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Lacerta had done as she'd said, and told him all about the Triwizard Tournament. Of the history, the previous games, what oft occurred and what could be expected of that which was upcoming. Harry had to admit, it sounded like it'd be fun to watch, but Merlin, he'd have to be barmy to willingly take part in it; there was already a man and his group of followers out to get him.
Harry snorted at the thought. Voldemort had tried to get him thrice over at the very least, and every single time, this supposed 'Dark Lord' had failed miserably. It'd be his luck that the tournament, were he in it, would get him; that was just how it went with him. The most astounding things could occur when they needed to, almost like miracles… but then he'd get himself in trouble or harm's way in the stupidest of fashions.
That Potter luck shined through.
"...—tter, you better be listening to me." Lacerta's voice and the latter words of whatever she'd been saying broke him from the mystification that'd taken hold of him as his mind still went over the tournament.
"I am," Harry blinked at her.
"Oh?" Lacerta arched a brow at him. "Then what was it that I'd said?"
"Something about… the tournament?"
Lacerta raised a hand, and flicked the tip of his nose. "No."
"What was it?" Harry gave her a sheepish smile thereafter. "Sorry. Was thinking about the tournament. What'd you say?"
"Better." Lacerta said with her nose raised in the air. "I had mentioned our newest Professor. He's just made his way to the table."
In an instant, Harry's eyes went from her, to the table where the aforementioned new professor was seated. When they landed on the man, he nearly did a double take, such was how unconvinced he was that he'd seen correctly.
Their new professor was battle-scarred and dressed unlike any of the others. One of his eyes seemed to be gone, replaced by some form of magically enchanted one; he was missing a leg too, which was most certainly replaced by something that didn't seem magically enchanted, just wooden.
"What was his name again?" Harry looked back Lacerta's way when he posed his question.
"Professor Moody," Lacerta wrinkled her nose. "Alastor Moody — ex-Auror, and one that was quite the barb in Father's side. He's very serious, and Father says he's very paranoid."
"Ex-Auror?" Harry had figured it'd be something along those lines. The grizzled man looked downright vicious. "He should be our best Defense Professor yet."
"I can't say I'm thrilled." Lacerta's voice was deadpan, and then she plucked a chip from his plate.
He supposed that was that, and with a smirk as she plucked another, he tucked into his dinner.
Neither noticed the looks the others sat around them sent their way, lost in their world as they were.
Harry knew something was off about her from the start of the day, but before the glance he'd stolen, he'd thought she'd just not slept well or felt a cold coming on.
That 'offness', however, was a fact he knew for certain when he'd glanced at the letter she'd pulled from her satchel by accident, when she'd meant to retrieve a tome for their evening's study session she surprisingly hadn't cancelled on him.
He'd seen only a few lines of it, but he'd picked out the problem; her parents wished for her to recollect specifically what'd occurred all the way back in their second year, when this whole change in relations had been brought about. He wasn't sure what'd brought that back up, but he was certain she knew… the question then became, did he want to press her?
She'd seemed sour since the morning, when they'd shared a quick few words before they'd gone to their respective tables and friends. Usually, one or the other would sit for some time at the Gryffindor or Slytherin table. If it'd gotten her to such an irregular state, the odds were she'd be very cross with him if he attempted to pry.
Lacerta much preferred to share when she was ready, not when she was prompted.
"Alright?" Harry opted for, after he saw her finish setting up the tomes and sheets of parchment before where they were seated.
"Quite." Lacerta regarded him with a cool glance. "And you?"
He fixed her with a smile that he hoped would lighten up whatever cloud had gone over her. "Wicked."
Lacerta snorted; a sound she'd never have dared to make when first they'd met all that often, but one he'd come to know just as readily as her scoff or pointed coughs. They were more oft than not targeted at others, but he'd get his own on occasion. "You were looking at me strangely."
"When?"
"Seconds ago," One dainty, pale finger prodded him in the upper arm. "It wasn't the usual stare of 'she's entirely too beautiful' either. That's one I'm very accustomed to — so speak your mind. That's what Gryffindors do, isn't it?"
Gryffindor as he was, that boldness had all too often left him when he was face to face with pretty witches.
"Yeah?"
Lacerta folded her arms and shifted in her seat so that she could look at him head on. With one leg resting atop the other, a sharp brow raised and those aforementioned folded arms, she looked the quintessential Malfoy brat. "Yes." But that all melted away a few seconds later, when a second word joined the first. "Please?"
Harry swallowed and thought for a second how best to phrase what he meant to say. "I was trying to figure out what was wrong, really. You were a bit different this morning than usual, and even now, you were a bit, I don't know." He struggled for the right word to use. "Vacant? There was that letter you snatched up right quick too — I can help, whatever it is."
Her nose twitched. "You've helped entirely too much already," Lacerta looked away after saying such words, but not before he took notice of the light dusting of red that'd come to her face.
"Can't help too much. That's not how that works." That was a fact too. He'd always help those that needed it, especially if they were as close as he and she were.
As for Lacerta, well, she was decidedly uncertain. Harry was the source of many feelings, some bothersome, and some entirely too wonderful. Did she want to make him think he'd constantly have to worry about her or provide help for her?
Certainly not.
Yet, if the person that'd ruined her second year and nearly cost her life went unpunished, what sort of precedent did that speak for her family? The Malfoys were already in trouble given the shift in their allegiance post-saving as it was, they wouldn't be seen as weak in that same breath.
Lacerta pointed her wand past Harry, at the door to the abandoned classroom they'd co opted for their studies together — and with friends, whensoever they showed up — and locked it. A silencing charm had been on the tip of her wand not a second later, but she opted not to cast it; Tracey wouldn't let the matter drop if they were made to wait to be let in whilst it was just the two of them.
She looked back at Harry, and saw that he was still just sat there, calm and patient. It was admirable, and very chivalrous that he wasn't short with her as many wizards were when made to wait; that accursed, fluttering feeling came back at such thoughts, and so she squashed them as she opened her mouth. "Do you remember the tome you'd destroyed?" The blush on her cheek faded fast when mention was made of the moment their paths had changed.
"I haven't forgotten most of that day, really," Harry said with a queer sort of look in his eyes. "Reckon it's hard to."
Lacerta felt much the same. She remembered nearly everything with a strange vividness — at times, it was like everytime she closed her eyes, she was back in that moment, but then it'd go away.
"Would you write to Mother and recollect everything? Father… won't let the matter drop, and believes he knows who was responsible for what'd happened." Lacerta didn't believe such words from him, but Father was Father, so she couldn't very well tell him no, she won't write to him all that she could remember.
"I can do that." Harry smiled at her again.
"My thanks." Lacerta was quick to change the subject thenceforth, pleased to have been open with him and more pleased he'd picked up on the oddity in her behaviour; it meant he was aware of her in a fashion few were. "Would yo—"
"Professor Moo—"
The pair paused when each realised the other was trying to speak.
Lacerta gestured for him, but he shook his head.
"Witches first."
That drew another snort from her, but all the same she spoke — before she did so, however, unfolded her arms and instead, let her hands rest atop one another whilst in her lap. There was no longer that anxious urge to keep her arms up as they'd been. "I had wanted to see how you were doing after Professor Moody's class, I was just a touch too busy sulking."
Harry laughed, and the noise pleased her; she'd wanted to lighten the mood given she'd been tense throughout the entire day. There was also a strange urge to rip smiles and laughter from him whensoever she pleased.
"I'm fine, really," He met her eyes without pause, and staring into his as she was, Lacerta very nearly believed him.
Then she saw the flicker of hesitation, where his gaze shifted to just beyond her shoulder before returning to her eyes.
That made her straighten her back, and level him with a gaze not unlike that which her mother would give her during some times. "If you'd like to speak about it, we can."
"Another time, I think." Harry's smile was still on his face, but it seemed there wasn't the same force behind it as there'd previously been.
Lacerta gave a very slight dip in acknowledgement, and again, shifted the course of the conversation to something that should leave neither of them particularly bothered. "Would you like to hear what else Mother and Father conveyed to me about the tournament?"
He gave a nod that Lacerta and the other refined witches would call 'blokely'. When she arched her brow at him, he gave a verbal acknowledgement. "Yeah."
"Wonderful," Lacerta leaned in, as if she were telling him a secret despite it being but the two of them. Harry leaned in to match her; she grew very aware of how close it made them, but it was normal, wasn't it? He'd kissed her before. "The other two schools, Beauxbatons and Durmstrang, will be here within the month. Quidditch, clubs and most of our studies will be altered in some fashion or cancelled outright."
It was Harry's turn to sulk.
"Move," Lacerta, with Harry's hand in one of her own, demanded as she looked at the two overgrown boys before her; Crabbe and Goyle.
They looked at her, looked at Harry and those behind him, and grumbled something unintelligible. Then they moved away, slinking towards another particularly large Slytherin boy.
"What a way with words." Tracey's comment made Lacerta send a withering look over her shoulder at her, but that lasted for a second, if that.
Lacerta was far more in favour of pulling Harry into the front-row spot she'd just secured for their group. One which would allow them a wondrous view of the lake and the sky. Father had told her how the others would arrive, and so thenceforth it'd been a fact that she and Harry would view them hand-in-hand alongside their friends in the best spot a spectator could have.
"Yo—"
Her words weren't given the chance to be said before the first arrival made itself known.
It was a carriage in the sky.