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Enveloppé dans un joli nœud

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Little Draco was not the most social of people, not by a long shot. Rich, spoilt, loved and protected by his parents. What was the use of friends when you had all that. So his parents throwing a Summer Solstice ball wasn’t exactly “entertaining” for this 8-year-old. All these important French people were all talking and laughing and Draco was definitely not having any “fun”.

 

So, of course, he escaped from the cooing adults and the bratty kids.

 

He found comfort on his own, just him and his books. What else was there in life? He knew if his family were to know he was alone again, they’d give out to him. They always wanted Draco to make ‘friends’ but Draco didn’t see the point.

 

Nope. Draco would never, ever have a friend.

 

Ever.

 

So he stayed under his favourite tree and read his book, ‘Annabethe Evergarden and the Ancient Village’.It was reaching its climax; Annabeth was just about to stop the Evil Sir Snobworth from stealing the Villager’s gold. All she had to do was say  ‘Stupefy’ and it’ll all be done, but Draco’s question was would she do it or would she let the fact that Snobworth knew her late father affect her decision.

 

‘So Annabeth, is this really the path you want to take?’ Snobworth said, still cocky even with his hands up in the air in surrender.

 

Annabeth’s grip tightened on her wand as she stared down the man in front of her, ‘You already know my answer.’ Annabeth had the spell on the tip of her tong-

 

“STUPEFY!”

 

Draco jumped in fright at the yell. It was only then that Draco noticed a person was standing behind him. He turned his head so quickly to the invader that he almost gave himself whiplash. He was met with the grinning face of a girl with short chestnut hair and bronze skin. Her oddly golden eyes twinkled with amusement as she studied Draco’s face.

 

“Hi,” was all this snooper could say.

 

Draco arched a pale eyebrow, “Do you mind?” He asked this rhetorically, of course.

 

She did not get the message, “Not at all,” she replied before dumping herself quite unceremoniously onto the ground near Draco.

 

Draco was flabbergasted. Most times it just took only those cold words to leave his mouth to make other kids leave him alone. But not only was this random girl not doing that, she was smiling at him and was clearly talking but Draco was not registering a single word she said.

 

“-onestly, I like Annabeth’s healer, Alex, she’s much cooler and deserves waayy more than she gets and is so much more than Annabeth’s love-interest. What do you think?”

 

Draco was still speechless but he quickly snapped out of it when he realized he was asked a question, “umm, yeah—” Malfoys never say ‘umm’, only when they’re truly shocked and this was Draco's first time experience with the word, “—she’s so cool. I want to be a healer when I’m older because of her.”

 

“Really?” The girl actually sounded genuinely impressed.

 

This encouraged Draco to nod proudly with such speed, it ruffled his perfectly combed hair.

 

“Well, I want to be a quidditch player,” she boasted with such surety that Draco himself was impressed.

 

“Really?” He asked, mimicking her own words and manner. And she matched up, nodding similar in enthusiasm to Draco.

 

They talked for what seemed like hours, and Draco actually enjoyed her talking. It took 2 hours for one of them to realize that they should ask each other for their names.

 

“Chantelle Devere.” She stuck out her hand which Draco happily accepted.

 

“Draco Malfoy.”

 

Draco didn’t think Chantelle’s grin could get ANY bigger, “Draco, I think we’re gonna get along fine.”

 

Draco found himself agreeing.




“So you're telling me that you have no recollection of a book that practically forged our friendship.”

 

Draco looks up from his study table to his best friend of 8 years in utter disbelief, who is slackly lied down on his bed with a Quidditch mag in her hands. She flips a page  lazily before flatly replying with a simple, “Nope.”

 

“It’s Annabeth fucking Evergarden you illiterate fuck.” Draco’s words sound harsh but they literally bounce off Chantelle. They are so used to each other's equally snarky company to think these insults were spoken with malice.

 

“It was 8 years ago you nostalgic weirdo,” She shoots back without even getting up, “you know damn well I’ve never read another book since then.”

 

Draco can’t argue with that point and gets up to lie down next to where Chantelle draped herself. “Still, it’s sentimental and stuff,”  Draco murmurs into a silver pillow he cradled in his arms.

 

Sighing, Chantelle folds a page in her magazine before turning to face her best friend.  She can see the disappointment in his grey eyes and concedes, “If I say I’m fucking with you, how will you react?”

 

A pillow in the face is the only answer Chantelle receives.

 

Before she can abuse the boy back, a house-elf pops in, interrupting the two from staging a war. The house-elf—whose name was Toffy—looks in horror, at the scene of his Master Draco in mid-block from the rolled up magazine that Chantelle was about to hit him with.

 

“Hi,” they both say awkwardly to the shocked creature.

 

“Master Lucius be calling both of you,” it squeals before popping away.

 

Noticing that Chantelle is still paused mid-attack, Draco kicks her in the gut causing her to crumble up in pain before slipping out the room and away from the most likely pissed off girl.





Lucius hears the approaching footsteps getting closer to his office, and rubs his temple in preparation for the chaos he knows will be crashing into his office.

 

Just in time, the oak doors shoot open as two figures come running through. One of those figures, being his beloved son, Draco Malfoy, immediately goes behind his chair to hide. Probably from his best friend, Chantelle Devere, who has her wand drawn with a pissed expression.

 

“Daddy! Help!” Draco squeals. Lucius didn’t even try to hide his rolling eyes. His son hasn’t called him ‘Daddy’ in 8 years, except for the occasional Christmas’ and Birthdays.

 

“Chantelle put the wand down,” Lucius orders calmly but the brunette looked royally pissed off. Lucius wonders what his little Draco did to get the normally calm girl this pissed. “You're a minor and one spell from that and it’s expulsion. And with your record, even I couldn’t save you.”

 

Chantelle holds a challenging glare—clearly about to argue about being told what to do—and with his son’s constant squealing and whines for him to save him... Lucius can feel a migraine growing.

 

It took Lucius 15 minutes to settle the situation. Sure the results lost him a perfectly good vase and gave him two sulking teenagers, but Lucius had seen worse.

 

“You wanted us?” Draco asks coldly, clearly hurt by his dad giving out to him. Even though technically he started it.

 

“Oh yes,” Lucius remembers, stalking towards his desk producing a light blue envelope that was clearly from Draco and Chantelle’s infamous school, Beauxbaton. Draco looks smugly at his best friend whose eyes were as big as dinner plates—blue envelopes are never a good sign for troublemakers— e.g: Chantelle — in Beauxbaton.

 

“It’s for the both of you,” Lucius states and it is now Draco’s turn to be shocked.

 

Chantelle takes on Draco’s smug expression. If she is going down, she will definitely take him with her.

 

“Daddy whatever it was, I didn’t mean it, I was probably trying to stop Chantel-”

 

“Stop me! You probably planned it in the first place. Also, no one can stop me!”

 

“You're not helping either of our cases!”

 

Lucius pinches the bridge of his nose, having enough of the two’s arguments. “Quiet!” He bellows, which Draco and Chantelle follow immediately, not used to him raising his voice.

 

“Good,” he compliments as he watches the two teenagers actually settle down for once since this Saturday started. “Now, this letter is an invitation —” He pauses to study the surprised expression on the teens' faces, assuming they’d say something but they didn’t, so he continues, “—an invitation specially sent for you two, to accompany the rest of a selected 50 from your year to Hogwarts to participate or support Beauxbaton in the newly reinstated Triwizard competition.”

 

For a second there is just silence in the office. Lucius guessed they were simply processing the information. He’s having difficulty dealing with this new information too.

 

He had not noticed the ‘Hogwarts’ part when he’d simply skimmed the letter. Who knew that one word would take him back to long-forgotten memories.

 

Only just 15 years ago, he had run from England.

 

After generations of Malfoys serving the Dark side, Lucius broke this simple custom. All it took was him holding his only son and he immediately gave up the Dark Lord. On with an assurance that he, his wife and son would safely flee Britain and go somewhere far from the Dark vs Light war. Far fro-

 

“Father? Are you listening?” Lucius is pulled out of his dark memories by his son. Looking down at his boy, he can’t help but smile. All of that work was for the beautiful boy sitting in front of him.

 

His son is his pride and joy.

 

A splitting image of prized Malfoy beauty, he bloomed from his adorable little boy to his beautiful, older (still his little) boy.

 

He can't possibly lie and say his son’s natural beauty was all because of the pureblood in his veins. Malfoys were rooted from a long line of Veela heritages’ that give them their infamous blond beauty. His glowing blond hair had started to grow longer due to his Veela inheritance only 3 years ago—almost reaching past his mid-back.

 

Lucius notices that his eyes oddly never changed—still large and doll-like. Pools of silver, which is sadly a Black gene—beautiful on his wife, but he still wishes they were his icy blue, besides, Lucius can see the specks of blue popping up here and there.

 

But his son is not just a pretty face; in between those stunning eyes lies a brain that is a prodigy in the making. Physically Draco is not strong—not with that delicate body—but with his powerful magical ability accompanied by his brilliant mind, he was a powerful enemy.

 

“Uncle? You alright?” turning to the only other person in the room, Lucius smiles proudly at her too.

 

Chantelle Devere. Lucius never thought he could love a child that was not his but Chantelle proved him wrong. Chantelle has changed a lot since Lucius first met her, growing from that awkward, lanky little girl that stiffly stood behind Draco as the boy tried to convince him to let her sleepover. Let’s just say that “one” sleepover turned into the girl practically moving in—but Lucius wouldn’t lie and say he hated the girls quite permanent home in their family.

 

She used to be all bone and no meat but she’d finally grown and developed well with pure muscle like the quidditch players she so admired. Lucius knows from experience that this girl could bench press him if she so chooses too, which she hasn’t….yet. Lucius will never admit it, but he can’t help but be a bit scared of the girl. In his defence, her staggering height—she towers over many males that would typically boast at their height—and her incredible strength; she is a ferocious enemy.

 

Even with the raw strength that oozes off her, she is still attractive—in a butch sort of way—her hair is long but always in a ponytail and she has an athletes’ muscled body while also having the endurance of a brick wall.

 

Both of them together make an amazing pair. Strength and brilliance is always an amazing tag team.

 

Lucius wasn’t sure why he is recalling all this information now. But, he knew it was somehow rooted to his long forgotten and well-hidden fear. Lucius would not admit it, but he is wary of sending these two, who he considered his ‘children’—ironic because only one of them is his actual legitimate child— to a place he fled so long ago because of the dangers that harboured in that little community.  Would they be able to handle the shadows’ Lucius left there or would the-

 

“Hellooo!?” “Father!” “Uncle Lucius!”

 

Lucius snaps out of his anxious thoughts due to the two teenagers who are now standing up and waving their hands frantically in front of him.

 

“Were you saying something?” Lucius wondered, quite dopey-like, which is unorthodox considering his character.

 

Sighing, Draco restates, “I said, can we deny going?”

 

“Why would you deny?” Lucius questions, shocked but relieved.

 

“Father have you listened to a thing I’ve said all summer?? What about our N.E.W.T.S, our’s is in 6th year, I was planning to spend my free 7th year volunteering at St.Mungo's. Father, what shall I do? I need the experience, I must become the youngest licensed healer so I must be licensed by 24, this is my life goal so...”

 

“Er-”  Before Lucius can answer any of those questions, it turned to Chantelle’s turn to rant.

 

“My quidditch training, Uncle, I’m being scouted by the   Ballycastle bats, the Holyhead Harpies and the Montrose Magpies! These are TOP quidditch team, I can’t give this up because of some dumb Triwizard competition, this is ridiculous. I-wait a second…” Chantelle pauses as if in thought before turning to Draco and whispering, “Draco, what's a tri wizarding competition?”

 

Draco pauses at that question before shrugging and turning to his Father for guidance—who had been trying to slink away from the onslaught of questions and rants being directed at him.

 

He pauses when he realizes they are now focused on him. Coughing awkwardly, he straightens up, “Well children, the Triwizard competition was an old wizarding tradition that goes back to the 13th-century, it's a competition for those of mighty courage and incredible magical abilities—” honestly Lucius was exaggerating a bit, he is 50% sure of what he is saying but it's keeping both Draco and Chantelle quiet so he continues, “—and err, brilliant wit. The selected champions go on and compete in dangerous challenges to win extraordinary prizes and Eternal Glory !”

 

Lucius looks back down on the two faces of each teenager and saw two completely different expressions.

 

On overzealous Chantelle, is an expression of shock and excitement. It didn't take a psychic to know whether or not she’d participate.

 

On cold Draco, is, in fact, the exact opposite. He has a single pale eyebrow raised in disbelief while keeping a stoic expression which meant he is not impressed by the tournaments description.

 

They open their mouths at the same time to say, “That sounds…”

 

Lucius feels sweat form at what their decision is going to be. He himself, unsure of his stand on the trip.

 

“....AWESOME!!”

 

Lucius is shocked at that reply. He knew Chantelle would love this idea but Draco’s compliance was unexpected.

 

“Pardon me?” is the only thing he could ask, directing this question to Draco.

 

Draco chuckles at his dad’s confused expression, “Think of it Father, a competition that was cancelled due to it’s dangerousness...its healer experience goldmine!” Draco pauses as in thinking of something before beginning to murmur to nobody, “I wonder if the headmistress would let me be a trainee for the competition? She trusts me, right? I’ll write to her and tell her that…..”

 

Lucius turns from the distracted boy and looks toward his son’s best friend who has her usual huge grin with a dreamy expression.

 

Lucius would bet his entire fortune that the girl is imagining participating in that competition, “You just want to be a champion don’t you?” He asks even though he knew the reply.

 

She nods frantically, so distracted by her own fantasy that she could only say, “I want eternal glory.”

 

“Of course you do,” Lucius turns from both distracted teenagers to try to collect his thoughts. He can’t possibly refuse now that both of them are so interested in attending. He had no choice, “I guess I should sign the  permission slip, huh?”

 

The two nod like bobble-heads.

 

Picking up a quill and after dipping it in ink, he brings it towards the consent form. The tip is almost touching the paper but Lucius’ hands shaking so much, it causes him to be unable to finish his action.

 

His mind flares with memories of the burning of the dark mark into his skin, the pain of the crucio curse from the end of that evil mans—no, monster’s wand. No,  England is no good for Malfoys, nothing good ever happens in England, not for him and definitely not for his childre-

 

Lucius is once again pulled from his thoughts, two different hands being placed on his own. One pale and slender, and the other bronze and rough. Lucius does not even have to look up to see who’s appendage was whose.

 

“Father, if you don’t want to send us you don’t have too,” Draco says softly.

 

“Yeah, it’s up to you. Honestly, it’s a win-win either way.” Chantelle adds with a jest in her voice.

 

Lucius knows that they are only trying to cheer him up and they truly want to go. He can’t let them sacrifice their newly found excitement for his petty fears from the past.

 

They seem like they are going to speak again but Lucius cuts them off by signing the paper with his exaggeratedly fancy signature before stuffing it back into the envelope to be sent back.

 

Looking up, he sees that both teenagers have a surprised face. Lucius is shocked when he is embraced by the two in a bone-crushing hug; in public, Lucius would never let this happen, but this isn’t public and what was 5 more seconds.

 

Well, until he started to see black spots and is tapping on both arms in surrender.

 

The two release him, and they give him one more bright smile before bouncing on their way—probably to pack.

 

Lucius massages his neck and shoulders in recovery from the hug and wondering— hoping —he made the right decision.

 

Because for now, that’s all he can do.



Chapter Text



Two pools of shimmering green eyes slowly open—heavy in exhaustion.

 

The boy who owns these eyes turns his head to face the conveniently placed alarm clock on his bedside table. It takes a while for his eyes to focus enough for him to read the digits on the clock but, oh boy, when they do...

 

“FUCK!” Harry Potter yells as he shoots up and off his bed like a bullet. He slaps his hand around the bedside table until he feels what he is looking for. Shoving his glasses onto his face and picking up the clock—hoping that he misread the time and is actually not an idiot.

 

Surprise, surprise, he is an idiot.

 

In all of Harry’s life, he's never moved as fast he is now. A lot of things happen at once. He manages to remove his pyjama’s while packing his bags—he is technically just throwing anything he can reach into his duffel bag but that's basically what packing is. He also succeeds in tying his shoes while buttoning his shirt at the same time which is an amazing accomplishment in his books.

 

He almost forgets to stuff his wand into his pocket and decides to accompany it with a few quills and a...raisin? Who knows, but it's going with him now.

 

He kicks the door down roughly before throwing his bag over the stairs and only pausing to hear it land on to the tiled floor of the downstairs floor with a ‘slap’.

 

His next mission is removing whatever smell is wafting off him. It is simple enough—but in the Potter household, the easiest things were the most difficult.

 

“Jasmine! Open this fucking door or I will  blow it up!” Harry yells as he bangs onto the poor wooden door.

 

For a moment there is silence, before a female voice loudly shouts out, “Eat a pygmy puff!”

 

Groaning, Harry rests his forehead onto the door before coming up with an idea. A sly smirk blooms over his face as he teases, “ Jasmine ~ , ” he can practically feel her freeze up at his tone of voice, “open the door or I’ll tell mom what you bought at Primark when she wasn’t looking. I’m sure mom wouldn’t be happy to know you bought a tho-”

 

Harry didn’t even need to finish his sentence before the door opens quite forcefully.

 

Harry looks down at the face of his sister. Well, someone he assumes is his sister—because the girl in front of him does not look like his sister

 

Harry remembers his sister had long brownish-red hair and a light-brown face splattered with dark freckles—or at least that’s how she looked three weeks ago before Harry left for Quidditch camp.

 

The girl in front of him has half her hair chopped off in a bob—which reminded him of Pansy Parkinson quite a bit—with streaks of green in it, matching her eyes and her green Slytherin tie. Her freckled face is covered up by what Harry would guess is make-up, giving her face the illusion of completely clear skin.

 

And Harry would think she’d stop there but nope. Her eyes are shaded by sparkly black eyeshadow and also outlined heavily with even more black eye-liner. The oddest is strangely the last he noticed, she has had her nose pierced with an emerald stone piercing that gleamed in the morning light.

 

For a moment Harry just stares at her, his tired brain just trying to compute what he is looking at.

 

“Is there something on my face?” She questions sarcastically, staring up at Harry defiantly—which is a lot of staring up since Harry practically towers over her.

 

Harry takes this as an opportunity to take the piss, “Yeah, here-” Harry pokes her in the cheek first, “-here-” Then Harry pokes her in the forehead “-and all over here.” At this, Harry takes his entire hand to smudge her face up, to dramatise his point.

 

“Oh fuck off.” Jasmine sneers, pushing his hand away.

 

Harry chuckles at her lame response, “You look like an emo clown with that shit on your face” He taunts, shoving past her and going straight to the sink to wash off the sleep from his face.

 

Jasmine, not one to stand down, turns to him with one more insult on her tongue “If this is the humour Justin was subjected too, I don’t blame him for cheating on you.”

 

Harry’s light-hearted mood evaporates in seconds at the mention of his promiscuous ex. Turning to his sister with rage practically oozing out his body, he growls, “How ‘bout you say that again, eh? But how ‘bout this time with ants scrambling out of your ears.” He pulled out his wand to amplify his point.

 

That's all it took to have Jasmine quaking, even squeaking when she saw the wand be drawn. She immediately runs down the hall to god-knows were, finally leaving Harry alone.

 

Harry turns back to the mirror to continue his morning routine, ignoring the pang in his heart—the type that came when one remembers their boyfriend of 2 months snogging a random 7th year in a random alcove.

 

“HARRY JAMES POTTER, GET DOWN HERE NOW!”

 

The yell was not a surprise; Harry expected Jasmine to rat. But Merlin be damned if he is about to be yelled at with the taste of morning breath.

 

Harry rebelliously came downstairs 5 whole minutes after he’d been called—yes, he counted. A sight he has become used to greet him.

 

His father, James Potter, puts on a faux strict face once he caught sight of Harry, knowing damn well Harry can see the amusement in his eyes.

 

While his mother, Lily Evans-Potter just looks mad .

 

Harry turns to the cause of it all and glared daggers at his little sister. Who is just sitting there hiding behind her cereal but Harry swears he can see the evil smirk that’s being hidden by a bowl of Wizard O’s.

 

“Harry….” His dad begins but Harry cuts him off.

 

“How am I the only one that sees what she’s doing!” Harry exclaims, pointing accusingly at Jasmine, who immediately puts on a victimised expression once everyone turned to her, “See? Pure evil!”

 

James tries again, to begin what he had been saying, “Harry…”

 

But once again he’s interrupted, but this time by his wife, “Harry James Potter how can you be so cruel! She’s your little sister; you should protect her...”

 

Harry closes his eyes as to tune out the rant, having heard it one too many times.

 

Only tuning back in when he feels someone twist his ear, then it being yanked down so to make him bend down with it. And to no surprise, when he opens his eyes, he is met face-to-face with his mothers' angry glare.

 

“Are you able to  listen to me from all the way up there?” She questions rhetorically—referring to Harry’s growth spurt for the thousandth time since Harry got it.

 

Harry nods obediently, which caused more pain onto his already in-pain ear.

 

“You sure?” Lily questions again but this time with an extra twist to his ear as if wanting to confirm Harry is listening to her.

 

“Yes, mom! Please let go, I’m sorry!”

 

Lily finally lets go and Harry straightens up as his hand immediately goes to comfort his aching ear. Even with only one good ear, he can hear Jasmine giggling from her spot on the table.

 

Luckily, before he could argue ‘on the unfairness’ , Lily goes behind Jasmine and smacks her over the head which catches the girl by surprise.

 

Jasmine looks like she is about to ask what she’d done, but Lily cuts her off, “Stop starting fights and then snitching once you lose.”

 

It’s Harry’s turn to smirk, but it disappeared when he remembers something.

 

“Shit, I'm late!!”

 

He expects his family to have the same energy but they all looked confused.

 

All taking a look at the clock and seeing that it's only  8 o'clock in the morning before redirecting their attention onto Harry—who’s gobsmacked himself. Without a warning, he rushes to his room and returned with his alarm-clock that has 11:30 blinking in bright red numerals.

 

“That is odd,” James speaks, breaking the silence.

 

“I think I know the culprit.” Harry doesn’t even hesitate to shout out the person-in-questions name, “Leo! you little shi-” Before Harry can finish his sentence, Lily hits him on the shoulder to stop him.

 

“You're being loud, Harry.” his mom explains, defending her blow. “And your brother’s asleep, so don’t wake him u-” It is now Lily’s turn to be interrupted, this time by the small pitter-patter of little feet coming down the stairs.

 

Leo Potter appears from behind the door, adorably wiping his tired eyes as his tiny body stumbles with sleepiness.

 

“Mhm, yes mommy?”

 

He looks like a precious angel unable to do any wrong, especially with his round, smooshable, light brown face. His hair is messy—and that isn’t due to him waking up but he makes it seem like it is—and perfectly covered his huge hazel eyes. Just like a tiny, angel made of pure innocence, rainbows and shit.

 

Harry wouldn’t lie, the boy was good.

 

He looks a lot like Harry did when he was his age—maybe that’s why Lily fell for his obvious charade.

 

She immediately goes to hug the boy—practically shoving Harry out the way as she embraces the little boy in her arms and in her unconditional love.

 

“Did mean old Harry wake you up?” She asks softly as she delicately cards through his hair.

 

“Yes, mommy,” he answers innocently, completely contradicting the evil smirk he has on behind her back, “it scared me a lot, mommy.”  Dramatically squeezing her in a frightened manner.

 

“My poor baby…”

 

Harry can only watch helplessly as his mom falls for this bullshit.

 

“Umm, let’s not forget he snuck into my room and touched my stuff,” Harry speaks, trying to get his mother’s mind back to subject at hand, but she ignores him to coo at Leo instead.

 

A heavy thump is placed onto his back, before the culprit spoke, “ahh, isn’t this ironic?” Harry turns his attention onto his dad that ditched his paper to stand beside him. James looks nostalgically at the scene in front of them.

 

“What do you mean?” Harry asks with a bushy brow raised up in confusion.

 

“Do you think you weren’t like that?” He answers, indicating to Leo who’s at the dining table, licking his cereal at Jasmine while Lily makes him breakfast, “Harry you were evils incarnate. You used to sneak your broom out, fly it really high up, then jump off it and say I let you have it.”

 

Harry can’t help but smile at that memory, actually recalling that.

 

“You also used to tear up paper everywhere and then said Moony popped up and did it, even though it was mid-afternoon.”

 

He recalls that too.

 

“You once blamed Padfoot for shitting in the yard when you di-”

 

“Ok, that’s enough dad.” He sure doesn’t recall that one and hopes he never will. ‘Man, I gave Sirius shit, literally.’ Harry chuckled at his own internal shitty pun. Ay, he did it again.

 

“Fine, fine, all I’m saying is that wait 4 years, and your mom will stop loving him like she did you and Jasmine.”

 

Harry likes the idea of that, even though in 4 years, when he’d be 20, Harry knew the grudge will still remain.

 

“Wait, does that mean mom doesn’t love me and Harry anymore?” Jasmine wonders after overhearing the conversation.

 

Both James and Lily answer the question at the same time,  “Yes.” “No!”.

 

Lily glares at James who’s grinning at his kids shocked/hurt faces, whacking him with a spoon as she simply says, “I love all my kids. It’s just that Leo is so little and both of you, well...aren’t. I mean Harry’s in 6th year for Merlin's sake! In a year he’ll be leaving me!”

 

“Damn right I am,” Harry unhelpfully replies, earning him a smack behind the head—this time from his dad, “I mean,  damn right I am... not leaving you. I’ll always  visit and stuff.” He looks at his father for approval to avoid being hit again but he just rolls his eyes.

 

“Anyways…” James begins without actually finishing, indicating someone should change the subject.

 

Luckily not someone but something else did. The floo roars, telling them someone had entered their home.

 

No one bothers to go look at the visitor, knowing already who it is.  And to no one's surprise, Sirius Black trudges into the dining room with a dog-like pout on his face.

 

“Moony’s left me!” Sirius exclaims even though no one asked.

 

After a mediocre silence James decides to say something, “Ok.”

 

Now, even though it looks like the Potter family doesn’t care—and they don’t—it’s for good reason. Since Remus decided to become the DADA professor, Sirius has made it a tradition of coming over to their house on the first day of Hogwarts and whining.

 

Lily pokes Harry to get his attention and whispers, “Harry, didn’t I tell you to change the Floo wards to avoid this?” She defines “this” by indicating the wallowing Sirius who is currently blowing his nose into Lily’s fancy napkins.

 

“You take my wand every night after 9 pm. I couldn’t if I wanted to.” And Harry had really wanted to.

 

“I take your wand because when we didn’t, you set the Dursleys shed on fire in the middle of the night.”

 

“Technically I used Dad’s wand for that one.”

 

Lily glares at her son but a small smile remains on her face, “ Oh, shut up you.” She says softly.

“Well, I’m gonna go,” Jasmine announces, with one more disgusted look at Sirius as she struts off.

 

They hear a muffled address being yelled before the Floo roars, signifying the girl has left. “Who pissed in her tea?” Sirius sniffs and glares at the floor the girl had walked on.

 

Harry can’t help but snort at that.

 

Jasmine and Sirius never got along. Like never. According to his dad, Sirius was the only one Jasmine would throw up on and that didn’t stop till Jasmine turned 8. Which is ironic because Harry didn’t get along with Jasmine’s godfather; but technically, who could get along with someone as mean as Severus Snape.

 

“Imma go too; need to save a booth for the gang.” Harry sneakingly excuses himself only to be stopped by his mother, who has a very sad look on her face.

 

“You're leaving me too?” She says pitifully.

 

“Come again?”

 

“Oh, you are! All my chicks are leaving me to fly away into the sky! Too grown for ol’ mommy aren’t they. How….”

 

Harry is at peak confusion level, completely unsure of what is going on.

 

“I’m still here mommy!” Leo tries to cheer her up only to be shut down.

 

“This isn’t about you, Leonard !” She says harshly, causing the normally smug boy to shut up with a gasp.

 

Having seen enough, Harry tries to sneak past the smaller woman, “Sooo, I'm gonna go…” he makes it past, but a soft hand grabs his wrist and he is forced to look back.

 

He tries not to look into his mom’s green eyes and fails miserably and is forced to be emotionally guilt tripped through visual eye-contact while the woman asks wistfully, “Are you sure...I can't drop you off?”




That’s how Harry ends up in this situation.

 

“Mom, please stop,” Harry whispers to the ginger woman currently re-re-tying his tie. She ignores him and hums to herself as she re-readjusts the Gryffindor tie, Harry tries to ignore the giggles coming from the group not far from him and whispers to her again, “you’re embarrassing me.” but no dice.

 

The woman just would not stop.

 

Harry soon realizes that his mom had begun to say stuff while she tries to make him look ‘professional’

 

“Now Harry, this year is gonna be different. No pranks, no secret chamber, no sneaking out, no detention, no letters from the school, or Merlin help us, the ministry…” another one of those lectures  Harry has heard over 100 times, so naturally, he blanks out the sound of his mother—a technique that took him a long time to perfect— as he surveys the platform.

 

Platform 9¾ was as usual, bustling with life as it normally would on the first day but it seemed...fuller. He notices a specific small group of students that are what many would call stunning—both boy and girl. He sends them an awkward smile which causes flirty laughs to be exchanged. They are wearing a light-blue uniform and he recognized the uniform from a magazine cut-out that Hermione had attached to her very lengthy letters. He could recall Hermione talking about some French school over her letters but he’s not sure of the name; Hermione's letters were so filled to the brim with boring information, he couldn’t be blamed for skimming through.

 

Boxbatrons, Bowbaton, Bar-BEAUXBATON! ’ Harry cheers himself for remembering the name. Surprisingly, it takes Harry longer than it should for him to notice that there are a few more beauxbaton students in the area.

They are all in groups chatting in their language and are all beautiful—not that they all look alike but have something special that makes them all appear beautiful in their own way.

 

He thought he’d observed enough and was gonna return to his mother when he spots him .

 

He is the only Beauxbaton student by themselves. Even with his head in a book, he strolls through the crowd graceful enough that it is like the crowd unconsciously parts for him. Even though he would look up and greet the other peers of Beauxbaton—and a few lucky Hogwarts students—he is clearly by himself and waiting for someone; he’d look around every few seconds, showing Harry his huge grey eyes before returning to his book.

 

Harry is astonished.

 

The boy is stunning, all pointy and aristocratic like he is carefully carved out of the palest of stone.

 

He reminds Harry of an angel, especially with his longish, silky, blond hair that has been neatly braided back, and his luminescent, pale skin. Harry studies the little habits he is doing; what most people would most likely not notice at first glance. Every time he looks up his cheeks turns a more vibrant pink tint, flustered by his own confusion or maybe by annoyance. plump pink lips that he bit frequently; a habit Harry studied for...reasons. He reminds Harry of those porcelain dolls his mom used to own and while in retrospect, those dolls are creepy, this boy made him see the beauty in them.

 

Harry’s mind is going haywire at the sight of the boy alone.

 

Fuck me he’s stunning, Merlin I’d sell my broom to get 5 minutes of his time.  I wonder what his name is? Probably something posh like...Alistair or...Dominic. He looks posh, like pureblood posh. FUCK, he’s exactly like them perfect pureblood beauts that one magazine article described; all pretty, prim and proper. Hold up, didn’t Hermione say that that article was rude and objectifying. Shit, she did! I mean, she is right that article was shitty and horrible and—Wait! Am I objectifying them by finding him attractive??? Fuck I am! Bad Harry! Ok, ok he is a pretty person who may or may not be pureblood and that has nothing to do with his attractiveness and I should no—’

 

“Harry James Potter have you registered a single thing I’ve said!”

 

Harry’s eyes blink owlishly as he looks down upon his mother whose face is turning almost as red as her hair in annoyance. He blinks once again as he looks around, realizing in his moment of thought(s) many things have happened. The lonely angel has finally found whom he’d been looking for and there were a lot of them. Harry counted 4 new teenagers surrounding the boy. 2 boys, 2 girls and they all have the face Harry normally have while being told off and Harry would guess—even without seeing the blond—that he is probably the one telling them off.

 

Harry decided to at least pretend to listen to what his mom is saying nodding along to every word the woman says, while stealthily looking over her. It is only when the blond is suddenly being pulled along by his friends towards the trains that Harry panics. Impulsively he begins to prepare to leave.

 

Bending down, he kisses his mom on the cheek, stopping her in the midst of whatever she’d been saying and quickly throws an, “I love you, goodbye,” while excusing himself by saying something about missing the train as he follows the blonds group through the train doors. Stopping, he turns towards his mother one last time, and gives her a goodbye smile, before quickly scurrying after the group.

 

Not seeing his mom look lovingly at him and sighs wistfully, “Just like his father, always in a rush.”

 

Harry is literally right behind the group, and he slowly follows them. Completely unsure of how to approach the situation, he mentally has a conversation with himself.

 

Hey, do I know you?’ Nope, what do I say if he says no? ‘Sup, I would love to get your name.’  He doesn’t even know yours. ‘Well, I knew Beauxbaton was pretty but you knock ‘em out the park’ Is this a cheesy movie or something? ‘So—

 

“Draco, holy fuck is that you!?” A voice Harry recognizes pulls him out of his thoughts. He only has seconds to stop before he roughly bumps into Pansy Parkinson who has chosen to stick her head out of one of the compartments right in front of his way. Harry realizes that the name Parkinson called is the one that got the attention of the beautiful blond, whose head turns to see who called him, and Harry is not messing when he hears the name repeat in his head as the blond looks at him. Well, not him, technically Parkinson, but he is in that general direction.

 

“Pansy? Swear, that’s you.” Harry is shocked by the blond's voice. Don’t get him wrong, it’s beautiful to the ear—almost melodic— but it is perfect English. As heard from the Beauxbatoners he’d passed, a majority of them didn’t speak English but this boy spoke it fluently.

“Draco, qui est-ce?” One of the girls asks. the girl is pretty and has dark hair.

 

“Un de mes amis.” Ok, he speaks French too. He is bilingual. Harry guesses that make sense.

 

“Désolé, ma français n’est pas aussi couramment.” Alright, even Parkinson speaks French. Harry is getting kind of awkward just standing there as their foreign conversation continues.

 

“De quoi tu parles? C’est parfait.” The other girl comments. This one is tall and tough looking compared to the delicate looking dark-haired girl.

 

“Anyways, Pansy, would you like to join us?” Draco—Harry cheers that he actually knows his name—asks, thankfully in English. Parkinson looks into the compartment as if unsure before turning back with a sad smile and nods. The  Slytherin goes towards the group who rebegin their conversation back up in French and Harry swears Pansy and Draco look back at him and Draco actually smiles at him. Strange, he must get his glasses fixed.

 

Harry is about to head towards his groups' usual compartment before he hears a sound coming from the compartment Parkinson had just been in. He almost leaves but curiosity gets the best of him. He opens the door and shock is not a strong enough word to describe what he sees.

 

There is his best friend, Hermione Granger, looking up at him, her shirt unbuttoned, and her socks halfway on. Her brown eyes are equally as wide as Harry’s green eyes and for what seems like forever they say nothing.

 

Till Harry breaks, “What in the flying fuck?”

 

This causes Hermione to remember herself and the girl tries to look as composed as one could with their clothes undone, “Now I can explain.”

 

It takes every will in Harry’s body, not to faint.





Chapter Text

 

Draco is not having a good day. He is currently by himself in a foreign area waiting like a fool for his idiotic “friends”. Draco is sure he planned everything perfectly but he feels like hitting himself when he recalls a slight setback: his friends are fucking morons. Draco can’t help but curse them internally for making him have to do the old “pretend-to-read-so-you-don’t-look-like-a-loner-trick” and man, is he pissed, ‘ Like how can a whole group of 6th years not have enough brain cells to find a fucking train stop, what kind of stu—

 

Draco, is that you? Hey! ” Looking up, Draco smiles politely at a brown haired girl he is pretty sure is in his potions class before returning his head back into the book he’s pretending to read.

 

‘-hat kind of stupidity possesses those 4?? Oh yeah! I forgot they all have 2 brain cells and I forgot to give them one back! When I get my hands on them I’m gonn—Oh he’s cute.’ Draco’s violent thoughts are completely wiped away when he spots a boy that’s currently being told off by an older, red-headed woman while the boy just looks lost; however, that doesn’t manage to stop him from being drop down sexy, ‘Tall, fit, messy hair, clear brown skin, and stunning green eyes. If all English guys were close to as handsome as this guy is, I’ll move to Hogwarts.’ Even his hideous spectacles don’t do anything to lessen his sex appeal.

 

‘Merlin, he definitely plays quidditch but I oddly feel like I know him. I’d sure like to get to know him~’ Yep, Draco is just about forgetting the whole reason he had been mad and then he feels someone tap his shoulder. With a small, dreamy smile he turns towards whoever it is, and his giddy look is immediately wiped off when he sees who tapped him.

 

His once bright silver eyes manage to turn a very dark shade of grey as he lifts an unimpressed eyebrow at the 4 teenagers currently standing in front of him.

 

Err, hey .” Chantelle is the first to speak mostly out of guilt. She honestly had not expected it’ll take to long to get there, but she had forgotten  to remember to add the fact that she had to play babysitter to 3 annoying rich kids who refuse to go outside the country of France, “I don’t have to actually explain myself, right? You know it’s not my fault.”

 

Draco has to give her that, the girl could always know what he is thinking of, and turns to the remaining three who have been probably trying to blend into the background.

 

Don’t speak in English to confuse us!

 

The first one to speak, Jade Duval, Draco already has his eyes pre-rolled for whatever this girl has to say. The girl keeps her nose held up high, obnoxiously flicking her long black hair behind her shoulder. One would think that Draco and she should be close friends; they’re practically the same: same height, same hobbies, blood purity, same fashion sense. They’re even both Veelas. It’s perfectly aligned that they become soul siblings but sadly fate is not always right. Draco cannot stand Jade Duval, and the feelings are happily returned; only if people won’t keep pushing them to hang with each other, then Draco wouldn’t have to deal with her tempers or rants. It also doesn’t help that the only reason Jade dislikes Draco is because of a boy —well... there’s a bunch of other reasons but that's the main.

 

Yeah, it’s not fair. ” This boy to be exact.

 

Lucas Bertin. Oh, what words could be used to describe Lucas Bertin. Smug, perverse, thick-headed, narrow-minded, egotistical...the list could go on and on and Draco still won’t have a single nice thing to say about the boy. Well, that not entirely true. There is one thing he would say: Handsome. Lucas is an incredibly handsome boy, nice-styled dark hair, chiselled face, tanned skin and pale green eyes. Still, that one pro couldn’t possibly outweigh all of his cons and Draco stuck by his rule as considering Lucas “a-last-man-on-earth” kinda hookup. Oh but no matter how much Draco explained that Jade refuses to believe Draco does not want her “ Lukie-Wukie ” but anyways.

 

I-I understood what they say. ”  All eyes turn to the meek voice that spoke up.

 

Lucas narrowed his eyes at the owner of the voice, “ no one cares, Matthieu. ” And like that the owner of the voice cowers back to silence.

 

Matthieu Ruiz, Draco can’t help but sneer at the cowardly boy. A long time ago, Draco used to pity the boy, wondering how someone could let a jerk like Lucas treat them that badly for so many years. He had only recently learned Matthieu is Lucas’ cousin—not that he could’ve guessed it, the two looked nothing alike. Lucas is handsome and tall while Matthieu is less than 5” and resembles a chipmunk—and the only reason Lucas lets him hang out with him is that his mother forces him too. Draco hates that, how can someone choose to hang out with someone who clearly wants nothing to do with you and you just accept that treatment. He refuses to pity a boy that clearly does not want to be helped.

 

At least you’re all here now, ” Draco says curtly before dramatically slamming his book shut, “ but if any of you make me resemble a loner again I will remind you why my name means dragon, understand? ” All nod, no argument.

 

Chantelle first studies everyone before deeming it proper to joke, “ Great now let's go hunt for some English honey ~ ” She grins before looping an arm through Draco’s and tugs him towards the train excitedly, causing him to laugh.

 

All you ever think about is sex, Chantelle, ” Jade says coldly as she loops her own  arm through Lucas' and follows after them—completely ignoring the fact that Matthieu had to be shoved out of the way for Jade to reach Lucas, “ me and my Lukie are too loyal to think of that, right Lucas? ” She turns to the boy who’s currently smiling at a group of Hogwarts girls. Annoyed, she kicks him and Lucas being Lucas,  yelps dramatically. He can only nod to whatever question Jade may have asked him to avoid receiving another hit. The scene makes the other two—Matthieu could never laugh at Lucas. Never— laugh at the other boy's expense.

 

They are halfway to the other side of the train hallway when someone calls for Draco, “Draco, holy fuck, is that you?” Draco immediately turns to the caller only to see someone Draco didn’t think he would ever see again.

 

A huge smile bloomed on Draco’s face as he sees Pansy Parkinson, who was once his best friend but that was a long time ago. Draco wouldn’t lie and say he’s isn't having a hard time recognising the girl, but it has been 5 years. Pansy really glowed up from the round, pug-nosed, bratty 11-year-old Draco had to originally force himself to like before actually grew to like her. Her nose is still pug-like but it seems to add a bit of uniqueness to her pretty face, her figure, of course, improved from how she was as a child.

 

He is so shocked he doesn’t even notice that the handsome boy from the train platform is right behind her.

 

“Pansy? Swear that’s you?”

 

He feels Jade appear beside him, mentally assessing Pansy, “ Draco, who is this? ” her “superior than thou”  voice is put on, meaning she considers Pansy a threat. Draco tries to not roll his eyes.

 

A friend of mine, ” Draco snaps.

 

Sorry, my french isn’t as fluent. ” Draco gives her a sympathetic smile. He doesn’t blame her for feeling nervous under the dark stare of Jade Duval.

 

Luckily, Chantelle is there. “ What are you talking about? It’s perfect. ” Draco can feel the tall girl lean towards Pansy. It’s a slight movement but as her best friend, Draco knows that Chantelle non-verbally notes Pansy as one of the ‘English honey’ she talked about. But not if Draco has anything to say about it.

 

He gives Chantelle a warning side-eye as he says, “Anyways, Pansy, would you like to join us?”

 

Oddly, instead of replying immediately, Pansy refers to something in the train compartment she was in before she agrees. Draco wants to question the odd actions but thinks that he and Pansy haven’t talked recent enough to interrogate her.

 

So he’ll ask tomorrow.

 

At the moment, Draco has more important questions to answer. He tries to be as low key as possible as whispers into Pansy’s ear, “You wouldn’t  happen to know the name of the hottie standing behind us?”

 

They both turn around and while Draco’s face is slightly smitten, Pansy has a sneer of disgust on her face, “How do you not know who that is?? You know what, I’m gonna do you a favour by keeping you in the dark.”

 

Draco turns to Pansy with a pout on his face but Pansy doesn't budge.

 

“Trust me Draco, I’m doing you a favour.”

 

Draco can’t help but let his mind run with who the mystery boy is, ‘ maybe he’s a playboy/bad-boy/werewolf/vampire/ crimina/per-’

 

Are we just gonna ignore that Harry Potter was just standing behind us?” Chantelle casually halts Draco’s thoughts from going any further. Everyone stops walking and turns to see if what Chantelle was saying is true but there is no Harry Potter behind them, well not anymore. Simply shrugging, they return to their hunt to find a compartment. Draco can’t help but continue to think about what Chantelle just said. His mind trying to compare the handsome boy to what he had been told the internationally known ‘boy-who-lived’ looked like.  His Uncle had told him that Harry Potter was “scrawny and awkward” looking but knowing his Uncle’s hatred for the boy, that description might be coming from his own personal point-of-view.

 

Well, from his point-of-view, Harry Potter is... wow. Now, Draco isn’t dumb enough to turn into one of those “Potter-heads” just because the boy-who-lived happened to be good looking; he just happens to now know the reason why so many branded themselves like that.

 

Draco just doesn’t understand why Pansy had not simply just told him; he would’ve found out anyway.  When they found an empty compartment, they did not hesitate to make themselves at home.

 

Draco watches Pansy’s expressions as she truly meets the people Draco has to surrounds himself with. Which means: Jade bitches about something to no one in particular, Lucas tries his best to retrieve whatever appendage has been captured by  the dark-haired Veela, Chantelle doing an amazing job at ignoring the constantly shuffling “couple” next to her and appearing incredibly unbothered—even though she’s this close to snapping—as she tries to engage in conversation with everyone else, Matthieu squirms in his seat due to being sat right next to...anyone really.

 

I can’t believe we will be seeing the Harry Potter, ”Jade finally says something that interests Draco, “ I bet he’s just as handsome as he is powerful.

 

Then he must be pretty fucking ugly, ” Lucas mumbles bitterly.

 

For a moment as everyone looks confusedly at the handsome boy due to his green-shaded comment, Chantelle manages to convey all their feelings in one word, “ Yikes.

 

Lucas snaps at that, “ What’s so great about him anyways!”

 

Other than the fact he defeated the Dark Lord when he was 1 ?? What were you doing then, besides pissing your nappies? ” Chantelle’s face looks like she’s hearing a funny joke, clearly finding amusement at how vexed Lucas looks when he knows he has no retort to that. She turns to the rest of them and grins, “ He’s also a nice guy and-

 

Lucas cuts her off, “ You act as if  you’ve met him.

 

I have met him, ” Chantelle corrects, “ he attended that quidditch camp for prodigies that you didn’t get into it because you suck balls

 

No, I didn't go because I had things to with my family, ‘Here, we go,’ everyone— except poor, new, and very worried Pansy—thought, “ You wouldn’t know what that is, would you? See, when parents don't hate their kids, they tend to hang out with them. I know  you’ll probably never get to experience, so I’ll be happy to explain more.

 

One can practically see the last part of Chantelle's restraint snap as her joking smile drops and her eyes darken. Before anyone could process it, Chantelle is at her full height in the small compartment. She yanks Lucas by the collar, and even the fit boy is unable to fight against the much stronger girl which makes the fear in his face very, very real. Jade immediately lets out a high-pitched screech and tries to pry the girl off him but that, of course, does...nothing. Matthieu tries to do his bit and back up his cousin but one glare from Chantelle has him sitting right back down. Pansy turns towards Draco and is completely shocked to see him calmly treating his nails as if a fight isn’t about to break out less than half a metre away from him.

 

“Aren’t you gonna stop them!?” Pansy asks, panicking, but Draco turns to her like a curious kitten, completely unaware to his surroundings.  Draco finally notices the fight and for a moment he just stares at his best friend as she prepares to knock Lucas out but is waiting for Jade to step out of the way.

 

Once that moment passes, he just shrugs and returns to his nails.

 

Pansy cannot believe what she is seeing, “but-” she is cut off by Draco holding up a perfectly manicured finger up to silence her. She tries again, “can’t yo-” finger once again, “now you’re pissing me of-” finger. Pansy would’ve tried again but this time a knock on the door stops her, it swings open, and the sweet trolley lady stands there, shocked at what she is seeing.

 

For a second no one says anything before the silence is broken by booming laughter. Chantelle draws everyone’s attention as she loses her shit to some invincible joke only she knows. She throws Lucas back onto his seat before collapsing back onto hers as her laughter causes tears to leak down her face.

 

When she calms down a bit, she speaks, “ You-you should ’ve-haha-seen your face! Jade had to protect you, oh my god-haha- pussy!

 

It takes a long time for everyone—except Draco who already guessed what will happen—to realize what just happened. Different complaints are made like:

 

Fuck you, Chantelle, ” and “ What if you had hurt my Lukie! Don’t play so rough! ” also “ Why are the French so fucking weird.

 

Chantelle ignores all of these and focuses her attention onto Draco who’s been trying to separate himself from the situation, “ Did you see hah-his face?? You can’t say that wasn’t funny!

 

I can, ” Draco says without hesitating, ignoring Chantelle’s annoyed pout. Looking around, he asks, “ Where's the trolley lady? I'm starving.”

 

The sound of wrappers being poured onto a makeshift table no one had noticed to be there. Matthieu stares at the floor as everyone stares at him for an explanation to why he has all this food, “ I ordered food while you were all laughing.

 

Draco notices him sweating as he waits anxiously for someone to speak but he doesn’t have to wait too long. “ Good lad Matthieu! ” Chantelle compliments before digging in. Even Jade and Lucas give him an appreciative smile which he preens at and even removing his eyes from the floor for a whole 5 seconds.

 

“Are they always like this?” Pansy wonders towards Draco as she witnesses Chantelle gross-out Jade by placing two liquorice wands into her nose.

 

Draco can only nod solemnly as he sucks his sugar quill.

 

“Can we take a walk?” Draco gives her a confused look before shrugging. They both get up and go towards the door just before they are stopped.

 

Where are you two going? ” Chantelle questions, Draco nods towards the outside and Chantelle pauses for a second before standing up herself. She fakes insult at the questioning look Draco and Pansy give her. “ What? I’m bored. ” That seems to be a suitable enough answer and they allow her to go with them.

 

“Where are we going anyway?” Chantelle questions.

 

Pansy just smirks, “Just checking on a... close friend of mine.”







Chapter Text

The walk towards their compartment is awkward. As one would expect, “whoops” is not a good enough reason to why you're messing around with a girl you claim to hate.

 

Hermione’s eyes dart to the boy with every step, getting nervous with how her best friend is so blatantly ignoring her, “Harry…”

 

“Don’t.” The only word he’s said to her since he heard her horrible excuse. For a second, Harry was happy to ignore the girl but with one look at how gutted Hermione looks just happen to be enough to break Harry’s very weak resolve, “I...I just don't get why you didn’t tell us. We’re your best friends.”

 

Hermione looks shocked at that fact Harry is speaking to her before gaining her cool, “I know that… I was gonna tell you guys. I really was,  but I was waiting for the right moment.”

 

“How long?” Harry asks.

 

“What?”

 

“How long have you two been...together?”

 

Hermione seems hesitant to answer but she does anyway, “About a year.”

 

Harry’s jaw hits the floor, he looks at her with a scrutinous stare which she cowers at. “Merlin Hermione, when was the right moment gonna be then?” He asks this rhetorically, of course, cutting her off before she could even open her mouth to answer, “Were you just gonna wait till you're both married and have two kids before you spill the beans, huh??”

 

“Well…” Harry knows from her response that she had been considering that idea.

 

“Hermione!”

 

“What do you expect me to say?! You two would never have liked her and you're proving more and more why I shouldn’t have told you!”

 

Harry is taken back at the outburst and for a second they just stare at each other; Harry gets a proper look at his normally calm friend and is confused at how hurt she looks. Harry makes moves to say something, maybe even apologize, but before he could get the words out, Hermione stomps off towards their compartment with a frazzled Harry right on her trail.



He’s miffed that Hermione won’t even let him try to understand, “OI! We’re not done!”

 

Both open the door roughly at the same time and are too busy arguing that they only realize what they just walked into when they hear two loud screeches.

 

Neville is bent in two after falling from Ron’s lap and getting wedged in between both chairs. With his fall, Neville had grabbed the closest thing which happened to be Ron’s tie, pulling the redhead down with him, and ironically Neville now forced Ron’s face right in between his legs. So now instead of sparing their friends from seeing whatever they were just doing, Hermione and Harry walk into something that looks way more R18.

 

While Neville’s face has gone a completely different shade of red and possibly melted his brain, Ron’s blush is less fatal and he can still try to come up with an excuse, “Umm, whoops.”

 

Well, no one said it wasis gonna be a good excuse.

 

After 10 minutes, they all managed to settle down. Neville is still unresponsive with his head buried into Ron’s side as the redhead tries to comfort him by rubbing his shoulder intimately. Neville is still not used to being known as ‘Ron’s boyfriend’ by the other two, let alone the whole school. Still, everyone guessed it will happen, it just took a bet, a hippogriff, and a golden snitch to make the couple happen...but that’s a story for another day.

 

Across from the happy couple were a not-so-happy couple...of friends. Hermione and Harry seem hell bent on staying as far apart from the other as possible—which is pretty difficult because they’re seating on the same bench and couldn’t technically faze through the wall.

 

“So...what’s wrong?” Ron asks as he stares at his two friends across from him, but he gets no reply, “come on, what’s going on?”

 

Harry wants to tell Ron everything and  he almost does but then he hears the way Hermione's voice hitches due to the question is enough to make him rethink, “Sorry we don’t exactly have  much to talk about after seeing you molest poor Neville.” He ignores the grateful look Hermione gives him for purposely changing the subject.

 

“Shut up man, you're just jealous,” Ron says, half-joking, “I feel bad though, I’m taken, and you guys are just some loners.” He adds an immature tongue wag at the end before laying a purposely dramatic kiss on Neville’s head. Hermione can’t help but laugh at her friend. Especially when Neville elbows him for displaying, even more, PDA than he’s ever done in life. Their conversations ease out from that. Hermione saddles back to sit close to Harry, a nonverbal way of saying “we’re good.”

 

It seemed as if nothing could go wrong. Highlight “seemed.”

 

The door to their compartment opened and at that moment, one could actually see the life drain from Harry and Hermione's eyes. Pansy Parkinson stands before them in her usual royal stature. Her pug nose looks down at them and maybe that is why Ron reacts the way he does.

 

“Parkinson!” If it isn’t for Neville pulling him down, the redhead would be towering the girl. Wouldn’t have mattered anyway, Parkinson has a way of making you feel like you were 5 inches tall when one tries to intimidate her. Her cocky smirk focuses on Hermione who turns her head as to avoid looking at the girl, but she immediately needs to change direction once she caught sight of the judging stare Harry is giving her and suddenly Hermione is caught between two faces she didn’t want to answer too. Calmly, she decides her best course of action is to simply face her feet.

 

Parkinson scoffs once she realizes she is not getting any reaction from the Gryffindor and decides to focus on the next person, who unluckily happens to be Harry.

 

“Oi, Potter,” Harry doesn’t even try to hide the shock at the fact that Parkinson is speaking to him.

 

Coughing awkwardly, Harry replies, “Em, yes Parkinson?”

 

The eye-roll from Parkinson is expected but still uncalled for, “Ugh why do you have to be so weird about things?”

 

“Oh, I'm being weird, how about yo—” “Harry!” Harry has stood up prepared to argue, only for Hermione to stop him. He gives her a ‘what the fuck’  look but Hermione doesn’t reply. Her brown eyes simply beg the boy to let it go and Harry being weak, concedes.

 

Groaning as he collapses back on to his seat, he turns back to Parkinson and glares, “What do you want Parkinson?”

 

“A friend of mine is, um, give me a sec,” Parkinson leaves the doorway and closes it, and the four simply stare at it before it is reopened but this time with not only Parkinson but with another teenager in hand. Harry gets a good look at the person and can’t believe what he’s seeing. Currently scolding Parkinson in French for tugging on him, is the blond beauty from the train station. He barely registers what Parkinson says next, “my friend here— arrête de lutter —wants to meet you.”

 

Draco—Harry recalls that's what his name is— seems shocked at what Parkinson said and begins to complain, “Je n'ai pas dit ça !” but is stopped by an elbow to the side from Parkinson. She pulls the blond close to her just as he’s about to say something else and whispers something that calms him down.

 

Huffing, Draco seems to concede and much to the unluckiness of Harry’s already panicking nerves, decides to sit next to Harry while Parkinson sits next to Hermione. Meaning both Gryffindors sandwich the two in the middle.

 

Now Harry wants to say something but his brain seems to think that this is the perfect chance to go on vacation.

 

The words Harry does muster up, get stuck in his throat halfway through and forces Harry to go into a random coughing skit. Which causes everyone's eye to turn on to him, and if that isn’t mortifying enough, Draco pats him on his back like you would do when trying to burp an infant.

 

“Are you okay?” Draco asks gently with a sweet smile as he leans close to Harry's face, causing Harry's already noticeable blush to become even more noticeable, “Do you want some water?”

 

“Yeah Potter, do you want some water? ” when Parkinson asks, it makes Harry cringe at her mocking tone, and to make things worse, her claw-like nails grip his sleeves and begin to tug him as she looks at him, “let's go get you some.”

 

Harry’s gut, heart, and common sense tell him not to go, but Parkinson’s grip on him had him believing he didn’t have a choice. So he goes.

 

They walk deeper and deeper into the train and only when they reach the most empty part of it, is when Parkinson lets go. For a whole minute, he and Parkinson just stare at each other.  Well, Parkinson is technically glaring at him and he is avoiding her eyes by looking at the floor. It’s only when she coughs does Harry look up and turns out he is right. Parkinson's glare does resemble a charging boar.

 

“Well?” Harry questions.

 

“I saw what you were trying to do.”

 

The statement confuses Harry, like a lot, “What was I doing? Choking??”

 

“Not that, dickhead,” Pansy steps closer as to get even more in Harry’s face, “How you’re practically drooling over Draco!”

 

Now that, Harry won’t take. He stands up straight to be at his full height, towering over the Slytherin who seems shocked but doesn't let it show that she is intimidated. She even glares harder at Harry.

 

“You can hardly say much!”

 

“Me?! What are you on about?”

 

“HOW YOU’VE BEEN FUCKING MY BEST FRIEND FOR A YEA—” before Harry could continue shouting, Parkinson’s same claw-like hands clamp over his mouth.

 

Harry guess he deserves that.

 

“Will you shut up,” Parkinson hisses with an anxious look on her face, “what if someone heard, you idiot!”

 

Prying her surprisingly stiff grip off, Harry responds, “There’s no one in this hallway, calm down.”

 

“Well, that’s where you’re wrong.”

 

Both Parkinson and  Harry jump at the sound of the new voice. The two look up at the same time to see who it is. Standing out of one of the compartments, a tanned, tall, brunette looks at them with a lazy smirk on. Something about her, buzzes something in Harry’s memories that he can’t quite put his finger on.

 

Till it hits him.

 

“CHANTELLE!” Both Parkinson and Harry shout at the same time before looking at each other sceptically.

 

Chantelle just chuckles, “that’s my name, don’t wear it out.”

 

Harry moves from Parkinson to greet the girl, “Merlin is growing the only thing you’re good at??”

 

“Is talking the only thing you’re good at?” Chantelle mocks back.

 

They both laugh at the same time, only to be interrupted. Parkinson’s cough is what got their attention, “Not to disturb you two’s so so sweet moment but how the hell do you two know each other?”

 

“Didn’t I say I went to Quidditch camp with him? I’m very sure I did,” Chantelle wonders before shrugging and throwing an arm over Harry’s shoulder like the old friends they are, “Anyways, he and I were in the same team and I cannot count the number  of times I had to carry this guy back to his own bed.” She accompanies the recall by ruffling Harry’s hair.

 

Harry pushes her away jokingly as he tries to defend himself, “excuse you, if I remember correctly, was it not you that kept getting in fights with the other team?”

 

“Then you must have been obliviated recently.” Chantelle shoots back.

 

“Sure.”

 

They continue to chat and tease each other before once again being interrupted by a disgusted Parkinson, “Again I say, you two are very sweet but Potter and I were actually discussing something before you arrived.”

 

“Oh, how you’re sleeping with his best friend,” Chantelle states bluntly, only to be decked in the shoulder by Harry.

 

“Will you shut up!” He warns.

 

“You shouted it first! Scared the fuck out of me and my new friend.”

 

Both Harry and Pansy process Chantelle’s sentence at the same time and together, they scramble to shove the girl to the side as to find out who her ‘friend’ is.

 

In the compartment, clawing at the window like a bird trying to escape their cage, is a certain Padma Patil who looks like she only put her uniform on a few seconds ago. She awkwardly turns to them once she realizes there is nowhere else to run, “umm, hi.”

 

Her face soon turns to fear as Parkinson angrily approaches her, “Patil, of all the girls she could fuck, why must it be a chatterbox like you!”

 

Padma has no choice but to go defensive, “Excuse you, at least  I’m not a friend-fucker you...you friend fucker!”

 

“Wow, how creative of you, did you come up with that on your own?”

 

“Oh no not this time Pugsy Parkinson , this time I have the upper hand!”

 

“Do you? Do you really ?”

 

While the two teenage girls continue to bicker, Chantelle and Harry were glued to their spot in silence before Chantelle decides to speak, “Is it weird that I find this entire thing really hot?”

 

Another punch to her shoulder.

 

It takes both their combined efforts to separate the two and calm them down. They have no control over the death glares the two still shoot each other from across the compartment but at least no wands will be drawn—completely due to Harry collecting them.

 

Harry stands in the middle like a referee in case things turn sour once again and Chantelle relaxes in her corner as if this is all a show to her. Harry begins to speak, “I know you guys aren't the closest of friends—”

 

Parkinson’s huffing interrupts Harry, “Friends? She’s barely significant enough to be considered a classmate.”

 

“—Thank you, Parkinson, but not helping. As I was saying, you’re not ‘friends’ but do you know what you two are? Close to Hermione and—”

 

This time Padma interrupts him, “Actually, I never really liked Granger. I found her very annoying at times.”

 

That is all it takes for Parkinson to retort snidely, “Just cause she’s much better than you, does not make her annoying”

 

“You’re right; her know-it-all attitude, ridiculous hair, and huge teeth make her annoying.”

 

Ok, even Harry won’t take that but before Harry could defend his best friend, he was beaten to the punch. Parkinson stands up and towers over her with a look that would kill a basilisk, while a now intimidated Padma squeaks once she realized that not even Harry would protect her now. “Listen here Patil,” Parkinson’s voice is like ice and makes the atmosphere feel like there is a dementor on board, “If I find out you hurt Hermione by not keeping your ridiculously big mouth shut , I will ruin your life. Got it?”

 

Surprisingly Padma nods obediently before scurrying out of the compartment. Ignoring the confused shout of  Chantelle.

 

“Merlin, I don’t even know who Hermione is and I feel obligated to keep my mouth shut too,” Chantelle says after a moment of watching Padma run, checking her watch as she observes the time, before talking once again,“Oi, Pansy, I’m gonna bounce back to our compartment. Tell Draco where I’m at, alright?”

 

Parkinson only nods and that's all Chantelle needs before she begins going off on her way.

 

Now Harry and Pansy are left by themselves like they had planned to be but this time, both are not sure what to talk about. Until Harry had no choice but to say something, “What you did back there was cool. I guess I don’t need to tell you to never hurt Hermione, huh?”

 

“Oh trust me, she needs no protection.”

 

Harry can’t believe it but he actually chuckles at Pansy Parkinson, “Yeah, don’t I know it.”

 

Pansy sighs dreamily as if lost in her own thoughts and Harry can't believe what he is thinking but he honestly does suspect that Parkinson truly cares for Hermione. And this is not just because he is a bit scared of her now.

 

They actually talk as they walk back to the compartment and Harry would die before he admits Parkins- Pansy is not the worst person in the world. Maybe just maybe, him and her could become friends.

 

They opened the door and are hit with the loud sound of laughter coming from the 4 teens there . Ron stops laughing midway but his face is still split in two with a grin once he catches sight of Harry, who is very confused. Ron then turns to the group and says, “And he never went towards unicorn again, ain’t that right Harry?”

 

Harry’s face pales as he realizes which story his ‘best mate’ has just told and he feels his stomach drop. He calmly closes the door and cracks his knuckles as he comes to a conclusion. He is so glad he decided to befriend Pansy, because she’s going to need to replace Ron in less than 5 minutes.

 

“Wait...Harry....calm down...it was just a joke! Harry? Harry? Harry!”

 

Make that 2.