Harry woke up, wrapped tightly in Blaise's embrace, and he couldn't remember the last time he'd slept so soundly. Surrounded by the subtle, masculine scent of Blaise in the sheets, the pillows, and in the brown bicep his face was half-smothered in, Harry thought he could more than get used to this. Beyond being comfortable, he felt strangely safe and cared for. As Harry shuffled backwards in place, seeking to bury himself further into Blaise's addictive warmth, the arm that had been lazily slung around his waist tightened and pulled him directly into the cage of Blaise's body.

With a low sigh, Blaise rumbled a greeting in his ear. "Welcome to the world of the living."

Blaise pressed a gentle kiss to the nape of his neck, and his chest rose and fell into Harry's back with his every steady breath. Harry could feel the bulge of Blaise's hefty dick in his underwear against him and remembering how nonchalantly Blaise had stated he wanted to fuck him, Harry found himself both nervous and desperately aroused.

"Morning," he whispered back once he'd regained control of himself. "Sleep well?"

Blaise huffed a little, as if Harry had asked a stupid question, but his voice was warm and remarkably more even than his own. "Of course."

Through somewhat bleary eyes, Harry reached for the ledge on top of the headboard where he'd left his wand. One haphazard wand movement later revealed it was almost quarter past six. As he rubbed at his eyes, Blaise removed himself from his back with a sinuous movement that involved rubbing his crotch against Harry. Going by his hooded eyes when Harry turned in shock, it was more than intentional.

"Tease," Harry whispered. In the flickering light offered by the cheerfully bouncing flames on Blaise's bedside table, Blaise's muscled frame was tastefully decorated by the intermingling of shadow and light. "I bet you're wearing so little to tempt me."

Harry watched as Blaise made his way to the edge of the bed and opened the curtain. With it came the astonishingly loud sound of Crabbe's snoring, and without blinking an eye, Blaise retrieved his wand and muted the noise with a privacy ward.

With that done, he finally turned to face Harry. "I usually wear even less."

Harry stared dumbfounded, mind poring over that revelation, before he decided that Blaise's sudden bout of modesty was probably for the best for now.

"Speechless, huh?"

Harry shrugged from his position under the sheets. "No comment."

Taking the time to look around, Harry acknowledged that the Slytherin dorms were quite nice. As opposed to the warm, almost rustic aesthetic offered of Gryffindor, the floor was covered in tiles of a black glass-like rock with the occasional silver snake embossed where they intersected. Combined with the ghostly brackish-green glow of the Black Lake through the windows, it produced a strange, otherworldly feel. It made Gryffindor seem positively mundane in comparison.

He was interrupted from his consideration of his surroundings when Blaise cleared his throat. He'd retrieved Harry's cloak from his embedded wardrobe, where Harry had stashed it last night. Blaise eyed it for a moment before simply tossing it at Harry, and he caught it with a muffled laugh. He wondered at how Blaise would react when he looked in the wardrobe on the other side of his bed: Harry's toiletries were crammed in there, wrapped in his uniform.

Blaise looked up from the pile of clothes that was gathering on his side of the bed. "What are your plans for breakfast?"

Harry knew he should probably check in with his House to at least say hello to Neville and Hermione, but he found himself incredibly tired at the prospect of dealing with another morning of Ron's cold shoulder, Ginny's sadness and his housemates' cool and speculative regard.

He shrugged. "I guess I'm still feeling impulsive."

"Works for me," Blaise said, audibly pleased. "You should go and shower before Nott wakes up. I'll go after."

Harry nodded, and he slipped under his cloak. He barely suppressed his chuckle when Blaise audibly grumbled at him searching through his wardrobe.

It was a weird game of subterfuge as they navigated the largely empty Common Room. Blaise led the way and Harry snuck in his wake, weaving through low coffee tables, palatial armchairs and low-hanging green lamps. Again, like the dorms, the décor seemed more aimed towards enforcing an image of mystical elegance than the warm comfort of his own House. Blaise was stopped by Daphne as they approached the concealed passage leading to the dungeons, and Harry waited impatiently for them to finish their small talk before someone bumped into him.

As soon as they were out of the dungeons and Harry was sure no one was around, he took off his cloak and stuffed it in his pocket. In its usual quasi-sentient manner, it shrank until it was no larger than a handkerchief.

They had just passed the Grand Staircase when they were ambushed.

"Well, hello," Padma said, smiling gamely at the two of them. With her teeth bared as they were, Harry thought she looked quite like the cat that caught the canary. "Thanks for the DA yesterday, Harry."

Harry accepted her thanks with a smile, and she immediately turned to Blaise.

"You won't be escaping me today, Blaise," she announced, and she looked at Harry out of the corner of her eyes as if remembering that he was there also. "And you, I suppose. Wouldn't want to separate the two of you."

Blaise sighed before leaning down. "Humour her," he whispered.

Harry nodded. "I guess we can visit Ravenclaw."

Padma's ensuing smile was somehow sharper than before, and she beckoned them with an impatient wave of her hand. "Excellent."

She led the way to the Ravenclaw table. Harry and Blaise took a seat across from her, and they were quickly joined by Anthony and Sue. Padma looked between the two of them expectantly, and Sue, sat beside her, fiddled with her bag and drew out a textbook in silence.

"Well?" There was a gleefulness in her eyes that was a sharp contrast to her otherwise serious expression. "Tell me everything."

Harry was a little taken aback by the way she was acting. The mask of seriousness aside, he could very much imagine Parvati in her place.

"I never really took you as a gossip, Padma," Harry said.

She'd always given Harry the impression of being incredibly proper, especially in contrast to her Gryffindor sister.

Anthony laughed at him while Sue simply shook her head at him.

"You really don't know her at all, do you?" Sue asked. She finally looked up from the textbook she'd been reading under the table, giving him a thin smile. "Padma's a massive gossip."

"Gossip?" Padma repeated. "That's what dear Vati does." She flicked her hair over her shoulder dramatically before fixing them both once more with her intent gaze. "No, I'm particular towards deep reconnaissance."

Harry wasn't exactly sure how there was any difference between the two, but he was very quickly learning that everyone at Hogwarts was, in some form, a little crazy.

Blaise chuckled. "Finding out that Harry was my boyfriend involved reconnaissance?"

Smiling stupidly to himself, Harry focused on his bacon. It was both weird and soothing to hear Blaise outright acknowledge their newly formed relationship.

"You said it not me," she said.

"She probably went through the castle using homenum revelio on every broom cupboard," Harry said after taking a long drain of his goblet.

"And every toilet," Sue added.

"That does sound like our Padma," Anthony said drily. "Always wanting to be right at all costs."

"I do enjoy being correct," she confirmed, and her smile reappeared once more. "I'm told it's a bit of a House trait."

They engaged in light-hearted conversation while they had breakfast, and Harry found that it was quite refreshing to socialise with people outside of his House. He'd been operating under the impression that Padma was a quieter, more serious version of her sister. There were definite parallels with the love of gossip, but she was witty and cutting in a way that reminded him awfully of Blaise. He supposed it made sense that they'd had something in the past.

Eventually, Padma began to dominate the conversation as she attempted to pry into their nascent relationship. Anthony offered interference where he could, and Sue listened while she read with a half-smile. Neither he nor Blaise offered anything beyond vague statements, which seemed to both rile and encourage her further.

As more and more Ravenclaws trickled into the Hall, Harry half-braced himself for questions or barbed comments regarding their presence. After the way they'd won the Quidditch Cup, he wasn't expecting the warmest of receptions. The sight of McGonagall jumping in her seat after he'd caught the Snitch within three minutes of kick-off would forever be burnt into his mind. He didn't dare look towards Gryffindor, not wanting to see how they were reacting to his second absence from their table.

Amir approached them at a leisurely pace, lazy smile in place. He came to a stop near them, offering his housemates greetings before turning to face the two of them.

"The Chosen One and…" Amir said, and he halted for a second, a thoughtful expression on his face as he visibly tried to remember Blaise's name.

Snorting beside Harry, Blaise offered his name curtly. "Blaise."

"Harry's fine," Harry said after overcoming his instinctive wince at the title.

It had been purely a random decision to pair up with the Head Boy in the DA, who he'd previously only known tangentially through Slug Club, but he'd left Harry somewhat unimpressed. From what Hermione had told him about Amir, he was meant to be some sort of Potions expert in the making. Like most of the other seventh years, he was capable of a Shield Charm – it just wasn't particularly good by Harry's standards. Unlike Blaise who had seemed to be taking the DA with deadly seriousness, looking like he was on the verge of cursing someone every time Neville got the better of him, Amir had taken his every failing with good-natured ease. He had improved somewhat by the end though.

"Right. Welcome to Ravenclaw," Amir said with a gentle nod. He ran a hand through his hair offhandedly before turning to face Blaise. "Where's Daphne?"

"Tuesday means Herbology first thing," Blaise said. "She never comes to breakfast before Herbology."

Amir visibly deflated. With a sigh, he accepted the information and turned on his heel.

"If anyone gives you two hassle," he said, and he looked over his shoulder to give Padma and Anthony a significant look. They nodded. "Padma and Anthony will handle them."

With that, he headed further down the table to the other seventh years where Cho was watching him coolly. Harry didn't really feel anything at the thought of her watching him.

"He's into Daphne?" Harry asked.

The Ravenclaws all shared a look. Anthony eventually nodded.

"Like Umbridge is into cats," Padma offered.

Harry paused from his brief detour to retrieve some more bacon, hoping his revulsion was hidden. He didn't think he'd heard of a more disgusting form of affection. "He has an office full of her face on plates?"

Their area of the table rang with laughter.

"I dare you to tell Daphne that," Blaise said with a wide smile. "She'd love it."

Harry pretended to consider it, knowing that it would be an invitation towards, as Daphne called their adventures, an elaborately heroic suicide attempt. "I expect a proper funeral."

Blaise nodded seriously, his dancing eyes betraying his mirth. "I'll get you a nice urn with a tacky lion pattern. Maybe even a clown and a juggler."

Any consideration Harry had towards continuing their banter was interrupted by Luna's arrival, and she slid in on Blaise's other side. Sat a little further down from Anthony, Michael and Terry gave them a polite wave. Terry gave him a polite smile when their eyes met, but like in the DA, he only had eyes for Blaise. Whether Blaise noticed, he gave nothing away.

"It's a nice day," Luna said in greeting. "I'm glad you're both sitting at Ravenclaw."

Harry smiled gratefully at her. "Thanks. I'm glad too."

Blaise agreed with a regal dip of his head and reached for another piece of toast.

"I've been finding in the last day or so that Gryffindor has been struck with a severe case of Wastrel's Worry," Luna explained, and she smiled at Harry. "It's good that Blaise rescued you from exposure."

Blaise showed remarkable discipline. Harry almost nodded approvingly at the sight of his neutral expression as he continued to eat his toast. Padma, however, rolled her eyes and opened her mouth to speak, but it was Harry's cold expression that stilled her tongue. As much as he was enjoying getting to know Padma, he wouldn't put up with anyone disrespecting Luna, especially with the fact he knew that Ravenclaw was apparently rife with bullies. Besides, he'd long ago learnt that some of Luna's language, as much as it was often nonsense, tended to be heavily coded. What did she think of his House's behaviour?

Luna, incredibly observant as she was inclined to be, nodded at him in appreciation before continuing to speak. "It's like Smith's Loser's Lurgy in that it's contagious," and she waited patiently for them all to stop laughing, "but it causes you to be obsessed with what other people do to the detriment of your own life."

Harry found that he was more inclined to think that when it came to his affairs the whole school was afflicted, but he acknowledged Luna's explanation with a nod.

"So, what made you even invite us to your table? Anything other than wanting to know about me and Blaise?" Harry asked.

Padma huffed. "If you can sit with Slytherin, you can sit with us. We're far better than them."

"As you can see, Harry," Blaise said to him, leaning in conspiratorially. "Ravenclaws like to pretend to be all scholarly and knowledge-obsessed, but they're really just as keen to be noticed by me and you as the rest of the school."

"You'll probably find that without Hermione and Ronald shadowing you everywhere, people are more inclined to try getting to know you, Harry," Luna said, taking Blaise entirely too seriously.

It was a surprise to Harry when everyone at the table within earshot nodded.

"You did always give off a very insular vibe," Anthony said. "I thought you were really shy."

Sue snorted. "Sheltered even."

Harry had never considered it like that, but now knowing that Blaise, Tracey and Daphne had close friendships across House lines, it did make his own Gryffindor-centric social life seem remarkably narrow-minded. Still, he wasn't going to admit it. House pride and all.

"And you think me being with Blaise is enough to correct that perception?" He asked.

"He's a Slytherin," Anthony said simply. "I think the school will be more of the opinion if he can do it, so can I."

"You also seem to be friends with Davis and Greengrass," Sue added. Her brown eyes lingered on Blaise as she continued. "I don't know them, but they can't be as annoying as Blaise."

Blaise laughed. "Annoying?"

Sue's lips pursed tightly as she nodded vigorously.

"And here I was about to say I was enjoying your hospitality," he remarked, and he shared a look with Harry. "Don't mind her. She's horribly jealous."

"I think I've been incredibly welcoming," Sue said. Harry snorted, tempted to mention that she'd spent most of their time at the table reading her book.

"I wonder if the Quidditch team will be as welcoming as you, Sue," Blaise said. "I think that was the fastest Quidditch match I've ever seen. Not the best way to settle the Cup deciding match."

Harry just smiled politely as all the Ravenclaws bar Sue glowered at him.

"Oh, no," Sue said, and she smiled rather evilly, at least to Harry's eyes, at Blaise. "They're more pissed with you, Blaise. In fact, Edgecombe and some of Cho's friends have been poring through rulebooks to see whether recipients of that myopia cure you bought count as being under the effects of performance-enhancing magic."

"Sue, stop it," Blaise said, and Harry grunted in surprise when he wrapped his arm tightly around Harry's waist. "I know you're more than a little disappointed that our romantic epic of a love affair has come to a tragic close, but I've moved onto bigger and better things."

Harry felt his eyebrows attempting to escape into his hairline. He knew it was just a joke, but that didn't seem to matter to the violent swell of annoyance in his chest. Anything he had to say in response to that absurd declaration was silenced by the soft press of Blaise's lips to his own, hot breath and tongue mingling with his and muting any thought of voicing his disbelief. It was as much a proclamation of their relationship as it was a way to temper Harry. The satisfaction in Blaise's dark eyes when he peeled away, a mirror of the night before, dispelled any immediate thoughts Harry had about discretion.

Taking in their silent audience, surroundings really, Harry would have wanted to sink into the floor in embarrassment if not for the daring smirk on Blaise's lips encouraging him. It roused a weak smile of his own.

Sue sighed quietly. "Was that necessary?"

"I know that hurt to watch," Blaise drawled. His smirk vanished as he turned to Sue, and it was replaced with a fake look of concern. "I know you're horribly jealous of Harry and that's okay, I would be too, but please try not to cry yourself to sleep."

Padma clapped her hands together, and she closed her eyes, as if it was all music to her ears. Anthony just stared at Blaise like he'd sprouted a second mouth, while Luna steadily worked her way through her sausages with a slight smile.

"I'll do my absolute best, Blaise," Sue said with much seriousness. The petite girl placed her book in her lap, and she gave Harry a cool nod. "Good luck, Potter. You're going to need it with him."

Blaise just smiled as they all laughed.

Thinking back to what Sue said, Harry remembered Edgecombe and he shook his head in disappointment. "Marietta Edgecombe? I can't say I'm surprised she's looking to get me banned from Quidditch."

Padma cleared her throat. "I hate to interrupt, but we have Herbology."

Harry pecked Blaise absentmindedly on the cheek, stifling his grin at Blaise's pleased expression, and bid everyone goodbye.

"Coming, Sue?" He asked.

She shook her head and a faint blush crossed her cheeks. "Let me finish this chapter."

"We'll see you there," Harry said.

It wasn't like him, but Harry continued to avoid looking at the Gryffindor table as they walked past. Looking at Ron and Ginny was still too painful. As he and Padma crossed the threshold of the Entrance Hall, Snape materialised from the adjoining corridor. He looked visibly haggard, his skin sallower and waxier than ever. Still, it didn't prevent the usual sneer at the sight of Harry from appearing.

"Twenty points from Gryffindor and Ravenclaw for indecent behaviour in the Great Hall," Snape said.

Harry didn't even recall Snape being around at breakfast, and before Harry could say a word in his defence, Snape swooped past them without another word, not even giving them time to digest the punishment. While Harry was sure the anger was showing on his face, Padma just shook her head dismissively.

They continued walking in companionable silence.

"Miserable old bat," he spat as they exited onto the grounds.

Padma hummed. "I don't disagree."

They stepped down the stairs leading down towards the greenhouses in lockstep, and as they drew closer, Padma slowed to a crawl.

"I just want to say, Harry," she began, giving him a warm smile, "I've known Blaise for years, and it's nice to see him sharing his annoying self with everyone."

Harry smirked at that. "He's not that annoying."

"Of course," she said, and Harry was quite impressed with how sincere she sounded. "I've always been of the opinion that people should be honest with themselves, so I'm happy you've gotten that out of him."

As they approached the entrance to Greenhouse Three, she continued with her meandering train of thought.

"If honesty has brought you to dating Blaise, I think it's good that you pursue that truth," she said, and her tone became a touch harsher. "Do be careful though. It does seem like you have a habit of dropping the ball."

Harry wasn't entirely sure whether she was speaking for his own benefit or her own. It seemed to Harry that Padma was incredibly in love with her capacity for being cryptic. Having dealt with Dumbledore for six years, he had little patience for it.

"Are you threatening me?" Harry bluntly asked.

Padma gave a demure little laugh. "Threaten? It's just a little suggestion."

"Just as your 'reconnaissance' isn't gossip?"

"Exactly," she murmured. With intense eyes, she considered him for a second before nodding to herself. "Good. There's at least a brain hidden behind that handsome mug."

She laughed at his blush. "As Anthony said, you're welcome to sit with us whenever you want. Make sure to bring Blaise though."

They entered Greenhouse Three together.

As awkward as things in Gryffindor continued to be, Harry was finding that Luna's words had been prophetic. People he'd been, at best, on friendly terms with in other Houses were a lot more eager to speak to him. It'd been incredibly weird to see Susan and Blaise talking so warmly to each other when they'd decided to sit with Hufflepuff. A lot of their conversation went over his head, being about music, but it was warming all the same. Justin and Ernie had even managed to drag Blaise into a serious conversation about finance. He'd looked disinterested throughout, but Harry had become familiar with the slight quirks of his brows and lips that contradicted his neutral mask.

Stranger still, people were following their example. Smatterings of Hufflepuffs, Ravenclaws and Gryffindors were sitting at each other's tables. So far apart from himself, only the Ravenclaws seemed willing to brave dining with the Slytherins. They'd been joined on Thursday by Morag who seemed to make being quiet and intense into an artform.

Ron and Hermione remained fixtures at Gryffindor, while Daphne had overnight become a semi-permanent resident at Ravenclaw, sitting with Shafiq and his friends. He never failed to look like his day hadn't been made. Tracey seemed to bounce around, sometimes sitting with Parkinson (which Harry didn't quite understand), following either Daphne, himself and Blaise, or sitting with Megan Jones in Hufflepuff.

The Professors seemed to take it with mixed emotions. Slughorn, Sprout and Flitwick seemed delighted by all the mingling of Houses. Slughorn was even more grandiose and warm with him and Blaise in Potions than normal. Sprout took it upon herself to break up the House based pairings in Herbology and scramble people around with a sort of zeal, while Flitwick seemed to make a game of giving Harry points for the most simple of tasks, winking cheerfully every time Harry looked at him weirdly. It was strange, but there was comfort in the familiarity of Snape and McGonagall maintaining their disapproval. It obviously didn't break any rules as neither made a move to stop people from sitting at different tables.

"Thinking hard, Harry?"

Harry looked up from his half-finished essay on the Draught of Living Death to find Blaise peering at him curiously. They were sat together in a hidden room in the Astronomy section of the library that had become a frequent study spot for them. While Harry had busied himself with homework, Blaise went through what was now the third draft of his letter to his mother. The sounds of his quill loudly blotting out lines had been a recurring theme for the last half hour.

"Just thinking of how everyone's sitting with different Houses," Harry said.

Blaise leaned back from his letter, taking the opportunity of conversation to relax and drop the stone-eyed expression he'd had.

"I guess the Sorting Hat forgot to include a verse about the stunningly handsome and brilliant Slytherin and his insanely heroic Gryffindor inamorato in his plea for interhouse unity," Blaise drawled.

Picking up the context behind the Italian word, Harry playfully shoved him.

"Prat," he spat without bite. "I'm not handsome or brilliant?"

Blaise's cheeky grin softened into an arresting quirk of his lips.

"Oh, you're far more than those things, Harry," he murmured, and his hand caressed Harry's cheek. "Far more."

Harry, uncaring of the quill still in Blaise's hand, left his chair, climbed into Blaise's lap and kissed him. Blaise met his tongue with his own, chasing him teasingly as they shared breath and saliva. Just as Harry began to fiddle with Blaise's belt between ravenous kisses, the sound of rapid footfalls interrupted them.

Hermione emerged into the hollow, slightly out of breath. When her gaze met them, she smiled in relief, heedless of the way they were both still panting and clutching at each other. Harry would have been more embarrassed if not for the way Blaise seemed to own their situation, returning for one last peck, before letting him slide out of his lap, and pushing their chairs together as if to project a united front. There was a definite challenge in his eyes as he met Hermione's own.

"I've been looking for the two of you," Hermione said, and her tone was warm and conciliatory. "Can we talk?"

Harry hazarded a look at Blaise as he sat back down. Blaise shrugged.

"Sure," Harry said, and he looked weirdly at Hermione. The hidden room they were sat in was apparently known only to NEWT Astronomy students. "How'd you find us?"

"I asked Daphne and Tracey. They said you might be here," she said.

Hermione sank into the available seat opposite them, looking at them warily as if expecting immediate dismissal.

"And Ron's okay with this?" Harry asked, looking at her weirdly. He'd not come to the DA on Monday, and if not for Flitwick cancelling their detention for an emergency OWL revision session, Harry imagined he wouldn't have appeared for that either.

"Oh, Harry," she said. "He's not really angry with you."

Harry's flat expression didn't change. He was aware of that. They both were aware of that.

"I'm well aware, Hermione," Harry said. He leaned onto the table, giving Hermione the full weight of his heavy stare. "You were there when I told Ron that I'm not speaking to him until he apologises to Blaise."

Ron had had plenty to say to Harry. He'd accused him of stringing Ginny along, being weak-willed for so easily being taken in by a Slytherin and losing track of what was important. It hadn't really gotten to Harry because while he'd known that most of it could be argued to be true, he just didn't care. It wasn't right to simply say that Blaise made him happy, because he'd been happy with Ginny too, but it was that he always felt the rise of anticipation when Blaise was near, the play of nerves and fondness when he smiled at him, and the addictiveness of just sharing moments together. He'd experienced all these things while just getting to know Blaise, and that fact alone had made being with Ginny seem comparatively rote. It was exciting that every moment was novel and something he was learning to treasure.

Despite the amusement in Blaise's eyes, his mouth was a thin line. "He's angry with me, right?"

Hermione's determined expression faltered a little, likely remembering, just like Harry, some of the things that Ron had said at the height of his anger. There had been comments about Blaise's mother sprinkled in with the usual anti-Slytherin bile. She ran a hand through her hair.

"Yes," she said in a quiet voice. "He thinks you're manipulating Harry."

It was an abridged, even charitable, summary of what Ron had said, but there was no need to rehash what would only be a painful recounting. As it was, Harry was already disturbed enough by the brief stab of hurt in Blaise's eyes.

"I understand I've been more than a bit of a prick in the past. I'm entirely unapologetic about that, by the way, as that's just how I am," Blaise said. His voice was disturbingly mild to Harry's ears. Looking at Harry, he wrapped an arm around his shoulders. "I'd like to think that it was obvious that I wouldn't risk censure from my House and putting my family into danger just to manipulate Harry."

"That's exactly what we told him," Hermione said, "but Ginny was devastated, really devastated, and Ron… well, he needed someone to be mad at."

Blaise sighed. "Always easiest to be angry at the Slytherin, after all."

"Give me time," she said, flinty-eyed. "I'll work on him."

"And what do you think, Hermione?" Harry asked.

It shocked Harry when her lips blossomed in a timid smile. "Well, there's actually some chemistry this time, which is good, even if neither of you know any discretion."

Harry let out a breath he didn't know he'd been holding at her support. He'd not asked earlier, not wanting to damage their fragile peace, but it was a great source of comfort to know she would give Blaise a chance. He'd originally been planning to have the Vanishing Cabinet conversation with Blaise, but with this warm feeling in his chest, he felt it was only right to let Hermione know the latest on Malfoy.

"You do realise what this means?" Hermione asked once he'd finished.

Harry nodded grimly. "An undetected way to get people in and out of Hogwarts. Death Eaters, most likely."

"And Malfoy knows we know that he's trying to kill someone," Hermione said, and her chaotic hair jostled up and down as she leaned across the table. "We need to act fast. You've told Professor Dumbledore?"

Harry shook his head and twisted his mouth in distaste. "What's the point? He waved off my concerns last time."

"And mine," Blaise added. In face of Hermione's clear surprise, he continued. "I was the one who found out that Malfoy was trying to restore an armoire."

Hermione continued to look at Blaise taken aback, and with a mask-like flatness to his face, Blaise recounted his encounter with Malfoy. By the end, Hermione was on the verge of jumping out of her seat.

"You can't just Obliviate someone willy-nilly without a License," Hermione spluttered indignantly, and it was as if she was on the verge of shouting, even in a hidden part of the library. She stared at Blaise as if seeing him for the first time. "The potential for it to go wrong is just enormous… what is going on at Hogwarts? Weekend detentions for a failed memory wipe?!"

"He also tried to use the Cruciatus, Hermione," Harry said mildly.

"Which I'm told is also bad and illegal," Blaise added in as mild a tone as Harry.

They shared a smile, even as Hermione seemed to bounce in her seat.

"I'm so sorry about your wand, Blaise," she said once she'd settled down.

Nudging Blaise gently, Harry sighed in relief when he accepted Hermione's condolences with grace.

"That aside, I think we should sabotage him," Blaise said. "You said we can't find him or the Cabinet here at Hogwarts, so let's go to Knockturn Alley and destroy that one."

It sounded as good as any idea Harry could think of, and he voiced his approval. He turned to Hermione to find her nodding. Rather stunned by Hermione's agreement, Harry looked at her askance. "You're not even going to try and convince us otherwise?"

"We have to do something, and sooner rather than later," she said. Her face crumpled in despair, and her bushy hair fell to cover her eyes. "Ron could have died. Katie spent months recovering after she almost died. What will it take for Dumbledore to do something?"

Even with himself and Ron currently distant, Harry knew that he would act for both him and Blaise. Dumbledore may be convinced that his way was right, but Malfoy had made this beyond personal. The images of Blaise's anguished face near the kitchens, the phoenix feather he kept hidden deep in his suitcase under numerous protective enchantments, and the faint burn on the fingers of his right hand that still felt like the crackling heat of a fireplace, were all within Harry's mind as he steeled himself. Malfoy's parents would just have to pray that Voldemort was merciful.

"Hogsmeade on Saturday. Tomorrow," Harry stated, his voice firm and he looked at them both in turn. "We'll do it then."

"Sure," Blaise said, and he gave Harry an appreciative smile. "We can Apparate, I guess."

Hermione gave Blaise a considering look. "We may have our Apparition licenses, but Harry doesn't, and I don't know about you, but I've never Side-Along Apparated someone before."

"Now that I think about it," Blaise said, and his brows furrowed, "my first concern is the anti-Apparition wards surrounding Hogwarts. They extend far beyond Hogsmeade – as much as Dumbledore is convincing us otherwise, security is reasonably tight."

Hermione gave him a serious nod. "Floo is tightly controlled too. We'd likely have to go some distance into the Highlands to be able to Apparate."

"We can go by broom," Harry said. At their reproachful expressions, he elaborated his response. It'd likely be a two to three hour flight from Hogwarts to London on his Firebolt. "We go by broom until we're outside of the wards, and then we'll Apparate."

"You don't have a licence," Hermione pointed out.

Harry smirked. "That doesn't mean I'm unable to Apparate. It just means if I splinch, I'll get fined."

"I'm not even sure if I could Apparate from here to the Leaky Cauldron," Blaise murmured. "For the exam we had to Apparate from a street near the Ministry to some car park in Nottingham. That was easy enough, but I'd rather not lose an arm trying to get to London."

"We can make multiple stops," Harry said, and he frowned remembering that he'd never been anywhere outside of Surrey and London. "I don't really know anywhere in the Midlands to Apparate to though."

"I know quite a few places," Hermione offered. "It'd be best to play it safe, so we can Apparate to Glasgow, then the Lake District, Nottingham and London."

Blaise nodded. "Sounds good. You can Side-Along us then, as I'm not familiar with the north of England at all."

"I'll read up on it," Hermione said.

They began to brainstorm as to how they'd enter Diagon Alley. Hermione believed that they should do the whole endeavour stealthily with herself and Harry under the Cloak while Blaise Disillusioned himself. Harry was inclined to agree with her, though he thought they should all try and go under the Cloak if there were any sensors.

"Okay, we've settled the easy part," Blaise said. "What do we do if the Cabinet isn't in the shop? How are we going to irreparably destroy it?"

They shared with Blaise what they remembered of the layout of the shop, the plinth on which the Cabinet was resting and its appearance.

"If Blaise is right, and the Cabinet is hidden or otherwise difficult to destroy, we need time to search or figure out how to break it," Harry said.

"We'll need a distraction," Hermione added.

"I volunteer," Blaise immediately said.

At Harry's consequent look, he smiled grimly. "I don't have either of your experience with the whole saving the world business, so I'll do something where I'll be most useful."

"What do you have in mind?" Harry asked.

"I can be a customer. Sadly, I can't exactly pretend to be a British Pureblood – with the Meadowes wiped out, the only remaining prominent black Pureblood family I know of are the Shacklebolts, and they're too well-known."

Harry nodded to himself. "You'll present yourself as Italian?"

Blaise shook his head. "Too risky. I take after my mother looks-wise, somewhat."

At that admission, Harry's curiosity about Blaise's mother reared its insistent head once more. He held it in, letting Blaise continue.

"Portuguese – Mozambican to be precise. I'll be the wealthy, foreign Pureblood who wants to see what some of the finest British enchanters and inventors have to offer," he said.

Hermione digested this with a cool look. "Well, let's see your disguise."

Harry watched as Blaise conjured a mirror and flourished his wand. His hair unravelled itself, giving them a momentary peek at an afro before he brought it back to his old, closely cropped appearance with a gentle flick. He then slowly grew himself a full beard. Harry had to admit to himself when he'd finished refining it that he was quite fond of it. Highly cautious of Blaise's already monumental ego, he decided to hold his tongue on that front.

"I'm going to miss the whole princess look," Harry murmured instead.

Blaise gave him a look that Harry was sure, if it were possible, would turn him into a pile of ash.

Hermione giggled. "Princess?"

"Our dear Harry has, by some miraculous feat, convinced himself that he's funny," Blaise said, and his displeased scowl melted into a smile. "Good thing I'm with him for more than his sense of humour."

"I say the sweetest things apparently," Harry quipped.

Blaise nodded slowly. "Sure, but I was thinking more along the lines of your lips… among other things."

Hermione, bless her, gave them both an expression more akin to Daphne's disgust on Monday than her previous amusement. "I hate to interrupt," and there was not a hint of truth in her statement, "but you're still looking a little too familiar, Blaise," Hermione said.

"Well, I'm trying to avoid using glamours," Blaise explained. "I don't know if you've been reading the Prophet, but they've been stationing Aurors around high-traffic locations. If they aren't checking for concealment with Secrecy Sensors, I'll be very surprised."

Harry nodded, remembering Filch's enthusiasm at the prospect of jabbing students with his Probity Probe far too well. "That's not a risk we want to take."

"You can also use Colour Transfiguration," Hermione offered. "The Charm would obviously be detected, being a transient effect."

Moments later, Blaise stared back at them with hazel eyes and dark brown hair.

"Leandro Almeida at your service," he said with a lazy salute.

They nodded approvingly and Blaise restored his original appearance, clean-shaven, dark-eyed and black hair once more braided.

With the topic exhausted, Hermione turned to Blaise with a tentative smile. "I remember you offering me some potential advice regarding my modified Protean Charm."

Blaise was silent for a while, but he eventually returned her smile with confidence. "Sure. Let's have a look."

Relieved that Blaise had accepted Hermione's olive branch, Harry allowed the sounds of their brainstorming and occasional spellcasting to wash over him. Delighted that at least one of his closest friends was onboard with Blaise, with being proactive and acting, he decided to himself that this could and would work.

As the dirt path made way for the paved roads of Hogsmeade, Harry smiled to himself. The sight of Hogsmeade in the summer was incredibly welcome after the prison the castle had become in the last couple of weeks. It may not have been as gripping as it was in winter when the ground was thick with snow and the scenic cottages were evocative of holiday postcards, but it was a much-welcomed change of pace.

"So… Puddifoot's?" Harry asked.

Blaise stopped in his tracks to stare at him. "There's jokes and then there's insanity, Harry."

"Fair enough," Harry said, snickering under his breath at the thought of Blaise surrounded by the tacky décor. He almost wished he was being sincere. "I'll do my best to toe the line better in the future."

"That's all I ask," Blaise said. "I need to pick up some things at Dervish & Banges for my viola, if you don't mind."

They made their way to the shop, exchanging greetings and small talk with students that stopped to talk to them. He spied Hermione and Ron, hand in hand, along with Neville and Ginny going into the Three Broomsticks as they crossed the main square. Missing his friends, Harry felt a pang of longing run through him.

"Chin up," Blaise said, giving him a wry smile. Harry flushed in embarrassment at being so obvious. "You heard Daphne on Monday. Besides, you've got me."

They approached Dervish & Banges in a somewhat awkward silence, and on the cobbled stone wall outside of Dervish & Banges, Harry found a poster of Bellatrix Lestrange in her threadbare Azkaban outfit holding a placard, engraved with harshly drawn runic glyphs. She stood in the loosest sense of the word. Within the picture, she jerked about in a manic frenzy, always with a contemptuous sneer and only stopping occasionally to scream silently into the void. With her dark features, she was horribly evocative of Sirius' old poster. Harry stared at her, imprisoned within the icy grips of a chilling anger. Harry had hated several people in his life: Voldemort, Malfoy, Snape, Umbridge, but Bellatrix occupied a special echelon, not necessarily above Voldemort but not below him. Sirius had given him hope, hope of brighter days, and he'd been stolen away from him so suddenly.

Harry remained statue still until Blaise stepped into his line of sight, obscuring his view of the hated poster.

"Harry," Blaise murmured, and he turned to face the poster before his narrow eyes focused on Harry with calm intent.

"Harry," he repeated.

It wasn't until he felt Blaise draw him into his chest that he snapped out of it.

"I've never seen you look like that before," Blaise murmured into his hair, and his gaze when he stepped back was transparently worried. "We'll talk about this later."

Harry remained outside as Blaise went inside the shop, watching the stream of people come and go from shop to shop. By the time Blaise returned, placing a shrunken bag into his satchel, Harry was feeling somewhat like himself.

"Sorry about that," he said.

Blaise looked at him unconvinced, and he answered his apology with a curious tilt of his head. "We'll talk about it later," he repeated.

Their usual easy rapport was frayed, whether it was entirely due to his sombre mood he couldn't say, but he desperately wanted the tension to ease. They wandered around the village, conversation halting, but with distance from Dervish & Banges came increasing calm from Harry. By the time they were approaching the outskirts of Hogsmeade to wait for Hermione, they were somewhat back to normal. Harry focused on his breathing, knowing he'd need to have control of himself for what was to come, even as Blaise told him a funny story of how Tracey had ended up on a disastrous, blind date with Adrian Pucey in their fifth year. As they laughed, he managed to abandon his thoughts from the path beside the rustic gate they were both leaning against. It led towards the cave Sirius had hidden in during the Triwizard.

Harry waved as a familiar face lumbered up the hill towards them. Time had proved to be not much of a healer for Tonks. Harry noted that she was still as mousy-haired and thin as she'd been when he'd last seen her at Christmas.

"Wotcher, Harry," Tonks said, offering them a wan smile.

He nodded at her. "Hey, Tonks."

She introduced herself half-heartedly to Blaise, none of her characteristic playfulness intact, and with a warning for the two of them not to leave the village limits, she carried on with her patrol.

"She seemed pretty depressed," Blaise murmured to him once she was gone.

Harry shrugged. He was sure Hermione knew why, given how cosied up together they'd been during Christmas at the Burrow, but he knew that it'd be a bad idea for him to pry.

As if his thoughts summoned her, Hermione approached them in a jog. Clad in a hooded top, a pair of jeans and trainers, she was dressed remarkably like Harry. He wasn't entirely sure when they'd decided on their "almost get killed to stop Wizarding Britain falling to shit" uniform, but the thought amused him. Blaise, clearly not yet on board with their way of things, had opted for a shirt and pair of casual trousers.

They moved behind a rock formation at the top of the hill leading outside of the village. Acutely aware of the fact Hermione had likely ditched the others and time was limited, Harry gave Blaise a significant look.

"Spare me a moment to get changed," Blaise murmured.

He turned into the nearby alleyway with his satchel in hand, fading out of view with a twirl of his wand around his head. Harry and Hermione used his absence to go over the plan once more; their plan was very much still an outline, but Harry had always been more for improvising as things developed. They'd be fine.

Blaise appeared out of thin air minutes later. Harry had expected a set of incredibly expensive robes to fully sell the Pureblood aesthetic, but that wasn't what Blaise had opted for. He hadn't been expecting those finely tailored grey robes to simply be a thin unbuttoned layer tied at the neck. Beneath the robes, Blaise had a loose, yellow long-shirt emblazoned with swirling, geometric purple patterns. His matching trousers, also free flowing, exposed the barest hint of ankle before ending in a pair of polished loafers that looked more expensive than Vernon's favourite car. Now that he thought about it, minus the hat, Blaise was dressed quite similarly to the African wizards they'd seen at the Quidditch World Cup. He should have expected it, but it was still a shock to associate cool, distant Blaise with such a vibrant ensemble.

Blaise smirked at them, and he stroked at his beard. "Well?"

"You look very… authentic," Hermione said, looking him up and down in appraisal. "It'll work."

Harry thought he'd stand out like a beacon in the alley, but what really mattered was that it'd be difficult to link his current guise back to Blaise. It would be easy to simply pin down Blaise's strategy as purely being refuge in audacity, but even the way he held himself was different. While there was still the overwhelming self-confidence and arrogance that was emblematic of Blaise, there was a genuine warmth in the way he held himself. Harry would even consider calling him approachable. It might just be the clothing though; Harry was certain it could make even Snape look somewhat cheerful.

Harry voiced his own approval, his mind recalling Kingsley's sharp dress sense with ease. "You remind me of Kingsley Shacklebolt, Mr Almeida."

He fixed them both with a brilliant smile, and his usual baritone was tinged in a mellifluous accent when he spoke. "The Shacklebolts are Grenadian, but I'll try not to be offended by your ignorance."

Despite Blaise's teasing tone, Hermione audibly tutted at Harry. He mumbled a half-hearted apology as he retrieved his Firebolt and the Cleansweep Seven he'd liberated from the Gryffindor Quidditch changing rooms from his pocket, and he tapped them with his wand to unshrink them.

"You've clearly put in a lot of effort," Hermione murmured.

In stark opposition to her barbed comment at Slug Club about his vanity, it seemed quite complimentary. Harry was inclined to agree.

Blaise's smile didn't falter as he stepped closer to them both. He took the Cleansweep from Harry. "You either work to do things properly or you don't do them at all," he said.

Harry watched as Blaise got into position on his broom with a relaxed smile, acting as if he were going for a simple stroll rather than an infiltration of a Dark magical artefact shop in Knockturn Alley. Blaise's confidence was infectious, and Harry turned to Hermione, a question in his eyes. She nodded firmly at him.

Retrieving his Cloak from his bag, he draped it over himself and Hermione and secured it with liberal Sticking Charms. Blaise leaned over to tag his broom with a Tracking Charm and Disillusionment before perching himself on his own invisible broom. One final wave of his wand and Blaise was hidden once more. Harry waited for Hermione to finish sidling on behind him and securing her arms around him, and with a low whistle from him, they shot into the sky.