[The Three Broomsticks] Seeing is Believing [Dash]

Aside from brief visits to use the Floo network and the owl office on those occasions he wanted to have a conversation with the owner, this was Sam's first visit to Hogsmeade for almost six months. As he walked down the familiar street he was relieved to see that, almost a year after the Death Eaters' invasion of the castle, things were almost back to normal here. A few shops had changed hands or been entirely refitted (he tried not to think about why that might have been necessary) but overall it still felt like Hogsmeade, still had that same comfortable feeling that generations of witches and wizards had grown up with. Whatever the losses of the battle, this was one place that had recovered.

He felt a strange sense of anticipation though, because he was meeting up with his little cousin for the first time in - he couldn't remember how long. It must have been the previous summer, and before that - well, while the Carrows had been at Hogwarts he had been careful not to see any family members more than was absolutely necessary. Not that Dash really counted as close family; though he thought of her as a cousin, in reality they were second cousins, and given that she was almost fifteen years his junior they couldn't really claim to be close... apart from the one thing that had brought them together. She was a Seer, like he was, though in her case she had discovered at a rather younger age that she was different, or rather that the rest of the world wasn't the same as they were.

Dash was the only other Seer that Sam had ever encountered, unless one counted Sybil Trelawney... and given that her abilities seemed largely based on rumour rather than anything else, not to mention the fact that she was - well, rather odd; Sam wasn't entirely sure he could count her. Certainly he hoped that he was more approachable for those students who didn't show a natural aptitude for his subject; and that he had convinced at least some of them that anyone could learn to read the future if they just paid attention to the signs, rather than favouring those students who seemed to frequent his classroom the most frequently.

It was strange that he was thinking this at the moment he reached the Three Broomsticks and stepped inside, scanning the room to see if Dash was already there. That he was more... normal than his own divination professor had been. He walked over to the bar to order a drink, reached into the pocket of his turquoise blue robes and found a stray gecko in there. It was one of the female offspring of his original pair, Astrid and Marley; despite her gender he had named this one Houdini after a muggle who had been famous for getting locked in boxes and finding his way out of them. It was an apt name for the little creature that never seemed able to be kept in her cage for more than a day before she turned up someplace unexpected - in this case his pocket.

Lifting her out he held her up to his face in exasperation. The little thing was entirely unconcerned; she fitted in his hand nicely as she surveyed her new surroundings. He shook his head "You do realise you're not meant to be here, right?" he asked her, looking for all the world as if he expected a reply.

“Actually, I’m exactly where I’m supposed to be,” Dash’s eyes sparkled a little as she gave her older relative a somewhat hesitant smile along with her half-hearted joke. “Is that… a lizard?” The girl’s smile was vague, but her expression was pleasant. Despite the obvious factor that bonded them, Dash still wasn’t entirely comfortable with Sam. She hadn’t seen him for quite some time, after all, and it wasn’t as if they’d grown up together or anything like that. She still felt like he was more of a teacher than a cousin, and was a little anxious about overstepping the line and making him uncomfortable. "What's her name?" she asked, and then added, "or...  his name?" just in case. She watched his face carefully. Dash made intuitive judgements about everyone she met, and he didn’t seem like the type who would feel uneasy if his little second cousin treated him with familiarity, but a part of her was desperate to impress him, and she wouldn’t do anything that might jeopardise her relationship with him. He was important, and their similarity was something that she was unsure if she’d ever encounter again.

“I’m just over here,” she said, gesturing to a little table in the corner that had her jacket draped over it. The girl waited to follow him over to it, if that was where he was going. She wasn’t usually very dominant in social situations, and this one was no different. “I got a jug of water and a jug of butterbeer. I wasn’t sure what you’d like…” she trailed off for a moment, realising that he was probably at the bar because he was already ordering a drink. Damn! Maybe she should have ordered something more grown-up too, like a rum and coke or something. Dash didn’t really drink alcohol except when she was with her girlfriends, and that happened pretty rarely. She didn’t like the pace of the city. “…But how are you?” she added finally, giving him another small smile. The brunette crossed her ankles demurely, waiting for him to speak. “How’s school?” she asked.

Dash had been amazed when Sam had told her how old he was when he’d discovered that his gift wasn’t normal. The former hufflepuff couldn’t imagine what it would be like if her visions weren’t confined to her dreams. For Sam, she knew, it could happen at any given time. He could have a vision right at this moment. Her hazel eyes roamed his face rather intently for a second, as if he were about to start making prophecies right now, before her gaze dropped back to the table in front of her. She was awkward when it came to this kind of thing, but thought she might as well speak her mind.

“I’ve been dreaming… more often,” Dash murmured, her gentle voice becoming even softer as she brought it up. The girl leant forward in her chair slightly, as if they were sharing secrets. She supposed, in some ways, they were. A very small number of people knew about her gift, and even then, the brunette didn’t talk about it with them. Even Sindri, who she’d been living with for close on three years now, rarely got any kind of detail about the subject. He knew what was happening when she woke up in the middle of the night and left their bedroom for a while, but she always tended to withdraw after seeing things. And Sindri wasn’t the kind of guy to press an issue when it was obviously not one to be talked about easily. How could she explain any of it, anyway? Most of the time all she got clearly from a vision was a memorable texture that made her skin feel sensitive when she awoke, or a strong sense of sadness or some other emotion. Disjointed images, feelings, smells. Nothing easily explained.

Unfortunately, it wasn’t as easy as going to sleep and waking up with a clear idea of the future. Still, even though her visions had not really been all too clear lately, the girl thought she’d had more in the past few months than she had the entire year before that. Her life was settling down again, and settled life apparently meant more visions. Perhaps it was a stress-related thing? She knew she couldn’t focus on any areas of divination when she was particularly stressed or anxious.

Sam spun around in surprise, the gecko balancing itself comfortably on his hand as he moved, it's stubby tongue flicking out as if it expected there to be a juicy insect waiting. "Yeah, I was talking to the...oh!" he began, and then laughed as he realised he didn't actually need to explain anything. "Hi, Dash. Yes, she's a common barking gecko, her name's Houdini, and she was supposed to be in her cage. Except she evidently had other ideas..." he said, holding the small lizard up for a mock-scolding before slipping her back into his pocket. Then he followed his cousin's directions over to the table in the one corner he hadn't checked before heading over to the bar, oblivious to her concerns. In the contrary, he liked butterbeer, and preferred not to drink alcohol in Hogsmeade anyway just in case any of the students saw him. Of course there were exceptions, like Christmas or the end of term, when he was happy to relax a bit more and be seen with a glass of wine or beer in his hand, but for the most part, soft drinks were fine. He picked up the butterbeer jug, asking which she preferred for herself before filling his own glass, then sat down in the seat opposite.

"I'm...fine" he said, with just the slightest hesitation. There was no point telling her about the illness following the ball, or the time he'd missed from teaching as a result; she already knew he hadn't been well, but now he was healthy again it seemed selfish to bore her with the details. Particularly when there were more cheerful things to discuss. "The school's fine, too; pretty much back to normal after... well, you know." He didn't like to talk about the battle, particularly not the people they'd lost that night, and while a lot of people were still missing loved ones, life had to go on. "We're restarting Quidditch matches this week as well" he added as an afterthought "Slytherin versus Ravenclaw... or was it Hufflepuff - Gryffindor?" he grinned "One or the other, anyway." Sam had his own thoughts of who he would prefer to win in both cases, one of which was less obvious than the other.

He took a sip of his butterbeer and then leaned in closer to listen. It felt strange, after so many years of first believing he was perfectly normal and then discovering that his talent was very unusual indeed, to be discussing it in such a public place, even though the pub was quiet. He almost expected someone to leap out and denounce him - them - as weird, or worse still, demand that he have a vision on the spot about something they desperately wanted to know. He nodded, encouraging her to continue. The vast majority of Sam's visions came while he was awake, and he wasn't sure which was the more convenient. At least he didn't wake up with a sense of confusion without knowing if it came from a prophetic dream or one that was simply caused by eating cheese at bedtime, though there was always the fear that he would See something in the middle of a lesson. It had happened before, after all...

"Have you seen anything in particular?" he asked quietly, already expecting the answer was going to be No... just disjointed pictures, sounds and smells... It was hard to know what to say. He was supposed to be the experienced one, offering help and guidance, and yet he felt as though he was flailing for the right answers. Half the time they just discovered things in common, though in this case it wasn't the case. "My visions have slowed in the last few months" he admitted, though he didn't know why. It could be to do with the illness, or just as well because life was more settled now that he didn't fear for his life or that of his students. Had he known that his thoughts were almost the opposite to Dash, he might have laughed. They were still trying to figure out what they were. Maybe one day they should write a book, he thought with a grin.

“Houdini?” she repeated. “The muggle?” Dash didn’t know much about Houdini, but there was a vague memory of a history of magic class from years ago that stirred at the name. The class had been about muggle magicians, as far as she could remember. The girl sat still and listened to him intently, even though it was mostly small talk. She didn’t question his hesitation when he told her he was fine, though she was very intuitive and picked up on it instantly. It was none of her business, if he wasn’t inclined to share. “Of course.” She nodded gently. Dash had been at the rebuilding for the school. She’d seen the destruction.

She smiled faintly at the mention of quidditch. “Ooh, go the ‘puffs!”. Dash had never played herself, or been interested in quidditch, really, but the girl had enough fondness for her old house that she’d like to see them win. Hufflepuff-patriotism had never been high on her list of important things, though the mention of quidditch matches did come with a little splash of nostalgia. Sindri’s family seemed to be obsessed with it, though he had never played himself. The brunette accepted a mug of butterbeer and thanked her older relative. If she was honest, she was completely grateful that he had even agreed to see her when she’d first contacted him two years ago. When she was younger her parents had treated the sensitive girl’s visions as ‘nightmares’, believing that waking up in the night experiencing all kinds of sensory sensitivity and in odd emotional states. She’d believed it too, for a while. But the girl came to the truth slowly, and on her own. It seemed inherent to her that this was a private thing, but while she was as comfortable with it as possibly could be, she still wanted to know more.

Sam leant in as she spoke. It was natural. The girl wanted to go into great detail about everything she’d ever Seen, and ask him questions about his visions until he wouldn’t answer her any more, but she was terrified of scaring him away (or even just annoying him). Besides, they were in the wrong place for that kind of intense discussion. For now, it was just basics. It felt so unnatural to be opening up about these things, but she wanted it terribly. Dash clasped her hands in front of her on the table, watching him closely as she continued. “One,” she said softly, nodding, “One clear one of my parents. Nothing, you know, world-changing.” Dash’s hazel gaze fell back down to the table. Of course, her parents selling the family home wasn’t exactly a small deal, either. Her brother had flipped out when he’d been told. Dash wondered if it could be possible that they were finally divorcing each other, despite their claims that they simply wanted to live closer to the city. “Most of the time it’s feelings mixed in with tastes or textures… the feeling of sand under my fingers, veins in a leaf, the smell of wood, or cinnamon…” the girl trailed off. He gets the point, she told herself, annoyed.

“Do you feel…” Dash looked back up at the man in front of her, pausing for a moment to chew her lip thoughtfully. She blinked. “What’s it like when you wake… I mean, afterwards? For you?” She was hesitant to ask this because sharing those first few moments with anyone was hard for her. When she woke up in the middle of the night, Sindri usually slept through it. But if he did wake up, he knew to just let her go. It was difficult to explain and different, though disorienting, every time. “There are always textures,” she added, pressing her fingers against the wooden table in front of her and tracing heavy circles absentmindedly, “And when I wake up, my skin is always…” she shrugged, “…sensitive.” All of her was sensitive when she woke up. Sensory overload. Not to mention the emotional side of it, sometimes. It was disorienting, and after a particularly clear dream it could take her a minute to properly adjust to her surroundings.

Her second cousin started talking about his visions, and she wasn’t focused on anything except what he was saying. “Really?” she asked, instantly interested. The girl leaned forward keenly. “Do you know why?” She’d never felt a pattern with it, but she was only twenty-one and her visions just seemed to come and go as they pleased. She seemed to have forgotten that Sam wasn’t actually that much older than her. She was rather invested in the idea that he knew just what was going on.

Nodding at the mention of the original Houdini, Sam took a long drink of his butterbeer. He remembered his grandmother telling him about the muggle when he had been just a small boy - the grandmother in question had been a muggle herself and he'd always found her stories of that world fascinating - and was amused that Dash had heard of him as well. Maybe she'd even heard the same story; given that they were related. He didn't bother to ask, though. It wasn't important, and he wanted to talk about - well, their shared abilities. After they'd dissected the various teams Quidditch chances, of course.

"Naah... it's definitely Ravenclaws' year" he objected with a grin "though given that I'm the Head of House, I have to say that, don't I..?" He winked. Both Sam's elder sisters had been Hufflepuffs and he had desperately wanted to be sorted into that house, actually feeling disappointed for several days as a first year when he had ended up elsewhere. That had been before he had made friends of course, and long before he discovered he was different from them. Ravenclaw, the house most likely to accept a student who simply sat staring into space with a book in their lap, had let Sam be himself. How many times had he experienced a vision sitting in the common room whilst shuffling a deck of cards, and simply not mentioned it because he thought it was normal?

It seemed that their visions worked slightly differently, though. For Sam, he often got a vague feeling of where he was that was more prominent than the tiny details. But the one thing it seemed they had in common was the aftermath. For her, apparently it was heightened sensitivity, For him...

"I experience the prevailing emotion of what I've just witnessed" he admitted, feeling uncomfortable. This was something Sam had never spoken of to anyone, something he didn't much like even to think about. "It's fine when I See something nice, like... oh somebody receiving a letter, or just being on holiday and walking on a beach. But if..." he trailed off, his eyes fixing on the middle distance for a few seconds as he drew a steadying breath "...if it's something bad, and I see someone who's scared, or upset or... or being hurt, then I share their emotions. Do you understand what I mean..?" He was quiet for a minute then, recalling an incident when he'd witnessed a Death Eater torturing a woman in her shop. He'd felt her terror, experienced her despair - and utterly failed to prevent it from happening, even though he'd tried. That was something he didn't want to talk about. He reached for the glass again, took another long swig, almost wishing it was something alcoholic.

Sam was glad for another train of thought. "I don't know for sure, but it seems to me - I only See intense moments for the most part. Ones with strong emotions... I wish it was otherwise, but I rarely See someone just cooking dinner or reading a book" The thought occurred that maybe he did, that the times he found himself daydreaming were actually lesser, more innocuous visions, but he pushed that thought aside. That way might lie madness if he stopped being able to tell reality from visions. "So I wonder if maybe, now the war's over, people are just...more settled?" he suggested. It sounded lame even as he said it, and he shrugged apologetically.

"Ravenclaw would have been my next house of choice," she answered in an off-hand way, smiling a little. There was no way Dash was a Gryffindor or a Slytherin. Hufflepuff had made sense, since she wasn't particularly bookish either. The girl shrugged. 

“Right,” she said quietly, nodding, when he mentioned the emotional side of things. The man went into a little more detail, and Dash had to work to hide her fascination. The way he described it was just so… acute. She felt like he was taking words straight out of her head and relaying them back verbally. It was amazing. The brunette nodded, her hazel eyes snapping up to watch him intently. Yes, she knew what he meant. The girl didn’t want to interrupt him, and she didn’t want to seem scarily enthusiastic. It was hard, though. The hufflepuff alumni silently urged the Professor to continue, and waited to see if he’d do so, but he didn’t. Sam reached for his drink, and Dash watched him thoughtfully. She was very still for a moment, absorbing his words. “Other people don’t understand,” she said finally, in tones so gentle that she could barely hear herself over the bustle of the pub.

She hadn’t meant it to sound so serious, but when the words left her lips they took on a weight that she hadn’t predicted. The girl’s gaze dropped to the table in front of her. It was true. Other people didn’t understand. The closest thing to understanding she had in her relationship of six years was her boyfriend leaving her alone when she woke up in the middle of the night. That wasn’t understanding at all really. More like tolerance. Dash was ever grateful to Sindri, but no one who hadn’t experienced it could really understand. The girl reached for her own drink to have something to do with her hands as he started talking again. She sipped it lightly, and dabbed at the corner of her mouth politely afterward.

“It gets confusing,” she said, frowning a little. She shifted in her seat, caught between desperately searching for some kind of validation and a long avoidance of mentioning any of this out loud. It was an uncomfortable feeling. “Sometimes I wake up with something… say… sadness, that makes me sick to my stomach,” the girl couldn’t look at him, and was finding it hard not to be distracted by the fact that her heart rate had increased. She stared at her upturned palms instead, willing her heartbeat to slow down. “And a mix of things. Colours. Shapes. Textures. And it just makes everything else feel so… wrong.” She wanted to say that it was hard, when she first woke up, to tell what was real. It was a split second (or more, for rarer, more intense visions) of deep confusion. She didn’t know how to word it without sounding crazy though, even though he probably knew exactly what she was talking about.

“That makes sense,” she agreed, still frowning a little as she decided to pour herself another glass of butterbeer. She was a little unsteady. The brunette’s pretty face showed an expression of thoughtfulness. She was over thinking everything. If he only ever saw intense emotional moments, it could make sense that his visions had slowed. Then again, how far into the future could he see? She’d never been able to tell, since she hadn’t really had many full-blown visions of things she’d experienced ages later. Dash realised with a little disappointment that their Sight didn’t work in the exact same way. She was too hopeful, she mused. The girl was completely immersed in her thoughts and their conversation, and paid no attention to the rest of the world at the moment. “When I dream–“ There was a loud laugh as a couple of people bumped by their table. Dash jumped like she’d been shocked, dropping the jug of butterbeer in her surprise. It splashed all over Sam.

“Oh my gosh, I’m so sorry!” The girl’s panicked eyes were wide as she jumped to her feet. Dash picked up the jug and placed it upright on the table. “I’m sorry, I’m just so clumsy…” she wasn’t clumsy at all, really. Not usually. The girl felt sick, like someone had just walked in on her gossiping about him or her. “I’m not used to talking about it,” she pleaded quietly. “Should I… napkins?” Dash wasn’t sure if she should pull out her wand or whether he’d prefer to do it himself. The girl was horrified at herself. So much for making good impressions.

Sam was beginning to think this hadn't been such a good idea. Not the meeting with Dash, he was glad to see her and quite fond of his younger cousin. What concerned him a little was the fact they were meeting in such a public place to discuss something that he would prefer not to be overheard. He hadn't thought of it before, and there wasn't really anywhere else that they could be sure they wouldn't be overheard. There was always the option of casting the muffliato charm, but the pub wasn't really crowded enough for that. It would be effective, but people would wonder why there seemed to be a silent conversation at that table and then human nature would surely dictate that others would be curious or even wonder if something dodgy was being discussed. No, it made more sense to keep their voices down, and perhaps another time he could suggest they go to his father's shop and talk more freely in the back room.

"I understand" he said, when she spoke of her confusion. Sam had grown up with his visions and the strangeness of their aftermath; where another child might have had nightmares that could be comforted, what he had Seen had felt somehow different and more lasting because they generally occurred when he was awake. It must have been even more confusing to have something that could be dismissed as particularly vivid dreams. "Sometimes, I have to... do something, ground myself somehow, so I know that I'm really back within myself." He shrugged. It sounded weird and was something he would think twice before saying to anyone else, even Iuliana. She knew he had visions but had yet to actually witness one, though he knew that when the time came they would deal with it, just as they had dealt with everything else that had been thrown their way in the last year.

He took another drink, almost draining his glass, at the same time that Dash began to pour herself a fresh glass. He wanted to hear more about how her Sight worked. His was invariably triggered by use of one or other of his divination tools - or, at it's strongest, simply by pouring fresh tea - but unless she slept with a deck of cards in her hand, there had to be something else that caused her to See. Was there even a trigger in the girl's case or were her visions entirely random? Sam wondered if she even knew and was about to ask when he was shocked out of his thoughts by raucous laughter, a jolt to the table... and a decidedly damp, sticky feeling.

"It's fine, don't worry!" he reassured her automatically, even as he stood up and discovered that the pattern of butterbeer made it look precisely like he had failed to make it to the bathroom in time. Before he could do anything about it there was a frantic wriggling in his pocket and he made a grab for Houdini before she escaped once again. Evidently the little thing had been startled by the movement - not to mention the fact she was now rather damp as well. Of course, now he had a lizard in one hand that made using a drying spell somewhat more awkward; and Sam's magical abilities had taken a nosedive following the sickness of the Victory ball. It was a simple enough charm, but he would rather not attempt it in public and discover that instead of drying his robes he managed to vanish them altogether - particularly given that he was wearing very little - in fact, absolutely nothing - underneath them.

"Sure, napkins would work, or... a charm" he suggested hopefully, not wanting to ask and make it obvious that he needed to rely on someone else. "And then - did you feel like taking a walk? It's not a bad day and if we go outside the village we're less likely to be overheard." He grinned, knowing he must look thoroughly ridiculous with the butterbeer all down himself and a gecko in one hand.

Sam started talking about grounding himself, and Dash nodded eagerly. She didn’t want to come off as overeager, but talking about this was a new thing for the girl. She yearned for the sense of belonging that he was giving her, whether he realised he was offering it or not. A part of her was eager to launch into details about the little that she knew about her sight, but she was still so anxious about not seeming overbearing that she kept most of her thoughts to herself. The idea of doing something to ground himself was intriguing though, because she did it tot.

“I like working with clay,” the brunette told him quietly, leaning in again as she spoke. Her gaze fell to her hands folded demurely on the wooden table. “My skin…” She paused and took a deep breath. Dash hadn’t meant to hesitate – she didn’t want him to feel like she was uncomfortable around him, after all, even if she was – but it was just strange actually vocalising all of this. She gave him a quick apologetic smile and continued, “…is always super sensitive, like I said, and when I wake up in the sheets… sometimes they feel like they’re covered in little hooks. Rough. I’m usually kind of… wired, and doing things with my hands calms me down.”

The brunette felt her heart drop somewhere into the pit of her stomach as she spilt the jug of butterbeer all over her older relative. Her eyes were wide. He suggested that she use a charm, and she mentally chided herself for not choosing to do that straight away. “Oh, of course, I’m so sorry.” Dash fumbled with her wand – his hands were full – and performed a drying spell, blushing as she waved her wand in the direction of his crotch. It was just a little awkward, but the girl was more mortified at the fact that she’d embarrassed herself by being clumsy. He was smiling, and Dash offered a tentative smile in return, but she was almost certain that she’d blown it. Damn. “I… that’s a great idea.” The brunette agreed readily. She ducked her head and followed him out, internally ashamed about her awkwardness. Usually Arden Dasher was a quiet, thoughtful girl who didn’t have trouble interacting with others. She wasn’t socially awkward. Usually.

Once outside, Dash felt a little more comfortable immediately. The crowded pub hadn’t been a good idea, for a meeting like that. Then again, neither of them could have predicted that things would get so intense so quickly. Or maybe we could have, she joked internally. The girl folded her slim arms over her chest, wincing at her terrible joke. She let Sam lead the way and spoke quite quietly. It seemed that her curiosity and need for more information outweighed her resistance to speaking about things she’d never spoken about before. It felt unnatural, but it was necessary. “Our gifts are very different,” she observed, a little disappointed. She was hesitant as she continued, “the mechanics are different. Do you use… triggers?”

He was already trying to stuff an unwilling Houdini back into his pocket in order to reach for a napkin when Dash pointed her wand and his trousers felt distinctly dryer. Sam smiled gratefully; gave up trying to pocket the lizard and led the way out of the pub. It was cooler outside; though the Sun was shining and it was a fairly bright day. Plus there was the added bonus that they could talk without being overheard. Probably nobody else would be interested; but it was rather like the thought of someone reading your diary - no matter how innocent the subject, it was still awkward.

Sam was glad for the first time that his gift manifested in the way that it did. He had actually shuddered a little at the thought of physical sensitivity upon waking; it would surely feel like the continuation of a nightmare. "The skin thing sounds...uncomfortable" he admitted, not wanting to make the young woman feel more unusual that she already did "I get headaches afterwards. I think I always have; apparently when I was a kid my mother would find me staring into space and then I'd complain that my head hurt and ask her about something she didn't understand. She just thought I was daydreaming or imagining things, but..." he shrugged, feeling as if he'd said too much. They were in the street now though; and it did feel good to be able to discuss it with someone.

Houdini was starting to wriggle in the colder air, so he put her back into his pocket, hoping she was going to stay put this time. With any luck, the warmer temperature there would act as an incentive for the gecko to behave herself. Belatedly, he realised there was something else he hadn't mentioned. How erratic his magic was following a vision. But then, if he mentioned that, the subject might get onto wand magic in general, and it wasn't common knowledge that one of the side effects of the virus following the Hogwarts ball had been a temporary loss of magical ability. For all Sam knew, he could have been the only one affected. It wasn't something that was talked about.

Somehow he felt guilty at her next observation, as if he were somehow letting his cousin down. She needed advice, and there wasn't much he could offer. Triggers. "Yes. I can try and trigger a vision using some of my tools, but they come on their own as well. I can just be handling a pack of cards, and... bam!" He shook his head, not wanting to remember some of the things he'd Seen during the war, or the regularity with which the visions had come. "Is that something you can do? Or does it work differently with dreams?"

 “Yeah,” she agreed vaguely when he commented on her post-vision skin sensitivity. It was uncomfortable. The girl didn’t want to add that bright light and loud music were exactly the same. Sensory overload. Briefly, she wondered what it would be like to eat something really spicy or sour afterward… Listening thoughtfully to what he said next, Dash realised that she was able to sympathise in the strangest way. “My parents thought I had night terrors,” she said, remembering how uncomfortable it had been when they’d tried to comfort her after waking. There had been a period of her very early childhood when she’d had little vision murmurs quite often. “They took me to a healer and I was on sleeping potions for a short while.”

They’d realised it was a bad idea when the “nightmares” didn’t stop. When she god older, though, they slowed. She also grew more used to keeping herself quiet when she woke up. Dash couldn’t remember exactly when she’d known what the dreams were, but she remembered her mother’s dubious expression when she’d tried to explain. They didn’t talk about it now, and Dash wasn’t entirely sure the woman believed her.

The girl let him take the lead. It had been a couple of years since she’d been to Hogsmeade. “Really?” she asked, her hazel eyes widening slightly in fascination. The girl glanced at him, making sure that she’d heard him correctly. “Wow,” she breathed, turning back ahead, wondering what it would be like to actually have some semblance of control over her gift. She shook her head, feeling the sense of disappointment rising. What exactly she’d been hoping to find, the girl had no idea. There were parts of this – talking about the secrecy, the sense of isolation, the workings of it all – that resonated with the brunette, but there was also something missing. She felt strangely sentimental, like she’d simultaneously found someone who would understand her in a way that no one else could, but that she’d discovered the limited range of that understanding already.

“I’ve never tried it,” she said, giving a soft shrug of her slender shoulders. She couldn’t imagine trying to fall asleep with a crystal ball or something similarly ridiculous. Maybe there was a way to access it through some kind of deep meditation? Dash wasn’t sure. Would it really be something that she wanted to pursue, though? The thought made her hesitate. “Ever since I was littler than I remember it has just… happened. I haven’t found a way to trigger anything.” She gave a small sigh, her gaze dropping to the ground momentarily as she walked.

After a moment of listening to their out of sync footsteps, Dash decided to go ahead and ask the question she’d been mulling over the whole time they’d been talking. The brunette wasn’t sure how to approach it, so her words were gentle and hesitant as she began speaking. “Samuel… Do you think that we could try to do something… together?” Her steps slowed to a stop and she waited for him to turn around. The girl’s lips were pressed tightly together, it was the only thing that betrayed her anxiety with asking the question. Did he even understand what she was asking? She was so nervous he was going to reject her proposal.

Maybe he'd been insensitive, implying that he had control over his abilities. It wasn't really anything as definite as that, though on the other hand, it was probably for the best that she thought it was. He could trigger visions by using divination tools, but it wasn't really a conscious decision. Sam was thankful for the gust of wind that blew at that moment because he shuddered, remembering the time when he'd been almost too afraid to pick up a teapot or deck of cards in case it triggered something he didn't want to know about. he'd never actually seen anyone die but...it had come pretty close while You-know-who was at the height of his powers. No, it was better that Dash didn't know about that side of things.

Instead he said "Well, I guess it's different for you. I wouldn't know how to trigger a prophetic dream...not really. Though don't go telling any of my students that!" There was a whole section in the divination OWL devoted to dream interpretation, but it didn't expect students to actually dream every night, simply to know how to understand their dreams when they did have them. He grinned, to show that it really didn't matter whether she could control it or otherwise, that he wouldn't judge her. It was nice just to talk to someone who understood. He hoped they could make this a regular thing, just to meet up and talk about their respective abilities, when Dash voiced what he was thinking and then took it a step further.

Something together? That wasn't something Sam had ever considered, and he wasn't sure how it might work. Perhaps if two people had the same ability they might be able to trigger visions by using the same crystal ball or something, but how they might try and See together had him stumped. He was about to ask her how she thought it might work when he realised he was walking alone. Confused, Sam stopped dead and turned, suddenly afraid that the girl had stumbled or was otherwise in trouble and he hadn't noticed. Some older cousin he was, supposed to to keep an eye on his younger relatives - never mind that Dash was all grown up now. But she had merely stopped, and was looking at him.

There was something in that look though, something in the set of her lips or maybe the look in her eyes that made him rethink his confusion. Sam suspected that Dash didn't really know how to go about what she was asking either. Was she just asking for reassurance, wanting to know that she wasn't alone? Either way, Sam knew he wasn't going to say anything that might make her feel uneasy. "I don't know if there's a way to trigger visions between more than one person - but I'd like to give it a try sometime" he said, trying to sound encouraging and hoping it wasn't immediately obvious that even he no longer had any idea what he was talking about. "We should definitely do that somewhere private, though" he said, teasing a little now, though it was a little unnerving for him to think of.

Having visions in front of other people was something he always struggled with. Probably with Dash it would be different, but the times it had happened when in the presence of someone who thought divination was nothing but smoke and mirrors was always difficult. The worst was... and then suddenly he knew how to lighten the mood.

"You know the worst vision I ever had?" he asked, meaning this on more than one level "I was pouring tea for Professor McGonagall, and I Saw right in front of her. The poor woman thought I was having a fit or something, she was white as a sheet when I came back to myself!" he laughed, the memory of her reaction finally overriding the horror he'd Seen that day "All these years she'd been convinced it was a worthless subject, and in the space of ten minutes I proved to her it was real!" It hadn't really been funny, but when he thought of it now, it was a good story to tell. "So what about you? Any embarrassing stories to tell?"

[OOC: Dunno if you ever saw the thread with Minerva but it really happened. Inga wrote her reactions brilliantly xD]