Harry Potter - Foresight (prequel to "Foresight Reawakened")
title: foresight
summary: Draco is eight years old when he sees his first not-yet.
~*~
The sponge cake was in the oven. Draco was licking the spatula and sitting on the counter, legs swinging.
“Draco, get down from there,” his mother said.
He gave her a pleading look, but slid to the floor obediently. He took the bowl with him to the table. The bowl was half as big as he was.
It was the only time she’d baked with him. It is Narcissa’s most cherished memory.
~*~
“What’s wrong with him?”
“They don’t know.”
“Of course they wouldn’t-you should have taken him to a specialist!”
“And have them find out-” Lucius sweeps out of his chair, paces, returns abruptly. His black gloved hands crackle as he wraps them around the chair’s wooden frame. “Darling,” he says with exaggerated care. “No one can know. No one.”
Narcissa harrumphs, but says nothing else. She spends the night in her son’s bed, watching him sleep. In the morning she sees how long she can go without speaking to her husband.
~*~
When Draco is eight years old he sees the first not-yet. It is of the man he will marry. He tells his mother. “See? He’s connected to my finger.”
Narcissa calmly sips her drink. She is determined to enjoy the fine summer day, and Draco has been acting queer all morning. “Darling, there’s no one in the maze. It’s just us here.”
“No, there’s him, and me, and Pansy, and a boy. See?” He points, and traces a line with his eyes back and forth from his finger, bobbing his head. “Right there.”
“Of course,” Narcissa says with a frown. “Best not to tell Daddy though-his eyes are no good.” It’s the curse, she thinks. She wants to kill her husband.
~*~
“What were you thinking?” she screams. “Do you know what he saw today? Do you know what he saw? A grim, that’s what!”
“Calm down, it can’t be as bad as-”
“He said, ‘Look, Mum, it’s just like in that book in Daddy’s study.’ ‘What book?’ ‘The one with my husband in it!’ Lucius, do you have any idea what this-”
“Husband? Husband! He’s a boy, for Godssakes-”
“-means? What am I supposed to tell him? Yes, darling, I remember that night-”
“He’s our only child, Narcissa-we can’t just have another!”
“-when your father came back with that photo book. That was the night he-”
“He’s not queer and that’s the end of it!”
“-killed your husband’s parents!”
Silence.
Silence.
Silence.
“…Harry Potter?”
“Harry Potter.”
Lucius thinks. “Can you imagine the power if they sired a child?”
“That’s hardly the problem. He saw a grim. And what do I tell my son when he introduces me to that boy-”
“The Boy Who Ruined Everything, you mean?”
“Lucius, be serious.”
“I am. That child is the bane of my existence and I don’t want him in this family. His mother was a muggle.”
“So was Voldemort’s-”
“Narcissa!”
“Why tip-toe around a dead man? He’s not coming back.”
“Show some respect.”
“You show some respect. It’s your fault our son’s like this-”
“What, queer?”
“Seeing things. And a grim! You should never have taken him to that room, Lucius.”
“Why do you continue to bring it up?”
“It continues to be a problem.”
“I don’t see it as a problem, I see it as an advantage.”
“Well when he sees his husband die you’re the one who’s going to explain it to him.”
“I will.”
She glares at him and goes into the bathroom. She emerges some minutes later dressed for bed. Lucius is already there, reading an ornately bound book. He wears small rectangular glasses and holds a quill in one hand, which he uses to write in the margins.
“Turn off the light when you’re done.” Narcissa slips on her eye-mask and turns on her side.
Lucius stays up another thirty minutes, alternately scrawling and staring into nothing. He does not want to tell his son about death.
~*~
The ritual is done in an underground section of Knockturn Alley. When they return to the Manor, Draco sleeps for twelve hours. He wakes with no memory of it.
“It’s done,” Lucius says that night.
“You did it?”
“I said so.”
“Did it work?”
He stops, halfway under the covers. “He never tells me these things. Anyway, he’s still sleeping. Tell me if he sees them again.”
Narcissa doesn’t want to, but she will. It’s not healthy for Draco, seeing the things that he does. It would only get worse.
~*~
Draco is crying. No matter where he goes, the tall, messy-haired man with the Malfoy ring on his finger is nowhere to be found.
“Draco, do be quiet,” his father says.
“He’s not here! He’s not here!”
“We have guests.”
“He’s always here! Where is he? Where is he?”
“Shall we go inside?”
The Notts nod and the adults go into the house. Theodore goes with them. Draco tries to follow, but a house elf appears and leads him into the maze. His screams gradually taper off. Narcissa finds him there, asleep.
His visions do not come back. In time, he forgets them.
summary: Draco is eight years old when he sees his first not-yet.
~*~
The sponge cake was in the oven. Draco was licking the spatula and sitting on the counter, legs swinging.
“Draco, get down from there,” his mother said.
He gave her a pleading look, but slid to the floor obediently. He took the bowl with him to the table. The bowl was half as big as he was.
It was the only time she’d baked with him. It is Narcissa’s most cherished memory.
~*~
“What’s wrong with him?”
“They don’t know.”
“Of course they wouldn’t-you should have taken him to a specialist!”
“And have them find out-” Lucius sweeps out of his chair, paces, returns abruptly. His black gloved hands crackle as he wraps them around the chair’s wooden frame. “Darling,” he says with exaggerated care. “No one can know. No one.”
Narcissa harrumphs, but says nothing else. She spends the night in her son’s bed, watching him sleep. In the morning she sees how long she can go without speaking to her husband.
~*~
When Draco is eight years old he sees the first not-yet. It is of the man he will marry. He tells his mother. “See? He’s connected to my finger.”
Narcissa calmly sips her drink. She is determined to enjoy the fine summer day, and Draco has been acting queer all morning. “Darling, there’s no one in the maze. It’s just us here.”
“No, there’s him, and me, and Pansy, and a boy. See?” He points, and traces a line with his eyes back and forth from his finger, bobbing his head. “Right there.”
“Of course,” Narcissa says with a frown. “Best not to tell Daddy though-his eyes are no good.” It’s the curse, she thinks. She wants to kill her husband.
~*~
“What were you thinking?” she screams. “Do you know what he saw today? Do you know what he saw? A grim, that’s what!”
“Calm down, it can’t be as bad as-”
“He said, ‘Look, Mum, it’s just like in that book in Daddy’s study.’ ‘What book?’ ‘The one with my husband in it!’ Lucius, do you have any idea what this-”
“Husband? Husband! He’s a boy, for Godssakes-”
“-means? What am I supposed to tell him? Yes, darling, I remember that night-”
“He’s our only child, Narcissa-we can’t just have another!”
“-when your father came back with that photo book. That was the night he-”
“He’s not queer and that’s the end of it!”
“-killed your husband’s parents!”
Silence.
Silence.
Silence.
“…Harry Potter?”
“Harry Potter.”
Lucius thinks. “Can you imagine the power if they sired a child?”
“That’s hardly the problem. He saw a grim. And what do I tell my son when he introduces me to that boy-”
“The Boy Who Ruined Everything, you mean?”
“Lucius, be serious.”
“I am. That child is the bane of my existence and I don’t want him in this family. His mother was a muggle.”
“So was Voldemort’s-”
“Narcissa!”
“Why tip-toe around a dead man? He’s not coming back.”
“Show some respect.”
“You show some respect. It’s your fault our son’s like this-”
“What, queer?”
“Seeing things. And a grim! You should never have taken him to that room, Lucius.”
“Why do you continue to bring it up?”
“It continues to be a problem.”
“I don’t see it as a problem, I see it as an advantage.”
“Well when he sees his husband die you’re the one who’s going to explain it to him.”
“I will.”
She glares at him and goes into the bathroom. She emerges some minutes later dressed for bed. Lucius is already there, reading an ornately bound book. He wears small rectangular glasses and holds a quill in one hand, which he uses to write in the margins.
“Turn off the light when you’re done.” Narcissa slips on her eye-mask and turns on her side.
Lucius stays up another thirty minutes, alternately scrawling and staring into nothing. He does not want to tell his son about death.
~*~
The ritual is done in an underground section of Knockturn Alley. When they return to the Manor, Draco sleeps for twelve hours. He wakes with no memory of it.
“It’s done,” Lucius says that night.
“You did it?”
“I said so.”
“Did it work?”
He stops, halfway under the covers. “He never tells me these things. Anyway, he’s still sleeping. Tell me if he sees them again.”
Narcissa doesn’t want to, but she will. It’s not healthy for Draco, seeing the things that he does. It would only get worse.
~*~
Draco is crying. No matter where he goes, the tall, messy-haired man with the Malfoy ring on his finger is nowhere to be found.
“Draco, do be quiet,” his father says.
“He’s not here! He’s not here!”
“We have guests.”
“He’s always here! Where is he? Where is he?”
“Shall we go inside?”
The Notts nod and the adults go into the house. Theodore goes with them. Draco tries to follow, but a house elf appears and leads him into the maze. His screams gradually taper off. Narcissa finds him there, asleep.
His visions do not come back. In time, he forgets them.