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September first had come, and with it, no small amount of news her father had 'accidentally' given her by way of leaving multiple letters in the hall, atop the stand near to her door. What Harry had been most pleased with, was the mention of Arthur Weasley and the rest of his clan getting out unscathed.
Father had, surprisingly, been pleased with the outcome as well, albeit for different reasons — the Weasleys so oft made fools of themselves or were made fools of by families not unlike hers, that he deemed them necessary to showcase why their — the Malfoys — way of life was the right way to live. Would you wish to be some bumbling fool that held unimportant offices in a Ministry that cared not for you or the division you worked for, or those who broke bread with the Minister and sat with all wizarding celebrities or people of importance?
Lacerta knew what she'd choose… yet she'd be lying if she claimed her father's reason as her own. The Weasleys meant something to Harry beyond what words could convey; that'd been obvious after he'd called them family. So naturally, for the sake of her crush, the boy who'd taken her first kiss and dared to lay claim to the second, she wished them well.
She'd done so without even having to wrinkle her nose as well.
"Remember to write to me every weekend, and whensoever I reach out to you. Ensure when you're at Hogsmeade you're dressed appropriately and have the right charms in mind — stay away from the Forbidden Forest as well," Her mother rambled, much like every year when it was time to Floo to King's Cross station for the Express. Narcissa even went so far as to pull Lacerta close and fuss over her hair, her manner of dress, her satchel; everything.
"Mum," Lacerta's tone was nearly a whinge, especially with Harry watching all the while from behind the pair, a stupid, handsome, idiotic grin on his face. "Mum!" the second time she said it, her voice came out in a quiet hiss.
Narcissa pulled back with an exaggerated pout… and she raised her hands right after they finished plucking a single hair that had fallen to the shoulder of her casual wear. "My apologies, daughter. You're beautiful enough without all my fussing, and you remember all that you need year after year sans the help of that stupid little invention. I'm very proud of you."
Lacerta's cheeks heated up something fierce upon hearing her mother's words, and try as she might, she couldn't play it off as anything but embarrassment at the praise she'd received. Harry's grin grew wider, she saw. He'd likely tease her to no end — probably not, he wasn't the git she thought him to be, but such a thought did help her gain control of that annoying flush that overcame her.
"Thank you, mum," Lacerta said quietly, and as she suddenly found a strap to her satchel particularly distracting.
Narcissa leaned in once more, and pressed her lips to either of Lacerta's cheeks, a surprisingly girlish giggle coming from the older woman upon the deeper reddening of those aforementioned cheeks.
Harry too seemed to be finding the happenings before him quite amusing, but that didn't remain that way for long.
"And you, Harry," Narcissa said, stepping away from her daughter and turning to address the young man that'd changed the monotony, and course of their lives. "I would have you write to me too, be it for the sake of my wondrous wisdom and words whenever needed, or if you'd simply like to speak with somebody. My warnings for you remain the same as well — keep safe and out of trouble."
"I will ma'am." Harry dipped his head, and spoke the words with utmost sincerity.
Narcissa tutted. "Surely you'll still not refer to me as ma'am after all the time you've spent with us. That's completely unacceptable." She opened her arms, and fixed him with the look Lacerta would when she was expectant, and haughty; the younger girl had gotten it from somewhere, hadn't she? "I'd have my hug."
Lacerta wanted the ground to open and swallow her hole with how affectionate and pushy her mother was being. Harry was a wizard, and nearing the age of those in Slytherin — at least just in Slytherin so far as she knew — who seemed to grow testier, quicker to violence, and independent.
Surely he'd dislike the excessive… attention…
She blinked.
Harry hadn't delayed in walking up to her mum for the hug she'd requested.
And her mother certainly wasn't shy in shooting Lacerta a smirk over his right shoulder, one of the utmost winning quality. She withdrew from the hug after a second or so, but the pair didn't immediately separate from one another. No, Lacerta saw her mother clutch the front of his robes and pick at them as she'd done to her initially.
That wasn't all either. Her mother's lips were moving, but the words which they spoke couldn't be overheard. A discreet privacy charm or excessive quiet seemed to have seen to that.
"Alright," Narcissa clapped her hands together and looked between the pair with a smile, now suddenly audible once more. "Should you have any issues, need of Galleons or any other desire, write to me. This year especially."
Harry opened his mouth to ask something, likely what she meant, but Lacerta cut him off; it was her job to explain to him later, when they were aboard the Express and couldn't be heard. "We will, Mother."
"Wonderful. Go with my love, Lacerta," Narcissa's eyes switched to Harry. "And you as well, Harry."
And so the pair did.
"What'd your mum mean?" The words were the first Harry spoke once they were both out of the Floo room they'd entered from. "This year especially, I'm quoting."
Lacerta blinked. Of course he'd not let that lie until they were aboard the Express — she did have to give credit where it was due though. He was wise to take exception to what her mother had said. "I'll not say a word of it until we're aboard the train and with privacy charms up."
"But you know what she meant, yeah?"
"Naturally," Lacerta nearly scoffed. "When aren't I aware of what's happening to Hogwarts?"
"Second year." Harry said without hesitation or blinking. "I'd say fi—"
"If you'd ever wish to receive a second kiss, you'll not finish your sentence," Lacerta's tone was as sweet as her mother's when she'd give Father a dressing down.
And just like her father, Harry stopped. Unlike him, however, he shot her a grin that was full-up with self satisfaction.
"Anything dangerous?"
"Not to us," Lacerta had narrowed her eyes, but she remained their contact of his own. "This year, it'd be very difficult for you to catch yourself up in the usual issues that arise. I imagine you'll have much and more in the way of free time… which means I'll need to spend much of my own, with you."
Harry snorted. "Don't have to. Ron, Seamus and my Quidditch mates could fall into contention with you if they think you're trying to steal me away. Reckon Ron especially would be sour."
"I'll not worry about any words they have for me," Lacerta raised her nose. "It's only natural as we go up in year, you spend more time with witches, and who else but I would you do so with? Granger?" she scoffed. "Bones or Greengrass?"
She felt her point was made.
"So I can still get that second kiss?"
Lacerta's nose twitched, and then as if she only remembered now where they were, her eyes went wide as she took in the surrounding crowd. It was very unlikely their words were overheard with the myriad of conversations that turned into a stream of endless, unintelligible chatter… but by Morgana, did it still bring heat to her face, the loudness and boldness which Harry spoke with.
"Perhaps. If you're smart." Lacerta looked around to ensure she truly hadn't been heard, and when she found not one pair of eyes upon their persons, she let out a breath.
Nary a few seconds later, after she'd started them to the onboarding of the train with her flush receding, the pair were greeted by a yell that sounded over the noise of the crowd.
"Lacy! Potty!" Tracey had found them.
Lacerta grasped Harry's hand — she'd let go when she'd jolted at the sudden, loud voice — and squeezed. "Look forward. She'l—"
"You can hear me! You stopped walki— ouch, that wa…" Tracey's voice grew quite, falling away into the many other voices that acted the part of an ambient chorus.
It was likely Daphne had silenced her. She'd thank her later with chocolates and a half-year witch weekly subscription. Abysmal as the writing of love stories therein oft was, the paper still made for a good source of rumours, and the latest fashion trends throughout the wizarding world as a whole.
"Here," Harry said, snapping Lacerta from her thoughts as he held out a hand. "Figure you're used to being helped up." The smirk he wore was indicative of a jest, and not genuine sourness.
Lacerta arched her brow at him prior to her eyes falling upon the hand he'd offered. "When I had Crabbe and Goyle at my beck and call, they would form stairs I'd climb."
Harry snorted. "Fat chance of that happening," he reached out, and grasped her left hand as it lingered by her side. Speaking as she might about Crabbe or Goyle, Harry's hands felt less soft, and more secure; the thought made her cheeks flush just as much as the bold act he'd committed had. "I'll get your luggage."
With a gentle urging by way of him pulling his hand up, Lacerta climbed the staircase attached to the train with all the grace she could muster in her — seemingly permanent — state of embarrassment. The thoughts of others truly didn't matter to her all that much considering so many of them were without significance in the wizarding world… but with Harry looking at her so intently and acting the part of a perfect gentleman, it was hard to act in a way that was befitting of her standing.
Hence the reason she'd tumbled upon the final step.
Right into him.
She supposed with one of his hands holding onto her, it wasn't all that surprising that he'd pull her close rather than risk her falling backwards.
"It was your fault I fell, you know."
Harry looked down at her, and keeping his hold, slowly straightened her. "My fault?"
"Yes." Lacerta raised her nose. "You can make it up to me by rubbing my feet once we choose a compartment."
With those parting words, she started into the train proper, and Harry, with her luggage as well as his own, followed after her with a baffled face.
Even as he chuckled.
"So." Harry slipped into the space beside her with a huff, having just tucked away all their belongings. He was flush against her too — unlike when first they'd begun to spend time together, he no longer had any qualms with physical contact. He almost seemed to yearn for it, especially after their kiss over the pitch. "What was that about telling me what your mum meant?"
Lacerta folded her hands primly in her lap, and turned to regard him.
"There's to be the resumption of the Triwizard Tournament."
Harry looked at her as if that was supposed to mean something, and when no words came of him, he shrugged. "Yeah?" The questioning tone of voice he had was indicative of what she'd assumed.
That being he knew absolutely nothing as to what the tournament was.
In truth, Lacerta only knew what her parents had told her… and Father, for a change, seemed to be less in the know than was normal.
Mayhaps that had to do with what she'd overheard. Mother and Father's business dealings were rife with issues these days.
"I'll tell you all I know." Lacerta pushed down such thoughts and fixed Harry with a look of amusement; she did so love to teach him of their world.