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No one believed him. No one ever believed him.
‘Are you accusing my son, boy?’ That was screamed at him when he told his uncle that it wasn’t him that broke the couch, that it was Dudley. He hadn’t lied, it was Dudley, but his uncle refused to believe him.
‘Harry, it’s not nice to make up stories about others.’ That was told to him when he tried to tell a teacher that the Dursleys were abusive. He didn’t know how to articulate it back then very well, but still, he was brushed aside.
‘We’ve looked into it and found nothing concerning.’ That was said with derision when he complained enough that a social worker was finally sent to the Dursleys. How they could look him in the eyes and tell him to not lie when he told them that his room was the cupboard under the stairs. It didn’t matter that his pillow and blanket were in there, it didn’t matter that the broken toys he was allowed to have were scattered on the ground. They assumed he was lying.
It didn’t matter what happened, no one ever believed him.
Harry hoped that it would change in Hogwarts, that he’d finally make some friends, have competent teachers and not feel like a social pariah.
Except, no one believed him.
‘Are you really?’ Typical response when people found out who he was. He didn’t want the extra attention, especially since it hadn’t been earned, but it was frustrating to prove over and over that he was indeed Harry Potter. They wanted to see the scar as proof, and he wanted to tell them to go fuck themselves but never did.
‘He’s strange but he seems alright.’ That was said to him after he expressed his concern over Professor Quirrell. His scar twitched sometimes when they locked eyes and it always brought forward a headache. Madam Pomfrey refused to see him anymore because she said he wasn’t actually in pain and that, ‘You can’t get out of your classes by coming here.’
‘How another professor teaches their student is no concern of mine, and you’d do well to remember that talking negatively about others reflects back on you.’ That had been told to him when he expressed his concern over Snape’s treatment of him. It wasn’t fair that he was targeted on a daily basis when he hadn’t done anything to deserve such treatment.
‘I don’t know how you found out about the stone, but it can’t possibly be stolen.’ That was said when he told McGonagall that someone was going to steal the Sorcerer’s Stone. It didn’t matter what he said or how he said it, he was brushed aside like always.
Harry was sick and tired of not being believed. He was sick and tired of being brushed aside. He was sick and fucking tired of being treated like a liar. He didn’t understand it, couldn’t figure out why everyone around him listened to him but didn’t hear him. It was like it went in one ear and out the other and chose to believe whatever they assumed he was saying and not what he was actually saying.
He was so fed up with it, that he marched his way into McGonagall’s office on the last day of the school year and glared.
“Mister Potter, what can I do for you?”
“I would like an apology.”
McGonagall looked over the top of the book she had been reading to arch a brow. “An apology?”
“I told you that someone was going to steal the stone, and you brushed me aside. I was right, you were wrong. I told you that Snape was treating me unfairly and instead of looking into it as a proper head of house would, you implied that I was lying. A good professor doesn’t just listen to their students, they hear them, and you aren’t hearing me.”
McGonagall’s head jerked back as she stared at him. “The circumstances—”
“I wish I was never sorted into Gryffindor. I wish I had a head of house that actually cared about their students. I wish that you weren’t a disappointment, but I never get what I wish, do I?”
With that he had stormed out of there to the sound of her spluttering, but he didn’t care. Harry had said his peace, but he knew it wouldn’t do anything. No one was going to change. They were still going to brush him aside; they were still going to not believe him.
Second year was no better.
Uncle Vernon hadn’t believed him when Harry told him that it hadn’t been him who had dropped the pudding, that it had been a House Elf. He was punished for it regardless. That was to be expected, and he knew the moment it had happened that no one was going to believe him, the fact that the Ministry of Magic sent him a warning letter for Magic, despite the fact that it hadn’t been him who had performed it let him know that the Ministry wasn’t ran very well.
When McGonagall didn’t believe them that the barrier that led to the train had been solid, he wasn’t even surprised. He had given up on her a long time ago and held very little respect for her. The fact that they hadn’t given it much thought and had just waited for someone to realize they were missing or to send an owl for help had burned, and that was the only valid thing she had said.
When the writing on the wall appeared and Harry told them that it hadn’t been him or his friends, no one believed him. The teachers eyed him suspiciously, the students looked at him in fear. When Filch demanded punishment for the attack on Mrs Norris, he wasn’t believed that it hadn’t been him.
When his friends demanded to know why he never told him he was a Parselmouth and he told them that he hadn’t known, he could tell they didn’t believe him. Oh, he had known he could talk to snakes, just assumed that a lot of people could. How was he supposed to know every little thing about the Wizarding World when it was only his second year of even knowing he was a Wizard?
Harry had tried to tell Justin Finch-Fletchly that it might have looked like he had been egging the snake on in an attempt to attack, but in reality he had been telling the snake to leave him, but no one believed him.
When he had been found near Justin and Nearly Headless Nick by McGonagall, he didn’t even bother telling her a damn thing, she didn’t believe believed him otherwise she wouldn’t have sent him to Dumbledore. Harry was approaching his limit. It didn’t matter if it was the Muggle world or the Wizarding world, no one fucking believed him.
Slytherin’s Heir.
The entire school believed him to be Slytherin’s Heir, the one responsible for everything, and as annoying and frustrating as it was, he didn’t bother changing anyone’s mind because nothing he said was going to fix anything. It’s not as if he’d be believed anyway.
It wasn’t until he was sitting in the Slytherin common room Polyjuiced to look like Goyle that he realized that someone did believe him.
“I told you; Potter isn’t Slytherin’s Heir. You can tell by his face every time someone calls him that.”
Harry frowned. If Malfoy of all people could tell that he wasn’t lying, then why didn’t anyone else? What was it about him that made everyone around him think he was lying? Sometimes, he could tell that Ron and Hermione didn’t believe him about certain things, but they never said it. He could live in ignorance as long as they didn’t say anything. He wasn’t sure his heart could take the break if they stopped believing him too.
When Harry faced off against the Tom Riddle in the diary and was asked what made him special, he wasn’t believed when he said that he didn’t know. He didn’t know anymore that Riddle did why Voldemort went after him. People didn’t believe him when he talked, so why would they share their information with him? No one looked at Harry and saw him for who he was.
It wasn’t until he passed Malfoy on the train at the end of the year that he realized with a sinking stomach that Malfoy was the only one who believed him.
What a horrible thought.
Third year wasn’t as bad as second year. It didn’t start too good, but at least it was entertaining.
For once, Harry didn’t blame his uncle for not believing him. It was true, he hadn’t meant to blow up Aunt Marge, but he wasn’t sorry for it either. He’d do it again too, on purpose if he could. It was a shame that her memories were taken from her. It was obvious that Fudge didn’t believe him, but he wasn’t punished for it. Strangely enough, he was treated kinder than he expected from the Minister of Magic.
When it came to his friends and the Weasley family, he could tell that they didn’t fully believe him. Hermione mentioned that sometimes he had anger issues, Ron said he wished he could do the same to his own aunt, but their tone was what sold him on it. They thought he meant to, or at least wanted it to happen in some capacity.
It had been a relatively quiet year for Harry, and he had been afraid to admit it in case he jinxed it all to hell. There were moments when he’d say something and no one believed him, could see it in the hesitant way they smiled or nodded at him. Teachers didn’t want to hear why he was late because the reason had to be a lie, they didn’t care what his explanation for a spell gone wrong was because they weren’t going to believe him anyway.
Then came Sirius.
Snape didn’t believe him when he tried to explain what had happened, the Minister who had once been friendly brushed him aside when he swore that they had seen Pettigrew with their own eyes, tried to explain that even on the map it showed that Pettigrew was alive, but no one wanted to hear him. No one wanted to believe him.
As usual.
Sirius escaped, but it wasn’t as a free man. Pettigrew escaped and the injustice of it all angered Harry. There had to be something they could do, but when he approached Dumbledore he was told that it was out of his hands, and Harry wasn’t so sure he believed him.
Fourth year was a fucking joke.
It hadn’t started off bad, it was probably one of the better years that he had to date. It was getting easier and easier to ignore when he wasn’t believed, he started to realize that his life was going to be filled with constant disappointment of those around him. He knew eventually something was going to have to change, and he wasn’t too sure he was ready for it.
Then the TriWizard tournament happened.
He had made it known to several people, especially his friends, that he was glad that only seventeen-year-old students could participate. It sounded dangerous and they didn’t know a fraction of the spells that would be required to survive it. So why no one fucking believed him when his name popped out and he swore on everything he had that he didn’t put it in.
No one believed him.
Disappointment followed him wherever he went. Teachers treated him differently, as if he had asked for his name to be put in there. He hadn’t. Someone else did, obviously it was someone else. Because how in the world could a fourth year get past Dumbledore’s spells? For that matter how had anyone managed to get past Dumbledore’s spells?
The disappointment he faced was nothing compared to the disappointment he felt himself when faced with Ron.
‘Why would I want to be in the tournament?’ Harry had yelled when Ron accused him of not telling him about his plans to enter. ‘I don’t want this!’
His words meant nothing. His actions meant nothing. Nothing he said got through to Ron, and Harry wasn’t sure that anything would. ‘You’re supposed to be my best friend, and you don’t believe me.’
Heartbreak.
He had known that Ron and Hermione didn’t believe him at times. But it was usually over silly things that didn’t matter. Hermione tended to believe that he didn’t study when he did, she assumed he was goofing off with Ron or not trying. Ron tended to believe that Harry sought out attention when it was obvious that he didn’t. Those he could overlook.
But this?
This changed everything. Harry couldn’t overlook it anymore, refused to.
‘He’s jealous, can’t you see?’ It was said to him as if he should care. Hermione acted as if it was a normal fight, that they’d mend it and everything would go back to normal, but he couldn’t do that.
“I didn’t do anything wrong, Hermione,” Harry had said, eyes on the ground as he felt his heart breaking again. “You act as if Ron and I are both in the wrong. My name was forced into this tournament, and my best friend thinks I’m a liar. While you sit here and preach to me about understanding. How about you find your Gryffindor courage and pick a fucking side.”
She couldn’t. Hermione always played mediator, thought that she could keep them both as long as she didn’t pick a side.
“Let me make it simple for you,” Harry had whispered as he turned in the other direction. “You can keep him; I don’t want either of you.”
“Harry, you can’t mean that.”
He knew if he turned around it would be to see her tears, but he was tired of being the only one who cared.
“I wouldn’t treat either of you the way you both have treated me. I’m sick of the way I say things and you don’t believe me. Even if you’re right and Ron is jealous, so what? How is it my responsibility to make him feel better when it’s his jealousy that is the problem? It sounds like he has some growing up to do, and so do you. No friend would stay in the middle like this, not when it’s obvious that I didn’t do anything wrong. You don’t want to make a decision, fine, I made it for you. Goodbye Hermione.”
It had been one of the hardest choices he had made, but he refused to regret it. He was done with not being believed, done with no one wanting to hear him. If his friends wouldn’t try, then neither would he.
Heartbreak struck again when Sirius’ head popped into the common room and the first thing out of his mouth was, ‘Did you put your name in the goblet?’ Harry had looked at him, truly looked at him and realized exactly what would happen if he answered him. Instead, he moved closer to the fire and poked the logs until the Floo ended. He returned to the dorm with a heavy heart and a numbness that he wasn’t sure would ever go away.
Without any distractions from Ron, or the nagging from Hermione, Harry found that he didn’t mind being alone as much as he thought he would. With not much to do, he also found that he didn’t mind his homework either. Harry read a lot more, studied frequently and did his homework the day it was assigned. His grades had never looked better.
He was lonely, but he was used to that, had spent the first eleven years of his life lonely. He would move on, eventually. All things pass, this too would pass.
“Where’s your bodyguards, Potter?”
Harry blinked a few times as a shadow blocked the sunlight, casting his book in shadows. He looked up from the tree he had been leaning against to see Malfoy standing in front of him, arms crossed.
“What?”
Malfoy rolled his eyes. “Granger and Weasley.”
Oh. That.
Harry looked back at his book. “Not that it’s any of your business, but we’re taking an extended break from each other.”
A pause before Malfoy crouched in front of him, placing a hand on his book and lowering it.
“Don’t tell me they think you entered the tournament.”
Eyes snapping up, Harry stared into narrowed silver eyes. “Are you saying you don’t think I did it?”
A harsh snort as Malfoy shook his head, a smirk curling his lips. “As if you have the brains to achieve something like that.”
Partially insulted and partially elated, Harry sat up straighter, pulling his book out from underneath Malfoy’s hand.
“I didn’t enter.”
Malfoy regarded him, head tilted. “I know that.”
Licking his lips, Harry whispered, “Why? Everyone else thinks I’m a liar.”
“I’m not everyone else.”
“You certainly aren’t.”
That was how it started. A strange conversation that didn’t say as much as he thought it did at the time, but the biggest take away had been that he was heard. Malfoy believed him. Malfoy had not only listened to him but heard what he was saying and believed it.
Harry could have chalked it up to one off, a happenstance where Malfoy wasn’t a total knob, but it wouldn’t leave his mind. He had to know if it went further. He just had to. Which unfortunately led him to a lot of embarrassing situations as Malfoy grew more and more baffled as time went by.
“Did you know that the Muggles I live with are cruel?”
Malfoy blinked twice before he looked around them, as if Harry could’ve been talking to someone else. Bewildered, Malfoy said, “I did not know that, but knowing Muggles it doesn’t surprise me.”
Part of Harry wanted to tell him that Malfoy didn’t know Muggles and that the majority of them were nothing like the Dursleys, but his mind had come to a screeching halt at the fact that he was believed.
“Did you know that first year Voldemort was partially using Quirrell’s body, and his head was on the back of Quirrell’s?”
Parted mouth and wide eyes, Malfoy slowly shook his head. “There were weird rumors, but that wasn’t what I had assumed at all.”
A little breathless, Harry licked his lips. “Did you know that Nicholas Flamel gave the Sorcerer’s Stone to Dumbledore to protect and that is what Voldemort and Quirrell were after?”
Malfoy put a hand on the tree Harry had cornered him by as he braced himself against it. “Why would Dumbledore put something so dangerous in a school full of children?”
That was a fair question, one he didn’t have the answers to, but right now that didn’t matter, now when he was going through a crisis. His hands were shaky, and his heart was beating so fast he was worried there was something wrong.
“Did you know that Snape unfairly punishes me, treats me cruelly and breaks code of conduct in his lessons with the mistreatment of me?”
Malfoy snorted, waving away Harry’s glare. “Sorry, but that’s obvious. He’s been doing that since our first day here. I’ve heard from my father that’s it’s because of animosity between him and your father.”
Harry paused, wondering what else Malfoy had heard. The snide comments made about his father were telling, but Snape never said why he disliked his father, and at this point did it even matter? Harry hadn’t even known his father, never got to say a word to him, so how come he had to be punished for whatever his father had done? Couldn’t Snape just find his father’s grave and tell him his grievances there and leave Harry alone?
“Did you know that during our second year your House Elf came to my home and tried to get me to not go to Hogwarts? He stole my mail, used Magic in front of my Muggle relatives, and stopped me from getting through the barrier on platform 9 and three quarters?”
Malfoy let out a strangled wheeze as he slid down the tree and sat on the ground, knees rising to his chest.
“Merlin, I knew Dobby was barmy and obsessed with you but…”
Harry mirrored Malfoy’s position on the ground as Malfoy’s eyes were on his knees.
“Did you know that when I spoke to the snake you conjured during our duel, it wasn’t to tell it to harm Finch-Fletchly?”
“Obviously,” Malfoy sneered, eyes narrowed as he looked at Harry as if he was stupid. “Righteous Potter isn’t about to attack someone. Just as I knew you weren’t Slytherin’s heir either.”
Harry felt dizzy. He had to rest his head on his knees as he looked at Malfoy through his lashes.
“What’s with the over-sharing?” Malfoy asked, brows furrowed. “We don’t talk outside of insults and jabs.”
They didn’t, did they?
“Maybe we should start.”
Malfoy’s brows furrowed further, and he’d have laughed if knew he wouldn’t be hexed for it.
“Potter.”
Just his name. It was said resigned and full of confusion, and he was tempted to laugh again.
“No one believes me,” Harry whispered as his fingers began to draw mindless shapes in the dirt. “It doesn’t matter what I say, or who I say it to, no one ever believes what I’m saying.”
“What do you mean?” Malfoy asked, head rising. “All that stuff you told me, no one believed you?”
Harry shook his head. “It’s not just big stuff either. You could push me down the hill and Madam Pomfrey is going to tell me to that it’s okay to admit that I simply tripped. I could oversleep and miss Transfiguration and McGonagall is going to tell me that I purposefully didn’t show. It doesn’t matter what I say, no one ever believes me.”
“What about your friends?”
Harry shrugged. “It’s not as severe as all that, but I can tell. They don’t believe me a lot of the time either, they just don’t say it.”
“Until now.”
“Until now,” Harry agreed with a frown. “Ron thinks I put my name in because I want fame and glory.”
“You already have that.”
“I don’t want it. I don’t want to be famous. I don’t want to be noticed. I don’t want the attention. I don’t want any of it.”
Malfoy’s head tilted and his eyes narrowed before they widened. “You mean that, you truly mean that.”
A strange sensation bubbled inside of him at Malfoy’s easy acceptance. He wasn’t used to that, didn’t know what to do with it.
“What about Granger? She doesn’t strike me as the type to fall for that.”
“I’m not sure what she thinks,” Harry admitted, frowning again. Hermione had never outright said that she believed him, but she also didn’t call him a liar either. “But she wouldn’t pick a side.”
“Did you need her to?”
“Yes,” Harry whispered. “Maybe I’m being childish, but she acted like we were both wrong. That I had somehow insulted Ron or had somehow done something I shouldn’t have. She wouldn’t stand up for me, and that hurt. I don’t understand how she could hear the shit Ron said about me and still want to be in the middle. I never asked for this, I never put my name in the goblet and yet I have one friend that thinks I’m a liar and one too afraid to stick by me—truly stick by me.”
He could understand why Hermione would want to remain friends with both of them. If she had sided with Harry then Ron would’ve avoided her too, but Ron was the one who was wrong. She had to know that. Unless, there was some part of her that thought Ron was right. Maybe Hermione believed that Harry was lying too. Either way, he couldn’t stomach it. Friends don’t do that to each other. They just don’t.
“I don’t think it’s childish,” Malfoy said, a strange look on his face. “But I don’t really have friends to compare.”
“What about Crabbe and Goyle?”
Malfoy winced. “They follow me around because my father is friends with their father.”
“Actual friends?” Harry had a hard time seeing Lucius be nice enough to someone to warrant being a friend.
“Yes.” A slow blink. “But Greg and Vince are best friends. We talk a lot, but I’m their third wheel.”
“Do you want to be more included in their friendship?”
It was a strange conversation, and Harry was afraid that if he paused long enough that they’d both realize that and go back to sneers and insults. He wasn’t sure if it was because he was lonely, but he didn’t want to go back to that.
“Maybe,” Malfoy bit his lip. “They know each other in ways that I don’t get to see. Hard to feel included when I know I’ll never be to them what they already are to each other.”
Harry could kind of understand that. It wasn’t the same with Ron and Hermione, so it was hard to truly comprehend.
“What about Pansy?”
Malfoy’s face twisted and they both laughed. “Pansy is… well… I just… I don’t like her.”
Harry laughed and laughed until his side hurt. “She likes you though.”
A dramatic sigh. “I know, and my opinion of her might change if she left me alone. She’s not horrible to talk to, but I would only want to be her friend.”
“That might deter her from wanting to be your friend,” Harry mused. “If she wants more than that, and you tell her no, then she’ll either accept it or go away.”
A contemplative look crossed Malfoy’s face. “I could try that.”
An easy silence settled around them as they traded hesitant looks. He wasn’t sure what to make of the entire conversation. He really didn’t want to return to how things were. He didn’t mind talking to Malfoy, and he wondered what would have happened if they had a similar conversation years ago.
“I want you to tell me something that’s a lie and I also want to hear something that’s a truth too.”
Harry squinted at him. “Huh?”
Malfoy tossed a handful of grass at him. “Keep up, Potter. You said no one ever believes you. Well, I want to test that. I want to see if I can spot the lie.”
Curious, Harry hummed as he tried to think of what to say. He had to pick things that Malfoy wouldn’t know either way.
“Defense Against the Dark Arts is my favorite subject and I miss the Muggle world.”
Malfoy didn’t even hesitate.
“The truth is that you miss the Muggle world.”
Harry huffed. “How do you know?”
“I don’t know why you miss it, but I know it’s the truth because when you lie you wrinkle your nose.”
Harry frowned. “I do not.”
“Yes you do. You just did it again.”
His frown deepened. Was that true? Did he wrinkle his nose? “I could always lie and force myself not to.”
“Then do it.”
Harry huffed again. “Snape is my favorite teacher.”
Malfoy threw more grass at him before slapping Harry’s knee. “Make it a believable lie.”
“I dislike McGonagall.”
Malfoy’s head turned to the side, not quite a tilt as he narrowed his eyes. “I told you to lie to me, not tell me the truth.”
Harry sucked in a sharp breath as he stared at Malfoy in wonder. “How can you tell?”
“I’m not sure,” Malfoy licked his lips as he began to pull more and more grass out. “I just can. It’s like you give off a certain vibe.”
Vibe?
“It’s strange,” Malfoy continued with a frown. “I think that something else is going on.”
“What do you mean?”
“I don’t know,” Malfoy whispered, eyes roaming Harry’s face. “But we’re going to find out.”
“We?”
“Yes, Potter,” Malfoy said, standing up and brushing himself off before he held out a hand. “We.”
Harry blinked at the offered hand before he grabbed hold of it and let Malfoy pull him up. He wasn’t sure what he was getting himself into, but he was kind of looking forward to it.
Go figure.
Harry was standing in the hallway waiting for Snape to open the door so Potions could start and was for once okay with the wait. It gave him time to read his owl ordered book from Flourish and Blotts on Remedial Potions. If Snape wasn’t going to be a good teacher then he was going to teach himself. The book helped a lot, explained the basics in a way that clicked and so many things that frustrated him about potions began to make sense.
The background chatter and noise from the other students died down to an echoing silence and that had him looking up, expecting to see Snape ushering them in, but startled at how close Malfoy was to his face.
“Potter.”
“Malfoy.”
Malfoy glanced down at his book and instead of being smug or amused at his choice of reading material, there was a small nod like he approved of it.
“If you are wanting recommendations I think you should look into, ‘Untangling the Nightmare of Potions’ by Inky Vanderbilt.”
Harry pulled out a quill and quickly wrote that down on the inside cover of the book instead of digging through his bag for a spare bit of parchment.
“Thank you,” Harry mumbled as he closed his book. “I have a feeling you came to me for more than book recommendations.”
There was a sparkle to Malfoy’s eyes that had him wary. “You’re right. I wanted to know if you’d like to be my partner for the day.”
Harry usually ended up with Neville, which wasn’t a fun experience.
“Okay,” Harry agreed, still a bit wary. He wasn’t entirely sure what Malfoy had planned, but he was willing to see it out.
When Snape let them in, he did a double take at seeing them partner together, and that alone was worth whatever Malfoy had planned.
“Tell me something, anything, and I’ll see if it’s true or not,” Malfoy said, quietly because the whole class was quieter than normal, as if they expected the two of them to start brawling any minute.
“I dislike sweets.”
“Lie.”
“I like waking up early.”
“Lie.”
“I enjoy Care of Magical Creatures.”
Malfoy placed the knife he had been using to cut the Mandrake roots down on the cutting board as he laughed. The sound was bright, and Harry was ashamed that he kind of liked it. He had never heard Malfoy laugh before. The whole thing confused him.
And he didn’t like it.
“You need to come up with more creative lies, Potter.”
Harry took over the cutting as Malfoy pulled out a scale to weigh the Eye of Newt they were supposed to add next.
“I don’t know how to swim.”
“Truth.”
Harry pursed his lips, a little annoyed at how good Malfoy was at this.
“I have a godfather.”
“Also true.”
“I like pumpkin juice.”
“Lie.”
“It’s just so gross,” Harry shuddered, stirring the potion counterclockwise twice before Malfoy added powdered moonstone and then he stirred it five times clockwise. “It tastes like mushed pumpkin that’s moldy and sat out for a year.”
“Lovely image,” Malfoy drawled, lips twitching. “I’m not too big of a fan myself. Would rather have water.”
The potion bubbled as it was supposed to, and Harry was relieved that he hadn’t messed up at all. The remedial potion books were helping a lot, and he wished he had looked into them sooner.
When Snape did a walkthrough of the class, inspecting the nearly finished potions, Harry held his breath as their turn approached.
“Relax,” Malfoy whispered as Snape tore into Crabbe and Goyle’s potion that was a dark green shade when it was supposed to be a pretty lilac. “We did good.”
They did do good, and he was pretty proud of it.
Snape narrowed his eyes at their potion before he looked between the two of them.
“I suppose you let Malfoy do all of the work then?”
“No,” Harry scoffed, quickly adding a, “sir,” when Snape’s eyes narrowed further. “I did just as much of the potion as he did.”
“After three unfortunate years of teaching you, I am aware of your capabilities. Ten points from Gryffindor for lying to me. You’d do well to remember—”
“He’s not lying, sir,” Malfoy said, and Harry’s eyes widened at the gall of interrupting Snape at all.
Snape looked between them again, an unpleasant look on his face before he moved on to the table behind them.
Harry frowned at the table, angry tears in his eyes as he clenched his fists. “At least he didn’t dock our scores.”
Worst silver lining ever.
When Malfoy didn’t say anything, he looked up to see Malfoy looking at him with a strange look on his face.
“How do you do it?” Malfoy asked, voice soft in a way that Harry had never heard before. “How do you put up with no one believing you?”
Harry’s shoulders slumped. “There’s no other option, is there? I put up with it because I have to.”
It sucked and he was bitter about it, but he didn’t know what else to do except accept it.
Malfoy’s lips pursed before he turned back to their potions. “I’m going to figure out what’s going on.”
Harry hesitated for just a moment before he said, “We’re going to figure out what’s going on.”
There was a minuscule smile on Malfoy’s face and Harry hated that he liked it, hated that he wanted to see it grow into a full smile. Wondered what that looked like on him.
Merlin, what was wrong with him?
Dragons. Dragons. Dragons.
Dragons.
Harry walked through the halls in a daze as he tried to figure out what to do. Dragons. What the fuck was wrong with the Ministry? Whoever invented the TriWizard tournament was a joke and he wished they were alive so he could kill them himself.
“What’s with you?” Malfoy asked when Harry sat down next to him in History of Magic. Class hadn’t started yet, and there was only a few people, but they were being watched. That seemed to be the status quo no matter what class they were in or even in the hallways when they walked together. No one had confronted him about it, but he knew it was a matter of time.
Harry bit his lip before he leaned forward and whispered, “The first task is Dragons.”
Malfoy gasped, leaning away to look at him with wide eyes. “Blimey, they aren’t playing around.”
Harry groaned, slumping in his chair as more students filed in. Ron shot them a strange look, but he wasn’t about to decipher it, he had stopped caring what other people thought of him. No point in trying to change someone’s mind. Harry wasn’t going to beg people to be in his life.
“I don’t want to do this.”
“I know,” Malfoy whispered as Binns floated through the chalkboard. “We’ll figure it out.”
“There’s a lot of ‘we’ going around.”
Malfoy glanced at him, eyes wary as he asked, “Is that okay?”
Harry didn’t think it was very fair that Malfoy could tell whether he was telling the truth or not, meant that he couldn’t lie.
“Yes, it’s okay.”
He got a slight curve of lips that time, and he was getting closer and closer to that smile he was after. Maybe soon.
“It’s just like we practiced,” Malfoy promised him, hands on Harry’s shoulders outside of the champions’ tent. “Summon your broom and get the hell out of there. Transfigure distractions if you have to. Get creative but don’t die.”
Don’t die.
“You need to work on your motivation skills.”
A small snort as Malfoy shook his head. “Just for that I hope you fall off your broom and hit your head.”
Rudest parting message ever.
When it was Harry’s turn to face the dragon he almost wanted to forfeit. What were they going to do? Kick him out? Please kick him out. Oh that would make his day. But Malfoy and he had spent hours upon hours studying and there was no way he was going to just give up.
Harry walked into the arena, head held high. The dragon eyed him warily as he pulled out his wand and summoned his broom. It took far longer than he expected, and he knew he must look silly standing there doing nothing but staring at the dragon.
When his broom arrived, the crowd cheered. The dragon watched him fly in a slow circle above her as he debated about what to do. Malfoy was right, he did need a distraction.
There were scattered rocks on the ground and with a wave of his wand he charmed them to fly. Dozens of rocks took to the sky and flew around the dragon obnoxiously. Some of the rocks moved in a constant circle above her head, some hit her repeatedly in the side while others began to move over her scales and mess with her tail.
An angry roar as the dragon turned in a circle, carefully stepping over her eggs, mindful to not crush them and that’s when Harry dived. The crowd cheered when he grasped the egg and he was halfway up when the dragon realized that he was there. She abandoned the rocks in favor of spitting fire at him that was easy to swerve by.
Harry moved his cloak enough that it covered the egg, he didn’t want her to realize that he had taken it. When she glanced down she seemed to notice something was different because she leaned down and began to sniff. He was positive that she was able to smell that he had been there, but the egg he had taken wasn’t hers. She sniffed each remaining egg and seemed satisfied that they were okay before she lowered herself gently on them to continue the hatching process.
Harry flew slowly away, not wanting to antagonize her further and landed gently on the outside of the arena to the sound of screaming cheers and chants of his name. The walk back to the tent was done in a daze as he realized that he had done it. He actually stole from a dragon and lived to tell about it.
“You did it!”
There was no warning before arms were thrown around his neck and his hands automatically went to Malfoy’s waist.
“I hate to say it, but you were impressive.”
“I always am.”
“Lie.”
Harry harrumphed, shoving Malfoy off him. It just wasn’t fair.
“The rest of the champions were garbage.”
Harry laughed, shaking his head as they neared the entrance of the tent. The judges were going over the results and deciding the scores, but he didn’t care if they put him in last. All he cared about was getting out of the tournament alive.
“I’m sure their tactics were decent.”
“Decent is a stretch,” Malfoy drawled. “You really were the best one.”
Harry hated that he flushed, but so did Malfoy, so it was okay.
“I don’t care how the scores turn out.”
“I do!” Malfoy argued, lowering his voice as he looked around. “I didn’t help you for a month straight to not do well.”
“Okay, you might have a point—”
“Harry?”
They both startled, turning around to see Ron and Hermione standing there.
“Oof, see you, Potter.”
“Hey!” Harry yelled after him as Malfoy power walked away. “Coward!”
Malfoy flipped him off, a slow smirk as he walked backwards. “It’s called self-preservation.”
Harry’s face twisted in a mocking manner that was promptly ignored as Malfoy hightailed it out of there. Part of him wanted to follow but knew that there was no point in stalling the inevitable.
“Harry?” Ron said again and it had him sighing as he looked at them both. Hermione was wringing her hands and Ron looked nervous himself.
“Talking to me again, are we?”
Ron’s eyes closed briefly. “I deserved that.”
Harry said nothing, hand gesturing for him to continue. He tried to reign in his anger, but he was one wrong word away from blowing up.
“I should have realized sooner that you didn’t put your name in the goblet. You’d have to be mad to want to participate in this tournament.”
“I did tell you that,” Harry said slowly. “I told you that I didn’t enter my name. Why would I want to?”
“I know,” Ron winced. “I was being stupid.”
Harry said nothing again, waiting. When Hermione frowned and said, “He’s trying to apologize, the least you could do is be nice about it.”
“I’ve yet to hear an actual apology, Hermione. The words, ‘I’m sorry’ haven’t been said. For that matter, you haven’t apologized either.”
“Me?” Hermione took a step back.
“I am sorry!” Ron blurted, looking between the two of them. “I was wrong. I should’ve listened to you when you tried to explain.”
The apology did help, but he was still so angry. He was aware enough to know that the anger stemmed from a place of hurt, but it didn’t help anything in the end.
When Harry looked to Hermione pointedly, he watched her struggle.
“I was just trying to be a good friend.”
“Well, you weren’t,” Harry shot back, watching her flinch. “I was accused of lying by one of my best friends, given the silent treatment over something I didn’t fucking do, and you think being a good friend means playing both sides? Not telling me that it wasn’t my fault that someone else got their wand in a jealous knot. Good friends stick up for each other, not refuse to take a stand. You wanted to be in the middle without having to choose because you didn’t want the guilt that came with it. But sometimes, doing what is right doesn’t feel good. But you do it even when it’s inconvenient. Even if it means standing up to your friends.”
Like Neville did to them during their first year. It took courage to tell a friend that they were wrong. Ron had been wrong, and Hermione didn’t have the courage to tell him that.
“I’m sorry!” Hermione cried, foot stomping. “I didn’t want to lose either of you.”
“And how did that work out for you?”
“Harry.” Ron took a step forward, putting a hand on Hermione’s shoulder. “We’re trying to make it right. We are sorry.”
Harry wanted to believe them, and most of him did, but it felt a little too late.
“I forgive you, but I can’t forget it. We can be friends again, but I don’t think we can ever go back to how it was.”
He couldn’t. He wouldn’t. The hurt was still there, and maybe once he got past that he would feel more welcome, but he knew that there wasn’t any way he could forget it. That heartbreak wouldn’t ever truly mend, and he needed them to know that.
“What does that mean?”
“That we try,” Harry shrugged. “Maybe start over or start different.”
“I still am not following.”
“The friendship that we had is gone,” Harry said, not mincing his words. “There’s no going back. Which means we have to start over. I need to be able to see that this won’t happen again. I need to be able to see that my friends are going to believe me when I tell them things. Not assume that I’m lying.”
They both nodded, and he wondered if it would be foolish to have hope. He did miss them, but it felt more like memories and not something tangible. He wasn’t sure what would happen, but he was willing to find out.
As they walked back to the castle with an awkwardness that hung over them like a permanent cloud, he wished that Malfoy was with him. The thought alone was jarring, and he hated that he couldn’t even lie to himself in an attempt to feel better.
He actually wished Malfoy was with him.
God, that was a scary thought.
Harry dodged nosy questions as everyone wanted to know what was in the egg, but he didn’t know because he hadn’t opened it yet. Most people assumed it was about the rules, but he didn’t give a fuck about the rules when it was obvious that Karkaroff and Maxine were sharing information with their champions.
The real reason was that he wanted to open it in privacy, but he also wanted to open it with Malfoy.
Which was disturbing, but true. Malfoy had been the one who had helped him during the first task. Malfoy was the one that gave up free time to help him study spells. It had been Malfoy who had come up with the idea of using a broom.
It had been Malfoy.
Harry walked into Snape’s classroom right as the bell rang but that didn’t stop Snape from docking Gryffindor ten points for being late. He didn’t bother arguing, there was no point—it would just lead to more points being taken.
“Excuse me, you’re in my seat,” Harry told Pansy, lips pursed when she glared at him.
“I was here first.”
“Malfoy is my potion partner.”
Harry looked to Malfoy and frowned at the surprise on his face. What was with him?
“Pansy, move.”
Pansy gasped dramatically, hand clutching at her neck before she stomped over Bulstrode and glared at the both of them.
“What’s with you?” Harry whispered after Snape yelled at the class to sit down and took another five points from Gryffindor. He wondered if that was why Dumbledore always gave him extra points for nothing, to make up for all the unfair points Snape took away.
“I don’t know what you mean,” Malfoy sniffed, pulling out a fancy golden scale that didn’t seem necessary when a regular one would suffice.
“You’re being weird.” Harry paused before he amended it. “Weirder than normal.”
A shrug as Malfoy began lighting the fire and pulling out their required ingredients. “I thought you’d want to partner with your friends.”
Harry blinked a few times before it all clicked. Malfoy was worried.
“I suppose I could have,” Harry said, handing Malfoy a knife. “But things are rocky with us. We’re taking it slow in the friendship department. Even if we somehow pretend everything is back to normal, that doesn’t mean I’m going to stop being friends with you.”
Malfoy froze, knife midair as he whispered, “Is that we are? Friends?”
“I’d like to think so.”
Malfoy turned to him, eyes wide. “You’re telling the truth.”
Warmth filled him like it always did when he was believed. “I am.”
Malfoy’s face was a bit pink, and he didn’t think it was due to the fumes of the potions nearby.
“This is a bad idea.”
“Probably,” Harry shrugged. “But all of my ideas are bad.”
Malfoy snorted as he turned back to the ingredients he was chopping. “All of mine are good, maybe we’ll balance each other out.”
Harry liked the sound of that.
They continued to work on their potion in a pleasant silence except for the occasional direction or small instruction from the textbook.
“Tell me something,” Malfoy said, eyes on the black liquid of their potion. He knew once they reached the last step it would change to a deep golden color.
That was their go-to, the game they liked to play.
“I haven’t opened the egg yet.”
Malfoy arched a brow as he said, “Truth, but why? Shouldn’t you get a head start on it?”
Harry bit his lip as he steeled his nerves. “I thought that we could look at it together.”
A pause before Malfoy’s breath hitched. “Are you sure?”
“Do you hear a lie?”
Malfoy’s eyes roamed his face before he shook his head slowly, eyes wide. “You mean it, you want me to help you.”
“I do.”
“Why?”
“Do I need a reason?”
“I think so.”
“Why?”
A glare as Malfoy crossed his arms. “Potter.”
“Malfoy.”
Malfoy rolled his eyes, but his lips twitched so Harry knew he wasn’t too annoyed with him yet.
“We made a good team the first time around.”
Malfoy licked his lips, eyes not meeting Harry’s as he nodded once. “I suppose we did. You’d be lost without me.”
“Then save me, don’t let me get lost.”
A dramatic put out sigh as Malfoy tossed his hands in the air. “Alright. I’ll help you. Merlin knows why, but I will.”
Harry let out a whoop that earned him another five points from Gryffindor, but he didn’t care. He got Malfoy to agree to help him.
That was all that mattered.
Harry covered his ears, but it didn’t block out the loud screeching that reverberated around his skull the longer the egg was open. He was grateful that Malfoy had thrown up silencing spells in the abandoned classroom they were using in the dungeons.
“What the fuck was that?” Harry panted once Malfoy closed the egg.
“That was Mermish,” Malfoy said, hands on his temple as he massaged his head slowly.
Mermish? Oh no. A sinking sensation filled his stomach as he tried to think of any other reason except for the obvious as to why the egg would be in Mermish.
“My grandma was fluent in Mermish,” Malfoy said, a sad expression crossing his face. “I’m not fluent, but I know enough to know that they will take something from you.”
Take something? What the fuck? He didn’t even have much to take.
“The only valuable thing I own is my firebolt.”
There was an almost fond look that crossed Malfoy’s features. “I don’t think they meant physical items.”
“Then what do they mean?”
“Let’s find out,” Malfoy said, wand waving as he transfigured a desk into a large basin. A whispered, “Aguamenti,” and the basin was full of water. The egg was dropped inside with a loud splash.
“Erm, what?”
“Honestly, Potter, do you not pay attention in Care of Magical Creatures?”
“Do you?” Harry asked doubtfully. Hagrid’s lessons were… well… not informative.
“Of course I do,” Malfoy sniffed. “Otherwise you end up on the wrong end of a Hippogriff.”
He tried not to, he really did, but a snort escaped and that had Malfoy flinging another Aguamenti, only it hit Harry in the face, soaking him entirely.
“Mermish underwater is clearer than it sounds when it hits the air. We’ll have to dunk our heads in.”
“I’m already wet.”
“Get over here before I drown you.”
Malfoy was so damn prickly sometimes.
Holding his breath, Harry dunked his head in the water at the same time Malfoy did. He unlatched the egg and braced himself for more screeching, but was pleasantly surprised when it was a beautiful song instead.
‘Come seek us where our voices sound,
We cannot sing above the ground,
And while you’re searching ponder this;
We’ve taken what you’ll sorely miss,
An Hour long you’ll have to look,
And to recover what we took,
But past an hour, the prospect’s black
Too late, it’s gone, it won’t come back.
Spluttering and coughing as Harry emerged, he shook his head, water flinging everywhere as he tried to remember everything the song had said.
“Potter,” Malfoy began, tone commanding as he stared down at the water. “I’ll go down there a few times to relay what the song says. You write what I say and by the end of it we’ll have a full transcript and then we’ll never have to open the damn thing again.”
Harry didn’t really like following orders, but he didn’t fancy having to be the one to constantly go under the water, so he quickly did as Malfoy asked and pulled out a piece of parchment and a quill.
It took five different trips before they had written it down exactly as the song had it.
“Your handwriting is dismal, Potter. I’ve seen first years with better writing.”
“Next time we have to face a TriWizard tournament, you can be the one to transcribe it, okay?”
Malfoy rolled his eyes. “Don’t have to be so testy all the time.”
“Me? Me? You’re the testy one!”
“And yet you are the only one who is raising their voice. I am calm and collected. I can’t say the same thing for you now, can I?”
Harry clenched his hands, taking a deep breath as he tried to reign in his anger. Despite how frustrating Malfoy could be, Harry liked spending time with him.
“What do you think?” Harry said, looking over Malfoy’s shoulder as he read it again for the tenth time.
“Come seek us where our voices sound, we cannot sing above the ground,” Malfoy repeated. “Obviously means that the second task is in water, where mermaids are. Since the tournament is being held here at Hogwarts, the only place that would be is the Black Lake, there is a colony of Selkies down there.”
Selkie? “Is that like a Siren?”
“No,” Malfoy scoffed. “Sirens are what you would think of when you think of the Muggle stories they tell each other. The pretty mermaids that lure people to their deaths. That is true, they do that, but Sirens need warm water and the Black Lake is too cold.”
“How did they get to be in the Black Lake?”
“Same way all Magical Creatures get fucked over. The Ministry. They ‘saved’ a colony of Selkies and tried to make a spectacle of them by having people pay to see them. Only it led to the death of those that got too close to the water’s edge.”
Harry’s face twisted. It sounded like what Muggles did with zoos and aquariums. The Ministry sucked. Why were they the ones with all of the power? Clearly, they didn’t know what they were doing and shouldn’t be allowed to make decisions that would never affect them.
“And while you’re searching ponder this; we’ve taken what you’ll sorely miss, an hour long you’ll have to look, and to recover what we took,” Malfoy said, eyes narrowed. “That’s what I meant about them taking something from you.”
“And you still don’t think it’s physical possessions?”
“No,” Malfoy shook his head. “But I’m not for certain.”
“But past an hour, the prospect’s black, too late, it’s gone, it won’t come back,” Malfoy said, one eye closed as he frowned at the parchment. “Black, I think that was a clue for the Black Lake but also to emphasis the time limit.”
“Yeah, and to threaten us,” Harry said, glaring at the wall. “Can they really do that? Keep whatever they took if we don’t make it in time?”
“No. I don’t think that’s what they are saying at all,” Malfoy said, head tilted and tone considering. “The song itself is incriminating if they ever did try to keep anything. The fact that the Selkies are willing to help with the tournament means that the Ministry offered them something in return. I think they are trying to urge the champions to be as quick as possible.”
“An hour,” Harry said, pointing at the parchment. “We have an hour to get back what they took. That’s not long at all.”
“No,” Malfoy agreed. “It’s not.”
There was a pause before Malfoy sighed and tossed the parchment to the nearest desk. “You do realize what this means, right?”
“Selkies are thieves?”
A pause as Malfoy squinted at him, face twisted in disgust. “Why do I put up with you?”
Harry poked him in the side, hard.
“It means that we have almost three months to teach you how to swim.”
Great.
Just fucking great.
“Tell me something.”
Harry wished he had grabbed the rock his foot had kicked so he could chuck it at Malfoy’s head.
“I love swimming.”
“Lie.”
Harry splashed Malfoy, who was sitting on the dock, kicking his feet in the water, before Harry floated on his back, staring at the darkening sky. Their swimming lessons were less a lesson and more of Malfoy barking out orders from a dry area. Swimming wasn’t that hard, he just had never been given the chance to try. The Dursleys never took him to a local pool and certainly no waterpark
“I can’t wait for the second task.”
“Lie.”
Harry huffed, eyes closing as he listened to the little kicks of Malfoy’s feet.
“I don’t like our lessons.”
There was a pause and that had his eyes snapping open as he thought over what he said. It was a lie, right?
“Lie.”
Harry licked his lips, before he lowered his legs and swam to the edge of the dock where Malfoy was eying him warily.
“You’re a horrible teacher.”
“Lie.”
He took a deep breath before he whispered, “I don’t like you.”
Malfoy’s breath hitched as his wide eyes searched Harry’s face.
“Lie.”
“Yeah,” Harry agreed. “It is.”
“Potter…”
They stared at each other, and Harry hated that his heart was beating fast. He was nervous and he didn’t want to figure out why, would rather live in ignorance.
“I like spending time with you.”
Malfoy’s mouth parted a bit and there was a look to his eyes that had Harry even more nervous than he was before.
“Truth.”
“I wish we had been like this before now.”
Malfoy’s eyes closed as he slowly nodded, holding out his hand so that Harry could use it to get on the dock.
“Me too.” It was barely whispered and barely heard, but it was enough to have Harry holding onto Malfoy’s hand and not letting go until they reached the entrance to the castle.
He wasn’t sure what was happening between them, but he didn’t want it to stop.
Harry was reading in the common room, ignoring Sirius’ face that kept popping in periodically. He knew his godfather was sorry, the dozen or so letters that were sent proved that, but Harry wasn’t ready to talk to him about it. There were only so many heartbreaks he could go through, and he wasn’t willing to go through another one just yet.
“There you are.”
Harry didn’t look up from his book on Magical Water Plants Through the Ages that he borrowed from Neville, but he did grunt in acknowledgment. Malfoy had suggested Gillyweed would be the answer they needed, but Harry hadn’t known what that was and needed to look into it himself before he agreed to it. So far, it was the best option and he already had plans to owl order several pounds of it so he could test it before the second task started.
“What are you doing?”
Harry arched a brow, not that Ron could see it as he still hadn’t lowered his book. “Reading.”
“Obviously,” Ron scoffed. “I meant why. We don’t have a quiz in Herbology, do we? I haven’t even done last week’s essay.”
“It’s due in two days, Ron!” Hermione scolded. “And don’t think for a single second that you can look at mine.”
“Come on, Hermione. You wouldn’t want me to fail would you?”
Harry tuned out their bickering in favor of reading. The book was worth the read and he could understand why Neville had it. He had learned a lot about plants in general but a good chunk of them doubled as potion ingredients that they regularly used in class.
“—arry!”
Harry jolted out of the zone he had been in, one that allowed him to tune out more than just background noise, but everything around him. It had been nice, and now he wasn’t sure how to get back to it. He was hyper aware of his surroundings, could hear a group of second years giggling in the corner and he could tell that Seamus and Dean were arguing over who won exploding snap.
“Harry.”
Harry blinked a few times before looking at Ron and Hermione who were staring at him.
“Yes?”
They traded a look and that might have annoyed him before all of this started, before their friendship had been strained, but now he didn’t care. The two of them had grown closer in his absence and he was surprisingly okay with it. Sometimes, he felt a pang for what they used to have, but he mostly was relieved. They would be okay, with or without him. And he was slowly realizing that so would he. That he didn’t have to be codependent, that he could be alone, and it was okay.
“I asked if you were ready for the second task,” Hermione said, hands wringing in her lap.
“I will be,” Harry said, shrugging one shoulder. “I’ve got it mostly worked out, just have to fine tune some things.”
If the Gillyweed worked out then he would be as ready as he could be. He wasn’t too keen on being underwater for an hour, but it wasn’t as if he could do anything about it. Whoever put his name in the goblet was a real arse and he couldn’t wait to give them a piece of his mind. Or let Karma work it out on its own. Maybe he could ask Malfoy about it. He bet Malfoy knew how to ruin someone.
“We can help, if you’d like,” Ron offered, freely and as nice as it was, he was doing alright.
“Thank you, but I think I have it figured out.”
“You can tell us, we won’t tell anyone,” Ron continued, looking around the room to make sure that they weren’t overheard. A bit redundant at this point, he should’ve checked before the conversation had started. He was pretty sure they were in ear shot of Sirius whose head still kept popping up from time to time.
“I’m not supposed to tell anyone,” Harry said, lifting his book again so he could start reading. “Part of the rules and all.”
“But you can tell Malfoy?” It was spat angrily, and while that was to be expected, it was annoying.
“Don’t know what you mean.”
“We saw you, Harry,” Hermione said, tone soft in a way that one would speak to a wild animal. “You’ve been spending time with him in the Black Lake.”
“As creepy as that is that you know that,” Harry said, lowering his book to begin packing up. “I don’t see what it matters.”
“You can tell him but not us? We’re your friends!”
“So is he.”
Silence. They traded another look and this time it did annoy him. “You have no right to judge me or who I choose to be friends with.”
“But it’s Malfoy.”
“Yeah, it is Malfoy. And you know what else he does? He not only listens to me, but he hears me and he believes me when I say things to him. That’s more than I can say for you two.”
“We’ve apologized!” Ron said, standing up and clenching his hands into fists. “What more do you want from us?”
The entire common room had gone silent, and maybe it had been for a bit, and he just hadn’t realized it. Either way, it made him uncomfortable. His entire life was in the public eye, and he hated it. He couldn’t even have a fight with his friends without everyone knowing about it. Ten galleons said the entire school would know by midmorning that Harry Potter was friends with Draco Malfoy and had a row about it in the common room. He wondered if there would be exaggerations. Would the whispers say that there had been a brawl?
“Nothing,” Harry mumbled, pushing the straps of his bag to his shoulder as he began to walk away. “I want nothing from you, okay? You made your choices, and so did I. You have to live with them, and so do I. We’ve had this conversation before, and you still aren’t listening to me. Our friendship isn’t the same nor will it ever be the same. We have to start new, and if you aren’t willing to then let me go now otherwise the future is just full of fights, and I’m sick of fighting, Ron.”
And he was. Every fucking year there was a fight of some kind. An adventure that he shouldn’t have had to face. Hogwarts was something else entirely and he just wanted peace. Just wanted quiet. Just wanted the chance to learn and be a teenager.
Was that so much to ask for?
“Heard about the row you had.”
Harry’s shoulders slumped as he threw a rock into the water just to watch it plop and sink to the bottom.
“I imagine every nosy sod knows about it.”
“I’m not nosy.”
He squinted up at Malfoy who shrugged sheepishly. “Maybe I’m a little nosy.”
Harry snorted, not really feeling up to swimming today, and he said as much too.
“That’s okay,” Malfoy said, sitting next him. “We can just sit here.”
So, they did.
They sat together for a long time, not doing much of anything outside of talking and taking bets on which Magical Creature the Giant Squid was chasing.
“I like this,” Malfoy whispered, breaking their usual pattern of Harry admitting things while Malfoy agreed to them.
It was Harry’s turn to agree as he placed his head on Malfoy’s shoulder and whispered just as softly.
“Me too.”
He didn’t want it to stop. Harry wanted to keep whatever it is they had going on.
Yule ball?
Harry stared at McGonagall hoping that he had heard her wrong. “What if I don’t want to participate?”
“Unfortunately, the champions open the ball by dancing with their partners.”
Horrified, Harry took several steps back. “I don’t know how to dance.”
“Perhaps you should learn. There’s plenty of time, don’t fret Mister Potter.”
Don’t fret. Easy for her to say, she didn’t have to show up with a partner.
Harry left her classroom in a daze. Students were gushing about the ball everywhere he went and some of the students giggled at him despite the fact that last week they were sneering at him and believing he put his name in the goblet.
Fuck all of them.
There wasn’t a single person he wanted to take the ball.
Malfoy walked into the Great Hall ahead of him, waving gently before settling into a seat at the Slytherin table and that was the moment Harry froze.
…yeah… there wasn’t anyone that he wanted to take to the ball… anyone… ah ha…
“What is this?”
There was censure in the drawling tone, but Harry had learned a long time ago that Malfoy didn’t mean anything by it. Some people had resting bitch faces, and then there were people like Malfoy who had a tone that was always filled with derision.
“That,” Harry said slowly and with wiggling hands. “Is Gillyweed.”
The plant was wrapped neatly and still unopened. Harry had pulled out his map and ran to find Malfoy, who was luckily at the dock.
“So you decided to listen to my advice after all,” Malfoy sniffed pointedly.
“I wanted to research it more before I just jumped into the lake and hoped it worked.”
“And what did your research say?”
Harry plopped down next to Malfoy who was opening the package. “I decided the theory was sound, but it needed to be tested.”
“I hate to agree with you, but you’re right.”
“I’m always right.”
“I’ll leave, don’t test me.”
Laughing, Harry pinched enough Gillyweed to last about a half hour and offered Malfoy some as well, who looked at him with raised brows.
“It’s only fair if you try it too.”
“With what logic?” Malfoy drawled, nose wrinkled. “I’m helping you out of the kindness of my heart and you want me to suffer with you?”
“That’s what friends do.”
“How very Gryffindor of you.”
“Will you quit complaining and just do it? We don’t have that much time before the sun sets and it gets cold out.”
“It’s not the cold I’m worried about,” Malfoy said, eying the water warily. “There’s a lot of different animals in there and none of them want us encroaching on their home.”
“They can deal with it for a little bit. We aren’t moving in, just visiting.”
“They don’t want tourists, Potter.”
“I’m two seconds away from shoving you in there without the Gillyweed!”
“Alright, fuck,” Malfoy snarled, swallowing his portion. “I can’t fucking stand you.”
“Liar,” Harry preened, pulling off his robes so he was standing in swimming trunks. “I’m a delight.”
When Malfoy didn’t respond Harry looked up to see him staring at him, or rather staring at his chest. Feeling self-conscious, he turned away. “Hurry up.”
With a dramatic sigh, Malfoy soon followed, taking off his robes. “I didn’t bring any trunks, so you’ll have to settle for my pants.”
Swallowing thickly Harry tried not to look, he really did, but soon his eyes were on Malfoy’s bare legs and with a quick glance he saw green pants—of course they were green—and then Malfoy was gone, jumping into the lake, splashing him entirely as he was left soaking wet and spluttering.
“Well?”
Huffing, Harry jumped in after him. He looked at his hands to see that they were webbed and he could feel gills on the side of his neck. Wicked.
“I don’t think we should stray too far from the shore.”
“I think you’re afraid.”
Malfoy splashed him in the face. “This is the last time I help you.”
“Lie.”
Pink stained Malfoy’s cheeks and Harry wanted to give into the impulse to touch it, to see how warm it was.
“Quit looking at me like that.”
“Like what?” Harry asked, feeling bold as he swam closer.
“Like that,” Malfoy whispered, eyes on Harry’s face. “Like you want…”
“Want what?” Harry prompted when Malfoy went silent.
Malfoy shook his head. “Tell me something.”
Smiling softly, Harry said, “I don’t want to kiss you.”
A sharp inhale as a soft, “Lie,” was said breathlessly and filled with a wonder that Harry placing a hand on the still pink cheek. It was as warm as it looked.
He waited for Malfoy to say something, anything, but before he could retract anything Malfoy lunged forward, wrapping his arms around Harry’s neck and kissing him. He had nothing to compare it to, but he liked it. He liked it even more when their lips began to move together and the space between them grew smaller and smaller.
By the second, third and fourth kiss, Harry was positive that he loved kissing Malfoy.
“No,” Harry complained, lips chasing after Malfoy’s when he moved away.
A light laugh that mellowed into a smile, one so beautiful that it took Harry’s breath away and he just had to kiss Malfoy again.
“The Gillyweed is going to wear off,” Malfoy mumbled against Harry’s lips. “We haven’t even made it underwater.”
“Don’t care,” Harry said between more kisses. It was like a drug, and he just knew it was because of Malfoy and not the act of kissing itself.
“Go to the ball with me,” Harry asked, kissing Malfoy again and again.
A smile was pressed against his lips, and he was a little upset that he couldn’t see it. Malfoy smiling was too rare to pass up, but he didn’t want to stop kissing him.
“Is that your sad attempt at asking me?”
“I think it’s my best attempt.”
Another smile before Malfoy kissed him with so much emotion it had Harry’s head spinning.
“Yes,” Malfoy mumbled, hands gripping Harry’s shoulders as they kissed again. “Yes, I’ll go with you.”
It was hard to truly decipher the jumbled mess of emotions inside him, but he knew that the prominent one was happiness. Happiness in a way he had never felt before.
“I really like you.”
Another smile, but this time he got to see it and it took his breath away. Why was Malfoy so handsome and how come it took this long to figure it out?
“I like you too, Potter.”
Harry bit his lip, grinning when Malfoy’s eyes took notice. “Call me Harry, please.”
A hitched breath as silver eyes looked up at him. “That’s a scary step.”
“And kissing me wasn’t?”
A head shake as trembling fingers traced his jaw. “I’ve never been Draco to you, Harry. That’s—”
Harry’s head swam at the sound of his name coming out of Mal—Draco’s mouth, and he knew that it didn’t matter what it signified or how scary the step was, he wanted it.
“Again.”
Furrowed brows before Draco’s lips twitched. “Harry.”
His eyes closed as he smiled softly.
“Harry,” Draco whispered again, pressing a kiss to his cheek. “Harry. Harry. Harry.”
“Draco.”
A slight gasp and he was grateful that it wasn’t just him who found wonder in sharing the intimacy of a name. Draco was right, it was a step, but he didn’t think it was scary. Harry wanted to dive head first into it and explore every inch.
Maybe that was the Gryffindor in him.
They never did make it under the water. They spent the majority of the evening in the water exploring their new found intimacy of whispered names and soft kisses. Harry learned that when Draco laughed his eyes crinkled, that when he smiled there was almost a dimple but only a hint of one. Harry discovered a lot of things, and all of them were just as important to him as a first name.
Harry kept calling him Draco and never wanted to stop.
The expressions on everyone’s face when Harry walked into the transformed Great Hall with Draco on his arm was priceless. It was hands down one of his favorite memories of the year, kissing Draco being the first.
The dance itself wasn’t as bad as he had feared, but that was only due to Draco’s dance lessons. They didn’t have time to learn to waltz so Draco taught him simple movements that he was more than happy to follow Draco’s lead.
“It’s not a waltz like it should be,” Draco mumbled when the song ended and they both sprinted to the nearest table, refusing to dance further. “But it’s good enough.”
Harry didn’t care if it was good enough or not. He was forced to participate in a tournament that was exceedingly deadly, forced to attend a ball he didn’t want to attend and then forced to dance on top of it. Honestly, McGonagall was lucky he didn’t just stand there and make a spectacle of himself.
Dinner was an awkward affair as Harry was forced to listen to Percy drag on and on when he really just wanted to have a conversation with Draco without anyone listening in.
“Come on,” Draco whispered when the tables were cleared, and the dancing continued. “This way.”
Harry followed Draco outside into a garden area where a few other students were milling around, some of them getting a little too public in their displays of affection. He had seen more of Davis from Slytherin then he ever wanted to.
“Dance with me?” Draco mumbled, hand held out and it had his heart fluttering as he took Draco’s hand, and they began a slow back and forth that he wasn’t sure counted as dancing.
“I really like you,” Harry said, unable to stop himself. It wasn’t anything he hadn’t said before, but with the night sky illuminating Draco’s face and showcasing his beauty it made his breath quicken and his heart race.
Draco smiled softly, eyes sparkling as he whispered, “I like you too, Harry. So much.”
“Everyone is going to think we are together after tonight.”
There was a quirk of pink lips before, “Since you’ve only ever asked me to one dance, then it wouldn’t be difficult to tell people they are wrong.”
“What if I don’t want them to be wrong?”
There was a flush to Draco’s cheeks as he leaned forward. “Then ask me, Harry.”
Heart skipping several beats he blurted, “Be my boyfriend.”
A beautiful laugh that he adored softly carried around them and it was far better than any music he’d ever heard.
Draco tilted his head as he brought their lips together. “Okay, I’ll be your boyfriend.”
Giddy and elated, Harry spun them around in a giant circle as Draco laughed in delight.
“Are you sure you want this?” Harry asked, hating that he was but he didn’t want Draco to later regret it. “I’m always in the papers these days and they are going to latch onto this. Harry Potter getting his first boyfriend? That boyfriend being son of famed ex Death Eater, it’s going to turn heads.”
“I don’t care,” Draco promised, thumb rubbing Harry’s bottom lip. “I’m worried what my father will think, he’s always been proud of me, and I’m worried he won’t approve. But even if he doesn’t, it’s not going to change how I feel about you, Harry. You mean so much to me.”
Harry surged forward, kissing Draco over and over.
“You mean a lot to me too, Draco.”
He knew they were young, knew that it would change everything, but he didn’t care. Draco made him feel warm and cared for. Draco listened to what he said but also heard him. Draco believed him when he spoke and never doubted him.
Draco meant everything to Harry.
“Did you see the paper?” Harry asked, gingerly sitting next to Draco on the dock, watching as his boyfriend—and Merlin that made him blush to think about—threw rocks into the water angrily, large splashes going everywhere.
“I saw.”
“Are you upset that they know?” Harry asked, biting his lip. One day, that was it, just one day as boyfriends and Draco was already upset. He hoped that didn’t mean—
“Don’t be daft,” Draco scoffed, still throwing in stones. “I’m annoyed that Skeeter somehow spied on us.”
Harry was too. Dumbledore had banned her from Hogwarts grounds, but she still managed to find ways around that.
“And I’m annoyed that—”
A screech had them both jumping as he looked around to see one of the largest owls Harry had ever seen flying right at them.
“Sage,” Draco gasped right as the owl flew down, dropping a letter on Draco’s lap before nipping a finger gently and taking off again.
“Sage?”
“My father’s owl,” Draco said shakily, just as shakily as his hands as slowly opened the letter. “I’m scared.”
“No matter what it says, I’m here for you,” Harry promised. He couldn’t fully understand what Draco was going through because the only one who might care that he got a boyfriend would be Sirius, and they hadn’t even been in contact for a full year.
Harry watched Draco’s eyes move at a rapid pace as he read the letter before they widened and filled with tears. Fearing for the worst, Harry hesitantly reached for the letter that Draco offered him.
My son,
I wish you could have done your mother and I the honor of finding out through yourself and not through the Daily Prophet. The Manor has been hounded with Howlers, angry letters and even curses through the Floo. All of them in the defense of young love.
We should have had this conversation years ago, but I foolishly wanted to keep you to myself for just a little longer. Draco, you are more than a legacy for me. You are more than the Malfoy heir. When I was nine my father told me that my future had been decided for me. I was to wed your mother by the time I was twenty and must have an heir by twenty-five. I never got to choose love, let alone my future and I promised myself that I would never do that to you.
Your choice in suitor is, well, something. I will reserve judgment until I meet him properly, as our past interactions leave a lot to be desired on both sides. I must confess that I don’t know what to think. This changes everything, Draco. Far more than just your own life. This changes things in my life drastically. I wish I could explain further, just know that I will choose you, always.
You, Draco, are my heart. I might not love your mother romantically, but you were always born out of love. We love you more than you could ever think possible, and I am ashamed with myself that you thought for a single moment that I might oppose who you choose to be with. In my opinion, you are far too young for a boyfriend, but I was your age once and can understand.
All I want is your happiness, darling. If Potter can give you that, then I will welcome him. Not with open arms as you will always be granted, but it will be with an open mind instead. I can’t promise that we will get along, but I promise to try. That’s all I can do in life is to try.
I am not angry with you, I am not upset. I am hesitant and wary, but I am still here for you, as I always will be.
You are my son, and I love you more than you will ever know.
Love,
Lucius
Harry stared unblinkingly at the latter before he read it again. Part of him was ashamed that he had expected the worst. He had honestly expected to see derision and angry words. He had expected Lucius to be the image that Harry had seen during his second year. But at the same time, what else was he to expect when that was the front that Lucius used in public?
“He loves you,” Harry mumbled, shoving down the ache inside him that wished that he too could have something like that. The Dursleys would never love him.
“Yeah, he does,” Draco said, wiping his eyes. “I’ll work on him, okay? He’ll grow to like you, I’ll make him.”
Harry laughed, knocking his shoulder into Draco’s as he handed the letter back over. “It’s okay if he never likes me, I have you and that’s enough.”
Draco’s breath hitched as he looked at Harry, eyes soft before he kissed him softly and filled with emotion.
The entire world knew they were together, and while that was scary and put a whole new kind of pressure on them, Harry was happier than he could remember.
And he’d do anything to keep it that way.
Anything.
The second task was anticlimactic in the way that Harry and Draco had over-prepared for it. They had spent every free moment they had leading up to the second task exploring the Black Lake with the use of Gillyweed. They discovered all kinds of Magical Creatures that they hadn’t known were down there. Knew which areas to avoid that were surrounded by Grindylows.
They had found the colony of Selkies but didn’t get too close once the spears and tridents appeared. Nope, Harry wanted to remain in once piece.
By the time Harry got to the Selkies and saw what had been taken from them, his eyes closed. Draco had been right. It wasn’t a physical possession at all.
Harry dived down right as a group of Selkies appeared, he paid them no mind as he waved his wand and shot a cutting curse at the rope binding Draco to the statue. Part of him wanted to grab the rest of them, but he was pretty sure they’d be fine. Draco had stressed the importance of getting in and out quickly.
So, that’s what Harry did. He was in and out of the lake within fifteen minutes.
Screaming reached his ears the moment he hit the surface as whatever spell had been put on Draco wore off and he started coughing.
“You did it!” Draco yelled, arms wrapping around Harry’s face as he peppered him with kisses. “Snape called me to his office and explained what would happen. I’m what you’d miss most.”
Harry flushed and rolled his eyes at the same time with how smug Draco looked.
“Of course you are.”
It was Draco’s turn to flush and it had him laughing as they were ushered to the dock and handed towels.
“Ah,” Draco cheered, hitting Harry repeatedly in the arm when it was announced that Harry was in first place by a large gap. “I’m so proud of you!”
More kisses and that brought out cheers from the rest of the students. There were several groups of people chanting his name, and as nice as it was, he liked the gentle praises from Draco more.
Draco, who had helped him from the beginning. Draco who had listened to him, heard him, cared for him.
The entire world could be against him—and it had—but he didn’t care as long as Draco was by his side.
“I’ve looked through every possible book in that blasted library that could help us, and I’ve got nothing to show for it!” Draco fumed, hand slamming on the table hard enough that Madam Pince glared at them.
“What are we talking here?” Harry asked, putting down his book on advanced spells that he was studying in the hopes that it would help during the third task.
“On your issue,” Draco whispered, eyes looking around them when he noticed they had the attention of several people in the library.
“You’ll have to narrow it down further.”
Draco snorted as he plopped dramatically in the chair across from him. “The issue of not being believed.”
Oh. That.
Harry frowned at the table. It had been going on for so long that it was easy to ignore. It still happened daily, where he’d say something and those around him would look at him in doubt, even if they didn’t say anything, he could tell.
As frustrating as it was, he was used to it. He didn’t hold out hope anymore, nor did he think that anyone would change. It was what it was. The fact that Draco could tell when he was being honest was enough for him.
Most of the time.
“There’s nothing?”
“Not really. There’s curses, very dark ones, that can be casted that causes everything someone says to be shadowed in doubt, but that’s more severe than whatever is happening with you. It’s not everything you say, is it?”
Harry shook his head. “Not that I’ve noticed at least. If it is happening, no one is saying it to that extreme.”
The fact that it wasn’t everything he said that wasn’t believed was interesting and had him curious. He hadn’t noticed a pattern. Sometimes it was something small like a reference on an essay, and then other times it was that someone was going to steal the Sorcerer’s Stone.
“Which leads me back to nothing,” Draco harrumphed. “I’m back at having nothing to go off.”
“It’s alright.” Harry tried to soothe him, but his hand was slapped away as he was on the receiving end of a harsh glare.
“No, Harry, it’s not okay! You deserve better and I don’t care if it takes me the rest of my life, I’m going to find out what’s going on!”
He was panting by the end of it and Harry was left with a parted mouth and wide eyes.
“Okay,” Harry whispered. “The rest of your life.”
Draco’s mouth closed as his face flushed. “Maybe I was a bit hasty—”
“Nuh uh,” Harry shook his head. “No take backs. You said the rest of your life.”
Eyes shining, Draco leaned forward and kissed him. “For the rest of my life.”
Madam Pince kicked them out after the fourth kiss with a promise that if she catches them doing it again they wouldn’t be allowed back in without adult supervision and neither Snape or McGonagall would be happy to hear that.
That was okay, they had a perfectly good dock they could make out at instead.
Harry was surrounded by a pile of books in the common room while several people stared at him. He was used to that, even if it was annoying. The longer the tournament went on the more the rest of the students were on his side. The wishy washiness of it all just pissed him off.
Where were they when he was a social pariah? Where were they when he was whispered about and made fun of?
“Harry?”
Harry shook his head a bit, clearing his thoughts as he looked into Hermione’s concerned eyes.
“We just wanted to wish you good luck for tomorrow.”
“Yeah,” Ron said, nodding several times in a way that was unusual for him. “We know you’ve been studying for it like crazy, and we want you to know that we’ll be cheering for you.”
Feeling warm, Harry smiled softly. “Thank you.” And he meant it. There wasn’t a day that went by where he didn’t think of them. Sometimes it was with a pang, and other times it was fondly as he reminisced on all of their good times.
Harry missed them.
“Do you know what it’s about?”
Unlike the last task, Harry didn’t mind sharing what he knew because he knew very little. “It’s a maze and there will be obstacles inside them and a lot of Magical Creatures.”
“Oh,” Ron said, nose wrinkling as he sat down on a chair across from him. “That’s lame.”
“It doesn’t have to be flashy to be cool,” Hermione said, huffing a little, but she was smiling fondly at him. “I wonder what kind of Magical Creatures they’ll use. I read about Chimeras, and I think—”
Harry partially listened to her as he soaked up the warmth that being near them provided. He wanted that, wanted more of this. He wanted his friends by his side as long as they were going to hear him. He wasn’t sure how well they would do, but he was willing to try.
Just like Lucius’ letter said. All he could do in life was try.
The third task was arguably the hardest one because of how little knowledge there was on it. At least with the first two tasks he knew exactly what to expect. This one was shrouded in secrecy which meant that Harry had to prepare for all kinds of Magical Creatures.
His study prepared him for absolutely nothing.
Never in his wildest dreams did he think that they would put in fucking Blast-Ended Skrewts. Part of his sleeves had been singed off and he hoped his eyebrows were intact. He also never expected to encounter Acromantula either, that had been terrifying and he got a cut in the process. The only reason he managed to get free with minimal damage had been the image of Ron’s Boggart in their third year being defeated by the spider legs being transformed into roller skates. It was silly and it was stupid, but it worked. Harry Transfigured stray leaves from the hedges into roller skates and watched the spider struggle to remain upright, giving him a chance to get free.
He nearly hit a snag with the Sphinx but spending time with Draco showed him that he needed to take more of his Slytherin side into effect and use it more. Instead of rushing through the riddle he thought about each line and when he finally gave the answer he was let through.
Rushing through the maze, firing spells at whatever he could as he continued to run he managed to make it to the final stretch where he could see the TriWizard cup. He had frozen when it gleamed in the low light of the night, and then froze again when further ahead of him at a fork in the maze was another person.
Cedric.
Swearing under his breath, Harry raised his wand right as Cedric looked over his shoulder, but it was too late.
“Petrificus Totalus!”
The sound Cedric made when he hit the ground had him wincing, that had to hurt. When he walked by, he apologized but also said, “That’s for third year when you caught the snitch as I fainted.”
Draco would be proud.
When he made it to the cup, and instead of the tournament ending, he was whisked away in the familiar feel of a portkey.
Immediately, Harry knew that something was wrong as he landed hard on the ground, the cup falling out of his hand. Mostly because he was in a graveyard and the castle was nowhere in sight. The portkey had to have taken him quite the distance from Hogwarts.
Wand drawn, he slowly looked around him, dread filling him when he realized that he wasn’t alone. Someone was coming closer and closer to the graveyard. He wished he knew how to Apparate. He looked at the cup that landed a few feet from him. If it brought him here, surely it might take him back, right?
Right as he went to move, pain unlike anything he had ever felt before had his knees buckling as he clutched his head. He tried not scream, tried to keep his pain to himself but small whimpers escaped as he dug his nails into his palms in an attempt to distract himself from the way his scar burned and ached.
His wand was ripped out his hands and he couldn’t do much more than cry out as the pain in his head increased, and the next thing he knew he was being bodily dragged through the graveyard. Harry kicked and scratched the best that he could, but it was no use.
He was dragged to a tombstone before ropes shot out of Harry’s wand that was still in the person’s grasp. As he twisted his head he could just make out the surname that read, Riddle and he groaned, eyes closing.
Of course.
Of fucking course.
Voldemort.
That’s what it always boiled down to, wasn’t it? Whoever put his name in the tournament had only done so for this, this reason alone.
“What do you want?” Harry asked, just to see if he could glean some information out of the person.
There was no reply, not that he expected one, but the man moved just enough to the side that Harry caught a glimpse of a side profile and it had him struggling against the binds as he snarled.
“Wormtail.” Harry was disgusted. “Not only did you sell out my parents who were your friends you went crawling back to him! I should’ve never stopped Sirius from killing you.”
He was never going to hear the end of it now. Sirius was going to be unbearable. Well, if he ever made it out of there.
Again, no response. Instead, a musty cloth was shoved into Harry’s mouth, preventing him from yelling like he wanted to. There was nothing he could do except for watch Wormtail work by a giant cauldron. There was a squirming bundle of robes at the base of it and Harry didn’t know what was in there, but it had to be nothing good.
Whatever was in the cauldron was steaming already, the heat seemed to be exceedingly high for a typical potion. A stray thought fueled by the stress of the night had him worried that he was going to be put in there. Hopefully, Wormtail wasn’t planning on cooking him.
“Hurry!”
Oh, no.
Harry jolted, a little thankful that he was tied up or else he would have fallen. The bundle of robes that was no bigger than a child was Voldemort. Whatever was left of the man was inside those robes. Where was Dumbledore when he was needed? Surely, Dumbledore could kill Voldemort now.
When Wormtail took off the robe, Harry shouted in horror. Voldemort was fucking ugly. He wasn’t sure if Voldemort could be classified as human. The strange shape barely resembled something humanoid—he was bald, scaly, red and raw looking with strange red-ish black eyes, no nose whatsoever and what he could only surmise as arms were stick like and looked like they’d break with a strong gust of wind.
Harry wasn’t the only one horrified. There was revulsion on Wormtail’s face as he dropped Voldemort in the cauldron, a loud thunk as the body hit the bottom. He wondered if Voldemort was alive enough to drown. Merlin, he hoped so.
“Bone of the father, unknowingly given, you will renew your son!”
Harry startled again when the ground below him began to shift and crumble as a bone from the grave he was on rose out of it and flew into the cauldron.
Oh, ew.
When Wormtail began to sob, Harry looked around in confusion, expecting to see the cause, but there was nothing, only Wormtail standing there with a dagger as he sobbed.
“Flesh of the servant willingly given; you will revive your master!”
Flesh? Like a piece of skin or like—
Harry gasped, but the sound was drowned out by the cloth in his mouth and by Wormtail’s screams as he cut off his hand.
What the fuck?
There was blood everywhere and the smell alone had Harry gagging. He managed to spit out the cloth in the process, but it did nothing to help him escape.
“Blood of the enemy forcibly taken; you will resurrect your foe!”
Wormtail had said through sobs before he ever reached Harry, and he only had a split second to make a choice. A stupid choice that would probably backfire in the end, but it was the only thing he could do.
‘Blood of the enemy forcibly taken.’
Well what if it wasn’t forcibly taken? What would that do to the ritual?
Harry held out his arm, willingly and let Wormtail take his blood. The man was in too much pain to pay attention to him, and that was exactly what Harry had been counting on. When his blood hit the cauldron, instead of changing colors like most potions do when new ingredients are added, it exploded.
There was only enough time to twist his head as the force of the explosion knocked over all tombstones in the first three rows, including Harry’s. He landed on his arm wrong, and he screamed as he felt it break. Harry pushed himself up from the crumbled tombstone as the rope binding had been ripped apart in the blast.
A garbled moan had him glancing up at the source of the explosion to see the same slimy and horrible looking version of Voldemort as before, only taller and crouched over like an old man.
There was still no nose.
Voldemort slowly—still crouched over—walked toward Wormtail who was writhing on the ground, clutching his bleeding arm.
“My wand.”
The wand was hastily thrown at Voldemort, who barely caught it before he roughly grabbed Wormtail’s arm, the one that was fully intact and pressed it to an ugly Dark Mark.
It was a little anticlimactic as nothing seemed to happen.
Voldemort began to talk to himself, and Harry wondered if his sanity had been left in the potion when it exploded and never made it back to Voldemort.
“Yes, it’s back, they should see it.”
“But will they show?”
“They’d be foolish not to. They are aware of what will happen otherwise.”
“It’s been so long. Too long.”
Voldemort began a strange pacing that was a little sad to watch with how much difficulty the man had with walking in general. If Voldemort was supposed to get a body out of the ritual, he didn’t get a good one.
When red eyes met his, Harry froze. Wormtail still had his wand, so there was very little he could do when it came to defending himself. If he had been closer he knew a good punch to the face would have Voldemort out for the count with that body.
“Harry Potter.”
That was the only warning he got before his entire body froze and he was forced to stand there suspended as several dark shapes exploded into the air with the sound of whirling cloaks.
Death Eaters.
They were all robed with masks covering their faces like the cowards that they were. If they truly believed in Voldemort’s ideals and actions then they’d boldly show who they were, they’d proudly broadcast their servitude to a madman.
“My true family has arrived.”
Harry was disgusted when one of the Death Eaters dropped to their knees and began to crawl their way to Voldemort to kiss the hem of his robes that reached his feet.
That wasn’t normal, that was a cult.
“My Lord!” The Death eater sobbed over and over. “You have returned.”
Several other Death Eaters filed in a line to kiss his robes and it was disturbing to witness. The crying had him wishing he could shake his head. Those were grown adults tripping over themselves to be the next one to kiss his robes. What next, the man’s feet?
“Welcome,” Voldemort said, throwing his hands out wide, and it nearly had him off balance with how bent over he was. Part of Harry wondered if Voldemort had always had back problems or if the ritual had gone wrong with Harry’s blood.
“Thirteen years,” Voldemort rasped. “Thirteen years we have been separated, but no more. You stand before me, all of you ready and willing to rejoin my ranks. Or do you?”
It was said threateningly, and it seemed to work as several Death Eaters shuddered.
Voldemort tilted his head back as he hissed, “I smell guilt. Guilt clings to your robes, the stench forever stained to you.”
Harry wondered how he could smell anything at all with his face mangled like that. Voldemort continued to berate them; tone increasingly angry as he recounted the horrible experience he had while his followers abandoned him. The longer the rant went on, the more he wished he could flee. The only good thing about the spell keeping him frozen was that he could no longer feel the ache of his broken arm.
Instead of listening to Voldemort drone on and on, he chose to observe the Death Eaters. Voldemort had ripped off some of the masks of his followers as he scolded them, making sure to commit them to memory. He made sure to take in every name that was said as well. If they were going to pledge loyalty to Voldemort then Harry was going to make sure the entire world knew it. None of these Death Eaters would be able to walk in public without everyone knowing exactly who and what they were.
Movement had Harry glancing toward a Death Eater that was looking at him. The mask was still in place, so he couldn’t tell who it was, but what he could see was a wand, pointed right at him.
There was no warning, and it took everything he had to not cry out as the pain from his broken arm returned full force as he was able to freely move. He knew that he had to keep pretending otherwise he’d be a sitting duck surrounded by a dozen or so Death Eaters and Voldemort himself with no damn wand.
When the Death Eater continued to look at him, one hand twisting as if to ask him what he was doing, Harry subtly pointed to Wormtail who was rolling back and forth on the ground like he was putting out a fire with, ‘stop, drop and roll’.
He didn’t know what kind of game the Death Eater was playing at, but he wasn’t going to look a gift horse in the mouth.
“Forgive us master! Forgive us all!” One of the Death Eaters shouted before Voldemort cruelly laughed as he flicked his wand at the same time a hoarse, “Crucio!” filled the air that was swiftly followed by the Death Eater’s screams of agony.
While the attention was on the writing Death Eater, the one that had helped Harry moved his wand just an inch and it had a wand that was on the floor next to Wormtail to slowly slide across the ground as it weaved in between rubble from the broken tombstones until it reached Harry’s feet.
Licking his lips, Harry braced himself for the opportune moment. He knew there was only one chance to escape, and he wasn’t even sure it would work.
“Get up Avery. I do not forgive, and I do not forget. None of you are worthy to stand before me, but unfortunately, you are all that is available. By my grace alone you will continue to live.”
Some grace…
Voldemort finally approached Wormtail and put an end to his sobbing and dry heaving by producing a prosthetic hand and magically attaching it to his wrist as he sort of commended him for his help in getting his body back. Harry had a hard time understanding why anyone would want to be a Death Eater when they were treated so poorly.
What was the appeal?
Voldemort turned to an empty space. “My most loyal servant should be standing here. For he is the reason my guest of honor is even here.”
As one, they all turned to Harry who didn’t even have to pretend to freeze as the attention alone had him rooted to the ground.
“Yes, Harry Potter. The boy who lived.”
Someone booed and if it were under different circumstances, he might have snorted.
“You all believed that a mere boy could defeat me. A child. The entire world has praised him for my downfall, given him credit for something his mother did. Her sacrifice now runs through me as well. I will show you all how insignificant Harry Potter is in the face of Lord Voldemort.”
Voldemort raised his wand and shot a spell right at his head, but he could only duck down to pick up his wand and by the time he stood back up, the spell was blasted to the side and a body stood before him.
It was the Death Eater.
The remaining Death Eaters stirred and whispered amongst themselves as Voldemort narrowed his eyes on the two of them.
“I have heard the whispers of the papers and foolishly brandished it as nothing but lies. However, your defense of the boy only proves that your loyalty lies elsewhere, Lucius.”
Harry gasped as the hood was lowered and the mask was removed. It really was Lucius Malfoy who protected him. Head swimming, Harry clung onto the back of Lucius’ robes as he gripped his wand tighter.
“My loyalty lies with my son and my son alone,” Lucius said, voice firm and unwavering. “I will do whatever it takes to protect my family, they come before all else.”
Harry blinked rapidly. Was Lucius implying that Harry was part of that family?
Voldemort raised his wand and Harry acted on instinct, already knowing that no spell uttered from him would be any good.
“Accio!” Harry yelled; wand pointed directly at the TriWizard cup.
The enraged scream of Voldemort’s echoed not only in his ears but his head as well. Harry closed his eyes as the portkey whisked the both of them away and a new round of screaming started.
Harry felt woozy as the pain of his arm increased as he was jostled by Lucius standing once again in front of him, protecting him. It took a moment for the nausea to abate, and he was able to peer around Lucius’ body to see the entire crowd looking at them. Harry was covered in blood, most of it his own, but some of Wormtail’s had landed on him during the explosion, and he didn’t want to know what other stuff managed to get on him either.
With how quiet it was, he knew there was no better opportunity to announce, “Voldemort has returned.”
More screaming.
It was chaos after that. Several people tried to get him to follow, but he refused, clung tighter to Lucius who stared at him a few times with a look that he couldn’t decipher.
“Follow me, Potter.”
“No,” Harry said, stepping closer when Moody’s Magical eye locked on him. “I’ll wait for Dumbledore, thanks.”
“Dumbledore has given me—”
“I believe that Potter has said no,” Lucius drawled.
Harry covered his mouth a bit when Moody’s expression twisted into something ugly. He had never seen anyone stand up to Moody before except for McGonagall when he got a little too happy with his spells.
Snape approached but Lucius pushed Harry further behind him, something that Snape’s narrowed eyes took notice of.
“Lucius.”
“Severus.”
It was some kind of standoff, one that Harry wished they would have another time. It was tense and filled with anticipation, of what he didn’t know. He opened his mouth to say something, but the sound of his name drew his attention.
“Harry!”
He turned in time to see Draco running right at him as he dodged professors that tried to stop him.
“He’s my bloody boyfriend and if you want to keep that hand you better get it off me, right now.”
Draco shrugged out of Moody’s grasp and ran right at him. Harry whimpered when his arm was jostled.
“Are you okay? What happened? Is he really back? Father? What are you doing here?”
“I do believe we would all like those answers.”
Harry didn’t look up from Draco’s embrace at the sound of Dumbledore’s voice, but he did relax a bit. They made a strange group as Harry, Draco, Lucius, Snape and McGonagall entered the castle.
Once they made it to Dumbledore’s office, Harry let out a little sob as he saw a familiar dog.
“Sirius!”
Sirius transformed right before them all, but before he could move forward and embrace his godfather, a strong grip to his shoulder had him looking up into Lucius’ face, who was not looking at him but instead at Dumbledore.
“Potter has a broken arm.”
It was a rush as several professors offered to fix it for him, but out of all of them that offered, Harry trusted Snape’s abilities the most, despite disliking him the most.
“Thank you,” Harry mumbled, not meeting Snape’s eyes as he rushed into Sirius’ waiting arms.
“I’ve been worried out of my mind,” Sirius whispered, hugging him tighter. “I’m so sorry, Harry. It’s not that I didn’t believe you, I just needed to hear it from your own mouth that—”
“It’s okay,” Harry whispered. It wasn’t. But he was going to let it go. There was too much going on in the world for him to hold a grudge. He wasn’t sure if he was cursed to never be believed, or if he was just unlucky. Either way, it was something he was going to have to navigate, and that might mean forgiving those around him.
“It’s not okay—”
“Draco,” Harry said, grinning into Sirius’ chest. “It’s okay.”
When he separated and was pulled back into Draco’s arms, he let his boyfriend look him up and down for any other injuries.
“What happened?” Sirius demanded to know as he looked around the room, nose wrinkling at the sight of Lucius.
“Voldemort is back,” Harry repeated as Lucius nodded. “The cup was a portkey. It took me to a grave where Voldemort was revived, sort of.”
“What do you mean sort of?” Snape demanded, sneer in place as he looked at Harry with an all too familiar derision.
Harry bit his lip. “I might have done something stupid.”
Snape snorted, but he ignored that. If he could learn to forget grudges then how come Snape, who was twice his age, couldn’t learn to do the same thing?
Harry recounted the ritual that Wormtail had performed. “The last part of it required blood of the enemy forcibly taken. I thought that if it had to be forcibly taken to work right then what if I offered it? I offered my arm to Wormtail and willingly gave him my blood.”
Several gasps, but it was the widening of Dumbledore’s eyes that drew his attention the most.
“What did he look like?”
“Ugly,” both Lucius and Harry said at the same time, and he had a hard go of it trying not to grin.
There was a slight sparkle to Dumbledore’s eyes as he said, “Can you expound on that?”
“Before the ritual, he was the size of a child,” Harry said, uncomfortably aware that all eyes were on him. When Draco entwined their fingers, he felt himself sag into his boyfriend’s side, soaking up all the comfort that he could—still keenly aware that all eyes were on him.
“His arms were frail and no bigger than a twig on the forest floor. He was bald, had no nose and his skin was red and raw.”
“And after the ritual?”
“He looked the exact same as before only taller and with a very defined curve of his back. He looks like an old man.”
“He would be an old man, wouldn’t he?” Sirius asked. “If you count the years he was gone, he’d be what, close to eighty?”
“Yes, but that kind of potion wouldn’t play into age,” Snape argued, a finger on his chin. “I believe that Potter messed up his ritual.”
When Sirius puffed out his chest in pride, Harry hid his blush in Draco’s neck, who wrapped his arms around him and held him close.
“I am inclined to agree with Severus,” Dumbledore said with a small nod in Snape’s direction. “This is a most unusual turn of events.”
It was a lot more than unusual, and Harry was a little offended. He went through hell and Dumbledore was going to call it unusual?
“Where does Lucy come into all of this?”
Draco gasped and so did Harry as he lifted his head to stare at Sirius in bewildered awe.
Lucius sighed, two fingers coming up to his forehead. “Oh, how I miss when you were in Azkaban.”
“I bet you do,” Sirius whispered, eyes narrowed on Lucius’ face. “Can’t regret what’s not in front of you.”
Harry frowned, unsure of what the two of them were talking about, but he didn’t think that now was the time to ask.
“Gentlemen,” Dumbledore scolded, eyes still twinkling, and Harry wished that he knew whatever it was that the headmaster did.
“I’m here because I protected Potter at the expense of my own life.”
When several eyes were on him, Harry nodded. “He helped me get my wand back, un-froze me from whatever spell Voldemort had me under and then he blocked a Crucio sent my way with his own spell and body.”
Draco placed a kiss to Harry’s cheek before he stepped away to throw his arms around his father. “Thank you. Thank you, father.”
Lucius looked down at Draco with such a soft expression on his face that it had Harry’s throat closing and he wondered if it was an invasion of privacy for witnessing it.
“I have been deemed a traitor,” Lucius said, clutching Draco closer to him. “I will be high on the list of those to get rid of, right next to Potter.”
“The Order can protect you.”
Lucius scoffed. “The Order is in shambles. I am too high profile to go into hiding. My son will be a target from his own peers. As will Potter. Do you honestly think the two of them will be safe here?”
McGonagall stood up straighter. “Hogwarts is the safest—”
“Perhaps from the outside,” Lucius conceded, nose lifted in the air. “How will you guarantee the safety of my son and Potter from those inside the castle.”
“Students would never—”
“Are you being daft on purpose?” Lucius snarled, placing a hand on Harry’s shoulder and pulling him closer. “The Dark Lord has returned. His Death Eaters are back in servitude and there are at least fifteen children of those Death Eaters that will act on their parents’ wishes if demanded of them. Traitors are seen as worse than the enemy to the Dark Lord. My son is a target every minute he is within these halls, and so is Potter.”
Harry frowned, brows furrowed as he considered it. Hogwarts had always been home to him. A place where he was free from the Dursleys, a place where he could be himself as he was surrounded by friends. He didn’t like what Lucius was implying, but he also wanted to survive. He wouldn’t put it past Voldemort to enlist the help of students to enact revenge against Draco. As much as Lucius had logic on his side, Voldemort didn’t. He was obsessed with Harry, and he didn’t think that Voldemort would allow anyone to kill him except for himself.
“Hiding,” Sirius mumbled. “They need to go into hiding.”
“I won’t run away,” Harry argued, shaking his head.
“It’s not running away,” Sirius argued right back. “It’s ensuring that you’ll live to see another day.”
Harry bit his lip as he stared at Sirius. He knew that Sirius hated hiding in Grimmauld Place, but it was something he had to do to survive. If his godfather could do it, why couldn’t he?
“We would need teachers,” Draco said, eyes on Harry. “O.W.L examinations are next year.”
Who cared about that? It must have shown on his face because Draco pinched his side. If Lucius wasn’t right there he’d have retaliated.
“That can be arranged,” Dumbledore said, eyes boring into the two of them. “I mourn the experiences that will be taken away from you both, but safety comes first.”
Part of that didn’t ring true for Harry. There had been plenty of things over the years that had affected his safety, and no one ever cared before. Why now? Because he had someone willing to vouch for him? Because it was adults that were the ones concerned? What would have happened if Lucius wasn’t there to back him up? Would they have even believed him?
Or was it because Dumbledore didn’t have a say in the matter?
They were dismissed, Snape and McGonagall staying behind, but as he reached the door, Harry looked over his shoulder and said, “By the way, Voldemort said he has a Death Eater inside the castle that managed to put my name in the Goblet of Fire.”
With that, he left, knowing that they’d have to work overtime figuring that mess out. For once, it wasn’t his concern. As he stepped off the last step he was pulled into a searing kiss.
“I was so worried,” Draco mumbled against his lips. “I could tell something was wrong. All of the other champions had come back but you were gone. They sent in professors to find you but there was nothing. Fudge was going to call in Aurors right before you showed back up.”
“I’m okay,” Harry promised, resting his head on Draco’s shoulder.
“You almost weren’t.”
He could have tried to lie, but what was the point when Draco could always tell?
“I know, and it was scary, but I’m okay.”
“Don’t lie to me.”
“I’m not,” Harry frowned. “I’m physically fine.”
“Emotionally? Mentally?”
Okay, maybe it was a lie.
“I’m not sure.”
Harry lifted his head to stare into Draco’s eyes. “It was horrible.”
Draco squeezed him so hard Harry’s breath left him in a whoosh, and it had him laughing a little. It was a wonder that Draco could get him to laugh at all after the night he had. He wasn’t sure if he wasn’t coping well or if it was because of Draco that he was able to cope.
“As disgusting as you two are, can we move this along?”
Harry’s eye widened as he stepped back from Draco and turned to Lucius, who was standing next to Sirius—his godfather staring was at Draco with something that Harry could only describe as soft.
Lucius locked gazes with Harry and despite how nervous he was, and how he had previously dreaded meeting him officially, Harry knew that there was only one thing to do. He rushed forward and hugged the man.
“Thank you,” Harry said over and over. “Thank you for protecting me.”
Harry wasn’t sure what would have happened if Lucius hadn’t intervened. He might have managed just fine, or he might have been as dead as Voldemort’s poor father.
Lucius bent down until they were eye level. “I want to apologize to you, Mister Potter. I’m not a nice person and I have never treated you properly, but I want to make up for that. It shouldn’t have taken seeing you, the same age as my son, in that graveyard to realize how mistaken I was in putting my faith in someone like the Dark Lord. That, I will have to live with, but in the meantime I would like to get to know the person who makes my son smile.”
Eyes a bit wet, Harry nodded rapidly. Honestly, it was a little telling that it took so long for Lucius to realize, but he had seen what exactly Voldemort was like with his followers. There would be those that never snapped out of it, those that would never see through Voldemort’s words. Better late than never.
Harry still thought it was a cult.
“Thank you for being proud of Draco,” Harry whispered, hoping that no one else could hear him. “He looks up to you so much.”
Lucius’ face crumpled before Harry was pulled into a hug. Everything was surreal and he was a little awed that he was hugging Lucius Malfoy in the corridor in front of Dumbledore’s office.
Then again it wasn’t every day a madman comes back to life and kidnaps teenagers and takes them to a graveyard.
Harry’s entire life was surreal.
When Harry stepped back, Draco entwined their fingers.
“What now?”
“Can Harry come live with us?”
Lucius blinked twice but before he could say anything Sirius said, “Is that wise? Malfoy Manor is not hidden. If Harry is a target here, wouldn’t he be a target there?”
Malfoy Manor? Harry had only heard of the place through Draco’s stories. It sounded like a castle to him too, just smaller than Hogwarts. He couldn’t imagine growing up in all that space.
“Temporarily it will do,” Lucius said, eyes on the wall. “If the Dark Lord attacked, the wards would eventually fall. I will have to think of somewhere safe for all of us.”
There was a pause before Sirius shifted his feet. “I have a place.”
Harry frowned at his godfather. “If you have a place why are you living in caves?”
Sirius flushed a bit. “I never wanted to go back if we’re being honest, but I need to take a more proactive role for you, Harry. Just because the Ministry won’t clear me doesn’t mean that I can’t still raise you.”
Hope blossomed in Harry, and he hated that there was a part of him that thought it wouldn’t come true. Nothing good ever happened to Harry except for Draco. Every time he thought he had a bit of happiness it was always taken away from him as he was shoved back to the Dursleys.
“Back where?” Lucius sneered, and it was entirely obvious where Draco’s personality came from. Only on Draco it looked good.
“The Noble House of Black,” Sirius said with a little dramatic bow. “The only way in is through me as the secret keeper.”
Lucius’ brows rose higher than Harry had ever seen someone’s brows go.
“How long has it sat there unattended?”
Sirius grimaced. “I expect right after my mother died which was right before I was imprisoned.”
“That’s not livable conditions.”
“No, but it can be.”
Lucius scoffed. “And I expect you’ll be wanting my help?”
“If you’re planning to live there then yes.”
Harry watched them bicker back and forth a bit confused. The two of them clearly knew each other, but how he wasn’t sure.
“I’ll lend you House Elves.”
“House Elves?” It was Sirius’ turn to scoff. “Mister prim and proper can’t get his hands dirty, can he?”
“We are both aware of how dirty my hands can get.”
Harry and Draco shared a look, minds coming to a horrifying conclusion that he didn’t want to think about at all.
“Come on, Harry, let’s leave them to it. When we get to the Manor I can show you my room, where you will be staying.”
“No, absolutely not,” Lucius yelled after them as they began to walk down the hall. “You two will not be sharing a room let alone be in the same wing.”
“It’s rather spacious, so there is plenty of room for the both of us,” Draco continued, lips twitching. “I can introduce you to my mother, she’s not as nice as my father to strangers, but with time she’ll warm up to you.”
Not as nice as Lucius?
Oh Merlin. Harry was kind of wondering if it would be okay to stay at Sirius’ place despite it being unlivable.
The sound of Lucius and Sirius still bickering carried over and despite the unease of the future, what would happen with Voldemort and their schooling, Harry was content. He had a boyfriend who cared about him, a godfather that loved him, and potentially a Lucius—that one was still in the air as to what that would be.
Harry still wasn’t sure why no one believed him when he spoke, didn’t understand if he was cursed or just unlucky, and he resigned himself to never figuring it out. As frustrating as it was, his life balanced out between the good and the bad.
He’d take it, cursed lies and all.
