Everyone he mentioned the whole matter with Moody to was as mystified as him. Ron and Luna, briefly disentangled, explained that an unbreakable vow wasn't literally unbreakable.
"Well it's unbreakable in that if you break it, you die instantly." Luna said nonchalantly.
Both of them were red-faced and panting from exertion when he had found them, Luna being chased by Ron after she had slipped him a potion that made his arms turn backward.
"Yeah, they're great for that," Ron said, trying to scratch his nose by having to reach all the way around his head with his backward arms, "Fred and George tried to get me to do one in exchange for a stack of chocolate frog cards when I was about Five."
Luna gasped, looking horrified.
"Yeah, I know. I was holding hands with Fred and everything when dad found us. He went mental, but I didn't know why at the time. Fred say's his backside's never been the same since."
Harry had never heard the normally placid Mr. Weasley losing his temper before – except for the time he ended up in a brawl with Lucius Malfoy outside Flourish and Blotts. While Mrs. Weasley could be seen chasing Ron or one of the twins with a wooden spoon on any day ending in Y, Harry struggled to recall any instance of him even raising his voice to one of his children.
"Serious business, then." Harry said. "You do know how to fix his arms, right Luna?"
She grinned wickedly. "Maybe." Then, stealing a look at Ron, darted off down the corridor who followed, his backward arms flailing weirdly, like a bird with broken wings.
Harry found Pansy at lunch with Sophia and Tracey. Choosing to not mention his conversation with Moody in the company of people he didn't know well, he sat and started assembling a sandwich.
"You know what?" Sophia said, looking up at the snow white ceiling of the Great Hall.
"Go on." Pansy said, dabbing at a corner of her mouth with a napkin.
"I'm really bloody done with winter now. It's been ages since there was no snow on the ground." Sophia said grumpily and pushing away her plate with a petulant flourish.
"It won't be long now until the last frost." Said Tracey, rolling her eyes at another return to Sophia's favourite gripe.
"I don't know how you cope with it, Pans."
Pansy, trying to cut her friend off before she got going with a rant raised a hand. "I know, I know: It's so much colder than down in Dorset, 'I don't know how you cope with the cold', and all that. But Sophia, sweetie, we've covered this."
"At length." Added Tracey.
"I just realised," Harry said, leaning in close to Pansy and catching a hint of her cool scent as his nose brushed her hair, "I have no idea where you live."
She turned her head to him, brushing his nose with hers." Just this little village near Lyme Regis, called Seaton?"
Harry shrugged, never having heard of it.
"It's nice. There's this little wizards' quarter there that muggles can't see, so it's pretty private. There's a stone beach about…" she weighed the distance in her head, "a quarter, third of a mile from our garden. It's lovely, I can't wait to show you."
"Sounds nice, I can't remember the last time I sat on a beach, you know." Harry said wistfully.
"Well you'll see it in a few weeks – get the second task out of the way, then there's about four weeks until the break. Three weeks together – imagine that." She whispered, her voice full of promise.
"You know I'm still bricking that? Meeting your parents."
She laughed, little more than a puff of bright breath against his cheek. "You've already met them. Look, if you're worried, we'll take them gifts. Get my dad a good bottle of Shiraz and mum… well I'll think about that. They'll love you – they already did at the ball."
She had a way of putting him at ease. He took a breath and leant his head against hers for a moment, the contact dispelling his anxieties.
"Well, Harry?" Tracey said, apparently annoyed at asking him the same thing twice.
"Hmm?" Harry asked, drawing back from Pansy's cool, comforting aura.
Tracey rolled her eyes. "I asked: what're you planning on doing when you finish school?"
Harry shrugged. "Hopefully surviving this year first."
Sophia guffawed, always full of gallows humour as Pansy squeezed his shoulder.
He cleared his throat. "Seriously though, I've never really thought about it much – the tournament is kind of eating me alive at the moment."
There was an uncomfortable silence, with furtive, somewhat embarrassed glances passed between the Slytherin girls.
"What about you?" Harry asked Pansy, more than an hour later as they reclined together on a long sofa in the library.
"Hmm?" she asked.
"When we leave here; what do you want to do?"
She shrugged. "I don't really know. Part of me wants to study at L'ila Stelle: they have an amazing geomancy area devoted to some really old, deep magic. But at the same time, there's a chance I'll end up with Uncle Barty's Wizenagemot seat if no other Crouch's come forward." She sat up and wrinkled her nose, looking like she was going to speak again, but stopped.
"What?" Harry asked.
"Nothing, just being silly."
Harry frowned. "Come on, you're never silly." And
It was true. It was one of the best things about Pansy: she could be amusing, and laugh until the point of struggling to breathe or passing out. But she was never silly. She never gossiped and giggled behind her hand like so many of the other girls in their year. She seemed to know instinctively when and how to let herself go.
"I don't want to scare you." She said, avoiding his eye.
"There's nothing you can say to scare me. I'm going in a week and I have to rely on a potion being prepared by Snape of all people."
She smiled. "Well… there is one thing I'm definite about my future."
Harry felt his heart speed up. "Mmm?"
"I want a big family, I want to fill my world with babies and kids and relatives and friends. I hate how so many wizarding families – especially the old ones – just get their heir and call it a day. Just look at the effect that has: Draco, Theo, Crabb, Tracey – they're all only kids with all that pressure on their shoulders."
Harry nodded, not really having reached the latter half of her confession. He was stuck, basking in the sudden mental image of a big old house filled with gleefully rampaging children with toy broomsticks, black hair and blue-green eyes. It was beautiful.
"Oh, I haven't scared you off, have I?" Pansy asked, nervous and a little defensive.
He shook his head. "No chance. I was just picturing it – a big house, loads of kids. It's nice."
She nodded and leaned back against him. "I've always wanted a big family."
"You know I'm one of those only kid, big wizarding family cases?"
She wriggled back against him. "Don't I know it. I'm surrounded by you needy, powerful idiots, all desperate to prove how big your wands are."
Harry suppressed a laugh as Madam Pince craned her neck around a bookcase at the other end of the library.
"I imagine Tracey has a big old wand." He whispered to her.
"You better believe it."
They spent the evening in the junior potions room, shucking the hard casings from bouncing bulbs, checking the wings of dozens of flitterbys for signs of illness and stripping the stamen and stigma from a large bundle of fresh foxgloves.
It was repetitive work, but Snape had left them alone a few minutes after they started and they were allowed to talk freely.
"No, I think you're ready, honestly." Pansy said, after Harry had revealed his ongoing anxieties about the task. "There aren't many non-NEWTs who can touch you in a duel now; your swimming is getting much better and now we have Professor snape rehydrating that gillyweed, I don't think you'll have much of a problem."
Harry shrugged. "Maybe. I'm more concerned about what the others are going to be doing. I think that this task is going to be a big step up from the first."
She agreed and successfully diverted the conversation to what gift he was going to buy her parents when he visited over Easter, which consumed most of half an hour of shucking and marking.
At one point, Harry paused and stretched, catching a shape in the corner of his vision.
Snape stood at the entrance to the room, very still. Harry nodded to him and Snape looked from Him to Pansy and back before returned the gesture, his lank hair waving.
Then he left, his cloak wafting in his wake.
They didn't hear from Snape again for more than an hour. Almost on cue, as they were laying out the final trays of separated foxglove parts, the potions Master just appeared as he so often did.
He looked down his long nose at the trays and sacks and nodded curtly. "That will do. I'm sure you'll be pleased to know, Mr. Potter that your gillyweed is rehydrating well. I think in the next twenty-four hours it will be ready to be processed."
"That's wonderful, Professor." Pansy said, smiling.
Snape sighed at the interruption as usual. "Will you be wanting me to make the actual potion for you too? It's quite complex."
Harry shook his head, annoyed by the challenge and Snape not being able to attempt a dig at his potioneering. "No Professor, I was going to do it myself."
Snape's nostrils flared. "I would emphasise, Potter that we only have enough gillyweed for a single attempt at this potion – and as I say, it is quite complex."
Pansy cleared her throat. "I think what Harry meant to say Professor, is that we have a good grasp on the method, but that your more experienced hand and supervision would be appreciated?"
She glared at Harry who glared back before turning to Snape.
"Yes, Professor," Harry said, the words almost sticking in his throat, "Your direction and… expertise would be appreciated."
Snape almost smiled at Pansy's diplomacy, but shifted the upturn at the corners of his mouth into a sucking of his teeth. "So be it, I appreciate your ambition, Potter. The gillyweed will be ready – all being well – in the small hours of the day after tomorrow. So tomorrow you can sort through the flobberworms and on Friday we can set about starting your Draught of Water Wandering. We will need to reconvene early Saturday to complete it as it needs to simmer for several hours."
Harry, surprised that their discussion hadn't descended into the normal snide remarks and criticism, nodded. "Thank you, Professor Snape. I really appreciate your help with this."
Pansy beamed at him.
Snape looked down at both of them then cleared his throat. From within his robes he withdrew two paper folders. "Your essays on aging potions." He said, handing them back. "I just marked them and feel… compelled to congratulate both of you in the main. Should these have been OWL essays, they would both be secure passes that come close to Exceeds Expectations standard. But don't," he laid heavy emphasis on the word, pointing a long, pale finger at Harry, "let that go to your head, Potter. Your work has shown a distinct improvement this year so far and I expect it to continue. Now leave, the pair of you, so I can repair the mess you've made of this room."
They both hustled to their feet and toward the door, knowing full well that the room was cleaner than they'd found it.
Harry stopped, his hand on the doorknob and turned back to Snape, who was distributing the various ingredients across the tables. "Professor?"
Snape looked up and ran his hand through his sheet of black hair. "Mr. Potter?"
"Thank you, for all your help."
Snape didn't respond. It was like he had been frozen in place for a few seconds, before he made the smallest nod of his head and turned away from them.
Pansy opened the door and led Harry away.
