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Harry looked between Ron and Fay as the pair spoke animatedly to him; they were ushered along as he was, away from the stairs and to the Great Hall for the Professors to ensure their safety. He didn't quite like the idea of having to stay there with everybody in Hogwarts, the privacy would be horrible, but he supposed it'd be safe, and that's what mattered most of all to him. He had friends all throughout Hogwarts now, ones in each and every house… at least this way, the lot of them would be safe. It wasn't like any mad man would attack when Dumbledore and every other Professor at Hogwarts was in the room to ward them off. It'd be a suicide mission.

Sirius is mad though, isn't he? Harry reckoned the answer to that question was most definitely, a yes. He's been in Azkaban for years, and nobody stays sane inside of the place. Maybe it's as the Prophet says for a change. Maybe he's just out for cold-blooded murder.

"... right worried too, you're an idiot if you wouldn't be," Fay said to Ron, speaking past Harry as they continued their quick pace to the Great Hall. "Isn't that right, Harry?"

He blinked at Fay, glancing the walls around him in the process. They still had a little way to go before they reached their destination based on what he saw. "Sorry?" he asked.

Ron snickered, but stopped when Fay fixed him with a narrow-eyed glare. Thoroughly silenced — a fact that pleased Fay — the witch turned to regard Harry again. "I was saying that I'd be especially worried if I were in your shoes as well. Sirius Black isn't a man to joke about. He's more a monster than most others the Prophet tries to paint."

"You're not wrong," he agreed, sharing the latter sentiment she had when it came to the Prophet and their credibility; the paper was oft downright slanderous at the best of times. "But I'm not worried here. Dumbledore's here, Professor McGonagall, a team of Aurors. We're safe."

Fay didn't seem convinced based on the expression she pulled, but she didn't voice an opinion aloud. She shrugged as a bout of silence settled. One that lasted the last ten or so seconds required for the trio to reach the Great Hall, their destination.

As soon as they were given sight inside the vast expansive room, the trio took notice of the lack of tables and the abundance of mattresses laid out. There were little barriers that'd been erected to separate each of the houses, not fully made, but enough to stop intermingling, and a table at the farthest sides of each which contained snacks by the look of things.

The levity that seemed to run amuck in the Great Hall appeared encouraged as the Professors spoke or even joked in the case of Flitwick with his peers. Maybe they wanted to avoid a panic, or maybe there wasn't any true cause for concern. If it was the latter, he wasn't quite sure what to think.

"Incoming flock of snakes."

Harry furrowed his brow and turned to look at Fay upon the sentence coming free of her mouth, and when he did, he saw that she was already pointing off to the left, in the direction the Slytherin table typically was. His eyes soon found what she was referencing.

He sighed, regarded her for a few seconds, and then waved to her and Ron both. "I'll meet you soon," he said to the other two as they began to move to the exact opposite side of the room that he was headed to. "Save me a spot, yeah, Ron?"

"Yeah, mate," the other boy said. There seemed a hint of dismissiveness or annoyance in his voice, and his face wasn't the typical goofy look, but instead, one of indifference with a speckling of red thereon.

Fortunately, before any problem could erupt then and there, the two boys had gone off to their separate sides, with Harry joining Lacerta, Daphne and Blaise; Tracey was well behind them and eating something. Scones, cookies, or very flat muffins.

"Alright?" he asked as the four reached one another.

"We're quite fine, thank you," Lacerta replied with a polite nod of her head, the edges of her lips upturned. "We thought you might know more of what happened on account of you being amongst the first to witness the aftermath. Might you humour us, Harry? It's been a dreadfully dull day."

Humour didn't sit too well with him, and Lacerta seemed to clock that when she swallowed, the confident arrogance that typically oozed from her draining, replaced with a look that he seldom saw on her face. A touch of regret, perhaps. He wasn't sure exactly what it was, he'd never been great at reading birds in truth, but he'd not get angry at her. She didn't mean it, that was simply the way in which she spoke; he'd be lying if he didn't like the regret that'd flashed across her face, however, for it showed he'd begun to have an affect on her sense of morality despite the scant amount of time they'd spent together.

That was wonderful, in his opinion. "Yeah," he said as he took a step forward, so as to be by Lacerta's side with Daphne on his other side. "Just not right in the entrance of the hall. Yours?"

"Ours," Daphne and Lacerta said simultaneously, each without so much as wasting a second.

Blaise snorted, and Harry simply looked between the two witches. Surely they didn't think Gryffindors were that abhorrent, right? In truth they couldn't, not with him keeping them company as he'd done thus far. That'd not make very much sense… Then again, it had taken him saving Lacerta's life for this friendship to begin.

"Go on, then," he said with a nod in the direction of the temporary Slytherin residence. There weren't so much as walls to separate the houses, much less the boys or girls.

Still, he found himself pulled along by the Slytherin trio until they were in the farthest, most secluded corner. It'd give them a good sense of privacy, one that'd be bolstered by the various charms the Slytherins seemed so fond of using; Harry only knew one charm of the same type for comparison, and his wasn't remotely as exotic as all of theirs seemed to be.

The house of the cunning and that.

Lacerta sat primly and properly, as much as one could when they were atop a mattress on the ground in the midst of a large hall. Daphne did much the same, though she seemed to be putting on more of a show than Lacerta had. Her stance and the way she held her nose aloft, as well as the make-up she seemed to have on told Harry there was a bloke she was trying to get to notice her. He wondered who.

As for Blaise, the guy had gone to the ground with much the same grace as the two witches, but upon reaching it, he seemed far more comfortable with laying however he liked rather than by the same standards of theirs. Harry was much the same, sitting comfortably rather than formally as the two witches were doing. They were meant to be friends, was the reasoning for how he sat.

Thereafter their seating, Harry recollected the tale for them. He didn't leave out anything that he could remember, and answered just about any question they asked of him, ranging from when he'd found it, what he'd been doing and the like.

Finally, they were finished with that, and Daphne and Blaise had decided it was of an appropriate time to begin sleeping. That wasn't before Daphne let out a comment, seemingly off-handed, but one that went hand-in-hand with that which Tracey had said sometime earlier.

"It's almost as if that plan of yours worked, isn't it?"

Unlike it previously had done, it stuck him with a hard jab of curiosity. He'd not brush it off this time around, and as Lacerta glared at the form of Daphne as she made to lay down near Tracey, Harry couldn't but ask what the other girl had meant, and so he did.

"Lacerta," he started, stealing her attention away from Daphne and taking it for himself. "What's she mean? Tracey said something similar that I remember — nothing barmy, I hope."

Lacerta's cheeks seemed to flush red under the light of the torchlight. Redder than they'd been the entirety of the evening. He wasn't sure if it was the glow that'd changed as various torches had their fires extinguished, or if he was seeing things since it was late… but he swore she was blushing.

Merlin, he wished he could study witches.

"It was a stupid little plan I had when I was younger," Lacerta said, pointedly looking away from him and to the wall behind her as if it was something of interest. Her hands shifted too, folding in her lap as they rang one another incessantly. "I don't suppose you'll leave it here, will you? You're probably worried it's something sinister, knowing the history of our relationship and the fact this was before we mended it."

"Is it still a thing?"

Lacerta made to say no at a moment's notice, paused, and then shook her head. "It's not a plan, one might say any longer, but it's still an ambition of mine. I do hope that it conveys nothing dangerous, considering my family has assured your safety to the utmost."

Harry supposed she had a point there. The Malfoys had done far more than they needed to in regards to a 'thanks' that would have sufficed. Really, it wasn't like they owed him anything, and yet, they'd changed his life so drastically in recent times. Lucius might not think very fondly of him, but Lacerta's opinion had altered from one extreme to, in his opinion, another, and her mother had seemed the epitome of kind.

Lucius, he supposed, had gotten him a broom… but he liked to think that was to make up for the man's initial reaction to Harry emerging with Lacerta back in their second year. Lacerta herself had acted, and Dobby, the little guy, had been about to just as well.

"I'll leave it be," he said eventually. It wouldn't do to press, and in all honesty, mad as he might be, Harry believed her when she said it wasn't anything absurd or horrible for him.

Besides, he could always go over to Tracey or Daphne — probably Tracey since she'd be the easier of the two to convince — and see what he could find out. He didn't imagine she'd be very difficult to convince to assist him.

That appeased Lacerta, and thenceforth, the two teens spoke in all but a whisper into the wee hours of the morning. Class would be cancelled for the next day or two whilst the Professors cleared the castle alongside the Aurors, and so the two would have all the more time to spend with one another.

He liked the thought of that.


Be careful.

Those had been Lacerta's words to him before he'd gone off and gotten in his Quidditch uniform. They played Hufflepuff today, and if they meant to win the cup again, they'd need to beat the bastards. Old man Cedric would certainly make that a hard thing to do, but Harry believed in himself.

And maybe, maybe the thought of Lacerta amongst those who were spectating filled him with a new sense of reason to win beyond that of simple competition. After all the times he'd played and done well amidst the sky, this was the first he truly felt a strong sense of pressure weighing him down.

If he made a mess of things, he'd never hear the end of it.

Harry looked over to his right to see Wood, the Captain, and the older boy gave Harry a nod before the next roar of thunder sounded; Harry couldn't be certain, but it seemed to grow colder and the rain heavier.

There was an almost unnatural feeling about the place. One that had the hair on the back of his neck standing up. It felt like when the Dementors had come, and though Harry knew they'd be guarding Hogwarts, he wasn't sure just where they'd be doing so from. For some reason, the thought of the creatures having free roam of the lands around Hogwarts wasn't all that comforting. Not after the incident aboard the Hogwarts Express; Daphne had been a good companion to have, and Lacerta and the others as well.

Those lot knew their charms to ensure their privacy and security. He reckoned he'd need to do the same soon enough. The thought of relying on others for safety when it came to such things wasn't all that comforting, besides, Harry was meant to handle much worse than that — Voldemort could put anything else he'd fight to shame.

Harry blinked as he saw his teammates step forward, Oliver was gone already, the boy always going to the field with a gusto, and now, Katie was by his side walking casually past him. She looked over at him with a smirk.

"Good, Harry?"

He nodded. "Fine," he answered. "Ever played in a storm like this?"

Katie nodded and reached out a hand, messing with his hair. "A few times. It's nothing to be worried about. Just a bit nippy, is all."

She thinks it's cold too, then.

And then the two were off to the game.


Harry had to admit, Quidditch was much more fun when it was storming out. The lightning lit the pitch up something beautiful, and the rain made it even easier than it usually was to outfly his competition. One person had already been taken off the pitch for the Hufflepuff team too — the unlucky bloke had been struck by lightning.

That left Gryffindor with a player advantage, and made Harry's life all the more easier. I—

There! His mind yelled, overcoming his other thoughts as his eyes potted the Snitch. I see it.

In an instant, he was off, streaking through the sky and following after the elusive little bugger, and it didn't take long for him to be but a metre or two behind it. He'd gotten far better at this, and in a few seconds time more, his hand was all but encircling the little thing… until he spotted something, and that something gave him reason to withdraw.

And he did so. Expeditiously.

He recognised the description and chill, and the image he'd seen. It was a Dementor, and that wasn't something he wished to see.

Immediately, he began a dive, trying as best he could to get away from the creature as it made to come after him, and that was when he saw it. Another Dementor… and then a third… and a tenth… and on they went until he could count them no longer.

This isn't good.

Harry was surrounded. They narrowed in on him.

Darkness came.


When Harry woke up, it was to the very familiar sight of the hospital ward, and the many curtains that made the place feel so confined and closed off from the rest of the wizarding world at large. He'd never liked it here, but it wasn't a year at Hogwarts if he didn't visit the place at least once. At least this go around, he was getting his visit out of the way nice and early, so he reckoned the rest of the year he could just go and coast right on by.

He yawned and rolled his head, the softness of the pillow forcing a comfortable, content smile to his face. With a hand alone, he reached for the glass of water that would always be beside him on the bed… but it wasn't. Instead, in the place of the glass of water, was a warm, squishy, fleshy thing that he squeezed to test what it might be.

In an instant, he heard a squeak, and it sounded an awful lot l—

"You're awake!" Lacerta said loudly, her hand — that being what he clutched — tightening around his own. His eyes moved to meet hers, and in the process of doing so, she seemed to recollect herself, the eagerness and 'improper' behaviour falling away as she straightened herself out in her seat. "You worried me when you fell from the sky. Prat. You're just lucky it wasn't me who had to save you, or we'd be even."

He snorted. Tired, sore and stiff as he felt, he couldn't help himself.

Lacerta huffed at him, that bratty expression he'd come to greatly enjoy in recent times without the typically scathing quality it oft had. She really has changed a lot in recent times.

"I don't suppose you know how long I'm meant to stay here, do you?"

"Just for the night, for observation," Lacerta said as she made to stand, the sound of voices entering the large room likely the cause of her doing so. "And here, before I kill you by depriving you your water."

Lacerta didn't point her wand or mutter an incantation, she simply filled a glass as a Muggle might, and then she handed it to him. Their hands brushed upon her doing so, and though the touch was fleeting, he couldn't help but feel mesmerised by the softness thereof.

His eyes met hers as he took the glass, and when the two realised that, they each quickly looked away from one another, and to another part of the surrounding area; each had the same rush of colour to their face, and each failed to notice the group that'd arrived, had come to a stop before his bed.

Thus, the curtain was pulled open, Madame Pomfrey was made visible, and Lacerta stubbornly reseated herself after her earlier thought of retreat. With Hermione and Ron now present, he could only imagine the fun that'd transpire as soon as the Mediwitch left.

He wished he could go back to bed; would Lacerta be there when he woke up a second time?

It's a wonder she was there for the first.


Harry took a cursory — and guilty-looking — glance around the corridor before he continued down it. Today was the Ravenclaw vs Hufflepuff match, and while he oft loathed to miss any Quidditch match, especially when in regards to the competitor for the cup, there was a reason for his doing so.

"Stop loitering," hissed a voice from right beside him, the suddenness and tone causing him to jolt before recognition flooded him. It was Lacerta, and she had beaten him to their place of meeting. That was highly unlike the fashionably late girl.

He took one last glance around the gaff, confirmed he was alone, and immediately thereafter ducked into the room alongside her. In an instant, the door was closed behind him and Lacerta was standing with her arms crossed, all but glaring at him in silence; the effect was ruined on account of how cold she looked — the tip of her nose was red, her cheeks were flushed and the scarf she had wrapped around her neck was especially snug-looking.

"You didn't come to me after your release," Lacerta said scathingly, her nose raised as she stared at him with her hands resting atop her hips. "I thought you were going to."

"I didn't know you wanted me to."

She huffed. "I waited by your bedside table as po— a friend might, and so I thought you'd go and alert me as soon as you were released from Madame Pomfrey's care. Evidently, that wasn't the case," after a few seconds more of staring at him, Lacerta huffed and pointed past herself. "Are you going to come in, or what?"

He blinked at her, and after a few seconds, he shrugged and walked on past her. "So, studying, yeah?"

"Obviously," Lacerta answered as one of her hands grabbed his sleeve. When he looked at her, she spoke again. "You need to follow me if we're to sit where I've set everything up — you've a habit for getting lost."

I forgot one thing… I think. I'm pretty certain, at least.

Lacerta seemed a bit annoyed, maybe jealous, but he couldn't be certain. Harry had never been very good when it came to reading witches. Ah well, he was here with her now. It wasn't like she could be especially annoyed with him.

He allowed her to lead him to a seat by the window, whereupon reaching the spot she'd picked — the one tucked away in the furthest back part of the room with a good window view to boot — the pair sat down. There were a series of books placed upon the table, many of which he'd never seen before… a few of them had titles the likes of which he didn't imagine sounded very, well, good.

"Worried, are we?" Lacerta asked, tapping her long nails atop the tabletop as she looked at him.

When he regarded her instead of the books, he took notice of the slight smirk she wore. Again, he hadn't a clue as to what it meant, but he huffed and shrugged internally.

"With you?" he shook his head and snorted. "Never."

Lacerta's eyes flashed and narrowed, and a second later, one of her fingers, slight and pointy on account of her nails, poked him in the chest as she leaned forward. "I'll have you know I could've beaten you whensoever I liked, I was simply being sporting."

Uhuh.

Harry couldn't help but smile, though he didn't laugh. He didn't want to get too under her skin even if he knew there wasn't a chance she'd ever beat him. "You reckon you could've taken me? Really?"

Her eyes flashed, the challenge getting a rise from her as she leaned forward again. "You doubt me?"

With her so close, her hand almost clutching his and the warmth of her breath splashing against his face, he lost himself. Lacerta hadn't ever been thought of as pretty in his mind, but being so close to her made his heart beat as if he were on the Quidditch pitch, and so that had finally changed; Lacerta, he recognised, was a pretty witch. A very pretty witch, and one that was incredibly clo—

"Why're you so red?"

Lacerta was examining him as if he were under a microscope, such was the depth of her gaze.

"I was just thinking about something," he said, shaking his head so as to clear it of the thoughts of the girl before him. "I'll tell you if you tell me the rest of that ambition of yours. The one Daphne and Tracey keep referencing."

"If I truly wished to find out, I need but trick you into telling me," Lacerta said with a huff, leaning back to gaze at him with her arms folded as they'd been earlier. "Believe me, my mother told me that's what she does with Father."

Harry snorted. He could see Narcissa saying as much, and the words had sounded a bit old-fashioned, which was a quality he'd noticed in many of the Pureblood families. When they said Ancient and Noble, or even just the latter, he didn't think they meant it literally, but Merlin, it was obvious when you were speaking with a Muggleborn versus a Pureblood.

"Something amusing, Potter?"

At this point, she had to be doing it on purpose.

And so he laughed.

Lacerta raised a hand to her mouth and 'coughed' into it, the sound polite as ever he'd heard a cough before… and as he looked closer, he swore he saw her lips upturned behind her hand.

They really had come far after a rough start. Really, who'd have thought he'd skip a game of Quidditch for her?

"If you're quite finished, it seems I've had a lapse in memory and brought only one copy of each book. You'll need to sit near me if we're to read with one another."

Right, he thought with a snicker. Forgot.


Harry was absolutely annoyed. He wasn't allowed to go to Hogsmeade on account of security concerns regarding Sirius Black as well as the Dementors he'd had a run in with on the pitch. Yet, despite both the former and latter happenings, everybody else was still allowed to continue on to Hogsmeade as if there wasn't an issue to be had in the world, and that thoroughly had him ripe with anger.

Until what had just transpired; his annoyance was still fresh, but there was a sense of satisfaction and smugness now as well as he looked down at the little map that was still clutched tightly in his left hand. Fred and George had heard of his plight and they'd seen fit to help him overcome it. When they'd first pulled out the 'blank' parchment as it were, he thought the two were having him off, but then they touched it and spoke aloud a phrase, and like magic, writing sprawled across the entirety of it. He could see every hidden passage, the names of those who milled about should he desire their names to be thereon, and more.

When the two simply extended it to him, he couldn't believe it. Mayhaps it was Lacerta rubbing off on him or any of those Slytherin friends she oft kept around, but he had to be suspicious, right? Nobody would simply give away such a wicked thing… but he was wrong, evidently. Fred and George had said the sole reason was because they wanted to aid him, a teammate and friend, and so they did so with a matching set of grins until the pair walked off to cause mischief elsewhere in the castle.

Alone, Harry reckoned he'd go and search out for Lacerta. Last he recalled, she didn't typically leave for Hogsmeade until later, allowing herself to sleep in. He'd known that since his second or third Hogsmeade trip, back when they'd been rivals.

With an utterance of the phrase and his eyes on the picture the map painted for him, he was off, headed in the direction of Lacerta. She was a good distance away, but thankfully, now, he possessed many a shortcut to hurry himself a long; after all, if he was going to ask her to go to Hogsmeade with him, he reckoned he best catch her early, before she made anymore plans than he figured she already had.

And so he went.

And nearly five minutes of walking and shortcut-taking later, he found himself outside the library, wherein Lacerta was, alongside five of her housemates. Harry only peeked in as a result of that — he didn't have anything against Slytherins, but he still wasn't quite fond of a horde of them — and caught Lacerta's attention with a wave of his hand. She rose a brow, but aftering gazing at him for a few seconds, she turned and spoke to those she was seated beside; Daphne, Blaise, Tracey, a Flint girl and one of the Rosiers.

They weren't in Harry's year, and he didn't know all that many of the Slytherins names outside those he had class with. The more that he thought about, he didn't ever recall seeing Lacerta keep the company of those two before. They'd been a bit more on their own or together, but then again, he didn't know half of what went on in Slytherin.

A few seconds from there, Lacerta was up and walking over to him, all the grace in the world therein her actions. "Harry," she greeted with a small smirk forming on her face. "What made you come and find me?"

He nodded to the exit of the library. "I figured I'd ask if you wanted to go to Hogsmeade with me before I went along."

Lacerta arched a brow, her eyes narrowing at him. "I saw no reason to go, and last I recall, you weren't allowed to. Has that changed?" she took a few steps closer, her voice lowering, "Or do you mean to go despite what your Head of House declared?"

"I might do," he said as he thumbed the map in his pocket. There wasn't any reason to show its existence in the midst of the library. "Fancy going with me, or not?"

She turned and looked over her shoulder, back in the direction whence she'd come. Evidently, Lacerta was mulling over just what she might do, and then, just as evidently, her mind was made-up. She raised her nose in the air, peered at him with those eyes that spoke to the trouble she could cause, and smiled at him with all the faux innocence he'd ever seen.

"Please," she said with a gesture to the door. "I'd like to see how this goes."

Harry summoned her satchel for her before she could do as much, handed it over to her, and then started out the door. If he looked back to make sure she was following, that would mean he'd have to see the mugs of the other Slytherins, and he could only imagine how they might look after what he'd just done.

But it was a kindness that'd just come over him, and so he figured it wasn't a bad idea, especially when it came to being polite to Lacerta. Their new friendship was still fun to explore, especially when the old her came out from time to time.


"I told you, I'll not walk to Hogsmeade," Lacerta said as she pouted at him, her arms folded as the wagon they were in trotted along to the step of… something; magic, he assumed by the lack of any creature present. "Do you see the outfit I chose to wear? I'll not get it covered in muck like some idiotic Hufflepuff."

At least she didn't say Gryffindor, yeah? I can work with that. Harry snorted as he sat opposite of her. "How'd you get them the biggest, most luxurious one when you walked up to the bloke? I thought we couldn't pick which we got."

Lacerta scoffed, her pout melting away as she raised her nose in that manner that had used to bug him so much, but now, made him roll his eyes. "Everything's for sale, Father's always said as much. I told the man I'd ensure he receives ten Galleons from my monthly allowance if he saw fit to give us the grandest wagon in his inventory, and he readily agreed."

He blinked at Lacerta once she'd finished. "I suppose it's nothing bad," he eventually said, moreso for himself than her. "He could use the extra too, I'm sure."

"Of course, he could. Hogwarts seldom pays well regardless of the position you might occupy short of the Mediwitch, Headmaster or Deputy-Headmaster. It's notoriously bad."

"I thought it was one of the be—"

"A broom from a century ago is the best in the closet if the rest are Muggle-made."

Harry thought of the analogy for a few seconds, and spoke again, this time, his tone one of understanding. "Hogwarts is the best because there's not many, or those that are aren't very good, then?"

"There are three other schools you might attend and all are of a much poorer quality, and for those without the means to go to Hogwarts one way or another. From what my parents say, Hogwarts wasn't always in as poor a standing as it is recently, for many of the Professors and those that would have gone on to do the job were killed across two wizarding wars," Lacerta then promptly switched the topic. "Yule. You're staying with us, aren't you?"

As he'd done just a bit earlier, and as he'd had to do dozens of times before, he blinked at her. The topic switch had happened so abruptly, his mind failed to work for a second or so. He'd forgotten how awkward such discussions could be on account of her family's history.

"If you'd want me to," he said with a shrug. "I wouldn't mind staying here over the Yule break so you could have the break alone with yo—"

"Nonsense. Hogwarts is a poor place to spend your Yule at. You'll return home alongside me, and return to the quarters you were given. I'll tell Mother to expect your company — you're in luck, as well. We have many celebrations throughout the Yule break," Lacerta wouldn't take any indication he might make of a negative answer. She simply continued to speak of what would be there, what they'd have to do that was fun and more.

He hadn't realised that she'd wanted his company so badly. Sometimes, right in the morning, he thought of her as a rival of sorts still, his mind defaulting to what she'd been since the time he'd chosen Hermione over her back in that compartment aboard the Hogwarts Express… for obvious reasons, he didn't see any point in bringing that up.

"Harry?"

"Hmmm?"

Lacerta cocked her head at him. "I might be proven wrong, but as I recall, you have a certain fondness for treacle tarts, don't you?"

"I do… why?"

"When I write, I'd like to make sure there's food you'll enjoy. Some of what you'll see will be from our family's past, when we were French, and other food will be older recipes from an older time," Lacerta then opened the little hatch built into the wagon's sides and peered out, speaking a moment later. "Hogsmeade isn't too much farther."

He was still hung up on the sudden kindness he was experiencing in the little cabin with her. Ever since he'd saved her, she'd been nice — sometimes a bit like her old self — but nice nonetheless. Now, she was almost going out of her way to be kind to him.

"Is there anything specific you'd like to do at Hogsmeade?" he found himself asking.

She turned back to look at him, the tip of her nose already rosy and her cheeks not far behind from the little bit of cold she'd experienced before she'd closed the hatch again. "I'd like to visit a clothing shop. It's a bit colder than I dressed for."

"No Chri— Yule shopping?" he caught himself, using the term that she'd used earlier.

Lacerta's eyes widened as she recoiled, her nose wrinkled. "Here?" she all but sputtered. "Morgana, no. I'd not buy a gift for a person I loathe that originates from here, only those I exceedingly despise. The items aren't of a great quality, and the prices are incredibly gouged."

He'd never heard that latter bit before, but the former wasn't uncommon.

The wagon hit a bump, signalling the pair were close to where they'd disembark.

Harry had an idea before the pair left the cabin. He undid his Gryffindor scarf, casted a warming charm on the entirety of it, and then extended his hand with the scarf therein for Lacerta. "You can wear it," he said. "At least to the shop."

"Is this your attempt to convert me to Gryffindorism?"

He couldn't help but laugh abruptly, to which Lacerta grinned, seemingly pleased with herself. "No," he assured her as she slowly began to do it up around her neck, a 'displeased' look on her face. "It'll take more than that, but it's a start, I figure."

By the time she was finished with it, the wagon had come to a halt and the pair made their exit thereafter. Harry went first, and when he was firmly on the ground and confident no ice was present, he turned and held out a hand for Lacerta to take… which she did without so much as two seconds of hesitation.

He figured he owed her one on account of the scarf he'd given over to her to wear. No 'self-respecting' Slytherin would ever 'adorn' themselves in the colours of their rival.

But she had, and as had happened earlier and recently, Harry found himself thinking of just how pretty she could be. It made him shake his head as the pair headed to their first stop.

One that would change after nought but a dozen steps.