Chapter 37

"Dumbledore's not going to be appeased for long." Sirius told them. "He wants to know why Harry's scar has healed. Honestly, it's a little disturbing: the Headmaster of a school who had no issue with a child under his care who basically had an open wound, is suddenly concerned when it's healed? What is the matter with him? I know he's much more than that, but still."

According to Sirius, Harry hadn't been back at Hogwarts for twelve hours before the headmaster had summoned Sirius to Scotland for a meeting. He'd put it off for 48 hours, not wanting to let Dumbledore believe he was subject to his whims. Narcissa found she couldn't even begrudge him that bit of pettiness.

He'd come to the Manor for dinner that night to report on how things had gone.

"He has an agenda," she responded. "He does not truly understand the burden we all bear, as parents," she looked around and eyed Sirius pointedly.

"You have an agenda too, Cissy," he rolled his eyes.

"Of course I do," she tipped her chin at him, responding without hesitation, "and I have never attempted to hide it from you. I intend to get myself and my family through this war, and because my daughter loves your godson so much that includes you."

Narcissa would never tell her cousin that she was actually beginning to enjoy his regular presence in their house, despite his rather unfortunate temper, and she planned to do her best for him for his own sake as well.

"How did you explain things?" Lucius asked, interrupting what had become something of a stare-off. "I assume not the truth."

"Of course not," Sirius scoffed. "I told him that Harry had been complaining of headaches. That I was hesitant to take him to a healer right away, given his unfortunate fame and so first I did some research and some basic diagnostics. I admitted that I realized now I should have done that when I first gained custody. But that I discovered a curse taint within the scar which was the reason it had never healed properly in the first place. I told him I performed a cleansing ritual to get rid of it and that he was perfectly free from it now."

"Do you think he will attempt to confirm your story?" Wondered Lucius.

"I don't know, I don't see how he could. He could run some tests on Harry but there's not much he could do without alerting Harry, and everything should come back normal anyway."

"Will you ever tell him the true nature of what it was?"

"No!" Sirius practically shouted, sitting up straight in his chair so suddenly that he nearly splashed tea all over himself. "No, I don't intend for anybody outside of the three of us to ever know. I realize Harry may figure it out one day, but I hope he doesn't. But this is the kind of thing that could follow him around for the rest of his life, and that's on top of this ridiculous Boy-Who-Lived myth."

"I agree, Sirius," Narcissa said quietly. "We will keep it to ourselves as well. Will we not, Lucius?"

She eyed her husband who just cocked one eyebrow in her direction, then sighed and nodded. She knew he disliked making such an open ended promise and she understood; even she could see that this information could possibly be valuable for trade in the future, but after finally having met Harry Potter, she couldn't imagine either putting yet another burden on his shoulders or using him as a bargaining chip.

She was aware- courtesy of the elves - the moment Harry had arrived at the Manor on that last day of the Easter holidays. So, she knew that he'd already been around for a couple of hours when Hermione and Draco entered her parlour- she and Lucius were intentionally remaining in separate rooms, him in his study, and she in the Lady's parlour- followed by an obviously reticent Harry.

She'd seen him before, of course, at the World Cup and from a distance both at Hogwarts and on the platform at Kings Cross, but she'd never had an opportunity to really study him. Her first thought was that he was too thin- but that could have been due to typical teenage growth spurts. Her second was that his eyes were some of the most striking things she'd ever seen; and her third was that there was something about him, before he'd even spoken, that helped her understand why her daughter was so determined to protect him.

She didn't offer her cheek for a kiss, much less do what she knew Hermione would have and attempt to hug him, but the poor boy hesitated to even take her hand. And he kept looking around as if in wonder- though she could commiserate with that, she'd felt similarly when she'd first seen Malfoy Manor and she'd been raised in luxury herself.

He'd been unfailingly polite but there was something almost painful to watch about his demeanor, not quite shyness, more like a reticence. He seemed terrified that at any turn he was going to do the wrong thing and they were all going to turn on him- with the possible exception of Hermione, whom he kept looking to for reassurance. But it had been a pleasure to get to know him, to see his face light up when she asked for stories about Hermione, and it was a reminder that he was just a boy, just like her Draco. She couldn't throw him to the wolves.

"Thank you," Sirius sagged. "So as I was saying, I don't think I can hold him off much longer. If we keep Dumbledore in the dark too long we lose the chance that he'll trust us and be willing to act on our information."

"You think he's going to trust us? Perhaps you Black, but the moment Narcissa and I were sorted into Slytherin we lost any chance of being trusted by Dumbledore."

Sirius rolled his eyes. "You know what I mean Malfoy. If he suspects what was in Harry's scar, suspects the existence of horcruxes as a whole, and then finds out we knew and kept it from him, he may refuse to listen to any information we provide and then everything we've worked for is for naught."

"That's not necessarily true," Narcissa interjected, becoming uneasy, it was typical for her husband and cousin to clash, but she believed it was imperative that they remained a united front. "Even if he refuses to work with us, we've cleaned Harry's scar and we've discovered the existence of the horcruxes. I agree that he would be a boon, but we don't necessarily need Dumbledore to find and destroy them. But I do agree that we're walking a fine line and need to start thinking about when we're going to approach."

Lucius sighed. "The mark darkens, I was at least hoping to have some solid information about the Dark Lord's state and location first. He's been inside Hogwarts before, Crouch Jr. was there earlier this year without Dumbledore's knowledge, I don't want to inadvertently blow my cover before the war even really starts."

"You can't predict everything," Sirius growled.

"No, but I can be cautious," Lucius snapped in return.

"We've forgotten Hermione," Narcissa interrupted.

"I assure you I have not," her husband responded, his voice sharper than he'd usually use when speaking with her. He took a breath.

"What I mean-" she shot him a look, "is that we've forgotten the effect Hermione's presence in our lives will have on Dumbledore's opinions. No matter what he thinks of us, Hermione is a muggleborn witch who is betrothed to our son, with our approval. That automatically puts us in danger from the Dark Lord, and more importantly, puts them in danger. I have many issues with Dumbledore, but he is no fool, he'll be able to understand why we would want to change our allegiances."

Lucius and Sirius eyed each other.

"Maybe we should get Harry through the tournament and then come back to this subject," Sirius conceded.

Lucius nodded. "For no other reason than I think I would prefer if Hermione and Draco were not living in Dumbledore's domain when we approach him."

Sirius' expression morphed into one of pure amusement. "What do you think he's going to do?" He smirked.

Lucius drummed his fingertips against the table, a sure sign of impatience. "I do not know," he intoned, "and I do not like that which I cannot predict. It would just give me peace of mind to know they were safely at home and our of his reach. After what's happened to your godson this year I'd think you'd understand."

Sirius had the good grace to look abashed. He released his hair from its tie and ran his hand through it, as was his habit when he was worked up. "Yeah, okay, agreed."

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From what Hermione could tell, the way that Draco and Harry worked through their past issues and the remaining tension between them was by trying to kill each other on a regular basis. Or perhaps not kill, but definitely permanently maim.

Once Harry recovered physically and magically from the ordeal of the cleansing ritual it quickly became clear that he'd undergone a large surge in his magical power. According to him, he and Sirius had been doing some exercises to get ready to go back into training for the tournament, Sirius had wanted to start with some simple spells and Harry had accidentally thrown him across the back garden with his first one: a simple disarmer.

Which meant that they had a whole new category of things to work on before the third task: teaching Harry to control the power he poured into his spells. More power could certainly be beneficial, but if he couldn't control it, it could easily be as dangerous as it was helpful.

And so Draco had been added to Harry's training rota. He was a new, unpredictable opponent, a perfect training tool. And while he could only be present when it was just Sirius overseeing the sessions, for obvious reasons, that still happened far too often for Hermione's peace of mind.

She'd seen Harry face older, more seasoned, and more powerful opponents on multiple occasions. But she couldn't shake her fear- irrational as it might be- watching her best friend and her betrothed face-off. She knew, logically, that she had nothing to fear. But they just seemed to find too much glee in trying to hurt each other for her peace of mind.

The first time she covered her eyes. The second time she left the room; but that had only made her more anxious. She'd tried bringing Claire along to quell their tempers, but it had only seemed to seal their determination to prove themselves- if for different reasons. So, she learned to just grin and bear it. Well, no. There was no grinning, she bore it and yelled at them both afterwards.

And she didn't care how much they both assured her that they didn't actually mean the other any harm; their ferocity spoke for itself. And Sirius 'Boys-will-be-boys' Black just thought it was hilarious. When this war was over she was determined to kick his arse.

By the time they'd been back at Hogwarts a month and Harry had finally been called to a champions' meeting about the third task; Hermione swore she'd aged several years.

She, Draco, and Claire were waiting for Harry in- what had previously been her and Draco's private sanctuary in the library- when he busted in without any subtlety.

"They've turned the quidditch pitch into a maze!"

Hermione recovered from the sudden intrusion first. "Excuse me?" She thought she understood his meaning, the research they'd done had indicated that the third task was traditionally some kind of treasure hunt; a maze made complete sense.

Harry huffed and threw himself onto the floor in front of the fire.

"They've grown hedges on our quidditch pitch! They say they'll be twenty feet tall by the time of the last task, on our quidditch pitch!" He reiterated, clearly overcome by the idea- not of the task, but by the invasion of supposed sacred ground.

Hermione immediately began to feel herself developing a headache.

"What!" Draco exclaimed, before Hermione could open her mouth.

Harry eyed him, his head propped on his arm. "I know, right? What were they thinking? As if there weren't plenty of other places to erect a maze, why ruin the quidditch pitch?"

Hermione could only gape at them.

"They'll set it to rights though?" Draco asked.

"They say so," Harry griped.

"What!" Hermione shrieked when she finally found her voice. "Are the both of you mad!"

"Of course not," Harry answered loftily.

Draco wisely kept his mouth shut.

"Harry has to face yet another life threatening task and the pair of you are worried about the state of your quidditch pitch!" She continued.

She saw the boys exchange a look and swung her legs around so that she could stamp both feet on the carpet.

"What is the matter with you! Quidditch doesn't even demand a pitch, it's not football, it's played in the air!"

Draco and Harry both gaped at her, completely appalled, and then began to speak at the same time.

"You wouldn't understand," Harry wailed.

"It's about the integrity of the game!" Draco cajoled.

"The pair of you need to get your priorities in line," she snapped, giving them each a good long glare for good measure.

She then looked to Claire for back up, but the older girl just shook her head. However, when Hermione gathered her things, clearly preparing to leave for the night rose in solidarity and linked arms with her as they exited the room. She could feel the boys' gaze trailing after them.

She knew almost immediately that she'd overreacted. Or- more accurately- that they'd all reacted in line with their own experiences, but thankfully, they understood her well. All she'd had to do was lay her head on Harry's shoulder at breakfast the next morning and tell him that she was simply worried, but that she would never begrudge him quidditch, and all was solved with him.

Well, there had been the ribbing about how he was certain she'd prefer it if he would just give up quidditch entirely. But he, in turn, admitted that he may have lost the track of what was really important a little by concentrating on the state of the quidditch pitch rather than the task he had to face.

She hadn't needed to say a word to Draco, or him to her, for them to understand each other. She had been dramatic. He had been flippant. They were both sorry.

Sirius doubled down on Harry's training once they knew something of the nature of the third task and even when she wasn't participating, Hermione brought her her materials for revision- her exams were fast approaching- and accompanied Harry as a sign of solidarity. But even after seeing him work so hard, being thoroughly put through his paces, and after what he'd survived with the first two tasks, by the time June 24th and the third task arrived, she was still terrified.

She simply couldn't shake the feeling that something terrible was on the horizon and there was nothing she could do about it.

The feeling was only added to when the Daily Prophet was delivered that morning. A story about Harry's unnatural attachment to his muggleborn best friend who also happened to be the ward of his godfather, and how it might be limiting him, graced the front page. For a moment Hermione felt her cheeks burn in shame.

She glanced at Harry and was relieved- and God help her, thankful for Rita Skeeter- to see that he looked amused. "You and me, huh?" He muttered.

"Obviously we're in the midst of a torrid love affair," she shot right back.

Their eyes met, and they burst out laughing.

Any lingering feeling of dread and embarrassment was abated with the appearance of Sirius, Remus- and to her complete shock, her parents- a few minutes later. Part of her wanted to be annoyed by the presence of her muggle parents. They didn't have any idea what might be happening later, still had no idea with what purpose Harry had been entered into the Tri-Wizard Tournament, and it could be dangerous for her non-magical parents to be present. But she was so happy to see them that, despite it all, she could only be pleased. And the squeeze of Harry's hand in hers, and his excited glance in their direction only cemented that thought.

When McGonagall swooped down from the Head Table to tell her that she could make up her History of Magic exam at a later date in favor of visiting with her parents and Harry's other guests, she'd opened her mouth to object, not wanting special treatment, only for her own mother to bend down and whisper into her ear:

"Life is too short, love. If anybody begrudges you this, let them, that's their problem. It's not as if anybody could truly accuse you of slacking off your academics. And look how happy Harry is."

She glanced at her best friend who was absolutely beaming at this show of support and just nodded.

"That's my girl. Now, show us around this magical school of yours." Her father gave her a kiss on a her temple which felt like it woke her up: HER PARENTS WERE AT HOGWARTS! No matter what else, this was a gift. She glanced at Sirius who was smiling gently at her and bit back a sob as Harry began to lead them all away, like an over eager tour guide.

Draco managed to run into them in the Entrance Hall. Literally. He nearly bowled Harry over. Hermione shouldn't have been surprised, he seemed to enjoy this tactic.

"Got yourself a girlfriend, Potter?" Draco waved the newspaper around and if Hermione hadn't known him so well, hadn't seen the mischievous mirth in his eyes, she would have worried that he was either worried or angry; but he was clearly enjoying this.

Stupid git.

"Hermione is my best friend. It doesn't surprise me you can't understand such a relationship," Harry sniped. He was playing his part so perfectly that Hermione couldn't help but wonder if they'd planned this little encounter. Except she knew that they couldn't have predicted Rita Skeeter's inanity.

"Whatever you say." He turned his head and looked at her up and down, and if he was anybody else she would have been uncomfortable under his gaze.

Harry stepped into his space. "Back off Malfoy."

"I think you're the one who should back off, Potter," he spat, shoving his shoulder against Harry's

Draco started to walk away but turned to give her a significant look and tapped his finger against the side of his nose.

"God," she heard her mum breathe, "that was like seeing an entirely different person." Her mother placed her arm around her shoulders. "Is it like that all the time?"

"He's very good at playing his part," she murmured, squeezing her mum's hand which was dangling from her shoulder. .

"I knew, what things were like in theory, but I'm not sure I really understood how hard it must be on you children," Helen confessed, eyes still following Draco's retreating form.

Her mum gave her a long look, then a smile and a nod.

After that she spent an enjoyable if completely unanticipated day showing her parents around Hogwarts. It was an opportunity she never thought she would be able to experience and despite her nerves on Harry's behalf she was at least grateful for that.

Despite her parents' presence it was Sirius' arm she found herself clutching as they approached the stands preceding the third task.

The atmosphere was celebratory and Hermione wondered if these students had been present at the last two life threatening tasks. Was it really possible to be this disassociated?

She spent the entirety of the task squashed between Sirius and her father, with Remus on Sirius' other side and her mother at her father's side. Her heart skipped a beat when red sparks went up above the maze- and part of her hoped it was Harry. But then they led a disoriented Viktor Krum away from the maze and to the hospital tent.

Hermione consoled herself that Harry had sworn he wouldn't take any chances, he was probably just ambling about making the required effort, he couldn't downright forfeit, they were concerned that would risk breaching the contract.

The wait seemed interminable. Though she would later learn it was less than an hour, just staring at a bunch of hedges hoping, but also dreading that something would happen was agonizing.

And then, without any warning she appeared at the entrance of the maze. Obviously having arrived by portkey, goblet in hand: the newly crowned Tri-Wizard Champion Fleur Delacour.

Hermione sagged with relief but she didn't stop holding her breath or loosening her grip on Sirius' arm until a group of aurors led first Cedric Diggory, and then Harry- looking a little worse for wear, but safe- out of the maze.

Hermione supposed she should have been disappointed that a Hogwarts champion hadn't won.

However, despite how others may have thought she should have felt, she wasn't actually disappointed, and she wasn't the least bit sorry about it.

She simply felt as if a great weight had been lifted from her shoulders and- as was almost always her instinct- her eyes sought out Draco who was seated in the next set of stands. His face was impassive, but he seemed to sense her eyes on him and he raised his own to meet them, and then, for the second time that day he brought one finger up to touch the side of his nose. It was everything she needed to finally relax, or more accurately, to collapse.

She let out a great sob and buried her face into Sirius' shoulder. "It's over," she kept repeating, "it's over, it's over, it's over!"

He clutched her to him, clearly as grateful as she was. But he allowed Remus to interrupt their little celebration to take her face in his hands and kiss her cheeks like an affectionate uncle. And after that, when he was free from the general public, she also allowed her somewhat delirious looking best friend who had run over to embrace Sirius, to then pick her up and twirl her around even as she patted him down to check for injuries as he laughed uproariously.

"I'm fine, fine, fine!" Harry repeated over and over but she didn't release him and he didn't fight her until she had done her own thorough examination.

And after she'd seen her parents off she even allowed herself to indulge in the party the Weasley twins had thrown together for Harry in Gryffindor Tower. Merlin knew he deserved it - winner or not, he'd put in an impressive performance, and she needed to forget that they still didn't actually know what had let to him being entered into the tournament in the first place. Or the inevitable gossip that would result from their platonic display of affection following the task.

She would allow herself a few hours to just be happy.

"Let's have a normal summer?" Harry requested later that night, looking a little drunk as he sank onto a sofa and crowded into her personal space, the festivities still going on around them. "Damn if I know what that is," he added under his breath, confirming his drunken appearance.

"I'll do my best," Hermione promised. She studied him for a moment and then pulled him into a hug. "Merlin, I'd like nothing more."

It was half wish, half prayer.

It was not to be.

Author's Note: Thanks to Weestarmeegie for the beta read and for just generally understanding my brain. Thanks to the rest of you for reading, for your patience, and your love. I've received some reviews from new readers over the past couple of weeks that were especially inspiring, I can't impress upon you how much it inspires me to see your enthusiasm and I cannot express my appreciation enough!