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Divinations Classroom
( September, 1993. )

      
                                     𝓜adam Pomfrey was swift and efficient as always, her movements precise as she examined Esme's hand. The bright flicker of the fluorescent light seemed to reflect off the shard of glass lodged in her palm. Esme winced as the nurse carefully examined it, her face furrowed in concentration.

"Hold still, dear," Madam Pomfrey instructed, already muttering a spell to clean the wound and disinfect it. The glass shard still lodged in her hand was beginning to cause Esme more discomfort, but she remained quiet, too focused on the image of the dog in her mind to acknowledge the pain.

Madam Pomfrey glanced up and scowled at Draco, who had been standing awkwardly at the side, hovering by the door. His face was pale, his hand pressed against his mouth as he tried to avoid looking at Esme's injury.

"Oh, don't you dare faint on my floor, boy," Madam Pomfrey scolded, her voice firm and filled with authority. "I'm not dealing with a concussion today. Go back to class, and take your mind off this."

Draco swallowed hard, looking utterly uncomfortable. He glanced between Esme and Madam Pomfrey, clearly torn between staying to make sure she was okay and his growing discomfort at the sight of the blood.

Seeing the nurse's determined look, Draco let out a quiet sigh. "Fine," he muttered, pushing off the doorframe and making his way toward the door.

"I'll be fine, Draco," Esme reassured, offering him a small smile, though she could see he still looked troubled. She could tell he didn't want to leave her, but he knew that there wasn't much he could do to help in this moment.

Draco hesitated for a moment longer, giving Esme a brief, worried glance before stepping out of the hospital wing, the door closing softly behind him.

As soon as the door shut, Madam Pomfrey began pulling the glass shard out of Esme's hand with delicate precision. Esme bit her lip, trying to ignore the sting, but the pain felt like a distant echo compared to the images still dancing in her mind.

"Nearly done, dear," Madam Pomfrey murmured, as the shard finally came free with a sharp tug. "You're lucky it didn't cause too much damage."

Esme nodded silently, her thoughts still swirling with the mysterious vision of the dog. She could barely focus on the bandages Madam Pomfrey muttered a spell to close the wound without stitches before wrapping her hand, her mind too preoccupied with the strange flash of images that still lingered in her mind.

But one thing was clear — whatever the vision meant, it wasn't a coincidence. And she would have to figure it out.

"I think I saw something in class," Esme said quietly, her voice trailing off as she stared at her bandaged hand. Her eyes flickered toward Madam Pomfrey, hoping for some kind of explanation.

Madam Pomfrey, who was preparing a fresh batch of potions nearby, turned her gaze to Esme, raising an eyebrow. "You're probably just lightheaded, dear. You just had a shard of glass go clean through your hand. It's only natural that you might be a bit disoriented." She shook her head with a gentle sigh, setting down the potion ingredients. "I want you to stay and rest for a while before returning to your classes."

Esme nodded slowly, though she wasn't fully convinced. She couldn't deny the intensity of the image she had seen—the dog, the barking. It felt real, like something pressing at the edge of her awareness. But what did it mean?

                                          𝓔sme slowly awoke, her mind groggy as she stirred beneath the soft covers. The dim light from the afternoon filtered through the windows, casting a serene glow over the hospital wing. She blinked, trying to shake off the haze of sleep, and that's when she heard it—the soft creak of the door opening.

She looked up in surprise, her heart momentarily skipping a beat when she saw Harry Potter standing in the doorway. His usual messy hair was slightly more disheveled than usual, and his expression held a blend of concern and hesitation.

"I just wanted to make sure you were okay," Harry said softly, his voice quieter than usual.

Esme blinked, a little caught off guard. She wasn't used to people checking on her—especially not in such a thoughtful way. But she wasn't sure how to respond, her mind still foggy from the dreamlike state she'd just awoken from. She settled on what she thought was the simplest answer.

"I'm alright. Thank you, Potter," she said, her words coming out almost robotic, a little stiff. Conversation had never come easily to her—especially when it was unexpected. She wasn't sure how to continue.

There was an awkward pause between them. Harry shifted his weight from foot to foot, his hands fidgeting nervously. It was clear he didn't quite know how to handle the situation either. "Can I stay for a while?" he asked hesitantly.

Esme studied him for a moment, her brows slightly furrowed. She wasn't used to the idea of someone wanting to sit with her, especially not Harry Potter of all people. But she didn't mind. Not really.

"Sure," she replied simply, her voice still soft but direct, as she motioned toward the empty chair by her bed. She figured there was no harm in letting him stay. Besides, she found his company... pleasant in a strange way.

Harry smiled nervously, his cheeks turning slightly pink as he took a tentative step forward, sitting down in the chair next to her bed. There was another awkward silence, though this one wasn't as uncomfortable as the first. Esme found herself more aware of the quiet, the soft rustle of the sheets beneath them, the faint sound of footsteps in the hall outside.

For a moment, she simply looked at him, not sure what to say next. Harry seemed just as unsure, his fingers tapping lightly on his knee.

"So..." he started, trailing off awkwardly. "You, uh... you did well with the tea leaves, I think. I mean, you... dropped the cup, but, uh, you definitely saw something, didn't you?"

Esme gave a small nod, but didn't immediately answer. She was still processing what had happened, the vision, the dog, the sharp jolt that had followed. She wasn't sure how much to say. She wasn't even sure if she could explain it.

"I think I did," she said slowly, her voice softer now. "But I... I don't really know what it means."

"Well," Harry spoke up, his tone probing but not impatient, "what did you see?"

Esme hesitated for a moment, her fingers absently tracing the edge of her bandaged hand as she thought about how to describe the vision she had. It still felt surreal. What was that strange image, and why had it felt so... intense?

"A dog," she said finally, her voice quiet but steady. "In the tea leaves. But then..." She trailed off, unsure how to explain the strange sensation she felt as the vision rushed through her mind. "I don't know. It sounds mad."

Harry, still watching her closely, gave her a small, encouraging smile. "Try me. I like mad," he said with a casual shrug, though his eyes held an earnest curiosity.

Esme's lips curved into a tiny, soft smile at his words. It was strange to see Harry Potter—of all people—so genuinely interested in what she had to say. She took a deep breath and then continued, her voice quiet and almost hesitant.

"I had a vision of a black dog," she said, her gaze now focused on the floor as the image resurfaced in her mind. "Barking. Growling."

Harry's heart skipped a beat at the mention of the black dog. His thoughts instantly flashed back to the strange creature he'd seen in his neighborhood—the one he couldn't forget. The dog he'd spotted just after leaving the Dursleys. His eyes widened, and he leaned forward, unable to hold back his curiosity.

"Was it a black? With matted fur and pointed ears?" he asked, his voice laced with an urgent, almost frantic tone.

Esme froze, her breath catching in her throat at his description. It was the same dog. The same dog that had appeared to her. Her wide, uncertain eyes locked onto his, her voice almost shaking as she asked, "Yes... yes it was. How did you know that?"

Before Harry could respond, the sound of the hospital wing door creaked open. Madam Pomfrey entered, looking stern as usual. "Mr. Potter," she said sharply. "Don't you have class?"

Harry quickly straightened up, clearly startled by her sudden appearance. "It's lunch, ma'am," he replied quickly, his cheeks tinged with a faint pink.

Madam Pomfrey raised an eyebrow but didn't argue. "Ah, well, Miss Lestrange, if you're feeling well, you can leave now. Come back in the morning so I can change your bandages." She gestured to the door, clearly ready to get back to her duties.

"Thank you, Madam," Esme said quietly, offering a small smile as she carefully stood from the bed.

As they walked out of the hospital wing together, Esme glanced at Harry. They walked side by side, but the silence felt comfortable. She wasn't sure what to say next. Her mind still felt a little cloudy, her thoughts bouncing between the vision and the oddness of the situation.

When they neared the entrance to the Great Hall, Esme hesitated before speaking. "When we get to the Great Hall, you should probably go in before I do. You don't want to be seen with me."

Harry furrowed his brows at the suggestion. "What makes you say that?"

Esme sighed softly, her voice blunt as she responded, not meaning to sound rude. "Harry, don't be daft."

Harry held back a snort of laughter, admiring her directness. "Fair enough," he muttered, amused by her straightforwardness.

She continued, unaware of how her words had struck him. "If Draco sees us talking, he'll make a spectacle of it."

Harry paused, his expression softening, but he didn't let go of his determination. "I've never really given a damn what Draco thinks. No offense," he added, his voice more serious than before.

Esme stopped walking for a brief moment, turning to look at him with genuine curiosity. "Why would I be offended?" she asked bluntly, her voice calm and almost puzzled. She wasn't offended, just perplexed by his concern. Social nuances had always been tricky for her to navigate.

Harry blinked, momentarily caught off guard by her response. There was something refreshingly candid about her, something he didn't expect. The boldness in her words only made him respect her more, though it also made him feel oddly self-conscious. He couldn't help but smile slightly, both in admiration and mild amusement.

"I guess you're right," he said, still smiling faintly, his eyes meeting hers for a moment before he stepped ahead, and slipped into the Great Hall.

Esme stood outside the Great Hall, her mind a whirl of thoughts, trying to piece together everything that had just happened. The vision, the conversation with Harry, and the strange, lingering feeling that she couldn't quite name. She didn't know why Harry had been so concerned, why he'd wanted to stay with her, or why he seemed so unfazed by the idea of being seen with her.

She blinked, shaking herself from her thoughts. She wasn't sure what any of it meant, or if it even mattered. All she knew was that things felt... different. Not bad, just different.