thirty six : DRAWN BY THE LAKE

chapter xxxvi : drawn by the lake

"she was humming a song meant for the dead."

THE CORRIDOR OUTSIDE POTIONS REEKED FAINTLY OF DAMP STONE. Twelve year old Valerie Potter stormed out of class, her soft black hair around her shoulders, clutching her books to her chest. "Move it, Potter," Draco Malfoy sneered, stepping into her path. His voice was sharp, his smirk cruel in the way only a twelve-year-old boy could manage. "Or should I say—Angel?"

He drew the word out mockingly, eyes glinting with malicious amusement.

Valerie's cheeks burned. "Don't call me that," She snapped.

     "Oh, but it fits," Draco taunted, falling into step beside her as she shoved past him. "Such a sweet little angel—halo and all—when really, you're a devil underneath. Isn't that right?"

She bit her tongue to stop herself from grinning, because she hated that his words made her pulse race.

He had no idea that every insult landed differently for her—that she liked the way his attention lingered, even when it came barbed.

And Draco, for all his smug laughter, didn't quite understand why he kept saying it. Angel. A name meant to sting, but it rolled off his tongue too easily, sticking in the back of his mind long after she was gone.

The memory drifted away like smoke as Valerie blinked, her hand resting on her pregnant belly. The nickname echoed in her mind, sharper now, but softened by years and circumstance.

Outside, a gentle mist hovered over the lake, but inside, the kitchen was warm and filled with the comforting scent of a proper breakfast. Draco Malfoy had cooked, a small, domestic gesture that was a universe away from the terrified boy who had pulled her from the water last night. He slid a plate of scrambled eggs, plump sausages, and a buttered English muffin in front of her.

Valerie Potter started eating, her hunger a powerful, undeniable force. She was nearly five months pregnant, and it felt like she was eating for two babies. She was already on her second serving, savouring every bite, the quiet act of eating a profound contrast to the chaos they had left behind.

Beside her, on the dark wood table, lay her open drawing journal and a silver pencil.

She had been doodling absentmindedly, lost in thought.

A small page had already been torn out—a sketch she had done on a whim a few days ago.

It was a simple, stark design: a circle within a triangle, with a single, straight line bisecting the two. Below it, she had scrawled a short, urgent note: "I think this is important - v.r.p." She had slipped the note into Hermione Granger's schoolbag, hoping against all logic that her friend would find it and get the message.

Draco, however, was barely touching his food.

He moved the eggs around his plate with his fork, his silver eyes distant and haunted. The terror from the night before still clung to him, a cold shroud of dread.

The image of her body, still and lifeless in his arms, was a memory he would never be able to un-see.

Valerie reached across the table, her hand gently covering his. "I'm right here, my love," She said, her voice soft and reassuring. "We're okay. We're both safe."

He finally looked at her, and the raw emotion in his eyes nearly broke her heart. "I... almost lost you, Val," He whispered, his voice cracking. "I almost lost you. I don't know what I'd do—"

He was cut off by a sudden whoosh of air as a large owl swooped down, its talons extended.

It landed gracefully on the open window, its leg extended with a tightly rolled parchment.

Draco's eyes narrowed instantly as he recognised the Malfoy crest. He stood up, taking the letter. The bird hooted softly before flying off into the mist.

He sat back down, the parchment in his hands.

Valerie, seemingly unbothered, returned to her scrambled eggs, chewing thoughtfully.

The letter was sealed with the heavy, intricate crest of the Malfoy family, a symbol of a world Draco had desperately tried to leave behind. He opened it slowly, his jaw tight, his silver eyes scanning the elegant, infuriatingly familiar script of his father.

The letter was a demand.

Lucius Malfoy was furious, his words a venomous, commanding script on the page.

He demanded Draco's immediate presence at the Manor, a summons that could not be ignored.

It was a threat, a challenge, and a cold reminder that Draco was a Malfoy before anything else.

He placed the letter on the table, a heavy sigh escaping his lips. "It's my father," His words heavy with resignation. "He's demanding I come to the Manor."

Valerie was chewing on a piece of sausage, her instincts suddenly alive with a powerful, humming energy.

Her mind, which had been blissfully quiet, was now filled with a sense of urgency. Her seer's gift, like a compass, was pulling her toward that very place.

She swallowed her food, her warm brown eyes meeting his with a new, resolute intensity.

"I need to go with you," Her voice was firm.

Draco's head snapped up, his eyes widening in shock and fear. "No," He answered, his voice flat and stern. "Absolutely not. My father would try to hurt you. He'll—"

            "—I know," She interrupted, her hand still resting on his. "But something's telling me I have to be there. I can feel it, Draco. Something important is waiting for me... Please." She pleaded, her voice a soft, desperate whisper. "You have to trust me."

The drive to Malfoy Manor was a journey through a landscape as bleak and cold as the silence inside the car. The powerful hum of the Porsche's engine was the only sound, a low, mechanical growl that filled the space between them. Draco's knuckles were white, clutching the steering wheel as if it were the only thing keeping him from flying apart.

His jaw was clenched, his silver eyes fixed on the empty road ahead, haunted by the memory of Valerie's cold, lifeless body in his arms.

The silence was a suffocating thing, thick with his fear, his frustration, and the suffocating weight of the world they were about to re-enter.

Valerie sat beside him, a serene stillness about her that was a complete contrast to his turmoil.

Her hand rested on her stomach, gently rubbing circles on the soft curve of her maternity black dress. Her mind, guided by a compass only she could see, was calm.

She knew this was the right path, a necessary and terrifying step on a journey she was only just beginning to understand.

As they drove, the scenery grew darker and more severe.

The soft, wild trees of the countryside gave way to manicured lawns and towering iron gates.

Finally, a massive black mansion materialised from the mist, an imposing, soulless structure that loomed against the pale sky like a tomb.

It was her first time seeing Draco's home, and the sheer scale of it took her breath away.

It was a monument to old money and cold, unforgiving power.

As they neared the gates, her gaze fell upon the sprawling gardens.

Amidst the perfectly pruned rose bushes and statues, a flicker of dark blue and green caught her eye.

Then another. And another.

A small flock of peacocks, their pristine feathers stark against the dark green lawn, strutted through the grounds.

A profound ache, a sharp, bittersweet pang, tugged at her heart.

She hadn't seen a peacock since Eric's Patronus.

The memory of her fallen friend, of his laughter and his light, filled her with a terrible sadness, but also a quiet sense of purpose.

The car stopped in front of the grand, double doors.

As Draco shut off the engine, the silence returned, heavier and more profound than before.

The oppressive atmosphere of the manor, a tangible aura of cold magic and suffocating darkness, immediately hit her.

This place was not like the lake house: there was no warmth here, no sanctuary.

The immense double doors of the manor swung open without a sound, revealing a vast foyer that was as cold and empty as a tomb.

No one was there to greet them.

A single, bowing house-elf motioned for them to follow.

They were led not into a drawing room, but up the grand, sweeping staircase. The air grew colder with every step, the portraits on the walls seeming to watch them with judging, disdainful eyes.

When they reached the top, a set of double doors stood slightly ajar. The house-elf bowed one last time before scurrying away. Draco pushed the doors open, his hand finding Valerie's and holding it tight.

Inside, in a lavish sitting room filled with dark, ornate furniture, Lucius and Narcissa Malfoy were waiting.

Lucius, immaculate in his robes, his face a mask of cold fury, rose from his chair. His eyes, a chilling silver, were fixed on his son.

He had expected to see Draco, but seeing a pregnant Valerie Potter, a half-blood, beside him?

He had no idea what was going on.

Narcissa was seated on a velvet sofa, her hands clasped tightly in her lap, her face a serene mask that betrayed nothing of the battle raging within her.

          "—Draco," Lucius' voice was a low, venomous hiss. "What is the meaning of this? What on earth is she doing here?"

Draco's hand tightened around his girlfriend's, a desperate, silent plea for strength.

His entire body was tense, but he held his head high, his gaze unwavering.

For his entire life, he had been a shadow to his father's darkness, a follower. But today, with Valerie's hand in his, he was a man.

"She's the girl I've been in love with for years, Father," He declared, his voice quiet but firm, a strength Lucius had never heard before. "—And she's carrying my child."

Lucius' grey eyes widened, a flicker of stunned disbelief before his face contorted into a mask of pure, unadulterated fury. "You... WHAT...?!" He snarled, a low, guttural growl escaping his throat. "Have you lost your mind?? And—And a child??" His gaze dropped to Valerie's visible baby bump, and his lips curled into a sneer of pure disgust. "YOU HAVE DISGRACED OUR FAMILY NAME!"

Before Lucius could raise his voice again, a sudden stillness fell over the room.

It was not a silence, but an absence of sound, a vacuum that stole the very air from their lungs.

The torches on the wall flickered wildly, the flames seeming to shrink away in fear.

A cold, palpable wave of darkness swept into the room, and the floor seemed to tremble.

Lord Voldemort appeared in the doorway, his skeletal form a terrifying silhouette against the gloom. He glided forward, his eyes with a cold amusement. Lucius and Narcissa immediately bowed low, their bodies shaking with a profound and familiar terror.

Lucius stammered, his words choked by fear. "My Lord... I was just... trying to reason with my son."

Valerie, seeing the cold, calculating look in Voldemort's eyes, instinctively tugged on the black buttons of her coat, pulling them shut to hide the small swell of her pregnant belly. The simple, deliberate act was a silent, desperate prayer.

She was not bowing. She was not shaking. Her calm demeanour, in the face of his presence, was an anomaly.

"Harry Potter's sister..." Voldemort whispered, his voice a sibilant hiss that slithered through the air. "What brings you here?"  

"She is with me, My Lord," Draco answered, his voice trembling slightly. His hand tightened around Valerie's, a desperate, silent plea for strength.

           "For ... love?" Voldemort said, his voice dripping with condescension. "I have no use for love. It is a weak, human emotion. A child's foolish fantasy. I am here for strength, Draco. For power." His eyes bore into Valerie's, a cold fire burning in their depths. "Tell me, Miss Potter. What is your use to me? Why should I allow you to live?"

Valerie did not flinch. "I can help you, My Lord," She answered her voice clear and even. "I can tell you things. I have a gift that will be of use to you."

Voldemort's lips curled into a thin, terrible smile. "I have heard that you are a Seer, Miss Potter. But what good is a Seer who has never spoken a prophecy? I am not so easily fooled by pretty words." He took a step forward, his hand darting out and seizing Valerie's. His touch was cold and dry, like old paper. "Show me. Prove to me that you are useful. Tell me a prophecy. Now."

The instant his skin touched hers, Valerie's eyes closed, a subtle, almost imperceptible shift in her mind.

The world faded away, replaced by a roaring silence, and the humming returned, louder and more insistent than ever.

Her head began to gently sway from side to side, her body an empty vessel.

The sound of a woman's soft, melodic voice echoed in her mind, a song from another time, another life.

When her eyes finally opened, they were no longer a warm, vibrant brown. They were a flat silver, as if the light in them had been extinguished forever.

Her mouth opened, and it was not Valerie's voice that spoke, but Melody's—a low, melodic whisper that filled the terrifying silence of the room.

"The castle built of stone and art, will crumble from its very heart. The Dark Lord will rise with dark desire."

The low, melodic whisper faded, leaving a terrifying silence in its wake. The torches on the wall flickered back to a normal flame, and the oppressive vacuum of air was gone. Voldemort stood perfectly still, his eyes fixed on Valerie, his skeletal face unreadable.

Valerie's head slowly straightened, her mouth closing, and the flat, grey light in her eyes began to fade. A tremor of exhaustion ran through her, and her body swayed slightly.

Draco, who had been frozen in terror, moved instantly.

He pulled her back against him, his arm a steel band around her waist, holding her up.

"Val?" He whispered, his voice thick with fear. "Are you alright?"

Valerie's eyes, now their normal warm brown, blinked slowly, a dazed, disoriented look in their depths.

She was so tired, so utterly drained, but she was alive.

Lucius and Narcissa were still bowed low, their bodies shaking, a mixture of terror and awe emanating from them.

Voldemort was the first to speak.

He glided closer, his voice a low, sibilant whisper that seemed to caress the words as he spoke them. "The castle... will crumble... and I will rise..." He repeated the words to himself, a chilling, calculating expression on his face. He didn't seem to care that Valerie had nearly collapsed.

He didn't care about anything but the words themselves.

Draco pulled Valerie closer, his arm a steel band around her waist, and looked Voldemort directly in his terrible eyes. "My Lord," He pleaded, his voice thick with a desperate courage he had never known he possessed. "Please. You have me. You have always had my loyalty. We will give you information from here. We can provide you with every—"

                "—Silence," Voldemort's voice was a soft, deadly hiss, laced with pure contempt. "Your loyalty, Draco? It is a pathetic, fluttering thing. You love this... this half-blood. You would betray everything you were born to protect for her. And you call that loyalty?" He turned his gaze on Lucius, who flinched. "He is weak. His loyalty is nothing but a leash I can pull. But her?" His eyes returned to Valerie, a chilling glint in their depths. "Her survival is a bargain. One she must be willing to pay for. Do you understand, boy?"

Draco's breath hitched, the raw fear finally breaking through his defiance.

He could feel the tremors in Valerie's body, the profound exhaustion radiating from her. He looked at the floor, unable to bear the weight of Voldemort's stare, unable to look at his father's cowering form.

"My Lord," Narcissa's voice, though barely a whisper, was steady. She was no longer cowering like her husband: the fear for her son and her unborn grandchild had hardened into a quiet resolve. "My son and his... partner... they will serve you. They will do anything you ask."

Voldemort's lips curled into a cold, cruel smile. "I know they will. You are useful, Miss Potter. More useful than I could have ever imagined." He reached out, not with a threat this time, but a cold, possessive touch. "You will be my weapon. You will feed me prophecies, and in return, I will grant you... survival."

Lucius was still on his knees, staring at the floor with a mix of terror and utter humiliation. He had lost control of his son, his family's future, and now, it seemed, even his house.

Voldemort's gaze settled on them, and a slow, cruel smile spread across his face, one that held the cold satisfaction of a king who had just acquired a new and valuable piece on the board. "Good." With a final, chilling ripple in the air, he was gone. He had not taken them: he had simply claimed them, leaving them in the middle of a family that now feared them as much as they feared him.

Narcissa had risen to her feet, her hand going to her son's arm. Her face, though still a serene mask, held a flicker of steel. She had saved him. She had saved them both, for now.

Lucius had been ready to beg, to grovel, to rage, and it would have led to their deaths.

But she had been the one to offer their loyalty, to make the bargain that had granted them this fragile, temporary existence.

She looked at Draco, her eyes silently asking him if he was alright, if Valerie was alright.

Draco could feel his father's hot, venomous stare on him, but he no longer cared.

He looked from his father's humiliated face to his mother's brave one.

He pulled Valerie closer and guided her out of the room, past his parents.

Narcissa bowed her head slightly, a gesture of respect and sorrow. Lucius remained on his knees, a silent monument to his own shattered pride.

They didn't say a word, didn't dare to.

The silence was heavier than any conversation, a constant reminder of the unseen master who owned them.

They walked in silence through the long corridors, the air thick with the echoes of their new reality.

They descended the grand staircase, their footsteps echoing in the tomb-like foyer.

As the massive doors closed behind them, Draco felt a suffocating, almost physical weight lift from his shoulders.

He felt an intense, desperate need to be back in the warmth of the lake house.

The drive back was a mirror of the drive there, but a hundred times more tense.

There was no longer the looming threat of the unknown: now, there was the terrifying, permanent truth of their imprisonment.

They were not free. They were simply allowed to go home.

Draco drove the car like a man possessed, desperate to put as much distance as he could between them and the Manor, though he knew it was a futile gesture.

He kept glancing at Valerie, her quiet face and closed eyes.

When they finally arrived back at the lake house, the moon was high in the sky. The mist over the lake had thickened, shrouding everything in a quiet, ethereal gloom.

They entered the kitchen, the familiar scent of woodsmoke and old books a comforting balm.

But the warmth they had felt that morning was gone.

The room felt cold, the silence was no longer peaceful, but heavy and expectant.

Draco guided Valerie to the sofa by the fireplace, wrapping a heavy wool blanket around her.

She was shivering, a deep, silent tremor that had nothing to do with the cold.

The physical and emotional exhaustion of the day was finally catching up to her. He knelt in front of her, his hands holding hers. "Val," He whispered, "We're home. Are you feeling okay, my angel?"

Valerie lifted her other hand and gently touched his cheek. She could feel the tension in his jaw, the raw fear in his silver eyes. "I know it doesn't feel safe," She whispered, her voice softening. "But we have to believe we can still find our way. Even when it's dark, there's always a small light. We just have to hold onto it. I have Melody's guidance. She told me to trust her. We just need to stay strong, with hope."

Draco's breath hitched.

He closed his eyes, leaning his head into her touch.

The fear was still there, a cold knot in his stomach, but her quiet certainty was a balm.

He reached out, his hand gently finding its way to the soft curve of her maternity dress, his fingers tracing slow, deliberate circles on her stomach.

He could feel the soft, reassuring warmth of her skin.

He didn't need to see the light she was talking about.

He could feel it.

He opened his eyes, and the raw emotion in their silver depths was a powerful, open wound. "Hope," He repeated, the word a promise. "For you... for us... for our baby." He looked down at her stomach, at the life growing inside her, a life he would protect with every fibre of his being, even in this terrifying new world.

In that moment, surrounded by the shadows, the little house by the lake felt like the most sacred, most guarded place in the world.

It was a moment of perfect, fragile peace, a stark contrast to the violence and fear of the day.

They sat in that silence for a long time, just the two of them, held together by a love that had become their only anchor.

The couple had a small, silent dinner—just a few sandwiches and soup—the food a hollow comfort in the face of their unspoken fears.

Afterward, they moved through the house with a quiet grace, the unspoken understanding between them thicker than any conversation. They were a pair of phantoms, lost in their own thoughts.

In the bedroom, Valerie slipped into a pair of soft silk pajamas, the gentle fabric a welcome relief after the long, tense day.

She sat on a small wooden chair by the window and picked up her hairbrush, running it slowly through her straight black hair.

Unconsciously, she began to hum a tune, a soft, melodic, wordless lullaby.

It was a melody that felt beautiful.

She was humming a song meant for the dead, a tune only the Silent Seers could hear.

Draco, in the connected bathroom, was in the shower.

The rhythmic spray of the water was a reassuring sound, a mundane noise that briefly masked the chaos that had become their lives.

Valerie set her hairbrush beside the lampshade and felt a sudden, profound chill that had nothing to do with the night air.

Her eyes drifted to the window. It was slightly ajar, letting in a whisper of cold, damp air.

She stood, pulling the latch and sliding the window closed with a soft click.

It was in that very moment, as the glass sealed the room off from the night, that she saw it.

A figure had appeared on the surface of the lake, shimmering in the moonlight.

It was not a reflection.

It was not a trick of the mist.

It was a beautiful, terrifying mermaid, her skin a ghostly white, her long hair the colour of bone.

Her blue tail, a cascade of opalescent scales, twisted in the water with an unearthly grace.

She was beautiful, an ethereal nightmare.

It was Lilith.

Valerie's heart dropped, a cold stone in her chest.

A profound, chilling certainty settled over her.

She was here to pull her under, to claim her.

Valerie wanted to scream, to call out Draco's name, but no sound would come.

The humming in Valerie's mind grew louder, a buzzing that twisted the beautiful melody she had just been humming into a discordant, maddening shriek.

Lilith was a ghost driven by a broken heart.

Her sorrow had festered for centuries, turning her into a monster that hunted a very specific prey: the souls of Silent Seers, the direct descendants of the wizard who had promised her everything and then abandoned her to her fate.

Lilith wasn't here to collect a random soul.

She was here for the soul that looked most like his.

She was here for a soul from his bloodline, a soul she could mistake for his.

And she was here for Valerie Potter.

⋆˙⟡

i want to take a moment to clear up some of the lore for you readers.

it's a bit complicated, so i want to make sure it makes sense.

as a reminder, both valerie and harry potter are descendants of the wizard from lilith's story.

his bloodline is cursed because of his tragic, failed attempt to bond with the mermaid.

this act tragically transferred her sorrow and seer abilities onto his descendants.

however, they only activate in a very select few individuals, like melody, aurora, isabel, freya, and of course, valerie.

when a silent seer's abilities awaken, it also awakens lilith's ghost.

she has been grieving for centuries, and in her sorrow, she mistakes the new seer's soul for her long-lost love.

that is why she wants to claim them and pull them under.

she is a ghost driven by a broken heart.

so now, valerie has two big threats: voldemort, who sees her as a weapon, and lilith, who wants to take her soul.

both of them want her, and she has to figure out a way to survive both.

please ask any questions if u have any my lovely readers <3

✨ WE HIT 70K READS !!! ✨

i honestly can't believe it. this feels like such a dream come true. i still remember when i first started writing this fanfic and was struggling just to get a handful of views, and now here we are—70,000 reads later.

thank you all so much for supporting me, leaving comments, and sticking with valerie potter's journey. every single read means the world to me.

please continue to vote and comment—your feedback, excitement, and theories are what keep me motivated to keep writing and sharing this story with you all. 💫

hugs & kisses,venus💛

( authors personal notes )published — monday 9:10pm september 29th 2025current amount of reads — 70.1kcurrent amount of story votes - 1.72kword count — 4,440