Hello everyone!
Just a couple of things. Due to my increasing work schedule(summer is very busy in my work), I will not be able to update at my usual pace. I just won't have enough time to write like I have been. I will try to write whenever possible but it'll be sporadic and when I'm not dead tired.
Since I already wrote the outline for this chapter and the 3rd part of this day, I shouldn't need too much time and it's my hope I can update next week, but if not, my apologies before hand.
I'm still trying to focus more on those around Harry and what they can possibly mean for him.
-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-=REVISED 7/16/2023=-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-
I had some time and thought I thought I'd do some simple revisions-mostly grammar stuff, but also including changing the narrative from present tense to simple past tense. Hopefully, it's a better read this way.
Enjoy!
A Complex Day Part II
"You, young man, have been in quite a number of my morning reading," Remus said, extending his hand and looking directly into Harry's eyes rather than the long scars on his face.
Remus squinted his eyes further in familiarity for a moment before Bill intervened by joking, "you reading Witch Weekly now, Remus?"
Lupin gave Bill a humored wary look before returning his focus to Harry. "Ares Flamel, correct?" Harry nodded timidly as he weakly shook his old professor's hand. "My name is Remus Lupin," he said, looking at Nova and adding, "And this must be your phoenix familiar. My, what an outstanding boon to have at such an early stage in your life. She's quite beautiful."
His voice, his weathered and disheveled look, his overall positive aura, Harry was forcefully dragged into his horrific memories, effortlessly faced with the recollection of Lupin's gruesome demise. In his timeline, Fenrir Greyback starved a pack of rabid, wild dogs for several days before setting them loose on the imprisoned and chained Lupin. He was ripped apart, screaming in agony for every conscious second. The pack devoured everything but the head, which they, of course, mounted on the wall in Harry's cell with the rest of his loved ones. Lately, Harry had been fortunate enough to see the heinous death of his favorite professor among others only in his nightmares, but to have the vivid memory forced on his fragile mind's eye during the day, in public, was highly debilitating.
Though lightheaded, Harry felt his heart beat uncontrollably fast. However, his primary focus wasn't his physical decline; it was controlling the wild, unbalanced magnitude of his massive magic. Using all of his Occlumancy to keep from causing accidental magic to wreak havoc in the pub, he fought to keep hidden from the adults in front of him how he was unraveling. Even his magical sight flared for a moment, highlighting the colorful auras of magic in the crowded room, informing him of errant intelligence, even telling him that Remus's magic had only recently settled after October's Hunter's Moon. If not for Nova's gentle peck at his head and soft calming song, Harry would be running out of the pub to find a place to calm down.
Harry cleared his dry throat. "…Her name is Nova," Harry saids in an oddly croaky tone, letting out a very nervous and volatile breath. "It's nice to meet you, Mr. Lupin."
Harry hoped the earlier tenseness between himself and Bill might mask how 'out of sorts' he was acting, and though they both give him cordially peculiar looks, they turned to one another as Bill asked, "What are you doing here? I heard you were abroad."
"That I was," Remus said with a smile. "But the tea isn't quite the same anywhere else, is it? So alas, I have returned," Remus explained. "I'm actually here to see Lily."
"We're just in here," Bill said, opening the door to the private room.
The three found more bodies than they had initially expected. The room was packed with Lily, Hardwin, Snape, Sirius, Tracey, Draco, Zabini, Daphne, Astoria, Hermione, Luna, Ginny, Gabrielle, Fleur, Nicolas, Perenelle, Flitwick, and Viktor Krum, all seated or standing around a long, set table. Harry's mind made the quick connections amid their grouping preference. Everyone was seated mostly by age, as Harry noted Lily, Snape, Flitwick, Nicolas, and Perenelle talking among themselves.
"Well, I'll be a pixie's loo," Sirius called out in surprise, drawing attention to the door. "Remus, you beautiful beast!"
Remus happily walked to the adults, completing the adults' section of the table just as Harry noticed the younger members, Gabrielle, Astoria, Luna, and Ginny, seated together toward the far end of the table. Draco was seated next to Tracey, a development that mildly surprised Harry and seemed to indicate maturing. The coupling that caused more nausea in his stomach and heavy anxiety in his mind was everyone else. Hardwin was on the other side of Sirius, greeting Remus—a place Harry could easily and vividly see himself in. Bill took the open seat beside Fleur, Hermione was next to Krum, Zabini was next to Daphne, with Astoria on her other side, and... everything was, to him, as it should be.
'So why am I here?' a voice in Harry questioned himself. The thoughts of Remus's death replayed in his mind, and the extreme trepidation of recalling it was felt in his entire tense body. He looked at the comfortable, almost family-like setting and couldn't help but think, 'What right do I have... to be here?'
His heart hammered painfully hard against his ribcage, and he was filled with a profound sense of self-loathing. Among these people, in their joys and even in their sorrows, he could clearly see he had no place. They all seemed at ease, in peace, not unlike how Bill said it should be. The crisis was over for them, as it should be, but it hadn't even begun for him. The girls laughed, smiled, and talked as content as the boys, and it all irked Harry, instilling a deep sense of doom, like the calm before the storm. His breathing accelerated again at the sight of how at ease they were, sitting there smiling, laughing, so openly. Remus hugging Sirius so hard, clearly elated to see his old friend, and it was all harrowing for Harry to spy upon.
"Ares?" Perenelle called, locking her curious eyes on him. When she stood up, he took a defensive step back, quick enough to make Nova flap her powerful wings to keep her balanced. Sensing her master's distress, Nova tried to calm him with her beautiful song, drawing more attention.
When Nicolas stepped beside Perenelle, Harry looked at them nervously, just understanding on a fundamental level that he could defend them, walk among them, converse with them, but he would never see a future as they did. The people in front of him enjoyed living and learning together, being friends and family with one another, having fun drinking and eating, watching Quidditch or dueling, and would continue to do so after Voldemort's complete demise. Meanwhile, the only thing Harry could possibly call joy in his life was killing Riddle once and for all. The way they happily looked at him to join them in a meal, when he had no plans on living past his goal, hurt him. He felt exposed in their eyes, vulnerable in the truth that their jubilation made him feel ugly somehow... wretched.
Nova continued singing her calming song as Nicolas cautiously asked, "Ares, what's wrong?" The step closer the older man took toward him was all Harry needed to turn around and escape at a dash. With deep yet shallow breaths and erratic unbalanced steps, Harry rushed out of the pub as fast as he could, pushing and shoving his way around unsuspecting bodies. He didn't even notice Nova was no longer on his shoulder as he took off running as fast as he could toward any space devoid of people, desperate to breathe again.
His rational mind caught up with his sprinting legs by the time he reached the Shrieking Shack, and he slowed to a stop. His self was identifying between a confusing smear of deep disgrace for himself and guilt for the many decapitated heads looking at him for an explanation. They said nothing, but he could see in their eyes how they blamed him.
"Get up," a small voice in his head said, and Harry realized he was on the ground, leaning against the wood post of what barely qualified as a fence. On the top of the post was Nova, singing her calming song, helping him recall the peace and balance within him. "Get up," he heard again, though more outside of his head now, and slightly out of breath.
Harry turned to find Draco, holding himself up by his knees, catching his breath. "Losing your shit… really does make you run faster."
"How'd you find me?" Harry lamely asked.
"Don't know," Draco answered, still trying to regain his rhythm. "Whenever I wonder about where you are, I get these vague instincts about which direction you might be."
"Oh," was all Harry said, mentally attributing the connection to the Loyalty Oath.
"What happened?" Draco asked. Harry didn't answer, so Draco erected a quick privacy charm and asked again. "Are you getting so emotional now, you can't answer a simple question, Potter? What happened?"
After a few moments, Harry casually asked, staring off into the distance, "…Does it hurt when you remember how shite of a father you were?" Despite the stab of pain in Draco's chest, Harry continued, "To know you were too weak to save one life, no matter how much that life meant to you?"
"…Fuck you," Draco returned, furious anger clear in his tone, but he managed to restrain himself from hitting Harry.
"Exactly," Harry said, unconcerned by the fitting response. "Guilt makes you angry. Guilt makes me run."
"That's not guilt," Draco angrily retorted. When Harry looked at him, slightly confused, Draco exhaled as much agitation out of his system as he could before answering with a clear edge in his tone, "Guilt is often misunderstood. You said guilt makes you run, but guilt refers more to a specific behavior. When the mind sees regretful action over and over, and you feel negative in some way about it, your mind is letting you know that behavior needs to change."
"You don't think I see their faces or think about all the shite that happens because of me," Harry asked him, aghast.
"I bet every galleon I have that you do," Draco answered. "I have no doubt you see it all the time; just like I see what I see all the time. I know the toll of every selfish, vain decision I made throughout my life cost me my son's life. The guilt for my actions compelled me to give you my loyalty oath; it's led me here."
"…It's led you here," Harry repeated. "I can't imagine you've forgotten Malfoy. Are you letting go of the past? Is that it? You've already embraced a new life."
"No, you bloody moron," Draco hotly spat back. "I'm saying we aren't suffering in the same ways because you aren't really guilty about the things you've done." The second Harry was about to angrily refute that, Draco interrupted, raising his palms as he specified, "Not completely. That thing in your head saying you don't deserve, you're not good, no one will love you; that's not guilt—it's shame. Guilt says, you did something wrong, while shame says, you are something wrong. You run and hide because somehow you think you are the thing that's bad, which I honestly don't get. I know bad. I was killed by bad. You're the furthest thing from bad there is."
"Guilt, shame, it doesn't change what I have to do," Harry declared. "No matter what, killing Riddle is the only way out. The only way everything will be right again. So, go back tell them you found me, I'm fine, and that I only needed a bit of air."
"No," Draco flat out told him.
"No what?" Harry asked curiously, looking at him.
"No, I'm not telling them fuck-all for you," Draco returned, moving closer, and sitting on the cold floor beside the top-knot haired Harry. "You can tell them whatever you want when you go back."
"What's the matter with you?" Harry asked suspiciously.
"With me? I'm not the blubbering mess on the freezing dirt," Draco shot back.
"Yeah, and you're not acting like the irritating git that I'm used to-"
"You need to go back," Draco stated, ignoring the jab. "And to be clear here, you need to go back because you're not right in the head. This running at the drop of a hat can't be a quirky thing you do every now and again."
"As much as I like showcasing my psychological damage," Harry sarcastically began. "There's only one way of stopping this never-ending plague in my head, and it's not by going back there and putting my damage on display."
"Not ending it completely, but they can make these little fucking episodes of yours easier to manage. I know your torment like mine is seeing these things over and over, like a loop, and it feels like if you stop and rest, then you're as good as ensuring all that shite happened again. But if nothing changes, you're not going to survive that way, and if you don't survive… none of us do."
"The bloody theme of my life," Harry sarcastically mumbled.
Draco told him, "Look, nobody really talks about it in front of you, but it's pretty fucking obvious to nearly everyone in that room that you're severely closed off. I've been asked about you by Tracey on Daphne's behalf, by Daphne when she got the balls to ask herself, by Granger, by Fleur, even her perverted little sister, Gabrielle asked me about you—which was fucking weird by the way. The Flamel's asked me about you in your school days."
Harry turned a skeptical eye on Draco, not sure what he was getting at. "What'd you tell them?"
"Relax," Draco waved off his suspicions with a hand. "I didn't tell them anything important, but they all asked me because they all want to know more about you. Traumatized, or not, they're closing in, and whether you let them help you isn't the issue here. You need them to be a safe environment for you to be yourself, so you don't run every time you lose your shit."
"You want me to go back and admit I'm a bloody mess?" Harry questioned, standing to his feet, staring incredulously at the silver-blonde. "I know they'll keep asking and asking, until I either shut them down completely or I tell them everything. And you already know I won't ever tell them where we come from."
"For a smart wanker you really don't listen," Draco responded, getting up as well. "I'm saying you don't have to admit anything because everyone already knows the important part; you're damaged, and guess what? They all seem fine with it."
"They'll still want to know," Harry insisted.
"So tell them after you kill Riddle-"
"I don't plan on being alive after Riddle!" Harry exclaimed, eying Draco fiercely. "Every single person at that table—you included—has a life after that parasite dies. I don't."
"You read the future now?" Draco sarcastically asked. "You don't know that."
"Did they tell you how much magic I used just to stop a bunch of acromantulas?" Harry asked. "That was maybe a fourth of it, maybe, and it knocked me out for seven days. When I fight Voldemort, I'm using the whole bloody thing. I'm going to use every ounce of power I have to erase that fucker from existence, and I don't plan on surviving it."
Draco sighed. "…Fine, look, if that's how it goes down, let me be the first to thank you in advance—I'll name a fucking street after you—but there's nothing saying it's the only way that he dies. Like it or not, there are people behind you—people willing to do more than just stand around and let you handle everything. You think those girls stopped working out in the morning, or training in the evening while you were down? You think the Flamels haven't been doing their research on the list of Death Eaters I gave them? You think I'm willing to just forget the debt I owe my son, and do nothing when the time comes? It's just as much the end of my line as it is yours."
"Is that suppose to be comforting?" Harry asked. "You think I'm overjoyed to know they're following me straight to death's door without even knowing it? I'm the reason they're in harms way now."
"Merlin, you're like a broken record," Draco muttered in annoyance before saying, "I know you have an infinite capacity for self-contempt, but I'm going to need you to stop sucking on that sweet nectar, and look around you! You can't keep going on like this! Things are different now. You can't continue expecting what happened before to happen now—or again—when damn near every variable you can think of for the coming battle is different than where we're from. So stop running and hiding, because it won't change how much life seems to fucking hate you."
Harry actually snorted upon hearing that. "Merlin, you're such a massive twat," Harry said, to which Draco smirked proudly and nodded his head. Somehow, even though nothing was resolved, Harry felt a little better. He still felt wrong, but at least there was a step forward he could take, and that alone made him more comfortable in his skin. Recalling Perenelle's verbal lashing, Harry reminded himself that Voldemort wouldn't go back and face his public weakness upon the judging eyes of others, and that's all the more reason to do the hard thing now.
Harry turned to Nova—who flapped her wings to hop on his shoulder—as he asked Draco, "When did you get so… enlightened?"
They started walking back as Draco explained, "When I realized you were never going to learn healing magic, I started reading up on some simple spells I can use on myself. Then I started reading some more about other types of pain, ways to heal them, and I just kept reading."
"Oh," Harry responded, amiably surprised. "Anything else I should know before I walk into a room with forty eyes on me?"
"Ugh, I'd rather not say uplift things to you," Draco groaned with a sigh. "Just... create the environment with as much honesty as you can muster. I don't think anyone who really matters to you is going to push. Most seem to have enough sense to respect a ninny's emotional boundaries, so just remember, it's your environment."
"Wanker," an exasperated Harry returned. "But thanks."
"Speaking of wankers," Draco began, shrugging off the gratitude. "What did Weasley want to talk about? He wouldn't say."
Harry looked at him in confusion, asking, "What do you mean he wouldn't say? You asked him?"
"Only after you took off," Draco admitted. "You were acting weird after. Naturally, I thought he said something-"
"To upset me?" Harry asked incredulously, with a mischievous tone. "Malfoy-"
"Shut up!" Draco interjects as Harry continues,
"Your Hufflepuff is showing-"
"Shut it!" Malfoy blared.
With a teasing grin, Harry asked, "Are you going to hug me now?"
"Fuck you and your hugs," Draco called, walking faster. "I could've been eating lunch with Tracey instead of dealing with your bullshite."
"...but you care about me too much," Harry said in a little teasing voice just loud enough for an agitated Draco to hear.
Walking down the street, all humor was replaced by apprehension as Harry saw Nicolas and Perenelle rushing toward them. Draco kept walking ahead as Harry nervously balled his sweaty hands at his side. He cleared his throat, and before they spoke, he said, "Sorry. I didn't mean to make you worry. I just... I was overwhelmed. It was a lot; seeing all of them. And I just… I couldn't stay."
Nicolas placed his heavy, but warm, hand on his shoulder stating, "It's more than okay. We can talk about this later and only if you want."
"I don't want you going back in there if you don't feel up for it," Perenelle added. "We can eat at Hogwart's or floo to the townhouse and I can make us sandwiches while you rest. You're still recuperating, and that doesn't just mean physically. Your mental and emotional health need time of their own."
Harry nodded as the mention of sandwiches reminded him of the bottle he had purchased earlier. He dug into his extendable pocket and retrieved the bottle of hot sauce, handing it to Perenelle. "It's fine," he said. "We can go back. I'm better, oddly enough. Besides, I still have to give the girls their brooms."
Perenelle happily took the bottle and started reading the ingredients as Nicolas said, "We heard about that." They all walk to the pub as he added, "They were quite nervous when they warned us."
"Was that okay?" Harry asked. "I know it's not my money."
"Of course, it's okay," Perenelle quickly responded, as if berating him for even asking. "We know why you did it, and it makes all the sense in the world."
"You could spend all the gold we have and I wouldn't care," Nicolas said. "Besides, we know how frugal with galleons you are."
Walking into the pub drew more attention than before, and it was worse when he entered the private room. Hermione and Fleur were the quickest to reach him, while Daphne and Luna reached him with a little more grace.
"Are you alright?" Fleur asked.
"Yeah, I am, thanks," he told them. "Sorry about leaving like that. I was reminded of something unpleasant."
"But you're fine now?" Daphne asked.
Harry nodded as he heard Nicolas and Perenelle reassuring mostly curious, but one concerned, adults that Ares was fine now, without giving any reason for the disruption earlier. Harry then called Tracey over, saying, "I might as well give this to you all now. Daphne, let me see your hand."
Daphne stood a little straighter, extending her elegant left hand, seemingly more jovial as Harry put a white-gold bracelet he had purchased on her wrist, followed by, "Luna." The doe-eyed straggly dirty-blonde extended her hand happily. He then brought out the five shrunken Nimbus 2000 brooms. Taking one, he extended it to its normal size, explaining, "This is a Nimbus 2000. You'll each get one to attach to your bracelet. It's fast, has great maneuverability, and it's easier to control than something like the Firebolt."
"That broom vill take training to use effectively," Krum interrupted, standing next to Hermione.
"He's right," Harry agreed, before looking at Hermione. "It'll take some training, which we'll do every Saturday and Sunday. I want you to keep it on you at all times."
"I can assist vith instruction," Krum stated, and Harry wasn't sure why the Bulgarian wanted to involve himself, but said nothing against Viktor's offer.
"Are you really giving us Nimbus 2000s?" Tracey asked aghast.
"I don't believe I can agree to this," Snape said with droll authority. "It's against regulations to have racing brooms within class."
"Well, when they're bigger than the size of a button, feel free to confiscate them, otherwise you're just stealing ornamental jewelry," Harry hotly returned, not at all thrilled to have Dumbledore's number two in the room.
Snape certainly didn't have anything to do with holding Harry back from saving Perenelle and the others or handicapping Nova, but Harry was sure everything that happened in this room would be reported back to Dumbledore, and that was irksome enough. Sending his irritation through Snape to Dumbledore was irrational, but it made him feel a little normal.
"I don't see the harm in a little extra insurance," Sirius pointed out, eyeing Harry with the constitution of an official Auror. "Would've helped out a lot last week. But at least let me pay you back for my daughter's broom. We already owe you so much."
"It's not about debt," Harry answered, giving Tracey her broom. "This is for emergencies. Ninety-nine out of the next hundred days can be peaceful. These brooms are for that one day when it's better to be prepared," as he hands each of the girls their brooms.
"What of my broom?" Gabrielle asked, moving to Fleur's side as the older sister attached her Nimbus to her silver bracelet.
"We will speak to papa," Fleur sweetly told her little sister.
"Let's have lunch, then," Lily called out to the room.
"Until you get your own broom," Harry began to tell Gabrielle. "Why don't you keep Nova company," he said as he set Nova in front of Astoria and Gabrielle's seats.
"Ares," Perenelle called, indicating the open seat next to her. As Harry moved to take his seat, he intersected with Sirius, who eyed him with suspicious yet conflicting eyes. Harry nodded his head without his usual confidence for two reasons. He didn't want the old hound to recognize James Potter's features in Harry's face, and just as importantly, there was technically a warrant out for The Green Reaper's arrest. The only thing keeping the Head Auror from arresting him was the Ministry's decision to take on the French Ministry for the murders of Death Eaters. Harry had no idea how this Sirius felt about the whole situation, but he couldn't imagine it was radically different from his timeline, as he recognized some level of conflict in his gray eyes.
Nicolas was at the head of the table as Harry took his seat, surrounded by most of the adults. Sitting beside Harry was Hardwin, and in front of him was Snape.
"It's good to see you up and about," Flitwick expressed to Harry, as they began their meal.
"Thank you, professor," Harry responded, eager to eat as fast as possible for an early exit.
"I think everyone here can agree," Snape began to say, eyes focused on memorizing every twitch of Harry's face and response. "The magic you displayed was on a scale-"
"No," Perenelle asserted in a way that feels like her shoving her foot in his mouth. Most at the table paid close attention to the exchange as Perenelle continued, "We will not be having any conversations regarding last week or Ares' magical proficiency. He is not some puzzle piece for you to work out."
"I only wish to express how-"
"I'm aware, Severus," Perenelle cut him off. "It's quite clear your questions aren't your own, but the place and time for your interrogation is not here or now. This is meal time."
"Severus," Lily quietly voiced, and Snape nodded before saying, "my apologies."
"It's okay, professor," Ares said, willing to see past the potions master's allegiances for the true hand that guided him; Dumbledore. "I'm sure everyone'll get the chance to ask me all the questions they want later." Again, Harry wondered how Sirius was taking all of this.
catching the room's attention easily with his good nature, Sirius asked, "I guess the only real questions that needs answering is: are you any good on a broomstick?"
From that moment until the end, conversation among the adults was kept light and fun with a good amount of laughter from hearing some of Sirius's stories with Lily or Remus to back it up, with interesting points of topic from Nicolas, Perenelle, or Flitwick.
Sitting next to Hardwin and nearly in front of Lily, Harry kept mostly silent, and more importantly, his head down as he listened to the younger side of the table. Pockets of conversation were overheard by Harry's enhanced hearing and sorted by his impressive mental control, adding even more to his growing concern. The conversation between Luna, Ginny, Astoria, and Gabrielle was mostly benign, with the only unease coming between Ginny and Astoria, but Luna smoothed over every rough bump with her whimsical charm as they talked.
Harry ignored Draco and Tracey's slightly flirtatious conversation about traditionalist struggles for rights to keep ancient customs of magical society in place while Sirius stole horrific glances at his future daughter talking with a Malfoy. Harry also ignored Krum explaining to Hermione the merits and disadvantages of the Nimbus versus the Firebolt and his attempts to secure a one-on-one flying lesson.
"You vould be vell ahead of dhe others if you train vith me," Krum claimed. Hermione thanked him for the offer but ultimately decided to train with her classmates.
Bill was possibly one of the coolest wizards Harry had ever had the pleasure of eavesdropping on. He was full of genuine, mostly unexpected flattery that made Fleur laugh, as well as funny stories about his work as a master Curse Breaker. He mostly asked her questions about herself, family, and future. It was impressive to see an example of what their chats might've been like in his timeline. When the dark, dreaded memory of the couple's demise from his timeline inched closer to his fore-thoughts, Harry was about to ignore them for the safety of his sanity when Bill asked, "I noticed you haven't mentioned Ares Flamel. Haven't you known him long?"
"Unfortunately no," Fleur answered. "We did not officially meet until September, when I almost struck 'im wizh zhe stunning spell. 'Owever I am grateful to know 'im now."
"Officially?" Bill asked. "Was he an admirer you didn't remember until you saw each other again? Not that I blame you. I'm sure the list of admirers is quite long, and he is on the younger side."
"Non, I met Arez briefly in zhe summer, but I never learned 'is name," Fleur said with a smile. "And 'e ees quite zhe opposite, actually; not as enamored wizh me as I tend to expect from most admirers. 'E 'as a far easier time denying my advances zhan I've ever experienced een my life. Zhe world ees full of mysteries, non?"
"Uh... yeah?" Bill agrees before asking for clarity. "You don't mean to say you're interested in him, but he's rejecting you, do you?"
"Rejection ees such a strong word, Beel," Fleur expressly clarified. "'E simply requires more effort on my part zhan I normally need, 'owever I 'ave 'igh 'opes."
"Though I don't know the situation in its entirety, I have to say… that's so backwards, like on a spiritual level," Bill teased. "That's so wrong, isn't it?"
"Eet ees quite backwardz, for certain," Fleur lightly laughed and they continued their fun back and forth. It was Daphne's conversation with Zabini that drew most of Harry's attention.
"So why did he run earlier," Zabini quietly asked Draco. "He looked scared shitless."
"Leave it Zabini," Draco warned before returning to his conversation with Tracey.
"Oh, isn't that cute?" Zabini commented to Daphne. "Draco's defending his butt-buddy."
"Blaise," Daphne admonished. "You're being reproachful."
"How are you so calm about this?" Zabini asked her, looking around the large gathering. "We're having lunch with Ravenclaws AND fucking Gryffindors—not to mention the worst Gryffindor of all. The moment the rest of the house get's wind of this, we'll be outcasts."
"You're the one who insisted on tagging along, and don't be so ignorant," Daphne responded. "No one's going to do anything now. Things in Slytherin are different. You've always called everyone behind the boss sheep, and in this case, the boss just happens to be the one sitting with other houses."
"The boss?" Zabini questioned in surprise. "And you call me ignorant… He's not the boss, Daphne. He's an equalizer, at the most. No one goes against him because no one can go against him. He even has a man-servant," Zabini added, glaring at Draco. "Ares does whatever he wants because he doesn't have a counterbalance like the rest of us do. You have to see he's not like us, and more importantly, you'll never be like him."
"'Have to,' do I? Surely, I can make up my own mind as to how I see things," Daphne returned. "But, maybe he is something of an equalizer, and like all of nature's resets, he'll clear away the clutter. Ares will ruin the bias and lies interwoven into the very fabric of our society, and if you continue with your outdated ways of thinking, he'll clear you away too."
"You might as well have said he ruins society. Things are the way they are, Daphne," Zabini said, looking at her amazed. "Are you so blinded by his power that you can't see people don't change? What's next, you're going to sit at the Gryffindor table with your 'I heart Dumbledore' badge pinned on your shirt? What's gotten into you? Your sister, a Slytherin, is playing with a Ravenclaw and a Gryffindor right now! You going to be okay with that when the rest of the house finds out and make an example out of her?"
That comment didn't sit well with Harry—at all—nor did it go over well with Daphne.
"Blaise, I'm certain that's not a threat I heard come out of your mouth," Daphne stated, steel for eyes. "Because you know exactly how I'd respond."
"Cunningly cold, like ice, I know," Zabini agreed. "Because I know the Ice Queen better than anyone here. Just like you know damn well what I'm saying isn't bullshite. I'm telling you, you're making a mistake hanging out with this lot. For your own good, come back to Slytherin. The Zabini house will protect you and your sister."
Eying the taller boy suspiciously, Daphne replied with absolute certainty, "You're making me choose."
"He's no good for you," Zabini told her. "For Merlin's sake, he gave you a broom for the express purpose of avoiding death. He's going to get you killed, and then where will your sister be? Alone, with no one else but your father to look after her, and we both know it won't take him long before he sells her off. You need me. Use that big brain of yours, and realize that already."
"You don't believe I fully thought this through, Blaise?" she questioned with such icy vitriol in her tone. "You should know I don't make decisions lightly, just as I know how self-serving your motives truly are."
"We both know there's no such thing as selfless acts," Zabini touted in defense of himself. "And if that's what's in your head now, you might as well buy yourself a red and gold tie right now."
"Your judgment is so clouded you can't even see the grand picture, and that only happens when you think with the wrong head," Daphne hotly contested. "One of the best pitfalls to poor decision making is bias, which is the only reason you want me to agree to your way of thinking. You want me to be like that girl you met on the first train, the one who hated everyone and didn't trust a soul. How we relied on each other is not something I've forgotten, but how you grew to view me isn't the same as I-"
"Yes, it is," Blaise emphatically interjected. "Neither of us care like that typical, 'you're my everything' bullshite. We were just right for each other. We still are. You're just blinded by this shiny new toy, is all, but you'll wise up. Of that, I have no doubt."
Zabini didn't say any more after that. He wasn't surprised by the Slytherin mentality. Zabini had always struck him as quietly cunning, not that it mattered. Harry knew he was only here to end Voldemort. Any other major concerns magical society needed aid with, they could look elsewhere for salvation. By the end of lunch, Harry was drawn into the adult conversation by a horribly different revelation.
To the potion's Master, Remus said, "Severus, I wanted to offer my condolences over the loss of one of your students."
Harry set his mug down a little too hard on the table, causing the loose cutlery nearby to clink and chime, producing a louder sound than he intended. But that didn't matter as Harry asked Remus, "What loss? Who died?"
Snape looked surprised, turning from Harry to Perenelle and Nicolas. "We haven't had much of a chance to speak to him," Nicolas said. "He only woke up a few hours ago."
"Who died?" Harry sternly asked Nicolas.
"A young boy by the name of Zemdai Khan," Nicolas answered. The news that anyone died was certainly shocking, especially since the others didn't tell him, but for it to be someone he hardly cared for did little more than make him wonder if he had grown callous to the loss of life. "We wanted to be the one to tell you because we know he's a housemate of yours."
"He was in the tent resting when it all happened," Perenelle explained to Harry.
"Oh," Harry lightly said.
"Oh?" Snape questionably pointed out. "Is that all you have to say for the horrible loss of a fellow Hogwarts student; your own housemate besides?"
"What else do you want me to say, professor?" Harry asked. "He wasn't exactly a beacon of compassion." The adults seem surprised by his insensitive response, but if Harry indeed wanted to create this safe environment Draco talked about, he wasn't going to pretend to care about trash like Khan.
"No doubt the very reason behind your public threat," Snape pointed out.
"At least he would've lived through my ultimatum," Harry returned. "And while I didn't want him to die, I'd be lying if I said I'm all broken up about it. He was young, sure, but he was far from innocent, and if someone had to die, I'm more than fine with it being him."
"He was your own housemate," Hardwin exclaimed, feeling like he was voicing what the adults might be thinking. "You don't care about your own housemates?"
"Housemates, professors, parents, regardless of relation, bad people exist everywhere," Harry informed Hardwin. "And I don't excuse the bad behavior of terrible people, no matter the relation."
"Parents?" Hardwin repeated, aghast. "If it weren't for my parents, I wouldn't be alive right now. The magical world wouldn't be what it is right now without them. And you want to say something so stupid like parents are bad people. What is wrong with you?"
"A lot, actually," Harry casually answered. "And I didn't say all parents are bad, but yeah, some can be. Or do you think people like that Crouch Jr or hell, even Tom Riddle, just materialize out of nowhere?"
Snape sat up straight, coughing so abruptly, Flitwick, Lily, Remus, and Sirius noticed right away. They looked on the ashen-faced Potions Master with curiosity as Hardwin asked, "Who the hell is Tom Riddle?"
"Ares, that that is not suitable conversation with children at the table," Nicolas bemoaned.
"I suppose so," Harry glumly areed before turning to Perenelle and relaying, "I'm heading back."
Perenelle nodded, informing him, "Dinner in our dorm tonight."
"Okay," Harry responded as Flitwick interjects, "I was hoping I might have a word, Mr. Flamel. Perhaps I can join you all for dinner tonight?"
Harry nodded with a casual shrug, and Perenelle agreed, replying, "Certainly."
"I'm certain the Headmaster will want to speak to him first," Snape pointed out.
"The headmaster will just have to wait," Harry bluntly stated, still angry at the old man for keeping him from saving the others with a binding spell as well as handicapping his familiar. "Nova," Harry called, and his familiar left her adoring audience for Harry's shoulder.
"Are we returning?" Fleur asked in the middle of Bill's story.
With Harry's nod, Fleur, Hermione, Daphne, Tracey, and Draco all stand, with Luna, Ginny, Astoria, and Gabrielle quickly following. Hermione and Fleur bid Krum and Bill farewell but the wizards—along with Zabini and Hardwin—decided to join the group.
"I guess I'll make sure they make it back okay," Bill informed the adults, who decide to stay longer.
Harry wondered who would ask about him and what the Flamels would tell them. He knew that Nicolas and Perenelle wouldn't say anything more than they had to, but every little bit could help one of them understand him more than he would like. Instead, he hoped they would ask about the breadcrumb he left; Tom Riddle. He planned to ask Nicolas and Perenelle about it at dinner.
Walking toward the beautifully lit and inviting castle off in the distance, Harry decided he'd rather stay outside, and instead, headed toward the Quidditch stadium he used to love so much.
"Oi, where you off to Flamel?" Hardwin called, then turned to Bill, who was busy talking to Fleur. "Bill," he alerted the red-head of Harry walking away.
"We're inside the gates," Harry stopped to answer him. "No need for chaperones anymore." He then continued toward the Quidditch field, which, from a distance, didn't look any different than it had before the attack. 'How quickly did they repair it?' Harry wondered, following up that question with, 'I wonder who repairs the damage.'
"Flamel," Bill called and Harry turned to him expectantly. "I'd prefer to tell your parents I returned you safely to the castle if you don't mind."
"You don't have to worry about that," Harry told him. "They'd never expect you to look after me to begin with."
"Are you going to dha quidditch field?" Krum asked Harry, who nodded to the Bulgarian. "I understand," he said before telling Hermione, "I vill join you momentarily," and jogged to the castle.
Harry turned and kept walking, Draco and Tracey following behind him, along with Daphne and Astoria. Zabini eyed them for several moments before deciding to return to the castle with an agitated pace. Hermione and Luna followed Harry, as Fleur told Bill, "Zhank you for keeping me company, Beel. I 'ad a lovely time."
Taking Gabrielle's hand, Fleur walked beside Hermione as Luna talked to her bushy-haired friend, while Hardwin, Ginny, and a very reluctant Bill continued toward the castle. Walking into the Quidditch field, Harry indeed saw it was exactly as it was before the Acromantula attack—even the dueling ring was gone—recalling with vivid clarity the swarm of large, hungry spiders ravenous for their flesh. When he turned to the others, everyone was quiet, obviously in their own memories of that horrific near-death calamity.
After looking at each one of them, he announced, "Last week is something I never want to happen again. But for whatever trials tomorrow brings, I'd like it if we were prepared. So, since most of the ladies aren't really dressed for flying, how about a light spar?" Everyone excitedly agreed, and after setting Nova on a conjured stand in front of Gabrielle and Astoria, Harry took his place in front of the group, conveying, "The conditions for the light spar is no spellwork that leaves lasting or severe damage," to which Draco, Tracey, Daphne, Fleur, Hermione, and Luna all agreed, as it meant, "strategy and execution are key here."
Draco took his place and began without the official call of start, rushing Harry as fast as his legs could push him. The girls raised their voices at the dirty tactic as Harry dodged Draco's stinging hexes. Harry quickly visualized the entire match in his mind with his intimate knowledge of Draco's current skill level. He knew the silver-blonde's blitz was to reduce any chance of Harry dodging so he would have to shield, after which he would then attack an obscure part of the body—the feet, most likely—and create an opening that way. It was a good strategy but still too linear.
Harry conjured a red ball to roll toward Draco. He recognized the ball for what it was, a faint, and shielded himself from the stinging hexes Harry cast high. Harry dodged another series of hexes before Draco was tripped from behind by the ball he neglected that Harry summoned. The moment he landed on the ground, Harry mentally cast Expelliarmus, but as Draco's wand was attached to his pink holster, it only pulled a moment before Draco submitted.
"What the hell happened to you?" Harry asked Draco as they moved closer to the girls. "You were better than that last week."
"Een zhe circuit, eet ees disrespectful to start wizhout zhe official call," Fleur stated to Draco while Tracey defends him saying, "It's not like Ares was hurt or anything."
"He may not be hurt, but starting before your opponent is ready is incredibly underhanded," Hermione stated.
"It's true this is a spar, but its ultimate purpose is for real-world conflict," Harry responded. "And in real life, there is no official starting call. I'd be more surprised if he waited." Harry's explanation illuminated to them the mental expectations spars seemed to mean for the green-eyed scarred boy. He continued to say, "I don't know what's been said about what I did during the acromantula attack, but I guarantee you I didn't do anything I didn't practice a thousand times or more."
"I was very curious about the magic you used to lift the platform," Luna said. "Have you lifted many platforms and towers filled with people before?"
"I used the same charm you use to levitate a feather," Harry replied. "I conjured swords and lances or transfigured them. I used Protego and Nova, and that's it. I want to highlight these points because I don't want you to think I can just do whatever I want with magic. The magical scale between us may be different but the knowledge of spells, charms, and tactics can be of equal ability. You just have to practice."
"I believe eet ees my turn," Fleur said, already moving out away from the others.
"You sure you want to?" Harry asked with a smirk. "I wouldn't want you to get in trouble with Madame Maxime."
"Do not let my gentle demeanor fool you, Arez," Fleur replied the smirk. "I'm certain you 'ave not seen a naughtier girl zhan me."
Harry moved opposite her, and the moment he turned around, Fleur was already launching a pair of Stupify spells before conjuring half a dozen birds to fly high and shoot straight at him from all sides. He dodged the stunners, and as he looked up to the fast-approaching suicide birds, Fleur transfigured the ground to clasp his ankles, like manacles, removing his mobility for the couple of seconds she needed. Harry had enough time to appreciate her gambit of spellwork and the speed by which she cast it all. He conjured a large, green, unbreakable umbrella that stopped the birds with a feathery splat as he heard a tunnel of rushing wind, giving him the mental image of the Ventus charm without having to see her next attack.
Using the manacles as extra leverage, he circled the umbrella down, angling it to cover his entire lowered body and face the cannon of oncoming wind. The impact of the strong stream would've knocked him back if he hadn't bent his knees, engaged his core muscles, planted the end pole in the ground, and braced for impact.
By the end of the wind charm, the umbrella flew away in odd loops, and Harry was nowhere to be seen. Fleur staggered for a moment to make sense of his disappearance, desperately looking for her target. But by turning her head, Harry had more than enough time to shoot three stingers, two from above and one from below. Her Protego stopped the assault from above, but she missed the one aimed at the created blind spot. With a sharp cry from the sting in her foot, Harry cast, "Expelliarmus," and her wand was snatched from her hand, flying to the same spot he had been standing in the entire time. Harry disillusions himself as he caught her wand.
"Nice," Harry said, dismissing the manacles holding his ankles. "I can tell you've had quite a bit of training," he observed, walking toward her. "Your attacks were very sure, almost instinctual. In spite of the spell restrictions, that's pretty good strategy."
"Eet would seem you are slightly better," Fleur replied with a cunning smile. "Eef only for zhe moment."
Harry handed her wand back as Krum turned up, his Firebolt over his shoulder, with several of his schoolmates and a few Slytherins behind him—mostly sixth and seventh years. Krum looked very confused, or angry—it could be hard to tell with the constant scowl on his face—as he walked to the group.
"I vas expecting you vould be instructing dhem of flying," Krum said to Harry.
"They're wearing skirts," Harry answered by way of explanation, while Hermione, Luna, and Daphne approached—Draco and Tracey not long after.
"So you spar instead?" Krum asked, looking at the group with an approving nod. "I vill join you. We continue vere ve last left." Krum set his broom down and took out his wand.
"Now wait just a minute," Hermione called out to the approving group. "We haven't dueled yet, so you're all going to have to wait your turn."
"Ve do teams," Krum suggested to Harry. "You and I vill be captains. Ve choose our teammates, and zhe winner vill take any person dhey choose to date for dinner."
"Agreed!" Fleur instantly called in the moment Harry only registered surprise. The other Durmstrang or Slytherins voiced their approval with grunts and calls.
"...I uh," Harry started, looking to his camp for criticism, but only finding either interested or considerate expressions. "I don't understand. You want the winner to have a date with whomever they want?"
"Da," Krum replied. "Dhe final winner can go on date widh anyone here."
"That sounds interesting," Luna remarked, drawing eyes on her. "But the wizards outnumber the witches three to one, and aside from Fleur, the rest are three fourth-years and one third-year," Luna rationally countered, Harry quickly nodding his head in agreement. Luna continued by saying, "Aside from that, I'm fairly certain most of the witches here harbor secret fantasies of going on a date with Ares." Nearly all present were already paying attention to the whimsical, dream-like dirty blonde, but Hermione, Daphne, and Fleur either raised an astonished brow, slightly dropped a surprised jaw, or flushed red in the cheeks at the mention of secret crushes. "For their protection, I won't name names," Luna inconsequentially stated. "But it's unlikely they would manage to beat Ares for that coveted date."
"She ees right," Fleur glumly stated. "Eet ees not fair."
"Dhey have a vand, don't they?!" a Durmstrang Harry didn't know loudly protested. "Dat is all dhey need!"
"This is about learning, not dates," Harry proclaimed, eyeing the Durmstrangs.
"It's incentive," Krum told Harry before turning to Luna. "Vat do you propose?, little one," Krum asks, paying Luna the type of attention a boss would receive.
With a gentle tilt of her head, Luna answered, "Instead of the winner of the matches earning the gift of an assured date, we should all gamble on the winner of each match. Since there are plenty here, everyone places a bet on who might win in a one-on-one match. If you win the bet, you earn a point. Once everyone has dueled, the person who guessed the most victors—thereby earning the most points—wins the right to go on a date with whomever they want."
"Mnn... I see your point," Krum agreed, nodding his stern head. "In Durmstrang, ve believe luck is also skill. Vith dhis manner of competition, everyone is on equal footing, and it negates Flamel's impressive combat ability as he vould only be a single point. Your style impresses me, little one." Luna nodded with more raising of her shoulders than the actual downward tilt of her head.
"One can even say Ares is irrelevant," Draco jovially remarked with a lovable grin.
"No one's going to agree with this," Harry pointed out, glaring at Draco.
"With the number of people here..." Daphne said, counting everyone by sight. "The max amount of points a witch or wizard can earn is eight."
"What if the person doesn't want to go on a date with the winner?" Hermione asked, looking at debased grins on some of the Slytherins and Durmstrang students—though, Hermione would admit most are directing their immoral attention to either Daphne or Fleur.
"Anyone who participates must agree to the date even if they don't like who the winner is," Tracey proposed, and several grunts in the group say they agree. All the girls had stern and thoughtful faces as Tracey continued to say, "If you don't want to risk it, don't participate."
Judging by the receptive mood of the group, Harry sighed before stating, "If this is what everyone wants to do, fine, but we're still only using light sparring rules—no grievous or lasting damage." Harry could tell many don't appreciate the soft-core matches, but none seemed willing to argue against him—especially as he added a final threatening warning. "And if I ever learn someone was forced to do something against their will, by potion or other means of coercion, I'm going to damage you in very grievous and lasting ways." Harry's murderous green eyes could see they all understood how deadly serious he was about that.
"I second dhat," Krum announced to the group, agreeing with Harry.
"Krum, we never dueled," Harry said as he turned to walk toward the field.
Draco conjured a chalkboard and wrote all sixteen names with eight circles after it, and he explained that the winners of the bet would get their circles filled in. The one with the most filled circles secured the date with whomever they wished.
"Alright, alright," Draco hollered with more enthusiasm than Harry had seen from him in a long time. "First match, first match! Krum versus Flamel! Write your name and your bet on a slip and hand it to Tracey! Hurry up, you wank-stains! While we're young!"
"You don't have to be so foul!" Hermione yelled at Draco.
The betting excitement started similar to what Harry had seen in the Quidditch World Cup. Harry couldn't see who was betting for whom, not that it mattered, but they were all smiling and eager. On the opposite side of the coin, Harry had easily grown annoyed by the turn of events and was highly motivated to make quick work of Krum.
"Vhat is Hermione to you?" Krum directly asked Harry, though only loud enough for Harry to hear and the others to strain to hear. "I vill be clear. She is the golden snitch I intend very much to catch, and you are my most clear opponent."
"Whatever Hermione is to me is none of your concern," Harry easily responded.
Krum conjured a slip of parchment and wrote his name and bet as he said, "Though I long to do battle vith you, I know vhere true victory lies." Krum sent his parchment to Tracey. She was so surprised by the bet she showed it to Draco, who looked equally surprised. So much so he yelled across to Krum, "You can't throw the match, or I won't even give you the point." Letting Harry know that Krum bet on Harry to win just so he would get a point.
Irritated even more, Harry sent his bet to Draco, and when the match began, Krum dashed to his right as he launched a barrage of mostly safe jinxes and hexes. He ran fast and he cast faster, but Harry was irritated nearly to the point of anger, easily dodging the rapid casts as he conjured two dozen ravens high above, circling and poised to attack. The moment Krum looked up, Harry transfigured the ground in front of the sprinting Durmstrang into water. A large splash of water followed the large boy, and when Krum popped his head out of the surface, Harry transfigured it back to earth again.
Though stuck in the ground, Harry was still cognizant of Krum's wand in his hand and stunned the struggling Quidditch star soon after. Harry looked at Draco as he walked toward the unconscious Durmstrang, and the silver-blonde called, "Match, Flamel."
Harry transfigured the ground to water again, dragged the larger framed boy out, and Rennervated him. Aside from some coughing, Krum was fine. Harry then noticed that every single bet on the board had him winning—even the Durmstrang students—so everyone had a point already.
With a sigh, he moved toward his group. While still annoyed by the turn of events, Harry did use the opportunity to instruct them. "This isn't about strength and power, but strategy. Faints and expectations are an advantage when used properly. If they feel they're stronger than you, use that. Project strength when you are weak and weakness when you are strong, and they will never be able to tell which is which."
"Alright! Alright!" Draco yelled as another Durmstrang student took the field. "Who's next?! Who's next?!"
Daphne stepped forward, highlighting the next match, and so, duel after duel, the contest continued. The matches seemed to pit boy against girl often as boys continued to take the field one after the other, and waited for an opponent. The individual matches didn't take longer than a few minutes and generally displayed a clear winner right from the start. Harry would never regret picking Luna, Hermione, Daphne, Tracey, Fleur, and Draco to win, but of the total eight points he could earn, Fleur, Draco, and Daphne were the only ones to win, and Daphne barely managed to eke out a victory against the older Durmstrang. If it was just about power, his choices might have been different, but with the light sparring rules, it really was about strategy, which could make anyone a winner.
By the end, including his own win, Harry had five points to Krum's seven. It wasn't at all the outcome Harry was expecting as Draco announced what everyone could easily read on the board. "The clear winner, and the only one with a perfect eight points… is Luna Lovegood." Maybe Harry shouldn't be surprised given the cursed gift Cassandra passed along her family line.
"Who would've guessed?" Luna dreamily, yet seriously asked the suspicious or amazed crowd.
Clearly, everyone was skeptical of her ability to correctly guess the winner of every match—even the fluke victory between the stronger Durmstrang and Daphne, where bird poop landed in the Bulgarian's open mouth, distracting him long enough to give Daphne the win—however, no one could prove or even ponder how foul-play might work in this situation, and so no one said anything.
Standing in front of an expecting crowd, Luna stated, "I would first like to thank the Nargles for ending their campaign to steal my possessions. It's been a most welcome relief as the weather begins to turn."
"Just tell us who yer' looking to snog," Boyle yelled. When Harry glared menacingly at him, he refrained from saying anything else.
"I'd like to go on a date with Ares," Luna casually confessed, to the wooing and hollering of the crowd. "However, since I will be sick on the day in question, I'd like it if my friend Hermione would take my place."
Everyone eyed Hermione and there were quick calls of injustice, "What?!" "She only got five points!" As well as shouts of bribery for the contract date. "I'll give you a galleon to give it to me!" "I'll give you two! "Ten!" "Twenty-five!" "Fleur, please go out vith me!"
"I cannot accept this," Krum growled loudly. "This was not part of the rules. How vould you even know you vill be sick?"
"I don't recall there being a rule saying I can't pass along my prize to whomever I like," Luna returned, not at all bothered by Krum's passion. "As for being sick, I can't say how I know what I shouldn't know, however, I do hope I get well soon."
"I should've asked her for help," Daphne mumbled to herself as Fleur said to no one, "Zhis ees so disheartening."
"If you like her to have your vinning, I vill not object," Krum returned irritably. "But she must be one to decide who she vishes to go on date vith."
Everyone turned to Hermione as Luna agreed with, "I can see that point," and turned to Hermione, tilting her head with her whimsical smile. Fleur was slightly more hopeful, Tracey was enjoying the show, and Daphne seemed amused.
Hermione was dumbfounded and rendered speechless as she nervously looked around her, but especially between Ares and Viktor. After some horribly awkward silent moments, Fleur took Hermione's startled hand and dragged her a bit of distance away from the main body of students. Luna, Gabrielle, Astoria, Daphne, and Tracey followed as Tracey yelled to the boys, "Most of you might as well leave since even a troll wouldn't be caught dead on a date with half of you."
"Quit running and tell us! Ve demand to kn-" a Durmstrang student yelled before Krum stepped in his face, glaring the boy to silence.
Draco stepped beside Harry and asked, "Any idea what they're saying?"
"Yeah," Harry glumly answered, his enhanced hearing picking up everything. "And it's troublesome."
"Zhis ees not a 'ard decision, 'Ermione," Fleur started. "Eet ees only one date and 'e ees an international quidditch superstar." Gabrielle and Astoria watched on in delighted interest.
Daphne moved beside Hermione and whispered, "Quite the serendipitous twist. To think that liberal stance on your convictions would be put to the test so quickly." Hermione eyed Daphne and could see in her arctic blue eyes how much she was enjoying this. "Pick the brawny Bulgarian and you and I will, of course, continue to be friendly. Choose Ares and we'll add love to our list of rivalry."
Taking Daphne's words as a personal challenge, Hermione was awash with realization and returned the gaze in much the same way. "You of all people should never forget that I excel in tests." Hermione stepped forward to the group of boys and announced, "I'd first like to thank Luna for being so generous as to pass her date along to me… and, uh, I hope she has a rapid recovery… when she eventually gets sick, I guess," to which Luna smiled with dream-like happiness. "With this opportunity, I'd like to promote friendship and respect, and despite what some might see as clear lines of rivalry, I'll be taking my friend, Daphne Greengrass, on a date to Hogsmeade." There were catcalls and whistles from the boys as Hermione yelled back, "We'll be going as friends you uncouth perverts." And this time, Hermione, firm in her conviction, did not recoil from her sharp and public retort.
Instead, the bushy-haired witch turned a challenging gaze at a slightly amused Daphne as Draco smugly told Harry with a smirk, "Looks like you're irrelevant again."
"After dinner, Draco. Be ready," Harry once again reminded him, who responded, "Ready for what?"
Draco and Luna are the stars of this chapter! It was soo fun to write Luna. She's a cutey! And Draco is always fun.
I really enjoyed the lightness of this chapter while I try to weave the relationships into the story. Please let me know what you all think! I'd like to thank everyone for their valuable insight. You all make me better and I thank you for that. You guys are awesome.
Thanks,
-Grae