thirteen, end of part i : FLESH, BLOOD, AND BONE

chapter xiii : flesh, blood, & bone

"so time won't steal us apart."

THE CROWD EXPLODED. Cheers, gasps, magical fireworks. A Slytherin banner lit up. The judges leaned forward. Cedric Diggory had already emerged minutes earlier, holding Cho safely by the arm. He was being hailed the victor. But now — Valerie Potter surfaced with Draco Malfoy in her arms. He was limp. Pale. But alive.

Valerie couldn't hear any of it.

The cold air slammed into her like a wall. Her teeth chattered violently. But she didn't let go of him.

And then— GASP.

Draco jolted in her grasp, coughing up lake water. His grey eyes snapped open, wide and panicked. Valerie nearly dropped him from the relief that surged through her.

"You're—you're okay—"

Before he could even speak, hands grabbed at her arms, steadying her.

"Val!" Harry's voice, warm and frantic. "I've got you—"

He pulled her up onto the wooden platform, arms strong despite the shake in them. Valerie stumbled but didn't fall. Her legs were aching from the swim, her body trembling.

Harry immediately tossed a towel around her shoulders, then helped Draco up next, wrapping another thick towel around him too.

"You did it," Harry grinned, green eyes alight.

Valerie could only wheeze a laugh. "I—think—I hate swimming."

Draco didn't say anything at first. He was dripping, his jaw clenched, his fingers clumsy as he tried to pull the towel tighter. But the moment their eyes met, something in him broke.

He pulled her into a hug, hard.

"I'm sorry," He muttered into her wet hair. "You had no idea I was going to be down there. I didn't know they'd choose me. I wanted to— I meant to meet you this morning, I swear—"

"It's okay," Valerie whispered. Her voice cracked, more from emotion than exhaustion. "I'm just so glad it's over. No more swimming. No more lake. No more stupid eggs—"

She pulled back just enough to look at him, her fingers still curled in his soaked shirt.

But then the thought hit her like a hex to the chest.

No more tasks for her.

Her stomach dropped.

She turned sharply, eyes finding Harry, still grinning, still beaming with pride for his twin.

She breathed. "Harry."

His smile faltered slightly. "Yeah?"

"It's your turn now."

The wind blew sharply, cutting through the platform. The cheers in the background dimmed beneath the weight of the realisation settling in.

The final task was coming.

And this time... it wouldn't be her.

It would be him.

Valerie Potter had survived the Black Lake, brought Draco Malfoy back to the surface, and come second to Cedric Diggory — but she didn't care about rankings anymore. She was just glad it was over. No more eggs. No more gillyweed.

Just Hogwarts. And Draco. And the countdown to Harry's final task.

Draco and Valerie were officially a couple now, and the school knew it. It was whispered in corridors and debated over breakfast like it was some great scandal. Especially with her being a half-blood, and him being a Malfoy.

Some days were bliss. Study sessions with hands held under the table, sneaking into the kitchen for treats, Eric teasing them relentlessly.

Other days... not so much.

They argued.

Not constantly. Not loudly. But enough.

Valerie's independence clashed with Draco's protectiveness. She didn't like being smothered. He didn't like being shut out. Once, she got angry that he asked Snape to go easy on her in class.

Meanwhile, she accused him of being 'embarrassed' to kiss her in front of Slytherins.

They made up every time, of course — through apologies, quiet talks and kisses.

Their love wasn't perfect.

But it was real.

But there was something else growing, too.

Her gift.

Her curse.

Valerie's visions were becoming stronger. Stranger.

And now... visible.

It started slowly. Ivory noticed it first in the dormitory. "Val, your eyes... they went grey, just for a second."

Whenever Valerie had a vision now, her brown eyes clouded into a soft, unnatural grey — like stormy glass. It would only last a moment. But it was unmistakable.

It terrified her.

Because every time, the vision was always the same.

A graveyard.

Fog curling around headstones. Black trees, skeletal and tall. A cracked angel statue watching from the dark. It was never clear — just flashes, impressions. But every time, the same overwhelming feeling: she wasn't alone there.

She never told anyone.

Not Draco. Not Eric. Not even Harry.

Because she couldn't.

Her body would seize up when she tried to speak. Her jaw would lock. Her ears would ring. She was a Silent Seer — a rare kind. A cursed kind.

Her visions weren't meant to be shared.

But they were getting louder.

The Great Hall was buzzing. Sunlight streamed through the high windows. The Gryffindor table was a little more crowded than usual.

Valerie, Draco, and Eric had squeezed in the benches across Harry, Ron, and Hermione.

Eric was eating his cereal while he scrolled through Instagram.

Draco was sipping coffee with his hand resting on his girlfriend's lap.

Hermione, meanwhile, was peering closely at Valerie.

"I've been reading," She said, brows furrowed, "And I think your eyes turning grey might be a neurological response — the way some magical conditions physically manifest in the body. It's like how Metamorphmagi can't always control their features when they're stressed."

"So I'm stressed and psychic," Valerie muttered.

Eric hummed. "You should start charging for fortunes."

"I think it's cool," Harry added quickly, "Your eyes only change for a second, yeah? Maybe it's like... a signal. That your mind's opening or something."

Valerie didn't answer.

Because just then, a shadow fell across the table.

"Morning," Came a voice, rough and wry.

They all looked up.

Mad-Eye Moody was standing, glaring down with his mismatched eyes.

"Well done on that lake task, Potter," He said, looking directly at Valerie. "You've got grit."

Before she could respond, he clapped a heavy hand on her back.

Firm. Deliberate.

Valerie blinked.

The plate in front of her blurred. The noise of the Great Hall dulled. She felt cold — colder than the lake had ever been. Her spine stiffened.

Pain bloomed behind her eyes. Not physical pain — not entirely. It was worse than that.

It was someone else's pain.

In flashes, jagged and fast, the vision ripped through her mind like a lightning bolt:

Screams echoing in her skull. A woman's voice, hoarse with agony. A man, begging for it to stop. The smell of blood and burning. A wand raised — Crucio—

Valerie gasped, her body jolting. The spoon in her hand clattered to the table. Her eyes — grey now — locked, unseeing, on something far away.

"Val?" Draco's voice, sharp with concern.

She blinked. Once. Twice. Her breath came in short, ragged bursts.

Moody was still watching her.

Almost... fascinated. "You alright?" He said, voice too calm.

Draco stood quickly, pulling her up with him. "She's not feeling well," He said flatly.

Harry looked alarmed. "Valerie?"

Valerie shook her head, unable to speak. Her mouth opened but no words came out — only a low, choked sound.

Her tongue felt numb.

Her throat, closed.

"She needs to go to the Hospital Wing," Hermione said firmly, already gathering her things. "Now."

Eric pushed his cereal away, his voice uncharacteristically serious. "I'll come too."

Moody gave a small nod and walked off without another word.

Draco wrapped his arm around Valerie, guiding her out of the Hall. Her legs felt like they didn't belong to her. Like she was wading through someone else's memory.

A memory of pain. Of magic gone wrong. Of screaming that wouldn't stop.

And yet, the worst part?

She knew exactly whose memory it had been.

Alice and Frank Longbottom.

Neville's parents.

Valerie lay in the hospital wing bed, pale and quiet, a wool blanket pulled up to her chest. Her breathing had steadied, but her fingers still twitched now and then — like her body hadn't quite left the haunting vision behind.

Draco sat beside her on a chair, holding her hand tightly in both of his.

Eric was curled up right next to her on the bed, scrolling through memes on his phone with exaggerated expressions, like he could will her into smiling. "Look," He whispered, nudging her shoulder gently, "Someone enchanted a cat to do the Macarena."

Hermione was seated nearby, flipping through a thick book so fast the pages blurred. Ron stood behind her, fidgeting awkwardly with the hem of his sleeve.

Harry paced.

Madam Pomfrey approached quietly, offering a small vial. "A calming potion," She said, her voice soft. "You're safe. You're not in that vision anymore, dear."

Later that evening, Valerie was summoned. Madam Pomfrey handed her a folded note sealed with the Hogwarts crest. Valerie opened it with trembling fingers.

Miss Potter,If you are well enough, I would like a word.— Albus Dumbledore

Fifteen minutes later, wrapped in her cloak, she walked the familiar stone path toward the spiral staircase behind the stone gargoyle. It stepped aside wordlessly. She was expected. The circular office smelled of dust and lemon polish. Books lined every wall. Fawkes the phoenix blinked at her sleepily from his perch.

Dumbledore stood at the window, back turned, watching the night.

He didn't say anything at first.

"Come in, Miss Potter."

She did.

For a long moment, he remained quiet. Then he spoke.

"Your visions... You can't speak about them can you?"

Valerie's fingers curled into her sleeves. "Yes sir, I can't speak about them." She shook her head. "I wanted to. I really tried."

He turned then. His blue eyes were tired, but sharp.

"I believe you."

Dumbledore walked over to his desk and picked up a slender object — a long, silver pencil, encased in a glass tube. "This," He said, "Is older than any book in this room. Crafted by Rowena Ravenclaw herself — meant for a student who could see what others could not."

He offered it to her.

Valerie took it carefully, as if it might vanish. It was cool in her hands. Instinctively right.

"I believe," He continued, "That you are what some used to call a Silent Seer. A rare gift. Or curse, depending on the time in which you're born." His voice softened. "Even the Department of Mysteries has little on your kind. But I know this: your silence doesn't mean your visions aren't important."

Her throat tightened.

"Your eyes—" He continued gently. "Turning grey. That's not a sign of losing yourself. It's a sign your magic is evolving. Taking root."

She stared at the pencil in her hand. It shimmered faintly, pulsing like it was alive.

"I can't explain it all to you, Miss Potter. Not yet," Dumbledore said. "But I can help you. And you are not alone."

She swallowed hard. "Why now?" She asked, her voice low. "Why are you telling me this now?"

"Because someone is watching you," He said simply. "And not just me. And you deserve to be armed with the truth — or at least part of it."

Valerie didn't cry. But when she walked back down the spiral stairs with the ancient pencil in her hand, her heart was louder than it had been in days. Someone finally saw her. Really saw her. Even if, for the first time... she wasn't sure that was a good thing.

Their usual hangout spot — a tucked-away nook behind the potions section, where the lamps glowed soft and low — felt more sacred than ever lately. A sanctuary. The chaos of the tournament and Valerie's haunting visions felt far away here. Almost manageable. She sat curled into one of the red velvet armchairs, a knitted Slytherin blanket wrapped around her shoulders. She looked calmer than she had in days. Tired, maybe — but no longer haunted. Her hands were folded in her lap, fingers tracing the edge of Dumbledore's pencil.

Draco sat beside her on the armrest, his hand resting on her thigh, thumb brushing absently back and forth. Harry, Hermione, Ron, and Eric had spread themselves out across the floor on cushions and beanbags, a scattered mess of textbooks, and half-done homework all around them.

Then Hermione stood up, clutching something behind her back. "Okay," She said nervously, "I... have something for you."

Valerie blinked, sitting up slightly. "For me?"

Hermione nodded, and with a small, almost shy smile, held out the gift.

A drawing journal. Beautiful and simple — black leather-bound, with a silver mermaid delicately embossed on the front. The mermaid's hair curled in soft waves, and her eyes were closed, peaceful. Enchanted to shimmer faintly under the light.

Valerie froze.

Her fingers reached out slowly, brushing the silver design.

"...It's beautiful."

"I thought it might help," Hermione said softly. "Sorting through things. When you can't say them out loud."

"Thank you," She smiled, voice low but steady. "Really. This... means a lot."

Hermione beamed.

Eric leaned over from his beanbag, squinting at the cover. "Ooh. Shiny. Very you." He flopped dramatically against the arm of Valerie's chair. "But just so we're clear: if I catch a single ugly sketch of me in there, I will sue."

Valerie laughed — a real laugh, the first in days.

"Noted."

She cracked open the first page and picked up the pencil Dumbledore had given her. It glided effortlessly against the paper. Smooth. Familiar. Soothing.

She didn't draw a vision.

Instead, she sketched the Black Lake. Soft lines, curling waves, a delicate glint of moonlight on water.

Her shoulders slowly relaxed as she drew.

"They think it might've belonged to someone in Hogwarts history," Valerie murmured after a moment, still sketching. "The pencil. Dumbledore said it was crafted by Rowena Ravenclaw. A tool for expression, not explanation."

Harry blinked. "Wait — like, the Rowena Ravenclaw?"

Hermione's eyes lit up instantly. "That makes perfect sense. She was obsessed with legacy — not just knowledge, but how we record it. She believed drawings could reflect things words couldn't. They say her lost diadem increased wisdom — maybe this pencil reveals it."

Draco hadn't said much, but he hadn't let go of her either. His hand remained steady on her thigh, fingers warm through the fabric of her jeans. She glanced at him once — and he met her eyes, soft and unreadable.

"I think it's good," He said quietly. "That it's yours now."

Valerie swallowed. "Me too."

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ♡ *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

THE SLYTHERIN DORMITORY was still, lit only by the green shimmer of the lake outside the windows. The water moved faintly against the glass, casting gentle ripples of light across the stone walls. Most of Draco's roommates were asleep already — Crabbe and Goyle snoring, Theo turned to the wall. Blaise was in the shower.

Draco sat on the edge of his bed, staring at the owl that had just tapped on the glass.

Its feathers were pure black.

The moment he took the scroll from its leg, it flew away at an instant.

He stared at the thick parchment. Formal. Heavy. His name scrawled across the front in dark green ink.

He already knew who it was from.

Hands steady, face unreadable, he broke the seal.

Draco,

Your recent decisions are not only disappointing — they are dangerous.A half-blood. Publicly.

I won't tolerate this kind of foolish rebellion.

You will break it off with her. Or I will see to it that you finish your education elsewhere.

Durmstrang is not as lenient with sentimentality.

Make the right choice.

Draco read it once.

Then again.

He didn't crumple it. He didn't curse, or cry, or even flinch.

But his hands shook — not with fear.

With rage.

He folded the letter slowly, precisely, and shoved it into the back of his nightstand drawer.

Then he sat perfectly still for a long time, jaw clenched so tightly it ached.

The sun was bright but cool. Valerie sat cross-legged on the grass, her sketchbook balanced in her lap. Her pencil — that pencil — glided easily across the page. She was humming softly, not even aware of it.

The drawing was of a mermaid.

But not the ones from the Black Lake — not sharp-toothed or snarling.

This one was soft. Enchanting. Her eyes were closed, her hair flowing out like ink in water. Her expression was... haunting.

And strangely familiar.

Draco stopped a few steps behind her, just... watching.

Valerie didn't look up. "You walk louder when you're trying to be quiet."

Draco gave a small laugh, but it didn't reach his eyes.

He dropped down beside her, pulling his cloak tighter around his shoulders.

"Love," He said finally, "I got a letter. From my father."

She paused. Just for a moment. Then turned her head to look at him fully.

"Yeah?" She said slowly, "How bad?"

Draco shrugged once, like it was nothing. "Not a howler."

Valerie waited.

"He said I need to break up with you," Draco said casually. Too casually. "Or he'll transfer me to Durmstrang next year."

Her pencil froze mid-line.

"—He wants to ship you to a whole new country because you're dating me?"

"He wants obedience. And control," Draco said, his voice flat. "That's all it's ever been."

Valerie stared out at the lake, her hands tightening around the sketchbook. A bird wheeled overhead. She didn't say anything for a moment.

Then she spoke, voice low.

"...Then let's give him what he wants."

Draco frowned, caught off guard. "What do you mean?"

She turned to him, eyes sharp now. "What if you pretended I was just... useful to you. That you weren't serious about me. Just using me for information."

He blinked. "Information?"

"You could tell him I'm a Seer," She said. "Which is true. You could make it seem like I'm valuable. Not because I'm a girl you care about. But because I'm... powerful. Strategic."

Draco stared at her. "You want me to lie to him. Tell him I'm manipulating you for your visions?"

She met his gaze, steady. "You wouldn't be lying. Not entirely."

He gave a dry laugh, shaking his head. "You're insane."

"Am I?"

"No," He muttered. "You're brilliant. And also insane."

She smiled faintly.

"Let him think I'm just a pawn," She suggested. "It'll make me less of a threat in his eyes."

Draco studied her face, the set of her jaw, the cold burn of her logic beneath the softness.

"You don't have to do that," He said quietly. "Let him rage. Let him send another owl. I'll face him."

"I know," She replied. "But we need to survive this, Draco. Not win it yet. Not now."

He reached for her hand, laced their fingers. Held on like she was the only solid thing.

"I hate that you even have to think like this," He mentioned.

She shrugged, eyes on the lake. "You're not the only one with a legacy breathing down your neck."

Then she turned her head to look at him again.

"We'll outplay them all," She said softly. "Even your father."

Draco leaned in and kissed her — slow, sure, grateful. Her hands clutched the front of his robes like she might fall if she let go.

After Draco had written to his father with 'the truth' — that Valerie Potter, was simply a useful connection due to her rare abilities — the response had come swiftly. A brief, clipped letter, stamped with the Malfoy seal, that simply read:

Use her well, then.

Draco hadn't shown it to Valerie. He didn't need to. He had read it, burned it, and said nothing — just held her a little tighter that night as they curled up in the empty common room, listening to the hush of the lake outside the windows.

Now, Valerie was bundled up in her light pink coat, her cheeks flushed from the wind, walking beside Eric down the streets of Hogsmeade.

"Okay," Eric exclaimed, flinging his arm out to gesture at the row of shops like he was presenting a challenge on a game show. "You've got one mission: find a gift for your terrifyingly rich, emotionally complicated boyfriend."

Valerie gave him a sideway glare. "You're not helping."

"I am helping. I'm narrating." He grinned. "Besides, you love this. It's his birthday in three days. You want it to be perfect."

She huffed, hugging her arms tighter across her chest. "Yeah, but what do you get someone who already has everything?"

Eric raised a finger. "You could give him your heart."

"I already did," She muttered. "Didn't cost him anything."

Eric's smile faltered slightly. "Okay. Real talk — he doesn't expect something expensive. He's not that kind of rich boy."

"I know," Valerie said quickly. "He's not. It's just... he's always getting me things. Every time I turn around, he's got something new for me—"

Eric gave her a knowing look. "You feel guilty."

She sighed. "I want to spoil him, too. Just once. But I don't have, like, manor-level money, you know?"

Eric bumped his shoulder into hers gently. "Then stop trying to compete with his vault and do what you're good at."

Valerie blinked. "Which is?"

"Being meaningful," He answered simply. "You see things people don't. You draw things no one else could. Give him something from you. That's what he'll actually keep."

They stopped outside a little shop with warm light spilling through the windows. Inside, Valerie spotted glass cases full of old trinkets and magical oddities — everything from enchanted cufflinks to rare ink bottles and star charts from probably centuries ago.

She stared through the glass, her eyes catching on something small — something that glinted silver in the light.

Eric followed her gaze.

"That one?" He asked, squinting. "It looks old."

"It's perfect," She whispered, an idea forming in her mind.

Valerie tugged the Invisibility Cloak tighter around herself and Draco, both as they slipped through the last row of trees, her breath clouding the night air. A blanket had already been laid out beneath the crooked tree near the water — she snuck out earlier to set everything up. A little picnic basket sat in the center, full of snacks, lollies, and a small vanilla cake with candles stuck into it.

It wasn't glamorous.

It wasn't grand.

But it was perfect.

"Midnight," She murmured, glancing at the watch on her wrist. "In five minutes and I'll let you blow the candles out."

Valerie reached into the basket, fingers hesitating for a moment before pulling out a small wrapped white box.

She offered it to him, her gaze flicking nervously to his face. "Don't make a face, It's... not expensive."

Draco took it carefully, his brows drawing slightly together. "Babe," He murmured, already touched just by the gesture, "I won't."

He peeled the wrapping back slowly, revealing a vintage silver pocket watch — its surface polished but gently worn. He opened it, and inside, etched by hand, were the words:

So time won't steal us apart- Love, Valerie

Draco didn't speak at first. He just stared at it — this quiet, ancient thing that somehow felt warmer than anything he'd ever owned.

Valerie sat still, suddenly nervous.

"I... restored it," She mentioned. "And spelled it. It doesn't tick — but when I think of you, it chimes. Only you can hear it."

Draco's fingers brushed the inscription again, slow and reverent. "You enchanted it?"

She nodded, watching him carefully. "I wanted to give you something that... stays. Even when I can't."

He looked up at her — and for a moment, something fragile passed through his expression. He closed the watch gently, cradling it in his palm like it was the most precious thing he owned.

"This is the best gift I've ever gotten."

Valerie blinked, startled. "Really?"

He nodded once. "No one's ever... made something for me before. Not like this."

She smiled — a little shy, a little proud.

The watch gave a soft, clear chime.

Draco looked down, lips curving faintly. "Was that you just now?"

"... Maybe." Valerie laughed, and he leaned forward, resting his forehead against hers for a second, the watch still cradled in his palm between them.

Sometimes, in the dead of night, the watch would chime softly, a faint reminder of time slipping by, of moments stolen between them. And when it chimed, Draco would close his eyes and hold it tighter, feeling a strange calm settle over his racing heart.

More often than not, his quill wandered across his schoolbooks, etching her name in tight, careful loops.

He loved her. Not just liked. Not just wanted. He loved her in a way that made his chest ache.

At the same time, somewhere across the castle, Valerie's breath caught in her throat as she watched the preparations for the third task. Harry—her brother—was going to face the maze alone.

Her fingers clenched at the hem of her black sweater sleeve. The worry twisted tight inside her chest like a cold knot.

Not her this time.

Only him.

The stadium was abuzz with noise. The maze had been built in the center of the Quidditch pitch, looming and unnatural — its hedges unnaturally tall, whispering as if alive.

The Third Task was about to begin.

Harry stood at the start line, wand in hand. Cedric beside him. Fleur and Krum a few feet off. They all looked so brave. So steady.

Valerie didn't feel brave. She felt sick.

Her breath caught as Harry glanced up at the stands. Their eyes met. Just for a second.

Be careful, she mouthed.

He nodded. Gave her that quick, lopsided grin. Like he always did when things were about to go horribly wrong.

A hand brushed hers — Draco.

He had appeared beside her silently, like he always did when she needed him. His black coat was slightly askew. His eyes found hers. "You alright?"

She nodded once, too fast.

Draco said nothing more. Just sat with her in silence. His fingers wrapped with hers. The world roared around them, but between them, it was quiet.

The maze rustled in the distance, but no one could see what was happening inside. Valerie sat frozen, shoulder pressed tight to Draco's side, hands curled into fists in her lap.

Her stomach was twisted. Every muscle in her body was tight.

Eric whispered, "They've been in there nearly an hour..."

Valerie didn't answer.

A sharp, pulsing pressure was building in her temples. Like a storm in her skull.

She blinked once — and the light around her shifted.

Too bright. Too white.

She gasped.

Then everything hit

Her lungs locked.

Her vision snapped white-hot, then plunged into darkness. And then—

Cedric Diggory.

Falling.

A green flash — too fast to stop.

Harry's scream cracked through the air.

Graves. Smoke.

Voldemort rising. His face inches from her own.

Her knees buckled. Valerie pitched forward in her seat.

Draco caught her with both arms. "Valerie—?!"

Her eyes had gone completely grey. Her body was ice-cold.

Eric stumbled up. "What's happening?!"

Valerie was trembling violently. She clutched Draco's coat in a death grip.

"I've got you," He whispered urgently. "It's okay, I've got you."

But she wasn't hearing him.

She lurched to her feet.

Then she started running down the stadium stairs.

Nearly tripping.

Draco shouted after her, bolting to follow. Eric was right behind them.

Her feet barely worked. Her knees threatened to give way with every step.

The world spun. She couldn't breathe.

But she had to get to Dumbledore.

She had to save her brother. In her mind,

Harry was dueling Voldemort.

Red and green lights crashing.

Dumbledore turned just as Valerie stumbled out of the stands. He was surrounded by McGonagall, Moody, and Bagman.

She collapsed into Dumbledore's arms, grabbing his robes with shaking hands.

"Miss Potter—?"

Her eyes were wide, wild. Full grey.

She tried to speak. To scream. To warn him.

Nothing. Just broken breaths and a choked sob.

Draco was there an instant later, skidding beside her, one hand on her back, one gripping her hand.

"Help her!" He snarled. "She's not okay!"

Dumbledore's face changed — no longer calm.

"Her eyes..." McGonagall whispered.

Valerie pointed toward the maze — And then—

FLASH

The Triwizard Cup shot out of the maze like it had been spit up.

Harry landed on the ground with a thud, arms wrapped around someone—

Dumbledore's expression shattered.

Screams rang out.

McGonagall gasped.

Cedric Diggory was dead.

The world was silent. The cup lay in the grass, still glowing faintly. Cedric lay beside it—still, grey, gone. Harry was crying. Loud, messy, shaking sobs. He gripped Cedric's body like he could bring him back.

"No—no—no—someone help—he said to bring him back—please—someone help him—!"

Voices echoed all around. Shouting. Running. Someone screamed.

But Valerie heard none of it.

She half-ran, half-stumbled, her legs barely working. The world was blurry—her ears rang like a bell—but she kept moving, pushing through the crowd, ignoring the looks and gasps.

"Harry," She breathed, choking on the word.

He didn't see her.

Not until she was right there—sinking to her knees beside him on the grass.

His head jerked up at the sound of her.

He was crying so hard he couldn't breathe.

"Val—Val—he's—he's gone—he told me to bring him back, and I—"

Valerie didn't say anything.

She didn't need to.

She just wrapped her arms around him.

Harry collapsed into her—gripping her like a lifeline, burying his face into her neck, sobbing.

She held on. Tight. Rocking slightly.

I know. I saw it all.

Harry just shook his head, clinging harder, broken and lost.

They knelt like that in the grass, two halves of the same trauma, holding each other as the world spun into something darker than it had been just hours ago.

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ♡ *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

IN THE SHADOWED GLOOM of Moody's office, Harry sits weak and vulnerable, while Valerie watches anxiously. Moody's voice cuts through the silence, cold and unyielding, revealing the cruel truth: Valerie was never more than a pawn—his sole obsession was ensuring Harry's arrival at the graveyard, no matter what sacrifices were made. He confesses to orchestrating every twisted detail, including whispering the bone-breaking curse to Pansy Parkinson, designed to force Harry into peril. With a chilling calm, Moody boasts that Harry's very blood is a tool of the Dark Lord, and that he has succeeded in silencing the great Harry Potter forever. As the darkness in the room thickens, Valerie's defiant spell rings out, stunning Moody—just as the door crashes open, McGonagall, Dumbledore, and Snape step into the charged silence, ready to confront the sinister truth.

The air in the Great Hall, usually so vibrant with noise and laughter, was thick with a heavy, unnatural silence. Faces were pale, eyes red-rimmed. Students whispered in hushed tones, or simply stared, lost in a daze of disbelief about the death of Cedric Diggory.

Hogwarts, the safest place they knew, had been touched by true darkness.

Fear, cold and insidious, had settled in every corner.

For Harry, that fear was a constant, suffocating companion. He moved through the days like a ghost, the weight of what he'd seen, of what he'd faced, pressing down on him. The gazes of the other students, a mix of pity and fearful awe, only added to his crushing isolation.

Valerie felt it all.

Harry's pain wasn't just something she observed: it was a dull, persistent ache in her own chest, a phantom anxiety that thrummed beneath her skin.

Their moments were quiet. She'd sit beside him during meals, or just appear at his side in a corridor. Sometimes, she'd just rest a hand on his arm, a silent anchor in his tumultuous internal world. He'd lean into her touch, a small, almost imperceptible softening in his rigid posture. She saw his grief, his terror, his raw, unyielding burden, and in those silent exchanges, they found a fragile comfort.

The end-of-term train ride loomed, bringing with it a fresh wave of anxiety for Valerie and Draco.

Their stolen moments over the past few months had been precious, but summer meant distance and separation.

Draco pulled her into a tight hug, his fingers tangling in her hair. "I hate this," He murmured, his voice rough against her ear. "Knowing I won't see you everyday."

Valerie clung to him, the knot in her stomach tightening. "I know. It's... it's going to be hard. But hey, at least we have our phones? We can call and text each other."

He pulled back slightly, cupping her face in his hands, his grey eyes searching hers. "I'll visit you."

Valerie blinked, surprised. "How? Your parents—"

"My parents," He cut in, a rare, cunning grin touching his lips, "Think I get dreadfully bored at home as an only child. Which is true. They're used to me spending holidays at Blaise's, or Theo's." He shrugged. "I'll tell them I'm going to Zabini Manor. They won't question it. They never do."

A surge of genuine, unadulterated happiness bloomed in Valerie's chest, pushing back against the recent gloom. It was audacious. It was risky. And it was exactly what she needed to hear. "You'd do that?"

"Of course, I would," Draco said, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. He leaned in and kissed her, a deep, lingering kiss that tasted of promise and defiance. "No amount of distance, or parental disapproval, is going to stop this. You hear me?"

Valerie laughed, a soft, hopeful sound. "I hear you."

Just before their departure, there was one piece of good news amidst the general somber mood of the castle. Harry, still reeling, but determined to honour Cedric and make some good come of their situation, had a quiet word with Valerie. Together, they made a decision. They found Fred and George Weasley near the Gryffindor common room entrance.

"We want you to have this," Harry had said, pushing a heavy, bulging pouch into Fred's hand.

It was their Triwizard winnings, all thousand Galleons.

Fred's jaw dropped, and George's eyes bulged. "Are you mad?" Fred had croaked, staring at the gold.

"No," Valerie had said, a small, firm smile on her face. "It's for the joke shop. You two have been talking about it for years. This is your start."

The twins, momentarily speechless, had then dissolved into a chaotic, joyous frenzy of hugs and exclamations, promising them a lifetime supply of Fainting Fancies and Extendable Ears. It was a brief, bright spark of hope in the darkness, a reminder of future laughter amidst present sorrow.

The Hogwarts Express pulled away from Hogsmeade Station, the whistle blowing a long, melancholy farewell.

Before the familiar group boarded, Valerie and Eric had made their rounds through the carriages. Valerie had hugged her roommates tightly – Millicent, Ivory, Daphne, and Miranda. "Have a good summer, girlies," She said, a genuine warmth in her voice.

Now, in the compartment, a comfortable quiet had fallen. Ron was grumbling about a particularly foul jelly bean he had just tasted, while Eric was scrolling through his phone.

Draco was leaning his head against the window, watching the blur of the Scottish countryside.

When the trolley witch eventually came by, her cart laden with Cauldron Cakes and Pumpkin Pasties, they all bought something.

The conversation drifted, a mix of light banter about next year's classes and comfortable silences.

There were no heavy discussions about the tournament, no reminders of the darkness that had descended.

For these few hours, they were just students, friends, making their way home, finding a fragile sense of normalcy in the shared space.

The Hogwarts Express slowly, gently, began to lose speed. The rhythmic clickety-clack of the wheels softened, replaced by the soft hiss of brakes and the distant clamour of London.

Valerie's hand, which had been resting on Draco's knee above his black trousers, subtly tightened. He felt it and his own fingers instantly curled around hers, their hands intertwined, a silent anchor in the swirling anxiety of impending separation.

Neither wished to let go.

The train shuddered to a halt. The compartment door slid open, and a rush of excited chatter and the shouts of parents flooded the corridor.

With a shared glance, the group began to gather their belongings.

Stepping out onto the bustling Platform 9 ¾ felt like being plunged into a chaotic, brightly lit world after months in a shadowed dream.

Parents called out names, owls hooted, and trunks clattered. Valerie turned first to Ron, who looked relieved to be off the train.

"See you, Ron," She said, giving him a quick, warm hug. "Try not to get into too much trouble this summer."

"You too, Val," He smiled.

Hermione offered Valerie a knowing smile and a hug. "Text, call or write to me, Valerie. About everything. And take care of Harry."

"I will," Valerie promised, squeezing her hand. "You too, Hermione. Don't work too hard."

Then she turned to Eric.

His usual mischievous grin was softened by a genuine, almost sentimental, expression. He flung his arm around her, pulling her into a tight hug that lifted her slightly off her feet.

"My dearest sweetheart!" He declared loudly, "Don't you dare forget your favourite Slytherin!" He leaned in, whispering, "And do not forget to use that pencil. Send me the ugly sketches of Harry, especially."

Valerie laughed, a real, uninhibited sound, as she hugged him back fiercely. "Never, Eric. You too. Don't be too insufferable without me."

Finally, her gaze met Draco's.

The easy smiles and witty remarks vanished.

The crowded platform seemed to fade, leaving only the two of them.

His hand, which had clasped tightly in hers, squeezed once more.

"I'll miss you," He murmured, his thumb tracing the back of her hand.

"I'll miss you too," Valerie whispered, her voice catching. Their eyes locked, a silent conversation passing between them – promises, fears, the raw ache of parting.

Then, oblivious to the throng around them, Draco pulled her into a fierce, desperate hug. His arms tightened around her, burying his face in her hair.

Valerie clung to him, inhaling the familiar scent of his expensive cologne, trying to memorise the feel of him.

He pulled back just enough to look into her eyes, then lowered his head and kissed her. It was a brief, tender, yet utterly defiant kiss, a silent declaration amidst the chaos.

Without another word, he turned, his blond hair a striking beacon as he began to walk away, quickly disappearing into the surging crowd.

Valerie watched him go, a profound sense of loss settling over her, even as the warmth of his kiss still lingered on her lips.

A moment later, a quiet presence appeared beside her. Harry. He didn't say anything, simply offered a small, tired smile. She reached for his hand, and he took it, their fingers intertwining. Together, the two Potters, battered but unbroken, turned and walked away, leaving the echoes of a lost year behind and carrying the fragile hope of new beginnings.

The Goblet of Fire was over, but the games, they both knew, had only just begun.

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ♡ *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

word count : 6,653

WE MADE IT THROUGH GOBLET OF FIRE !! ♡⸜(ˆᗜˆ˵ )⸝♡

what a wild ride!

the end of this book is heavy, but it was important to me to show how these events, both the good and the bad, have shaped the Potter twins.

we have seen Valerie face her fears and come into her own, not just as a Seer, but as a person who can offer comfort and a profound connection to those she loves.

Harry's pain is something she feels so deeply, and their final moment on the platform shows that their bond is stronger than ever.

the introduction of Dumbledore's pencil and Hermione's sketchbook is a beautiful symbol of Valerie finding her voice, even when she can't speak.

and Draco's quiet defiance of his father is a testament to the love he has for Valerie—he's willing to risk everything for her.

what were your favourite moments from this chapter? 🥰

let me know, and thank you all for reading !

I LOVE YOU ALL

— XOXO, VENUS💋💋💋