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Lacerta had waited for Harry to reappear from when first his name had been called. She wasn't the only one, either. Granger was there, but Ron, usually a good cohort of Harry's, hadn't come along. Nor had any other from his House.
That was… peculiar.
"Granger." She was the only one that was truly present for Harry. "Is something the matter with Ron?"
"What do you mean?" The other witch turned to regard her; Lacerta thought she saw a hint of something guarded in her eyes.
"Why didn't Ronald join you? I expected him to be here, seeing as how close he and Harry are. It seems... unusual."
"He's not very pleased, at the moment." Granger didn't seem to want to give anymore.
"About what, if I may ask?" She did her best to keep her tone as neutral as possible. Ron was one of Harry's better friends, and dislike him as she might for reasons beyond those which her father had once imposed, she respected that friendship. That didn't mean, however, that she'd not be nosy.
"He thinks Harry lied to him and entered his name alone." Hermione's face seemed sour. "There were plenty of times where Harry could've when he was away from us, but I imagine you'd have been with him."
"I was," Lacerta knew he spent his time with only three groups, two of which were very nearly one and the same; Granger and Ronald, his Quidditch mates, and her group of Slytherins. He was seldom one that'd be alone. "You're aware he didn't do it, aren't you?"
"Of course I am," Granger sounded insulted. "Ron's just... not thinking clearly right now. I expect he'll come around soon enough."
"Good," She wouldn't have him interfering with Harry's happiness. Little she might know about the specifics of the tournament or tasks involved, one thing Lacerta did know, was how dangerous it was said to be. That wouldn't be good.
Not at all.
They heard the door from whence Harry had gone off to, and she and Granger both looked thereto.
Unfortunately, it wasn't the boy each sought.
Fleur Delacour, the Veela French girl that'd been selected from Beauxbatons, exited the room and made haste away.
Lacerta and Granger followed her path until she'd disappeared from their view, and then each turned back to the door.
"She didn't seem very pleased." Lacerta noted.
"No," Granger shook her head, but didn't say anything more. It seemed she was letting her worry get to her more than Lacerta was.
In truth, she didn't know why that'd be. Harry had a whole host of feats and talents at his disposal, not the least of which were his dueling and Quidditch prowess. He'd be able to make use of those skills, at least in some part, and wherever he lacked knowledge or talent, she would help h—
"Do you think he's okay?" Granger spoke up again, when Harry didn't immediately follow after Fleur.
"Of course he is," Lacerta was quick to answer. Harry'd faced off against a Basilisk, and from what she knew, worse, before. Words would do little and his name being withdrawn from the Cup, whilst stupid and very obviously meant to endanger him, wouldn't change anything. "Why wouldn't he be?"
Granger began to pace in small, little circles. "Of course he is. Yeah. You're right." She let out a little breath. "I worry sometimes. That's all."
Lacerta couldn't blame her; she felt the same regardless of how oft she recollected his past deeds.
When he finally made his exit nearly ten minutes later, Lacerta and Granger both had their eyes locked on the door.
He looked tired, and not the sort that'd come from after a full, heavy meal.
"Harry," Hermione was quick to step forward and take hold of him. "What happened? Is everything alright?"
"Yeah, I'm fine," He shook his head. "I'm just..." He sighed. "It's complicated. A mess, really. I won't be able to withdraw, they've told me."
Lacerta and Hermione had already thought as much; that didn't mean the former would simply accept this for what it was. There had to be something her father could do to aid Harry. Be it by way of finding a loophole, or making use of the many contacts he'd accrued through the years.
"Are you sure you're okay?" Hermione asked again.
"I'm fine, 'Mione."
"I'll talk with my parents," Lacerta was quick to speak. "There'll be something they can do."
Harry looked back at her, and his face softened. He looked very grateful. "Thanks," He held out a hand then. "Library?"
Lacerta stepped forward, and took it, her fingers threading through his.
"Yeah," She agreed. "The Library."
Granger's eyes focused on those joined hands for a few seconds' time, then they went back to meet Harry's. "I'll wait for you in the comm—"
"Come with us. Figure you two would be the ones that know the most about the tournament and what not," He was right, of course. She was the smartest witch of their year, begrudging as that admittance was to make, and Lacerta herself, a Pureblood raised in the world of the Magic; the highest end too. There was a reason she and others, like Greengrass or the Carrows might be referred to as Princesses.
In truth, they practically were, but that matter was another thing altogether.
"I'll stop by the Tower and grab a few books. You and Lacerta can take one of the more private rooms in the back." Granger's comment was wise.
Lacerta seldom enjoyed the looks many a wizard would send her way, but what bothered her more was the witches that'd stare at Harry. That'd only be getting worse in the coming days, given what'd happened. Morgana, even Daphne's own sister, Astoria, had shown an interest in him.
Daphne had thought that the most amusing thing ever.
"Sounds like a plan," Harry turned to face Lacerta and the door. "Ready to go?"
"I've been waiting on you." Lacerta's reply was immediate and without thought. After those words of hers hung in the air, a heat came to her cheeks. It sounded a bit more bold or dependent than she desired.
But then she saw him smile a little at that, and his hand gave hers a little squeeze. Maybe that was what he'd needed. A more prominent display of affection in both word and action alike.
"C'mon, let's get started," Harry pulled her along then, and with one final look back, they saw Granger leaving to fetch those books.
With one last lingering glance at the other witch, Lacerta tightened her hand 'round Harry's and glanced up at him. "You're not lying, are you? About being fine?"
Harry looked down at her, and that same soft smile that'd been there moments prior, remained.
"Yeah, I'm fine."
"Promise?" She didn't care if she sounded needy.
"Promise."
She could only hope he was telling the truth. If he wasn't, she'd find out; Gryffindors were terrible at lying.
Lacerta grinned down at the parchment Mother had sent her. It didn't contain the information she'd hoped it might, that being anything that might set Harry free from his current predicament, but Father, sure enough, had many a contact involved in the tournament. Already, he had sent out word, and in a day or two's time, would have answers.
She would just have to be patient.
That would be difficult.
She didn't like the thought of Harry in any sort of danger, and given the way Mother's letter had been written, the Tournament had a reputation for being exactly that.
Harry's voice reached her ears from where he sat on the couch, reading.
"Something wrong?"
Lacerta held aloft the letter. Harry had her trust to read any word her parents might send her... so long as they didn't involve Mother teasing her about him. "My mother's informed me Father's making moves to aid you in the Tournament."
"How?" Harry looked back at her and placed his book aside.
"Contacts, mainly. Some are involved in the Tournament directly, but others serve various, specific tasks. Already, there's word of dragons and the like, so we're going to have a rather interesting few months." She folded the letter, and set it aside.
"Dragons?" His brows shot up.
"We'll see you prepared. I have a pass for the restricted section from Snape. He's always been kind to me, and I imagine it'll be amusing for you to benefit from that kindness." Lacerta wiggled one of her hands into his as she floated the letter over to his side of the table; he could read it whenever he wanted. "Father will have a tome or two for us as well, and that's not even thinking about Granger and what she'll be able to scrounge up from the library."
Harry was quiet.
"What is it?"
"Just..." He looked a little sheepish. "Not sure what I did to deserve you."
That made her cheeks colour. It was the last thing she'd been expecting to hear from him, and yet it was so perfectly Harry. She smiled, and leaned into him, resting her head against his shoulder. "Other than save me after how much of a brat I was to you in our first year and all the time since?" She cocked her head to one side, and a hip soon followed. "Or how kind you've been? Maybe it's all those things we've done together over the summer."
He deserved the gushing praise, and her affections, but if Harry thought her overly-attached, then that might be bad, right?
Morgana, wizards were a challenge to understand.
But at least hers was as perfect as perfect could be.
Lacerta batted her eyes at Professor Snape, herself the picture of innocence and demure grace, as she stood in front of his desk.
"Potter's needed?" He arched a brow as his eyes went to the aforementioned boy, seated at his desk as he was; they went back to Lacerta, narrowed. "Fine. I trust you'll not see him lost or delayed?"
Sweet as the honeyed cakes she'd eat over breakfast, Lacerta nodded. "I'll see Potter to and from his destination without issue, Professor."
"Good."
With that, Lacerta led the way out, Harry's hand in hers as soon as they were out of Snapes' view; she walked them both down the corridors.
"Thought Colin was meant to take me?" Harry sounded a touch amused.
"Colin was," Lacerta looked up at him, her nose raised. "Then he was sent away. There were other tasks that needed attending."
"Such as?"
"Aren't you the curious one," Lacerta let her fingers brush against his, and the grin she wore only grew. "That's unimportant, Harry. What is important, is telling you about what you'll be facing at the end of this walk — Rita Skeeter. A most annoying and unpleasant woman."
"How should I handle her then? You've clearly got an idea." Harry knew her well.
Lacerta grinned. "Father saw to it that Rita's firmly in our pocket some time ago. She'll write nothing but flattering words and thoughts about you. You should have her as an ally."
"I thought she was a reporter."
"Yes," Lacerta agreed. "But she's one with connections and an eye for a good, flattering story."
Harry snickered. "You Slytherins and your games," He tightened his hand 'round hers. "Suppose I can benefit from it, for a change."
"Yes you most certainly can." Lacerta's grin morphed into a smug-looking smile. "There'll be more you'll benefit from in time, once you start to make use of your name."
"I sho—"
"You definitely should, believe me." Lacerta paused when a few students appeared near them at the end of the hall. When they walked past her, she raised her nose higher; young, baby Hufflepuffs were far too loud and obnoxious, and to think it wasn't even the evening yet — once they were gone, she resumed. "Until then, you'll just have to use mine."
"Yeah?"
Her nose couldn't go any higher, but that didn't stop her from trying to a comical degree.
"Yeah."
Harry and Lacerta were sat together in the library with Daphne and Tracey at the opposite side of the table as all four looked on at the day's Prophet article.
As he'd suspected, his interview with Rita Skeeter — a supposed 'friend' of the Malfoy's — was front and centre. Despite Lacerta's words, he'd worried that she'd spin the conversation in a manner that'd have her writing less-than-flattering things.
But she hadn't.
Sure enough, as Lacerta had said, each and every answer he'd given to her questions — all of which seemed carefully picked — had been printed alongside his smiling face and a flattering write-up about him.
Lacerta seemed very happy as she peered down at the page; she had the right to be, as the proof before them showed.
"That's... good," Harry let out a little breath. It felt weird to have things go well for him, all things considered.
"I'm glad," Lacerta looked up at him then and her hand came to rest on his forearm. "You shouldn't be made a fool of by these idiots. They'll regret it when the time comes as it is."
She was referencing those that took-up Cedric's 'cause'. Hufflepuff, a good portion of Ravenclaw, and even some Gryffindors had been caught wearing 'Potter Stinks' badges.
Who'd have thought the house that caused the least issue would be the one which historically had caused the most issues?
"No need to get back at them by doing anything." Harry meant that too. "Reckon I just need to focus on staying alive since I can't leave the Tournament."
Lacerta and Daphne exchanged a look.
"Harry," Daphne began. "Don't worry about that."
"I won't." He'd promised.
"Good," Lacerta leaned into him. "You'll have our assistance, and Granger's, and I imagine after some small amount of time, Weasley and those others will return."
"He's pettier than I thought," Daphne added her two sickles in.
Harry normally would've taken up his friend's defense, but Ron was deserving of some annoyance.
How could he possibly think Harry had entered his name?
"He'll see reason after Harry proves triumphant in the first task. This interview is only the first part of it." Lacerta's grin was sharp. "You brought the tomes, right?"
Greengrass and Davis shared a nod as they procured the books in question and set them before the duo.
"This'll take awhile," Lacerta said, giving him a look as she did so. "But it'll prove worth it."
Harry would have to believe her on that. Even with 'Mione, studying had never been something he was good at, much less fond of.
Then again, without Ron's distracting presence, and with Greengrass' — she was serious as Lacerta — maybe it wouldn't be so bad.
"Oh, and Harry?" Lacerta drew his attention as Daphne and Tracey each set about sorting various books in an order he didn't yet know. "We're going to Hogsmeade this coming weekend. With the dozens of new shops and restaurants, we'll have much to do, and many to make jealous."
Tracey coughed at that. "I don't s'pose a girl can get chocolates for all her help?"
Harry grinned. It wasn't like he couldn't afford that, and he'd planned on getting the lot of them something for their help anyhow.
"Tracey, you can't a—"
He interrupted Daphne's chastising. "Reckon a few boxes each for you." Then he spoke lower, for only Lacerta's ears. "And something else for you... dunno if they do jewellery there or..."
Lacerta's hand squeezed his arm, and her eyes seemed bright.
"They have one such place I know of." Her voice was soft, and her smile warm.
"That'd be perfect, then."
Lacerta leaned into him, and pressed a kiss to his cheek.
"It would."
Lacerta tapped her long, painted nails atop the table they were seated at. "Professor Moody offered aid by way of suggesting a summoning charm?"
"Well, not specifically," Harry admitted. "He just... dropped enough hints for me to get the message, yeah? Reckon that broom idea of mine isn't bad. Could summon it to the arena to out-fly the, uh, dragon."
At the mention of what he was meant to face, news they'd only received some week or so ago, she frowned. It wasn't remotely fair for Harry to be expected to do so, especially without training that most any other Magical meant for the tournament, would have.
But then, it wasn't the first time the Tournament had been unfair, from what Mother and Father had told her.
She shifted closer to him. "If you're going to do this, we need to get you the best broom available."
"Luciu—"
"That was months ago," Lacerta waved her hand. "It's likely a new prototype is already made. Father will have it sent for you."
Harry couldn't fight the smile on his face. "I really shouldn't accept so much, Lacerta."
"Yes you should."
"It's a lot."
"And?" Lacerta lifted her nose at him. "You'll accept all that I can give, affection or otherwise." That tone was imperious, and yet, adorable.
Harry let out the smallest of snickers. "Fine fine, but how do you plan on your dad getting it here in time?"
Lacerta blinked at him, haughty as ever, and then called out the name of what had to be a house-elf. When one of the creatures appeared, and in clothes far better than those which Dobby had worn, she gave an order. "Have Father acquire the best broom he can by nightfall. Tell him Harry's life depends on his doing so, and I shan't forgive him if he fails."
The little elf gave a hasty nod and popped away, and then, Lacerta gave a big, winning, smile. "See? It's easy to get things done when you've the money and the name." She kissed his cheek. "I expect you to use yours for a date someplace fancy one of these days."
"Oh?" Harry snickered as he received another kiss on his cheek.
Lacerta gave one, confident nod. "You've never disappointed me before, and once this is over, I think a day in France or elsewhere sounds lovely."
Lacerta looked over her shoulder as Daphne and Tracey fussed over her hair — she'd enlisted their aid in this Hogsmeade trip with Harry, one that'd be but the two of them. No Granger, certainly no Ronald, and not one of her friends. In return, all they desired were a few sweets from the shop, La Fudgerie, that'd come with the French contingent. It seemed a thing of legend, and Lacerta was more than happy to grant them a treat in return for their assistance in dress and style alike.
Each had a knowledge as vast as her own, if not greater, and so the three of them combined should be able to make Harry's jaw drop.
At least, that was the goal.
She already knew he found her more than fetching, but she wanted to strike him wordless, or enthrall him as a Veela might... she certainly wasn't nervous with them around. No, definitely not.
"And?" She turned her head, and a moment later, her hair was moved again, Tracey having a vision and Daphne following suit.
"Perfect," Daphne spoke with a firm nod. "A few final charms and we'll have you set — you'll have to tell me what he thinks of your hair. Braids suit you."
"Mm, I'm glad." Her eyes went to Tracey then. "And yourself? Does my hair meet your approval?"
Tracey nodded, her lips pulling into a giddy smile. "It's amazing. It makes me wish I could spy on you to see his reaction. Mum and dad never get me the invisibility cloak I ask for every year."
Lacerta snickered, and Daphne rolled her eyes. "For good reason." Her the latter girl's attention went back to Lacerta. "Shall we escort you?"
That question brought a furrowing of her brow, and so her mind automatically saw a problem. "Who's proving problematic this time?"
"Blaise."
"Blaise?" Lacerta narrowed her eyes. He'd always been rather neutral before, if slightly friendly... so why was he bothering them now?
"Yes," Daphne's hands settled on her hips, and the annoyance she felt was plain on her face. "Apparently his mother's to be married soon. Maybe that's what's causing him to be a bother. We're not sure."
"Mother did say that was a common occurrence." Lacerta hummed as her chin rested on her palm, a finger tapping the table beneath her. "Escort me to the courtyard, then, if you would. I'll write Father when I'm home later and have this matter settled."
Tracey rolled her eyes. "You Purebloods and your politics. Spoils way too much, if y'ask me — now come on, we've got this settled. We need to get 'Certa over to Harry and find a spot, Daph. We can see his initial reaction that way."
"Fine, fine." Daphne waved her hand and, looked over at Lacerta. "You won't begrudge her that, will you? She'd never stop talking about it if we didn't."
"I'll not begrudge you anyth—"
"Great!" Tracey grabbed her and Daphne's hands. "We've a date to make."
"Trace—"
"Don't pul—"
Tracey hushed her and Greengrass alike, and dragged them off, to the common room, and then next, through the halls that'd see them to Harry.
Lacerta brought a hand up to pull at the collar of her shirt; now that she was so near to seeing Harry, there was a flicker of nervousness. Obviously, she knew she looked as beautiful as was possible of any person, but there was no denying that a sliver of uncertainty had wormed its way in all the same.
As if Harry could have the thought — absurd as it was — that he'd find her displeasing.
She let out a huff.
Insecurity was most unbecoming for the future Lady Malfoy, and she refused to succumb to it.
So, she raised her nose and straightened her spine, and walked into the courtyard, a last lingering look sent her companions' way to give silent thanks for all the help they'd given.
Lacerta had barely turned her head back before she crashed into somebody. Her eyes shot up, outraged, ready to lash out at whoever'd had the nerve to be so careless as to nearly send her toppling, when she realized it was Harry.
His eyes were wide and his mouth slightly ajar.
"Oh." Lacerta puffed out the singular strand of hair that'd dared fall in her face, and then, she sulked. "I was meant to surprise you."
Harry's mouth shut, and then a smile broke across his face, one of the most dazzling she'd seen. "Me— you... good." His brows furrowed. "Sorry, I mean, you're pretty. Beautiful, really."
That got rid of the pout on her face.
Lacerta smiled, and leaned closer to him, their noses mere inches apart. "How beautiful? Is it 'enchanting', perhaps, or 'mesmerizing'? Maybe even 'stunning' or 'gorgeous'?"
Harry snickered.
"Or maybe, and I hope, it's all of them."
"Yeah, that." Harry nodded a good few times to make sure his point was made, and then, he held out an arm for her in that manner she'd taught him. "Hogsmeade?"
Lacerta looped her own around his. "Hogsmeade."
Then, the pair were up and in a carriage, and off to the 'small' village.
"So," Harry said, clearing his throat as he looked at her from the opposite seat. It was clear based on how his eyes kept going to her hair, her lips — painted as they were — Morgana, even her cheeks which had a faint blush, that he found it hard to focus on anything but her. "Your hair... looks nice."
Lacerta fought back a smile.
"Do you think so?"
"Y-yeah."
"I hadn't thought a braid was a style that'd work well for me, but Daphne was very convinced." Lacerta threw the strand of braided hair over her shoulder, and gave him a look from beneath her lashes. "Is that something you like?"
Harry nodded.
"Good," Lacerta leaned back in her seat, her fingers tracing circles over her knee. "Because I'd do it again if it pleased you. It's not too bothersome."
Well, that wasn't exactly true. It was certainly far more work than letting her hair naturally flow down her back as she liked; straight and naturally beautiful, it was her favorite part of herself.
But if Harry liked it... and since she herself didn't find it ugly, than maybe she'd use it beyond the occasional Hogsmeade trip.
"And, uh, your lips, um..." Harry was at a loss, and she could see it.
She didn't mind.
"My lips?" She brought a finger to them. "Is it the colour? Daphne and Tracey disagreed on it."
Pink was already very near the natural shade of her lips, so the addition was a minor one, and it did give them a shine.
"I like it. I like you."
"Harry Potter, you're quite the charmer," Lacerta teased, leaning over and kissing his cheek.
That earned that goofy Gryffindor smile she'd come to love so much, and his hand took her own, their fingers entwining.
"I try."
Lacerta snickered, and then, leaned against him. "So, tell me, what do you have planned for us today? Or is it a surprise?"
"Bit of both," Harry admitted, giving her hand a squeeze. "We've a couple places I think you'll like. The first being La Fudgerie, like you asked. Figured we'd go to the bookstore too. Pick up a few tomes since there's supposedly spells in French and the like too."
"And do you speak French?" Lacerta didn't believe that answer was affirmative, so when Harry shook his head, her guess was confirmed. "I could tutor you, if you'd like."
Harry blinked at her. "You speak French?"
Lacerta nodded, her smile smug. "My father's family has no small amount of French roots. We still have distant cousins near Bordeaux."
"Bloody hell, I've a lot to learn," Harry prodded her then. "You need to give me time to catch up."
That earned a scoff. "I lack in Charms or Defense. It's only fair I take potions and language proficiencies from you."
"I s'pose." Harry sighed, but didn't seem truly upset by her statement. "Fancy opening a window? See the forest and village as it goes by?
"Not at all." Lacerta 'slid' from her seat, to where he was, and 'accidentally' snuggled closer; if he tried to move, she'd hex him. "Warm me. I don't care for heating charms."
Harry chuckled.
"Alright, alright." He wrapped his arms around her, and together, they sat, enjoying the closeness.
It wasn't very long before the carriage stopped.
Hogsmeade was absolutely bustling with a myriad of activity, and the air was thick with the smell of fresh, hot sweets and the sound of the many students enjoying a free day; Hogwarts, Beauxbatons or Durmstrang, all enjoyed the time spent in a village sans the typical dress code or schedule their respective 'homes' had.
"Someplace fancy?" Harry asked, holding out an arm for her.
"You're getting better at that." Lacerta took his arm, but after doing so, she shook her head. "We could go to the place you frequent — the Three Broomsticks. I'd enjoy a butterbeer with you near a warm fire."
"Not too lowly for the Princess?"
Lacerta rolled her eyes. "Hardly. I'm not that picky. Well, not usually. You can't blame a witch on occasion if she desires the pinnacle of what society has to offer, can you?"
Harry laughed. "Nah, suppose not."
"But yes, Three Broomsticks would suffice for a date... even if I said I expected the best." Lacerta gave his arm a tug. The cold was getting to her, but still, she persisted in not wanting the false heat a charm would offer. She'd much rather steal one of Harry's layers of clothing, or just have him keep her close as could be — and as was proper.
"Alright, alright." He led her into the Three Broomsticks not more than a minute later, and they found a small table towards the back, away from a table of his housemates; there was still a lingering drama he desired not to speak about.
Lacerta's lips formed a thin line when she noticed his hesitancy, fleeting as it was.
If they were proving that bothersome for Harry, she'd get involved. No juvenile games would be played, nor 'pranks' that Hufflepuffs and Gryffindors alike were fond of, no, she'd bring this to a swift end. Father would shield her if she was a touch too merciless, but she liked to think she'd toned it down on account of Harry's influence.
"You know, never thought I'd be in here with you, sharing a butter beer while Ron's the one sending me dirty looks." Harry leaned against the table and propped his head up with a hand. "Feels. Hard to say, I guess. Weird? Strange, maybe. Never thought we'd get here, is what I mean."
"Oh?" Lacerta sipped her butter beer.
"Yeah, never did, actually. Thought we'd keep on fighting until... dunno, something happened. Or we graduated and went our separate ways. But this is better, right?"
"Far better." Lacerta noticed how he shifted closer upon her agreement, and her lips pulled into a smirk. "You're very handsome when you smile, Harry. Especially when I'm the cause."
That got the reaction she wanted.
Harry coughed and blushed, and his mouth opened and shut as he attempted to formulate some sort of response, but, none came.
Lacerta, however, continued, her lips brushing his ear as she did. "You know, if you wanted to kiss me, I'd not say no." Morgana, Father would be cross if he saw her... but Mother, she'd be happy; she was getting what she desired.
Harry. Her Harry.
Now, all she had to do was see his knowledge of their world grow in tandem with his spell list. He had the potential to be an incredibly powerful wizard, and, if they married.
No, no those thoughts were much too far off; their Post-Hogwarts wedding couldn't happen for another few years.