#gofp3

The dorm looked the same as ever. It was nice to be back at Hogwarts. It was home, more than Pivet Drive had ever been even if he still had to share sleeping arrangements with less than savory characters. But, Harry would take Malfoy’s bragging over Aunt Petunia’s twittering laugh any day.

            Harry was currently unpacking some of his things to the rhythmic drawl of Malfoy telling Crabbe and Goyle what he did this summer for what looked like, judging by Goyle’s face, the five hundredth time. Odds are they were right there with him for most of it anyway.

            Blaise, Harry noticed, somehow got even more attractive since last year. His dark skin seemed to glow as if he were on a beach enjoying the sun instead of in a dungeon lounging on his canopy bed.

            “You really must go to France one day, Potter,” said Blaise.

“Not all of us have a new stepfather with a villa,” replied Harry.

            “Yes, but I did invite you to join me, several times I might add.”

Harry shrugged, that was true. Blaise had sent him plenty of letters detailing his mother’s whirlwind romance with a wealthy French wizard and her decision to move them at least semi-permanently to the South of France. Blaise and his two younger sisters were now living in the lap of luxury, and letters that started out as “won’t you come down, Potter? Get yourself a taste of the good life?” And “Potter, the man has a yacht. I’ve already bought you a first mate cap.” Quickly became “Ariella and Jasmine are becoming quite overwhelming. Must every woman in my family be blinded by pretty things? Thank Merlin, I am immune to such flights of fancy. Come and assure me that I am the prettiest flower or my self-esteem my never recover.” Then “We’ll take care of the Muggles, don’t worry. Mother performs a wicked memory charm. Lockhart has nothing on what my mother can do when faced with someone’s very angry wife.” “Save me Potter,” the last one said simply, with a p.s. for levity, “I’m getting wrinkles.”

            Harry had gotten the point plainly enough. But as much as he would have liked to physically be there for his friend, there was no way that even Lockhart level memory charms would be enough to make the Dursleys forget their personal life mission of torturing Harry at every possible moment.

            “We’ve been all abuzz at the Manor. Father was quite envious that I would be attending Hogwarts this year with well….you know,” Malfoy said to Crabbe and Goyle, clearly begging for Harry to ask him what he was talking about. But Harry was used to hearing plans that didn’t involve him so he had learned to not to give a Hippogriff’s booty about things like that.

            “How were Jasmine and Ariella when you left?” Harry asked Blaise. From everything Blaise had ever told him about his sister’s it seemed as if the two girls, the twins were really quite something. Blaise launched into a rather complicated story about the girls, a summer dance recital they put on, and Blaise totally pulling off the tights he was forced to wear when Theo got out the newest issue of Quidditch weekly and let the other boys devour his older issues which he always seemed to have on hand. Harry drew Slytherin in the draw they had so he picked last months issue all about the World Cup.

            He opened and hoped probably in vain to see a picture of himself in its pages.

***

Harry was asleep the next morning at breakfast. Millicent kept having to nudge his side so he wouldn’t fall into his porridge. The dreams had abated somewhat while he was back at the Burrow, but last night with Quidditch Weekly open on his chest dark dreams had haunted him. Dreams of graveyards, headstones, and the feeling of anticipation.

            Harry kept waking, feeling as if someone stood ready to curse him just beyond his curtains. He thought about opening them, but the fact that Crabbe and Goyle slept with their curtains open quickly derailed that thought. So, he merely slept with his wand in his hand.

            Space was always at a premium on the first morning back as nearly everyone misses the food at Hogwarts and are eager to catch up with old friends so Malfoy, Crabbe, and Goyle were forced to sit on the opposite side of the table as Harry, Millicent, and Blaise. Malfoy may have grown taller this summer, but Crabbe and Goyle grew in every direction. The two boys nearly blocked all the space between them as they took a spot, leaving Malfoy with an open spot beside him. Harry wondered vaguely if Pansy had gotten what she wanted after how much she had unwittingly helped him and Sirius last year. It would only serve Malfoy right if he had to actually marry Pansy.

But as Malfoy wasn’t wearing a collar emblazoned with P.A.N.S.Y on it, then he doubted the blonde had gotten that far yet. He’d have to ask Millicent later what on Earth she had done to poor Malfoy to turn him into such a commitmentphobe. He’d likely get hexed for his trouble, but it would be worth it.

 The typical series of forgotten items rained down on the students at breakfast time and Malfoy got his usual deposit of sweets and cakes, but Harry wasn’t disappointed as he got a rather long letter from Sirius as he described a rather funny story of he and Remus trying to fix the kitchen sink. He also provided a brief update on his case, saying that he was still trudging along and that he had gotten someone, an American lawyer to take a look at his case. He also sent him something about his father. James favorite color was red.

An unfamiliar owl dropped something onto Millicent’s plate.

“Isn’t that a school owl?” asked Blaise, eyeing Millicent’s correspondence with the same look Harry was giving it.

            “From your betrothed?” asked Blaise. Millicent went to shake her head, no….when Goyle with a mouth full of food grabbed his heart as if he were having pains, and said, “So does this mean you’re rejecting my offer?”

            “What offer?” Malfoy demanded to know.

Goyle straightened a little in his seat. “Well, you know, Draco….Mom’s always quite liked Mil, and dad didn’t think it’d be a bad idea….”

            “To do her a favor,” Pansy said, finally taking her place by Malfoy’s side. She looked the same as ever though perhaps there was something different about her nose? More uppity? Harry wondered. Or perhaps it was just the way she was staring down at Millicent that made her look so pugish.

            “She broke a serious engagement with a prominent family. No pureblood in their right mind would give her an offer now. The only reason Goyle’s mother offered is because Bulstrode here has hips like a bull and Goyle children come out that size.” She motioned to Goyle who was steadily eating his eggs and bacon.

            “So, you do the math on why that was on offer. And besides my mother told me that your father talked some sense into her.” Pansy smiled ruefully. “Can’t have a blood traitor marry into the family. Wouldn’t want her staining the furniture. Though it appears mutts of the same street corner run together.”

            Pansy turned her gaze to Harry.

“How is Black doing by the way?” Pansy asked.

            “My godfather,” said Harry standing and holding out his hand for Millicent. “Is probably making out with Professor Lupin right about now. You do remember him right?” Harry eyed Nott who had been laughing quietly until then.

            “About yeah high,” said Harry, motioning. “Werewolf.”

Pansy rolled her eyes.

            “He’s quite happy too, now that my godfather is about to be freed completely and a real traitor is in jail. Who knows,” said Harry, grabbing a piece of treacle tart to go.

            “Maybe soon the Ministry and the rest of the wizarding world will pull their heads out of their arses and allow people to marry whoever the heck they want. Two men. A werewolf.”

            “A tainted pureblood witch,” Millicent kicked in.

“Hear! Hear!” said Blaise as Harry and Millicent walked away.