Firenze had a neutral expression as he listened without interruption to Harry. They were in the Forbidden Forest, where the bare branches swayed in time with the wind above them and clacked. Harry explained, without going into much detail, that he had been having dreams akin to premonitions. He also spoke of the terrible nightmares that felt too real. He wanted to know if anything could be done about them, whether he should be giving them much weight at all.

Firenze pursed his lips. "Do your dreams coincide with the shadows of the moon?" he wondered.

Harry shrugged. "I hadn't noticed. I don't think so." He rubbed his cold hands together. "I thought maybe you would know something about dream interpretation? Professor Trelawney taught us something about it a few years ago, but I honestly had no clue what she was talking about."

Firenze snorted and rested his hands on his hips, as he often did when Professor Trelawney was brought up. "What you need is not dream interpretation," he said. "Because there seems to be no need to 'interpret' these dreams. You say they happen."

"Once," Harry clarified. "It came true once. Almost. All the other 'premonitions' seem to happen too far ahead in future."

"And that dream came true exactly as you had seen it in your mind?"

"Yes. Until the end. In my dream, he drank the potion. In reality, I stopped him from drinking the potion."

"Interesting." Firenze clopped around Harry in a wide circle, his thoughts elsewhere even though he kept a close eye on the young man. "Very interesting."

"Should I be worried?" Harry unconsciously rubbed his scar. "Because the last time I had premonitions... Well, let's just say it didn't end well."

"What we need is more evidence," Firenze decided, coming to a stop right in front of Harry. He pushed a finger into Harry's chest. "You need to gather more evidence. More dreams. More nightmares. Make a note of it every morning for a month. Bring them to me."

Dream Journal Entry #1

The Burrow on fire. Everyone dead.

He often had nightmares of the Burrow going up in flames. It would happen in the middle of festive winter season. The Burrow would be full to the brim with Weasleys. The fire would start on the roof. It would spread. And there would be no escape.

He coughed as the smoke choked him. He was dragging Ron out of the smoldering bedroom with one hand while holding the collar of his shirt against his nose and mouth with the other. Ron was screaming for Hermione, asking where she was, begging her to say something so he could find her. But the fire was so loud, roaring and crackling, they couldn't hear anything. Harry had to force Ron forward, because his best friend was struggling against him, trying to go back in.

And then the ceiling collapsed onto them, awakening him.

Dream Journal Entry #3

Dragon plucks my eyes out. Has not happened yet (and hopefully never will).

This one didn't need much of an explanation.

Dream Journal Entry #7

AD's death. I couldn't move. Already happened.

He dreamt of the time he was frozen, unable to move as he watched Professor Snape speak the killing curse. He watched his headmaster get flung off of the Astronomy Tower and disappear from sight. He watched the panic in Draco's eyes, the revulsion in Severus'. All he could do was watch.

He awoke with a start and had to sit on the edge of the bed with his head between his knees to stop himself from throwing up.

Dream Journal Entry #10

Saw Mum and Dad.

Harry liked those dreams, even though they were bittersweet. He would dream that his mother and father were still alive, that they were waiting for him back home in Godric's Hollow. He would knock on their door and James would open it with a flourish before enveloping him in a bear hug. Inside he would hear his mother singing. Smell of fresh apple pie lingered in the air.

"Hey, Dad," he said as he folded into his father's embrace. "I missed you." He reveled in the strong arms wrapped around his back, the loving fingers in his hair, James' laugh.

"Harry?" Lily called from the kitchen. When he looked up over James' shoulder, he saw his mother peeking out from around the kitchen door, beaming at him. "Welcome home!" She waved at him to come in. "Oh, you are going to love tonight's dinner."

He awoke reluctantly as the alarm interrupted them, tears wetting his lashes.

Dream Journal Entry #14

I cursed DM in Sixth Year. Happened, but differently.

He had gone over this scenario many times both while awake and when asleep. How it could ended so differently...

"Cruci-"

"SECTUMSEMPRA!"

Harry dropped his wand the moment the spell escaped his tongue. The curse carved through Draco's face and chest. As he fell to the floor, Harry was sprinting towards him, skidding to a halt and falling onto his knees beside the trembling boy, blood streaking the water around them.

But instead of Moaning Myrtle shrieking for help, there was only the sound of burst and leaking pipes.

"No," Harry breathed. "I didn't-" The wounds were deep, the blood a deep crimson.

And Snape wasn't there to save Draco.

"HELP!" he screamed. "HELP ME! PLEASE!"

He awoke, his voice caught in his throat.

Dream Journal Entry #18

Lost Teddy in a crowd. Has not happened yet.

Harry dreamt that he had lost his godson in the middle of a very busy Diagon Alley. He had his hand on the boy one moment. The next moment, Teddy was gone.

"TEDDY? WHERE ARE YOU?"

He shouted and searched, going through each shop, peeking behind every stall, desperately asking the other witches and wizards around him if they had seen the young boy.

"TEDDY! TEDDY!"

No one would help him. He would plead with anyone who would pay attention to him. But, every time he tried to describe Teddy, the boy's image would morph in his mind. He couldn't remember what Teddy looked like.

When he awoke, he still hadn't found Teddy.

Dream Journal Entry #21

Argument(?) with DM. Has no happened yet.

In this dream, Harry found himself in the same bright flat he had dreamt of almost six months ago, the flat with the photographs. He was in the living room, his body taut with anger, fists clenched and jaw set. But he couldn't figure out what he was angry about. Opposite him stood Draco, his face flush and twisted into a scowl.

Harry unclenched his fists.

"Can I speak now?" Draco asked.

Harry nodded.

Draco took a breath and said, "I don't care."

Harry didn't know how to respond. He remained silent.

Draco folded his arms across his chest, his Adam's apple bobbing as he swallowed hard. "I don't care," he repeated. "Go. If that's what you want."

Harry swept his eyes over the man standing before him, taking him in. He was older, maybe ten years older. His sleeves were stained with black ink and pushed up to his elbows. Ink smudged his cheek and hair too. Behind him, on the mantle of the fireplace, were more photos. Photos of Harry with a group of Aurors, Teddy riding a broom wearing Hufflepuff robes, Draco behind a large writing desk, the two of them dressed to the nines and smiling at the camera-

"Harry."

He blinked and was awake in the dorm room.

Dream Journal Entry #25

Forever falling.

Harry despised this nightmare. It was an endless loop of him falling off of his broom and getting lost in the abyss, forever tumbling deeper and deeper into blackness with no end in sight. On nights with this dream, he would wake up every few minutes for many hours.

Dream Journal Entry #30

Breakfast with DM. Has not happened yet.

Quite literally, Harry dreamt of being in the Great Hall, eating breakfast with Draco. When he looked around, he saw that very few students were in attendance. The head table was almost empty, save for Headmistress McGonagall, Hagrid, and Professor Trelawney. Easter holidays, it seemed. And he hadn't gone to the Burrow.

"Aren't your parents worried about you?" he murmured.

Draco glanced up at him sharply. "That's not your business."

Harry met his glare. "I was just thinking out loud." He looked down at the half-eaten pancakes on his plate, poking at it with a fork. "Molly and Arthur, they try to hide it. It's obvious though, how happy they are when we go home. I bet your mum and-"

"Don't," Draco interrupted.

When Harry looked at him again, the glare had softened into something else. Maybe pain. Or guilt. Whatever it was, it made Harry's heart sink. "I didn't mean to-"

Draco shook his head. "Let's not."

When Harry awoke, his stomach remained twisted into an uncomfortable knot.

As he struggled through the wet mud out of the Forbidden Forest, he felt a bit better now that he had spoken to someone about his harrowing nights. Firenze was an expert in Divination. If anyone could help, it would be him. He had left his journal with the centaur.

"Harry," Hagrid boomed when he chanced upon Harry picking muck off of his shoes in front of the hut. "Not the bes' time to be out an' 'bout, eh?" The half-giant was carrying enormous logs of firewood in his arms, Fang wagging his tail behind him. "Fancy a cup?"

"That would be great, Hagrid," Harry said with a bright grin.

A few minutes later, the three of them were in the cabin in front of a roaring fire, sipping on steaming, strong black tea. Hagrid rocked in his chair while Fang was snoring with his nose just inches away from the burning logs. He was recounting the summer where he had visited Grawp in the mountains. He was convinced that his half-brother was the smartest of the bunch up in those caves. He spoke of the strange wild creatures they had hunted in the deep jungle, ones that tasted of fish and deer at the same time. It had been a very enlightening vacation. He even brought back some jerky.

As Harry gnawed on the tough, salty slice of meat handed to him, Hagrid sat back with a satisfied sigh and asked, "How've yeh bin?"

"Oh, fine. Good," Harry managed to say before ripping a piece of jerky off with his teeth successfully.

Hagrid combed his fingers through his beard, studying the young man before him. How time flew, he thought. "Are yeh really?"

Harry paused his painful chewing. He saw concern line Hagrid's forehead. "Really," he answered.

"'Cause if somethin's botherin' yeh, yeh'd tell Ron an' Hermione."

"Right."

Hagrid sat forward. "Or me."

Harry smiled in defeat. "Yes, or you," he promised.

"Well, that's settled," Hagrid said with a satisfied grin. "Now, see wha' I've in store fer tomorrow's lesson."

Harry really did believe that he was doing fine. He had certainly fared worse in the past. Anything was better than last year. He didn't have anything to complain about now. He had doting friends, the Ministry was basically handing him a job on a platter, he inherited Sirius' home, and life would be normal from now on.

Yes, sir. Very normal.

Harry snapped awake to find Draco gripping his shoulders, shaking him wildly. He jerked back and stumbled over his feet, that he suddenly realized was bare, cold, and very numb, and promptly fell on his bum. Looking around, he realized he was on the lawn outside the castle, sitting atop a few inches of fresh snow. Large white snowflakes fell around them in the dark of the night. Harry gawked up at Draco. "What the fuck?!"

Draco gesticulated at him in disbelief, throwing his arms out. "You tell me, Potter! You were sleepwalking!"

"Oh... Damn."