(A/N): Due to the ridiculous length some of these chapter titles are gonna get, I've decided to start posting shortened versions in both 's and, Archive of Our Own's given spaces and then again in their full length just before the chapter starts.

We also have some fairly cliche angsty moments here, in the beginning, so please bear with me.

It also came to my attention that I kinda made a stupid ass mistake last chapter and basically completely forgot about the sling Harry wore due to his arm injury. I went back and updated that chapter after being notified, I hope it's up to y'all's standards.

I hope you enjoy, any and all mistakes are my own!

Chapter title "What Is Coming, Has Begun.

It's Something That You Gotta See. We Lie And Say That It's Too Late for Some Redemption." Taken from Critical Darling - Slipknot.


Chapter 8: What Is Coming, Has Begun. It's Something That You Gotta See. We Lie And Say That It's Too Late for Some Redemption


Harry was thoroughly convinced he was soon to snap. His display in the first task had done wonders to bolster his social status within Hogwarts, and he couldn't have hated it more. With each suggestive cat-call of his name, each exuberant question thrown his way, Harry could feel his ire swell within him, covering him like a cloak.

A small margin of the school population even dared to insinuate that he shouldn't have been hanging out with Daphne and Tracey; that he was too good for them. The unsavory titles the ignorant git's had chosen to use to describe the two, had Harry tense his jaw and curl his hands more than once. His scar would pulse, creating a throbbing ache just underneath his skull

He needed to vent; to release the pent up aggression and wrath that had been boiling just underneath his skin since the start of the day. The feeling left his skin burning; sweltering with an uncomfortable itch that no amount of breathing techniques could quell. He had thanked Daphne for teaching him all she had known on keeping his temper in check, shortly after they first met; but as the school's population ridiculed her and all she knew, all she had taught him had washed away in his river of anger.

Part of him didn't understand just why his anger was as severe as it was. This was nothing he hadn't dealt with before; the name-calling, the teasing of his friends, and the sudden swooning and appreciation of his existence. So why was it affecting him so rawly now?

With a groan, Harry rubbed his forehead with his non-slung hand. Daphne was due to return tomorrow, and Tracey had more than made up for their friend's short departure. All he had to do was focus on that, Tracey always helped calm him. Her amber eyes glowing brightly in the sunlight, wavy auburn hair flowing freely. The ways her fingertips would just barely graze over his flesh would always leave him a shuddering mess.

While she hadn't been showering him in affection recently, per se, after their frolic along the Black Lake days prior, she was definitely getting a lot more… touchy. She would often sneak up behind Harry; jumping up to violently wrap her arms around his neck, dragging the Seeker downwards to stuff her head between his shoulder blades, only relinquishing her hold if he winced or hissed in pain. Her beanie would often tickle his neck whenever she rested her head near or on his shoulders. There were soft, lingering touches on his forearm whenever they stuck close together. Her knuckles even brushed against his, every so often when they walked side by side.

For a pitiful moment, Harry believed that maybe, just maybe, Tracey wanted to be more than just best friends.

Those thoughts were quickly banished to a box deep in Harry's mind.

Tracey was joyful, sharp, bursting with life and energy. Harry was glum; shaken, scarred, and dulled. He was damaged. Tracey didn't deserve someone damaged.

Harry softly massaged the space Tracey's headwear would prickle against, his calloused fingers grazing over the softer flesh as if it were a foreign land. The goosebumps that followed sent a pleasant tingle down his spine, a lingering sigh escaping his mouth at the contact.

Harry thanked the gods that no one was around to hear the noise. He also had to thank Madam Pomfrey's harsh regiment of numbing charms and Skele-Grows that allowed him to pull the feats he did days prior. Grabbing Tracey by the collar and landing roughly on his back still hurt of course, but it was a lot tamer than it would've been.

"Pomfrey's going to kill me," Harry mused, a small grin tugging at his lips at the thought of the Medi-Witch ever finding out about his latest activities.

His thoughts trailed off from Tracey and her antics to the golden egg that sat in front of him; seemingly taunting his every move. Nearly four days had passed since he and Tracey had last discussed it, and he still hasn't solved its mystery. His Slytherin friend often offered her confections as a sort of payment for putting up with the egg.

Coupled with the egg were the constant reminders of the Yule Ball. Each time Harry mentioned it around Tracey, she'd bristle significantly; begin to ponder over something before patting Harry's arm to simply say "wait." Harry had racked his brain, wondering just what "wait," meant. Was she telling him to wait for Daphne to return to ask her? Did Tracey already have a date, and he was just making himself look like a fool as he insinuated who he wanted to ask as a date? Harry rationalized his thoughts as overthinking, but the fears remained.

With a less pleased sigh this time, Harry moved to complete a grueling Potions essay Snape had assigned, debating whether to work on it the Gryffindor Common Room, the Hogwarts Library, or the Room of Requirement. The minuscule - almost pointless - decisions as simple as where to complete an essay helped him alleviate the stress of the tournament; they helped him feel like a normal student again.

Harry, unfortunately, had to boil down his wishes to be a normal person down to wishful thinking, much to his chagrin.

Was wanting to have a normal school year such a daunting request?


She couldn't handle this; she couldn't hold herself back. The ache. The pure need. For four days, her mind was plagued with the feeling of him underneath her. His good arm wrapped securely around her waist; his face pressed firmly into the crook of her neck. The warmth of his breath trickling down her spine, and the feel of his teeth grating softly against her flesh had left her a sodding mess.

What she wouldn't have given to have his arm trail downwards; to have that war-torn limb finally meet her. The thought alone had Tracey whimpering in dissatisfaction. Age and location be damned, she wanted - needed - to feel Harry again; to feel safe and loved in his arms again.

He touched her as if she were a renaissance painting; nothing but respect and appreciation oozing from his fingertips as they trailed over her body.

Tracey knew she had told Daphne that after the holidays, that's when they'd make their moves on their mutual friend. But that day spent deep within Hogwarts' forest had changed her plans. They needed to tell him, and it needed to be now.

The only problem that presented itself was the Yule Ball. If they told him now; if Tracey presented her little workaround for the mutual feelings of three people, who was he to take as a date to the dreaded ball? Tracey racked her mind, day in and day out, looking, hoping, pleading, for a solution. Tracey knew that she couldn't hold a candle to Daphne in that regard.

Sure, she knew how to dance and was now hellbent on teaching Harry all that she knew. But she lacked the elegance - the poise - to be a proper date to such a dance.

Daphne could offer her professional mannerisms; holding the ability to guide Harry away from unwanted attention and guests with a practiced ease only Purebloods were common with. All Tracey could really present was an endless bundle of energy and lots and lots of dancing.

And judging by Harry's reaction to the prospect of dancing before her offer of teaching him, he didn't seem too excited by the idea of constant swaying and pirouetting.

Tracey let out a huff of air, wetting her lips in a sign of annoyance.

"Why can't things ever be easy?" She brooded, frowning at the ceiling of her dormitory as if it were the entity that destined her to a - not yet existent, but quickly becoming - complicated love-life.

Her hands fumbled around for her pockets, delving in deep in search of one of her lollipops. Tracey didn't know if she could live without the round confections. An unhealthy addiction no doubt, but the way their sweet flavors perused on her tongue, surprising her with each drop of colored saliva had always left her wanting more.

Her fingers grasped the handle of one of the treats, pulling it out, Tracey conducted a quick inspection. A purple, grape-flavored lollipop rolled between her fingertips. Quickly unwrapping it, Tracey placed her confection on her tongue, marveling at the way the saccharine taste flooded her sense of taste.

The effect was instantaneous; the sweetness of the treat calming Tracey's nerves quick enough to allow her to think clearly. She needed a plan; she needed to know how to act on and conduct her thoughts, that much was obvious. Simply going up to Harry, telling him, and hoping for the best was the worst option. No, if they were going to do this, they needed to have a long, mature discussion on it.

Tracey let out a second annoyed huff.

"Kill me now," she thought bitterly. She would've prayed for anything but a tedious, maddening, mature discussion. Merlin, she could feel her eyelids closing already at the prospect.

Tracey rubbed her face in her hands. If they were going to do this, dare she say it.

She needed Granger.


"Granger!"

Hermione whirled around in the barren hallway, her textbooks hugged tightly to her chest as if acting as a shield. The only other person in the hallway, Tracey Davis, was marching with a determined pep. Marching towards her. Hermione bristled herself as the Slytherin drew closer, her mind racing for explanations as to why the girl had both called out to and was approaching her.

"Yes, Davis?" Hermione's tone was polite, yet firm. Guarded, yet open to the idea of actual conversation.

Tracey came to a stop mere feet away, hands stuffed dutifully into her pockets; her eyes darting to look at everything but the Muggle-born witch. Hermione had released a small breath, the Slytherin seemed just as tense about this situation as she was.

Tracey spat a used lollipop stick out of her mouth, tossing it into her left pocket before retrieving a new treat from the opposite one. Hermione stared wide-eyed at the speed at which Tracey unwrapped the confection to quickly begin feasting on it.

"I need your help," The Slytherin blurted out, her amber eyes quickly latching onto Hermione's soft brown ones with a pleading stare, a hint of desperation creeping into her brownish-yellow pools. "It's a... Harry related situation."

Hermione's stature softened instantly; her brown eyes calming at the revelation quickly. Suddenly her scathing attitude seemed too harsh.

"Oh," she muttered, her voice much quieter than the Muggle-born would've liked. The uncertainty that crept into her tone was far too apparent. "Is he… has he been alright, recently?"

Tracey's own stressed grimace slackened, her amber eyes losing their pleading appearance to make way for a much happier light. Her ruby red lips also quirked upwards into a soft smile at Hermione's question.

"He's been great," Tracey answered quietly, tossing her lollipop around with her tongue shortly after her response. "I don't think I've ever seen him happier… granted, I've only known him for a handful of weeks."

Hermione's brow furrowed at the admittance; her mouth curling into a sad, small smile as she clutched her books tighter to her body.

"That's… that's good," it sounded as if the Muggle-born was talking more to herself than the girl in front of her. Tracey quirked an eyebrow but didn't comment on the action.

Shaking her head softly, Hermione focused her attention on the Slytherin in front of her; seemingly deeming her a non-threat if her now relaxed body language was anything for Tracey to go off of.

"What is it you need my help with?" Tracey sucked a breath in between her teeth at the question, making an odd hissing noise as she thought over her next words carefully. Tracey had to silently thank Hermione for not reacting to the odd screech her mouth had produced.

"What do you think is the best way to tell Harry, something… something big?" Tracey made a gesture with her hands at the term 'big.'

Hermione had furrowed her brows at the question, her lips quirking into a peculiar frown. Tracey watched as the Gryffindor's nose scrunched up in thought, her tongue just barely poking out from between her teeth.

"Well how… big, is this announcement?" Hermione prodded, shifting her body weight on the balls of her feet as she stood.

"His two best friends, er, new best friends, both harbor feelings for him, and one of them, wants to suggest a pol- poli- oh what's the bloody word…" Tracey trailed off, ducking her head down as she tapped a finger to her chin in contemplation.

"Polyamorous relationship?" Hermione suggested softly. Her mind was running a mile a minute just trying to comprehend what she was hearing, let alone why her help was needed.

Tracey's head shot up in an instant, a wide smile stretching her face as she snapped her fingers. "That's it!"

Hermione stood, her jaw slack and her eyes wider than she thought possible. Wetting her lips, Hermione tried helplessly to fix her composure.

"And why exactly do you need my help?" Hermione found herself asking. Her voice came out much harsher than she intended, but she paid it little mind.

Tracey's lax smile grew terse, steadying herself with a few short breaths as she searched for her words. She was determined not to mess this up.

"You've known Harry longer. The way I see it, you'd know the best way to present something like this to him, without having him freak out," Tracey stated kindly, her hands clasped together in front of her stomach, her thumbs twiddling in a nervous gesture.

Hermione's lips pressed into a thin line, her eyes and brow crinkling in thought. The Gryffindor sent two fleeting looks down the hallway they stood in, gesturing with her head for Tracey to follow her. Tracey was quick to abide, staying a respectable distance away from Hermione as she led her through the twisting hallways. It was a quiet venture, neither girls taking the risk to start a conversation; an unspoken truce of silence flowed between them.

The trip was no longer than a few minutes; Hermione led Tracey to a barren classroom to keep their conversation private. Hermione did one last double-take down either end of their new hallway before entering the empty room. Tracey followed suit, quickly ducking in as Hermione shut the door behind them.

After casting a handful of silencing and privacy charms, Hermione spun on her heel to face her unlikely companion, eyeing the girl with a calculating gaze as she placed her books down on a nearby desktop. Her lips were still compressed together into that thin line of caution.

"I'm going to preface this conversation with what I told Greengrass weeks earlier," Hermione started, her voice holding no room for argument. Tracey merely nodded at the statement.

Sucking in a tense breath, Hermione started her declaration. "Harry and I may not be on the best of terms right now, but I still care about him a great deal. That being said, if I help you, you must promise me one thing."

Tracey nodded in agreement to the conditions, all the while waiting patiently as Hermione seemingly studied her. Tracey squirmed slightly under the intense gaze of the resident bookworm, her lips falling into a frown as she awaited the terms of Hermione's promise.

The Gryffindor nodded to herself, her eyes crinkling into a self-assured smile as she let out another terse breath.

"Whatever you do. Don't hurt Harry."

Tracey bristled significantly, her face contorted in annoyance as she prepared to defend herself. Hermione seemed to expect the reaction, as the Gryffindor raised her hand to stop Tracey from ranting.

"And I'm not saying that because of your house. It's just…" Hermione bit her bottom lip in contemplation, her eyes flicking to the ground as she thought hard. "I don't think Harry has the best home life, and I want to make sure that while he's still here, he has something to look forward to."

Tracey's anger died on her tongue, confusion overtook her annoyance in an instant. Her eyes squinted together, as her lips parted as if to speak. Nothing came out.

"I'm sure you've noticed it too. The way he tenses up if you hug him, or touch him abruptly," Tracey nodded shakily, her jaw clamping shut as Hermione spoke. Tracey had hoped that was all the Gryffindor had to say, but she continued. "And that's not all, he reacts rather poorly to certain words and sounds too."

Hermione suddenly shook her head, as if she were disagreeing with herself. "No, 'reacts poorly', isn't the best description."

Tracey waited patiently for Hermione to formulate her sentence the way she wanted, watching as the bookworm tapped her chin thoughtfully.

"He doesn't tense up the same way he would if you touch him, he just becomes more… alert?" Hermione nodded to herself, seemingly pleased with her assessment. "Normally when he hears 'boy' or 'freak'; even when a door is slammed."

"While I appreciate the information, Granger, how exactly is this supposed to help my dilemma?"

Hermione's cheeks reddened at the question, the sudden realization that she had nearly slipped into one of her tirades sending a wave of embarrassment through her. Hermione clutched at her arm awkwardly, looking down at the cobble floors with a newfound interest.

"Sorry," she muttered under her breath, her lips pursing together as she craned her head to look at Tracey. "I just don't want Harry to be hurt anymore than he already has."

Tracey had to repress the scathing laughter that threatened to bubble out. The irony was far from lost on the Slytherin.

"And you told Daffy all of this as well?" It took Hermione a few seconds to figure out who Tracey was referring, but as it clicked in her head, a dejected frown stretched its way onto Hermione's face; the Gryffindor shaking her head in denial.

"I was planning to, honestly, but… she- well she sort of ran away before I got the chance to do so," Tracey nodded her head fervently to end the conversation. The sudden realization that they were once again diverting away from the main topic of their impromptu meeting dawning on her.

"I'll be sure to relay the message, Granger," Tracey made a stiff gesture with her head, her mouth suddenly becoming barren of moisture as the next sentence left her. "But, we need to focus on the problem at hand."

Hermione bobbed her head in agreement. Her nose and eyes crinkled in thought, her tongue hurting out of her mouth to moisten her lips. It didn't take long for Hermione to begin pacing in a small circle in the barren classroom, the resounding clicks and clacks of her shoes against the cold, stone echoed in their current abode.

"Well, given what we were just discussing, the best course of action would be to tell Harry slowly," Hermione started, no longer pacing around the room, but her eyes remained plastered on the floor. "Don't just look him in the eye and say you 'love him,' be very deliberate with your intentions.

"Harry takes something like love, extremely seriously Davis, the last thing you want to do is warp his thoughts on the matter."

Tracey nodded along to the explanation, subconsciously twirling her lollipop in her mouth almost anxiously.

"If… if my suspicions are correct about his relatives, then If Harry holds the same feelings that you do for the two of him, he might now know exactly what it is he's feeling, so you're going to have to be patient with him while he figures out his emotions," Hermione warned, adopting a no-nonsense tone as if she were talking to a younger child. If Tracey was annoyed by Hermione's choice of attitude, she hid it well.

"If you're going to try and talk to him about his much more personal life, do not pry or beg him to talk," Hermione hissed in a breath as if she were talking from experience. Tracey agreed once more at Hermione's directions as the Gryffindor continued. "The only thing you're going to accomplish if you do that is cause him to clam up and become defensive.

"That being said, if you are one-hundred percent serious about this-"

"Which I am."

Hermione scowled slightly as Tracey cut her off; her glare meeting a firm look of solemnity. Hermione studied the girl's look for a few moments before quickly recuperating from the interruption.

"If you're one-hundred percent serious about this, I implore you to make an effort to break through Harry's shell," Hermione furrowed her brows, tapping her chin in thought as she diverted her attention away from Tracey for a few moments.

"I believe that's everything you'll need to know. When are you planning on telling him?" Hermione raised her head in questioning, watching as Tracey pondered over her query.

"Daffy's returning tomorrow, and I'll have to clue her into all of this…" Tracey trailed off, muttering a few sentences to herself as her face curled strangely in thought.

Adjusting the beanie on her head, Tracey gave the Gryffindor in front of her an earnest look.

"Three to four days, assuming there are no hiccups along the way," Tracey said, her jaw quirking ever so slightly as if fighting a smile.

Hermione smiled bitter-sweetly, grabbing a handful of her bushy mane between her fingers to twirl it around. Tracey felt a spark of empathy shoot through her.

"Well, I wish you three luck," The Gryffindor's voice was hollow, the false enthusiasm mirroring her melancholic expression.

Hermione gave Tracey a nod of good faith, turning around and opening the empty classroom's door while picking up her books in a swift motion. Tracey felt her body react faster than her mind did.

"Granger, wait," Tracey called out. The Muggle-born witch froze in place, just barely turning her head to show her attentiveness. Tracey swallowed thickly, her eyes widening slightly as she fought for words.

"Harry told us what happened between you three," Hermione flinched as Tracey finished her sentence, guilt, and shame shining in the girl's soft, brown eyes. "You two are going to apologize, right?"

Hermione stood silently in the doorway, her expression turning blank in its own shadow. Tracey swore she could hear her own heartbeat while the two stood in the hushed room.

"Yes," was the soft reply. "I don't know what good it will do, however."

Tracey pursed her lips; her mouth drying quickly. Another bout of sympathy filled her veins. The Slytherin opened her mouth to protest but was cut off as Hermione shook her head.

"Harry found you two," Hermione stated, turning fully to face Tracey, her poignant smile still present on her face. "Best case scenario, he forgives us and we remain friends, but…"

Hermione's eyes shone with a small sheet of tears, the Gryffindor sniffing to withhold her emotions.

"We won't be his best friends, anymore."

Tracey furrowed her brow, a frown crossing her features as a small surge of annoyance fought her sense of empathy.

"Well, keeping his friendship is better than nothing, is it not?" Tracey asked, taking a few steps closer to Hermione as she did so. "You don't have to be best friends to still care for each other."

Hermione nodded solemnly, inclining her head to give a small nod of thanks. The Gryffindor's jaw tensed slightly.

"Yes… yes, you're right," The bushy-haired witch muttered, wiping at her nose with her sleeve. "Thank you."

Tracey gave the Gryffindor her best comforting smile, giving her a nod to help try and soothe the emotional witch. With a weak smile, Hermione finally departed the classroom, a feeble shuffle in her steps. Tracey let out a pitying sigh as she watched the girl leave.

The privacy charms fizzled out of existence shortly after Hermione's withdrawal, leaving Tracey with her own thoughts. Wind pummeled against the windows of the classroom, large beams of light filtering through their foggy surfaces, basking the Slytherin in a bright glow. She chomped down onto her lollipop, the confection cracking under the pressure as Tracey began to leave the room.

Her thoughts were a jumbled mess, but a few key impressions had stuck with her. Most notably, were Harry's relatives. Her friend had never once brought them up during conversations; whenever the topic of 'family' was brought up, he would become quiet and withdrawn; slinking into the background as he listened intently.

And then Hermione had gone and revealed all that she had, leaving an unfillable hole in Tracey's gut. She didn't want to believe her racing thoughts and theories, but with every Hermione had shared.

Tracey shot the idea down. Unless Harry confirmed it for himself, then as long as Tracey was concerned, it wasn't true.

But despite her best efforts, the claw of fear remained firmly wrapped around her throat, choking her with worry.


(A/N): I'm honestly ashamed that something as simple as Harry wearing a sling, managed to slip my mind in the last chapter. Dear lord, I hope y'all can forgive me for that.

Anyways, I hope you enjoyed, I again apologize for my complete numbskullness in the last chapter, and I hope you stick around!