Title: Eyes of the Chosen
Author: Emcee
Summary: Draco and Derek discuss Derek's family and Gryffindor and Hufflepuff have their Quidditch rematch.
Author's Note: Thank-you to my muses, Rae and Fre and my beta and Pablo. This story is AU to "Order of the Phoenix". It is the sequel to Labyrinth of Illusion.

Disclaimer: "Harry Potter" and the characters, places and things related to it do not belong to me. They are from the brilliant mind of JK Rowling. They belong to her and her publishers. I am not making any profit from this fan fiction.

CHAPTER FOURTEEN
Games

There was a tension growing in the Gryffindor Common Room. Much to the relief of everyone, it was not a tension caused by the deaths that were plaguing the Wizarding World.

Instead, the rescheduled Quidditch match was the source of the nerves. Gryffindor was to play against Hufflepuff.

The one person who showed absolutely no emotion about the match was a bit of a surprise.

"Ron?" Harry held out Ron's broom to him. "You want to go out? I can throw a few quaffles to you, see how your keeping is doing."

Ron glanced up from his book, blinking. He scrunched up his long nose. "No, I'm into this book. Maybe later." He snuggled into the large easy chair and turned the page.

Harry furrowed his brow. "Are you sure, Ron? The match is tomorrow."

Ron shook his head. "Really. I'm sure. I just told you I'm really into this book."

Harry pulled the book from Ron's hand, studying the cover. He furrowed his brow, looking over the worn script writing on the cover "Mediwyn's Compendium of Psychics, Seers and Other Sighted Individuals?"

Ron snatched the book back. "Homework."

Harry sighed, running his fingers through his hair. "Ron, do you want to talk about this?"

"Talk about what?" Ron muttered, opening his book back up.

Harry rested his head on his hands. "Well, take your pick, really... Either the fact you're a Seer, or the fact you're afraid to fly."

Ron slammed the book shut. He glared at Harry, his brown eyes darkening. "I am not afraid to fly. But even if I was, I have a good reason! Last time I played Quidditch, I died. Gives a bloke something to think about."

"You only died a little," Harry supplied helpfully. He gave Ron a small smile. "I mean, Remus was able to bring you back in a minute."

Ron rubbed the bridge of his nose, shaking his head. "I died, Harry. For a minute, even if it was just a minute, I wasn't here. And I don't know where I was. Even with everything we do know, there is still one thing wizards haven't been able to figure out. That's where we go when we die. All I know is, wherever it is, I don't want to go there yet. I don't want to be away from my friends, my family."

Harry nodded slowly. "You're not going to die just by riding a broom."

"I'm not talking about flying Harry. I'm talking about this." He held up the book. "The Death Eaters want people with visions dead. So I want to know about it."

He shot Harry a brief, lopsided smile. "I'll be fine at the game. We'll trample Hufflepuff."

Derek's head slammed against the wall as he took another punch to the nose. He cried out.

Goyle grabbed him by the collar, pulling him up, nose to bloody nose. "What did you say about me?"

"N-N-Nothing," Derek stammered, trying to get away. "I-I d-d-didn't s-say anyth-thing!"

Goyle laughed, dropping Derek again. "You little stuttering freak. How did you even get in this school?"

"C-Could ask y-y-you the s-same question," Derek shot back, "I-I thought p-people h-had t-to be sm-smart t-to c-c-come here."

"Oh, you're going to pay, Gypsy." Goyle began to furiously pound his fists against Derek, hitting him repeatedly in the face. Derek tried to bring his hands up to protect himself.

"Goyle! What the do you think you're doing?"

Goyle turned, looking to Draco. Draco's cold grey eyes were emotionless. He crossed his arms over his chest. "Crabbe's looking for you. He's gotten a House Elf to bring some pastries to the Common Room." He cocked his head, gesturing down the hall. "Don't waste your time on this mudblood."

Goyle let go of Derek, pointing a thick finger at him. "You're getting off light."

He lumbered off. Draco kept staring at the crumpled heap of Derek, his eyes never losing their hardness. After a few moments, he strode forward and held out a hand.

Derek looked at it, cocking his head in question.

"Come on now, get up," Draco stretched out his hand. "He didn't hit you that hard."

"Th-thanks." Derek took Draco's hand, getting to his feet. "Wh-Why'd y-y--"

"Oh, shut up," Draco hissed. "I know you don't need to stammer. I've heard you speak clearly enough."

Derek shoved his hands in his pockets. "How'd you know?"

"You lose the stammer when you get angry. How long have you been putting it on?"

Shrugging, Derek looked down. "A couple of months now. I did stammer, and I got over it. I guess... Well, people never expect me to talk if they know it's not clear. I don't talk well."

Draco rolled his eyes. "That's stupid. You speak fine around me."

Derek shook his head, his long hair falling into his face, sticking to the blood. "You make me so damn angry, it's easy to talk to you."

"You're an idiot, Kalderasha. Come on, you need to get to the Hospital Wing." Draco grabbed Derek arm, tugging him down a corridor.

Derek stopped still, pulling away from Draco. "I'm beat up all the time, usually by your best mates. I don't need to go to the Hospital Wing every time."

Draco grabbed his arm again. "Fine. Then we'll go to the washroom and get you cleaned up."

"Why are you being so nice?" Derek demanded, pulling his arm away again, his eyes wide with a mix of confusion and anger. "You're Draco Malfoy! You're not supposed to be nice to me!"

Running his fingers through his hair, Draco let out a long sigh. He grabbed Derek by the arm, pulling him along towards the boy's lavatory. "Crabbe and Goyle... They're not friends. They're goons. They're going to go out and be Death Eaters and have a fun time doing it. Once they find out I'm not working with them anymore, they're going to try and kill me."

"I don't understand." Derek shook his head.

Draco just kept tugging Derek along. "All I have in Slytherin right now is a bunch of enemies. They just don't know it yet. Even if I am working on the same side, that doesn't mean I want to make nice with Potter, Weasley and Granger."

Once in the bathroom, Draco got a towel, wetting it in the sink. He placed it none-to-gently against Derek's bleeding nose, staring into his eyes. "And, as much as I am loathed to admit it, you don't make me sick to my stomach."

Derek glared at Draco, holding the towel to his nose. "Oh, thank you some much," His voice was slightly muffled. "I'm honoured."

Eyes glimmering, Draco gave Derek a smile. "Now, doesn't it feel good not to stammer? You didn't really explain why you do it."

"If I didn't stammer, people would expect me to say things. This way, people think I don't talk because of it."

Draco cocked an eyebrow. "So why don't you want to talk? Other than that lame reason you gave before."

Leaning against the wall, Derek slid down slowly to sit on the floor. "I stand out enough as it is. I'm Romany, my sister's got a none-to-stellar reputation-- At least most of the people who remember that have left school now-- it was always easier to just hide in the background."

"Your sister?" Draco started to daub a wound on Derek's forehead. "I don't know her."

"It was the year before you came to Hogwarts, if I remember correctly. She had an incident with Professor Snape."

Draco shrugged, focusing on the wounds. "An incident with Pro-- Crazy Kalderasha." He nodded. "Of course. Flint told me about that. "

Derek nodded. "Yeah."

"I can understand why you'd hide," Draco commented. "A Mudblood gypsy with a crazy sister."

"I'm not a Mudblood," Derek grumbled, moving the towel and sniffling. "I'm a pureblood. Sure, Mama's Romany, but that doesn't make her any less a witch. And Da'..." Derek looked down, talking into his chest. "Well, he was pureblood."

Draco sat down beside Derek. "You don't know him, do you? Was your mum a servant or something?"

"No," Derek growled. "My parents were married. Da' was a Merlin, but he married her. See, he actually cared about what happened to her. But I don't know him." Derek wrung the blood towel in his hand. "He was attacked by a Death Eater before I was born."

Draco stared down at his hands, unsure how to respond to that. His immediate thought was whether or not--

"It wasn't Lucius," Derek responded, answering the question Draco dared not ask aloud. "I know who it was. And it wasn't Lucius. Don't get me wrong, I hate your father, but it's not personal."

Draco shrugged. "All right." He tossed the towel onto the floor. A House Elf would pick it up later. "So I've got a question for you. You've been pulled into this mess, yet I don't see you getting cosy with Potter and his band yet. What's going on?"

"Oh, that's easy," Derek got up, sniffling again. "He wants me dead. I've got Quidditch tomorrow. I'm going to my dorm. See you, Malfoy."

Sirius stood in the shadows of the bleachers, listening as Lee Jordan announced the game. He kept his face covered with his hood. He would transform into a dog if anyone came close.

"Bell passes to Spinnet," Lee Jordan announced in his megaphone. "She's heading for the Hufflepuff goal..."

Sirius watched Machka approach him. She held up the parchment he had sent, giving him a wry smile. "Two o'clock, under the Gryffindor Bleachers. So cloak and dagger." She gave a dramatic shiver. "One might think being an Auror actually rubbed off on you."

"It did." Sirius held out his hand. "You said you got some information."

Machka nodded, handing over a parcel. "Not a lot. It's a vague references to a spell, Romany in origin. It was something Griendelwald hoped to use. I haven't found many details. It does involve Seers."

"Another goal to Gryffindor. The score is fifty-thirty."

Sirius looked over the information briefly, before tucking it in his robes. "You haven't been able to find any information on it? There's nothing in your journals?"

"That's the interesting thing. There are records missing. There's one person I can think of who might have them. She studied to be a Guardian-- the first Guardian after the Purge of Griendelwald." Machka crossed her arms over her chest. "But I don't know where she is."

"She's still alive, then?' Sirius looked up at Machka. "She's not with the clan anymore?"

"As far as I know, there's only one person who knows where she is. Her son." Machka ran her hands through her hair. "And Gazda won't tell me."

"Gazda..." Sirius furrowed his brow. He put a hand to his forehead. "It's been so long since I heard that name. That's..." He looked up. "Snape."

Sirius nodded. "I'll try talking to him. Don't worry about it. Thanks for this, Machka."

Machka looked up, through the tiny crack in the Gryffindor banner up at the sky. "So how are they doing?"

"Gryffindor is winning last I listened," Sirius glanced back. "I hope Ron is doing all right. I think he's a bit skittish about playing. You heard about what happened last time?"

"Potter spots the snitch. He and Kalderasha are in a race to capture it. Potter has a tremendous lead..."

Machka shook her head. "Derek said the game was rescheduled because a boy got hurt."

Sirius let out a barking laugh. "More than hurt. Ron was killed. Remus was able to revive him."

Machka's hand darted out, grabbing Sirius' arm. "Ron Weasley died? And was brought back?" Her eyes were wide. "This is the boy you say is having visions now?"

"Yeah. What's wrong."

Letting go of Sirius, Machka began to back up. "I have to go. I'll be in touch."

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