Series: Minor Arcana. Sequel to "Declaro" (rating R). You really need to read that first. Find it through the author link @ ff.net or skyehawke.com.
Rating: This section PG-13 (R overall)
Pairings: This chapter – elements of SS/DM, HP/DM, SS/HP, RW/HG.
Notes: Thanks to the people who pointed out that I'd put Sinistra as Head of Ravenclaw rather than Flitwick. Thanks for keeping an eye out for my mistakes as I don't have a beta reader for this series, and as the 16/17 debacle proves I can certainly make such errors even when I think I'm being careful. KoP should have had a note that said something like "In canon, the Head of Ravenclaw is Flitwick, but part of this story needs Flitwick to have been replaced by Sinistra. You do find out why, but not in this chapter, where I wanted to make it clear that this change is not treated as anything spectacular or contentious by either staff or students." Perhaps I'll add a thought to Harry's narration comparing what Flitwick might have been like in that situation – hmm, that's a good idea, it'll go in the revised version.
Disclaimer: J.K. Rowling.
Archiving: Only where I've agreed.
Feedback/Reviews: Definitely – especially to tell me what works and what doesn't.
Dedication: Chapter 4 is for xikum, whose feedback has helped me keep writing.
HERMIONE:
I've got half an eye out for Ron and Harry while trying to avoid seeing Seamus and Dean at all, though I can hear them still competing over how many sausages they can eat. It's just frightful to think someone's going to let them apparate by this time next year. I've entirely given up hope that the Rite would raise the standard of maturity just a little. Most of my attention, however, is on An Index to Wizarding Bonds.
If you were going to pick a now defunct wizarding ritual to highlight the pleasure and power of tradition – neatly representing Muggles as uncultured oafs by the way – then I've got to concede you would choose the Rite of Engagement. Forget that it makes a kind of party game out of inescapably binding contracts, from a distance it looks headily romantic and practical at once. Except when it's undermining everything in your life. I can feel the pity and taste the gossip.
As most of the senior students leave I catch Ginny looking at me. She's been very tense with me, barely speaking. She thinks it was my responsibility to know better too, after all Ron's just a headstrong carelessly passionate Weasley boy, and we're not supposed to care when they blow up the kitchen, dye our hair purple, or control our spell-casting abilities, because they didn't mean any harm. I admire Ginny's loyalty, but her prejudice is bloody irritating. Sigh, and now I sound like Ron.
I finally see them arriving, past a huddle of Hufflepuffs, just as a fan of owls – I wonder is every group of owls a parliament, or only when they're roosting – comes in through the upper windows specially designed for them. There's perhaps a dozen, all trailing sparkling and multi-coloured streamers and ribbons. Ron gives me his can-you-believe-it smile across the room.
I am still angry with him; I can't imagine not being angry with him until the bond is broken or can be breached. But Mr Weasley said he was so unhappy, and I know he must be. I've only seen him in classes, where he's always quiet, and always looking at me. They were so apologetic, and poor Mr Weasley, you'd think he'd done it himself. I can appreciate Ron's smile, then, because I know he must be working at it. I move my books and tea to an empty part of the table where they can join me. Some more settings materialise as I do, so I guess it's not as late as I thought.
Ron and Harry are blocked by departing students who stop, of course, to watch the owls, one or two of which swerve off towards where they stand. Poor Harry.
* * *
DRACO:
Part of me dreads the gifts, yet another spectacle of Malfoy privilege and centrality, but one which makes it clear that I am not Malfoy, I am merely his accessory, or perhaps whore. I'd known the owls would be decorated now, that's the listed tradition. But it's gaudier than I expected, and I can't help but find it distasteful. The younger Hufflepuffs are laughing and pointing – their happiness makes me feel faint and ill. I have never been that boy.
What a pathetically self-pitying thought.
HARRY:
Draco moves slightly to one side, as if trying to separate himself from everyone else while this happens. And they descend towards him, turning around each other and towards him, trailing colour. He extends what looks like a reluctant hand to take the nearest owl, taking an envelope.
I saw the owl coming to me, of course, and I can hear it trying to get my attention. But I wait till Draco looks at me, and manage what I hope is a friendly smile. I've given Snape's request that I talk to Draco more than a week's consideration. I've not really been avoiding him; in fact I think he's carefully avoided me. He returns the smile tentatively, and I know a number of people notice, including Ron.
"You going to take this thing or not, Harry. The owl's getting impatient."
Neither of us mention Draco as we get the white box free of its entanglement in red and gold ribbons.
RON:
I can see him watching Malfoy, and trying not to. I see Malfoy glance at him, while trying to keep himself separate from everyone. And I actually have to pity them both – yeah, even Malfoy. Cause it will never work. It doesn't even matter what they really want. The whole school, maybe the whole wizarding world, is shaped by how impossible it is for the-boy-who-lived to. . . I really don't want to even think that.
* * *
They waited in the corridor to Gryffindor Tower for gawking groups of younger students to move on. Colin they had to ask to please go away, and he gave Harry a desperately forlorn look.
"Colin have a crush on you too?" Ron asked.
"Only for years," Hermione said, as if it wasn't news, and it probably wasn't.
Harry didn't bother to reply, though he couldn't help thinking Ginny caused him a lot more problems. He slipped the box out of his robe.
"Do you think it's from Malfoy?" Ron asked.
"Why?"
"I saw you. . . looking at each other."
"Ron," Hermione whispered crossly. It was such a familiar expression Ron had to smile. Hermione smiled back.
"I didn't mean it like that," Ron said after the moment had passed. "I just wondered."
The box contained a folded letter and a squat glass bottle.
"Perhaps it's from Professor Snape," Hermione said.
Harry unfolded the sheet of parchment and read aloud: "To Harry Potter, Please find enclosed a token of my admiration and esteem. A meeting has been proposed to your representatives and I look forward to meeting you in person. I am honoured that you have decided to consider my proposal. Warm regards from Hilary Malkin."
"Oh my," Hermione said, taking the box and running a finger over the label, "Veritaserum."
"And look how much," Ron added. "That'd be worth a fortune."
"I'm sure it's illegal to give this. It's a restricted substance." Hermione lifted it out of the box, as if it would turn out to be something else on closer inspection. Harry, however, was apparently still re-reading the note. "Come on, you two," she said, watching Harry with some concern, "let's get to the tower. Padma has Entrancing Marshmallows."
* * *
In the Gryffindor common room, the fight about why Draco Malfoy received so many declarations had heated up again, fed by Malfoy's array of gifts over the last week. Neville just couldn't see why it mattered to the rest of them, or how it was something Malfoy should be hated for. Dean had already said Neville must really be a Hufflepuff, sending Neville into one of the pained silences that drove Dean even more crazy, when Ron, Harry, and Hermione arrived.
It was agreed by most of Gryffindor that Ron's life was over. And it was almost certainly all Snape's fault. Or maybe a Slytherin thing. Hermione really should have seen what was going wrong, anyway. Though Harry had explained it all in detail more than once, the Gryffindor rumour mill was not entirely convinced. In any case Ron's appearance made most of them uncomfortable. Hermione, however, had a plan.
"Neville, we didn't read the Prophet Supplement this week, what with everything else," There was some uncomfortable shuffling, over which Hermione brightly said, "so let's do that." Although there were many surprised glances, everyone was genuinely willing. Hermione hated the Supplement thing, but Ron liked it and that, at least, made sense – Hermione trying to make Ron happy. It was also something of an event that Harry stayed.
* * *
. . . the Minister stated that every effort would be made to have the venue as well as the trials conform to the original wizarding traditions. . .
Hermione sniffed and said – along with the spontaneous and almost perfectly timed accompaniment of half the room – "which original tradition?" She gave them an annoyed glare, and then she smiled too.
. . . the central trials are held over two days – the first day of magical and other demonstrations, and the second of duels. . .
Amidst various excited voices explaining what that meant, Harry said, "What's the big deal, we've done dueling before."
"Haven't we?" he added, when everyone stared at him.
"This is all of Wizarding Britain and Ireland," Seamus insisted.
Even Neville agreed that it was something spectacular. "There are rounds all over the place, and the winners go to London for a great tournament."
"I've not exactly had the best experience with tournaments."
"Harry, no," Seamus scoffed, "this is just part of the Rite, there's nothing dangerous about it."
"You have to try out, Harry, you're one of our best hopes," Dean pleaded. "Come on, it'll be wizard!"
Harry smiled at Dean's very tired pun. He exchanged a skeptical look with Hermione, it did sound kind of fun.
* * *
Professor Flitwick offered the 7th year three optional strands for their Thursday and Friday classes: glamours, charmed objects, and defensive or protective charms. Harry, Ron and Hermione – tentatively reasserting their solidarity, although everyone knew nothing was the same – agreed on the same combination: Objects on Thursdays, Protection on Friday. On the first Friday in October, the Professor entered with a stranger.
"Good morning 7th year," most of the class managed to murmur a polite phrase, while blatantly staring at the young man beside him. "I'd like to introduce to you Dante Sangermano, who'll be helping with the next few classes. Dante was quite the Charms champion at Beauxbatons just before you came to Hogwarts, and he's agreed to help instruct you in defensive charms over the next few weeks."
The new tutor was, Lavender whispered it first but no one could disagree as the opinion fluttered through the assembled students, incredibly handsome. When he finally spoke there was a conspicuous silence and then a murmur of appreciation. Dante – "call me Dante," he said with a smooth smile – was younger than the Professors and laughed easily in a richly foreign accent.
"Italian," Harry heard Pansy say in a low knowing voice, "I met him at Draco's." Harry immediately looked for a response, but Malfoy's face was even more closed than usual. He didn't acknowledge Harry's attention. Instead he picked at the blue robe Harry knew he hated, and if there was anything in his expression it was closest to boredom.
Dante was well dressed in an understated way, tailored finely-tucked full black robes with a thin strip of white shirt at the collar, his glossy black hair swept his broad shoulders and framed a deeply tanned face.
The students were arraigned in pairs for tests of skill – a competition based on standing grades, Dante said, so he could sure of their capabilities. Each student had to protect themselves with a combination of charms, and the other student would try to breach them. No curses, only charms. The contests went down almost as expected, and those that did not were played again. Ron clearly beat Seamus a second time and – along with Neville, Draco and Millicent – was asked to try another round against a student graded further above them. Ron was paired with Parvati and, as soon as she indicated she had set up her personal wards, Ron instantly hexed her. She clearly couldn't respond. Harry was positive it was the same hex Hermione had used on Ron, and her surprised face suggested he was right. Hermione certainly looked surprised. He tried to remember the mnemonic about the difference between charm and hex and curse, but he couldn't, and then Ron and Draco were being called up again. Draco was paired with Cho, who'd been top of Charms all this year (of course she had repeated 6th year and had an advantage, as Ron and the girls were constantly consoling Hermione), and Ron with Terry Boot. Harry's attention was very divided – Draco seemed to be out to prove something in a class he usually treated with contempt, but Ron had never been at this level. The sudden thought that Ron might be benefiting from the bond with Hermione shocked Harry enough to focus on that pair.
On agreeing their protective charms were in place, Dante indicated the students should begin. Ron raised his wand more quickly than Terry and said "caligo" in an efficiently crisp voice – Harry didn't recognize the spell or the voice. Everything seemed to dim, but he clearly heard "expelliarmus" and then, in the stillness, it sounded like someone else said "glasses", which seemed unlikely.
Dante called out from the back of the room, and like a wave washing through the room the normal light returned. Ron was sitting on the floor breathing heavily. Draco was standing over the huddled form of Cho Chang, who was holding her wand in pieces. It was unclear to Harry what had happened. He watched Dante move towards Draco, sharing with the boy a drawn out inscrutable look. Something about it made perfect sense to Harry, though he wouldn't have wanted to attempt an explanation.
There was a confusing rush of voices and movements. Students left, there was an argument between Dean and Neville about something, and Justin was glaring at Draco. Ron and Hermione walked past and Ron dragged on Harry's arm. He heard him say "You coming, Harry?" but he was watching Dante help Cho to her feet, and hand her the pieces of her wand with a consoling pat on her shoulder. She stormed by them.
"Wouldn't want to be Malfoy tomorrow," Ron said.
Draco approached, as if in slow motion, and Dante stopped him just before reached Harry. "Draco," he said warmly, "molto bene."
The blond boy nodded and kept walking, but Harry reached out to take his passing shoulder. He pulled Draco out past Ron and Hermione waiting near the door and, without speaking, pushed him towards the nearest feasible door – a general boys' bathroom. Harry shoved him urgently across the tiled floor, at which Draco neither struggled nor protested, in the direction of the stalls.
"Really, Potter. . ."
"Oh shut up!" Harry pushed Draco so hard against the wooden door with both hands that it rattled behind him. "What the hell is wrong with you?"
"Do you want me to. . ."
Harry kissed him. Hard, pressing him against the wood – somewhere in the back of his mind things registered about too many doors, and maybe not standing up for a change – but he angrily, harshly, openly kissed Draco against the toilet door, and Draco let him.
An arm slid around Harry's neck and Draco pushed back, a tongue sliding into his mouth and his body dragged back firmly against the other boy. Shivers of strange unpleasant pleasure ran up and down Harry's body. The strange and wrong mirroring of bodies against doors and a tongue in his mouth seemed to rock Harry into Draco's arms, and he felt like he would fall. Leaning back for more air, feeling an arm slide down his back, he heard the light whispered "Harry" and thrust himself urgently away.
"What was that?"
"You kissed me." Draco sounded slightly bemused but mostly smug.
"Fuck you." Harry shoved Draco hard again, against the wooden door, which clunked and rattled.
Draco smirked. "Is this where I say ok?"
Harry hit out at him, glancing a half-closed fist against Draco's shoulder. Without a word, Draco launched at him and they struggled haphazardly, clumsily, against each other. After a moment stretched by pinching fingers and twisting fists and arms, they both fell to the floor.
"You bastard, that hurt," Draco said, rubbing his left wrist.
Feeling weirdly contrite Harry put out his hand and took Draco's. "You broke her wand," he said, as if it was relevant to looking at Draco's wrist.
"I know," Draco said, somewhat hesitantly, "I expected her defense to be stronger."
"Who's Dante?" Harry said, as if that was obviously connected.
"Summer tutor," Draco said, leaning his forehead against Harry's shoulder.
"Like him?" Harry asked hesitantly, but there was a noise, or two, behind them and they were instantly moving up and apart.
"A junior Ravenclaw, I think. Shall I catch him?"
"What for," Harry said. "I think Potter and Malfoy snogging in the toilets is superior information. Cho'll have it in half an hour." Malfoy gave a resigned nod, and straightened his robe with an unwrinkling charm.
"We'd be ok with a Hufflepuff," Harry said, opening the door for them both.
"Have you ever noticed they're all the same," Draco replied, companionably, "two parents, both wizards, average at everything, never poor, never wealthy? No wonder they don't have any interests to pursue, they never have any problems."
"Oh the trauma of being wealthy and spoilt," Harry teased, but there was an edge or something in his voice and in the look they shared.
"Or famous and popular," Draco replied in the same vein, casually straightening the collar of Harry's green robe as they walked. Harry watched him do it without comment. The occasional student watched them pass, some blatantly, some surreptitiously.
"So what was all that about anyway, Potter?" Draco finally said as they turned in to Gryffindor tower and stopped by the door up to Lupin's rooms. "Jealous?"
"Afraid," Harry replied.
.