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17.

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Chapter Seventeen: 

Harry realises, a bit too late, that wearing the necklace made from the philosopher's shard is a strong declaration of… something towards Voldemort. And whatever it is, makes whoever knows about it, lose their fucking minds.

For instance, Barty Crouch Jr, who is supposed to be locked up in Azkaban but isn't -- and why isn't Harry surprised about that -- spots Harry between the crowd of wizards and witches, lowers his gaze towards the shard necklace and then promptly chokes on the glass of champagne that he's drinking. Barty turns red in the face and then abruptly turns around to face one of the Lestrange brothers -- Rabastan, if he's not mistaken -- and pulls on the other males sleeve. He says something that has Rabastan shaking his head and laughing. 

Barty, who looks just about done with the situation, lays his hand onto Rabastan's face and pushes his jaw to the side so that he's facing Harry’s direction. At once, Rabastan's laughter dies out. His dark eyes widen like saucers and his mouth falls agape. 

Smiling, Harry raises a hand and waves like the suicidal idiot that he is. 

Weirdly enough, Rabastan weakly waves back. 

"Harry," Hermione starts from somewhere behind him, tone exasperated, "who are you waving at?"

Harry turns to look behind him and blinks, somewhat caught off guard. "Oh. I'm waving at Rabastan. Lestrange. You don't know him."

Hermione's nose scrunches up. She eyes Rabastan across the ball room with narrowed eyes. When she turns back to Harry, her gaze is suspicious. "Yes, but how do you know him? Know Them?"  

"Uh," Harry fumbles awkwardly. "It’s a long story 'Mione--"

Abruptly, the girl steps right into Harry's personal space. There's a single breath between them and the tips of their noses are touching. Hermione's scowl is deep and annoyed. When she speaks, her words are purposefully slow, as if she's talking to a child. "Do not," she seethes, "call me that."  

"Why?" Harry tilts his head ever so slightly, the motion makes it seem like he's leaning in for an impromptu kiss. "Are you afraid of friendship? Dependence on another human being? Is it anxiety? Is that what it is? I can get you some anxiety pills if that's what you need. Probably--"

Harry stops his rambling when Hermione gets lifted into the air by oncoming hands. Her anger dims into confusion and Harry just stares because what . From beneath Hermione, Harry can see shiny shoes and dark grey robes. 

Rabastan's face comes into view from Hermione's shoulder. There's a cheeky smile placed on lips. "Is she bothering you, Little Lord?" He asks. His voice is nice, low and sort of gravely. 

Harry’s insides become instant mush. 

From behind Rabastan, he can just about see Barty -- his hand is outstretched as if he had been trying to haul Rabastan away and failed. His eyes are very, very, very tired. 

Understandable. Considering everything that's going on. 

"Uh, no, I mean," Harry flushes, "what. What are you doing? Oh my God. Put her down before she gains her composure and bites you. Or worse."