That one lunchtime seemed to have sparked a trend. Now it wasn't uncommon to go into the Great Hall and lose yourself in a group of mixed-colour robes. Of course, it didn't all change overnight — there were still large clusters of same-colour robes crowded together, looking quite disturbed by all the intermingling. But it was a start. Watching Dumbledore grit his teeth and pretend to be delighted about the development was becoming the highlight of Harry's week.
So of course, something had to bring him down.
"The Yule Ball is a tradition of the Triwizard Tournament," Professor McGonagall declared at the end of their Transfiguration lesson on Thursday, interrupting Harry's rather diligent clock-watching. The sooner she let them go, the sooner he could have a nap before dinner, because after dinner he'd be meeting with the heirs for study group. A study group that would no doubt turn into laughing about Dumbledore's anger and plotting the next step in their slow and careful uniting of the Hogwarts houses.
Well, that explained the dress robes, at any rate. The reactions of the class were a mixture from excited to downright horrified — Harry didn't think it would be so bad, really. It might actually be sort of fun. He'd never been to any sort of formal party before; or, really, any kind of party full stop. There had been one school dance in his last year of muggle primary school, but the Dursleys hadn't let him go. They ended up having to go pick up Dudley early after he pushed a boy into the snack table.
"Potter, a word, please," McGonagall called once she finally released the class, and Harry resisted the urge to swear. He was so tired. Between trying to figure out the egg, meeting with Draco, studying with the heirs and keeping up with his Arithmancy and Runes for Sirius and Remus, he wasn't getting nearly as much sleep as he probably should.
"If this is about the essay, I know I went off-topic, but I got a bit distracted," Harry started, sure that McGonagall was entirely unimpressed with the eight inch long tangent about the difference between transfigured material and conjured material — in an essay supposed to be about the practical uses of Switching spells. Harry hadn't meant to, but he'd found it fascinating, and the words just sort of spilled out. He couldn't even blame it on spending too much time with Remus in the summer; he'd been turning into a bookworm ever since the Compulsion charm had been removed.
"Potter, your grades are better than they've been in your entire school career, and that 'off-topic' section, as you put it, wouldn't have been out of place in one of my sixth year essays," McGonagall told him, the barest twitch at the corner of her lips letting him know she was pleased. Harry preened. "No, this is about the Yule Ball. The champions and their partners are expected to open the dance. I thought you'd appreciate the warning."
Harry's stomach sank as her words became clear. "I have to learn to dance?" he squeaked. "I have to find someone willing to dance? With me? In front of everyone?"
McGonagall's lips twitched further, her amusement barely showing. "Yes, Mr Potter, I'm afraid you do. I'm sure one of your friends will be able to help you; most purebloods take dancing lessons prior to Hogwarts."
For a second, Harry thought she was talking about the other heirs, and his heart stopped when he tried to figure out how she'd found out about it all. Then he realised she was probably just talking about Neville or Parvati or someone. There was no way she was talking about the Weasleys.
"Can't I just face another dragon instead?" he asked meekly. McGonagall's fingers clenched for a second around her wand, like she was resisting the urge to put her face in her hands. It was an expression Harry was pretty familiar with from his housemistress after three and a half years.
"Sadly not, Mr Potter. I'm sure you'll pick it up as quickly as you've been picking up spells lately. I must say, I'm impressed. You get more and more like your mother every year." That made Harry beam, chest fluttering with warmth.
"Thanks, Professor." He flashed her a quick grin, turning away once it was clear he'd been dismissed. He paused in the doorway, glancing back. "Professor?" She looked up. "Does my dance partner have to be from Gryffindor?"
"Of course not! The whole point of the ball is to socialise with our international guests and extend the hand of friendship; that includes the four houses as well. Your partner may be whomever you choose, as long as they are a student at one of the three attending schools."
"And here I was hoping Professor Snape would go with me," Harry mock-sighed, smirking when the Transfiguration professor almost lost her composure for a second. "See you, Professor!" He left the classroom, heading towards Gryffindor Tower and the siren call of his bed.
He had a little under three weeks to find a partner, and learn how to dance well enough to avoid embarrassing them both in front of everyone at the ball.
He would definitely prefer to face the dragon again.
.-.-.
Apparently, finding a partner wasn't going to be a problem for Harry. Not if he cared whether he actually knew the girl or not. Within the first twelve hours of news about the ball filtering through the school, he was asked out by no less than five girls he had never spoken to in his life. He was even asked by a second year Hufflepuff, who stuttered so much she could barely get the words out.
Neville found the whole thing hilarious, because he was the worst friend ever. "Just pick someone and ask them," he said, as if it was that simple.
"Alright, who are you asking, then?" Neville went beet red.
"I haven't decided yet."
Harry stuck his tongue out, and Neville rolled his eyes. "It doesn't matter whether I go with anyone or not. I'm not a school champion." That deflated Harry's smug balloon, and he scowled again, sitting down at the Gryffindor table for breakfast.
An owl dropped a rolled-up copy of the Daily Prophet in front of Neville, and the glimpse Harry got of the headline made him groan.
'Explosive Classes at Hogwarts
With all eyes on Hogwarts during the Triwizard Tournament, I, Rita Skeeter, decided to investigate a little of the school's day-to-day life, and you can imagine my surprise when I discovered the creatures our dear champion, Harry Potter, was forced to interact with as part of his Care of Magical Creatures lesson. No wonder the dragon was such a doddle, if this is what he's facing in class! I ask you, reader, which creature is more dangerous; the fire-breathing, biting, bang-ended scoot, or the teacher himself, Mr Rubeus Hagrid?'
The whole article went on to talk about how Hagrid was constantly endangering his students with his reckless classes, including a quote from Pansy Parkinson about how Draco had been mauled by a hippogriff the year before, and another from Crabbe about being bitten by a flobberworm. Like with the last article, it was incredibly Harry-centric, though it didn't have a single quote from him. Skeeter was clearly looking for loopholes.
"Flobberworms don't even have teeth!" Harry exclaimed, tossing the paper angrily down on the table, almost knocking over a milk jug. "This is such bullshit, how can she possibly be allowed to publish this and call it journalism?"
"There aren't many laws about what can and can't go to print," Neville told him. "The Wizengamot were meaning to get around to it back at the turn of the century, but then Grindelwald happened, and…" The wizarding world had essentially been on pause for the last century, with Albus Dumbledore sticking his fingers in everything and refusing to allow real progress. "It didn't used to be that bad, but in the last couple of decades the standards have really slipped, once people realised they could get away with publishing fiction if there was a tiny scrap of fact behind it."
"All the same, this can't be legal." Harry looked up at the head table; Hagrid hadn't come to breakfast. Guilt squirmed in Harry's stomach as he remembered his last argument with Hermione. Several seats down, she was glaring at him pointedly, Prophet in hand. This wasn't really his fault, but he still felt responsible. There had to be something he could do about it.
He scanned the hall, catching sight of a curly red ponytail just on its way out the door. Muttering an excuse to Neville, he jumped up and hurried out, calling Susan's name. She turned, both her and Ernie stopping with curious looks on their faces. "Harry? What's the matter?"
"Would your aunt mind if I wrote to her again? About Rita Skeeter?" he asked. "I don't know if you saw the article about Hagrid, but it's ridiculous, and there's got to be something I can do about it legally. Or someone could do."
"Aunt Amelia would love to hear from you, Harry, but I don't know if she can be of any help. Trust me, if there was a way to get Skeeter arrested, she would've done it by now," Susan added with a sour look. "The worst the DMLE can do is slap her with a few fines, and the Prophet is happy to pay those; she brings in way too much money for them slinging her muck about." She paused thoughtfully. "What about that lawyer you got in touch with? Maybe she'll have an idea?"
"I can ask." Harry hadn't spoken much to his lawyer, but Evelyn Frobisher seemed to be one of the best. Harry expected as much, if she came on the recommendation of the head of the DMLE herself. "But I can't exactly have her banned from talking to everyone. Especially not the people who can consent for themselves." If only Hagrid had turned around and told her no comment. Then again, she probably would've written that crap regardless.
"Maybe we can get her banned from the grounds except on tournament days," Susan said slowly. "On the claim of disrupting our learning. If Skeeter's allowed to just wander around and interrupt classes for interviews, what's to stop other random adults coming in and doing it?"
Harry grinned; he could put up with Skeeter on tournament days if it meant being rid of her the rest of the time. "That could work! I'll write to Mrs Frobisher and ask. Thanks, Susan." He was about to turn away, when suddenly a thought occurred to him. "Hey, Susan? Are you going to the ball with anyone?"
She blinked at him, eyebrows rising. "Not yet. Why do you ask?"
"Would you want to maybe go with me? As friends," he clarified quickly, feeling his cheeks grow hot. "I have to have a partner to open the ball, and I thought it'd be good to go with someone from a different house. If you'd rather not, I completely understand," he added. "That sort of attention isn't for everyone. But… it could be fun." He wasn't quite bold enough to go with a boy — especially one that wasn't Draco. But going with a Hufflepuff, he could do.
Susan eyed him contemplatively. At her side, Ernie was grinning. "I'll warn you, I've never danced a step in my life," Harry added, wondering if that was a dealbreaker. "But I'm willing to learn."
"I don't have time to teach you, but if you promise to get good enough not to embarrass yourself, I'll go with you," she agreed, folding her arms over her chest. "Even if you're terrible, it'll still be good for my image to be seen with you. And for our little house unity side-project," she added with a grin.
"Your image?" Harry repeated, baffled. She nodded.
"If I want to be Chief Warlock of the Wizengamot by the time I'm thirty, I have to start somewhere, don't I? I'm a Hufflepuff; we don't make waves. Being Harry Potter's date to the Yule Ball will make me memorable." She spoke as if it was obvious, and Harry merely nodded, mildly terrified of the determination in her tone. "What colour are your dress robes?"
"Green, with gold detail," Harry answered. Susan smiled.
"Good, I look great in gold."
"Sooz, we've got to get to Defence," Ernie nudged, gesturing at his watch. Harry realised he was probably going to be late for Potions. Oh well, Snape hadn't had the chance to take points off him in a while. Maybe he could even wing his way into a detention; Remus was coming to visit in a couple of days.
"Let me know if you don't find anyone to teach you to dance, Harry," Susan said. "I'll ask around."
"Will do, but I think I have someone in mind," he assured her. Draco would definitely know how to dance. He was probably great at it, too, the prat. "Thanks, Susan. I'll try not to let you down."
She patted him on the cheek gently, smiling in a way that was vaguely condescending, but somehow nice at the same time. "Just be a pretty bit of arm candy for me, you'll do fine." That had Ernie laughing. Harry was wondering if he should regret his choices. Maybe Parvati would have been safer.
"Who are you going with, Ernie?" he asked curiously.
"Hannah," the Hufflepuff boy replied, looking incredibly pleased about it. "Not all of us want to break house boundaries for this one, y'know."
"He's fancied her since last year," Susan whispered theatrically, making Ernie blush. "See you later, Harry!"
Harry turned away just as the hall began to fill with students heading to classes, immeasurably glad he'd managed to ask Susan before he had an audience. He went to find Neville, grinning to himself. One problem down, just one more to go.
.-.-.
Harry was wondering if he should try making friends with people other than Neville — publicly, that was. With Ron still pissed at him and Hermione mostly-pissed at him, he found himself at a bit of a loose end when Neville was off doing things in the greenhouses. With little else to do, he went to the library, planning on getting a head start on the Featherlight charm for the next class.
It was a Friday evening, so the library was fairly busy — as far as the school library went. People wanting to get their homework done before the weekend, or finish stuff they'd been given an extension on and had to hand in before Saturday morning. He glanced around for a free table — Viktor was almost always in the library these days, maybe Harry could sit with him?
He followed the trail of starry-eyed teen girls until he saw the crowd of Viktor's most devoted stalkers lurking around the edge of a bookshelf. They looked furious, muttering to each other and glaring daggers at something on the other side of the shelf. Harry kept out of sight and edged closer, his eyebrows rising at what was making the girls so upset.
Viktor was indeed in the library, but he wasn't studying alone. Hermione was sat right next to him, leaning just a little bit into his space as she read a passage from the book they appeared to be sharing, then said something quietly. Viktor's lips twitched, and he replied, making Hermione giggle. The pair of them looked pretty cozy; no wonder Viktor's fans were upset.
Harry backed out of the scene, feeling conflicted. On the one hand, he liked Viktor a lot, and if he liked Hermione, more power to him. He even liked Hermione, most of the time, even if she didn't like Harry very much these days. He wasn't really sure where their friendship stood — and he wouldn't be until he had proof that she was just friends with him because Dumbledore told her to be — but he still wanted her to be happy.
But on the other hand, if Hermione was working for Dumbledore, he didn't want her getting anywhere near Viktor and messing with the tentative friendship Harry had with the champions. If she was up to something, using Viktor for something… or he was just being paranoid and she happened to be enjoying getting attention from a popular older boy. Harry wondered how Ron felt about the whole thing. If he even knew about it.
Shaking his head and deciding it was none of his business, he went in search of somewhere else to study. The evening was apparently full of surprises, as he rounded a corner to see Blaise, Millicent Bulstrode, Mandy Brocklehurst, the Patil twins and Lavender Brown all sat together, working on what looked like their Potions essay due Monday. He tried to back out of that one, too, but Blaise caught sight of him before he did. "Potter," he greeted neutrally, the barest of smirks on his lips. "Care to join us?"
"I wouldn't want to intrude," he insisted, giving curious glances to Bulstrode, Brocklehurst and Lavender. They didn't seem to be having any issue with the intermingled Gryffindor/Slytherin/Ravenclaw group.
"You wouldn't be," Parvati insisted. "Have you done Snape's essay yet? We've only just started."
"Being brutally honest, Potter; your Potions grade could use all the help it can get," Bulstrode remarked, but she sounded more teasing than cruel. Harry paused for a minute. If they were genuinely inviting him, it would be rude to say no, surely? Bulstrode was known to avoid most of the real Slytherin drama, and if Blaise was encouraging it then she couldn't be too bad. Perhaps the Bulstrode heir could be swayed away from her Death Eater father.
"Well, you're not wrong there," he admitted, dropping into a chair opposite Mandy. Even after his lessons with Snape over the summer, he couldn't be seen to suddenly do well in the Slytherin's class, so Harry was still averaging a Poor.
He pulled a quill and parchment from his bag, leaning in to share Blaise's textbook since he hadn't brought his own. As the girls started discussing the use of marigold stems in healing potions, Blaise's dark eyes flicked up to Harry. "You were busy fighting dragons, so we started the study group without you," he said under his breath, keeping his expression neutral, as if he was just explaining potions to him. "As you can see, it's going well so far. We'll explain more on Tuesday." That was their next scheduled get-together. Harry grinned; he loved when plans came together without his involvement. It was the best.
.-.-.-.
Practically sprinting up to the Transfiguration corridor as soon as all his dorm-mates were fast asleep, Harry grinned when he slipped inside the unused classroom. "We have got to figure out a regular meeting spot," he said by way of greeting. "I'm starting to lose track of the classroom rotation."
For safety's sake, they never met in the same place twice in a row, keeping up a schedule running through five different unused classrooms. Draco merely rolled his eyes at him. "Find somewhere you can be sure no one will catch on to, and I'll think about it." They'd been incredibly lucky so far — other than Remus catching them that one time last year, they hadn't been caught yet. But since their change in relationship, they'd started meeting up more and more, and it was just a matter of time.
Letting his schoolbag drop to the floor, Harry walked over to meet Draco at the desk he'd cleared off, leaning down to greet the Slytherin with a firm kiss. It still sent a thrill down his spine to know that he could do that; just go over to Draco and kiss him, whenever he liked. Well, as long as they were in private.
He sunk into the chair Draco had set out for him, their knees pressed together under the desk. Draco pulled his deck of cards from his pocket, shuffling. "Busy day?" Harry asked, and the blond shrugged.
"No more than usual. Uncle Severus had me help him top up the Hospital Wing stock after class." Harry was glad that wasn't his job anymore; being responsible for potions that he knew students would be taking had made Harry far too anxious. He was competent now, thanks to the extra lessons, but he was by no means excelling. Draco, on the other hand, was probably top of their year. "Dare I ask what you've been up to?"
"The usual chaos and mayhem," Harry replied, grinning. "Oh, you'll never guess what I saw in the library today." He told Draco about Viktor and Hermione, and the blond made a face.
"I thought Viktor had better taste than that," he complained. Harry nudged him scoldingly.
"Hermione's fine! What's wrong with her?" he argued, worried Draco was going to make a disparaging remark about her heritage. He was better about it in private, but every now and then some of Lucius Malfoy's childhood lessons slipped through. The older Draco got, the more he was learning to think for himself.
"Other than the fact that she could be selling you out to Dumbledore?" Draco pointed out, one pale eyebrow raised. "She doesn't know the first thing about quidditch, why is she drooling over the Bulgarian seeker?"
"Maybe that's why Viktor likes her," Harry reasoned, ignoring the Dumbledore comment. "She doesn't care about his career."
Draco hummed, unconvinced, and played a card that won him the round. Harry cursed, and the Slytherin smirked, leaning in to steal a kiss. "You might be getting better, but you're still no match for me in strategy," he teased playfully.
"Why don't we play Coup le Chat instead?" Harry retorted, preferring the more luck-based game. Draco huffed, but obligingly dealt out six cards each.
Distracted by the talk of Viktor and Hermione, Harry almost forgot to tell Draco the real reason he'd asked for them to meet that night. Well, other than to kiss him. He'd never get enough of kissing his boyfriend. "Hey, Draco? Who are you going to the Yule Ball with?"
Draco stiffened, his fingers fumbling with the card he'd just drawn. "We can't go together," he said immediately. Harry scoffed.
"I'm not that much of an idiot," he agreed. "Though, for the record, I definitely would if I could. But that's why I asked; who are you going with?"
"I was planning to ask Pansy," Draco replied, shrugging. "Our parents will expect it, and she'll be fairly decent company."
"Just make sure she keeps her hands to herself," Harry said with a scowl, not liking the idea of Pansy Parkinson hanging off Draco's arm all night. Draco scoffed.
"Pansy's not interested in anything like that," he dismissed. He bumped his knee against Harry's. "Are you taking anyone, or just going to lurk in the corner with Longbottom all night?"
"I have to take someone," Harry informed him. "The champions are supposed to open the dancing with their partners. I asked Susan Bones this morning."
Draco's grey eyes were amused. "Bones? A Hufflepuff? Clever; showing support of Cedric and his house, branching out from Gryffindor, and allying with Amelia Bones' heir. No one will ever complain about a sweet little Hufflepuff like her." There was a faint twist to his lips, and it took Harry a minute to figure out what it was.
"Don't be jealous," he soothed, placing a hand over Draco's on the table. "She knows we're going as just friends. She's doing it for her image as much as I'm doing it for mine. I've been told I just need to be her arm candy," he added with a grin. That softened Draco a little.
"Malfoys don't share," he said eventually, turning his hand over to lace their fingers together. "Even if no one else knows it, you're mine. The thought of her getting to dance with you in front of all those people, when I can't even look at you without having to make sure I look like I hate you…" Harry pushed a lock of blond hair out of Draco's eyes, tilting his head forward to press their foreheads together for a brief second.
"One day, when this is all over, I'll dance with you in front of the whole bloody Ministry," he promised, kissing Draco slowly. The blond melted into the kiss, fingers threading into Harry's hair. "That's actually something I wanted to ask you about," he added breathlessly when they parted, refusing to get distracted.
"Can it wait?" Draco muttered, going in for another kiss. Harry let it go on for a minute or two, then pulled back.
"I promised Susan I'd find someone to teach me to dance before the ball, so I don't embarrass the both of us," he explained. "You know how to dance, right?"
"I'm a Malfoy," Draco retorted, as if it answered that question. Which, Harry supposed, it did.
"Would you teach me? I know we're both boys, so it'll be different, but… you won't laugh at me." How far they'd come, that Draco Malfoy was one of the few people he could say that to.
A thoughtful hum was Draco's response. "I suppose. If it's to save you looking a fool in front of our esteemed guests," he added wryly. Harry beamed, kissing him again. "Thank you! I'll try my best, I swear." He made to give Draco another kiss, but the blond boy got to his feet abruptly, rolling up his sleeves.
"Let's see what we're working with, then," he prompted, eyeing Harry expectantly. Harry gulped.
"What? Now?" he asked, alarmed. He hadn't expected to start so soon! He'd thought maybe he could have a day or two to mentally prepare himself. Have Neville show him a step or two, so he didn't totally look like an idiot in front of his boyfriend.
"I need to see if it's going to take me every night from now til Christmas to get you in shape," Draco retorted.
"Oi!" Harry argued. "I'm in great shape!"
Draco's eyes trailed over him, heavy-lidded. Harry shivered. "Hmm, you're not bad." He stepped closer to Harry, resting a hand on the small of his back that dipped down to brush his backside for the briefest of seconds, just long enough to be intentional. "But let's see if you can dance."
"We don't have music," Harry protested.
"Doesn't matter for now, and you can bring your Wireless next time. Quit making excuses, Potter." Draco's smirk turned challenging. "Unless you're scared?"
"In your dreams," Harry returned. Draco winked at him.
"You frequently are," he said without missing a beat, catching Harry when he stumbled and pulling him up into dancing hold. "Now, you'll have to lead Bones, so I'll teach you that way. It'll be easier for you anyway; following's harder, you've got to do it backwards. It'll feel a bit weird at first, since I'm taller than you, but so's she, especially in heels." Harry wanted to argue, but he couldn't deny it. Susan wouldn't be quite as tall as Draco, but there wasn't a chance of her being the same height as Harry, let alone shorter.
"We'll start off basic," Draco assured. "I'd imagine the opening dance will be a traditional wizarding waltz, and anything that follows probably a fairly simple box-step."
Harry wished he knew what any of those things meant. "Okay, here we go. Just do as I tell you."
Without any music to follow, Draco instead counted beats quietly, directing Harry with soft words and pointed nudges of his hands. Harry still tripped over his feet for the first twenty minutes, but eventually he started to get the hang of it a little bit. "Look at me, not at your feet," Draco instructed. Harry snapped his head up, meeting Draco's silver gaze. The Slytherin had a soft, unguarded smile at the corners of his lips. It took Harry's breath away for a minute, and his feet stopped moving. Draco blinked at him. "What are you—" Harry cut him off with a kiss, moving his hand up to cup Draco's jaw. The blond hummed quietly. "That's not part of the dance," he said a beat after they parted, looking a little dazed.
"Couldn't help myself," Harry replied, grinning abashedly. "So how am I doing?"
"Not as terrible as I feared," Draco acquiesced. "Definite potential. We should still start meeting up at least every other night, though, just to make sure you get plenty of practice. Unless that'll be too much? My roommates don't much care what I do at night, but yours aren't good at minding their own business."
"I'll make it work." Harry didn't need sleep, right? Not when he could spend several hours a night in Draco's arms. And, sometimes, stepping on Draco's feet. "Every other night, or every night?"
"We'll go for every night this week, then go from there. Can you handle that?"
Harry smirked. "Oh, I don't know, having to spend that much time looking at your ugly mug," he teased, stroking Draco's cheek. "Not sure I can cope."
Draco sniffed haughtily. "One must suffer for one's art, Potter," he said in reply, sounding every inch the puffed up little pureblood lordling his father wanted him to be. Harry laughed, leaning up for another kiss. He liked kissing when they were like this. Having to stretch up on his toes, just a little bit, to get the perfect angle to slot their mouths together without his glasses digging into Draco's face. He didn't mind being shorter than Draco.
They kissed for a few minutes more, then Draco took Harry's hand in his own, nudging him back into hold. "If you can get this tonight, maybe tomorrow I'll introduce the lifts."
Harry's face paled. Maybe dancing wasn't such a good idea after all.
.-.-.-.
Since eating meals together had become rather a larger affair than they'd intended, the four champions had to find other ways to get together and discuss progress on the eggs. One afternoon a week or so before term was due to end, they sat out by the lake on a large blanket Fleur had conjured, surrounded by Warming charms courtesy of Harry and Viktor. Harry had gotten pretty good at them over the summer — Sirius still couldn't stand being cold.
"I vote we put the eggs away until after Christmas," Cedric said, lying back on the blanket, his hair mussed and sticking out at funny angles. "All the screaming is doing my head in."
"I put a Silencing charm on mine," Fleur volunteered. Harry snorted.
"Pretty sure that defeats the purpose."
She shrugged. "Eet stops eet from screaming every time eet falls off my dresser."
"How often is that?" Cedric asked with raised eyebrows, which looked a little odd from Harry's perspective as the Hufflepuff was upside down.
"Often enough," Fleur said evasively.
"The rest of the Durmstrang students haff banned me from opening mine vhen they are around," Viktor sighed. "I agree, leaving them until after the Yule Ball is best."
"I'm fine with that," Harry said, nodding. He leaned back on his hands, glancing out across the lake. "Oh look, it's snowing." Just a little bit, fine flakes beginning to dust the surface of the lake. Viktor scoffed.
"That is barely even snow," he dismissed. "In Bulgaria, there is four feet already."
"And I bet it's bloody freezing." Cedric grimaced. "No wonder you're so good at Warming charms."
"It is necessary," Viktor agreed. "Especially for flying."
That reminded Harry of the conversation he and Viktor had had weeks ago, before the first task. "Hey, Fleur; do you play quidditch? Do you even have quidditch at Beauxbatons?"
"Of course we 'ave quidditch," Fleur said, mock-offended. "I am seeker for my 'ouse team."
Harry looked at Viktor, and they both burst out laughing. "I told you!" he crowed. "Must be something about seekers. Reckless idiots, the lot of us."
"You play seeker also, 'arry?" Fleur checked, wanting to make sure they weren't laughing at her. Harry nodded.
"Cedric, too. Viktor and I were talking about it the other day, I wondered if the Goblet was looking for seekers. Gotta be something a bit wrong in the head with all of us, flying around at top speeds looking for a tiny golden ball while the other team tries to knock us off our brooms." There was something a little bit mad about every quidditch player, but seekers were probably the most bizarre.
"I haff never met a sane seeker," Viktor declared wisely. "And I haff met a lot of seekers."
"Sounds about right," Cedric agreed, snickering. Even Fleur laughed.
"I do not think a sane person would enter zis tournament, non?" she agreed ruefully.
"Ve should all fly together sometime," Viktor said, looking out over the lake. The snow was making a vague attempt at coming down harder, settling on the railings of the Durmstrang ship. "A four-vay seeker match."
Harry imagined it, grinning. "That would be brilliant. Where, though?" The quidditch pitch was out of bounds for the year; something to do with the tournament. Harry was pretty sure he didn't want to know a thing about it until he absolutely had to.
"We do not need goals for seeking," Fleur pointed out. "Anywhere on ze grounds will do."
"First Wednesday of winter break?" Cedric suggested. "Just keep it between us, a little friendly game. Nothing crazy."
"You're on," Harry agreed, grinning. He was going to go against the seeker who caught the snitch in the World Cup final. It was going to be epic.
.-.-.-.
Worrying the edge of his cardigan between his fingers, Remus sat down opposite Sirius, whose expression was grave. "Severus has news, doesn't he?" the animagus presumed. He could read Remus easily, after all these years. Remus nodded.
"The Mark is dark enough to make out properly, now," he admitted, stomach churning. He hated looking at that stain on his love's skin — it felt like they were nineteen and terrified all over again. "He's had letters from most of the old crowd. They're confused, but hopeful. They're all just… waiting." Severus could feel it coming, he said they could all feel it coming. One day soon, their lord would call them, and they would answer. "He said Karkaroff's been even shiftier than usual," he added with a grimace. A growl came from Sirius before he could stop himself. They both hated the idea of that scumbag being around Harry, but there was nothing any of them could do.
"Any word from the Ministry yet?"
"Nothing official," Remus said with a shake of his head. "There are rumours, of course. Fudge is in complete denial, won't hear a whisper of it. No one has even seen Barty Crouch since the first task; he's sick, apparently. Still no word on Bertha."
"We all know she's dead," Sirius murmured, grimacing. "Especially if Harry's dream is anything to go by. Poor Bertha was probably just in the wrong place at the wrong time. She was always good at that."
Remus didn't remember much about Bertha Jorkins from school — she was three years older than them — but he remembered her always managing to stumble across things she shouldn't. Once she'd almost walked in on him and Severus kissing, in their fourth year. Only Severus' quick thinking with a Dissillusionment charm had saved them.
"I suspect Voldemort could be resurrected right in front of Fudge's face and he'd still deny it," Remus mused. "Merlin help us if he ends up being our wartime Minister. We'd be doomed."
"He's exactly who Dumbledore wants in power at a time like this," Sirius pointed out. "A useless moron with all the courage of a flobberworm. No chance of him mobilising any useful defence force. Just sit back and wait for Albus Dumbledore to save the day." He made a faint noise of disgust. "How is the old coot, anyway?"
Remus grinned at that. Sirius was going to love this. "Harry and his new friends seem to be pushing his buttons in all the wrong ways," he said, perking up. "Severus said they've all started mixing houses at mealtimes. Apparently you can hardly tell which house table is which, these days."
Sirius barked out a laugh. "Brilliant! There's nothing he can do about that, not without looking like he's stunting progress. All of them are mixing? Even the Slytherins?" "Even the Slytherins," Remus confirmed. "Mostly with Ravenclaws, but they're branching out to Hufflepuff and even Gryffindor in some cases. Severus said he once saw Cassius Warrington and Adrian Pucey discussing quidditch strategy with the Weasley twins and Angelina Johnson."
"Wow." Sirius looked duly impressed. "It'll be a whole different school by the time Harry leaves, if he's done this much in just a few months."
"I think that's what he's hoping for." Remus reached for his tea, taking a long gulp. "Our boy is definitely up to something. He says it's just study groups and friendships, but I know that look in his eye. That's a Lily Evans Vs The World kind of look." James always used to call it that, when Lily decided there was some injustice she absolutely couldn't stand for, and would plot ruthlessly until it was righted. If Harry was taking on that look in the face of Dumbledore… the headmaster had better watch out.
"Merlin, imagine if Prongsy and Lils could see him now," Sirius sighed, smiling faintly. Remus grinned back, the ache in his chest still present, but less raw. Every day it got easier to talk about them, now he had someone to remember them with. "They'd be so bloody proud."
"Severus said his grades are improving in spades," Remus couldn't help but brag. "Minerva was raving in the staff room about an essay of his that could've come from a sixth year, and Filius said he's picking things up even faster than Miss Granger. Moody's the only one who doesn't seem to be impressed by him."
Sirius scowled at the man's name. "Yeah, well he's in Dumbledore's pocket, isn't he? Never gonna be happy about Harry getting too strong. Pup needs to be more careful; if Dumbledore thinks he's broken the Compulsion charm, he might start looking into things."
"He knows what he's doing, Pads," Remus assured. "They all just think it's research for the tournament paying off in unexpected ways. Or the fact that he's hanging around with older kids more. He spends a lot of time with the Weasley twins, these days. And, of course, the other champions." Truthfully, Remus was a little worried about the rift between Harry, Ron and Hermione. It was going to get explosive; they were all too strong personalities for it not to. It was just a matter of when and how bad. "He seems happy." Sirius was smiling softly as he spoke, and Remus nodded.
"Happier than last year," he agreed. Deep down, he liked to hope that at least a little bit of that was due to them; he and Sirius and Severus. Giving the boy a safe place to come home to, adults who loved him. Because Severus could deny it all he wanted; he was beginning to love Harry too, just a bit.
"Did you see him?" Sirius asked.
"Just for a little while, he came down to Severus' rooms to have tea. He didn't stay long, though; Draco's giving him dancing lessons to prepare for the Yule Ball."
Sirius snorted. "We should've done that over the summer, as soon as we saw dress robes on the school list."
"I'm sure he's having much more fun learning this way," Remus assured, remembering the blush on Harry's face and the smile in his eyes as he confessed to getting lessons from Draco.
"Oh, I bet he is," Sirius drawled, smirking. "I hope there's pictures. I bet Harry'll look great in those dress robes. He's going with Amelia's niece, you said?"
"Susan," Remus confirmed. "Nice girl. Definite snake in the badger den. She'll look after Harry."
"Hopefully he has a better time of it than we did at that graduation ball," Sirius remarked. A groan escaped Remus' lips; he'd almost forgotten about that.
"I try and block that night from my memory," he confessed, making Sirius laugh. Graduation ball had been an unmitigated disaster, for everyone except James and Lily.
Remus shook his head, setting his empty teacup down and slumping back in the armchair. Harry would probably have a great time at the Yule Ball — no one was likely to hex the dance floor, after all.
It was everything else that came after it, Remus was worried about.