Hola, guys. Merry belated Christmas. Hope yours was amazing. Mine wasn't too bad. Got lots of good books Also, hope you're having a good Holidays. Here it is, the second to last chapter of 4th year. Obviously, nowhere as long as the previous and this one went through so many edits because I wanted it to be perfect. Hopefully you love it.
Shoutout to mykkila09 for helping me out with this chapter. Kila, you are an awesome beta. If you guys haven't read her incredible story, Rise of the Dark Angel, YOU NEED TO. It's so fucking good, the chapters, the writing so addicting. You'll love it.
Chapter 39: All That Glitters Not Always Gold (Part 1)
He ended up staying at Dumbledore's office longer than he expected, much longer. Close to four hours. Harry only remembered bits and pieces of the meeting, words spilling from his mouth while his mind plunged into a numbing, chilling oblivion.
He told Dumbledore about his dreams, visions of Voldemort that came on a few days ago, along with the one he had the morning of the World Quidditch Tournament, adding in as many details as he could remember.
Dumbledore's eyes narrowed, either from disappointment that Harry waited till now to tell him or from suspicion. He analyzed the events closely, confirming Harry's suspicions that the visions were in fact connected to his entrance into Trizwizard Tournament.
Harry's mind was half-there. It was like his body was on autopilot, drinking cup after cup of lemon tea, inhaling stone after stone, adding in comments and questions. His mind, on the other hand, was miles, miles away. Still back at the courtroom at Karkaoff's trial, his words spinning around and around like a song on replay.
"I assure you! Severus Snape is a Death Eater!"
No matter how hard he tried to push those words away, how hard he tried to silence them, the song played on, growing louder and louder till it was a booming mantra in his head.
Severus Snape. His uncle, the man who had always watched over him, who pulled him away from his dead mother's hand and took him from that empty house, who raised him, was actually connected to Voldemort. Was a loyal follower to him, actually served him. The same man who's only sole desire was to make the world a mass of pain and destruction, who killed his parents without a second thought, who wanted to see him dead.
Close to ten cups of tea and Harry's body felt like ice coated his insides.
Towards the end of the meeting, he asked in a voice so low he could barely hear it himself "Sir…what Karkaoff said…about Severus. He said Sev-Snape was still loyal to Voldemort. Then you stood up and said he was a spy, your spy."
Dumbledore stared back at him with patient, unflinching eyes.
"What made you think he really stopped supporting Voldemort, Professor?"
Dumbledore held Harry's gaze for a few seconds, and then said, "That, Harry, is a matter between Professor Snape and myself."
Harry knew that the interview was over. Dumbledore didn't look angry, yet there was a finality in his tone that told Harry it was time to go. He stood up, and so did Dumbledore.
"Harry, I understand how confusing this must be for you. Overwhelming even. However, keep in mind that the truth is a beautiful, terrible thing that should be treated with upmost caution. One that carries many layers." He looked up, and the headmaster offered him a small smile. "Hardly anything is as it seems, my boy."
Nothing is as it seems. Those were almost the exact same words Sirius said, at the time a hunted fugitive with so much evidence pinning him to terrible crimes, pleading with Harry to believe him. That it wasn't all what it seemed.
Harry held onto his notion like his life depended on it. Throat dry, he jerked his head in a nod and walked over to the door.
"And Harry?"
He looked back. Dumbledore was standing over the Pensieve, his face lit from the beneath by its silvery spots of basin, looking older than ever. He stared at Harry for a moment, then said, "Good luck with the third task."
Harry left the office without saying another word, too tired to even offer a nod. He was so tired, as if all the lost sleep that were traded in for studying and practicing were finally catching up with him, like bulldozers plowing into him. He grabbed onto the nearest wall to keep himself steady.
He wanted sleep. At the moment, he wanted nothing more than to go back to his room, crawl under the covers, and sleep for the rest of the month. For the rest of the year.
His brain and his body, though, weren't on the same page. Brain begged sleep. Body moved, walking down to the dungeons but not to the Slytherin dormitories, instead taking a sharp left, moving down the hall to a room where Salazar Slytherin was posted on the door, watching him with narrowed, curious eyes.
"Half-blood prince." Harry mumbled.
The portrait swung open without another word and he walked in quietly. Harry found his uncle hunched over his desk, a stack of Potion essays by both sides. He was moving an ink-splattered essay over to the pile on the left when he heard footsteps. A snarl tipped through his clenched teeth, almost as if he expected it to be an house-elf pestering him or perhaps Karkaoff. Then the snarl morphed into a frown, the closest thing to a confused expression, as he took in the look on Harry's face.
Harry remembered the first time he ever saw Severus. Greasy, long black hair, a large hooked nose that looked it suffered a hard blow and never recovered, and an expression on his face, glinting in his black eyes, that promised a long and painful death if you as much breathed near his presence. The only time those eyes altered when they looked at his mum, changing from murderous to mournful, filled with so much pain that Harry was intrigued to learn more about it. Learn more about why he looked so sad, learn more about him. It took Harry nearly forever to push through those deadly eyes and the stone-cold exterior to understand that sadness, to understand him.
Looking at him now, Harry felt like he was starting over again, terrified from those unflinching black eyes.
"Harry."
He attempted to swallow down the lump that clogged his throat, burning away. His gaze dropped down to Severus's left sleeve. He didn't realize till now that he never saw that arm unclothed.
"Harry."
He tried swallowing down that lump again, only able to sink it down an inch before it grew, nearly blocking his airflow. "If I push up your sleeve, will I see it?"
A long, hard heartbeat later and then-"See what?"
Harry's eyes snapped back to Severus's that were hard and piercing. "See the same mark that's making Karkaoff so scared."
A glint went through those eyes as they narrowed into slits, a frown settling onto his face.
Harry took a step forward. He may be a Slytherin, his mind cunning and sharp, but he had the heart of a Gryffindor and Gryffindor never wasted time with subtly. "The Dark Mark?"
Severus stayed still in his chair, a near flawless statue, not blinking, not moving. That alone gave Harry a faint, desperate hope that this was all just a horrible dream unfolding in his head. That nothing he saw today, nothing he heard was real. Until Severus flinched, breaking his gaze, grasping onto his left arm that was shaking on the desk, almost as if he were burnt.
Seeing that gesture sparked a memory in Harry's head. Severus grasping onto his left wrist when Moody was egging him on, saying how certain leopards don't change their spots.
Or break ties to their master.
Harry took a step back, then another, and another until he was on the other side of the room, practically barricaded against the door. Severus slowly rose from his chair, and Harry took another step back.
"Harry-"
Realization jabbed into him like a poisoned dagger, the venom spreading through his veins. "That's how you knew."
"I-"
"Halloween night," Harry croaked. "You always said…y-you told me that a gut feeling is what brought you over to my house. A feeling that let you knew something horrible had happened. But you already knew something horrible happened because you knew of Voldemort's plans. You were in on them. You knew he was after my parents, after me. You knew that he wanted to see us all dead. You knew!"
Severus glared back at the floor as if he were watching his past self relive every stupid mistake he ever made, some that were horrible, some unfortunate, some that were just downright unforgivable.
"Why?!" It was like a monster was crawling inside Harry's body, gripping onto his throat, stinging his eyes. A monster feeding off his pain, the anguish, the anger running inside him, growing stronger with each passing moment.
"Harry-"
"Did you honestly despise Muggles that much? Do you think Muggle-borns are ants that should be stomped on? Did you hate my dad that much, that you wanted him dead?!"
Severus closed his eyes, a tight scowl slashing across his face. He gripped onto the forearm of his chair so tightly; Harry could hear the wood cracking from where he stood.
His grip, however, wasn't as tight as Harry's fists were, clenched to his sides. The hold on that chair nowhere near as strong as the thick, heavy Potions textbook that hurled from the high bookshelf from the sharp intake of Harry's breath over to where Severus stood, narrowing missing his head by an inch, slamming so hard against the wall a deep dent was created. The spine cracked from the impact, pages and loose binding fluttering out as it landed on the floor.
If Severus was surprised, he didn't show it. He released his hand from the squeezed armrest and rested it by his side, staring at Harry.
His mind was screaming at him to run, to draw his wand. But Harry forced himself to remain still and listen for his own sake, for his parents' sake, fighting against the eye-stinging, throat-clenching monster seething underneath his skin. He forced himself to focus not only on Karkaoff's words, but on Dumbledore's from the memory, speaking in Severus's defense and saying he was his spy. What present-Dumbledore said about the truth carrying many layers and not always being clear-cut as it appeared. How Sirius told Harry the exact same thing when he was on the run, accused of a horrible crime, begging him to learn more than one side of the story.
"One of the many things I greatly argued about with your mother, along with Narcissa, is my preference of not holding back," Severus said. "There are certain things they felt were better saved for later or to be left in the dark altogether. They believe keeping the truth would protect you two. I disagreed. I still do." His black eyes glinted. "No matter how painful the truth may be, how hard it may be to hear it, it must be heard. Shielding or sugarcoating it does nothing except make the truth hurt that much more when it's known. I never shielded you or Draco away from it. And this is one truth…that will be hard to hear. Hard to understand, but you need to know it."
Harry unclenched his fists when he felt his muscles aching, magic buzzing through his fingertips, building up inside him like lightening brewing inside a dark cloud. "Then tell me."
Severus took one look at him and shook his head. "Not yet, not when you already have too much to deal with. But I do intend to tell you the truth-the whole truth."
"When?"
"Soon." Not a feeble word but a promise.
Too many questions were building inside Harry, clawing up his throat, wanting to be voiced out. Why did Severus serve Voldemort in the first place? What made the Dark side so appealing to him? What made him switch sides? How long ago did he make the switch? Harry bit his lip hard to keep the questions in and keep himself under control. He needed answers, but at the moment he needed sleep even more. He needed to get away from here. Still, there was one question he needed to ask. One he needed to know.
"Who are you loyal to, Severus? Really?"
Just like he always had, Severus didn't hold back. "The side I know will win."
He stared at Harry intently, letting his words sink in.
On shaky knees, Harry turned over to the door, but before he could leave, Severus called his name.
"I always told you and Draco to always follow your instincts. I never meant it as a meaningless sentiment, but as a warning. One I learnt the hard way. The one time I chose not to follow my instincts, I made a choice, a terrible choice. By the time I realized the mistake I made, it was too late." Harry heard a step behind him but didn't turn around. "I tried to make up for that mistake by doing what's right. But in the end, it wasn't enough. I ended up losing someone I cared about,"
Mum. If there was one person Severus cared about more anything else, it was her. Harry remembered the way he used to look at her, so much tenderness wrapped around so much regret in his eyes. The way Severus howled-actually howled- like a wild animal when he saw her motionless body on the ground, pale and cold, covered in so much blood.
"And almost lost another that I care about."
He could feel those black eyes focused on the back on his head, but Harry didn't know what to say. He didn't know what to think, so he slipped out the door without saying another word.
Severus watched him leave, doing nothing to stop him, knowing that what the boy needed right now was space; space to deal with the revelation he had just suffered. When the door closed firmly behind Harry, for the first time in a long time, seven years too long, Severus lost a bit of his composure.
He grabbed an inkwell from his desk and threw it at the wall, watching impassively as it shattered, globs of black painting the wall, dripping onto the floor.
Harry had no idea how he made it back to his room. He blindly speeded over to the Slytherin dorms, feeling the suffocating monster weighting down on his body like an elephant, mounted right on his chest, slowly but surely crushing him into a pulp. He remembered seeing Draco lounging in the common room with Blaise, the two of them startled by the look on his face that must have been quite a sight. He could make the sounds of Draco casting charms, maybe silencing or locking spells on the door. He could hear his name being called over and over again.
But everything was out of focus; everything was dull and cold. The monster taking over his body, squeezing his chest changed into an iced mastodon, digging Harry into the ground with its heavy feet.
"Harry! Harry! Talk to me!"
It was so amazing how numb a body could become when the heart began to crash. How slow the crushing process was itself, like an ice-cold fist was holding the organ, squeezing inch by inch, deeply burying their sharp nails into it, making sure every throbbing ache was felt, every squeeze was accounted for.
"Godfuckingdamnit! Potter, talk to me! Are you alright? Are you okay? Say something, damn it! Look at me!"
What was he even looking at? It looked like it was their fireplace, but Harry couldn't tell. The orange flames from the fire were disoriented from the heavy sheer filling his eyes.
He felt hands on his face, titling back his head, running all over his cheeks. Then he felt those same hands grasping onto his shoulders and holding onto him tight, telling him he wouldn't go into the darkness alone, asking over and over if he was alright.
It was a silly question really. Of course, he was alright. He was fine. He was perfectly fine. He was just….fi…
Harry couldn't even finish the thought before his whole world dissolved in a flood of searing-hot tears.
~…~
Draco's rhythm didn't falter once as he rocked him back and forth in his arms, almost as if Harry was a child in his care. He held onto him tightly as his crying broke into hard weeping, not even caring that his robes was at the mercy of Harry's tears and snot. He then stroked Harry's hair gently when his weeping reduced to silent tears that ran down his cheeks.
It was then, in a quiet, cracked voice that was rusty from all his crying, Harry told Draco what happened. He told him everything that happened in Dumbledore's office, what the Pensieve showed him, the trials from Karkaoff proclaiming Severus was still a Death Eater to Crouch Jr. being dragged away by the dementors, pleading with his father that he was innocent. Then Harry went on to recount what took place in Severus's chambers: the lack of denial to Harry's accusations, Severus grabbing onto his arm as if he's been shocked, how Harry's magical flying book narrowly missed Severus's head, and Severus's parting words before he left.
During that time, Draco listened attentive, his rocking rhythm never waning even when Harry sensed shock of Severus's alleged crime slamming into his body, coiling in his bones. Draco voiced his shock, his disbelief in Dumbledore and his memories, but for the most part remained quiet. When Harry was finally done talking what felt like hours later, he slumped against Draco's chest as if he were boneless, all his energy completely wiped out. Draco rocked him back and forth, and then took back his hand to rest his head on top of Harry's hair.
"What makes you so sure the memory was even real?" Draco asked. "For all we know Dumbledore could have altered it. After all, the man has to be over a thousand years old. His brain could have made it up."
Harry shook his head. "That's the whole point of Pensieve. It shows one their memories-their true memories. Also, Dumbledore has no reason to lie to me. He just looked at me and I got my answer."
"And Severus?"
Harry curled himself onto Draco's chest, burying his face in his friend's mostly-dry clothes. "He didn't even try to deny it."
"I still don't believe it." Draco stated. "I won't. Severus. A Death Eater. It's like-like…finding out Father was one."
Harry shared Draco's disbelief. Severus was one of the strongest, sharp-minded men he knew. He couldn't see him bowing down to Voldemort, obeying his every wish and whim like a puppet. But there was no denying the look of utter defeat in Severus's eyes when Harry flung the accusations at him and gained no protest.
Silence hung between the friends for a few more minutes until Draco broke through it, saying, "There's something else that's bothering me."
"What's that?"
"Did you actually throw a book at Severus?"
"I didn't throw it. My magic did. It was a react-wait a minute." Draco's question sank in. Harry glanced up at him. "Out of everything I just told you, that's what you're most curious about."
"Oh trust me, I'm plenty shocked by what you just told me. My mind is still trying to digest it all." The glaze of astonishment in his eyes confirmed it. Draco shook his head. "I'm trying to work out how you're still alive and breathing, Potter, after pulling a stunt like that. Anyone else, especially a Gyffindork, would be buried six feet deep as we speak."
Harry knew Draco was trying to distract him, and it almost worked. He could feel the faint touch of a smile brushing against the corner of his mouth. But the would-have-been smile died before it had a chance to grow when it occurred to Harry Severus was most likely too shocked from having the truth thrown at his face to notice the book. "Guess his mind was somewhere else."
Draco's rocking finally faltered, as did his smile. He bit his lip and looked away, the shock plastered on his face darkening to troubling thoughtfulness. Harry sighed, closing his eyes.
If his thoughts were pounds, they'd weigh over a hundred thousand. His head would have plunge through the floor from the heavy load. It felt like it was going any second.
He then felt Draco untie his arms and move away from him. Curious, Harry opened his eyes to find Draco standing in front of him, a hand stretched out. "Come on," he said.
"Where?"
"The sooner you get your arse up, the sooner you'll find out."
Rolling his still-puffy, red-rimmed eyes, Harry accepted his hand and got up.
Draco's surprise turned out to be a long, cold trip to a spacious area in the woods, close by the lake. The brutal winter that coated the woods almost seemed like a distant memory, all traces of snow wiped away, but the freezing air remained, blowing strong gushes of wind that seeped through Harry's sweatshirt. Stars dotted the inky-blue sky, shining like shards of broken diamonds, keeping the night from being fully dark.
"You mind telling me what we're doing here?" Harry asked, gaze sweeping across the area. The tree leaves ruffled from the light breeze.
"Think fast." Draco said. Harry barely had time to blink before something long and heavy was hurled his way. A second later and a few inches higher, the object would have hit Harry's face instead of his hands that were stinging from the catch.
Biting back a curse, Harry examined it. It was a broom, an early model like the ones Madame Hooch had them practice on for flying lessons first year.
He looked up to find Draco leaning against his own broom, a smirk curling his mouth. Harry's mind went to back to the flying incident that happened when they were six, Draco dragging him out of bed for a late-night flight. "Up for a game?" Draco asked.
"Here? Now?"
"No, Potter, the year 2020. I thought we'd just cuddle up with the brooms and watch the stars."
Smart-arse. "Do you even have a snitch?"
Draco walked over to him and cupped his left cheek, slowly stroking his skin, staring so intently into Harry's eyes like he did in the mirror dream. He leaned in close, brushing his finger against Harry's lower lip. Harry's breathing hitched-
Then Draco snatched his glasses off his face.
"Hey!"
"Now I do!" Draco winked and soared into the sky.
Growling, Harry hitched onto his broom and kicked off, sending himself high into the air.
The game started off as a glasses-substitute Quidditch game, in which a mostly-blind Harry managed to claim back his prize and threw a solid punch at Draco's arm while zooming past him. Then they called a new match with an actual golden snitch Draco had tucked away in his pocket. Soon the snitch was forgotten about with the boys going from chasing the tiny ball to chasing each other, engaging in a fierce but fun game of air-tag. Then it just became a round of flying itself.
Harry hadn't realized how much he missed flying until he was back on a broom. He may have used the Firebolt during the first task, but that was different. For one, no crazy, hundred-feet dragon was trying to kill him. Second, it was just nice being so high up, where everything was so open and felt clear as the night sky. Soaring through the air, feeling the wind kissing his face, whipping his hair made his problems seem like they were miles away.
Two hours later, he was laid across the soft green grass, flustered and sweaty, the breeze cooling him off, gazing up at the sky.
"Thanks." Harry whispered.
Draco smiled, lying beside him. "No problem," His smile then vanished, his bottom lip caught between his teeth. "Can I ask you something?"
Harry glanced up at him. "What?"
"What are you going to do about Severus?"
Harry sucked in the cool air and let it out slowly. "I don't know."
Draco drew figure-eights across Harry's chest, seemingly obvious to Harry's heartbeat pounding hard underneath. "Remember what happened the last time someone thought Severus was up to no good?"
Harry nodded. First year, when Harry and his friends were running around to learn more about the Philosopher's Stone, Hermione thought Severus was the culprit. The accusation wasn't exactly a stretch given the way he acted so strangely that year, like he was hiding something, and the fact he was murmuring a spell during the time Harry's broom was messing up during his first Quidditch match. As it turned out, Severus was actually protecting the stone just as he was protecting Harry from getting hurt by the real culprit.
Like he was always protecting Harry.
That was the needle branch Harry was grasping onto for dear life to keep from falling into the rabbit hole, one that lined the two battling sides raging on in his head.
Draco moved closer to Harry. "Do you trust Dumbledore?"
That was a good question, one that required Harry to think long and hard about it. "I trust…that he's a brilliant wizard."
Draco didn't bother keeping in his snort.
Harry continued on, "I trust what he said, at least in the Pensieve. Why would he stick up for Severus and say he's innocent if he didn't believe that?"
There was also the pain in Severus's eyes when he brought up Mum, recounting his failure in protecting her, his fear of failing Harry, all leading back to bad choices and ignoring instincts.
"What about Severus?" Draco questioned. "Do you trust him?"
Another good question. Harry thought back on it. One side of him was too stuck on Karkaoff's words, painting images of the dark mark inked on Severus's forearm, his face concealed by the sterling silver mask, turning a blind eye to the pain going around by him, having an hand in causing that same pain. Another part of him refused to give in, reminding Harry of how Severus was trusted by his mum to care for him, how the man did exactly that and more. That same part that recalled thousands of memories of Severus protecting him, watching out for him, holding onto him and letting him cry when memories of Halloween night were too much to handle, scolding him when he screwed up, quietly encouraging him with a rare nod or smile. Being not only a reliable, trust-worthy uncle, but becoming a father to Harry.
There was a reason, the believing side whispered, you went to him. A reason you decided to hear him out.
Harry swallowed the lump forming in his throat.
Sirius was caught in a similar situation where the truth seemed so obvious but still he pleaded to Harry that there was more to the story, which was why Harry went over to Severus's chambers, hoping onto hope that was more than one side to his. Remus was caught in a lie, hiding a horrific secret he kept under lock and key for years, delaying in telling the truth because he knew the outcome wouldn't be pretty, and then came clean when the secret was let out, not holding anything back. Which was Harry stayed, wanting to hear Severus's reasons for not only serving the Dark Lord but why he didn't tell him the truth early on.
Severus said he would tell the truth, the whole truth later on, warning that it would be hard for Harry to hear. Harry wondered if he would even survive hearing it or if the truth would crush the opposing side still clinging onto hope of Severus's innocence.
"At the moment," Harry confessed. "I don't know. To be honest, I don't know anything anymore."
Draco placed his hand against Harry's cheek and directed Harry's attention over to him. Draco's gaze was warm, soothing. "You know me. You know you can trust me."
"Always." Harry placed a hand over Draco's.
Draco leaned in close to press a soft kiss against Harry's forehead.
I love you. The words burnt in his throat.
The morning of the third task was almost similar to that of the first task with the excitement/anxiety high in the air, breakfast being carried out with a buffet of food, and Harry's stomach being tied into a thousand tight knots. The difference between the two was the fact the task would take place later on tonight, which gave Champions more time to prepare. Another was the fact it was in the happening right in the middle of finals week, which had to the toughest finals week yet, with him juggling between practicing for the tasks, gathering and rewriting his notes, keeping up with study groups, trying not fall asleep on his notes after finishing another inhalation of notes for a different final. It was one of the reasons Harry was so anxious this morning, his brain barely recovering from the grueling Charms exam he took yesterday and trying to remember all that would be on the History of Magic's one for tomorrow.
"Do you think Binn's may ask us about the rise of Obscurials in the 1940s?" Ron asked.
"Maybe," Harry muttered. "I think that was one of the topics he starred in the study guide."
"Bloody hell!" Ron smacked his hand against his forehead. "The one class I fell asleep in. And Hermione has the notes."
She had run off a few minutes ago after the latest article of the Daily Prophet came in, muttering to herself with a mad glint in her eye.
Professor McGonagall came walking alongside the Gryffindor table toward them. "Potter, the champions are congregating in the chamber off the Hall after breakfast. "
"But the task's not till tonight!" said Harry, accidently spilling scrambled eggs down his front, afraid he had mistaken the time.
"I'm aware of that, Potter," she said. "The champions' families are invited to watch the final task, you know. This is simply a chance for you to greet them."
She moved away. Harry dropped his forehead onto his hand, groaning.
"Wouldn't it be a hoot if they invited the Dursleys down here and they actually showed?" Ron asked.
Oh yeah, a real hoot. The idea of his estranged, magic-hating relatives coming down to actually support him after seven years of total radio silence was just about as likely to happen as Theo burning down his entire library. With Hermione dancing in the burnt ashes.
It was strange though that McGonagall was the one to deliver the news. Usually that responsibility fell onto the Head of house. Harry glanced over at the staff table. Severus pulled away from his conversation from Madame Hooch to look over at him, quickly redirecting his glance.
Oh, that's why.
And that was another reason why Harry was so anxious. Severus hadn't approached him since that night in his chambers, hardly said a word to him other than stating the instructions for their Potions final, emphasizing one missed step would cost five points. He was clearly giving Harry space to think things over, but it's been days since that painful conversation and Harry was just as confused as ever, going back and forth between believing that Severus was innocent and falling back on the fact he was connected to the psychotic monster who killed his parents. And wondering if Severus still believed in what Voldemort stood for.
"Come on, they're waiting for you!" Cedric cried.
Harry pushed aside his half-empty place and got up. He walked across the Hall and opened the door into the chamber.
Cedric and his parents were just inside the door. Viktor was over in a corner, conversing with his dark-haired mother and father in rapid Bulgarian. From the looks of it, he definitely inherited his father's hooked nose. On the other side of the room, Fleur was jabbering away in French to her mother. Fleur's little sister, Gabrielle, was holding her mother's hand. She waved at Harry, who waved back, grinning. Then he saw Draco smirking at him, standing next to Aunt Cissa with Sirius and Remus standing a few inches away.
"Who were expecting, Potter?" Draco teased. "The tooth fairy."
"Har-bloody-har." Harry said, but he couldn't stop his mouth from smiling broadly as he walked over to them.
Aunt Cissa opened her arms and he stepped into them easily, his nerves instantly soothed from her familiar floral scent that hadn't changed at all over the years. She dropped a soft kiss on his brow, holding him tight.
"My dear boy." She said. "Let me look at you." She released Harry from her hold and tilted up his head, examining him. "You still don't fix your hair."
Draco barely held onto his bark of laughter. Harry shot him a dark glare, then looked back at her. It was surprising how son and mother were here for him but not the father. "Where's Uncle?"
Laughter cleared from Draco's eyes, narrowing a bit as he looked at his mother. "Yes, that's a good question. Where is he?"
Aunt Cissa gave an apologetic smile. "I'm afraid, boys, he was called away on business. Some last-minute meeting."
Draco huffed. "But I wanted to ask him if he gotten my letter."
Letter? Harry asked him through his gaze. What letter?
Oh, Draco's eyes said as he gave a casual shrug. Just the letter I sent last week asking him about Severus.
Harry's agape mouth was almost as big as his bugged out eyes. You asked him about Sev-
Harry's silent question was cut off as he was hauled off his feet by Sirius who came behind and spun him around and around till room was one colorful blur.
"Lucky for you, kiddo," Sirius said. "You got me and Moony."
"Sirius, put him down!" Remus ordered.
"Yes, Daddy." Ignoring Remus's stammering, Sirius plucked Harry back down. If it wasn't for Remus's quick hands, Harry would have tumbled to the floor.
"Harry!"
He turned around to see Mrs. Weasley and Bill walking over to him. Mrs. Weasley scooped up him into a tight hug.
"Hi," he replied, the word coming on in a wheeze. "What are you guys doing here?"
Bill smiled at him. "Supporting you of course. Technically we aren't suppose to be here till way later, but we came early and dear Mum," He nudged her playfully. "thought it'd be fun to sneak in here."
Sirius whispered lowly, approval shining in his eyes. "A late rebel? I like it."
Mrs. Weasley blushed from the praise and smiled at Harry. "We just wanted to congratulate you on a job well-done, dear. You've been doing so well."
The scowl curling Aunt Cissa's mouth was a perfect match to Draco's. "How sweet."
Mrs. Weasley was taken back from the dry, chilled tone, moving a step back. Sirius swooped in and slung an arm around her shoulders. "Forgive my cousin, Molly. Anytime she's near someone with a decent personality and a live, beating heart, she breaks out into hives." He shuddered. "Not a pretty sight."
The glare in Aunt's Cissa said there were over two hundred parts in Sirius she'd be more than happy to break.
"Anyway," Bill said, standing a bit protectively in front of his mother. "The rest of the family is with Fred and George. Got themselves a bit into trouble-again." He rolled his ways in a what can you do kind of manner. "Well, except for Charlie. He wanted to come but he couldn't get time off. He said you were incredible against the Horntail."
Fleur, Harry noticed, was eyeing Bill with great interest over her mother's shoulder. Harry could tell she had no objection whatsoever to long hair or earrings with fangs on them.
"I have an idea." Remus smiled. "Pup, how about you and Draco give us a tour around the school?"
"I'm all for it." Sirius agreed. "I want to see if all our detention-avoiding escape routes are still here."
"Not to mention," Draco muttered, linking his arm through Harry's. "Give us a chance to get rid of the riffraff." He glared at the Weasleys.
Harry rolled his eyes but moved a bit closer to Draco, receiving a warm smile that was easily returned. Sirius watched them with a suspicious-looking, amused glint in his eyes. When he saw he had Harry's full attention, he drew a line against his throat with his finger.
"Broken heart," he mouthed. "Severed head on stick."
Oh bother. Harry turned around, warmth spreading to his cheeks. He was grateful Draco wasn't paying attention to Sirius's antics, already leading them to the door. As they passed Amos Diggory, he looked around.
"There are you, are you?" He examined Harry from head to toe, hardly impressed by what he saw. "Bet you're not feeling quite full of yourself now Cedric's caught you up on points, are you?"
"What?" Harry asked, baffled.
"Ignore him," said Cedric in a low voice to Harry, frowning after his father. "He's been angry ever since Rita Skeeter's article about the Trizwizard Tournament-you know, when she made out you were the only Hogwarts champion."
"Didn't bother to correct her, did he?" Mr. Diggory protested.
Sirius gave the man a pleasantly-dark smile. "I'd be careful where you shot the venom, Amos. Skeeter learned the hard way that the critics carry quite a bite." He bared his teeth.
Mr. Diggory flinched, flustered. Harry couldn't help but smile. Somehow, word had leaked about Harry's visions of Voldemort, which fell onto Skeeter's lap. She who wasted no time running the story, portraying Harry as not only a delusional, arrogant competitor but one whose mental stability should be checked out. Less than an hour later, another story poured from the Daily Prophet, only this time it was of their star reporter herself, mouth formed into a big O as she darted around the Diagon Alley with a black dog whose teeth were deeply embedded in her arse, grinning madly at the camera while revealing an unwanted patch of Skeeter's lacy purple thong.
Mr. Diggory skidded away, as if the dog was about to pounce on him any second. Harry covered his mouth to hold his chuckle, grinning at Sirius who shot him a sly wink.
Harry wound up having a good day walking around the school grounds with his family. Not much had really changed from the time his aunt, Sirius, and Remus were in school; even less had changed since Remus taught here. But still, they were pleasantly surprised by all the things they remembered from their Hogwarts days that were still there. Aunt Cissa was amused when she found out Sir Cadogan was still around, torturing students with his riddles and duel challenges. Sirius couldn't keep the smirk off his face when he saw the Whomping Willow, clearly remembering their interesting night third year. Remus entertained them with stories of the best schemes and mishaps pulled by the Marauders, pointing to the spots where a backfired spell flung Sirius into the lake, where Dad hung upside down ten feet in the air with his trousers pulled down to his ankles.
Later on, they returned at the Great Hall for an evening feast, though frowns pulled at Aunt Cissa's and Draco's faces when the Wealseys joined them. Then a frown twisted Mrs. Weasley face when Hermione came over to the table.
"Hello, Hermione," said Mrs. Weasley, much more stiffly than usual.
"Hello," said Hermione, her smile faltering at the cold expression on Mrs. Weasley's face.
Harry looked between them, then said, "Mrs. Weasley, you don't actually believe that rubbish Rita Skeeter wrote in Daily Prophet, did you? Because Hermione's not my girlfriend."
"Oh!" said Mrs. Weasley. "No-of course I don't!"
She became considerably warmer toward Hermione after that. Draco rolled his eyes, but Harry noticed his mood brightened from Harry's words.
Ludo Bagman and Cornelius Fudge had joined the staff at their table. Bagman looked quite cheerful, but Fudge, who was sitting next to Madame Maxine, looked stern and kept to himself. Madame was concentrating on her plate, and Harry thought her eyes looked red. Hagrid kept glancing along the table at her.
There were more courses than usual, but Harry, who was starting to feel nervous again, didn't eat much. As the enchanted ceiling overheard began to fade from blue to dusky purple, Dumbledore rose to his feet at the staff table, and silence fell.
"Ladies and gentleman, in five minutes' time, I will be asking you to make your way down to the Quidditch field for the third and final task of the Trizwizard Tournament. Will the Champions please follow Mr. Bagman down to the stadium now."
Harry got up. He started to feel a bit better when he felt Draco stood from his seat and stood beside him, his hand slipping through Harry's. He let out a relieved sigh and received a firm squeeze in return. Most of the school, especially the Slytherins, applauded for him. Sirius placed his fingers underneath his tongue and blew hard, releasing rounds of loud whistles that heightened the crowd's excitement. Remus gave him a thumbs-up while Aunt Cissa gave a smile that carried the warmth of a thousand hugs. Hermione and the rest of the Wealseys wished him good luck. He and Draco headed out of the Great Hall with Cedric, Fleur, and Viktor.
The elder Champions followed Bagman through the Quidditch field into the huge tent. At the last minute, Harry, feeling a prick of bravery running through his body, directed himself and Draco over to the back of one of the benches, making sure they were hidden from sight. He added a cloaking spell, along with a silencing one, to make sure eavesdroppers wouldn't interrupt them.
"Last I checked, Potter, the third task is happening that way." Draco jerked his thumb over to the tent, where he could see the rest of the champions gearing up.
"I know." Harry said with a shrug. "I suppose I just wanted to savor the sight of you actually above ground-and dry."
His words earned him a nasty glare from Draco. "Keep it up, Potter, and you'll be seeing the merpeople a lot sooner than you think."
Harry smiled at him, unfazed by the threat. Draco was annoyed, but couldn't rid himself of the smile that took hold of his mouth, turning the corners up.
Harry only looked away when the warmth quivering in his chest became too much, feeling it spread to his face. Sheepishly, rubbing the back of his neck, he said, "I just…wanted to say…thanks."
Draco's brow rose questioningly. "For what?"
"Just…" For holding him onto tight when he broke down, the news over Severus too much to handle. For putting up him preparing for the tasks and practicing the spells until he was sure he was fine. For believing in him since the beginning of the Tournament. "For being such a really great friend."
A strange look crossed Draco's eyes, disappearing as quickly it appeared before Harry had time to analyze. The left corner of his mouth rose as he responded with a shrug, "An excruciating job but someone's got to do it. I was simply chosen as the unwilling tribute."
Harry glared playfully at him. "Prat."
"Git." Amusement sparked in Draco's eyes.
A warning whistle went off, calling everyone to their seats-and Harry to his place. Draco shot him a smile and was about go, until Harry drew him back with a gentle tug of his arm.
"Yes?" he inquired, not pulling away.
Harry opened his mouth but no sound came out, the sheer warmth in Draco's eyes so few got to see, his undeniable beauty striking him like a Crucio. The first time he ever met Draco, he thought the boy was a prince that stepped out of the pages of a storybook. He could now see how his prince grew into a king, a beautiful strong king.
Heart pounding loudly, Harry brushed away strands of corn-silk hair from his gray eyes, then his hand dropped to Draco's cheek, stroking his skin gently. He closed the distance between them, his lips falling gently onto Draco's, shivering from the righteous warmth that lit inside his heart like a match.
Slow, soft, burning every vein in his body.
Then completely changed as Draco pushed into him, and Harry's back slammed against the back of the bench. He could feel pain tingling along his spine from the hard impact, but it faded away to complete insignificance as their tongues came out to dance, the spark in his chest growing to a vast firestorm.
Their kisses soft yet deep, slow and fast, fierce and passionate, tongues catching every delicious ember dripping from their lips that craved more-needed more. A moan, one of many, ripped through Harry's throat as Draco's lips were ripped from him, giving Harry a chance to eat his oxygen-derived lungs, and inserted themselves onto his neck, coating his skin with kisses and nips and bites that added heat to the fire stirring in his body, licking the pit of his stomach.
Harry's hands sought shelter underneath Draco's shirt, his nails drawing lines against the boy's bare back. That made Draco hungrier, digging his teeth deep into Harry's skin, leaving a mark. His lips were back on Harry's before he could blink, liquefying everything, his bones, his organs, his cells into molten lava with his greedy mouth that tore him apart in every stroke and caress.
Harry finally pulled back when the need for air became too much. He eased his breath away, gulping down breaths of air.
A whistle went on in the field, warning two minutes till the third task-and for Harry to get out there.
Draco's eyes, the blazing silver slowly dimming back to gray, watched Harry carefully as he straightened himself out before he worked on his own appearance. The whistle went out for a second time, blaring a bit longer.
Draco looked over his shoulder, wearing a soft, almost-unsure smile. Harry walked over to him, took Draco's hands in his, and smiled up at him, the maddening and overwhelming emotions he felt after the second task filling his chest.
"After the task," he told his best friend. "There's something important I need to tell you."
Draco's gaze dropped to their joint hands, then went back up to Harry's gaze, staring intently into them as if he was searching an answer for his question. He seemed to find his answer given the way his smile brightened a fraction. "I'll be waiting at the finish line."
Harry nodded, peeled his hands away from Draco's, and made his way over the tent. He stopped mid-step when he heard his name being called.
He looked over his shoulder at Draco. "Potter," he said. "You better come back in one piece."
"I will," Harry swore. "I promise."
Draco crossed his arms and let out a sigh, relieved. He jerked his head towards the field. "Better get going then."
I love you. The words burnt in Harry's throat, stirring in his tongue.
But as soon as he made it through the final task, as soon as he done with the tournament, he'd finally say them.
