it.

"Harry, mate, I trust you and all, but why do you know so much about, I don't know, "striking fear into muggles' hearts?"'He used quotations around the last phrase, emphasizing the humor, but Harry was not in the mood.

"Ron, I've been in his head. There is no way he'd attack a small town like that over making a bloody statement."

Their conversation was interrupted by the painting opening, an irritated Draco all but storming in. It took the other a moment to realize that he had an audience to his anger.

"Ah, Weasley. I hadn't realized you were here. I'll head into my room, then." He walked off to his bedroom in a much more composed manner.

"Ron, could you wait a moment? I should go see-"

"It's fine Harry, go comfort your boyfriend, you bloody poof. Just don't rub one out while you're in there!" Harry couldn't hold back a smile at his words, happy to have found such a close friend in the redhead. He shook his head, heading after the Seer.

"Draco? Are you alright?" Speaking softly, he walked into Draco's bedroom. The other sat on the edge of the bed, facing away from where Harry stood.

" 'm okay. You were speaking to Weasley about the attacks? You should go back," Draco mumbled, which in and of itself was a clue as to how he was actually feeling. And, besides that, Harry had noticed that he'd been able to feel some of the others emotions, outside of anger, recently. Harry could feel how upset he was, the anger he was determined to keep in check.

"Please don't lie to me Draco," he spoke softly, but he was heard regardless. It was strange how easy Harry had found it to be more... vulnerable around the Seer. They hadn't exactly been close before his stay at the manor. Harry quickly closed off that train of thought. Now was not the time.

Shaking the last of the thoughts away, Harry walked to the bed, sitting beside Draco. He let out a sigh.

"That easy to read, huh?" He looked at Harry, seeming almost resigned before he spoke. "I apologize. I shouldn't be getting this worked up over something so trivial. I should have prepared myself-"

"You're rambling Draco." This was growing to be concerning. Draco rarely mumbled, and never rambled. At least, Harry had never seen him do those things often in the past several months. Let alone both in the span of a few minutes.

"Dumbledore spoke to me after my class." Draco's hands clenched into fists. "He was attempting to get to you through me."

"He wants to see me, then?" Harry let out a sigh, hating how affected the other was by the old wizard. It certainly explained why he was acting the way he was.

"You don't have to go, Harry. He has no right to take you out of classes to harass you about Him." Draco's knuckles had gone white with how hard he held them.

"I know, Draco."

~~~~~~~~~Line~Break~~~~~~~~~

"Mr Potter, stay for a moment, please." McGonagall spoke, Harry slowing his movements of packing his supplies. It took several minutes, but eventually the students cleared out of the classroom. Verity and McGonagall sat at the front, Harry making his way to the latter's desk.

"Headmaster Dumbledore would like to see you." As usual, she spoke bluntly. Something Harry was grateful for.

"I'm afraid I have another class to attend," he spoke kindly, knowing that she was not at fault for the ridiculous headmaster.

"He was quite intent, Mr Potter. I was told to insist." She arched an eyebrow at him, to which Harry sighed.

"Professor, you do see how problematic his request is, right?" Dumbledore was clearly getting desperate, if he was using McGonagall as a messenger.

"I do, Mr Potter, but I was asked to give it regardless. However, I am perfectly willing to pass along any messages you have?" Her eyebrow remained raised, though she looked borderline amused.

"Thank you, Professor. Could you tell him that I'm too busy with studies for his "private lessons?"' She nodded, and pointedly ignored the loud snickering coming from Verity's desk. Harry quickly left the room, happy that he had a free period after Transfiguration today. And, since he'd given the excuse anyway, Harry figured it would be a good idea to go to the library.

A/n: Okay. So. It's been a while? Honestly, thank you to anyone still following this story. I'm so sorry for the unexpected hiatus. I have no excuses. I am so sorry. *hides*
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