The morning of the second task dawned bright and early, thankfully fairly mild for late February. Harry readied himself in the dorm, putting on his swimming trunks under his robe and stuffing the gillyweed in his pocket. Neville was waiting for him in the common room with a bacon sandwich, and Harry grinned at him. "Is the hall a bit mad?"
"It's been worse," Neville said with a shrug, "but I still thought you'd prefer to avoid it."
"Where are Ron and Hermione?" Harry was surprised the pair weren't there with them, since they were so determined to be his best friends again. They hardly let him go to the bathroom without their company these days.
"I haven't seen them, actually," Neville replied. Harry frowned, but shook it off; he had bigger things to worry about.
Eating his sandwich on the way down to the lake, he raised his eyebrows at seeing the stands from the first task constructed on the bank of the lake, overlooking the calm water. Neville hugged him and wished him good luck before hurrying off to get a seat, and Harry made his way towards the judges' table, where he could see Viktor waiting. There was no sign of Fleur or Cedric yet.
"Morning," Harry greeted, glad for the Warming charm on his robe. Snape had promised the gillyweed would help him adjust to the water temperature, and Harry prayed he was right about that. It had to be freezing in there. Viktor nodded in greeting, his dark eyes fixed sharply on the water. He was clearly in the zone, and Harry left him to it, scanning the rest of the crowd. He was surprised to see Percy sat in Mr Crouch's seat, and he wandered over. "Where's Mr Crouch?"
"He's still not well," Percy told him with a frown. "Terrible thing, he hasn't been in the office in weeks. Of course, I'm handling everything as per his instruction — owls me every morning, you see. I have it all under control." Percy puffed out his chest. "But of course I wish him the speediest recovery."
Harry's brow furrowed; that couldn't be right. He'd seen Mr Crouch's name on the map half a dozen times since the Yule Ball. But of course he couldn't say that, or he'd have to explain the map, and then he'd be in all kinds of trouble.
Before he could ask for any detail on Crouch's mysterious illness, Bagman appeared at Harry's side, slinging a heavy arm over his shoulders. "Alright, there, Harry?" He ducked in close, dropping his voice. "Need any last-minute pointers?"
Harry firmly removed the man's arm from his person, taking a step away. "I'm fine, thanks." Why was the man so insistent on helping him? Surely Harry didn't look that pathetic.
The arrival of Cedric and Fleur was the perfect excuse for Harry to ditch Bagman, and he bumped Cedric's shoulder with his own. "You ready for this?"
"Don't have much choice, do I?" Cedric pointed out dryly. "Hey, have you seen Cho this morning? She wasn't at breakfast."
"I haven't," Harry replied, puzzled; that wasn't like Cho at all. "But I didn't go to breakfast. Neville brought me up a sandwich so I could avoid the crowd."
"It's not him, is it?" Cedric asked with a wiggle of his eyebrows, making it clear what he was referring to. Harry blushed, jabbing the Hufflepuff in the side.
"No!" he hissed, wide-eyed. "It's not Neville, God! And keep your voice down, Skeeter's bound to be around here somewhere."
Cedric looked apologetic, glancing around for any sign of the blonde reporter. "That is weird, actually; she's usually right on top of the action. Maybe your lawyer finally scared her off."
"I can only hope," Harry said ruefully.
It drew closer to the starting time, and as the stands began to fill with people Bagman cast Sonorus on himself, striding out to the water's edge and starting up a chatter to pass the time. "All four champions are ready and raring to go! For those of you who aren't aware, the second task is thus; each champion has had a person they care about taken from them, stolen away into the depths of the lake by its resident clan of merpeople. It is up to the champions to find what has been taken from them and retrieve them within the hour!"
At Bagman's words, all four champions shared horrified looks. "A person," Viktor murmured grimly.
"Cho!" Cedric gasped, casting panicked eyes on the water's surface. Harry gripped his arm to stop him diving in then and there.
"They're safe, they have to be. The task hasn't started yet." He wasn't sure which of them he was trying to reassure. "But after an hour…" Fleur trailed off, her blue eyes fearful. "I do not know 'oo zey 'ave taken from me." She disappeared, hurrying over to her headmistress, and there was a rapid conversation in French that ended with Fleur's hands sparking with fire in her fury. "Gabrielle!" The quarter-veela stomped over to Ludo Bagman, grabbing him by the front of his robe and hoisting him off his feet, glaring. Her hair had flames licking at the tips, and Harry could smell burning ozone. He hadn't realised Fleur had that much of her heritage in her. "If anyzing 'appens to my leetle sister, I will kill you, Bagman," she declared spitefully. Harry's jaw dropped. Fleur had talked about her little sister before; Gabrielle was barely nine years old! How could they possibly think it was a good idea to put her at the bottom of a lake?
Bagman looked like he was about to wet himself, but he bravely patted Fleur on the shoulder. "Not to worry, Miss Delacour," he said, voice shaking. "We've got every precaution in place."
That didn't seem to satisfy Fleur, but she huffed, dropping him to the ground and turning on her heel back to the other champions. Harry could see several boys in the stands watching with a mixture of fear and awe; even he had to admit that was terrifyingly impressive, watching her pick up Bagman with one hand.
"Remind me never to piss her off," Cedric muttered. Harry and Viktor both hummed in agreement.
With Fleur pacing like a caged tiger, Bagman and the other judges seemed to realise it was best to get started as quickly as possible.
Harry stripped off his robe and shoes when the other champions started doing the same, leaving him in the swimming shorts and tank top he'd been supplied with the day before. The other male champions were dressed similarly, and Fleur wore a silver one-piece swimsuit, oblivious to the looks she was getting once she dropped her robe. She was too focused on her sister and the lake.
"Champions, you have one hour!" Bagman announced, still eyeing Fleur warily. "Start on my whistle. One… two… three!" Bagman blew his whistle, and they immediately jumped into action. Harry shoved the gillyweed in his mouth and began to chew, wading out into the freezing cold water. All three other champions blazed past him, disappearing under the surface of the water. Harry refused to do so until he was absolutely sure this whole thing would work.
I really should've tested this, he thought to himself as he swallowed the slimy plant, ignoring the faint laughter he could hear from the stands as he stood in the shallows like an idiot. Don't fail me now, Snape.
When it finally started working, it kicked in remarkably quickly, and Harry had to throw himself into the water to avoid choking on air. His feet elongated into flippers, his hands webbing between the fingers, and he grinned to himself as he swam forwards, the water feeling more room temperature than the near-ice he knew it was.
Snape hadn't let him down. He could do this.
.-.-.-.
Much more than an hour later, Harry burst through the surface of the lake and took a glorious gasp of air, having lost his gills about fifteen feet under. He dragged Ron and Gabrielle with him, both of them regaining consciousness once they were above water. Gabrielle's eyes immediately filled with tears as she splashed and gasped her sister's name, and Harry let go of Ron, letting the little girl wind her arms around his neck. "There you go, I've got you," he soothed, unsure how much English she spoke. "Fleur is okay," he said, though truthfully he didn't know what had happened to the French girl. "Can you swim?" Gabrielle sniffled and made a so-so gesture with one hand, the other gripping Harry's shoulder tightly.
"Harry, hurry up! What's she doing here?" Ron asked, impatiently treading water, his red hair plastered to his forehead.
"Fleur never showed up, I couldn't leave her there." Harry started to swim the best he could with Gabrielle hanging on his back. He was glad for all his time in the pool at Seren Du now.
"You idiot, you didn't seriously think they'd let us die down there, did you?" Ron burst out.
"That's not a risk I'm willing to take with the life of a nine year-old girl," Harry retorted sharply. "Just swim." The closer he drew to the bank, he could see a crowd gathered with their wands out, fire flaring from somewhere in the middle. Madame Maxime towered over it all, looking like she was struggling to keep hold of something. Or someone. Fleur.
"Gabrielle!" The crowd was forcefully parted as Fleur broke away from her headmistress' hold in a blast of flames, rushing towards the water's edge. On Harry's back, Gabrielle perked up, calling for Fleur.
"She's fine!" Harry assured as loud as he could, swimming faster. Fleur clearly couldn't enter the water when she was in her veela state, and she prowled the bank until Harry was close enough to let Gabrielle down, the little girl hitting the shallows and sprinting into her sister's arms. Fleur immediately calmed, muttering in French and smoothing a hand down her sister's wet hair. Ignoring Ron as he was bundled away by Percy, Harry hurried to Fleur's side. "She's okay, right? The merpeople wouldn't let me take her at first, but you didn't show up — I couldn't leave her there."
When Fleur looked up at him over Gabrielle's head, her eyes were filled with tears. "I was attacked by ze grindylows," she sobbed. "I lost my Bubble'ead charm. Water ees not my strongest element." There were still embers flying off her hair, and Harry squeezed her shoulder.
"I got her. She's fine." Next thing he know, he was being dragged into the sisters' hug, Fleur pressing kisses to his face.
"You saved 'er, even though she wasn't your 'ostage," she breathed thankfully. "Zank you, 'Arry."
"I couldn't leave her there," Harry repeated, hugging Fleur. Now that he was closer, he could see she had dozens of vicious-looking cuts all over her skin, blood dripping down onto the sand. "Fleur, you need to see Madam Pomfrey."
"She's not the only one, Mr Potter." Harry's head snapped up to see the mediwitch in question stood behind him, lips pursed as she surveyed the scene. "All of you, come with me. Honestly, sending children into the lake in February, it's a wonder you didn't all go hypothermic!"
With Fleur refusing to let go of Gabrielle, the three of them followed Pomfrey over to the first aid tent, where the other five task participants were waiting. Cedric and Cho were huddled together in a fluffy towel, otherwise no worse for wear. Viktor had an arm wrapped around a shivering Hermione, his head human once more, and nearby Ron was sat in a towel of his own, glaring at the Bulgarian boy. Pomfrey wrapped a towel tightly around Harry's shoulders, then thrust a vial into his hand. Harry recognised it as Snape's extra-strength Pepper-Up potion, and downed it happily, sighing as the steam began to gush from his ears.
"Gabrielle first," Fleur insisted stubbornly when the matron turned to her. Pomfrey huffed, but obligingly wrapped the girl in a towel and gave her a potion too — only then did Fleur allow her to start healing her wounds.
"Alright, Harry?" Cedric asked, his grey eyes dark with concern. "You were down there a long time."
"I'm fine," he assured, casting a Drying charm on himself. He cast one on Gabrielle too, and the girl's violent shivers lessened. "You? Cho?"
"We're both okay," Cho promised, managing the barest smile. "I don't really remember much, to be honest. One minute I was in Dumbledore's office, the next I woke up in the middle of the lake." Cedric definitely didn't look impressed by the proceedings, and Harry didn't blame him. He would probably be far more furious himself if it had been Neville or Draco or even Ginny — especially Ginny, after her ordeal with the Chamber two years ago — but obviously Dumbledore had done the choosing, if he thought Ron was who he'd miss most.
"Harry!" Hermione gushed, eyes bright. "You did it! You worked it out all by yourself!" She sounded equal parts surprised and impressed, and Harry smirked; no one would even believe him if he admitted to getting help from Snape of all people.
"I told you I had it sorted."
"You haff a water beetle in your hair," Viktor said to Hermione, reaching up to gently brush the beetle away. Hermione smiled at him, but turned back to Harry.
"What were you thinking, going back for Fleur's sister like that? You wasted so much time! Viktor said you were there before any of the others."
"I was thinking I wasn't going to let a nine year-old die, Hermione," Harry bit out, wondering how she and Ron both could just trust Dumbledore when he said nothing bad would happen. The first task had been dragons, and they thought everything was going to be perfectly safe?
He could see Dumbledore conferring with the mer-chief at the edge of the water, and then gathering the other judges to discuss something. Harry barely paid attention to the scores — he didn't care if they gave him a zero, as long as he was done with the task. Still, it didn't surprise him to hear that Dumbledore had somehow managed to spin his decision to save Gabrielle into some sort of example of martyrdom, giving him extra points for it. He was tied for first with Cedric now.
"Just one more to go," Cedric said as they were all herded up to the castle, towels still draped around them. "Then it's all over."
"Thank fuck for that," Harry declared vehemently. He didn't have to think about the bloody tournament for three whole months; then they'd be told about the third task, and a month later it would be done. "Merlin, I can't wait to take a bath." Cedric laughed as Cho made a loud noise of agreement, and they glanced back at Viktor and Hermione; Viktor seemed to be trying to talk to Hermione, while she just wanted to walk up ahead to talk to Harry. Harry was glad Viktor knew he had no interest in Hermione, or it would all look a bit suspicious.
All Harry wanted was a hot bath, a hot drink, and bed, in that order. And to call Seren Du — he needed to talk to Remus about getting a present for Snape. The man had definitely saved his arse on this task.
.-.-.
The day after the task was a Saturday, and Harry was inordinately pleased not to have to go to classes. He emerged for breakfast wearing a thick jumper and two pairs of socks, his Gryffindor scarf wrapped around his neck — even after the Pepper-Up and a long bath, he couldn't quite shake the chill that had settled into his bones. He sat with the other champions and their assorted crowd at breakfast; everyone else who had been in the lake was layered up as well, except Viktor. "I am Slavic," he said by way of explanation, reaching for the coffee pot.
Fleur had Gabrielle sat on her lap, and was dropping kisses on the girl's silver-blonde hair every few minutes. She was still clearly shell-shocked from thinking she had failed her sister in the worst of ways. Harry squeezed her hand under the table, offering a supportive smile. "I get that you lot were all risking your lives down there and everything," Fred remarked from across the table, "but it was a bit boring for the rest of us to watch."
Harry had wondered about that. "Did they not have screens, or anything with tracking charms so you could watch?"
Both twins shook their heads. "We sat and stared at the lake for an hour," Cassius confirmed in a drawl. "It was thrilling, really."
"You'd think they would've figured something out," Cho mused, leaning into Cedric's shoulder, swamped by a huge Hufflepuff Quidditch Team hoodie with 'Diggory' on the back. "The tournament being a spectator sport and all. At least the first task was fun to watch."
"Hopefully the third task will be more entertaining," Harry said. The other three champions groaned.
"Let's not talk about the third task yet," Viktor begged wearily.
After he'd eaten his fill, Harry took advantage of Hermione being distracted by Viktor — and thus Ron being distracted by Hermione — and snuck away with Neville and Ginny back to the common room. The rug by the fire was calling his name.
"I can't believe you're tied for first," Neville mused aloud once the three of them were settled in front of the fire, Harry sprawled out on his belly with one of his muggle fiction books open in front of him. "You might actually win this thing, y'know."
"I don't know about that," Harry waved him off.
"He's right, though," Ginny insisted. "You're doing really well, Harry. And you've always been good at getting through dangerous situations. You could take the Cup. Imagine if you did win!"
"I don't care about winning," Harry said tiredly. "I just want to not die." It weighed heavy in the back of his mind that whoever had entered him into this tournament had done so for a reason, and had yet to reveal themselves. The clock was running down, and they could end up getting desperate.
.-.-.-.-.
By the middle of the week, Harry was about ready to hex Ron's mouth shut. As one of the few people who had been under the surface of the lake — regardless of the fact that he'd been unconscious for 95% of it — he had taken it upon himself to answer the questions of anyone curious enough to approach Harry. He'd gone from admitting to being put in an enchanted sleep for the whole thing, to insisting he'd fought off a whole group of merpeople bare-handed. Even Hermione was getting sick of him; though she was getting sick of everyone, after spending several days being teased about being the one Viktor would miss most.
On his way back from his last class of the day, Harry froze when his name was called across the hallway. "Mr Potter, would you mind following me to my office?" Dumbledore strode towards him, eyes twinkling genially. "I won't keep you from your friends too long. I merely wish to talk."
"We'll see you at dinner, Harry," Hermione said, tugging Ron along with her, leaving him alone with the headmaster. Harry had no choice but to follow Dumbledore up to his office, the headmaster conjuring a tea set once he was sat at his desk.
"Milk and sugar, Harry?" he offered, as if it were perfectly normal for him to invite a student up for tea without reason, even if that student was Harry Potter.
"Please." Harry had zero intention of drinking anything Dumbledore gave him. He accepted the mug, putting it to his lips, but didn't drink. Dumbledore's smile widened. "Why am I here, sir? Is something wrong? Is it Sirius?"
"Everything is well," Dumbledore assured. "I have not heard from Sirius for a while, but I am sure he's doing just fine." Harry hid a smirk at that; if only Dumbledore knew. "I merely thought I would see how you're faring after the second task. You're handling the tournament remarkably well, and I'm impressed. Your use of gillyweed was truly inspired."
"Neville told me about it," Harry lied earnestly. He didn't look Dumbledore in the eye. "I had to, uh, borrow some from Professor Snape. But I think that was worth it." As promised, Snape had given him three days of detention for theft. The first detention had been spent with Remus going over his Runes, and the second had become a lesson on cauldron monitoring charms while Snape brewed more potions for the Hospital Wing. Harry would have his final detention after dinner. Dumbledore chuckled. "Professor Snape is often possessive of his store rooms. Sometimes, these things are necessary." The headmaster's gaze flicked to Harry's teacup, and Harry wondered what sort of potion was in it that he was supposed to be reacting to. Dumbledore would notice if the level in his cup didn't get any lower. Pretending to take another sip, Harry screwed up his nose in concentration, trying to vanish the contents of the cup. He hadn't tried a Vanishing charm wandlessly before, but with a little nudge of his magical core, the tea disappeared. When he set down the empty cup, Dumbledore looked approving behind his smile.
He didn't seem to be expecting Harry to pass out or some such, so Harry just continued on as always, still not looking the man in the eye. "How are you feeling about the third task, Harry?"
"It's a little way off yet, so I'm not too worried about it," Harry replied. "Maybe in a couple of months I'll start freaking out. I'm not used to getting so much advanced warning before I end up in a life or death situation, it's really quite disconcerting." That made Dumbledore chuckle.
"I can only imagine. You seem to be getting along well with the other champions — no worries about facing them one last time?"
"No, they're all really nice. I don't think they expected me to be much competition." Harry wasn't sure how he was supposed to be answering when he didn't know what the potion was supposed to do, so he just kept smiling and hoped for the best.
"You are a young man of many surprises," Dumbledore complimented. "Have you anything else to tell me? Noticed anything… unusual, lately?"
"Not that I can think of," Harry said with a shrug, wondering what Dumbledore thought he was mixed up in. "Why, should I have?"
"I was merely concerned; with all the unfamiliar people walking these halls, there's always the possibility that one of them may wish to do you harm. Would you mind if I just gave you a quick check over? There may be a hex on you going unnoticed."
Harry's heart dropped, but he tried not to let it show on his face. His pulse picked up, and he gave a false grin. "Sure!" he chirped, betting anything the tea was supposed to make him compliant. "Madam Pomfrey checked me over after the task, but if you think it's necessary, sir."
Dumbledore smiled, raising his wand. Harry had to force himself not to flinch. "Excellent. One moment, please." He murmured a quiet spell, and immediately Harry felt as if something slimy was crawling over him, stuck to his magical core — the sensation the books said he would feel when someone placed a charm or curse on him. In the back of his mind he vaguely felt his inhibitions lower, but he was mostly concerned about the wrong-feeling magic. He kept up his smile, keeping his panic locked down.
"Am I all good, sir?"
"Yes, you're in top shape, my boy," Dumbledore assured. "Thank you for indulging an old man's fears."
"Can I go to dinner now, sir?" Harry asked, glancing at the clock on the desk.
"Of course, of course. But are you sure there's nothing you wish to tell me about, Harry?"
There was a strange moment when the unfamiliar magic choking Harry's squeezed down, urging him to blurt out all his secrets. Harry raised his Occlumency shields to push the urge away, managing a relaxed shrug. "I can't think of anything, sir, but I'll come to you if that changes."
That seemed to satisfy the headmaster, and he let Harry go with a cheerful wave. As soon as Harry was away from the gargoyle, he squeezed his eyes shut and sucked in a deep breath, shuddering as the magic wrapped tighter around him. It was suffocating. How had he gone years with Dumbledore's magic on him and never noticed before? Now he was aware of his own magical core, the foreign intrusion felt awful. He'd had some practice with it over the summer — Snape or Remus or Sirius putting curses and charms on him, so he could feel what it was like. None of them had been like this.
He didn't want to draw attention, so he forced himself to straighten up and head down to the Great Hall for dinner, sitting between Ron and Hermione even though there was an empty seat next to Neville. "What did Dumbledore want?" Ron asked around a mouthful of chicken, and Harry shrugged.
"Just to see how I was holding up with the tournament and everything," he replied nonchalantly.
"That was nice of him," Hermione said with a smile. Harry could hardly eat he felt so sick — did Ron and Hermione know what Dumbledore had planned? Had they been warned he was going to be a little different, and it was because of a spell?
"We should play exploding snap after dinner," Ron suggested. "It's been ages since we've done that."
"Can't — detention with Snape, remember?" Harry's grimace hid his near-palpable relief at having the perfect excuse to go see Snape as soon as possible.
Ron made a face. "Can't believe the greasy git gave you detention for taking what you needed for the task," he grumbled. "You're a Triwizard champion! He should be happy to help you beat those other schools."
"As if Snape has ever missed out on a chance to give me detention," Harry pointed out. He forced himself to eat the last bite of his shepherd's pie, pushing his plate away. "I should get going before I'm late and he gives me even more detention for it. I'll see you later." The crush of the magic was getting worse, seeping into his pores until all he wanted to do was run to Dumbledore and spill his secrets. Harry pushed it away, shouldering his bag and hurrying down to the dungeons. He was sweating with the effort of resisting the magic by the time he burst into Snape's office, startling the man. "Help me," he gasped, throwing himself down into a chair, gripping the edge of the desk hard. Snape leapt to his feet, locking and warding the room with a spell as he rushed to Harry's side.
"What happened?" Cool fingers gripped his chin, raising his head so the man could look him over.
"Dumbledore. Cast a spell on me," Harry bit out. "I think— Compulsion, again."
Snape straightened up, waving his wand over Harry. He frowned. "Sit still." He began to chant quietly in Latin, waving his wand in a complicated motion. Much like it had with the goblins, a ball of black glowing magic began to form over Harry's sternum, growing until Snape suddenly wrenched his wand upwards and the ball dissipated. Harry felt the foreign magic smothering his core melt away, and sucked in air like a drowning man. Snape's hand came down on his shoulder, steadying him. "Easy, Potter." His voice was surprisingly gentle, and he waved his wand again, no doubt checking Harry for any other spells. "You're clear."
Harry slumped back in his chair when Snape released his shoulder, running a hand through his hair. "Thank you. Merlin, that was awful. Does it always feel like that?"
"Being cursed, once you're aware of your own magic?" Snape clarified. Harry nodded. "Not always to that degree — Dumbledore's spell was exceptionally powerful — but yes, it's always… uncomfortable. If you're that sensitive to it now, I suspect the headmaster won't be able to put so much as a light Tracking charm on you without you noticing."
Harry was glad for that, but he hoped he never had to experience it all the same. "Was it the same one as before?"
"I cannot be sure, as the goblins removed that before I had the chance to study it. But it was a powerful Compulsion charm designed to make you both reckless and extraordinarily trusting of the caster, so it's likely, yes."
"I felt like I just wanted to run up to the headmaster and tell him everything," Harry said with a shudder. He blinked, and there was a glass of water being pressed into his hands. He took it with a grateful smile at Snape, downing the cool liquid.
"It is… concerning that he felt the need to refresh the charm. Likely he thinks you're just shedding it as you grow older — not uncommon with adolescents, as their magic is constantly growing and changing."
Harry caught on to what Snape wasn't saying. "But it means he's starting to suspect I'm not under his thumb anymore."
The Potions Master nodded. "You'll have to be incredibly careful in the next few weeks. He will believe the charm is strongest — he may expect you to come to him, or to Weasley and Granger. It will look even more suspicious if you continue on as you have been."
Harry grimaced. "So I'll spend a few weeks playing good little Gryffindor, make up some things to tell them that'll have them believing I've given up all my secrets, and then…" He trailed off, unsure what came next. Keep pretending until Dumbledore was dead? How long was he supposed to keep up the charade?
"You only need last until the end of the school year," Snape assured him. "Even so, I think you can get away with avoiding Weasley and Granger before then, as long as you keep your public friendships to mostly Gryffindors. Dumbledore won't have done anything to change your personality too drastically — people would question if you suddenly refused to speak to the other champions, after being outwardly friendly to them for so long. Likely he just wants a little more insight into your private escapades."
It was a small mercy, but a mercy nonetheless. "I suppose we'd better figure out what I can tell him to get him off my back, then," he said with a shrug, pulling his password protected notebook out of his bag.
There had to be something he could let go of, to protect the secrets he really cared about.
.-.-.-.
About a week after the second task, Harry walked into the Great Hall to find all eyes on him — not unusual in itself, but the wave of whispers and giggles that broke out immediately after gave Harry a pretty good idea what might have happened. Harry sank into the empty seat between Neville and Ginny, raising an eyebrow at the redheaded girl. "What's the damage this time?" Ginny giggled, passing him a copy of Witch Weekly. He studied the magazine. "Not the Prophet?"
"This one isn't exactly Prophet material," Ginny told him, opening the magazine to a specific page. She seemed amused, so Harry figured it couldn't be too bad. Ron and Hermione sat on the bench opposite them, Hermione casting a disparaging look at the magazine.
"I can't believe you have a subscription to that rag, Ginny," she remarked. Ginny shrugged.
"Not all of it is garbage."
Harry was busy reading the article in question — which was definitely garbage.
'Harry Potter's Woes of the Heart
A boy like no other — but still suffering the trials of any teenage love affair. Deprived of love since the tragic demise of his parents, fourteen year-old Harry Potter found solace at Hogwarts; or so he thought. His steady girlfriend, muggleborn Hermione Granger, seems to have developed a taste for famous wizards.'
The article went on to express how Hermione had cruelly cheated on Harry with Viktor Krum, breaking Harry's heart shortly before the Yule Ball and sending him into Ginny's arms. "Oi, Gin, there's a quote here from you about me being a crap kisser," Harry pointed out, and the redhead snorted.
"Yeah, sorry about that. I told so many people, I suppose one of them went to Skeeter about it. At least she's excusing it as you being heartbroken and not just you being bad at snogging," she said with a supportive pat to the shoulder. "I'm sorry I can't be… 'the one you truly yearn to be with', by the way," she added, checking the article quote by learning over Harry's shoulder. "Clearly while I resemble your mother, it's not enough to tear your heart away from that harlot over there."
"I beg your pardon!" Hermione gasped when she realised Ginny was talking about her. Beside her, Ron went almost purple in the face. Harry tossed the magazine her way, watching her eyebrows rise into her hairline. "This is… where did she get all this?"
"Out of her arse, by the looks of it," Ginny mused. Neville snorted pumpkin juice from his nose.
"No, the bit about Viktor asking me to come to Bulgaria. That was right after he pulled me from the lake, there's no way she was around to hear it!" Hermione explained. Ron spluttered, grabbing the magazine to read it himself.
"He wants you to go to Bulgaria? Never felt this way about any other girl — don't tell me that's all real?"
Hermione nodded, blushing faintly. "That part is. Obviously the rest of it is drivel."
"I don't know, Granger," the soft drawl of Draco Malfoy cut through the air. "That bit about Potter being a terrible kisser probably isn't too far off the mark. I don't blame you for setting your sights higher. Positively Slytherin of you." The remark made Ron growl, and Hermione glare. Harry just snorted.
"At least I can improve my kissing skills," he said, meeting grey eyes with a devilish look. "Sadly I don't think there's anything you can do about being an utter prat."
"You'd have to find someone willing to help you improve, Potty," Draco taunted. Harry winked at him.
"Are you offering, Malfoy?" That made several people eavesdropping choke on whatever they were eating, while Ginny howled with laughter. Draco went bright red, turned on his heel and left. Harry's smirk widened.
"I can't believe you just propositioned Malfoy!" Hermione hissed. Harry shrugged.
"Made him leave, didn't it?" He couldn't wait to get Draco alone later; he would pay for that comment about Harry's kissing skills.
"Still. Gross, mate." Ron shuddered, making a face. Harry didn't react, even when Neville nudged him under the table, the tiniest grin on his lips. "This article is out of order, though. It makes Hermione look like some sort of… scarlet woman." Ron was blushing as he said it, and Hermione's lips pursed.
"Oh, come off it," Ginny argued. "No one with half a brain is going to believe this rubbish. I think it's hilarious, to be honest. Kudos to you, Hermione, for clearly being sexy enough to score two super famous wizards. Sorry I'm such an opportunistic slag that I sunk my claws into Harry as soon as you tossed him aside." Ron looked like he was going to have a stroke at the language coming from his baby sister's mouth.
"Quite frankly, I'm offended," George announced, dropping onto the bench on Ginny's other side, his twin following. "I spend way more time with Harry than Ginny does. Why can't I be the opportunistic slag?"
"You were too busy sucking face with Durmstrang boys, remember?" Harry pointed out. George pouted.
"Just the one Durmstrang boy, thank you!" he protested. "Who do you think I am, Hermione?" This was said with a wink towards the curly-haired girl, and actually startled a laugh out of her.
"I can't believe you're laughing about this," Ron muttered, scowling at his plate of eggs. Harry shrugged.
"The worst thing we can do is give it credibility by being upset about it. Best to just laugh and move on." No one whose opinion mattered would believe it, and it would die down quicker if they didn't let it get to them.
Ron didn't look convinced, and Hermione still didn't seem sure how to react to the whole thing, but then Ginny grabbed the magazine and started dramatically reading the best (rather, worst) bits, so Harry was too busy laughing to care.
.-.-.-.
It was hard, but Harry managed to escape Ron and Hermione long enough to get to the heirs' meeting a few days later. They were easing up on him a little, after he'd spun a tale about getting a letter from Sirius saying he was somewhere in Ireland, and also told them about seeing Mr Crouch on the map. Even Snape had been confused by that one, but agreed it was fairly harmless on the spectrum of secrets Harry was keeping, and would be a good measure of whether Ron and Hermione had told Dumbledore about the map. He hadn't said anything directly to Dumbledore yet, but that didn't seem to be bothering the headmaster, increasing Harry's suspicions that his two ex-best friends were spying on him. He felt sick every time he thought about it.
He was glad to be in a room full of people who hated the headmaster as much as he did, Susan squeezing his shoulder in sympathy when he told them all about Dumbledore's plot. "I can arrange for someone to hex Weasley if you'd like," Daphne volunteered. "Or Granger. I'm sure Pansy would jump at the opportunity."
"Not Malfoy?" Harry asked with a brow raised. Blaise, Daphne and Cassius shared a glance. Harry's stomach flipped. "What?"
"Draco has been acting… strange lately," Blaise admitted.
"Strange how?" Fear gripped Harry's heart — had Dumbledore got to Draco too? He hadn't thought to ask Snape to check him over.
"He isn't going on about how much he hates muggleborns, for one," Daphne drawled. "He's been positively nice to the first years. And he came with me when I went to study Arithmancy with Ernie and Terry Boot."
"It was a bit weird," Ernie piped up. "I kept expecting him to hex me, but he was surprisingly polite."
Harry's panic began to fade; Draco was just starting to lose his Lucius-Malfoy-clone persona. There were worse things to happen. He bit his lip, thinking; it wasn't his place to start sharing Draco's secrets, but… he could set the stage for things. "Maybe he's not as evil as we've always assumed."
Parvati laughed. "Nice one, Harry. As if you've not been fighting with him since the day you stepped foot in the castle."
"When was the last time you heard about me and Malfoy fighting? Actually fighting." They'd exchanged insults, but they hadn't raised wands at each other in weeks. He watched Parvati's face grow confused as she thought it over.
"I think we should trust Harry on this one, guys," Neville cut in supportively, his eyes knowing.
"What do you know that we don't?" Sullivan's tone was a mix of curious and suspicious, and Harry smirked.
"Daphne, Blaise, why don't you two bring Draco to our next meeting?" he suggested, noting the wide eyes when he used Draco's first name. "Parkinson and Bulstrode too, if you can convince them." Draco trusted the two girls, and insisted they didn't want to follow their parents' footsteps. They could probably do with knowing they weren't alone.
"You want us to bring three kids whose parents are Death Eaters to our top secret meeting on how to save the world once the Dark Lord is dead?" Blaise's voice was unimpressed. Harry nodded.
"Yeah, sounds about right. Not everyone is the same as their parents. Look at Cassius. No offence," he added to the older boy, who snorted.
"None taken, my father was a stain on the family tree and the rest aren't much better," he agreed freely.
"Exactly. So give them a chance, you might be surprised," Harry said. Not everyone in the room looked convinced, muttering to each other. Eventually, Susan cleared her throat.
"Look, guys, Harry wouldn't suggest it if he thought it would jeopardise anything we have here," she said confidently, before turning her hazel eyes on Harry. "You trust Draco Malfoy?"
"I do," he said firmly, ignoring the way several sets of eyebrows rose incredulously. "And he trusts Bulstrode and Parkinson. That's three heirs we could really do with having on our side."
"I still think you've lost it," Blaise muttered. "But alright, we'll bring them. On your head be it."
Harry grinned, even as his stomach churned at the prospect of bringing three more Slytherins into the fold. He was excited to connect Draco with the other heirs, but… the two girls might take a little convincing.
.-.-.-.
That night, when Harry snuck out to meet Draco, he told him about what he'd said to Blaise and the others. "So don't be surprised if you and Bulstrode and Parkinson get approached sometime next week," he finished, sitting back to let Draco process it all. The blond stared at him, his expression unreadable.
"You've never had a civil conversation with Pansy or Millie," Draco pointed out. Harry shrugged.
"I've done study group with Bulstrode a few times; she seems alright. And you trust them."
"That's good enough for you, is it?"
"Why shouldn't it be?"
Draco stared at Harry for a long moment, then leaned in to kiss him, lips curling in a reluctant smile. "Sodding Gryffindor," he muttered against Harry's mouth. "You're lucky I'm not taking advantage of you."
"Mm, feel free to take advantage of me whenever you like," Harry retorted cheekily. "I've a feeling I might enjoy it."
Draco rolled his eyes with a huff, nipping at Harry's lower lip. "Are we telling them about this, then?"
Harry leaned back, needing his head a little clearer for his next thought to form properly. "I think we can admit we're friends," he said slowly. "But not… anything more. I trust them, but they're keeping enough secrets for me as it is, and this is none of their business." He paused, wondering if he'd failed some sort of test. "Unless you want to tell them, of course?"
"I don't need a bunch of heirs nosing into my private life," Draco said haughtily. "It'll be bad enough if my father finds out I'm friends with you, let alone anything else." His expression softened. "Maybe in the future, when things are more dire. When I need to take a stand to be with you. But until then, we'll keep it quiet."
"I'd never make you take a stand to be with me," Harry insisted. "I just want you to be happy and safe."
"You really think I could be happy hiding in some safe-house while you get all the glory by facing the Dark Lord?" Draco retorted lightly, his silver eyes fixed intently on Harry, saying everything that wasn't coming out of his mouth. "I'm going to have to be open about my loyalties eventually. I'm not cut out to be a spy like Uncle Severus." He took Harry's hand in both of his, bringing it up to kiss the knuckles. "When the time comes, I will be by your side. Stopping your idiot Gryffindor arse from getting hexed to death before you can off the bastard."
Despite his derisive tone, his words took Harry's breath away. He almost responded by blurting out three little words it was definitely too soon for, but he held his tongue and just kissed him instead, trying to push everything he felt into the kiss. Draco groaned, pulling Harry closer and tangling his fingers in dark hair. Harry was pretty sure he got his point across.