See the end for Author's Notes.

Chapter Fifteen

When Harry reached the Great Hall that morning with Vince and Goyle he was immediately inundated by all of the pink. There were salmon, rose, and fuschia banners in between the windows that lined the walls and a large magenta tablecloth on each table-- including their own.

"Ooh Draco is going to be livid," Goyle said with complete seriousness.

Harry couldn't help but agree. The reason behind the toxic color scheme was obvious if one looked to the head table where all the professors sat. Professor Snape and Sinistra looked ready to mutiny while Professor McGonogall, Professor Vector, and Madame Pomfrey looked to be contemplating suicide. Gilderoy Lockhart however was ecstatic, casting charmed hearts and flowers into the air. His robes, were coral of all horrid shades but were somehow cut nicely enough to not look horrendous. It was truly astounding that he could wear that color and pull it off if it weren't for the fact that the man was insistent on plaguing the rest of the school with his stupid schemes. "What's this all about anyway?" asked Vincent, frowning at the little heart shaped confetti that was dusted across the table with silver and pink glitter.

Harry shrugged. "St. Valentine's Day."

Vince, along with almost every other slytherin within hearing distance stared at him in complete confusion. Harry blinked and then came to a sudden and astonishing conclusion. "You have no idea what I'm talking about, do you?"

"No Potter," Millicent Bullstrode-- an especially acerbic girl in his year-- snapped, "We're all just enraptured by your pretty face."

Harry narrowed his eyes at her. He absolutely detested that so many of them called him pretty, even when it was in jest or sarcastically as it currently was. The problem was that it kept happening. No self-respecting monster was 'pretty'. No one ever accused the Dark Lord of being 'pretty' (although there are very few descriptions of his father's physical appearance and they all conflict in one way or another). He would ask Vince for assistance to look more rugged and manly if not for the amount of ribbing such a request was sure to be met with. Harry wasn't quite desperate enough to attempt such an action. "It's a holiday focused on courting and love," he explained as soon as he cleared his head of his wandering thoughts. "People give gifts or chocolates to the people they fancy, although I admit it tends to be girls that receive these gifts."

Nott scoffed at his place three people down from Harry. "It sounds stupid."

"You only say that because no one would ever court you," Draco snarked, a wicked smirk on his face as he finally arrived to the table.

Things only declined after that. Despite having come to some sort of cease fire at the start of term this past year, Nott and Draco mixed just as well now as ever (which is to say one would have more luck mixing magic and technology). "I see those two are getting on splendidly," Vince muttered sardonically as the two blonds snipped at at one another.

"No more than usual," Goyle allowed. "Do you think we'll get any letters?"

Harry frowned. "Letters?"

"Yeah. Apparently the esteemed Professor Lockhart thought he could go through student's belongings and find any love letters written to another and send them today. You should have seen Agatha Ollerton's face when he said that. I thought she'd start puking slugs for how green she was."

"What?!"

They turned to see Parkinson have out of her seat. Vince snickered. It wasn't exactly a mystery that she fancied Draco just as it was common knowledge that Queenie had vowed to 'protect her sister's honor if anyone were to dare make passes at her future brother-in-law'. It was just bad luck that whatever poor attempt at wooing the boy had been written for Lockhart's 'cupids to find. "What's wrong Parkinson," asked Queenie from several seats down, "Any admissions of guilt you wish to attest to?"

Harry winced. That was her 'you should have known better' voice. It was too often followed by this wretched pinching charm that left bruises in hard to reach places. (Harry thinks it was a favorite alternative to actual curses and hexes when training children in darker households.) Pansy squeaked and took off at a dead spring out of the Great Hall. "That's not going to help," Vince shook his head in dismay. "Heir Greengrass will be more cross with her for making her chase her through the halls."

"She'll probably send Helena after her," Harry guessed.

"More's the pity."

Harry arched an eyebrow at his ally. "Don't tell me you actually feel bad for Parkinson? She's annoying on a good day."

"And she has more good than bad ones. Parkinson is hardly the worst female in our year. I think Bullstrode would crush you like a grape if it weren't for your standing in the hierarchy. That display at the dueling club farce probably helped your cause."

Vince shrugged when Harry scowled at him. "I was just saying."

"What's all this about letters?" Draco asked as he reached for the marmalade. "And why on earth is our table cloth pink? And the streamers red? Are these heart confetti?"

"It's some Muggle holiday Lockhart's putting on," Nott explained. "Something to do with who you fancy and chocolate and flowers. I think some of the girls are excited."

"Speak for yourself," Helena chided as she came down to bother them per usual. "I've already gotten three bouqets and have set each on fire."

Draco blanched. "Whatever for?"

"She's has horrible pollen allergies," Nott said.

"And I don't like sweets in case any of you lot are getting some ideas!" she announced loud enough for at least a quarter of the great hall to hear.

Harry didn't think it was happenstance that a ravenclaw boy that had been heading their way made a complete 180 in the other direction. He was curiously hiding something behind his back... "It's not just for girls, you know."

"Girls and delicate flowers such as yourself Harold. Until the rest of these reprobrates get love letters, we'll just have to beat them off with sticks, I reckon."

Harry scowled at the taller girl. "I am about as much a delicate flower as you."

"My point exactly."

Harry didn't get her point and was probably better off for it. Draco, unbothered by Helena's oddness (probably because he saw a lot of her thanks to Queenie and Astoria) changed topics. "Does this mean Lockhart will have the classroom decked out in this shite?" he asked uncharacteristically crass.

"Most definitely," Goyle intoned with a somber expression.

Draco's face contorted into a rathernostlagic sneer that he only used on special occasions (or when he wanted to be a prat again). Harry thought the expression rather comical now that he knew Lucius Malfoy made the exact face when he was made to eat cooked spinach. He did it when Lady Narcissa wasn't looking but Harry was pretty sure she knew anyway which is why she made a point to have it served once a month during a meal.

"Now I don't want to go to class," the blond groaned, poking at his porridge.

"As opposed to any other day where you're chomping at the bit to go to Defense?" Vince pointed out.

"I can ignore most of his stupidity on normal days. His robes are so garishly colored I'll be blinded within the first ten minutes and be stuck with a heightened sense of sound and might actually remember some of his stupid tales. Salazar, someone save me! Nott, we're switching seats today. There is no way I am sitting in the front of that sodding classroom."

"Oi! Who said I wanted to be in the front? You're the best student in our class, you sit in the front."

"What about Granger?" Harry asked, curious to hear the answer.

"What about Harry?" Vince added.

Harry scowled at his ally and the breakfast continued in the same manner until they left for Transfiguration. Much to Professor McGonogall's consternation, no less than three 'cupids' interrupted their class that day to recite love letters. (Draco received one from Parkinson. As expected, it was like watching a trainwreck.) None were delivered to potions but Michael Corner told them one had barged in causing a Hufflepuff to explode an entire row of cauldrons and Snape had warded the door against any entrances or exits once class started to prevent any more interruptions. (Consequently there were two letters delivered in the hall when the Hufflepuff and Ravenclaw class was switching with the Slytherin and Gryffindor one.)

It was kind of a let down that Lockhart's class was oddly absent from such interruptions (if one excluded the five letters he had already gotten during lunch just before this). Harry was wondering who was taking bets on how many the professors would inevitably receive-- and how he could put some money down that Professor McGonogall and Professor Snape would receive two apiece-- when his thoughts were interrupted. "Have you noticed that no one seems to care about the petrified students anymore?"

Harry blinked in surprise and glanced up from the arithmetic sequence he was playing with behind the cover of Lockhart's textbook. Hermione hadn't talked to him since they returned to school and he was almost sure she was going to continue her cold shoulder when they had been continued to be paired together for Defense Against the Dark Arts (not that they learned anything of much use in the class). Apparently that was not to be the case. "None of the upperclassmen have been petrified so they hardly care one way or the other. Smith was an arse even on his best day and has hardly been missed, even by his own housemates, Creevey hadn't made many friends before he was petrified, and you won't see any of the students crying over the loss of Miss Norris." Harry shrugged. "It's understandable that no one seems to care anymore. There have been no more petrifications and it's shock appeal has worn off. Now if a professor was petrified, say Lockhart, that would be something."

Harry didn't think his father was actually eavesdropping on his conversations, but just in case, it would be nice to get rid of the useless professor. "That's Professor Lockhart and how could you say such a thing? Especially with everyone assuming you to be responsible?"

Harry shrugged. "It was just hypothetical. And I wouldn't be a very good murderer if I got caught so easily."

The scowl the brunette sent at him was almost theatrical. Harry smiled back at her in turn. Hermione huffed. "You're rather confusing Harry Potter."

"And I wouldn't have it any other way," Harry decided.

She huffed, but there was a small upturn of her lips. 'Victory!' Harry thought to himself.

It appeared that Hermione Granger was getting used to Harry's idiosyncratic behaviors and less quick to temper because of it. If that was the case, perhaps he would pursue an acquaintance with her next year? When class was released Harry was in a rather good mood. And with being able to duel with Cedric again, his mood could only get better (the seeker was rather fetching when he was in proper dueling stance). "Harry Potter!" interrupted his thoughts and the sight that greeted him was nothing like a fit fifth year.

Harry froze in horror at the 'cupid' that was hustling towards him from the other end of the corridor. "No," he said, "Absolutely not."

"I think you've got a love letter, Harry dearest," Draco grinned from ear to ear. The git had been a bit sore about Harry's ribbing for Parkinson's subpar poem and Harry just knew this was the universe's way of getting back at him. So he did what any sensible person should do-- he turned tail and strode purposefully (not run, per se, but definitely a brisk walk) in the opposite direction of the dwarf. "Wait, Harry Potter! I have to deliver your letter!"

"Harry's not here right now, please leave a message after the beep," he called over his shoulder, picking up his pace a bit.

It was at this precise moment that he felt the familiar tingle of a sodding tripping jinx and he pitched forward into the nearby suit of armor. "Watch it!' the thing shouted.

"Sorry," Harry grumbled, mildly surprised that it talked and seriously sore that someone had the audacity to fucking jinx him.

He turned to reign down retribution on whatever unfortunate sod had their wand out when he was met by the grim-bearded face not even a foot away from him. They stared at one another for a short moment. Just when Harry was about to bolt, he spoke. "If you run, I'll tackle you."

Harry closed his eyes in silent mortification. There'd be nothing more embarrassing, honestly. Accepting the oncoming shame, he cast a straightening charm on his robes and rose purposefully. "Alright, let's get this over with then."

The dwarf pulled a parchment from out of its diaper (Harry winced) and cleared its throat purposefully.

"His eyes are as green as a fresh pickled toad, His hair is as dark as a blackboard. I wish he was mine, he's really divine, the hero who conquered the Dark Lord!"

The thing had the audacity to sing that monstrosity of a poem! Harry's mask wasn't made of stone and he was sure his dismay for the entire situation was more than palpable to the group of students that had gathered to witness this crime against humanity. 'I wonder if it says something about me that I found this same situation funny when it happened to someone else...?'

Harry didn't care much for that particular exercise of introspection but would gladly negotiate with Helena or Queenie to teach him some basic warding so that next time he'd at least keep others from hearing things he rather keep to himself. To make matters worse, before the dwarf tottered off it threw three handfuls of confetti at Harry. ('Where was he storing the confetti?' Harry thought with rising hysteria as he was inundated with laughter from his so-called allies and housemates. ) "You're right, Harry," Draco grinned as the rest of their group finally joined him. "These messengers are hilarious."

"I'm going to curse Lockhart if it is the last thing I do," Harry swore as he dusted confetti hearts off his robes.

Draco, Blaise, and Goyle were still stuck at different levels of amusement at the horror show that had just transpired in the hallways. Vincent had been kind enough to at least not laugh after Harry had been threatened by a dwarf and been forced to listen to the absolute worst piece of poetry he had ever heard. (He had still grinned widely, but it was a sight more composed than anyone else.)

"Don't be too put out," Greg said as a peace offering. "No one's given the rest of us a poem. Only Draco's gotten one so far."

"When compared to the literary genius that came up with 'his eyes are as green as a fresh pickled toad', I'm almost pleased with 'He shines like polished silver'," Draco chuckled.

Harry wished they all would shut up. "The next person to quote that horror show will be hexed." With that decree he departed his group of classmates.

"Where are you going?"

He didn't bother to turn around to answer Vince. "Away from you lot! I will see you at dinner." And with that Harry took his leave. It was time for him to meet up with Cedric anyway. When Harry arrived to the classroom they had dueling practice in (thinking of all the curses and hexes he knew of that could be reasonably cast in a Defense lesson and permanently disfigure Lockhart), there was another bloke leaning against the sole desk in the room, laughing animatedly. He was tall too but where Cedric was sunlight this bloke was simmering embers. His hair was a dark auburn with streaks of flame running through and catching one's eyes (at least until one saw that his eyes were a golden honey like living amber). His skin was the same warm sand shade of Cedrics. A quidditch player. "Harry," Cedric greeted upon catching sight of him.

Like a complete and utter berk Harry had stopped in his tracks in the doorway to gape at the newcomer. Because Harry apparently had the tact of a rampaging erumphent.

"This is my friend, Alec MacFusty. Alec, this is Harry."

"Dinnae think I'd actually get to meet you what with Cedric here keeping you to 'imself," he held out a golden tanned hand that was covered in cuts, scratches, and scars. "Call me Alec."

Harry reached out and clasped arms with the newcomer. MacFusty was an old clan. Really old. About as old as the founders houses and all of them had died out over the years. The MacFusty clan were the sole caretaker for the Hebridean Black dragons on an island dragon reserve off the west coast. Lucius complained that they were hermits that rarely ventured off their island but also never let any Ministry officials to enter either. Even the MLE had to jump through hoops to get an apparition approval to enter the wards that was only useable for a two hour time frame.

Harry doesn't think Lucius knows there is a MacFusty at Hogwarts, otherwise he would have surely set Draco after him. "Harry," he offered in turn. "Your hair is amazing."

Immediately Harry flushed in embarasment. 'Idiot. What do you think you're doing?'

Thankfully the other boy threw back his head and laughed. It was a bark of a laugh completely different from Cedric's booming sound and Draco's snickers.

Harry frowned. 'What does Draco have to do with anything?'

"You're a pretty one, I'll give you that lad, but I'm already spoken for."

Harry's horror only increased. "Oh no--I didn't-- I mean I wasn't-- I'm not really thinking about courting right now and probably won't for a few years yet."

This time both Cedric and Alec laughed. The only thing that kept Harry from fleeing was the arm from MacFusty that wrapped around his shoulders and pulled him bodily into a warm chest. "You need to loosen up. I was just teasing, Harry. Truth is if it weren't for my fiance, I wouldn't mind your company." he winked at Harry making the blood rush hotter to his face.

"Leave off it," Cedric grinned at the two of them. "I thought you wanted to see him duel not flirt."

"And so I did. What do ya say: care to take me for a spin?"

Harry scowled at the pair but felt the edges of his lips quirk up. If his ears were red the entire time they were practicing then both boys mercifully didn't comment about it. By the time he parted ways with the two fifth years right before the dinner hour he was in a much better mood. One look at Zabini's smarmy face ruined it instantly. "Not one word," Harry warned the Italian as he sat down, "I will hex you."

"Harold's in a bad mood. What did you do to my darling, Zabini?"

Harry scowled at Helena but accepted the pumpkin juice when she passed the pitcher to him. "I'm not in a bad mood. Some of my classmates are entertaining a foolish idea and need reminding that I bested a sixth year in a duel and am more than capable of handing their arse to them if they pursue it any further."

Helena arched an eyebrow as she tucked a stray curl behind Harry's ear. His hair was beginning to become just slightly more unruly than was acceptable for the messy style he was carefully maintaining. He would have to do another sleekeazy treatment tonight. "Do I need to step in?"

Conversation near them halted at Helena's words. Despite her normal teasing nature around their year thanks to her cousin being Theodore Nott and her fondness for Harry, Helena Dodderidge was a fierce and terrifying woman within their hierarchy. She had been unchallenged since her first year as the undisputed head of her year and was ranked only second to McGregor who was Head Boy this year. When Helena threatened to step in on his behalf, it was not something anyone took lightly. He smiled softly at her, his sour mood alleviated at her unexpected show of support. "No, Helena. Zabini's just being a git."

Her affable smile came back in the next second and loosened the rising tension at the table. "You taking the piss on Harrison? That's hardly something a prospective ally should bother with."

"I'd never laugh at a prospective ally," Blaise grinned devilishly, "Besides, Harry's really divine. It would be rude." At those words the italian jumped up from his seat but couldn't avoid the stinging hex Harry threw at him-- and Draco when the blond laughed as well. "I received one of Lockhart's stupid love grams," he explained to Helena who looked amused at the younger student's antics.

"Oohhh... Harold's got himself a girlfriend has he?" Helena was beaming, an expression that incited terror in any who truly knew her. "Can't say I saw that one coming. I thought for sure he'd be family."

The sound that came from Nott's mouth that time sounded like a scream surfacing from the depths of a bottomless pit. It was quiet and tinny but no less filled with mortifying terror. By this point, Harry felt truly bad for the boy and wished to obliviate whatever knowledge he had that allowed him to translate Helena's odd ramblings to english. Catching her cousin's tortured sound Helena grinned. "Not for you, dear cousin. Someone like him would have standards and would expect a certain level of dominance in his life. Cedric was sure to be a good stepping stone for his future dom, but it seems he came all too late."

Blaise's eyes flashed in understanding. "Oh." Then his nose wrinkled and his face scrunched up. "Oh! That's horrid. Vincent would be more suitable if you want a more assertive person for him."

Helena's grin sharpened. "You think so, Zabini? Not in the running yourself?"

Harry's gaze traveled around the group in confusion. Nott looked to be praying to the gods, but thankfully Draco and Vince looked just as confused as he. (Or rather Vince looked to be a tad bored but that was his default expression.) Zabini scoffed. "Too pretty for my taste and I'm the sort of bloke that likes to be worshipped." He said all of this with a coquettish smile on his lips that looked very handsome if Harry was ignorant as to his more negative personality traits. (There were a lot and they had the horrible habit of sprouting up right when you were about to forget how much an arse he really was.)

Draco snorted. "Worshipped? You?! Who in their right mind would worship you?"

Blaise smile widened. "I have no doubt I'm in for a long wait but when one sees their ambition laid bare they are not apt to stray."

"I knew it!" crowed Helena completely covering Nott's attempts to bludgeon his head against the large wooden table. (Harry was wondering if he should get someone to pose an intervention at this point...)

Draco scowled at the both of them and lifted his chin pointedly. "Well I don't know at all what you're nattering on about. Either of you."

"It's for the best I reckon," Harry said catching Vince's eyes with a questioning gaze.

Vincent shook his head. It seemed he was just as lost as them. Harry would ask Goyle but he feared the other boy would actually know what was going on. There were just some things Harry was better off not knowing and by Nott's antics, it was best to never speak fluent 'Helena'.

A/N: I know it's been a long time coming by here are the rewritten chapters I promised last year. I'm posting a bunch of chapters all at once-- many of which have been rewritten and the last of which is an update. Because of this it might be helpful to reread at least from chapter 8 onwards where a lot of the additional scenes begin cropping up. That also means the author note will be identical for half of the chapters so every reader that's already started the story knows what's going on. I thank everyone for their patience.


Aerialas