Title: No Hiding Place 3: The Cottage
Author: Rimau
Email address: rimaufic@yahoo.co.uk
Author's webpage: http://www.rimau.aeglos.org/
Fandom: Harry Potter
Pairings: Harry/Snape, Ron/Draco (Sirius/Remus)
Date: December 2002 - May 2007
Disclaimers: Not mine, borrowed without permission, am not making any money. Please don't sue. Lemon Drop?
Summary: -Does being a good guy mean you also have to be a nice guy? Draco is about to find out. Companionable silences and fist fights are a good way to hide deeper emotions.
Warning: This part contains mild violence, confusion about sex (not non-con really), explicit sex between men and as you can guess, angst.

Betaed by the wonderful Wolfsbride and Ria, with extra help from Jin Fenghuang. Big thanks to Allaire for her suggestions and corrections and to the Hekuna ladies, who were more than patient with me. All remaining mistakes are mine.

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No Hiding Place by: Rimau

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BOOK THREE
The Cottage

Part 1

Ron had never minded traveling via portkeys. He'd done it ever since he was a little boy, when people complained about the mess the Weasley family made every time they all traveled through floo. Nine people shooting out of a sooty fireplace was not the best way to keep the host's living room clean.

It was different for Harry.

Sighing, Ron rolled to his side, squinting his eyes in the dark. He could hear Harry's even breathing, but wondered if he was dreaming anyway. Sometimes the Draught of the Living Death didn't work well, even if it was brewed by a Potions master.

Like this one had been.

It had been a long day. Ron rolled onto his back, staring at the ceiling. Definitely a long day. It seemed like the morning with Hagrid's announcement that the Jarveys they were supposed to study were suffering from stress related rashes had occurred weeks, and not simply hours ago.

Things had seemed so normal back then. Studying for the N.E.W.T.s, bickering with Hermione. Trying not to stare at professor Pahicna too hard when she entered the Great Hall for lunch. Even though Ron still considered professor Lupin the best DADA teacher they'd had, he definitely thought their current one was the best looking.

Everything had gone downhill from that point. Ron wasn't sure what had triggered it. One moment he'd been talking to Seamus, making comments about Quidditch. The next, Harry was making a big ruckus, clambering to the main aisle. Trying to stop whatever stupid thing that drama queen Malfoy had planned.

Or at least that was what he'd thought at the time.

Malfoy. It all came back to that arrogant bastard. If he wasn't making fun of him and turning his life into a farce, he was destroying the peace and forcing them into an exile.

Ron refused to let himself think about what the blond menace had also done. He definitely didn't want to see anything good in him; mainly because all the seemingly nice things he was doing were a hoax. He just knew it!

And why the hell couldn't he sleep anyway?

He was sure everyone else in the cottage was asleep already. Harry was making a weird wheezing sound as he slept. Nothing new there. Malfoy had been in a drugged haze ever since they'd left Dumbledore's office, so he was probably sleeping somewhere as well. He didn't know about Snape, and frankly, didn't really care.

All he wanted was to get some sleep. Snore away the couple of hours before dawn.

The sleeping potion would have been an excellent solution. Unfortunately, he hadn't thought about it like that when Snape had offered it. He'd been too worried about Harry then; about the way his friend was really pale and shaking after that last trip via portkey.

He'd wanted to talk about it with Harry. Since Ron wasn't completely ignorant, he knew it was probably about something that had happened years ago. Neither he nor Hermione had ever asked about Cedric's death, but they could draw conclusions from what they'd seen and heard from others.

Snape had destroyed that good idea with his potions. Ron had been a bit surprised to see Harry actually look gratefully at the git. There should be no reason for gratitude, none whatsoever! Not when he and Harry were stuck in here with the worst two Slytherins in the history of Hogwarts. Not counting the original one who had kept pet basilisks or the one looking like one these days.

It was truly annoying. Especially now that he was lying awake here in the middle of the night. In the middle of nowhere. Feeling bummed.

Keeping his gaze focused on the ceiling, Ron tried to banish all thoughts from his mind. Wallowing wasn't really helping. It just kept him awake, pushing sleep even farther away.

This whole thing was just stupid.

Ron was still thinking morose thoughts about certain Slytherins and the idiotic mess they'd made later, when the moon was hanging low, and sleep finally claimed him.

The bright rays of the sun made their way slowly across the room, at first illuminating a path on the floor, then reaching the small bed. Unerringly, they shone into the sleeping boy's face.

Blinking, Harry tried to figure out where he was, and why was everything so darn bright.

It was never like this in the dormitory. The sun never shone in during mornings, and even if one was to take a nap during the afternoon, when it would get really bright in there, the beds had heavy curtains that could be drawn to keep out the light. But there were no curtains around this bed.

He stretched, wondering if he should just stay in bed until he figured out exactly where he was. His bladder didn't really approve of that plan, so he sat up. Seeing the plain wooden wall made him blink.

No. He was not at Hogwarts anymore.

Fuzzy memories of the previous day came back slowly. He could remember everything up to the lunch hour, including Malfoy's unbelievable actions. He remembered leaving Hogwarts; the sight of Hermione standing at the door with her robes billowing all around her was etched into his mind. Everything after that was a blur.

There had been hours in a small carriage. Then a small house, where they had flooed somewhere. From there, a walk to another house. Yet another flooing. The secrecy had been a bit annoying, but even Ron had seemed to understand the reason for it. They'd followed Snape and the nearly comatose Malfoy without questions.

Harry remembered the lone beer can in the middle of the road. Yes. Then there had been the portkeys. Three of them, to be exact. The can, a shoe, and a broken umbrella. Three unbelievably hard jumps through distance.

He shuddered. It had been awful. It didn't matter how much he disliked flooing, it was nothing compared to using portkeys. There were so many bad memories around travelling via portkeys. Death and destruction. Always seemed like he was to blame for all the carnage he left behind. Or took with him.

Swallowing against the flood of nightmares that never waited for him to be actually asleep, Harry got out of the bed. He looked to the left and saw Ron sleeping on the other bed, curled beneath his blankets. Careful not to wake him up, he padded to the door and sneaked out.

The floor felt cold under his bare feet. He didn't really care, the need to go was urging him on.

It was quiet in here. Harry walked to the only other door he could see and pushed it open. Squinting his eyes, he could see a small room with only one bed in it. A platinum blond head rested on the pillow.

Malfoy.

Since he really didn't want to deal with him right now, Harry backed away, and shut the door again. It didn't matter how messed up he'd been last night. Malfoy had been worse. By the time they'd reached their destination, the Slytherin had been as white as a sheet from all the vomiting.

Probably something to do with ingesting veritaserum on an empty stomach. Snape hadn't really explained. He'd just guided him away.

There was a linen closet next to Malfoy's bedroom. Nothing else.

Harry walked down the stairs, looking around in wonder. The small cottage seemed ancient. There were paintings on the wall, mostly landscapes, but also a few portraits. The people in them were asleep. Everything was quiet.

Downstairs, there was a living room with two old, but comfortable looking couches. A huge fireplace was on one wall. No logs could be seen anywhere near it. Next to the living room was a tiny kitchen that was followed by a dining area. Harry walked through it, wondering if there was actually something to eat around here.

There was more pressing business than hunger.

He passed by one more door. Hesitating for only a second, he walked to it. There were no wards set on the door, so he pushed it open slowly.

"You know, it's polite to knock when you go into someone's bedroom." No sign of sleepiness in the sharp voice. Snape was sitting on a chair, fully clothed, with a book on his lap.

Harry smiled apologetically. "Sorry about that. Didn't really know this is your room." He managed not to wince at the snort. Of course this had to be Snape's room. Where else would he be sleeping? "I was actually looking for the loo."

"There are no facilities inside the cottage. There's an outhouse. Go out of the front door, and then to the left." Snape gestured with his hand at that, as if not certain Harry could tell the difference between right and left. With some of his students, it really was a touch and go.

An outhouse? Harry's smile faded a bit. He couldn't remember ever using one. There was no way he would ask for instructions, though. He would draw the line somewhere, and this was it. "Thanks."

Snape raised an eyebrow at that, but decided not to comment. When Harry started to turn away from the door, he said, "Don't go wandering around. No one should go farther than the outhouse alone. None of us."

"Yeah." Harry nodded. There really wasn't such a thing as a safe hideaway for them. Not completely safe anyway.

He put shoes on, grabbed a heavier robe and stepped outside, looking around with curiosity. The trip here had been hellish, and he had no idea where they were. They could be anywhere. It looked a bit familiar out here, so he figured they were still in the northern hemisphere. Other than that, he didn't know.

The outhouse was a small one, but clearly visible due to the fact it was painted red. Harry took care of business, grimacing a little as he couldn't wash his hands right afterwards. There had to be a way to take care of that. Maybe a bail of water or something, so he didn't have to touch his wand with dirty hands. He settled with wiping his hands into grass outside.

Now that he wasn't in a hurry anymore, he stood outside the cottage and looked around. The place looked habitable. There were trees behind the outhouse; not enough to make a real forest, but seemed nice anyway. Some large boulders to one side. Bushes. Some kind of plants that looked suspiciously like heather.

Harry walked around the cottage. On the other side was a small river, flowing by slowly. Someone had molded the shore at some time, creating a place where clothes could be washed. Or people could bathe. There even seemed to be a pier there. He was eager to go and take a closer look, but knew that such disregard of Snape's words would be stupid.

He could go out on an expedition later with the others. No need to go and probably get lost straight away. He wasn't that curious about their surroundings.

Turning back to the rather pretty landscape, he surveyed the cottage for a moment. It looked even older from the outside. Obviously made of logs. Somehow reminding him of the Burrow, even though it was smaller, looking sleepy, frozen. As if no one had lived in here for ages.

No one probably had.

He kind of liked the cottage. It didn't seem intimidating. However, it wouldn't be easy to live here with Ron, Snape and Malfoy under the same roof. He wondered how long it would take until they got into their first fight. Not long, he guessed.

Harry went back inside, opting not to go back to bed. He didn't feel sleepy anymore. That was the up side of the sleep potion; you were always well rested, no matter what. Then if he went upstairs to unpack his trunk, he'd just wake Ron up, and everyone knew how cheery he was in the mornings.

He simply wasn't up to facing that right now.

Harry thought about going to see Snape again and use the quiet moments to talk about this whole thing. The decision to leave Hogwarts had been a sudden one, but he was sure it had been the right one. There were still many things that needed to be discussed.

It would probably be best to have that conversation with everyone present.

The loud growling of his stomach reminded Harry that he hadn't eaten a thing after lunch yesterday. Still wondering if there was anything to eat in the small kitchen, he went to investigate.

He didn't get farther than to the dining area. There was a sound coming from the kitchen, and a moment later a tray hovered towards him, clearly carried by someone who was muttering to themselves.

The small creature seemed to almost vanish under the huge tray. Harry stepped to help, lifting the tray on the table. As a reward, he got an angry glare from clear brown eyes.

Blinking, he stared at the house elf. From the simple dress -- that looked like it had been a table cloth in a previous incarnation -- he deduced that the elf was a female. An old, wrinkly female. Her skin was weathered, almost greenish in color. Her ears were a bit drooped, but she looked determined.

"Eppy will handle the tray." Her voice had a squeak in it, not the most pleasant sound. As an afterthought, she added, "Sir."

A rude house elf who didn't fawn over him? Harry wondered if she'd been Snape's personal assistant at some point.

It wasn't easy to stand back and watch Eppy set the table. Her hands didn't exactly shake, but she managed to make the whole thing look like there would be a pile of porcelain shards on the floor any moment now. She kept muttering to herself quietly as she put the tea cups on the saucers.

When she was finally finished, she stood there for a moment, wheezing. Her ears quivered with every intake of breath. "Is there anything else Eppy can do?" Once again the short pause before the sullen, "Sir."

"No thank you, Eppy." Shaking his head, Harry tried to keep his expression sober.

The only reply he got was a huff. Eppy took the empty tray and started to waddle towards the kitchen. It looked amazing, since house elves usually just vanished after finishing with their business.

As if lured by the scent of the tea, Ron pushed the door open a moment later, earning a baleful glare from the house elf. He stopped still at the doorway, making the two Slytherins following him bump into each other. It caused even more glares.

Harry managed to hide his smile until the house elf was out of the room. Then he grinned. "She acts just like Yoda." Seeing blank looks on everyone's face, he shrugged. "A Muggle thing."

Since his explanation produced one confused nod and two sneers, he sighed, and decided not to waste any of his admittedly few pop culture references on these people. They were hopeless. Instead of trying to explain more, he simply walked to the table. Eating was always a good distraction. At least it could hide a really uncomfortable silence if needed, and it definitely looked like there would indeed be one coming up.

Ron rushed to sit next to Harry. The thought of having to sit next to Snape and Malfoy wasn't really appetizing. Even though having the ferret sit across him wasn't all that great, either. Well, at least he kept his mouth shut, and his gaze on his plate.

That way Ron didn't have to waste time glaring at him.

This was beginning to seem like the field trip from hell. Almost two and a half months spent with them would be a nightmare, but Ron was glad he hadn't abandoned Harry. He could handle Malfoy and Snape. He wasn't so sure his friend could.

"Pass me the butter please."

Flinching at the cold command, Ron looked up at Snape. Then he focused his gaze on the small bowl of butter. No one made a move. Surely they didn't expect him to give Snape the butter? Not even though technically he was the closest person to him.

Snape raised an eyebrow at the bewildered expression on Ron Weasley's face. The fact that Harry was so obviously trying not to laugh wasn't really helping. Sighing, Snape repeated, "The butter. Please pass me the butter, Mr. Weasley. I'm certain such a task isn't beyond your capabilities."

"I... Sure." Feeling heat rise to his face, Ron grabbed the butter and then handed it over to Snape. Damn it!

"Mmh." The curt nod and the sound could be interpreted as a thank you.

Harry got up and reached for the teapot. He definitely didn't want to see what would happen if Snape asked Ron for tea as well.

He poured the tea, filling Ron's cup half way, leaving enough room for milk. After filling Malfoy's cup and his own as well, he placed the pot back on the table. Snape always wanted his tea dark, brewed so strong it made people spit. He didn't use sugar either, enjoying the tar in his cup unsweetened.

"Thanks." It was the first thing Draco had said since yesterday. He didn't look up from his cup.

The extremely unusual word made Harry blink. He could see how Snape looked pleased with the courtesies and wondered if that was why Malfoy had said it. "Oh... Well. You're welcome."

Ron waited for Malfoy to add something nasty. When he said nothing, he glared at him anyway. Sooner or later there would come the punch line, some kind of a cruel joke or a curse.

Keeping his gaze fixed on the table, Malfoy didn't say anything else.

"All right, then." Pushing his plate away from him, Snape glared at the three teenagers in front of him.

This wasn't exactly the way he'd envisioned his life; forced to play a nursemaid to students. He'd agreed with Albus' assessment of the situation, though. Staying at Hogwarts would have been foolish.

He didn't want to fight his own students, mainly because he knew his Slytherins. They would do anything to make sure the people who they were supposed to destroy would indeed suffer an agonizing death. He had known that when he'd seen young Malfoy get up and walk to him across the Great Hall. The sight had made him squeeze his wand hard, pointing it at the boy under the table.

On the outside, he'd appeared as cool as ever. On the inside, he'd felt sick. It had been the beginning of the end.

Then the impossible had happened. Draco Malfoy had turned his back on everything he knew.

Snape's dark gaze bore into the boy, wondering what he was thinking right now. He had no idea, for he had never had the courage to do anything like this. Spending weeks with him here in the middle of nowhere wouldn't be exactly hard. He was smart enough not to bother him with trivial chatter and would know to stay out of his way.

There would be things they needed to discuss, new guidelines to draw. For all of them.

He turned his gaze to the two Gryffindors, and allowed the sneer spread to his face. "We are going to spend the next several months here, but this is not exactly a vacation, gentlemen. This is not a hotel, and I am not here to make sure you're all entertained." Unless of course, they considered being left alone as entertainment.

Before Ron could stick his foot into his mouth by making a comment on that, Harry nodded and said, "Do you think we'll be safe here?" He had no idea if the others knew where they were. The landscape outside had looked familiar. Watching the sparse trees and the hillside covered in small bushes and heather had reminded him of home. Hogwarts.

Either they were still in Scotland, or they'd been transported somewhere in Siberia. He doubted the latter. Dumbledore wouldn't try to sneak them that close to Durmstrang.

"Of course not." What a foolish question.

"Huh?" This time Ron managed to get the sound out before anyone else had the chance to say anything.

"There is no place that will be completely safe for us, Mr. Weasley. Vo..." The familiar suffocating sensation prevented Snape from finishing the name. "The Dark Lord and his followers will do everything they can to kill us. Mr. Malfoy and I are traitors to their cause and we all know how much they want to see Potter dead."

What a strange thing to actually have anger raise at the thought. Snape had always been dispassionate about rescuing the hope of the wizarding world. He'd only done it because Albus wished it and because even though he didn't want to, he had felt he was in debt to the idiot child's father. That had been simply because of duty; it was different with this young man with the haunted eyes and the unexpectedly sharp wit.

No one said anything to that.

"Because of that, we can not drop our guard outside the house. There are wards around here, as there would be in every wizard home, but they do not reach very far. If you go anywhere beyond the outhouse, you should have someone to accompany you."

Draco blinked at the words. He didn't think he could really ask Snape to be his tourguide around the place, and he'd be damned if he gave the two Gryffindors the satisfaction of having to beg them for protection. That meant he'd probably have to stay at the cottage for the next months.

And what was an outhouse anyway?

"Keep your wands with you all the time. You should practice drawing them in haste and then aiming." Since there were no objections, Snape added, "Later on, we should probably train at dueling as well."

He knew that the Order had trained Weasley and Potter and that the young Malfoy was adept with both Dark Arts and the defense against them. Still, one was never too prepared.

Harry nodded at that. "Good idea." He couldn't be there to protect Ron all the time.

"Yes, sir." Draco didn't really know what good practicing would do. He was living on borrowed time, knowing he would be targeted as soon as they left here. No amount of training would make him strong enough to face the Death Eaters. Especially when he knew exactly who would be sent after him.

The only answer Ron gave was a grunt.

"Good." Reaching out for the teapot, Snape poured himself a cup of tea. Then he leaned back on the chair slightly. "There are also things we need to consider about our living arrangements."

He didn't wait for anyone to say anything. This wasn't exactly a conversation.

"You can do whatever you wish in your rooms. However, I will not tolerate any ruckus after dinner time. Is that clear?" The question was a threat, answered by three nods. "Good. If you need me, I will be in my room downstairs."

Ron didn't think he'd ever be desperate enough to actually go knocking there. Spending time alone with the greasy Potions master sounded about as fun as having Hagrid cook for him for the rest of his life.

Sipping from his cup, Snape avoided Harry's gaze. The relief shining there was not only annoying, it was also disturbing. He put the cup back down. There was one more thing. "We are all going to share the chores here. Eppy will take care of the cooking, but that's it."

It was clear that the house elf wouldn't really like that, but Harry had to agree with Snape. Eppy was by far the oldest house elf he'd ever seen. It would feel really stupid to allow an old person to wait on them.

"No one's going to weasel their way out of working simply because they don't know how. It's not an excuse." Snape cast a knowing look at Draco. He doubted the boy had never washed his own clothes or even made his own bed in his life.

Ron was bristling at the comment, wondering if Snape had just insulted him, or him and Harry. Weasel his way out indeed. Did the git really think Harry had been pampered his whole life?

"That sounds good." Lifting his gaze from his tea cup, Harry smiled. He was used to doing chores, a thing he'd shared with Snape during their talks. His life with the Dursleys wasn't a thing he liked talking about, but he had mentioned the basics of his life amongst the Muggles. The way he hadn't exactly liked his relatives. The holidays spent mostly studying for the school year.

He hadn't spoken of the cupboard. Or the bars on his window. Or the way Uncle Vernon still found it necessary to berate the world he lived in, how Dudley had used everything he'd found in his room as a weapon against him. He didn't want Snape's pity.

No real relationship between two people -- any real contact -- was based on pity. Or worship. Two things he would never, ever get from the man, that was certain.

Snape knew it would take some time for their routines to go smoothly. It was annoying, really, but it couldn't be helped. He couldn't teach Malfoy about chores now. They had more important things to discuss.

"Good. Potter, you'll wash the dishes, then."

"Okay." This was like back in the Potions class. At least washing cups and saucers was much easier than scrubbing cauldrons clean.

Ron wondered if the scowl would become permanent on his face. He should have known Snape would order Harry around and then get up and head for the door. Some things never changed.

He was going to make sure his friend wouldn't be treated like scum. His mum had made him do chores often enough. Helping Harry wouldn't be a big thing. Ron just wished the two Slytherins would go away, so he could talk alone with Harry. Maybe after finishing with the dishes, they could go out for a walk or something.

"Mr. Malfoy. Follow me." Without other words, Snape left the room, Draco in tow.

Ron let out a deep breath. This was going to be hell.

---

Part 2

Hell was actually not as bad as he'd thought it would be.

Ron was full of energy the next morning. He'd slept well after a long day, feeling really refreshed as he woke up. Ready to face another day in the countryside.

The fact that the cottage and its surroundings closely resembled his home helped, just like Malfoy's stay in Snape's room did. As long as he didn't have to stare into his smug face, everything was all right.

Padding downstairs with Harry following right behind him, Ron was already planning the day. Strange, how busy their first day hiding had been. He'd helped Harry with various chores, silently cursing Snape while going through the cupboards.

The house elf, Eppy, had followed them around, whining and wheezing all the time. Apparently their working was an insult to her ability to do her duty.

It had definitely not made things easy.

Cleaning and unpacking finished, Harry had collapsed on his bunk and pulled a book from his nightstand. It had been a clear message. Apparently he wasn't interested in talking yet.

Ron could understand that. He was also willing to give his friend time. At least some time.

A day or so sounded perfect.

Lunchtime had gone smoothly, as Ron had kept his attention on his food the whole time. Malfoy hadn't come to eat. He'd stayed in Snape's room for Merlin knew what purpose. It wasn't as if he was going to actually ask the greasy git. He hadn't completely lost his mind. The silence had felt really uncomfortable, even though neither Snape or Harry had seemed to mind it, both eating with a healthy appetite.

More time to do nothing in the afternoon. It rained outside, a cold hard rain that discouraged anyone from going out. Conversation was kept at minimum. Harry was obviously lost in thoughts. There was nothing new about that.

Ron simply allowed him to think, keeping his own attention in a Quidditch review he'd packed with him. It felt a little weird to simply lie in bed and browse through magazines. He kept flinching at every loud sound coming from downstairs, as if expecting Hermione to suddenly arrive and yell at him for not studying. It had to be his guilty conscience mixed with the annoyance he still felt for wasting his time studying for exams that were now postponed.

After dinner, Ron and Harry had headed to the small living room to read. The fireplace had been inviting, the flames flickering there making the whole place seem more like a home. To their surprise, Snape had ushered a tired looking Malfoy to the room as well.

It had not been the most comfortable of evenings.

Ron had kept waiting for something to happen. For the nasty Potions master to start making comments about them. For Malfoy to sneer at them. Instead, Snape had simply sat there on a comfortable looking couch, reading a thick book. About potions, of course. Malfoy had just drowsed off next to him. The slightly greenish tinge of his skin suggested he had been used as a guinea pig for various concoctions brewed in a cauldron. Ron didn't really sympathize.

It was no wonder he'd gone to bed early. Harry had followed him a moment later.

Sitting now in his familiar place at the table, Ron glared at the two Slytherins. He was certain it would be his turn to do the chores today. Snape would never lower himself to wash dishes, and honestly, would anyone want him to? Greasy plates and slimy residue of various potions on the utensils? No thank you.

"Mr. Weasley. Please clean the table after you finish your tea. Mr. Malfoy, with me."

Ron's glare was poisonous. He stared after Snape and Malfoy, wondering what on earth the two of them were doing in the small room. He wasn't sure he wanted to know.

Planting his cup on the table, Harry took a deep breath. Then he smiled at Ron. "Hey, after we finish with the dishes, let's go out and explore." There was honest excitement in his voice, something that hadn't been heard for some time.

"Huh?" Ron knew he had to look silly with his mouth open like this, but he couldn't really school his features. "Really?" He'd expected another day spent reading -- it seemed the way Harry kept hiding from him and Hermione these days. He'd been ready to force Harry to come out of his shell by the end of the day.

Now it seemed like it wouldn't be necessary after all.

Grabbing their thick outer robes, Ron followed Harry outside. It was chilly, his breath almost steaming in the cool air. It didn't really matter for it had been just as bad at Hogwarts.

"Let's check out the garden first, and then we could go to see what's over there." Gesturing at the river, Harry waited for Ron to nod before walking around the house.

It was clear that the witch or wizard living here previously hadn't really been interested in gardening. Ron had seen the damage gnomes could do on an organized garden, but the small vegetable patch behind the small cottage reminded him of a battleground.

There were a couple of shrubs trying to show some signs of life, but most of the greenery was clearly torn this way and that by the small pests.

Definitely not a place he wanted to dwell on for long. He was really glad his mum wasn't there. She would have smiled at him sweetly, and then ordered him to start working.

Not really looking at the wreck next to him, Harry hunched his shoulders, trying to wrap his robes better around him. Damn it was cold out here! He stood there in silence for a moment, and then said, "I think we need to talk." He was grateful to Ron for not pushing it. It had allowed him to collect his thoughts in peace yesterday. He hadn't really come to any conclusion, but at least now he knew that when he opened his mouth, his thoughts would have some semblance of clarity instead of just an incoherent babble.

Ron didn't need to hear about his worries, the memories their long journey had brought up. Running away was familiar to him, the only way he'd survived through serious fights; Voldemort returning, the attack at the Burrow. Even flooing was all right by now; he'd done it often enough these past few months. However, traveling through portkeys would never be easy. He'd always feel a ghost of a weight in his arms, as if a lifeless body was still lying in his grasp.

"Yeah. We do." It was silly how the simple words could make Ron smile that bright.

They walked away from the cottage, following the small river. It was easier to talk while they walked. Of course, moving around also helped to keep warm.

Since Harry seemed to be a bit hesitant to start the conversation, Ron asked, "Everything okay?" It sounded a bit silly, considering everything that had happened, but it was better than nothing.

Harry seemed to agree with him. He nodded. "Yeah." At least he could be honest with this. Funny. Everything really did feel all right now. "What about you?"

"Just fine. Am still a bit pissed at the whole thing with the N.E.W.T.s, but other than that, I'm cool." Kicking a small shrub, Ron added, "Even though I'd feel better if we didn't have those two creeps with us here."

"Mmh." The grunt didn't really sound agreeing. Harry couldn't help it. He wasn't going to tell Ron how he didn't actually mind Snape being here, but he wasn't going to lie either.

They would have to figure a way to live together. At least for the next few months. It didn't sound probable, but one could always hope. Harry was going to do everything in his power to see to it that they would all be alive and well when they returned to Hogwarts. Even Malfoy.

Ron was thinking along the same line.

"Do you think Malfoy's story holds? I mean, isn't it a bit too convenient that he just happened to come to his senses the moment we really needed information about Voldemort's plans?" It had nothing to do with the fact that he hated the blond like no one else. No, it didn't. Ron was simply using his common sense.

Harry shrugged. "I have no idea. Snape did give him veritaserum, and I think he's been giving him some other potions as well. So maybe we should trust him." He'd seen the glazed look in Malfoy's eyes earlier. Reminded him of the way Uncle Vernon had looked on Christmas Eves after emptying almost the whole bowl of punch by himself.

Since he was certain Snape wasn't getting Malfoy drunk, he had to be drugging him somehow.

Ron kicked a small pebble on his way, keeping his gaze on the ground. "Maybe." He walked a bit longer before adding, "How do you know what Snape is doing?" For some reason the offhand comment was really bothering him.

"I know Snape. That's what he'd do. Make sure everything is all right." Voice quiet, Harry remembered about all the times he'd attended a meeting with the Order's inner circle. There had been a lot of talk about Voldemort's plans and the ways he tried to control everything. Snape had made vague comments about potions. Dark potions that were definitely not described in their Potions manuals.

It had been almost overwhelming. Harry had listened in awe when his professor had listed potions that could kill, maim, or gain complete control over someone. It went beyond the simplicity of truth serums or stealth potions. An imperius in liquid form was just as unforgivable as the curse was.

"They probably gave Malfoy some stuff." Harry knew that most of the 'stuff' Voldemort had was probably brewed by Snape himself. At least this way he knew exactly what to look for. "I'm no expert with dark potions, but I think there could be things that would hurt him later on. Or make him hurt us."

That definitely caught Ron's attention. "You mean he could like snap and curse us all?" The thought of Malfoy being a puppet was somehow wrong. The bastard was an eager accomplice, he was sure of that.

"I have no idea. Maybe. Or maybe there's something else. Snape will tell us in time." Or then Harry would just go to him and badger the answers out of him. Harry knew Snape would tell him if he needed to know. It didn't matter how painful the news might some day be, Snape wouldn't keep him in the dark.

An unbelieving snort escaped Ron, but he didn't comment otherwise. He didn't care if Snape was one of the good guys. He'd never believe he was anyhing but a mean and sadistic teacher.

They'd reached the riverside. It was actually more a stream than a real river. The water seemed clear and inviting, like a good place to have a swim. Of course it was too chilly to go splashing there now, but maybe later. It would probably be warm enough in about a month or so.

On the other side of the river, the ground seemed to be covered in heather. It reminded them both of home.

Thinking about the time they'd spend at the cottage, Ron stopped. He raised his gaze to Harry's face before asking, "Are you really all right with this?"

"With what exactly?"

"The war. This is the beginning of it, right?" They had known it all along. The Order had been preparing for a confrontation for ages. There had been small skirmishes during the years; Voldemort trying to kill Harry every spring and the Death Eaters attacking every time his plan had been foiled. It was actually a miracle there had been no casualties amongst those dear to him.

Ron shivered at that. He'd seen some of the houses that had been destroyed. Remembered the dark robed figures running towards the Burrow. It had been different. This felt like the great war everyone was always talking about was finally upon them.

Things would change. People would have to stop living in an illusion of safety. Fudge would finally have to recognize the truth and commit the Aurors to preventing Voldemort from conquering their world.

"No, Ron. It's not. I don't know when exactly the war started. Maybe when we went to save the Philosopher's Stone. Or when Voldemort returned. It's just getting more visible now."

The cold tone of the usually so calm voice made Ron shiver.

Harry went on, not paying any attention to his friend. "I've known this would happen some day. Well, not this exactly, but it's been clear Voldemort is ready to strike. Again." He remembered Sirius' grave expression from the last meeting they'd had. Dark creatures and potions ingredients. It meant something big was coming.

"Okay." What else could Ron say? 'It's cool you're all right with having a maniac trying to kill you for like seven years. Oh, and let's not forget when you were just a baby.'

Not likely.

They stood there for a moment, watching the river flow by. Ron wanted desperately to change the subject. He didn't have any idea of where this would lead. "Um... So, what about this thing? With this place and all."

"Us being here?" Now there was a smile flickering on Harry's lips. He was a bit sad he couldn't tell Ron just how all right he was. Hiding here gave him time to think about what he wanted. Privacy. Time off from the meetings that didn't seem to lead into anything.

"Yeah."

Harry slowed down and then stood there, kicking the gravel a little, keeping his gaze on Ron. He waited till his friend joined him before saying, "I'm fine." It was time to be open about some things. "I don't really care about Malfoy. He's all talk. It's not like he can do anything to us except make nasty comments and I'm used to those. And Snape..."

The way the hated name was said made Ron blink. He'd never heard it just said before. Usually people spat it out.

"He's one of us. Of the Order. He's..." How on earth could Harry explain this? "He's not all bad." Seeing the grin, he repeated, "I said, not all bad."

"Yeah, right," Ron teased. It'd take a miracle to convince him. Something more than rescuing McGonagall, or becoming a fugitive. It was the beginning, but not enough. Not nearly enough after seven years of humiliation.

Harry smirked. He knew exactly what his friend was thinking about.

Ron acknowledged the smirk with one of his own. "You know, I still think Malfoy's a creep. He can spend all his time drinking Snape's potions for all I care. It keeps him from getting into my hair." He wouldn't mind Snape being there, either. He'd just ignore the man. "As long as they don't bother us, I'm cool."

It was the nicest thing Ron had ever said about the Slytherins. "Sure." Harry grinned, knowing things would be a lot more relaxed now.

Seeing the genuinely happy expression on his friend, Ron couldn't help saying, "Seems to me you're cool too." It had been a long time since it had felt like that.

"Ron..." For a moment Harry thought of swallowing the rest of the sentence. Then he went on, knowing that sooner or later he'd have to start talking about the really heavy things with Ron anyway. "Back at Hogwarts, it's like everyone wants a piece of me." It was difficult to say that out loud, even though everyone knew that much.

He'd stopped reading the Daily Prophet because of it. The expectations, the hunger the public had for news and details of his life had been too much to bear. The open Order meetings had become a torment as well. Dozens of people waiting for him to lead them when he had no idea how.

"I know," Ron said quietly. He'd had his share of the looks, of people trying to get to Harry through him.

"That's why... Now that we're here, I don't want to think about it all the time. The war, the chaos, the Order. Anything." It was not even hiding anymore. Harry was trying to escape. Not forever, but just for these few months. He wanted a small amount of peace and quiet.

Ron understood that perfectly. He for one didn't have any need to babble about strategy. He'd be just happy to have the old Harry back. They could talk about important things like girls and Quidditch or play some chess. "Okay." Just like old times.

"Thank you." Harry was relieved. There would be time for serious business later. Just not now. Feeling the wind blow through the relatively thin fabric of his robe, he gestured at Ron. "You wanna explore more, or should we go inside?"

There wasn't really anything else here. Behind the stream and some trees opened a hillside, and beyond that another. It would be stupid to stray too far from the cottage, even if the weather allowed it.

"Let's go back inside. I'm freezing my arse off here."

---

Part 3

Freedom was truly an amazing thing.

Draco Malfoy had never really thought about his life in terms of freedom and imprisonment. It had never occurred to him like that, not before the Yuletide.

When he'd realized what reality behind the masks and Dark Marks was like, his whole world had come crumbling down. Everything familiar to him had become a prison; his heritage, all the grand plans he had for his future. Even his position in Hogwarts, being the unchallenged leader of the young Slytherins.

He'd wanted to become the Head Boy. Just out of spite for Potter and his idiot goons, to show that he could do something others couldn't. But his father had said no. It was more important to guide everything from behind the scenes. It was too early to be so visibly in charge of everything. Better to sneak around in the shadows and wait for the perfect opportunity to stab his enemies. In the back of course.

Duty was something he was familiar with. It had been his whole life. It had been the first abstract concept he'd ever understood. Even before things like love and friendship.

Now everything was different.

Looking up from his cup of tea, Draco was still amazed by the ludicrous sight in front of him. They were all gathered in the dining room of the small cottage, Potter and Weasley on the other side of the table. Him alone on this side. Professor Snape sitting at the head of the table.

The deranged little family. Or maybe a gathering of the doomed, a few minutes before execution.

Draco smiled a little at the thought. No, they were definitely not a family. Not exactly prisoners either, for he had never in his life felt so free.

These past days had been wonderful. Different from anything he'd ever experienced. After the potions Snape had told him to take had worn off, and the nausea had passed, he'd felt strangely light inside.

It was actually quite disgusting how good he felt.

Staying in a small cottage with professor Snape and his two arch enemies hadn't really made him feel anything at first. He'd tossed away his destiny, and had been glad to have someone to guide him. As long as it was in the right direction. Even while being under the influence of veritaserum he'd listened closely to what Snape had said, glad that he was making the decisions and not the Headmaster.

Quite frankly, he didn't trust the old man. He was too absolute in his so called goodness. People who had such convictions in their own morality were usually the worst kinds of monsters.

Like the man worshipped by his father and his friends. Former friends, actually.

Life seemed to be full of quiet moments, and during some of those moments, Draco allowed himself to wonder just what exactly was going on in that shady world he'd left behind. Was Millicent or Pansy taking his place? Or did Voldemort stand behind his misogynous convictions and promoted only male progeny of his most trusted pureblood Death Eaters? The thought was always amusing, considering that with Marcus Flint's questionable parentage the only real options were Vince and Greg.

They would undoubtedly mess up everything. Dumbledore's people wouldn't have anything to worry about.

Snape excused himself after finishing his tea, casting a warning glance at the Gryffindors. His gesture at Draco was quite easily deciphered. It made the boy follow Eppy silently to the kitchen.

Things had really changed. From the professor's pet into just one of the students. And now this.

Since there was no one to see -- Eppy was dozing off in the corner and Potter and Weasley were in the living room -- Draco grimaced as he put his hands into the soapy water. He didn't like the idea of working like a common Muggle. They had the power of magic, so why not use it? There had to be a charm for this. He should be reading through his books to find one, not wasting time with soap and water.

He wasn't going to disobey Snape's orders. Some things hadn't changed. The professor's authority was definitely one of those things.

Once Snape had finished testing him for various curses, triggers and other things he had no idea of, the professor had told him to sit down and listen.

It had been a weird conversation, unlike any he'd ever had with Snape. He'd sat there, listening to the man make quite accurate comments about how he felt right now. About his options in life. He'd simply nodded, saying 'yes, sir' every once in a while.

Then, after a moment of scrutiny, Snape had told him to get out of his room and stay out of trouble.

So here he was.

Instead of staying in his room for the whole day, he remained downstairs after finishing with the chores. Ignoring Ron Weasley's glare, he curled on the couch with a book. He'd just continue with the way things had been, not paying attention to the others and not cursing them to the next century even if they deserved it.

The sound of raindrops tapping the windows was a soothing sound, and pretty soon he was lost in the world of the novel, completely forgetting about his surroundings.

There was a silence in the small living room. Harry had already sprawled on the couch, looking a bit bored. Ron had followed him, looking equally bored.

He'd brought a Quidditch magazine with him from their room, but wasn't really interested in reading it now. Wasn't in the mood for reading. After spending the past weeks doing nothing but reading, he needed to do something else. Anything else.

It had taken a few days for Ron to realize that this was going to be really tedious.

At first, he'd been really happy to have the old Harry back. The one eager to explore. They'd searched through the whole house -- except for that one room downstairs and the place where Malfoy hid -- and then walked around the grounds a couple of more times. There wasn't much to see, and soon they were both just spending most of the time in the living room, trying not to look as bored as they felt.

It had been nice and quiet inside the cottage. Malfoy had stayed upstairs for most of the time. That was always a good thing. He couldn't really stand seeing his smug face. Snape had spent his time in his room, undoubtedly turning the small and probably cozy place into something dank and dismal. The only time they'd all been forced to spend together had been during meals. Usually no words beyond common courtesies had been exchanged while they ate.

Glaring at the blond boy sitting by the window, Ron wished things had stayed that way.

He was beginning to wonder about the wisdom of his decision to come here. He didn't regret it, but to be quite honest, he hadn't thought about what it would be like to spend months in close quarters with two Slytherins. Especially these two. He'd spent years trying to avoid Malfoy and his goons. Hated Snape both inside the classroom and outside it.

Things were probably going on as usual in Hogwarts. Glancing at the clock on the wall, he wondered what people were doing right now. It was too late for dinner, so they were probably studying in the library or relaxing in the common rooms. He could see it now; Hermione sitting in the library with a big pile of books, casting dirty glances at Lavender who was undoubtedly sitting by Wayne Hopkins from Hufflepuff, kissing him and giggling.

It was strange. These past seven years, Hogwarts had become a second home to him, and he realized he missed it. He'd made plans for his future, dreaming of following his father's footsteps in the Ministry or maybe even becoming an Auror, but before all that, there would be dreaded exams, and then the Leaving Feast.

Simply leaving on one hour's notice wasn't exactly in his plans. Leaving behind everything he knew, and disappearing from the wizarding world completely.

He wondered if Harry missed his Quidditch practices right now. It was better than wondering if his parents were worrying about him. Because that was the one thing he couldn't talk with Harry. About relatives who might be worried sick. Or who wouldn't care at all.

Ron decided not to think about that.

Now it was raining again. Not the gentle dribble that didn't really bother anyone, but a cold hard rain. There was nowhere to go, really, all trips to the outhouse made in haste as the short journey there left them shivering even in their robes. They were cooped up inside.

It reminded him of springtime at Hogwarts. Weather up in Scotland was not unlike it was here, which made him kind of suspicious. The fact that the shrubs outside looked very much like the heather and thistle lining the Quidditch pitch only added to his suspicions. It was dreary. And it rained. Constantly.

"Two months of this." Ron shook his head in disgust. "Nothing to do out here. Well, we can go out and try to de-gnome the garden, but even that will become really annoying after two or three hours. Especially if it continues raining. "

Running around the Weasleys' garden chasing the gnomes was a happy memory, always making Harry smile a little. He could remember it becoming real work when repeated every day for a week. "Yeah. We'd better think of something else."

The problem was, there wasn't much to do. He hadn't brought his Firebolt with him. They had a board of wizard's chess here, but he wasn't going to spend months playing. Going to spend time with Snape would have been nice, but he couldn't justify that now. Not to Snape, and certainly not to Ron.

Ron squirmed a little, his gaze unfocused. He tried to think of something. Anything. "Well, there are always chores." The grimace on his face already told what he thought of that. Washing dishes and stuff like that wasn't all that bad, really, but suffering through Eppy's sighs and bitter ramblings was.

"We can only clean this place like once a day. So no. What else?" Harry couldn't believe he was actually missing the studying. What an insane notion.

"Let me think."

A long silence followed Ron's words. All three boys were lost in thoughts, trying to think of a way -- any way -- to end the boredom.

There was a rustling sound from the couch, and then Draco Malfoy said quietly, "We could ask professor Snape to tutor us in Potions." He sounded uncharacteristically subdued.

Harry raised an eyebrow. He was a bit surprised to have the Slytherin actually talk to them. Malfoy had been locked inside his own glum thoughts for the past few days. Not that it was really a wonder.

"Yeah, right. Why would we want that, Malfoy?"

Ignoring the hostility in Weaslry's voice, Draco shrugged. "Just a thought. It seems stupid to waste all the time I spent studying for the N.E.W.T.s. I bet Snape could give us the exam here, and when we go back to Hogwarts, we'd have one less thing to worry about."

He didn't really need to take the exam right now. Years of studying for the class held by the Head of his House had been enough for him to accumulate enough knowledge to pass any test.

Studying would be better than spending all his time trying to evade Potter and Weasley. It would also take his mind off the dark thoughts that seemed to accompany him everywhere no matter how hard he tried to escape them.

"Well it's a stupid idea." Declaring his opinion quite clearly with both words and tone, Ron turned his back on Malfoy. "Just shut up."

Harry didn't say anything, knowing that it would just make it worse. Once, he'd hated Malfoy just as much as Ron so obviously still did, but it didn't matter anymore. Malfoy had been a threat, now he was only a nuisance. As long as he didn't get in his way, he didn't care.

As if he'd expected that answer, Draco shrugged. A moment later he collected his book and sneaked back upstairs without even looking at the two Gryffindors.

Waiting until Malfoy was clearly out of hearing range, Harry looked at Ron who was still looking angry. "Actually, Ron, he has a point." He was agreeing with Malfoy. What a strange thing. "I know you read the Potions stuff as well as the Arithmancy." All the hours spent at the library were still making him shudder.

Hermione would make a fine teacher one day. If she chose not to become one, she could find work as a drill sergeant at a boot camp.

There was an angry silence. Then Ron nodded. "Yeah." The word was squeezed from behind clenched teeth.

Nothing had changed. Turning his back on Voldemort didn't erase years of being a complete bastard. Some people might go soft on Malfoy, but Ron was definitely not one of them. He would not comment on Malfoy's stupid attire or the way his gel free hair seemed to curl stupidly, or punch him in the face for simply breathing. But he was not going to forgive him either. And he was definitely not going to admit him he was agreeing with him about anything.

"So we should ask Snape to teach us?" Harry could have probably just asked if he should ask Snape. From Ron's expression it was clear that he wasn't going to do it.

Ron nodded, looking a little hesitant. It would be best if Harry talked to Snape. At least that way Malfoy couldn't take credit for the whole thing, even if it was his idea. But asking Harry do it wasn't really fair to his friend. After all, they all knew how Snape usually reacted to anything they said. "Are you sure you don't want Malfoy to ask him?"

"No, I'll go," Harry hurried to answer. He'd been waiting for such an opportunity for days now, and wasn't going to let it go.

Besides, he'd seen how Malfoy acted with Snape. It was clear that things had changed. Snape had agreed to protect Malfoy, but Malfoy obviously had no idea how to behave with Snape.

Harry smiled a little. Yes, everything had been so simple when they'd still believed in the roles they had played in school. Especially Malfoy's role. Now they knew it was a lie. He would never again get away with his supremacist attitude or cutting jibes. At least with Snape around.

"Well, it's your funeral." Even though he meant it as a joke, Ron still shook his head. He still couldn't understand Harry's attitude towards Snape. Being a member of the Order didn't really change things all that much. "I wouldn't go to him even if you paid me."

A genuine smile followed the comment. It was not all that often he made jokes about money, but this time there was a hint of honesty in the words.

"Ron... He's not a total monster." Seeing that the words didn't have any impact on his friend, Harry shrugged. It was really weird. He could barely remember how it was to be scared of going to see the man.

Rolling his eyes, Ron nodded. "Yeah. Right. I believe you. And maybe Malfoy's not a twit either. We've just misunderstood them all along."

Harry didn't even bother to say anything to that.

"So you'll ask him if he'd... er..." Wondering just how could anyone ask Snape about anything, Ron just went with, "Teach us. Right?" He wondered if he could get away with calling Snape a nasty git to his face after passing the exam. After he'd passed, the man wasn't going to be able to flunk him. Of course it didn't mean he wouldn't be able to throw a curse or five at him.

"Yeah. I think he'll agree. It's not like he has anything better to do here." Boredom would be a common enemy. Snape had said something about DADA, but he'd probably be overjoyed to teach Potions.

Ron blinked as he saw Harry get up. "You're going there now?" He'd thought Harry would approach Snape after breakfast the next morning or something.

"Why not?" No need to stall. Harry padded to the door, trying to ignore the look on Ron's face. "I'll be right back." Realizing he didn't really want to hurry with this, he hesitated. "Actually, there are some things I need to talk with him. So you shouldn't worry if this takes me a while."

He hurried out of the room before Ron could say anything.

Knowing Harry couldn't see it, Ron nodded anyway. His expression was dark. He knew he'd worry as long as Harry was there with the sadistic bastard. It didn't matter he was a member of the Order.

It'd be best if he waited here.

Harry walked across the small entrance hall towards Snape's door. Malfoy's suggestion was a good one, and he was sure Snape would agree with that. He didn't mind sitting back and enjoying the peace and quiet, but this didn't sound bad either. Besides, they'd have weeks and weeks to just be after the exam. He doubted their studying would take all that long.

Instead of simply touching the door, like he always did back at Hogwarts, he rapped his knuckles against it.

"What is it, Potter?" The voice called out even before the door was opened.

"How did you know it was me?" Harry stepped through the doorway, closing the door after him. "It could have been..." The words faded away as he remembered the strangely identical looks of apprehension on Ron and Malfoy. "Oh."

Snape didn't comment, but there was a faint smirk ghosting over his features. "Oh indeed. Well. Come on in, then." He gestured at the chair across from where he was standing.

Since it was the only place to sit on -- if one didn't sit on Snape's bed, and Harry was certain that wouldn't go well --, Harry slumped down on the chair.

He didn't even try to hide his curiosity as he looked around the room. There were jars and bundles of various potions ingredients everywhere, books piled on the table. A cauldron was simmering not far from them. He wondered where on earth had the man packed all this. After all, he'd brought just one trunk with him, like the rest of them.

The scent of herbs was already thick in the air, making the small room smell very familiar. Harry couldn't help smiling at that. In just a couple of days Snape had managed to make this place feel like home.

It was funny how they'd seemed to have brought the sense of home with them. In the room he shared with Ron, the familiarity of his friend's messy habits and the soft sound of his breathing in the dark lulled him into safety. Here, it was the scents surrounding him, like in the dungeons at Hogwarts. Not only the herbs that soothed him, but also the less pleasant smells.

Potion ingredients that had always been an annoyance were now building memories of peace and calm.

"So, to what do I owe this honor?" Snape asked as he realized Harry was just going to gawk at his room. "Or are you just on a sightseeing tour?"

"I like what you've done to this place." There was quiet honesty in Harry's voice.

He didn't expect for an answer. None was offered. Snape just stood there, waiting for more as he looked around the room once again.

Seeing Harry in such informal surroundings was a bit strange. It had been easy at Hogwarts. There the boy had been a student inside the classroom, a fellow member of the Order in his rooms. Everywhere else, it depended on the situation. If he was running around and screaming with his friends, a student. If he was not breaking any rules, an ally. Simple.

It wasn't that simple anymore.

Then again, nothing in the world was really simple. At least not in the world Snape lived in. Where friends could be enemies, and annoying brats could turn out to be human beings after all.

Harry returned his gaze to the man. "Actually, we have a favor to ask." Seeing the encouraging nod, he said, "Since we're going to be here for a while, and all of us spent a lot of time studying for the N.E.W.T.s, we'd like to take the exams here. The Potions exams. And we kind of thought it'd be great if you tutored us before it. If it's all right with you."

He felt a bit light headed after saying that.

The surprised expression on Snape's face was a genuine one. Harry Potter asking him if he could actually teach? And he'd said 'we'. Weasley was eager to study?

"Shocking, isn't it?" Harry grinned. Somehow it felt as if Snape was not laughing at him. With him, maybe. Even though Snape was just standing there. Not really laughing at all.

"To be quite honest, yes." The sarcasm in the deep voice was definitely not cutting this time. "You want me to finish teaching you this year's course and then give you the exams?"

The astonishment on Snape's usually guarded face was so blatantly obvious, Harry kept grinning while nodding. "Yes. Ron is bored out of his mind, and quite frankly so am I. Besides, it might help to defuse the tension a bit." He wasn't stupid. Malfoy was acting meek, and Ron was doing his best to ignore him, but that wasn't going to last forever. Even in the silence, there were all kinds of angry feelings floating around those two.

That certainly got Snape's attention. "So you think of classes as a diversion?" More scathing this time.

"No. I didn't say that." Harry rolled his eyes. "I think of them as a good way not to waste all the hours we've already spent studying for the N.E.W.T.s. The fact that they'll help us all live here together is a bonus."

Snape brushed his fingers over the freshly cut clover leaves on the table, thinking about it. It did make sense. More than he had earlier credited Harry with.

He'd wondered how long it would take for those three to get bored of simply being. It was a bit surprising how quickly they had come to him. Still, he was glad he hadn't suggested this himself. He'd had some time to think and now he could teach without being resented for it.

What a novel idea.

Teaching Potions hadn't really crossed his mind. He'd thought about defense and teaching how to survive. He didn't want to be a part of any delusion of safety.

They would have time for DADA classes as well. Snape gave in to the temptation to be a simple Potions master. It had been such a long time since he'd had time to only teach.

"All right." Ignoring the smile on Harry's face, he added, "We'll meet in the living room after breakfast. Classes for two hours then and four more before dinner. You can spend the extra time studying."

It sounded exactly the way Harry had imagined. Hard work. "Sure." He was also sure Ron would skin him.

"I expect you all to behave yourselves during the classes. No talking during the lecture, no sleeping. I will treat you as students, but due to our special circumstances, I do not feel comfortable in handing out House points out here. It would feel like favoritism."

Harry waited for a moment, unsure if it was a joke or not. Since Snape's expression didn't waver, he just nodded, "Yes. Of course."

"Good." It would be interesting to teach such a small group. Snape's most recent experience of tutoring was with two of his own students who were mentally equivalent to house elves. Really stupid house elves. Even though he had no illusions about Weasley's or Harry's intelligence --especially in Potions class -- this would be better than just sitting here.

Of course it would also keep the youngsters in line. Having too much time in their hands would be dangerous.

"So... When will we start? Tomorrow?" Harry asked. It was probably best to start right away. That way Ron wouldn't have the chance to kill Malfoy.

Since there was nothing more important to do, Snape nodded. He'd probably manage to finish with the potion he was brewing in an hour or so, and then he'd have time to plan for the classes. "Yes." He was already thinking about what he would have to teach before the exams. To young Malfoy, probably nothing. To Weasley... Well, they did have only a couple of months here.

He would do his best. It would be up to the annoying teenagers to pass or fail.

Harry had never felt this happy about the possibility of actually going to a Potions class. It was making him a bit giddy. "Thank you!" He might regret this later, but right this moment he didn't mind that.

Snape waited for a moment. When Harry didn't say anything or make a move to get up, he asked, "Was there something else you wanted?" His voice indicated there's better not be. He had work to do.

"Well... No. Not really." Disappointed, Harry shook his head.

A grunt was the only reply he got. Snape turned his attention back to the salve he was brewing. It had simmered in peace for long enough. It was time to add more ingredients.

For a moment, Harry wondered if he should ask for a permission to stay. Seeing Snape concentrate on the potion made him decide against it. Asking would be stupid.

Instead of leaving, he sat there, waiting for a curt order to get out. When none came, a small smile appeared on his lips. It was a bit weird how he'd missed spending time alone with Snape. He hadn't really thought about why.

Didn't want to think about it now either. He was just happy to be here.

He knew that studying would keep them busy and drive the boredom away for a while. Hopefully, it would be warmer when they finally passed their exams, and they could then spend more time outside.

It would be weird to be finally free of the Potions class. Ron for one would be happy to be rid of it. Harry smiled a little. Yes. His friend would probably feel relief after the exam. He knew Ron worried about Snape's presence, and at least a bit of that worry would be erased when it was sure nothing they did could postpone leaving school.

Snape wouldn't be their teacher anymore. Of course he was still a professor and an adult, but he wouldn't hold enormous power over them. For some reason that was important to Harry, even though he couldn't really say why.

Trying not to look too deep into the whole thing, he curled on the chair, simply enjoying the moment of peace.

Snape added the ingredients slowly to the potion. He didn't even need to check out the order from the book. He'd only brewed this particular potion once before, but he'd memorized it long ago, knowing it could well save his life some day.

His mind was wandering while he stirred the thickening liquid. The potion was a perfect example of how his life had changed, and he wasn't certain if it was a good thing or not.

This was reality now. Hiding. There was no place on earth where he'd be completely safe. There would be people after him and nothing would change that, except the death of his former Master. He had no idea what would happen after that.

Life would go on. He'd return to his quiet life in Hogwarts, finally able to stop thinking about the past. Even if the mark he had of his teenage folly would probably never let him completely forget.

Brewing a potion was always calming. Even this potion. Snape enjoyed the silence and peace of his room, glad that the youngsters were staying away from here. He was willing to spend some evenings in the living room, to act as a buffer between young Malfoy and Weasley but it was far from an ideal way to spend the evening.

He'd accepted the duty to protect the boy. That meant he'd even suffer through tedious evenings with idiots.

The potion was almost done, the liquid turning into the deep green salve-like subject it was supposed to be. Snape pulled the ladle out of the cauldron, careful not to drip any of the potion on the books that were open on the table.

Now he had to wait before adding the rest of the ingredients.

A movement on the other side of the room caught his attention just as he was reaching out for a jar of Plimpy livers. Trying to remember if he'd heard the door open, Snape abandoned his movement towards the jar and spun around, his wand ready. Seeing Harry sit there was definitely a shock. He'd thought he'd already left.

"What? Is something wrong?" Harry made a move towards his own wand as he saw Snape twirl around. "Is someone coming?"

Snape just stared. Then he put his wand back on the table. His expression was poisonous. "I thought you'd already left." He was more angry at himself than at Harry. He'd got so used to the boy's presence, he didn't even register it anymore and that wasn't exactly wise.

It was probably the first time he'd ever relaxed like that in someone's presence. He'd never dropped his guard like this before. Not even with Albus Dumbledore.

"Oh." Harry felt something shrivel inside of him. He did his best not to show his disappointment. "Sorry." There was even some sarcasm in that one word. It was the best he could muster.

With a withering glare, Snape turned back to his potion. Not saying a word.

He didn't know why he wasn't just throwing Harry out of his room. It was obvious the Gryffindor didn't need him. That illusion had been shattered a while back. There was no trace of desperation in him anymore.

He still thought Harry Potter was annoying. What else could he think? He certainly didn't worship him like most of their world seemed to do. He would never again worship anyone, not even if they deserved it. And Harry didn't deserve being worshipped. He was too human for that.

Annoying! Snape slammed the ladle back into the cauldron. He did not want to think about an idiot child as a human being. Students weren't humans. They were irritating twerps who never listened, never paid attention to what adults told them.

Stirring the potion, Snape reached out for the Plimpy livers again. He grimaced as he felt his sleeve get even wetter as his fingers finally found one small liver in the jar. He was going to finish the potion now, not caring he wasn't alone. Starting from the beginning the next day would be stupid.

He could deal with slight discomfort. It was nothing compared to most of the things he'd been through. Soggy clothing would be better than pity or horror from the boy.

Almost anything would be better than that.

Harry couldn't keep his attention away from Snape for long. He could sense something was wrong with him, but had no idea why. Feeling the heat from the fire make perspiration run down his face, he wiped his forehead. Suddenly he realized Snape must feel the heat even worse than he did. But still, he didn't take off his frock coat. He squinted. Snape's sleeves seemed to be all soggy as well.

It hit him hard. Of course Snape wouldn't want anyone to see him take the robes off. Even professor Sprout used light summer robes at the end of school year, but no one had ever seen Snape in anything but his heavy robes.

He had a flash of image from the dueling club five years ago. Snape had left his outer robes off then. Still, he'd been hidden neck down in black cloth. He was always like that. Never relaxing. Always looking forbidding in his clothes, covering his skin.

Covering his left arm.

The small chair clattered back as Harry stood up in a hurry. He hadn't even thought that he was probably intruding, that Snape would want to do things in private. Sense of duty would probably keep him from asking him to leave.

That didn't mean he should stay and ignore the fact that Snape didn't want him there.

"Stop making a mess, Potter!" Snape glanced over his shoulder, looking pointedly at the chair until Harry raised it up again. He was still holding the jar. Fortunately he hadn't spilled any of the liquid. "What is it?"

Harry opened and closed his mouth a couple of times.

"Just when you almost had me convinced of some trace of intelligence, you contradict it with idiotic behavior." Never mind the fact that he had actually said something nice. Snape's voice was definitely not kind.

"I... I..." Hand still on the back of the chair, Harry stuttered, feeling like an idiot. His movement had been spurred by surprise, and now he had no idea what to do.

If this was about anything else, he would just say what he had thought but Snape's past was not something he could comment on.

He swallowed, and closed his mouth. Better not say anything. But it was clear some kind of an explanation was needed right now.

"Maybe I should go." It was clear Snape was angry. Maybe not at him, but he wouldn't bet on it. "I have things to tell Ron, and you need some..." Harry bit his tongue as he almost said something they'd both regret later.

He moved quickly towards the door. He'd better get out of here right now.

"Stop!"

Harry froze at the sound of Snape's voice. It had rarely sounded like that before; full of barely contained fury. Somehow it was worse than malice or rage. "Y...Yes?" He was sure he was insane, because he still couldn't feel real fear. Only strange churning in his stomach.

"Pray tell me what do I need, Potter." Realizing he was squeezing the jar so tight his fingers ached, Snape stared at Harry. This was good. The idiot would probably stutter something inane, and then leave; exactly what he needed right now, to be reminded of how he hadn't lost his touch.

To be once again proven that this foolish young creature was indeed worth every single angry thought he'd had ever had about idiots.

"Privacy." Amazingly, it came out without a stutter. Harry met Snape's stare with a calm expression. He didn't make a move towards the door.

Snape hadn't really expected that. "What do you mean?" He'd never needed privacy while brewing a potion. He was a Potions master, a teacher. It wasn't as if he had a performance anxiety. Especially not with this young man. "Why would I need that?"

"Er..."

The hesitation made Snape squint his eyes. Something was going on. It didn't take a genius to know what Harry was thinking about. He could see the furtive looks at his arm.

It was amazing how it made him burn inside. He'd been through all the pain and anger years ago, so why did it still hurt when this happened? He accepted the consequences of his actions, but he would never accept this. Not the condescending comments, not questions or carefully phrased remarks.

Still, when Harry didn't say anything, he raised an eyebrow and prompted, "Yes?" He wasn't going to stand here and wait for whatever the boy had to say.

"You know. You could. I mean, I have... I know..." Harry hated the way Snape's lips curled into a sneer. Taking a deep breath, he blurted out, "Look. I know you have the damn Dark Mark. Okay? It's hot as hell in here, and you shouldn't need to..."

He didn't know how to form the feeling into words. What had begun as a thought about hiding had turned into something else.

Needing to finish the sentence, he muttered, "You shouldn't need to hide it. Not because of me." It sounded stupid.

There was a horrible silence in the room.

It was awkward. Undercurrents of anger and pain and rage were palpable in the oppressing silence. It was as if everything had stopped moving, the whole world waiting for an explosion. Snape stood as still as a statue.

After a moment, Harry said, "I didn't mean to make things all uncomfortable again. I apologize for that. I just wanted to say that I know and that I don't care." Care was probably not the right word here. Not at all. "I mean... Crap! I don't know what I mean." He gave up, spreading his arms.

Snape kept his gaze on him for a long time. His expression was unreadable, probably meaning he was boiling with rage. The potion in the cauldron was bubbling, and he absentmindedly placed the jar back on the table and stirred the liquid. Still staring at Harry.

It made Harry squirm, but he didn't even think about leaving right now. If he ran away, things would never be the same again.

"Stop hovering there. If you want to leave, leave. If you're going to stay, make yourself useful." Slowly pulling the ladle out of the potion, Snape made sure the liquid was steaming before adding, "Open the window."

Harry blinked. "Huh?" Then a grin spread to his face. "Sure." He practically ran to the small window.

"Oh, and Potter." Glancing at his houseguest, Snape looked actually amused. "If we were still at Hogwarts, you would lose five points for the use of profanities." With that he concentrated on the potion again.

Snape considered 'crap' to be a profanity? Harry was definitely not surprised.

Fresh, cool air replaced the stagnant stench of burned clover. Harry stood by the window for a moment, breathing in the scent of spring. He didn't want to turn back to Snape just yet. Didn't know what to say to him.

He'd been certain he'd be thrown out. Hexed. Probably beaten with a cauldron. Even with all the evenings spent at Snape's quarters, there was a line he'd never crossed. Not until now. For some unimaginable reason, he'd felt it necessary to actually make a personal comment to the man.

A comment that should have ruined it all. It hadn't. He didn't know exactly what had happened.

Harry turned to see Snape still working on the potion. The task seemed to actually make the man happy. As if brewing was to Snape like flying was to him. A deep passion.

He was still wearing the frock coat, but it seemed like he'd rolled the sleeves up just a little. Not enough to actually reveal anything, but it was something. He didn't look tense anymore.

Deciding not to try to break the silence with inane babbling, Harry went quietly to get a broom from one corner, and then swept some of the leaves off the floor, staying out of Snape's way. "I will not scrub any cauldrons, though. I may be nice, but I'm not a complete idiot," he muttered softly so that Snape could decide whether to comment or not.

Snape snorted, but didn't say anything.

They didn't really talk after that. Harry kept sweeping the floor, a bit wistful as he held the broomstick in the unfamiliar position. It didn't matter that the floor wasn't all that dirty. He enjoyed the soothing motion of the broom.

When Snape had poured all of the salve into small jars and finished cleaning, it was already dark outside. Knowing he couldn't stay, Harry still cast a longing look at the chair. Then he muttered good night to Snape.

He wasn't at all surprised when the words were muttered right back.

Tiptoeing across the hall, Harry peeked into the living room before heading upstairs. Seeing Ron asleep on the couch made him smile a little. It was clear his friend had waited for him and then dozed off right there. He decided not to wake him up.

Ron would definitely need the sleep before tomorrow's class.

---

Part 4

"It seems that the change of scenery hasn't really changed the fact that Gryffindors simply cannot follow orders."

Snape's scathing words made both Harry and Ron cringe.

They were all gathered in the living room, the already small room feeling even smaller with the makeshift tables and the cauldrons there. A fire was burning in the fireplace, spreading warmth all around the room. The heat was almost nauseating, throbbing with the scent of mint.

Not exactly like the Potions classroom back at Hogwarts. Still, Snape's presence made it feel like the familiar room in the dungeons.

Ron for one wasn't at all surprised by the way they were treated. He'd never had any illusions about Snape. The hours they'd spent every day chopping ingredients and talking about potions had been a break in a boring routine. A hellish break. He was quite certain he'd rather be bored to death than spend another day like this.

Of course, having nothing better to do than study was making everything easier. They had been making notes. Choosing ingredients, preparing them. That had been the so called class. During the evening, they'd lounged on the couches -- or even on the floor on one occasion, when Snape and Malfoy had sat on different couches and Ron had had to choose between sitting next to either Slytherin or on the floor -- reading books about potions.

They were sure to pass the exam.

Ron couldn't help thinking about his original thought of this being like his personal hell. Especially not now.

Today, not even a full week since they'd started this impromptu tutoring, they'd started to actually brew a potion that was on the N.E.W.T.s list. It had made everyone's stomach flutter. It truly seemed like Snape wanted them to test their new skills.

Resulting in three cauldrons blowing up, covering them in deep purple and magenta goo.

"But... Wasn't this supposed to blow up?" Harry looked up at Snape, wondering if he'd misunderstood the meaning of the potion. "Adding garlic into a mix of bubotuber pus and..." He saw the impatient way Snape was gesturing with his hand for him to get to the point. "Well, it was going to blow up no matter what."

"In order to... Mr. Malfoy?"

Draco didn't even blink at that. He was used to this now. The questions Snape asked him weren't the ones with blatantly obvious answers anymore. "In order to release the essence of the potion into the air, sir, so that a large number of patients can be cured at once."

"Correct." This was new as well. No praise. Simply acknowledgement. "But you, Potter and you, Mr. Weasley did not add enough garlic. The text clearly says that if the garlic is a small one, then you have to..."

"... measure the cloves instead of simply counting them." Harry finished the sentence with resignation. No wonder the goo both he and Ron had managed to blow up had been so light in color.

Snape nodded. "Yes. That means your potion was not as potent as Mr. Malfoy's. It would still work, even though not with a large amount of people." He said it grudgingly.

"So we pass?" There was hope in Ron's voice. He was so enthusiastic about the prospect he almost didn't realize what he'd left out the sentence before seeing Snape glare at him. "Sir."

"Thank you for your amazingly accurate interpretation of Eppy. And yes. You did pass. Congratulations, Mr. Weasley. Potter. It seems the two of you have indeed passed the most rudimentary of exams that are a part of your N.E.W.T.s. I may yet die of the sheer shock." He simply nodded at Draco. They both knew he was excellent in Potions.

Ron glanced at Harry, smiling broadly.

"Now, I suggest that after cleaning up the mess, you go out and bathe. Use a lot of soap." Seeing the confused looks, Snape sighed. "Read the last paragraph out loud, Potter."

" 'All patients should be properly covered, since the potion is somewhat magic resistant. You can not remove it from skin or hair by using any of the cleaning charms.' Oh, great." The last part was a groan.

There was quite a lot of the goo on all their faces and arms. Due to the heat in the room, all teenagers had removed their robes, brewing the potion clothed in trousers and T-shirts. Only Snape had remained in his dark frock coat, looking as forbidding as ever. There was an amazing amount of bright magenta potion dripping down to his collar from his hair.

No one was laughing. Ron had to bite the inside of his mouth, and Harry's eyes were twinkling, but there was absolutely no sounds of laughter in the room.

The cleaning was relatively easy. While Ron, Harry and Draco scrubbed their cauldrons clean, Snape cast a cleaning charm on the floor, the ceiling and the windows. He was certain that if he left that task to anyone else, there'd be algeo-aegerserum dripping down from the ceiling for days.

It wouldn't really matter if he wasn't about to spend yet another evening in the room with his students.

Finishing with their cauldrons, they cleaned most of their clothes, and then hurried upstairs for towels and soap. Draco trailed the two Gryffindors back downstairs, uncertain if he was supposed to go with them or not.

These past few days had almost returned him back to his old self. He wasn't really happy about interacting with people like Potter and Weasley, knowing exactly what they thought about him -- and knowing they knew exactly what he thought about them -- but he wasn't shying away from conversations anymore. Snape's presence in the living room helped somewhat. Even Weasley couldn't really be uncivil to him in front of Snape.

Ron was chuckling slightly as he rushed down the stairs behind Harry. "You know, Snape wasn't all that better with the instructions. Can you believe he'd deliberately have this shit on his hair? As if it isn't greasy... Oh, hello professor!"

It was amazing how quickly he could actually change a subject.

"Mr. Weasley." The tone indicated that Snape had many other names he simply chose not to call the boy with. "Remember not to let your guard down outside. Since there are three of you, I assume you can handle bathing and standing guard at the same time." He glanced at all three, looking doubtful. "Unless you want me to come and..."

"Not necessary, sir!" Ron almost blushed at his quick denial.

Thinking about stripping naked and then bathing while Snape stood there and watched was even more mortifying. He could handle glares or even sneers in a classroom. He was quite certain his ego couldn't survive bathing like that. He'd probably be scarred for life.

Snape didn't comment. He raised an eyebrow. That was enough.

It was quite surprising how quickly seventh year students could move if the occasion called for it. Ron and Draco almost collided by the doorway, both feeling urgent need to simply run.

Harry followed them on a slower pace, casting an amused look at Snape as he passed him by.

It was approaching dinner time. The day had been relatively beautiful, and it wasn't too cold out yet. Draco was still shivering in his T-shirt. There was no use putting on clean robes that would only get messy. He saw Ron was dressed similarly, and the comment about the famous Weasley poverty -- he probably had just one set of robes -- was immediately on his lips. He decided against it.

No need to start fighting now.

He noticed Potter was wearing an oversized pullover, wrapped warmly in the worn shirt. How wonderful it had to be to own clothes that were so disgusting that even a gooey potion couldn't make a difference.

Harry tried not to pay any attention to the looks both Ron and Malfoy seemed to cast at him. Malfoy was clearly thinking about something, his gaze gleaming with mirth. It was a good thing he was keeping his mouth shut. Harry didn't want to see Ron in a fight; his friend looked angry enough as it was. Snape's comment had completely confused him, so that he hadn't even objected Malfoy's presence.

Ron knew better than to argue now. The Slytherin would go to Snape and then there'd be hell to pay.

In all the time they'd now spent in the small cottage, there had been no sign of people in the area. No planes or brooms flying low in the sky. No sound of cars. Nothing. Still, it felt a bit weird to undress out in the open. The Burrow had a small pond near by, so Ron and even Harry weren't exactly new to skinny dipping. Both had visited beaches as well, especially that one summer they'd been invited to the Grangers. The invitation had almost resulted in Arthur Weasley having an apoplexy from all the excitement.

To Draco this was the first time he was doing anything like this, but it was proving to be a lot easier than using the outhouse. Even if running around in what was considered their front lawn in the buff was new to him, he had been in the company of lots of naked people before. Not all the tales about the Slytherin orgies were exaggerated.

He was the first to start taking his clothes off. Since he didn't have anyone to chatter nervously to, he simply stripped, not paying attention to the others.

Harry and Ron followed his example.

Ron was torn between the need to keep an eye on Malfoy and the desire to turn his back on him. Holding onto his towel, he tried not to look like he was feeling embarrassed, even though he kind of thought the blush creeping up his neck already betrayed him.

He envied Harry his ease in walking around wrapped in a towel. Had to be because of all the Quidditch practices and the communal showers in the locker rooms. There was little privacy in the Gryffindor showers but there were stalls there. Ron could handle splashing around naked with his brothers or Harry, but Malfoy was a completely different thing.

The bastard would probably make some comment about his freckles. Or compare. He'd definitely compare. Not that Ron had anything to be worried about.

Keeping his head up high, Ron dropped the towel and waded into the stream. He had to bite his lip to keep the horrified gasp inside. Damn, the water was cold. Still, he couldn't stop now.

"Damn this water is freezing!" Harry cringed as he followed Ron, holding his wand high. He was definitely not enjoying this. After a quick dunk, he'd just soap himself and be on his way. A little smell wouldn't matter. Not when he was freezing his dangly bits off.

Draco Malfoy was still standing on the riverbank, staring at the two Gryffindors. He was trying very hard not to laugh out loud. This was just too hilarious; the hope of the wizarding world and his sidekick behaving like two frightened Muggles.

"Caleoaquam!" Pointing his wand at the water, Draco said the charm out, and then smiled sweetly as the other two yelped. Still smiling, he walked into the warm water, sighing with happiness. This was something.

"That's a handy charm," Harry said. An icebreaker of sorts. How befitting.

Draco looked at him and nodded. He wasn't sure if it was meant as a compliment or not, so he decided not to comment. Taking a deep breath, he dunked himself, feeling wonderfully refreshed as he came up for air.

He waded deeper in, and then went completely under again. And again. He enjoyed the strange non-silence of the underwater world. It was as if there was nothing and everything there, only the odd echo of the sounds around him, and his own heartbeat.

Ron was staring at Malfoy when the Slytherin came up for air again. His gaze was fixed on the pale skin of Malfoy's left arm. There was no black tattoo of a skull and a snake there. How surprising.

He'd tried to get a good look on him earlier, while they'd brewed the potion but he dark fire in Snape's gaze had made him stop his attempts.

Damn the professor. Still favoring his own house.

Hair slicked back, looking darker when wet, Draco swum around a little, his movements hindered slightly by his wand that he was holding tight. He noticed even Potter and Weasley hadn't gone far from their wands. There was a top of a large rock peeking from the depths, a convenient table of sorts to place a wand while you were soaping up.

There was some splashing and even laughter as Ron and Harry washed themselves. They didn't linger in the water for long. Harry had a nagging feeling between his shoulderblades, and didn't want to stay away from the cottage for too long. Ron on the other hand didn't want to stay here long enough for Snape to come and fetch them. That would certainly be embarrassing.

Even more embarrassing than climbing out of the water, just knowing that Malfoy was watching.

Toweling himself dry, Ron couldn't help casting furtive looks at Malfoy. If the creep was going to stare, then so was he. It was really a pity that Snape was there in the cottage with them, otherwise he would have definitely made all the comments springing to his mind. He decided to use the natural blond one later. Maybe someday it would come handy.

Harry blinked a little as he saw his friend check out Malfoy and then mutter something to himself. He was definitely not going to say anything about that. Ron was behaving strangely towards Malfoy anyway. With a simple joke, he might explode and attack the Slytherin again.

Sometimes he wondered if the Weasleys and the Blacks were distant relatives.

The sun was lower in the sky, making its way towards the horizon. After drying up, all three teenagers dressed in clean clothes and then headed towards the cottage. Eppy probably had the dinner served already, and she'd be pissed if they were late.

Feeling wonderful, Harry headed to the kitchen area as soon as he'd hung his robe in the coat rack. He wasn't exactly hungry, but knew that as soon as Eppy brought the tray in, his stomach would probably start growling, like Ron's was already. "Swimming always did make you hungry." It reminded him of Fred and George, who always seemed to love teasing their little brother about his healthy appetite.

"Yep." Ron grinned. "It's good Eppy's not as good a cook as my mum is." If they spent more days working on potions like that, he'd munch way too much food every evening after baths.

He really hoped there wouldn't be any more evenings like this. Bathing with a git like Malfoy wasn't exactly his idea of fun. Shivering at the disgusting thought, he glanced to his left.

Unfortunately Draco was still smiling at the homely comment. It was a bit wistful smile, his mind in the one person he couldn't bear to think about right now. He had no idea if his mother could even cook. Narcissa Malfoy had probably never even been in the kitchen of the vast mansion.

"And what are you grinning at?"

The smile disappeared from Malfoy's face. He shrugged, "Nothing." Once again, he lowered his gaze to the tabletop. It seemed to be a trend these days, he simply didn't think he was supposed to yell at Weasley anymore. There was a hint of the old anger and annoyance inside him, though. One day Weasley would push him at the wrong moment, and he'd find out that this new veneer of congeniality wouldn't cover all occasions.

Ron was still glaring at Malfoy. He hated the way the git could make him uncomfortable with just one look or word.

The tension in the small room was palpable.

"I trust you three can manage spending a little more time on your own." His voice a bit skeptic, Snape appeared at the doorway. He was carrying a large towel and a small bag that obviously held glass jars and vials.

He could well read the atmosphere and glared at Weasley. It was amazing how some things never changed. It was probable that there was no shared heritage with him and a certain other stubborn Gryffindor -- and Snape sneered at the thought of Ron Weasley even trying to become an Animagus, since whatever he'd become, it would undoubtedly be ginger in coloration, thusly an easy prey for any predator -- but it seemed some traits were indeed House bound.

"Are you going to take a bath?" Even though it was obvious, Harry asked anyway. He ignored the way his friend snorted at that, knowing Ron wasn't suicidal enough to make comments about Snape and bathing.

Snape turned his attention to Harry. "What a brilliant deduction, Potter. It's a shame I'm no longer in position to reward your House for your astonishing intelligence."

Ignoring both the way Ron bristled and Malfoy smirked, Harry raised an eyebrow. "You're going out there alone?" The weird feeling between his shoulderblades was back.

"Yes. Amazingly enough, I can manage bathing alone."

"Well you said yourself that no one should go wandering alone. I thought we agreed on it." Harry should have known Snape would exclude himself from the rule. The man was the most stubborn person he knew.

The quietly spoken words made Snape glare.

Ron nudged his friend and whispered, "Are you insane?" He was certainly not going to insist that one of them should follow Snape. No way! He'd rather go back to Hogwarts and move into the small cave in the Forbidden Forest. Acromantulas weren't that bad compared to their Potions master; he'd get along with Aragog just fine.

"No." It wasn't clear to whom Harry was speaking, but his gaze was firmly fixed on Snape. "We're all in danger here. You can't bathe and guard your back at the same time."

"Fine." Without other words, Snape turned around, and disappeared from sight. The others could well hear him mutter, "Gryffindors and their idiotic interpretations of rules."

There was a short silence, as the three young men looked at each other. Ron's expression was sullen. He was definitely not going to volunteer. Actually, he would fight till death if they told him he had to go. Looking a bit hesitant, Draco wondered if the others thought he should go. It didn't really feel right.

He might trust Snape, but he was also hesitant of pushing the man. It didn't matter that he'd always favored him in class; that had probably been a ruse to placate his father anyway. He didn't really know Snape, and certainly had no idea where he stood with him.

Harry rolled his eyes. "I'd better go after him." He was on his feet before anyone could say a word. "Save us some dinner, and please try not to kill each other, okay?"

He didn't stay to wait for any replies to that.

It was still crisp outside. Harry was glad he'd remembered to grab his thicker robes as he jogged to catch up with Snape. It was quite obvious the man wasn't expecting anyone to actually follow him. Too bad. He wasn't going to risk anyone's life now.

Reaching Snape, Harry slowed down, and walked alongside him to the riverbank. He knew better than to start an argument right now. Any words -- and probably even breathing too hard -- would quite likely be considered as a prelude to one.

Snape headed to the same spot they'd left their clothes at. He cast a warning glance at Harry before arranging his vials and bottles down on the ground. The glance turned into a glare a moment later as he realized the boy hadn't taken the hint.

"Oh. Sorry." Not sounding at all apologetic, Harry turned his back on Snape, keeping a firm hold on his wand as he scanned the surroundings. He knew it was highly unlikely anyone would actually attack them now, but he wanted to be sure. It didn't feel right to actually leave Snape alone here.

Even if it was exactly what the man wanted.

Still glaring at Harry's turned back, Snape removed his clothing, piling them neatly on the ground. He crouched down to cast the same charm as Draco had just half an hour ago before stepping into the water. Knowing that Harry could probably manage to actually watch his back -- not literally of course -- he left his wand on a rock rising up from the shallow water.

The warm water felt divine. Snape enjoyed the currents caressing his skin for a long moment before reaching for the soap. The small bowl of water and occasional charms had been enough until now, but this was the first time he truly felt clean for days.

Trying not to think about the annoying brat standing only a couple of steps away, he started to wash himself clean.

Running his fingers through his still damp hair, Harry stared off into the distance.

He liked it in here. It was peaceful. There was no one in sight, the small movement near the bushes just a bird seeking for food. The only sound the splashing of water as Snape bathed in the stream behind him.

The water was just as cold as one might have thought it would be this time of year. With that little charm from Malfoy, it had just been refreshing. Bathing hadn't been an ordeal, even though Ron had looked really flustered as he'd stood in the water.

Had to be because of Malfoy. Harry smiled slightly at that. He didn't like the Slytherin, and doubted he ever would, but he did seem to have a funny effect on Ron.

He'd have to remember to tease his best friend about Malfoy later. About the sudden bout of modesty he seemed to have around the blond.

After years of using the big shower in the locker room and the smaller one adjoining the dormitory, Harry didn't have any problems being naked around other men. Especially ones he considered as friends. However, there were those who brought confusing thoughts. He doubted he could really keep his cool if he tried to bathe right now.

Being naked with Snape standing right there, equally naked was definitely a confusing thought. Harry could feel heat rise to his face and frowned. There shouldn't be anything weird about the thought of a naked Snape.

He was a human being like all the rest of them. It wasn't as if the robes he always wore were a part of him.

Naked Snape.

Something he couldn't really imagine; Snape without clothes on not all that far from him. Splashing in the stream, just like he had a moment earlier.

Harry tried to push the thought away from his mind, but his curiosity was already peaked.

To many in Hogwarts Snape probably resembled a boogie man more than a person and it was just the image he so obviously wanted everyone to have. It had been a long process to start seeing the professor as a human being. Right now wondering about him as a person who could well be without clothes didn't seem like such a big thing.

Harry stood there, frozen in place. It was a fascinating idea, really. Naked people without any masks or covers. Naked Snape.

Slowly, he turned around to face the stream, feeling his heart pound in his chest. This was probably the most idiotic thing he'd ever done, but he couldn't help it. He just had to see.

Snape was standing in the stream with his back to Harry. He'd already soaked completely, his black hair hanging wet and limp.

The sight made Harry swallow hard. Snape was washing his arm, the wash cloth leaving a trail of white suds on the pale skin. The movement was making the muscles on his back flex.

It was almost hypnotic. Strong, even strokes of the cloth. A pause, and then the same thing on his other arm, soap blurring the Dark Mark, almost hiding it from sight. The touch didn't linger there, it went on as if there was nothing remarkable about the symbol.

Harry didn't know what he'd expected. He knew Snape's skin was pale, almost sallow, but it was still strange to see that he was like that all over. Not exactly muscled, more... average in form.

Lean figure. Snape's arms looked firm and strong, even though his shoulders weren't broad; a proof of years of stirring potions and chopping up ingredients. Finishing with his arms, the wash cloth was now making circling movements on the man's sides, making Harry focus his gaze there. More skin. Naked skin. Soapy water oozing down, trailing over his hip before trickling to the pond.

There were thin scars covering his back, some running down to his buttocks. Harry didn't even want to think of what might have caused them. It was apparent they weren't recent ones.

Scars and skin. Harry stared. Surprisingly firm skin, the curve of Snape's arse barely visible above the water level. He swallowed. The sight was alluring, making him wish Snape hadn't waded so deep into the stream.

More splashing, and now there was water running down Snape's back. He was rinsing the suds off.

Still, Harry couldn't turn his gaze away. He was fascinated.

Pale skin, faint silvery lines on it. Then with a blur it turned into something smoother, planed. It took Harry a moment to realize Snape had turned around and that he was now staring at his chest.

While Snape was very obviously now staring at him.

"Mr. Potter." Voice icy, Snape glared at him, not saying anything else. It was clear what he meant.

Closing his eyes, Harry quickly spun around. "Sorry." He knew he sounded like a toad with that croak, but it was the only thing he could really squeeze out. He wished he was about Trevor's size too. Small enough to disappear into the grass and hop away, never to face Snape again.

He couldn't banish the image of Snape's body from his mind. His surprisingly hairless chest, the skin that looked soft. A few burn marks on his left side, looking like something hot had splattered on him. Probably from a bubbling cauldron.

Snape didn't look anything like Harry's fellow Gryffindors did. He wasn't a teenager with his body still shaping. There were signs of a harsh life on him. Body showing his age.

But damn he looked good. It was something Harry definitely didn't want to think about. Not like that.

The more he tried not to think about Snape, the more his stupid mind concentrated on what he'd just seen. Typical.

His fingers brushed against the small wrinkly scar on his wrist; a memento of an attack a few years back. The Death Eaters had come after him, one holding a long dagger instead of a wand. The blade had cut him deep enough to leave a scar, but not deep enough to threaten his life.

The old wound didn't look anything like the marks on Snape's back. Not a silvery and smooth-looking scar.

He wondered what they would feel like under his touch. The thought made him feel really uncomfortable suddenly. It was weird to think about Snape like this. He knew the nasty professor was really a human being, but thinking about him as a person, and then imagining pawing him were two different things.

Harry kept his gaze firmly fixed on a bush in the distance, trying not to listen to the sounds coming from behind him. The splashing was getting louder, indicating that Snape was climbing out of the stream.

Naked Snape, dripping water. Probably glaring at his back, eyes gleaming with anger.

The shivers running down his spine were definitely a weird reaction to that thought. He should have been terrified. Instead, he was more...

"Damn it!"

The words were growled out with a pained voice. There was more splashing.

Harry turned around, his wand ready to fight any attacker. Instead of seeing dark robed men rushing to them, he could only see Snape. The man had managed to get out of the water, his robe loosely wrapped around his waist as he staggered towards a jar he'd left on the bank.

"What is it? What's going on?" Harry could see the agony on Snape's face. It was clear the man was in pain, but he had no idea what was causing it.

The word escaping Snape was quite probably 'idiot'. It was hard to tell, because of the harsh grunt surrounding it. Gaze burning with impotent rage, he took one more step, and then swayed, trying to stay on his feet. He didn't quite manage, falling flat on his face a moment later.

"Snape!" There was definitely something wrong with the man. "What is it? Let me help you." Knowing the words were simply going to gain him yet another deadly glower, Harry rushed closer to Snape.

Whose whole world was spinning, turning into a hazy nightmare. "The salve. Hurry!"

Harry didn't see the small jar at first. It was conveniently hiding under Snape's outer robes on the ground. He grabbed it as soon as he spotted it, wrenching the jar open and then handing it out to Snape. His gaze was full of worry as he watched Snape reach out with a trembling hand.

"Keep it steady." Grounding the words out from between clenched teeth, Snape tried again, this time managing to get a gob of the green salve on his fingers. He ignored the fact that his robe was slipping. Nothing mattered but the burn on his forearm, the pulsating agony that would only intensify until his whole being burned.

He slapped the salve on his skin, hissing as it made the pain only grow. Warm fingers came to hold his arm, keeping it in place. With quick, precise movements, he spread the potion all over the Dark Mark, covering the tattoo completely under the protective barrier of the potion.

The relief that flooded over him a moment later almost made him groan. Head bowed, he stayed where he knelt, breathing heavily. It was always a bliss, the absence of pain. For many years it had been the only ecstasy he'd felt.

Shivers were starting to run down his spine after a moment. The evening air was cooler than the water had been. He realized that the robe he'd wrapped around his waist in haste had slipped almost completely off, leaving him nearly naked.

And Harry Potter was still steadying his arm.

"Don't! Don't touch... it." The growl was instinctive. Snape could only remember two times he'd voluntarily shown anyone his arm like this. First to Dumbledore years and years ago. Then to that idiot Fudge after the disastrous Triwizard tournament.

His dark secret that wasn't so much of a secret anymore. The symbol of evil right there for everyone to see. How strange that he would now shy from having Harry see it, for the boy had already seen it once and had even made something akin to a casual comment about it.

"I won't touch it. I promise!" Harry didn't let go of the arm. His grip wasn't strong, Snape could yank his hand away whenever he wanted to. The fact that he hadn't already done so was amazing. "What happened? Was he calling you? Can he hurt you through it? Track you somehow? Are you all right?"

The questions all tumbled out, uncensored.

Snape raised his gaze, his eyes blank. He couldn't understand the absence of disgust and pity in Harry's voice. There had been signs of those emotions in Albus' eyes as he'd watched him roll up his sleeve. Horror in Fudge's gaze as he'd seen the mark. No one had ever seemed truly worried about him before.

"I'm perfectly fine, Potter." Slowly pulling his arm from the surprisingly gentle grip, Snape stood up. He remembered to get a hold of his robe the last moment.

It made Harry blush, and turn away.

Pulling on his clothes, Snape gathered his thoughts for a moment. His personal business was just that. Personal. Still, this could have effects on them all. It was Order business as well, in a way, and he would share it with this one person who might one day need it. "That was Vo.. You-Know-Who reminding me of his existence." As if he could ever forget.

"He made the Dark Mark hurt you." Not really a question.

"Yes. It burns when he wants his Death Eaters to come to him. It also burns if he concentrates on one of us; a way to either summon or... punish." An almost fool proof way to ensure peoples' loyalty.

It had taken Snape years to find the small book containing the instructions how to brew this particular potion. Even when everyone had thought the Dark Lord had perished, he'd been obsessed with the idea of a barrier potion. He was now glad of his persistence.

Harry nodded, even though he wasn't facing Snape. The gesture was automatic. "And track you?" He knew it was a stupid question even as it escaped him. If Voldemort could track Snape through the damn mark, he would have done so a long ago.

"No." Pulling on his outer robe, Snape looked up to the boy who was still standing there, with his back turned to him. His ears were visibly red. "You may turn around if you wish to."

There was a glint in Harry's eyes as he turned around. "All decent."

Neither even tried to pretend that Snape's glare was anything but amused. "Of course." He wanted to make some nasty comments about Harry's peeking earlier, but couldn't really find the energy.

"So... Will you be all right now? Will that potion keep Voldemort from hurting you?" Harry hated the way his voice cracked, but he didn't turn his gaze away. It seemed that he wasn't too worried to be embarrassed.

He didn't see any real anger or malice in Snape's eyes. He was simply looking at him. Assessing him somehow. Harry didn't know what that meant.

"Yes." Something changed in Snape's gaze. It was as if shutters had come down, hiding any true emotion. "We should go. We're already late for dinner, Potter." Snatching up his jars and vials, Snape gestured towards the cottage.

There were dozens of questions in Harry's mind. He wanted to know more about the mark and the potion dampening it, wanted to ask Snape about the scars. Was really curious about things he didn't want to even admit to himself.

He just nodded, leading the way back to their small hideaway. Snape didn't look like he was going to offer any more information tonight, and he really was hungry. There would be time to think about this later, maybe even find some answers.

Now it was time for dinner.

---

Part 5

Bathing had indeed made all the teenagers hungry. When Harry and Snape arrived back at the cottage, dinner had already been served. Seeing the bowls full of food made Harry forget about his questions for the moment. It was enough to just eat.

There was a weird silence surrounding them all.

Ron was still bristling with annoyance. He didn't like being left alone in this place with Malfoy. Especially when they were both in the same room.

The Slytherin didn't even have to say anything to irritate him. Somehow just seeing the blond made his skin crawl.

Seeing Harry go after Snape all alone didn't really help. It simply made him worry about his friend while scowling at Malfoy. He didn't trust the Slytherins. Snape might be a teacher, but that didn't really mean a thing here. There could be all kinds of possibilities for an accident. Like drowning. No one would suspect the good spy Snape if something happened to Harry.

He'd been relieved to see Harry walk back into the dining area, even with Snape following him a moment later. He'd thought Harry looked a bit weird, but then again who wouldn't after an ordeal like that?

They ate dinner in silence, concentrating on the food.

"The weekend is coming up. I think we should take a break from the classes for now." Snape placed his napkin on the empty plate. He didn't have much of an appetite right now.

The uncharacteristic words made even Ron stare. Had he heard right? Snape was giving them days off?

"There are chores to be done. Cleaning. Doing laundry. You should also study on your own. I do believe you're ready to take the written exam on Monday."

Even though they had all studied for the Potions exam, Ron, Harry and Draco all gasped at that.

Snape hid the rather evil grin by sipping from his cup, enjoying the heat that spread through him as he swallowed the hot liquid. There was nothing that made him feel better than strong tea and the look of utter panic on the faces of his students.

It was good to slip into the routine he knew well. He enjoyed the certainty it brought, driving away the momentary lapse in his concentration. It also made sure Harry didn't have the time to pester him with intimate questions.

"But... But... Sir, we... " Realizing that he'd just sound like Lavender, stuttering and staring like an idiot, Ron shut his mouth. He looked down at his plate, glad that he'd already finished. The thought of actually eating now that his stomach was clenching with total panic was nauseating.

It seemed Snape was the only one willing to linger with a cup of tea.

Harry was the first to get up. He collected all the dishes on the tray, shaking his head as Ron tried to help him. "No, I'm all right. You go and read or something." He needed to be alone with his thoughts, and didn't mind spending some time in front of a sink while thinking.

"Okay."

Washing the dirty dishes was actually calming. It had always been a sort of a refuge back at Privet Drive. His own way of hiding in plain sight. Harry smiled a bit as Eppy tried to stay awake to supervise his work. She was not really fooling anyone, sitting next to the wall, her head lolling to the side.

The snoring kind of gave her away.

Harry kept his mind occupied by thinking about the Potions exam. He'd been reading for it for weeks now. Unless Snape decided to torment them with the most difficult potions in the books, he would probably pass.

Maybe.

If he spent the next days working hard, and reading every waking moment.

He could do it. Studying would be a good thing. The thick and boring Potions books would be a good distraction, taking his thoughts away from what had just happened.

Not that anything had happened. Not really. Harry rinsed the plate he was holding, trying to convince himself of that. It didn't exactly work. He'd stopped lying to himself about the obvious things some time ago.

He decided not to think about that now. Snape had made it painfully obvious that he wasn't going to talk about the thing with him, so brooding about nonsense was futile.

It was already getting dark outside as he finally stepped into the small living room. It was cozy to sit here with the others, enjoying the fire blazing in the fireplace. The evenings were still chilly, and unlike earlier that day, the heat was pleasurable.

The room was well illuminated by dozens of candles. They had to be magical candles, because their tiny flames didn't flicker as he brushed by a few of them on his way to the couch where Ron was sprawling.

Reading.

Harry smiled a little. He could see Ron was concentrating on what he was reading, barely acknowledging him as he sat down next to him. Pushing Ron's legs out of his way, he took a good position himself, opening one of the books he'd carried with him.

It was actually nice to just sit here and read. Ron wasn't glaring at Malfoy, who was definitely not cringing. Snape was looking a bit relaxed sitting there with a scroll and a quill. Probably writing down the questions that would haunt their nightmares.

A small group of people spending a nice quiet evening studying. Hermione would be so proud of them.

Opening his book, Harry suppressed a sigh, and started reading. With luck, he'd even understand some of the things he read.

There was no real silence in the room, the sound of pages being turned and Snape's quill scraping the parchment surprisingly loud. Fear of flunking even a part of the exam was keeping everyone alert when the mellow atmosphere would have otherwise lulled at least Ron into a stupor.

Draco finished a chapter of memory potions and then closed the book, stretching a little. He didn't really need to read through everything again. Duty and discipline had been drilled into him from early childhood. His father had always told him to do his best in all things.

When he'd gone to Hogwarts, he'd been informed that he should be the top of his class, especially in Charms and Potions. He'd never really wondered why it was so important to excel in Potions until he'd seen the subtle tension between his father and professor Snape.

It had been clear then. No son of Lucius Malfoy would be a disappointment in something that was taught by the Head of the Slytherin House. It was a fortune Draco had actually liked Potions. The small speech Snape had given in the beginning of the first year had really made an impression on him.

Potions meant power. Therefore he would do his best to learn everything.

He didn't feel like reading now, but didn't know what else to do. Chores? Snape would probably tell him to do something. He just wished it would be something simple. How amazing that the most complex potions were easier to understand than the basics of cleaning.

Draco smiled a little. He'd had no idea of how dismal this kind of a life could be. One house elf and the dreaded outhouse were definitely not what he'd used to.

The fire in the fireplace was slowly dying. It took Draco a moment to realize that there wouldn't be any rush of small creatures carrying logs in a hurry. He wasn't ready to go to bed yet, so he'd better do something about the fire.

Before he could actually do anything about it, there was a sound of a scroll being placed on the small table. Snape got to his feet without words and headed to the doorway to get more wood.

Ron raised his gaze from his book, staring at Snape with his mouth slightly open. He nudged at Harry, who barely cast a look at the professor before turning his attention back on the text.

"It will probably rain tonight." Adding more wood to the fire, Snape mused out loud. It was a safe guess, since it had rained almost every day. He stood up, his gaze still on the merrily burning logs. "Close the shutters before going to bed, gentlemen. And Mr. Malfoy. If you've finished with your book, you could go and fetch some more wood."

Since Draco had planned on visiting the outhouse anyway, he nodded immediately. "Of course, sir." As he got up, he could see Ron glare at him.

"Arse-kisser!"

It was muttered barely loud enough for him to hear. He didn't show any signs of hearing it, simply walking out of the room as if nothing had happened.

The visit to the outhouse was brief as always. Draco hated the place, especially when it was dark outside. The small light inside always seemed to draw in all sorts of crawling little creatures. He didn't mind chopping up various insects and arachnids into potions, but having a large multitude of them jump or fly around his head was always a bit disgusting.

Finishing with his business, he hurried to the small wood pile behind the house. He didn't know why they had to bother with the firewood. There was always a small neat pile of logs back here. If someone had bothered to charm them here, why not make them appear right next to the fireplace?

He knew that asking would only get him glares from various people, so he probably shouldn't bother. He didn't mind if it was Snape glaring at him. It was his job after all, now more than ever. But he was quite sure if he saw Ron Weasley make a face at him, he would probably snap and commit murder.

The first drops of rain started to fall down right as Draco shut the door behind him. He was glad he'd actually managed to get inside before the downpour began.

After piling the logs into the basket by the door, he wondered whether to go upstairs, or stay here for a while longer. He noticed Weasley had already gone to bed. Seeing that as a sign, he decided not to go up just yet.

It was nice and quiet here, especially now that no one was glaring at him whenever he dared to make a move. Draco leaned back on the couch, wondering if he should just relax and maybe doze off here.

"May I ask you something, Mr. Malfoy?"

Draco's eyes widened as he heard Snape's almost-question. Sitting up straight, he nodded instinctively. "Of course, sir." The professor hadn't really talked to him since those first days.

"Do you enjoy playing the role of the redeemed villain, or are you perhaps going through some phase where you need to act as a doormat?" This time it sounded more like a real question.

He was sure he was asleep. Dreaming. Draco could only stare at his professor.

Seeing that the boy had no idea of what he was talking about, Snape added, "You seem to have the notion that you should mope around in silence, brooding about all the evil things you have or might have done in your life. That you deserve every jibe thrown at you. I must admit that it was entertaining in the beginning, but it's getting old very fast."

"I... I... But..." Wondering if he'd heard it correctly, Draco glanced at Potter, who was now sprawled on the other couch. No. Potter seemed as poleaxed as he was. "Excuse me, sir?"

Snape was quiet for a moment, staring at him with a strange expression on his face. Then he said, "This thing you're doing, it doesn't really suit you. You never used to be meek around Gryffindors, especially around Mr. Weasley, and you most certainly didn't use to suffer idiots."

"No, sir." Draco shook his head.

"I understand your decision not to join the Dark Lord, but I don't understand this need for self flagellation." Cruel amusement seeped into Snape's voice. He sounded quite convincing even in his own ears. Bored and mocking. "I do wonder if there were some Hufflepuffs in your ancestry."

He knew where to aim to get the response he wanted. Some things never changed.

Draco couldn't hide the anger in his gaze as he replied, "You know better than that, sir." He noticed the deliberate baiting, but couldn't really keep his mouth shut.

"Good. Then stop acting like an idiot." Snape had watched the new routine long enough. It was time his ward tried to find some kind of a balance. This timid house elf -thing he was doing was just as bad as the haughtiness and the scathing comments about his father and pureblood supremacy had been.

It was a complete shock to Draco. He'd thought this was what was expected of him now. After all, he'd done everything in his power to torment Potter and his little friends. Shouldn't he try not to do anything like that anymore?

He stared at Snape, and suddenly realized it didn't matter what people might expect of him. The thought left him empty inside. All his life, he'd tried to follow the path his father had shown him. He'd been a good son, a good Slytherin. A good carbon copy of Lucius Malfoy.

That was all over now.

Hiding and cowering had been somehow logical. He'd done his best not to be anything like he had been. To be quite honest, wallowing in self-pity had even been enjoyable at moments.

It couldn't continue. He knew that now. It would just make people annoyed, or worse, they would pity him. His pride would never allow that.

"Yes, sir." It was only a whisper.

Snape heard it and nodded. He wasn't sure if it was the right time, but somehow seeing young Malfoy cringe at Weasley's comments was too much for him right now. His arm was tingling as the potion worked, but the pale ghost of unbearable pain was still haunting his mind. It reminded him of all the things he'd failed in. Things this boy could avoid, but only if he was strong enough.

Most of the wizarding world might never accept Draco Malfoy. His father would be hated for a long time after the Dark Lord fell. If he fell. It would affect the way everyone saw him. It was unfair, but it was life.

At least now Malfoy wouldn't simply accept all the sneers and nasty comments he would hear. Wouldn't think he really was inferior somehow because of the things taught to him from early childhood.

Harry didn't even try to hide his staring behind the book. He'd been stunned of Snape's words at first, but then he'd been intrigued to see just exactly how Malfoy would react.

The brief flicker of anger in the grey eyes had reminded him of the arrogant bastard who'd offered him his hand years ago. That Malfoy had been lost ever since he'd laid his wand in front of Snape in the Great Hall. Now it seemed he was coming back. Probably not all at once, considering the thoughtful expression on Malfoy's face.

But he was coming back.

He didn't really know what to think about it. Having the old Malfoy back would definitely be annoying. Especially if he started sprouting his pureblood propaganda. But in a way it would be good to see him answer to Ron's jibes. Harry didn't like the way his friend acted with Malfoy, even though he did have a damn good reason for it.

Having Malfoy fight back would make things lot more equal between those two. It wouldn't really hurt anyone.

Harry turned his gaze to Snape only to see that the man was looking at him with cold amusement plainly on his face. He didn't say anything, but did raise an eyebrow.

Deciding not to comment on that, Harry smiled a little and then returned to his book.

The hard patter of rain against the windows was somehow soothing. Harry tried to concentrate on the Potions text, but found it impossible to actually remember anything he'd read. The steady sound was lulling him into a daze, and eventually he just lay there on the couch, listening to the rain.

After a while, he realized he would probably fall asleep right here if he didn't get up immediately. It was tempting, reminding him of the nights he'd spent in Snape's rooms.

He doubted he'd feel all that refreshed in the morning if he spent the night here. Besides, Snape would go to his own bedroom for the night. Sleeping all alone with only the few portraits as his company didn't sound inviting.

"I'm going to bed." Clambering to his feet, Harry collected his books. He cast a careful look at Snape. "Good night."

The reply was quiet. "Good night, Potter." Snape's voice was calm, toneless.

Harry wished Malfoy was up in his room. Wished he'd insisted on finishing the conversation he and Snape had started at the river instead of hiding from it.

He wanted to talk to Snape and yet at the same time, he had no idea of what to say to him. Maybe all his thoughts would come out as an incoherent ramble. Of course Snape probably wouldn't mind. It wouldn't be the first time he'd done something like that.

This time, Harry would mind. He didn't want to just babble about things without thinking about them first.

It seemed he was forced to have some time to think about things. Snape was sitting there, his long nose buried into the book he was reading. As if he was hiding from Harry. Showing him he was definitely not going to have any kind of a conversation with him tonight.

Feeling a bit annoyed about leaving Malfoy and Snape in the living room, Harry walked across the hallway and then went upstairs.

Ron was already asleep as he got to their room. He walked around softly, even though he knew from experience nothing short of a minor earthquake would wake his friend up. Placing his books on the table, he started removing his clothes. He even managed not to throw them on the floor, unlike Ron.

Harry pulled the covers to the side. He stared at the sheets for a moment, and then sighed. Apparently Eppy didn't change bedsheets either. And they were getting a bit rancid.

At least there was no one in the corridor as he sneaked out of his room. The last thing he needed was to bump into Malfoy.

The whole trip to the linen closet and then back to his room went without incident. Harry worked quickly, not really bothering to get the corners straight. The sheets would be rumpled in a couple of minutes anyway. He remembered to close the shutters -- since Ron so obviously hadn't -- and got ready for bed.

The sheets were wonderfully clean. They even smelled clean and not like something that had been on a shelf in a small dusty closet for months, like they had probably been.

Harry buried his face in his pillow, inhaling the scent. He liked it. Clean sheets against his clean skin.

On the other side of the room, Ron was snoring slightly. Harry didn't even have to look at him to know that he was lying on his back, his left leg bent into a weird angle. Ron always slept like that when he snored.

It was one of the things Harry just knew. Something seven years of living together had burned into his mind. Unlike real schoolwork, this was something he never had to think about. Never had to question, or struggle to remember. It was constant.

Not many things in his life were. Those with a clear pattern were usually ones that induced nightmares. Hot summer nights spent staring at the ceiling that was covered with spider webs and small cracks that would send a rain of sawdust falling on his face in the morning, if by some chance Dudley would be up before he was. Weekly predictions of doom that always seemed only a little ludicrous when professor Trelawney said them in the well lit but smokey chambers of hers, and worrying in the middle of the night, when Harry was once again thinking about the monster who had killed his parents. Losing everyone who was dear to him.

There were good things too. He couldn't deny it. Hermione's mind, that seemed always as sharp. The friendship that had grown between him and Ron. The love Sirius was never embarrassed about showing to him. All constant things. Things that he never took for granted, even when he knew that maybe he should. Maybe he should stop worrying about it all ending some day.

Ron rolled over to his side, his face squashed against the pillow, and the snoring ended.

The silence made Harry feel slightly uncomfortable. As if there should be other sounds echoing in the room. Deep breathing. Neville talking in sleep. Floorboards creaking as Seamus padded to get a glass of water.

That was what his world had been about. Not exactly a constant thing. Yuletide and summer were different, with him alone in the dormitory or back at Privet Drive. Then there were the short periods of bliss when he was surrounded by creaking old walls and the sound of the ghoul banging around in the attic was simply background noise he didn't even register but would miss if it was gone.

Sensations had always been meaningful to Harry, before he'd found people he could trust. Even now, with friends and something resembling a real family unlike his blood relatives who were a bad joke, he relied in familiar scents and sounds.

Home was not the cold house with a very convenient cupboard under the stairs. Home was the dark silhouette of the old castle painting against the blue sky. It was the sound of people coming and going, the scent of sulfur and chocolate and herbs.

Harry had known that from the beginning. From the first weeks he'd lived in Hogwarts.

His family had nothing to do with blood relatives. Family members shared the dormitory with him. Family was a group of redheads, who seemed to care about him for himself and not because he was supposed to be a hero. It was the strong wiry arms coming around him, the earthy scent of Sirius' hair surrounding him.

It was family and it was love. The kind of love that everyone needed to survive. There was other kind of love as well. The sweet innocent infatuation he'd known when he'd been younger. Hot pulsating desire that could fill his whole being. Lust when seeing the curve of a breast or strong muscles. Or like Ron said, seeing a nice round arse.

Wonderful emotions and sensations, but ones he wouldn't crave too much even when he had to live without. Unlike with the feeling of family.

He missed it. Missed Hogwarts, even with all the pressure he'd felt being surrounded by his classmates and the Order of the Phoenix. Missed Sirius and Hermione. But it was a dull ache, something he could deal with. After all, Ron was here with him; the first person in the whole wide world who'd ever called him a friend.

And Snape was here as well. Not exactly as a reminder of Hogwarts, of home, not acting in Sirius' place as a surrogate parent. Harry smiled a little. Snape was more a friend than anything, no matter how disgusted he'd be of the use of such a word.

There was that weird feeling in his belly again; the one that had fluttered there back in Hogwarts when he'd watched Snape stagger from the shower all exhausted. That had only intensified ever since, almost exploding into heat as he'd stood at the river bank earlier today.

Punching his pillow, Harry rolled over. He didn't want to spend the night thinking about crazy things, like naked Snape. Definitely not naked Snape. He'd already wasted so many evenings contemplating the man. He did know he was a human by now; not a monster, and not just a teacher.

There was no reason to wallow in that anymore. He knew himself, and knew that in no time he'd start to worry about things and then brood on them. Snape was one of the good things in his life. Nothing to brood about.

Harry squeezed his eyes shut, trying to empty his head of all weird thoughts.

Still, as he drifted off to sleep, his mind was filled with images of droplets of water running down pale skin

---

Part 6

Harry felt like crap the next morning.

He'd slept poorly, dreaming about things that made him jolt awake in the middle of the night. He had no memory of what he'd dreamed of, but he was willing to bet that they'd been nightmares. Why else would his heart race when he sat up, the sheets twisted around his legs?

It had taken him some time to fall asleep again, and even then he hadn't slept well.

Casting annoyed looks at Ron, he stomped downstairs. Sometimes he really couldn't handle cheery people this early in the morning.

Eppy served them breakfast, looking as grouchy as always. She muttered to herself as she left them to eat, banging the empty tray against the door as she wobbled to the kitchen. The usual sight made Harry feel an odd kinship to the old house elf. At least she wasn't overly eager to work and be happy about it.

He ate in silence, not paying attention to the others. Ron was way too perky. He didn't care about Malfoy. And Snape... Somehow he felt uncomfortable under the dark gaze, so he kept his gaze on his cup, mumbling monosyllables every time Ron asked him something.

It was probably the most awkward meal they'd shared.

The sun was making its way high in the sky by the time Harry walked out to use the outhouse. It was a relief to get out, to leave the tension behind.

He spent a few minutes staring at the stream, his gaze going to the exact spot they had bathed in yesterday. There was something about that memory nagging at his mind. Probably the terror he'd felt when he'd spun around and thought he was going to see Death Eaters barging at them. He was certain it had been that terror that had haunted his dreams as well.

Shivering with cold, he finally went to take care of more pressing business.

After he finished, he stood there, tucking himself in. Returning back to the cottage felt somehow impossible. There were chores to do and things to study, but he simply couldn't go there yet.

Harry slammed the wooden lid down and then sat down on the seat.

This was ridiculous. He had no idea why he was feeling so annoyed all of a sudden. No, it wasn't simple annoyance. Frustration, the need to do something. Still, he sat here, not wanting to actually do anything about that restless feeling right now.

The Potions exam was probably the biggest reason for his odd feeling of unease. He wished they'd just get on with it. Spending a lot of time in the dungeons reading had to be enough. He wasn't a complete idiot. If he concentrated and tried not to ramble in his answers, he could pass the test.

Snape would probably make it really difficult and ask about some weird footnote on page four hundred on the most boring textbook. It was just like the man. In class, he was absolutely ruthless. Outside of it he was... Occasionally naked.

Harry groaned at the thought. He was wrong. Maybe he was a complete idiot. Sitting here in the smelly loo and thinking about Potions and nasty Potions masters. Yes. He was an idiot. A moron. A cretinous half-wit.

He would have to ask Snape for more useful terms to label himself with.

"Hey did you die in there?" Ron banged the side of the outhouse. He'd waited for Harry inside, but when he hadn't come back in ten minutes, he'd started to worry.

Of course the fact that Malfoy was bustling around the living room was making him irritated. Since Snape was there supervising his attempts to clean the windows, Ron had decided to just leave instead of making a few nasty but accurate comments about the bastard.

Harry jumped at the sound and then sighed. He should have known he couldn't have privacy anywhere. "No. Just a moment." He didn't want Ron to know he'd just been sitting there, thinking. He'd probably think he was insane. Hiding in a loo.

"Sure." Ron kicked the moss on the ground, trying not to seem too annoyed. "No hurry."

He'd felt so great this morning. There had been no dreams, so he'd woken up refreshed. He'd refused to think about Malfoy, happy to see that Snape wasn't forcing them to work together.

Everything was going to be all right.

"So. What are we supposed to do today?" Stepping out of the outhouse as if nothing special was going on, Harry looked at his friend. He was ready to start working. At least it would take his mind off everything else.

Ron shrugged. "Take out the rugs. There's supposed to be some clothes lines between the trees over there." He made a wide arch with his arm, ending up pointing at the small grove.

"Is that for just the two of us, or..." Seeing the answer in Ron's eyes, Harry smiled a little too. At least he didn't have to listen to the constant griping and bickering. He didn't mind Malfoy growing back his backbone, but he didn't want to listen to him and Ron fight. "And the others are doing something else?"

"Yeah. Malfoy's cleaning windows and Snape's doing something about the loo." Ron was actually not all that unhappy about the way things had turned out. There was no way he could have made any kind of a potion that would take care of all the problems an outhouse caused. With him, it would have probably meant a shovel and a scented rag over his nose.

For once, he was not griping about Snape and his potions.

Harry nodded. "Okay, so we just take out the rugs?" That sounded a bit odd, considering all the work Malfoy was doing.

"Of course not. You think Snape would ever actually give someone a break?" Ron was certain that would be the day when pigs would fly and professor McGonagall danced on the Head Table. With the Headmaster. Wearing pink dress robes.

The mental image was rather sickening.

Deciding against repeating that their dreaded professor was really not all that bad -- certain it wouldn't have any effect this time either -- Harry just shrugged. "Okay. So what do we do?"

"Well, after dusting the rugs, we'll make lunch, since apparently Eppy has other things to do." It had sounded like a very lame excuse, but Ron wasn't sure what it could be hiding. After all, Snape wasn't likely to force a house elf to have a day off. Not even one as old as Eppy. "Then clean our room and make dinner."

"Doesn't sound too bad." It could have been worse. Much worse.

Ron grunted. It wasn't as bad as he'd expected, but then again, Snape was a bastard. He'd probably have them scrub the floor with their toothbrushes tomorrow or something as pleasant as that.

"You know, if we'll have to cook today, we can eat whatever we want to." Eppy didn't seem to be interested in little things like desserts. Harry had actually missed the dinners at the Great Hall. The thought had brought a smile to his face. "How about some baked chicken for dinner and then maybe something for dessert?"

That made Ron grin broadly. "Sure!" All thoughts about a certain nasty Potions master using them as a slave labor vanished from his head as he walked back to the cottage with his friend.

"Okay, let's get to work."

There were surprisingly many rugs in the cottage. Ron scurried upstairs to gather the ones up there. He didn't think he could handle with the small room near the doorway. Even if Snape weren't in there, he wouldn't want to go anywhere near that place. The whole thought gave him the creeps.

Harry worked silently, trying to stay out of Malfoy's way while rolling up the huge living room rug. He watched the way one muttered word made a small film of soapy water cover the window before Malfoy raised the rag he was holding, wondering if it was really that simple. He'd washed windows back at Dursleys' and it had been hard work, carrying bails of water around and wiping all the suds off, polishing the glass until it shone.

Considering the look on Malfoy's face, this wasn't exactly easy either. Still, he never complained.

Finishing with the striped green and pale yellow rug in the hallway, Harry straightened himself and then looked at Snape's door. He was feeling strange. Nervous. As if going in there was somehow difficult.

He stood there for a moment, wondering why he was suddenly skittish about Snape. After all, they hadn't spoken about what had happened at the river after coming back to the cottage. He doubted they'd talk about it now. Snape wasn't the kind of man who'd want to talk about his past or Voldemort. It was actually a wonder he'd said as much as he had.

Harry hated the feeling of unease. This whole thing felt stupid -- no, he felt stupid. Following Snape to the riverside had been important to him. It didn't matter that the man was probably more than capable of taking care of himself, he simply didn't want to risk anything. It had been a logical decision to go with him.

Ogling at him while he bathed, well that had been foolish.

Seeing him without clothes wasn't the point. Harry wasn't sure what was. It couldn't be the fact he'd helped Snape with the potion, couldn't be the companionable silence they'd shared on their way back. Something was making him feel weird.

Pushing the uncomfortable feeling away, he knocked on Snape's door. "It's me. I'm here to take your rug out." The words made him grimace a little. Of course Snape already knew that.

"Come on in, Potter."

Harry walked in, looking a little sheepish. "Hi." He couldn't remember the last time he'd been this nervous around someone. Even his teenage crush to Cho hadn't really made him act this foolishly.

"Watch out for the books, they're rare." Gesturing with his hands at the heavy volumes piled on the floor, Snape nodded at Harry. "Try not to break anything."

The words made Harry smile. As if he hadn't heard that before. "I've never broken anything in your rooms yet, Snape." Seeing the challenging look, he amended, "Well, you know. The Potions classroom doesn't count."

"I'm glad to hear about your upmost respect towards Hogwarts property, Potter."

Since Harry was pretty sure he couldn't really say anything about that, he just snorted and then went to roll up the rug. He did make a show of moving the books out of way one at the time, careful not to even jostle the thin layer of dust from the one on top of the pile.

He didn't exactly hurry out of the room, but didn't feel the urge to linger either.

The morning passed quickly as he and Ron dusted the rugs. It wasn't hard to guess of whom Ron was thinking while he used the carpet beater on the rug. It was better than hitting the blond Slytherin, so Harry didn't say anything.

It was actually fun to dust the rugs. There weren't so many of them to make it feel like a real job. Also, the vigorous work out seemed to be just the thing they needed. Harry was definitely feeling better as they walked back to the cottage.

Preparing the lunch wasn't a big ordeal. Eppy kept the storage area clean and well stocked, probably using some house elf magic. There were plenty of things to choose from. Ron seemed to be in gastronomical heaven, making plans for the dinner already.

He kept babbling about it when they made simple sandwiches for lunch. Elaborated as they cleaned their room. Painted pictures of mounds of hot and greasy food as they brought the rugs back in. By the time they actually got to make dinner, Harry was ready to hex his friend.

Mostly because of the excessive plans would inevitably fall to him to fulfill.

Ron was a surprisingly bad cook. He didn't seem to have any idea on the basics of cooking. The thick sandwiches they'd made earlier were probably the extent of his skills.

It didn't really matter. As Harry went to work on the chicken, Ron chopped onions and carrots. He was pretty good at boiling water as well as carrying a heavy sack full of potatoes around the kitchen.

For a brief moment Harry could sympathize Snape. It wasn't easy to suffer people who had no idea what they were supposed to do.

He could understand Ron's ineptitude, though. His mother was an excellent cook, but since she had seven children to tend to, it was no wonder she didn't have time to teach them all how to cook as well. Harry couldn't really imagine Ron being enthusiastic about spending time in the kitchen and learning either. He'd probably spent all his childhood running around with his brothers, dreaming of Quidditch.

Smiling crookedly, Harry went on grinding the spices.

The dinner was served a bit late that day, but it was worth the wait. Eppy was nowhere to be seen, probably resenting their invasion on her domain. It was probably a good thing, since everyone dug in with enthusiasm. She would have been even grumpier after seeing that.

Harry smiled at the thought, wondering if Dobby knew Eppy. If not, he'd have to introduce those two to each other.

Having finished with the windows a few hours earlier, Draco had spent the rest of the day assisting Snape with his potion. He was exhausted as he sat at the dinner table, keeping his gaze on the food.

This was definitely not the kind of life he wanted. Remembering all the boring old tales professor Binns had told them, he wondered if this was supposed to teach him about the values of honest work. If so, it was a waste of time.

Not paying any attention to the people around him, he kept shoveling food into his mouth, barely tasting anything. He was definitely not going to spend the evening reading. As soon as he finished eating, he'd drag himself upstairs and try to collapse in bed. If he missed, he was sure the floor would be a comfortable place to sleep in.

Harry kept his eyes on Malfoy, looking for any signs of the old arrogance. He didn't really know what to think about him. The burning hatred had evaporated some time ago. After facing Voldemort and his Death Eaters, Draco Malfoy had just seemed to be a pathetic jerk, who was happily strolling towards his own doom.

That was no longer an option for him. Harry wondered if there'd be some kind of a change in Malfoy. If he'd become a real person instead of being a cliched bully.

Remembering how much fun he'd seemed to have all the time he'd humiliated and insulted others, he rather doubted Malfoy would ever be a person he'd like. But he would have to live with him.

That would be all right. He'd lived with worse.

It didn't look like he was going to go back to his old ways. At least not now. Malfoy seemed completely happy eating, not even making offensive comments about the chicken.

Harry cleared off the larger dishes when everyone seemed to be almost finished with their food. Then he brought back the tray they'd laden with delicacies found at the back of the cupboard. Placing it down on a table, he couldn't resist grinning at Ron. This was indeed a good deal, and if every dinner could end like this, he'd be willing to spend more time working in the kitchen.

The small tray full of desserts made Snape raise an eyebrow. Eppy had never served them sweets with meals, so now that the two Gryffindors had had the kitchen for themselves, he wasn't at all surprised they'd indulged in every sort of craving a growing boy might have. There were some of those foolishly named sweets people always seemed to spend their money on in that ghastly shop in Hogsmeade. A chunk of good old chocolate. And even a small bowl of...

Snape couldn't resist it. Grabbing the bowl, he offered, "Sherbet Lemon?" the sneer audible in his voice.

"Gwaaah?" Trying to squeal out the question, Ron dropped his fork and promptly started choking on the last piece of bread he'd stuffed into his mouth. It took some serious heaving until he cleared his airways.

"Well, thank you Snape. Awfully kind of you." Harry smiled sweetly as he accepted the bowl. "How about you Malfoy? Care for some?"

Draco was having some problems with breathing as well. Shaking his head vigorously, he reached out for a glass of water, his hand trembling slightly. He was determined not to splutter like Weasley.

Placing the bowl back on the table, Harry couldn't help looking at Snape. The flash of an evil grin on his face brought one on Harry's as well. Sometimes it was fun to shake people's convictions.

For the first time since the previous day, Harry felt the tension slip completely away.

The sweets disappeared quite quickly from the tray. All three teenagers looked happy as they munched various delicacies. Snape ate a bit of chocolate as he sipped his tea, not entirely pleased with the combined taste.

A true wizard, he had still missed the soothing taste of chocolate, always connecting it with healing.

Funny how he'd never thought about it before, but in all the years he'd spent with the Death Eaters, he'd never seen anyone eat chocolate there. They had indulged in every vice from drinking to illegal substances, but that simple pleasure had been missing.

He didn't have to think of a reason. It was quite obvious to him why none of them had wanted to think about Hogwarts or home or healing while serving the Dark Lord.

The thought lingered as he finished his tea and then walked back to the living room. Staying here was almost lulling them all into a false feeling of security. None of the threats of the real world had followed them here. Even he had pushed the memories of the masked figures to the back of his mind, not wishing to think about them now.

Ignorance could mean death to him. To all of them.

It was good that Harry had asked him to tutor them, this way he could do something useful. But after his students passed the exam -- and what a surprise it was to realize that they were all moderately well read -- they should start preparing for the reality waiting for them back at Hogwarts.

This was no real vacation, no matter how nice it had been to pretend for a while that it was.

Ignoring the clatter coming from the kitchen, and the tight expression on Malfoy as he came to sit by the fire, Snape wondered if they could ever actually sit and talk about the war. He knew Harry was able to think about their situation with a clear mind, aware of the cold facts of life.

With Malfoy and Weasley, it would be different. He doubted Weasley could let go of his anger. All of the redheaded Gryffindors had been stubborn, but this one seemed to take the trait to extremes. Not that he really blamed him. Young Malfoy could be a real bastard if he wanted to. Just like his father.

There lay the problem with Malfoy. He could be anything he wanted, but would he want to choose the hard way and start acting like a real human being or would he simply fall back into arrogance? Not that there was anything wrong with a healthy amount of arrogance, but like with Weasley and his stubbornness, sometimes there seemed to be no end to Malfoy's ego.

It would definitely be a problem. Instead of holding relatively quiet and reasonable meetings like the ones they'd had in Hogwarts, there would probably be shouting matches and signs of petty jealousies here.

Not something he was looking forward to.

Having finished with the dishes, Ron and Harry walked out of the kitchen, both looking exhausted. Harry curled on the other couch immediately, while Ron cast a suspicious look on Malfoy. He'd never seen him sit on the floor before, and wondered if he was up to something.

Trying to act as if he didn't notice the cold stare, Draco kept staring at the flames.

Snape's gaze was sharp as he watched the two boys. It was easy to understand the enmity between them. After all, it had been somewhat similar between him and certain Gryffindors when he'd been a teenager himself. He doubted things would have gone like this if he hadn't joined the Dark Lord, though. Fighting on the same side might have changed things between him and Black and Potter.

It would have taken a small miracle, but he was sure they would have survived working together, even if most teenagers were incompetent idiots who allowed their hormones control their behavior.

He glanced at Harry. How amusing that the one person he'd always considered as the most irresponsible of them all would actually be more mature than others his age. He could remember the things young Malfoy had done to him. If anyone had the reason to be mad at him, it was Harry. But he didn't hold a grudge.

Probably because he had more dangerous enemies than Draco Malfoy.

Weasley was not like that. He seemed to seethe with anger every time he saw Malfoy. Made angry comments even when not provoked. That could be a problem.

Snape was definitely not going to watch the rage simmer just below the surface for long. If these boys were both Slytherins, he'd order them to work things out. They wouldn't like it, but they would obey him no matter how much they hated each other. Weasley wouldn't obey his orders. Things would just get worse.

"I think you'd better spend Sunday reading. You'll need it, all of you." He knew how good Malfoy was in Potions, but even he could study more. "So we finish the cleaning tomorrow."

"Thank Merlin!"

Astonishingly, it was Malfoy muttering that out loud. Harry smiled a little and nodded. For once he completely agreed with him.

Ron felt the relief himself but didn't allow himself to nod. There was no way he would ever admit he shared a feeling with Malfoy.

Pretending not to hear the sigh, Snape went on, "So tomorrow, Potter, you'll sweep the floors. You should be familiar with the broom by now." Self control prevented his face from revealing actual amusement as he could see from the glint in the green eyes that Harry thought his comment was hilarious. "Mr. Weasley and Mr. Malfoy. You'll do the laundry."

The silence that followed his words was shocked.

Snape simply stared at the two horrified boys. No, he wasn't going to order them to work things out, but he was going to force them to work together. They might get into a fistfight or two, but eventually, they would have to deal with their anger.

"Sir! We... Him..." Ron was getting really tired of not being able to finish a sentence. He stared at Snape. No, he was not joking. He really wanted him and Malfoy do the laundry. Together.

Gritting his teeth, he glanced at Malfoy, feeling the familiar irritation as he saw the blond nod. Of course he would nod. That stupid arse-kisser would never question Snape.

"Mr. Malfoy has probably never done laundry." It was definitely not a question. Snape knew for a fact that Lucius' precious boy had been shielded from this side of life. "I'm certain you will show him how to do it, Mr. Weasley."

He could feel the tension grow in the room.

It was so much like back in the Potions class, he couldn't help a malevolent smirk. Those two would probably try to kill each other when they were out of sight. He wasn't really worried. Young Malfoy knew better than to really harm Weasley.

Ron was almost shaking with anger. Did Snape really think he could handle spending the day at the riverside with Malfoy? He'd probably drown him before lunch time.

He didn't want to say anything, certain he couldn't get past the splutters before Snape made a comment about Gryffindor intelligence. Nothing he could think of would change his mind. Snape was like that. Always predictable in his sadism.

"Remember to keep constant vigilance while you're out there." Sometimes even old crackpots like Moody got things right.

Harry cast a worried look at Ron. He didn't think he'd be able to pay attention to his surroundings while he was out there with Malfoy. The two of them would be too busy bickering.

He tried very hard not to think about the fact that he was going to spend the whole day alone with Snape in the cottage. It was making him feel weird, as if he should say something to make things better. He had no idea what that would be.

"It will be a busy day tomorrow. I suggest you all go to bed." From Snape, the suggestion sounded more like a command.

"Yes, sir." Malfoy rose to his feet immediately. He padded across the hall to the door and slipped out, heading for the outhouse.

Ron was grumbling silently, but didn't actually let out any words. It would be futile to complain anyway. His opinions never seemed to matter. If he protested about the plans for tomorrow, Snape would probably just think of more chores he could do together with Malfoy.

"Okay." Stretching a bit before getting up, Harry added, "Good night, Snape. Come on, Ron. Let's go upstairs." It was best to go before Malfoy returned.

Still grumbling a bit, Ron ignored Snape's nod and quiet 'good night Potter', and followed Harry. He wondered what made Harry be so damn polite to the professor all the time. He wasn't as bad as Malfoy who was obeying the man's every word, never talking back to him but it was starting to annoy him anyway.

Something nagged at the back of his mind, but he couldn't really put it into coherent thoughts. Probably just the tingling feeling running down his spine, warning him not to turn his back on the Slytherins.

He hated it. Absolutely hated being thrown together with Malfoy, hated having to do whatever Snape told him to do.

Mind filled with annoyance, Ron watched Harry walk into their room. Instead of following him, he stood still, waiting for Malfoy. He had something to say to him and it couldn't wait till tomorrow.

Soft footsteps echoed in the staircase and then Malfoy stepped to the hallway. He didn't look at all surprised to see Ron waiting. "Weasley."

Even the name sounded like an insult. "Shut up, Malfoy, and listen." Ron wanted to make something absolutely clear. "You're not going to spend tomorrow ordering me around. Or napping while I work. I don't care if you've never done laundry before. Try to make me do all the nasty work and I'll drown you. Get it?"

Draco raised an eyebrow. "Of course." He bit back the nasty comment coming to his mind, but didn't moderate his tone. Snape was right. Acting like some repentant soul of darkness wouldn't change anything.

It suddenly hit him that Snape did actually speak out of experience. He'd done things he could only have nightmares of and everybody knew that. Still, he didn't crawl in front of anyone. Most people in the wizarding world probably loathed him anyway, but at least he had some self respect left.

"Well, just make sure you remember it tomorrow!" Ron couldn't help saying that.

Something inside Draco snapped. He raised his gaze to Weasley's eyes, knowing well that he was expected to scurry away. He was not going to listen to this anymore. "You don't have to repeat things to me like I'm one of your housemates, Weasley. I'm neither deaf or dumb." Hearing the venom in his voice made him feel good.

Ron's eyes widened in shock. It had been weeks since he last heard Malfoy actually talk back to him like that. "Shut the hell up, Malfoy," he growled.

"I don't think so. If you want to act like an ass, go ahead. Just don't expect me to listen to your piss poor insults."

It was so familiar; the sneer in Malfoy's voice, the superior attitude. He'd always been like that, saying that he was so much better than anyone else because of his money and his father, making fun of him and his friends. Sucking up to Snape. Ron was sick of it. "Fuck off, Malfoy." He couldn't help it. His hand squeezed into a fist and he stepped closer to Malfoy.

This time, Draco didn't walk away. Staring at Ron, he stated coolly, "Don't push me, Weasley."

"Don't tell me what I can do!" Life would be so much easier if Malfoy just didn't exist. There was something in him that made Ron's blood boil. He hated the sensation, knowing he was losing control every time he thought about the git. There was just something in Malfoy that made him see red.

He moved even closer.

Draco stared at him flatly. He'd had enough of being Ron Weasley's punching bag. No amount of self hatred and guilt would make him run away, or stand here and take the blow. "Don't. You hit me and I..."

"You what?" Contempt clear in his voice, Ron taunted, "You go and tell Snape that the big bad Gryffindor is harassing poor innocent you?"

"No. The next time you hit me, I will hit you back." It was said softly, but the words were still menacing.

Ron froze. There had been no anger in Malfoy's voice. It had been calm, stating a fact.

The air was full of unleashed violence. All the anger both of them had inside was going to explode in pain and blood any second now.

Downstairs, a door was banged closed. The loud sound seemed to jolt Draco out of the haze. He snorted and then turned around and walked to his room. It didn't look as if he was running away. He was deliberately turning his back on Ron as if to show he wasn't afraid.

Ron stood there for a moment. He wanted to scream, but was certain that wouldn't be a good idea. He wouldn't show his frustration to anyone, especially Malfoy.

Still almost shaking with rage, he tried to calm his breath. It took him a few moments to feel like facing anyone. With a nasty glare at the stairs, he turned around and walked to the room he shared with Harry. If only Snape hadn't banged the door downstairs... He would have probably smashed his fist into Malfoy's face.

Even if it would have lead into a fight, he would have the satisfaction of seeing the sneer wiped off his face.

Harry was already sitting in bed under covers as Ron stepped to their room. He watched Ron walk to his bed, wondering what the angry voices coming from the hallway had meant.

"What was that all about?"

Pulling off his trousers, Ron said, "Nothing. Just Malfoy bugging the hell out of me." He tossed his socks on the floor. It wasn't as cold as usual, so he could sleep without them.

"Oh." Not that Harry was surprised. He'd thought the two of them would be arguing again, remembering what Snape had told Malfoy earlier.

"Yeah. I can't believe I have to spend tomorrow with the bastard."

"Try not to kill him, Ron." Harry was only half joking. He knew how much his friend hated Malfoy. "I bet he's trying not to be a complete bastard. He's not a bad guy. Not one of Voldemort's people. Just leave him alone, okay?"

It was sad how much the words hurt Ron. "Can you honestly say you don't hate him? That you don't want to get back to him about all the things he did to you?"

Harry thought for a moment, remembering everything Malfoy had done to him during the years. The baiting, the mocking. Scaring him half to death by dressing up as a Dementor. Causing Gryffindor to almost lose the House Cup the previous year with his lies.

That was all in the past. There were worse things in life than petty insults. At least Malfoy had never tried to kill him, unlike his father and his goons. Malfoy had walked away from something he'd probably seen as the fulfillment of his whole life. That took guts.

"Yes." Feeling sorry for Ron, Harry nodded. "I can say that. He's annoying and childish at times, but he's not a Death Eater. I can't waste my time hating idiots, you know. I have enough problems with Voldemort and his people."

Ron tensed. He couldn't believe this. Seeing Harry talk to Snape as if the professor was just... just a guy was bad enough. This was so much worse. He was almost starting to sound like him.

"I can't hate him anymore, not after all that's happened." Harry knew that Malfoy would probably prefer him hating him than the twinge of pity he felt. "But I'm not saying you can't. Go ahead and do, if it makes you feel better."

"It does!" It was just a growl.

Harry doubted that, but didn't say anything. He just nodded. "All right. I still mean it, Ron. Try not to kill him." A small smile appeared to his lips. "If you do, then you'll have to do all the laundering by yourself."

"Yeah. Will have to wait till we finish with the laundry." Muttering to himself, Ron lay down. He didn't want to fight with Harry. He'd much rather fight with someone he hated. One blond haired pest came to mind immediately.

A soft chuckle echoed in the room. "Good idea. Night, Ron." With a mumbled 'nox' the room became a playground of shadows, the only light coming from the almost full moon shining through the window.

"Night, Harry."

---

Part 7

Hanging the sheets and robes to dry was definitely more difficult than washing windows.

Holding a couple of clothespins in his mouth, Draco fought to get one of the sheets straight on the line before pinning it in place. It was the last one. The other sheets were already swaying in the gentle wind.

At least it wasn't raining. That would have been annoying after all the work they'd done.

Draco had dreaded this day. After the scene in the hallway last evening, he'd been sure either he or Weasley would end up hurt or dead. And to be honest, there had been moments when drowning Weasley had sounded like a perfect solution to all his problems.

They had managed to work together. Probably because of the ten steps of distance they'd kept constantly. Or the fact that they hadn't said a word to each other.

He'd noticed all the glares, but had chosen to ignore them. It actually made him proud of himself and his self-control.

It had been a long day. After breakfast, Snape had instructed them on the various ways wizards could use magic to help them do the laundry. They had chosen to use the stream. Draco wasn't completely convinced there wasn't a charm to clean clothes more thoroughly than the ones they had used, but he knew better than to question his professor. So he had followed Ron, carrying armloads of dirty clothes, and then spent hours at the riverside.

Using the simple charms to warm the water and make it swirl hadn't been enough. They'd had to actually stir the clothes and then pour several potions into the stream. Hard work.

Draco was sure even Muggles didn't do it like this anymore. They probably had some kinds of machines to do the heavy work.

He really missed the house elves from Hogwarts. All he had to do was to put the clothes into a basket. The next time he saw them, they were neatly folded into his closet. No scrubbing, no sweating. Just nice clean robes.

There was an unbelievable amount of laundry. Sheets. Robes. Socks. Shirts. Strangely similar underwear. Apparently they all shopped at Malkin's. He'd thought it'd take a couple of hours to finish with their task. He'd been wrong. It was almost dinner time, and they were still at it.

While Snape was making dinner and Potter was washing the floors.

Life was so unfair.

Finishing with the sheets, Draco grabbed a robe and started to hang it. It wasn't as easy as hanging the sheets had been. The robes weren't symmetrical, and at least one part seemed to be hanging to the ground no matter how he turned them. He worked on the robe patiently, even though all he wanted was to turn his wand on it and yell, 'incendio'. Since it was his best robe, he decided against such stupidity.

He managed to hang the robe to his satisfaction and then went to get more clothespins from the small bag. He glared at Weasley while crouching there. It was obvious the redhead had done this before.

Draco was glad to see there were only a few robes and T-shirts left. When this ordeal was over, he never wanted to see wet laundry again, even if it meant walking around in dirty clothes. Someone else could handle this work the next time.

"Watch it, Malfoy!"

The growl came so suddenly, Draco spun around, one hand squeezing the wet shirt he was holding, the other reaching for his wand.

Ron was glaring at him from the other end of the clothesline. "Be careful with that shirt." He swallowed the rest of the sentence, knowing that the bastard would just make fun of him and his family if he told him how important the garment was to him.

It didn't really matter what Malfoy thought. His dad had bought him that shirt for his birthday last year, and maybe it was a bit too small to him now, but he still loved it. Not everyone had a real Chudley Cannons T-shirt that was licensed by the team. A must have thing for all true fans.

Malfoy couldn't appreciate such things. It was obvious from the way he was squeezing the shirt in his hand, not even realizing that the hem was trailing on the ground, getting dirty.

"Just give me the shirt and everything's all right again." Since Harry had asked him to -- asked nicely, cajoled and finally begged him -- he could behave. So he didn't even call Malfoy names. But he wanted to hang the shirt himself.

Draco lowered his gaze to the shirt he was holding. The orange cloth with the black cannon ball and the double Cs embroidered there made it quite obvious why Weasley would hold the thing dear. "Fine." He didn't care.

"Good. Now give it to me." Holding his hand out, Ron stared at Malfoy.

It was a stupid thing. Both had work to do before they could go back inside and spend the rest of the evening either reading or panicking. Arguing over who got to hang out a damn shirt would be stupid. Still, Draco didn't really want to give in that easily. He wasn't going to let Weasley order him around anymore.

He wasn't a complete idiot either. "Whatever." He tossed the shirt at Weasley, not wanting to argue about something as stupid as that. There would undoubtedly be other things to argue about.

Ron barely managed to grab the shirt. He glared at Malfoy again, just knowing he'd thrown it like that on purpose. "Damn sneaky snake loving..." Using most of his colorful vocabulary that would make his mother threaten to wash his mouth with Bubotuber pus, he threw the shirt at the line, missing it.

Cursing, he went to pick the wet garment from the bush, hoping he wouldn't have to wash it again. It would be just his luck to have mud on the shirt now.

He should have known something like this would happen. Malfoy had been quiet all morning. Too quiet.

Laundering hadn't been as bad as he'd feared. At least he'd been able to work in peace. Everything had been going on so well before he'd noticed Malfoy holding his shirt.

It was a small thing, but somehow it seemed too much. He had heard the taunts about his family's poverty for years now. Suffered through hours of innuendo about his friendship with the 'Boy Who Lived' and the very clever plan he must have to climb up the ladder of success. Kept his mouth shut as Slytherins tittered about his looks or commented the freckles and the red hair.

He wasn't going to punch Malfoy. Or even scream at him. But he was definitely going to deal with his own laundry.

Something was stirring in the bush. Still too busy calling Malfoy names, Ron ignored the movement, scooping up the shirt and shaking it. Stupid Snape forcing him to work with Malfoy. Of course the professor couldn't see anything wrong with his Slytherin. Always pampering him, boosting his overblown ego.

There was something on the shirt. Ron shook it again, disgusted by the cool wetness of it. He kicked the bush, needing to do something about his anger before he wrung someone's neck. That someone standing by the laundry basket with a suffering expression on his face.

"Stupid, lying, hateful... Ow!"

Ron looked down at his stinging left foot. His eyes widened as he saw the small form slither away from him and back into the bush. Blinking, he tried to understand what had just happened.

It was a damn snake. He'd just been bitten by a snake. Possibly a poisonous one.

The irony of the situation wasn't lost from him. Staring at the bushes, he let out a giggle. This was just too much. He'd survived almost seven years of being the best friend of the famous Harry Potter. Had been forced to face his worst fears in the form of giant spiders, lived through a Death Eater attack at the Burrow. And now, he was bitten by a damn snake, a slithering green snake that reminded him of the one embroidered into the small badge on every Slytherin's robe.

To think that just a couple of days earlier he'd thought things were getting boring and he wanted some excitement in his life.

Laughing so hard tears fell down his face, Ron held his stomach. He was getting dizzy with all the laughter but the whole thing was so silly! He needed to share the joke with someone who would understand.

That meant Harry.

Ron turned around, letting the shirt slip through his fingers. It didn't really matter if it got dirty again. He could wash it again later. Lurching from side to side, he headed back to the cottage. He had to find Harry right now. And maybe lie down too. His foot was hurting a lot more than it should after such a small bite.

Damn snakes. You couldn't trust them. Always haunting him and taunting him about things. Slimy and sneaky.

"Where do you think you're going, Weasley?"

The question jolted Ron out of his thoughts and he looked up to see Draco Malfoy standing in his way. He blinked at him owlishly. When had Malfoy turned so fuzzy? "Need to see Harry. Get out of my way, Malfoy." When the other boy just stared at him, he shoved at him hard and then went on towards the cottage.

Draco slumped against a tree, desperately flailing with his hands to get a hold on the trunk. The anger that flared in his mind was welcome. This was going too far. He was not going to let Ron Weasley walk over him again. Pushing himself up, he followed the Gryffindor.

Who hadn't got really far yet. Draco frowned as he saw the way the redhead swayed and staggered onwards. It almost looked like he was drunk. A cold feeling filled Draco's stomach. Had something happened? Was this a first sign of an attack on them?

"Wait up Weasley." Hurrying to Ron's side, Draco grabbed his arm. Something was wrong. Even through the pullover he could feel that Ron's skin was burning. "Let me help you to Potter."

A sweet smile appeared on Ron's face, his gaze unfocused. "Maybe you're not a complete bastard after all." His words came out slurred.

That was it! Draco realized he was delirious. He had to get Weasley to Snape at once.

"You know, this is really poetic. I mean, if there was justice, you'd be bitten by a lion in a minute or two." Ron couldn't keep the words inside. He allowed himself to be dragged towards the cottage, rambling on. "But there are no lions in Scotland, you know, if we really still are in Scotland. Not real ones or magical ones. But there are snakes. Yeah. And spiders. You know, I'm really glad they didn't choose the spider as the Gryffindor crest animal. Would have rather become a Hufflepuff than a Gryffindor then. Or even a Slytherin. Even though I don't really like snakes that much. They bite you and you die, you know?"

Draco swallowed hard. A snake had bit Weasley? "Can you tell me what kind of a snake it was? What color?" He tried to rack his brains, to figure out if there were any magical snakes living here. He had no idea. He couldn't remember anything about non-magical ones either.

"Blond. Almost white." Ron stared at the other boy. "Did you know your hair looks really funny up close? Is it like this naturally or do you dye it? I mean, we all know you're a natural blond, but that shade of white is just weird."

"Focus, Weasel! The snake. What color was the snake?" It was a good thing the cottage wasn't all that far, otherwise Draco would have been tempted to simply toss Weasley to the ground and let him die.

But Ron couldn't say anything. His face was reddening, his lips turning into an ominous shade of blue. The only sound coming from his throat was a faint gurgle.

"Oh, bugger!" Grabbing a better hold of Weasley, Draco hollered, "Help! Somebody help me! Professor Snape!" He started walking faster, feeling the body next to him start to get heavier.

Ron was starting to lose consciousness. He was vaguely aware of someone screaming into his ear, calling out for the professor. Snape. That almost rhymed with snake. But he didn't want to be bitten by either one of them. Too late with the snake. The idea of the Potions professor biting him was hilarious, but he didn't really feel like laughing. He was tired. So damn tired.

It would be really nice to just fall down and get some sleep.

"Professor Snape! Professor Snape!" His voice getting shrilly, Draco tried to keep Weasley from collapsing. Since the Gryffindor was bigger than he was, it was a losing battle. "Help!"

Knowing from the sound of the call that it was urgent, Snape abandoned the half set dinner table and rushed outside. Harry followed right behind him, holding his wand ready.

"What happened?" Snape reached the two boys just as Ron slumped on the grass completely boneless. He knelt down next to him immediately, his hand going to feel the pulse. Frowning, he looked up at Draco. "Did something bite him? A snake or an insect?"

Draco nodded. "Yes. He said something had bit him and then started babbling about things. Said our crest animal was going to kill him." He was out of breath after dragging Weasley all this way and then screaming for help.

"We have to get him inside immediately. Potter, grab his legs." Without even looking to see if Harry obeyed him, he grabbed Ron beneath his armpits and dragged him up. He couldn't risk levitating the boy now, not when he wasn't sure what had happened.

It was fortunate they were close to the cottage. Ron had grown tall these past two years and he wasn't exactly what one might call wiry. Harry was breathing hard as they reached their destination, his heart racing from both the exertion and fear. He could see from Snape's expression that this was serious.

"Put him down on the couch. Malfoy, go and get me a glass of water. Potter, stay with him." As soon as the boy was lying still, Snape hurried to his room.

Harry crouched next to his best friend, grabbing his hand. He could feel heat pulsating under the clammy skin, wondering about how weird it felt. Ron was shivering as if he was freezing cold, though he felt hot all over. "It's okay. Snape'll fix you." It was the only thing he could say to Ron.

"He's good with these things." Appearing behind the couch with a glass of water in his hand, Malfoy looked down at Ron. His expression was surprisingly blank. "The professor will know what to do with him."

"Yeah." That was a blessing. Harry knew Snape had brought lots of potions ingredients and vials with him. There had to be something that would cure Ron there.

Heavy footsteps heralded Snape's return. A moment later he walked to the room, carrying a small bag with him. "Did you bring the water?" Not wasting any time, he glanced at Malfoy. He saw the glass, and nodded. "Good." Taking a small vial from the bag, he dropped seven drops of pink liquid into the water and then motioned at Harry. "Get him to sit up, he needs to drink this immediately."

Harry levered Ron up. It wasn't easy. He felt like a limp puppet, his body completely relaxed.

"Come on, Weasley. Drink this." Knowing it was probable that the boy couldn't hear him, Snape raised the glass to Ron's lax lips. Some of the liquid ran down his chin, but he did manage to swallow some.

"Is it going to cure him?" Fear evident in his voice, Harry looked up at Snape.

"Of course not. There is no such thing as an universal antidote to snake bites, Potter. You should know, we went through this last year in class." It only proved that Gryffindors slept through most of the Potions classes. "We need to find the animal who did this and get a sample of its venom before I can mix a potion that will cure Weasley here. I have given him something that should slow the effects of the venom."

Draco nodded. It was weird how everything Snape had taught them about venoms and poisonous animals had simply fled his head. "We were hanging the laundry. Near the small hill. To the left of the stream. Weasley was standing next to a couple of bushes when he started to act weird."

"Good. You stay here and keep an eye on Mr. Weasley. Try to find out where he was bitten."

That made Draco blink. How was he supposed to do that now that Weasley was lying almost unconscious? Surely Snape didn't mean he was supposed to strip him and go looking for fangmarks! He opened his mouth to protest, and then snapped it shut again when he saw the glare.

"Potter, you're with me." Snape put the glass on the small table. Seeing Harry was not obeying him, he repeated the command. "Potter. If you don't want to sit there and watch him die, you're coming with me. Now."

That made Harry flinch. With one last look at Ron, he followed Snape out.

The cottage seemed suddenly very quiet. Draco inched closer to Ron to hear his labored breaths. He hated not being able to do anything. It didn't matter it was Weasel who was lying there, dying; he hated the helplessness anyway. Steeling himself, he started pulling the redhead's clothes off. At least he could try to find out where the snake had bit him.

Harry was running after Snape, trying to catch him. "Wait up! Where are we going?" He wondered why Snape had told him to follow. That had left Ron alone with Malfoy. He couldn't really picture Malfoy taking care of anyone.

"It should be obvious. We need to get some of the snake's venom, and your friend doesn't have the time to wait for me to hunt the creature down." Casting a look over his shoulder, Snape was relieved to see comprehension dawn on Harry. The boy was good in tight situations, but wasn't always able to think clearly when his friends were in danger.

"You want me to talk to the snake." It wasn't a question, just a statement.

Snape had thought it was obvious. "Yes. Unless you want to spend an hour or so running after it." He didn't have to say that it would be too late for Weasley then.

Not bothering to even reply to that, Harry jogged towards the place Ron and Malfoy had been working at.

The baskets were still there, as if waiting for someone to come and pick them up. Black robes and white sheets were swinging on the clothes line. It all looked so homey it was hard to imagine that the place could actually be dangerous.

"Now what?" Harry looked around him, trying to figure out just exactly where Ron had been when the snake had bitten him. There was a shirt crumpled on the ground near some bushes. Malfoy had said something about bushes. And the shirt looked really familiar.

Gaze scanning their surroundings, Snape said, "Call out for the snake." He sounded a bit hesitant. "You can call for it without seeing it, can't you?"

Harry wasn't sure. He'd never really tried this before. There had always been something he could focus on. A picture or a statue. Or simply a live snake he could talk to. "I don't know." He'd try his best.

If it took parseltongue to save Ron's life, he'd hiss until his tongue bled.

Clearing his throat, he muttered, "Sssnake?" It sounded a bit silly to his own ears. He wasn't even certain if it had been in English or not. He never could tell the difference.

Nothing happened.

"Keep going!" Gesturing at Harry to go on, Snape stared at the bushes. He hoped this would work, that the snake was still around. He was definitely not going to lose a student. Not even someone as Gryffindor as Ron Weasley.

More hisses came out of Harry's mouth, sounding strangely pleading. Almost desperate. Somehow the pain and fear in those soft sounds were more aching than in any words he'd ever heard.

A rustling sound came from their left. Snape turned around, holding his breath as he saw a small green snake peek out from the bush.

The coloration of the snake wasn't at all familiar to him. It didn't seem magical, but somehow he wasn't certain it was something that should live around here either.

Seeing the snake seemed to trigger awareness in Harry. All hesitation left him as he focused his attention to the small snake who had probably found Ron's presence as a threat just moments ago.

Fascinated, Snape leaned a bit closer to hear better. He took in the half vacant look in Harry's eyes. The first time he'd heard Harry speak parseltongue, he'd been too stunned to actually appreciate the experience.

Strange, how graceful the hypnotic hissing was. There didn't seem to be any real words there, at least not ones Snape could identify. For a single moment, he wondered if it could be taught to someone. No one knew, really, for Salazar Slytherin had been secretive about his talent, as had every other parselmouth after him.

The snake swayed a little, focusing its small eyes on Snape. A forked tongue flickered out of its mouth as it tasted the air.

Harry hissed more words, his voice holding a warning note. His body language was screaming with tension. A moment later he relaxed as the snake swayed to focus its attention back to him.

It seemed to last for a long time; sibilant whispers pouring from Harry's lips, the snake hissing back. The odd swaying seemed to be a part of the speech, as the young man shifted his weight from one foot to another, his movement almost involuntary. Finally the snake stilled, coiling in the soft grass.

Almost as if waiting for something.

Snape raised an eyebrow as Harry left the snake and walked around the bush. "What are you doing?"

"The snake isn't going to just give us her venom." Explaining quietly Harry crouched down and took a hold of a large rock that was leaning against a bundle of roots. "She wants me to move this thing so that she can get a better doorway to her nest. Then she'll give us the thing we want."

It made Snape roll his eyes. Snakes wanted quid pro quo? Salazar had indeed picked the right animal to represent his House.

After Harry had carried the rock to the side, he arranged some of the smaller ones to shade a small hole in the ground. The snake slithered closer to watch him work. She seemed to be satisfied with the results, her tongue once again tasting the air.

The delay almost made Snape fidget impatiently, only the fear of upsetting the snake curbing the twitching. They didn't have much time. He didn't know details about the snake's venom, but it was clearly lethal.

Weasley could be dying. From the tension on Harry, he knew that he knew it too. It was amazing how calm he could still act.

"Do you have a cup or something?" A bit winded from carrying the fairly large boulder, Harry turned to glance at Snape. "For the venom." He had no idea of how to get the snake to squirt venom out. Could snakes do that? He knew nothing about non magical snakes, even though he was fairly sure they'd had an assignment to write a paper on adders in school. In the Muggle school he had attended before Hogwarts, almost a lifetime ago.

Snape reached into one of the pockets inside his robe and produced a soft rubbery ball. "Tell her to bite this. It's quite safe for her." He handed the ball to Harry.

It wasn't easy to convince the snake to bite the weird looking thing. She spent long minutes staring at it, and then running her tongue over its surface. Finally satisfied it was safe, she sank her fangs into it. As she let go, she let out an offended hiss, making Harry apologize for the extremely uncomfortable sensation of biting something so untasty.

Still hissing, she slithered back to her nest.

"We should get back as quickly as possible." Snape shoved the ball back into his pocket.

Harry didn't argue with him. Hissing a hasty goodbye to the snake, he turned around and started jogging back to the cottage, Snape following right behind him.

Fear was making his heart pound. This could not be happening. Ron couldn't be dying. He could not lose a friend like this. In a freak accident. It made no sense. No sense at all.

He swallowed down the panic, forcing himself to breathe calmly as he reached the cottage. Panicking and desperation would not help anyone. He needed to keep his head now. This was no different from all the times he'd faced Voldemort. If he lost the control over his emotions and gave into the fear gnawing at him, people would die.

Instead of rushing right in, he held the door open, allowing Snape to go in first. There wasn't much he could really do right now. Everything would depend on Snape brewing the antidote.

Ron was now covered with a blanket. His clothes were in a neat pile next to him. Looking extremely uncomfortable, Draco Malfoy was sitting on the floor, keeping an eye on the raggedly breathing young man. Relief filled him as he saw Snape barge into the room.

"Did you find the bite?"

"Yes. It was on his left ankle. No other signs of bites on him." At least as far as Draco could tell. He doubted the snake would have attacked any part now covered by Weasley's briefs.

Snape nodded. "Good." It was nice to see at least some people could follow orders without making a mess about it.

As if hearing the professor's voice, Ron started to convulse again.

"Mr. Malfoy. Hold his hands. Potter, give him two drops from that." Gesturing at the vial that was still on the table, Snape rushed to the other side of the room and lit a fire under a cauldron there. He saw Harry hesitate and look for the glass of water Snape had used earlier. "Don't just stand there. Pour the drops right into his mouth. Hurry."

The urgent tone made Harry comply without questions. As Malfoy held Ron in place, he managed to get the pink liquid into his mouth. It seemed to work immediately.

He put the small vial back on the table, looking unsure of what to do next.

Fortunately, Snape had it figured out already. "Potter, you go and sit with your friend. Mr. Malfoy. Go and wash your hands. You'll help me with the antidote." He knew that Harry would do anything to help him, but right now, he needed someone who actually knew how to brew a potion.

"Yes, sir." Malfoy rushed to the pail at the corner, rolling his sleeves up. He was glad there was something to do. Sitting by Weasley's side and watching him slowly die was not fun after all.

Harry sat down on the floor next to the couch, grabbing Ron's hand. He could hear Snape walk around the cottage, going to his own bedroom and then coming back again. Keeping his eyes on Ron, he tried not to think about the urgency in the man's voice. The potion was probably not an easy one to brew. It would take some time to finish, maybe even longer than Ron had left.

He refused to accept that; was not about to watch his friend die. He had faith in Snape's skill. If anyone could save Ron, it was Snape.

Minutes passed by. Harry listened to Snape bark instructions to Malfoy, the sound of his voice mingling with the soft boiling sounds coming from the cauldron by the fire. Ingredients were shredded, sliced and chopped, the scent of thyme filling the air.

It was strange how soothing the constant sound of instructions and explanations was. Snape kept talking about the reason he wasn't using a bezoar to counteract the poison, muttering things about someone using the last of his dried mandrake. It was almost as if the man was teaching a lesson once again.

Harry was glad of the words, knowing they were meant to distract them all from worrying. He let the familiar voice wash over him, not even paying attention to the words anymore.

Watching Ron breathe slowly made him wonder if he should do something. Anything. There wasn't a thing he could do but to sit here. He couldn't even pray. Didn't know whom to pray to.

"I need your help with this, Mr. Malfoy. Grab the ladle. No. Closer to my hands. Closer! For Merlin's sake, boy! You can do better than that!"

The angry words jolted Harry from his thoughts, and he glanced at the hearth where Snape and Malfoy were standing. He saw the large cauldron, and the impossibly thick ladle, wondering how the man would ever be able to stir whatever was inside the cauldron. The answer came a moment later as both Slytherins grabbed the wooden handle, starting to stir the potion with a well coordinated motion.

It was hypnotic. Harry kept his hand on Ron's, his gaze following the round motion of the ladle stirring the potion. He could remember one of the textbooks describing something like this; some potions being so thick they couldn't be made by a single person, no matter how strong.

At least Malfoy would be able to keep the stirring up for a long time. Steering a broomstick while trying to swoop down after the Snitch and not crash while doing it gave the Seeker muscled arms.

Round and round the ladle went. Firm, precise circles. Harry tried to count the stirs, losing count somewhere around the 160th stir.

All the while, Ron's breathing got a little fainter.

"We will need to change the direction after twenty-five more stirs." Snape's voice sounded strained. Sweat was running down his face, disappearing into his collar. "Then we'll have another 500 stirs counter-clockwise and the potion is finished."

Malfoy let out a pained gasp at that. "Sir! I don't think I can do that." He didn't sound like he was kidding. "My arms are about to fall off."

A short silence followed. Then Snape called out, "Potter. I need you here."

Harry got to his feet immediately, placing Ron's hand on the couch next to the unmoving body. He didn't dare to look at his friend, fearing he'd lose it and start blubbering. He couldn't afford that right now.

He walked slowly to the fire, stretching his shoulders. "What do you want me to do?"

"You need to take Mr. Malfoy's place once we change the direction." Raising his gaze from the potion to Harry, Snape frowned. "Do you remember how to make the reverse S-loop?"

"Yes." Stirring the potion was usually the simplest thing in class, so even Neville was able to remember the rules. The soft stirs, the harder ones. The flicks of the wrist and the vigorous ones where you needed your whole arm.

Snape was glad his seven years of hell with these children hadn't been a complete waste of time. "Good. Ten more stirs before it's time. Count with me, both of you. And when we reach two, you let go of the ladle and let Potter get a grip on it."

Blinking to prevent the beads of perspiration that were running down his face from reaching his eyes, Draco nodded. "Okay. Eight, seven, six, five..."

"Four, three, two..." Stepping to the left, Harry planted his hands on the wooden ladle as Draco let go. It was not the easiest thing to do. The round motion of the ladle was a steady one, but it had to be changed a moment later. Feeling Snape start the loop, he followed the movement, ending up stirring the potion in the opposite direction than just a second earlier.

Snape was actually stunned they had managed to do it without complications. His experience of Harry with potions was not a glorious one. "Good. Now, Mr. Malfoy. You should go and sit with Mr. Weasley. If he starts to convulse, give him a dosage from the blue bottle on the table."

"Yes, sir." Draco nodded, flexing his cramping hands. He needed something cool to drink, and a bath but that could wait. Without words, he padded to the couch, slumping down on the floor.

Harry was amazed of how hard it was to stir the potion. The way he was gripping the ladle above Snape's hands wasn't really giving him a good leverage, and he had to concentrate on making the motion stable. The fact that the wood was slick from where Malfoy's sweaty palms had gripped the ladle didn't really help.

Years of practice made Snape able to keep a count of the stirs even as he said, "You must tell me immediately if you feel like you're going to lose your grip or start cramping. If the stirring pattern changes, this whole thing will be ruined, and we need to start over again." He remembered the boulder Harry had lifted in order to please the snake and wasn't sure he was up to this.

There was no other option. Malfoy was already exhausted, and he couldn't do this alone. Not all 500 stirs.

"I'll let you know." Harry knew he'd stir the thing until his fingers fell off if necessary. He was quiet for a moment, but the nagging fear at his mind forced him to ask, "Will we make it in time?"

Dark gaze met with his. "Yes." If they managed to finish the potion. Weasley didn't stand a chance if they ruined this and had to start from a scratch. Especially since Snape knew he didn't have enough ingredients to brew another potion like this. "But we can't fail with the antidote."

Harry nodded. He trusted Snape not to lie to him.

The ladle felt smooth and heavy, the fumes from the cauldron tingling on Harry's fingers. He was used to the feeling from their Potions classroom. Snape had to feel the warmth worse than he did, with his hands closer to the cauldron, but there was no sign of pain on the man's face. Only concentration.

It was so damn difficult to keep the stirring movement steady.

"Can you move your hands a bit?" Knowing his position was a bad one, Harry stared at their hands. "Move them apart." He wasn't thinking about any lesson taught in the Potions class. This was about Quidditch, and emergency transports on a broom.

Snape nodded. He barely managed to widen his grip, his fingers starting to cramp. Ignoring the feeling, he kept stirring.

The next moment Harry let go of the ladle with one hand, placing it back a moment later, below Snape's splayed hands. As the next stir moved the ladle closer to him again, he repeated the motion with his other hand, replacing it between Snape's. "See? Better balance."

He remembered how Madam Hooch had made them practice dangling from the broomsticks a few years ago. First alone, then sharing the broom. Placing hands like that had made the Firebolt glide through the air with perfect grace, both he and Angelina managing to actually hang onto it for the whole ride.

This was different from holding a broom. This was a smooth motion, round and round and round... Never faltering, never changing. Watching the swirling brew was making Harry dizzy, so he looked up at Snape's face.

The world seemed to narrow down to this; wide circular movement of his arms, his shoulders flexing, hands guiding the ladle, his skin touching Snape's. It didn't take long for him to realize he was even breathing in synch with Snape, stirring the potion as if they were of one mind.

Harry felt small beads of perspiration fall down his forehead. He could see Snape's pale face glisten as well. Ignoring it, he concentrated on their movement.

The ladle brushed against the side of the cauldron, then made its way around again, smoothly this time. Harry's grip was not slipping, even though he could feel the moisture in his palms. He kept staring at Snape, wondering how long this would last and if they could really hang on long enough.

Snape's lips were moving now. The words flowing out in a whisper weren't numbers, or orders to guide Harry. They were a softly spoken charm, the essence of the potion without which the oddly yellow goo in the cauldron would just be a nice scented sludge instead of an antidote.

It was Harry's turn to be fascinated.

He'd seen Snape brew potions before. He rarely actually did that in class but they'd spent enough time together for him to see the reality of a Potions master's time off; there really was none. Whenever he'd gone to the dungeons, Snape had been doing something potion related.

Those evenings, when he'd curled on Snape's chair with a book or a Quidditch magazine in hand, he'd sometimes watched the man work. Cast disgusted glances at some of the icky ingredients. Wondered about how dedicated Snape was on his potions. Simply stared at his hands clutching the ladle.

He'd never really been a part of that. Not before this.

In class, he'd rarely worked with Hermione. She'd always tried to pair up with Neville to prevent a disaster. When she'd worked with Harry, it had definitely not been like this. Hard work, yes, but there had been no real magic there.

Harry couldn't help smiling at Snape as he felt something tingle before him. The scent of thyme intensified. He doubted he'd ever really enjoy brewing potions, but for this one wonderful moment, he was exhilarated.

"Almost there, Potter. Fifty more stirs." It was a novelty for Snape to see such a wild grin on Harry in a situation like this. Potions, his only passion, were rarely appreciated by anyone, not even those whose lives were saved by them. He'd seen curiosity and interest in Draco Malfoy's eyes as they had worked together with the ingredients, but he knew the gleam in Harry's eyes had nothing to do with that.

He was reacting to the moment and the power swirling between them.

Harry was counting down silently. If he let himself think about anything else than the stirs and the tingling, he'd probably scream. His arms were killing him. How the hell was Snape managing this?

"All right. Ten, nine, eight..." Snape counted, seeing Harry's lips move too. When they reached one, both stopped. The ladle was still moving, the circular motion a bit tricky to finish abruptly. "There. You can let go now." He wondered if he could. Fingers numb, he still grasped the ladle in a firm grip.

It took them both a moment to let go. When they finally did, Snape moved to Ron's silent form. The redhead was still breathing, but his face was ghostly white now, his lips completely blue, the deep color also circling his eyes.

"Put him on the floor on top of the blanket." Knowing he couldn't really do anything with that part, Snape watched Malfoy struggle with Weasley. "All right. Now get the cauldron. The potion is stable enough to use a levitation charm." While Malfoy obeyed, he walked to his small bag, grabbing a vial of Pepperup potion. It would have been stupid to ingest it before working on the antidote, considering how spectacular the effects of the fumes mixing with this potion would have been.

They all needed this right now.

Harry felt slightly better as the potion worked on him. The sight of smoke coming out of Snape's ears was hilarious, but he couldn't even smile. Concentrating on the antidote had kept his mind occupied, but now it was wandering again. Ron looked like a corpse, the slight rise and fall of his chest the only sign that he was still alive.

"Hold out your hands." Sounding exactly like he always did while teaching a lesson, Snape moved to kneel by the cauldron, holding a small scoop. "Every antidote works differently. Those counteracting a poison should be ingested. If being stung by a magical creature, the antidote should go straight to the wound." He scooped up the thick potion and poured it onto Harry's hands. Then he repeated the action, handing Malfoy a portion as well. "However, a snake bite is trickier, especially with something that could well be a non magical snake. We need to use this as a poultice and cover Mr. Weasley's whole body with the antidote."

"You mean we rub this in?" Harry stared at Snape to see the nod, and then placed his hands on Ron's bare chest. Without hesitation, he started to spread the dark yellow goo on his friend.

Draco stared at his hands for a moment, watching the thick goo start to slide through his fingers. Seeing Snape grab some of the antidote and start rubbing it vigorously on Weasley's foot, he smeared the potion on their patient's arm. The potion was thick and oily and spread well on the surprisingly cold skin. Pushing all thoughts away, Draco grabbed more of the goo and made certain Weasley's arms and hands were well covered.

They worked in silence. Harry tried not to panic even as the color on Ron's face didn't change from the awful blueish tinge. He wiped his friend's cheeks with his fingers, biting his lips at the awful contrast of yellow against shadowy grey.

Draco tried to avert his eyes as Snape grasped the waistband of Weasley's briefs and cut them off. Curiosity kept him staring as a scoopful of the antidote was poured on his groin, the goo spreading all over the naked skin without any need to be rubbed in.

He held out his hands for more of the potion and then went to work on Weasley's hair.

Together they rolled Ron over and then covered his back too. When the boy was completely smeared with the potion, Snape knelt back, sighing. "We'll have to wrap him into a blanket. He will probably sleep for at least sixteen hours. After that, we'll see if the potion worked." He didn't say it out loud, but it was obvious how they'd find out if it had worked or not. If Weasley was alive, it had.

"All right." Keeping his gaze on Ron, Harry nodded. It would be long sixteen hours.

---

Part 8

Snape moved slowly towards his bedroom. Carrying the various potions ingredients back to their place was a careful job, especially now that his arms felt like overcooked spaghetti.

Shoving the door open with his shoulder, he stumbled into his room and then placed the bundles and vials on the table. He was too exhausted to actually organize them on a shelf. They'd be safe here, and he could do the work tomorrow.

The Pepperup potion was wearing off. He knew that in an hour or so, his body would simply stop functioning and he'd collapse on any available surface.

That was why he couldn't rest now. There were things to do.

Sighing, he went back to the living room. Malfoy and Harry had managed to clean up some of the mess there, all traces of the spilled potion were gone from the floor. The cauldron was next to the couch and the ladle rested on the floor by the hearth. None of them had the strength to remove them right now.

They could wait. Right now, they needed to get clean and then eat something. Everything else was unimportant.

Draco stood up straight and scratched his head. He felt absolutely filthy. It had been a long day, and he'd been all sweaty even before working over the hot cauldron. Now there were smudges on his still shaking hands. He hated being all dirty.

Looking around, he wondered what to do next. There was still a big mess in the corner and the air practically reeked of burned thyme. He thought that he should open a window, but couldn't gather enough strength to actually do anything. It was probably past dinner time, but he wasn't hungry. All he wanted to do was to sleep. Maybe take a quick bath and then sleep.

Right now he'd settle with even a simple cleaning charm and then sleep. As long as there was sleeping in his schedule, everything would be all right.

"Mr. Malfoy."

Raising his gaze to see Snape standing at the door, Draco nodded wearily. "Sir?" He hoped the professor didn't want him to do anything right now. Collapsing on the floor would make him look utterly ridiculous.

Snape swayed a little, but refused to lean against the door frame. "Go and get a clean change of clothes, Mr. Malfoy. I believe the Pepperup potion will work long enough for us all to bathe." He sounded weary.

"Yes, sir." Right that moment, bathing sounded like the best idea ever.

It took him a moment to go and gather his last clean robes and a towel, but after a few minutes, Draco trudged after Snape to the stream.

Harry barely noticed the two leaving. He was sitting on the floor next to the couch on which Ron was lying, all wrapped up in the blanket.

He was trying to calm down, his heart still pounding too hard.

Too many things had happened today, too many emotions rushing through him. He felt drained. It hadn't been like this in ages. The last time he'd been... He flinched at the thought.

The last time he'd gone through such an emotional roller coaster had been almost exactly a year ago; when he'd fought against the Death Eaters the last time. It had resulted in the same numbness.

Harry couldn't understand how he didn't feel anything. His body showed signs of exhaustion and excitement, adrenaline making his mouth taste strange. Bitter. But he was all cold inside.

He stared at Ron, relieved by the slow but steady rise and fall of his chest. It had somehow been worse than the assaults he'd faced. He could handle being hurt, but to lose a friend... That was his worst nightmare. Being able to act rationally even when Ron had slowly slipped away had been a blessing.

He didn't think he should be able to keep the fear at bay anymore.

Any normal person should have been shaking and crying or throwing up right now. Maybe even doing all those things at the same time. He just felt numb and tired as hell.

It didn't really matter how he felt as long as Ron was alive.

Everything revolved around that simple thought. He could deal with anything if it kept the people he loved safe. That was the reason he'd keep fighting till the end. Not selflessness or a noble cause. Duty couldn't drive him on like that; love did. As long as Sirius and Remus and Snape and Ron and Hermione and Dumbledore and McGonagall and the Weasleys and all his housemates were alive, he could go on.

He was startled out of his thoughts as the door banged open. The sudden sound from the hallway brought him to his feet with wand in hand. Tension filling his body, he prepared to guard his friend with his life.

"Good reflexes, Potter," Snape commented from the doorway. Behind him, Draco padded forward with a wet towel in hand.

Relaxing at the familiar tones, Harry put his wand back inside his robes. He was so tired, he doubted he could have fought off even the most inept of Death Eaters. "Yeah, well what do you except sneaking up on me like that?"

Draco raised an eyebrow at the irritated words. He was certain Snape would hex Potter for them. It was about time. He'd noticed how the Gryffindor got away with things no one else would dare to try. He talked to Snape as if he was somehow equal to him and hadn't called him 'sir' since they'd got here.

To his surprise, Snape simply stood there, staring at Potter. He didn't seem to be offended by the words or the tone.

"You look like you could use a bath as well, Potter." That had to be the understatement of the year, like saying Longbottom needed some help with Potions. "I'm certain Mr. Malfoy will be able to look after your friend while you get cleaned."

Harry's gaze flickered to Draco. He pondered the words for a moment, taking in the completely drained look on the other boy. It didn't seem like he'd be able to look after anyone right now. Still, he needed to freshen up. "All right."

With one last look at Ron, he went to get his stuff.

Climbing the stairs was a task in itself. Harry struggled to get to the top, dragging his feet. He grabbed a shabby pullover and his least favorite pants -- Dudley's old ones, only about five sizes too big on him. All the other clothes he owned were still drying somewhere near the snake's home. He didn't really feel like going there to collect his probably still damp stuff right now.

Holding the clothes and a towel against his chest, he went downstairs. It was definitely easier to descend the stairs. The idea of getting immersed in the water was enough to drive him on.

"Are you ready?" Looking about as tired as he felt, Snape stood there, at the door. He was holding a familiar looking bag and a towel. When he saw the nod, he gestured with his free hand, "Let's go then."

Harry didn't bother to answer. He simply followed Snape outside.

The sun was already setting and it was chilly outside. Wrapping his dirty robes tighter around him, Harry walked beside Snape, trying not to trip over his own feet.

His mind was a bit fuzzy, probably because of all the excitement and weariness. He was glad Snape wasn't into pointless babbling. Getting his brain to form intelligent conversation would be impossible right now.

Reaching the riverbank, he let the clean clothes drop on the ground. Next to him, Snape was arranging the contents of his small bag, the vials clinking softly.

It made Harry blink. "You..." Fortunately his mind could still work enough to make him shut up before he could actually finish that sentence. "Er... I mean, you can bathe first. I'll stand guard." He definitely didn't want to ask Snape how could he trust bathing with a complete idiot.

Snape raised his eyebrow. It was unlikely Harry could guard him against anything right now. He didn't say it, he simply started to remove his robes. He could take care of himself.

"Um... Right." Harry was stunned. Turning his back to Snape, he once again grabbed his wand, squeezing it until his knuckles hurt.

Things were all so weird right now. Malfoy had helped them save Ron's life -- had indeed saved it by dragging him to the cottage. He had enjoyed making a potion. Snape was trusting him enough to do this again, when the last time they'd stood here on the riverbank had been a complete disaster.

Trusting him with this instead of Malfoy. That was definitely a shock.

He was determined not to make an arse of himself again. Being tired helped. The thought of having Snape all naked again so close behind him didn't make him turn around this time. He kept listening to the splashing, though, to be ready to help him if he needed any assistance.

There were no sounds of distress this time. Harry stood there, fiddling with his wand. He could hear Snape washing himself. Heard a vial being opened and then closed again. Then there was a small silence before more splashing.

"Your turn, Potter. The water should still be warm enough for you to bathe." Snape finished pulling his robes on. He wondered if the boy had even heard him, as Harry didn't move for a moment.

"Okay." Harry lowered his wand and started to pull off his grimy clothes.

Snape watched Harry for a moment longer, frowning as he saw him stumble a bit. It was clear that he was exhausted. He would have to make sure the boy didn't drown.

Moving slowly, Harry managed to undress without falling on his face. He saw that Snape had left some of the vials on the rock protruding from the water. Good. He'd forgot to bring anything with him. At least now he could get cleaned.

He waded into the stream with care; drowning wasn't really in his agenda right now. The water was still nice and warm, feeling perfect. He stood there for some time, just enjoying the currents swirling against his body. Then he reached out for the vials.

Even though his arms shook with the exertion, he kept massaging the shampoo to his scalp. After rinsing, he grabbed the soap, happy to get the overwhelming odor of thyme off his skin. Nothing he'd ever bought had managed to clean his skin this easily. The liquid had to be homemade, one of Snape's potions.

Harry smiled at the thought and looked over his shoulder to see the man standing near his clothes, his back turned to him. Snape was running his fingers through his wet hair, staring at the cottage. Definitely not ogling at him as he was standing here naked and wet.

A slow tingling feeling crept down his belly at the thought.

Trying very hard not to think about the fact that yes, he was indeed naked here, and that not that long ago, he had watched Snape bathe, Harry dunked himself, and then grabbed his wand from the rock. Keeping his voice as quiet as possible, he muttered, "Finite incantatem," and pointed the wand at the water.

"Gaaah!" The freezing water made him scream. Wide awake and shivering, he scrambled out of the stream as fast as he could.

Snape was there in a second. "What is it? What happened?" Seeing that there was nothing wrong with Harry, he turned his gaze to the river. Nothing seemed out of place there either.

Wrapping himself in his towel, Harry tried to stop shivering. "Just thought it'd be good to make the water cooler." Realizing how weird that sounded, he offered, "To stay awake. I didn't know it was that cold."

"Apparently your brain cells have fallen asleep already, Potter." Sounding amused, Snape turned his back on the river.

"Yeah. Apparently so." Harry wasn't even offended by the words. After all, they were true. His brain had definitely fallen asleep, was probably in a coma, considering how he didn't seem to be able to do or say anything intelligent.

Snape let a slight smile appear on his face at the grumpy sound of Harry's voice. He'd been wondering if the boy would collapse after they'd finished covering Weasley with the antidote. Hearing such annoyance in his voice made him feel better.

Dressing quickly to chase away the cold, Harry kept glancing at Snape. He didn't know what had changed, but it was obvious something had. It was easy to be with Snape again, the strange hesitation and feeling of giggly -- and utterly ridiculous -- embarrassment gone.

He gathered the small vials into the bag and then wrapped his dirty robes into a bundle. The icy water had indeed invigorated him, but he could feel the fatigue lurking right around the corner.

"Come on, Potter. Let's go back to the cottage." Not even bothering to wait for an answer, Snape grabbed his bag from Harry and headed towards their small hideaway.

They walked in companionable silence.

The first thing Harry did back inside was to check on Ron again. He couldn't help it; he would worry until the moment his friend opened his eyes and said something to him. Hearing Ron's breathing made him relax slightly.

Snape went to put his towel and other stuff away. His footsteps felt leaden somehow. Still, he had the strength to move back to the living room.

He noticed that Malfoy was almost asleep on the other couch. "You should go to bed. We all need some rest. I doubt we will get anything done tomorrow." Seeing the startled expression on the boy, he added, "Naturally this will postpone the exams. Go to bed, Mr. Malfoy. There is nothing you can do here."

"Thank you, sir." Draco yawned as he got to his feet, but he didn't even bother to cover his mouth with his hand. He was too tired to mind his manners. Stumbling a little, he headed to the stairs.

Barely noticing Malfoy leaving, Harry kept staring at Ron. His friend looked so strange lying there. Ron never stayed still for long, especially when sleeping.

"It's best to leave him there."

Harry looked up and then smiled wanly at Snape. "Yeah. I don't think I could carry him upstairs now." If Ron wouldn't really wake up for hours, he'd be comfortable here as well. Harry hesitated. Leaving him alone didn't feel right. "I'll stay with him." He was used to sleeping on chairs and couches.

"It won't make any difference, really. You can't do anything." The potion would work on its own. Snape understood why Harry couldn't leave, it wasn't hard to guess. He would worry if he left Weasley, and he wouldn't want to sleep alone upstairs. "But of course you can sleep here."

"I will." It was painful to watch Ron like this, but Harry didn't want to leave. Didn't think he could sleep in their room all alone. He was still waiting for some kind of a reaction to all that had happened, feeling almost betrayed by the unnatural calmness inside.

He didn't want to wake up in the middle of the night, feeling his skin clammy with sweat, breathing hard as the silence of his room bore down on him. It had happened so often back at Hogwarts, before he'd had Snape to go to. Now, with Ron lying here as still as a corpse, he couldn't handle such silence.

There would be no real sounds in this room either, but at least he'd have the fantasy of not being completely alone here.

A thought hit him. He didn't want to analyze it too much, but simply blurted out, "Could you stay here for a while? With me." He kept his gaze on Ron, not wanting to see Snape's expression right now.

Snape didn't say anything for a moment. He knew Harry would look at him and then ask again if he really needed his company. The silence was mellow, not desperate.

"I..." To his surprise, Snape realized that he didn't have any pressing reason to leave just now. There was nothing urgent for him to do in his rooms, and he didn't think he could fall asleep right now. Staying here with Harry was better than staring at the wall. "All right." He grabbed his wand and then muttered a simple word to enlargen the couch.

Harry smiled at the familiar charm, scooting over to make room. "Thanks."

Gathering his robes around him like a shield, Snape sat down. His body felt heavy, relaxed as he was finally resting.

Had it been anyone else, Harry would have hugged him tight. He knew Snape would abhor such behavior, especially in front of others -- and it didn't matter Ron was unconscious, he he'd still be considered as audience. So instead, he reached out and touched Snape's arm softly. "And thank you. For what you did to Ron. Without you he'd be dead right now."

Snape glanced down at the hand resting on his arm, but didn't shrug it off. "I just did my job, Potter." The words were curt, but there was no displeasure in his voice.

"Maybe. But that doesn't mean I can't thank you." Squeezing his arm just a little, knowing Snape had to feel sore as well, Harry let go and then curled on the corner of the couch.

Deciding not to say anything to that, Snape simply nodded.

Harry yawned, enjoying the soft cushions under his head. This was an excellent couch to sleep on. "So... You mean it?" Seeing the raised eyebrow, he elaborated, "The exam. You won't give it to us on Monday."

"No. I doubt any of you are in condition to think tomorrow, not to mention study," Snape muttered. "Even though that may be a permanent condition with most of you."

It was strange how that didn't seem to come out right. There was no malice in the words, just an echo of weariness.

Hearing the familiar sarcasm actually made Harry feel better. He was wonderfully clean and warm. In a few minutes he'd fall asleep, and knowing that Snape was right here was comforting.

Things had changed. Life had become more complicated, but somehow also simpler.

"I've missed this." Realizing he had actually said it out loud, Harry smiled a little. "Funny, isn't it?" To be so comfortable with Snape. To miss the evenings spent in his rooms.

That was a part of the uneasy feeling he'd had for days now. He saw the man every day and could talk to him whenever he wanted, but it wasn't the same. With Ron and Malfoy there, he didn't have a chance to just be with him.

Snape nodded absentmindedly. It was indeed funny. Ridiculous. The mere concept could empty all the closets in Britain of Boggarts. But he couldn't say he hadn't noticed Harry's absence as well. This was the first time in years when he'd had nothing to do in his rooms. No classes to plan. No potions to brew for various people. No grading, no plotting for the next Death Eater meeting. He'd simply been resting, enjoying the silence.

Still, it had felt like something had been missing. He'd got used to having Harry in his rooms and even if he wouldn't go as far as to say he'd actually missed the boy, he had noticed his absence.

"You know, I don't know whether to be happy about all this or feel really guilty." Yawning, Harry shifted his position. "I mean, here we are, doing almost nothing, and back home, everyone's reading and studying like maniacs. Even with the thing with Potions and all, this is so peaceful."

It could well be the last peaceful moment in their lives, if Malfoy had been right about Voldemort's plan. The summer would arrive pretty soon, and from then on, his life would be about war.

"Enjoy it." Snape chose not to comment on the 'thing with Potions'. He knew Harry was absolutely right. Their stay here was an interlude; a dreamlike moment between tiring battles.

He saw a flash of some darker emotion in Harry's eyes, and knew he didn't have to say anything about the future. They both knew what would come. Both knew about the risks and the losses. Neither had any fantasies about the war.

"I will." It was only a whisper.

Harry snuggled on the cushion, closing his eyes. He didn't want to think about the future, not now when everything seemed so perfect. Thinking would just ruin it. It was best to just cherish the moment; the heavy feeling of drowsiness descending over him, Snape's presence nearby. The faint scent of thyme still lingering in the room.

Still contemplating the war, Snape wondered what the Order was planning. He knew Dumbledore well enough to realize that he probably had the future planned already.

It was a good thing, for whatever would happen, it would be well organized. His old Master had his flaws, but if he listened to Lucius, their attack would be brilliantly detailed. He doubted there would be a full blown attack on Hogwarts. That would be too precarious to the Death Eaters.

The Dark Lord would need his people to establish a stronghold, to take over all the important posts in the wizarding world. They would have to defeat more than just Albus Dumbledore and Harry Potter. Sadly, Snape thought, the rest of their world would probably fall without those two. Fudge was too stupid to really be any danger to Voldemort. Aurors wouldn't be able to fight him off without a good leader.

So it was up to them.

Above all else, the Order had to survive. That also meant that Albus and Harry had to survive. No one else could unite people to actually fight. What a strange thing. The fate of their world laying on the shoulders of an old man and a youngster. A brilliant old man whose mind was as sharp as a blade. A young man who might not be the bravest or the most intelligent, but who would never give up the fight.

The soft sound of snoring interrupted Snape's thoughts. He turned to see Harry fast asleep on the couch.

He couldn't help feeling amused by the sight. Their great hope was drooling on a cushion. He couldn't understand how people wanted to see Harry as a great hero, an object of reverent worship. He might not be a child anymore, but he was still only a human.

Snape pushed the thought out of his head. How strange his mind would keep insisting returning to that.

It was time for him to go to bed. Everyone else was already asleep and there would be a lot to do tomorrow. They still had things to clean, and someone had to take care of the rest of the laundry.

More importantly, he hadn't finished the questions for the exam yet.

Yawning, Snape stretched his legs, feeling reluctant to get up. The small house was so quiet, silence and darkness lulling him towards sleep. He couldn't really stay here on the couch, especially with Harry Potter stretching on it, his feet almost touching him already, but the door seemed to be so damn far away.

Maybe he should stay here for a moment longer. He closed his eyes, determined to simply rest them for a while. Very soon he would get up and go to his room, where he could curl in his bed and not worry about anyone's dirty socks rubbing against his robes.

Harry's socks weren't enough to drive him away; he was simply too tired to get up. Not even the brush of something heavy against his thigh could make him jolt wide awake. He could always make snide comments to Harry about his obvious tendency to invade his privacy in the morning.

Shifting his position a little, Snape laid his hand on the foot that was resting on his lap and drifted off to sleep.

---

Part 9

Sunday morning dawned grey and windy. The sun was obscured by dark clouds that would undoubtedly bathe the cottage with rain any minute now.

Draco groaned as he opened his eyes and caught a glimpse of the sky from the window. He shouldn't be surprised by the ghastly weather, but seeing the rainclouds made him miserable anyway. So it would rain again. He just hoped he'd have the chance to go and get the laundry in before it started.

The thought made him jolt up. Yes. The clothes. He'd left them to dry as he'd dragged Weasley back to the cottage.

It hadn't just been a weird and twisted dream.

Since he knew there was no way he could fall asleep again, Draco got up. He wasn't used to waking up early, preferring to laze in the bed for hours if he had nothing better to do, or if he had some company. Now it seemed that he couldn't sleep all that late anymore, not even on weekends, when he'd rarely got up before noon.

Of course the fact that he didn't stay up till the wee hours might have something to do with it. There were no parties or exhausting company here. Only hard work and studying, that drove him to bed a few hours after dinner.

He felt light headed as he pulled on his old robes and ran a comb through his hair. Had to be because he'd last eaten at lunch yesterday. His belly confirmed his suspicions by letting out a loud growl a moment later. What a strange sensation. He couldn't remember ever really being hungry. The heir of Malfoy had never had to go without food and drink.

Pushing the thought away, he left his room in search of breakfast.

It was all quiet when he sneaked down the stairs. None of the portraits were awake yet, so there were none of the usual greetings. He had no idea of what time it was, especially since it was grey and misty outside.

Hopefully there was still breakfast. He had suspicions that Eppy would happily carry the food away a few minutes after serving it if they didn't appear in the kitchen in time.

Draco was smiling slightly as he reached the bottom of the stairs.

Then he froze, his eyes going wide as he stared into the living room, gawking at the men sleeping there.

He'd known Weasley would be there, lying still just the way they'd left him. Seeing him was a kind of relief. It puzzled him; the strange selfless joy of having someone else survive an attack. Especially someone as irritating as Ron Weasley.

The still figure lying on the couch by the window wasn't the thing that shocked him the most. His mind went completely numb as he turned his gaze to the other couch, to the Head of his House and Harry Potter.

Snape was sitting at the end of the couch, eyes closed and breathing evenly. Even in sleep, he looked as rigid and forbidding as always. It seemed as if the couch was larger than it had been the previous evening, big enough to have a man sleep there and even have enough space for someone else to sit there. That was painfully obvious, seeing how Potter was lying there, resting his head on a cushion on one end of the couch, his feet on Snape's lap on the other side.

That made Draco blink. Suddenly he wasn't certain he wasn't sleepwalking. If he was dreaming, this was the weirdest dream ever; not resenting Weasley, imagining Potter drooling into the dark blue cushion while he was snuggled against the most feared teacher Hogwarts had ever seen.

His sudden intake of breath made Snape's eyes snap open. The dark gaze was clear, taking in the situation immediately without hesitations. He looked at the red and yellow striped socks resting on his lap, frowning a little as he realized he was actually still holding Harry's feet. The frown melted away a moment later, making way for amazement in his eyes.

Snape turned his head slightly. Something must have woken him up. He saw Draco Malfoy standing by the stairs looking shocked. It didn't surprise him. "Good morning, Mr. Malfoy."

"Er..." It had been some time since Draco's voice had cracked like that. "Good morning, professor Snape."

As if nothing was amiss, Snape pushed Harry's feet off his lap, causing the sleeping Gryffindor to squirm in his sleep and mumble incoherent protests. A moment later Harry turned around and stretched his legs so that his feet were back on Snape's lap.

Draco shivered, knowing something awful was about to happen. There had been times in the Potions class when he'd been certain Snape was a moment from hexing Potter and his friends and had used all his willpower to restrain himself. There was no need for such restrains right now.

It was be probable Potter would spend the rest of his life as a newt.

Sighing as if he'd been expecting for something like this, Snape reached out and shook Potter's leg. "Wake up, Potter." His voice was cold as always.

That resulted in more squirming. Harry turned over again and hid his head under one of the cushions.

Mornings like this were familiar to Snape. He'd usually had to wake the Gryffindor up after going through his morning routines whenever he'd spent the night in the dungeons. At least Harry didn't mistake him for Weasley anymore. "Potter! Wake up!"

After a moment, the cushion dropped on the floor as Harry groaned something and waved with his hand. He was slowly waking up, unable to drift away again.

Harry's gaze was unfocused as he stretched out luxuriously and blinked a few times. Scratching his neck, he lifted his head, wondering where the hell he was. This place didn't seem familiar.

Memories of the previous night enveloped him as he saw Ron sleeping across the room. He suddenly realized he was lying on the couch downstairs. He must have fallen asleep while having a conversation with Snape. That was probably why he'd slept so well, even on a very uncomfortable couch. At least his feet felt warm.

"Good morning, Potter. Now that you are awake, could you please move your feet."

The words made Harry jolt up. "What?"

Draco had an urge to laugh, but he knew that would probably be the last mistake he ever made. Potter looked so stupid sitting there and gawking at the professor. Apparently the Gryffindor didn't even realize he still had his feet on Snape's lap.

It was a wonder Snape hadn't hexed him yet. Draco couldn't even imagine doing something like that, invading his professor's personal space.

"Oh." Harry finally realized what was wrong. Slowly, he moved his feet and then spent a moment searching for his glasses on the floor before sitting cross legged on the couch. He smiled at Snape as soon as everything was clear once again. "Sorry. I hope I didn't keep you up all night. Or kick you or anything."

His mind was a bit fuzzy as always at this time of the day, but he could still sense the odd peace that had fallen over him and Snape last night. It wasn't exactly like back at Hogwarts, but it was close enough for him to enjoy it.

"Eppy has probably served the breakfast already." Ignoring the inquiries, Snape turned back to look at Draco, who was still standing by the stairs as if frozen in place. "We should all get something to eat since none of us had any dinner last night."

It irritated him that he couldn't remember if he'd put a simple preservation charm over the soup kettle yesterday. Exhaustion was something he was used to; it never made him forget things. Seemed like everything was askew somehow.

Realizing that was a dismissal, Draco muttered, "Yes, sir," and padded to the kitchen. Maybe Snape wanted to punish Potter in private and didn't want an audience.

"Your friend will not wake up for some time now, so I'd suggest you follow young Malfoy." Not even looking at Harry, Snape stood up and walked to his room, his crumpled robes billowing limply.

Harry just sat there, scratching his head. It felt like his hair was standing on end, but otherwise everything seemed great. Seeing Ron breathe evenly made him feel almost giddy with relief. For once things seemed to be all right.

Breakfast was good as always. Eppy kept hovering by the doorway, as if waiting for Ron to appear even though she had been told he'd be sleeping through the breakfast. Harry didn't know if her anxiousness was because of worry that Ron wouldn't be all right or because he might actually wake up and come to eat. He never knew with Eppy.

Ignoring the house elf, he munched his toast, trying hard not to grin at Snape every once in a while.

For Draco, the breakfast seemed surreal. He'd been certain Snape would hex Potter, and now he was just sitting there, drinking his tea as if nothing had happened.

No. It was even worse. Potter seemed to be thinking about something amusing, casting weird looks at Snape. And the professor either ignored him or raised an eyebrow slightly, almost encouraging the silly smiles.

It was driving him crazy.

He was confused by the waves of jealousy he felt towards Potter. It was stupid. He had no claims on Snape, his status as the ward of the Slytherin House didn't give him any privileges, not even with Snape's promise to offer him the protection of his own House.

Yet, if he wanted to, he could call himself a Snape now. He had every legal and moral right, for his professor had made his offer in front of hundreds of witnesses.

And here was his guardian, bonding with Harry Potter on levels he'd never thought possible.

Slamming his mug down with more force he'd intended, Draco bit back curses that threatened to escape him. He did not understand what was so bloody special about Potter. People seemed to do stupid things because of him, but he'd never thought he'd see Snape join the Gryffindor hero fan club.

Not that Snape was fawning over him like most of the people in Hogwarts were. He didn't even seem to treat him kindly. There was just something between those two, the way they looked at each other; like they were comfortable together.

Draco wasn't going to even think about what the relaxed sight that had greeted him in the living room meant. He still felt slightly uncomfortable every time he sat on the same couch with his professor, and he never sat close enough to touch him.

Still, he wondered what Weasley would have thought of the whole scene if he'd witnessed it. His perfect friend cuddling with the dreaded Potions master. It was definitely a hilarious mental image, for Weasley would have undoubtedly had a fit.

He had to think of a way to bring that into conversation if possible.

After breakfast, Snape disappeared into the kitchen with Eppy in tow. The old house elf seemed to shiver with the need to scold him, but even she knew when to be quiet.

Harry watched the two go with a smile on his lips. It would be nice to just relax today. Snape hadn't said anything about the exam, so he assumed they'd have a few days to study for it. He couldn't concentrate anyway. As long as Ron was still unconscious, he wouldn't be able to memorize anything Potions related.

The thought made him head back to the living room to keep an eye on his friend.

Since Malfoy had disappeared somewhere, it was quiet in the living room. Harry picked up the cushion that was still on the floor before going to Ron. A smile that had never quite disappeared bloomed on his lips again.

It seemed like Ron was better. Some of the potion had dried off his face, revealing healthy pink skin instead of that awful deadly pallor from the previous night. He seemed to be breathing more easily as well.

Apparently the potion they had brewed -- or Snape had brewed and they had helped -- had worked. He'd never actually doubted the antidote wouldn't be potent, but even Snape had looked doubtful last night. It was a relief to see Ron look so good, but it would be better when he finally woke up.

They'd have to talk about paying attention to their surroundings. The snake hadn't seemed to be hostile, agreeing to help them for a small price. Harry was certain she hadn't bitten Ron on purpose. Having a dead human lying that close to her nest would just bring trouble as all kinds of carrion eaters rushed to feast. It was obvious Ron hadn't looked where he'd been going, probably keeping his attention on Malfoy.

That couldn't happen again. They were all fugitives one way or the other. If it had been Death Eaters attacking instead of the small snake, they could all be dead now.

He would have to talk to Ron about it when they were alone. If he missed the chance, Snape would undoubtedly make a few comments about Gryffindor stupidity sooner or later. This time he couldn't even disagree with Snape. Dropping their guard out here was stupid. It didn't matter who got hurt, they were all important. All lives were and he didn't want to lose anyone.

Harry turned his attention away from his friend as he heard footsteps coming from the staircase. He already knew what he'd see. "Malfoy."

"Yes?" Pulling on his heavy outer robes, Draco didn't bother to even look at Potter. He didn't want to argue this early in the morning. He had better things to do.

"Are you going to get the laundry?" Seeing the curt nod, Harry moved to get his outer robes as well. "Okay. I'll help you." He knew he couldn't let Malfoy go out on his own. It didn't matter that there would be no more danger from the snake. There could be other dangers out there.

Draco looked startled, but didn't say anything. He finished with his robes and then walked to the door. He even waited as Harry went to tell Snape they'd be right outside, even though that made his stomach clench.

It was strange. Not like yesterday, when a promise of violence had shadowed everything he'd done. Unlike with Weasley, the silence was now neutral. Even curious.

They walked to the clothesline and then got to work, neither feeling the urge to fill the silence with inane babbling. Most of the sheets and T-shirts were dry as well as the underwear Draco stuffed in the basket without really thinking what he was doing. The robes were all a bit damp as were the socks.

"I think we'd better take everything back to the cottage." Looking up, Harry could see the dark clouds right above them. "It's definitely going to rain soon."

"I know." For once, there was no sneer evident in the words.

Harry nodded, even though he was pretty sure Malfoy had his back turned at him. He went to put the sheets into the basket and then walked to the bushes for the bright orange T-shirt that was impossible to miss. Seeing the garment in a small heap made him feel a lump in his throat for the first time.

He picked up the soggy shirt, thinking he could wash it back at the cottage and hang it dry in their room. That way it would be waiting for Ron when he finally woke up.

"Um... Malfoy." He hadn't even thought of saying anything to the Slytherin until he heard his own voice. "You probably saved Ron's life yesterday. I don't know if me saying this means anything to you, but... Thank you."

Draco froze as he heard his name, anticipating accusations. The hesitant words stunned him. Was Potter really thanking him? Seriously? He turned around, eyes narrowed in suspicion. This could well be some kind of a plot, a prelude to more taunts.

He saw the serious expression on Potter's face. It wasn't friendly per se, but it didn't seem like he was mocking him either. Instead of making a flippant comment about Weasley, he muttered, "You're welcome." Then he dropped the still damp robes into the basket.

The way things were going was really confusing, and Draco had never cared for confusion. Unless it was on others. At least Weasley and his insane anger was understandable; it didn't make him feel lost, like professor Snape's behavior. The professor seemed to treat Potter almost as if he were... an adult. It was ridiculous, since the Gryffindor was actually the youngest of them all. What could he have done to deserve such treatment?

It started raining a moment after they reached the cottage. The sky seemed almost black with thunder clouds, the world turning hazy with heavy raindrops falling down and lightning flashing overhead.

Shivering slightly, Draco settled on the living room couch that had been turned back to its normal size. He'd felt strange upstairs in his own room. Everything seemed so wild, untamed, the whole world was suddenly raging with violence. He had never really thought about storms and definitely didn't fear them. Experiencing such bad weather while staying in a house that suddenly seemed as secure as a broom shed was something he would have gladly passed.

He tried to concentrate on the book he held, using every ounce of his willpower not to flinch as the lightning danced over their small cottage. The flashes were bearable, but the sound of the thunder made him jump.

It was fortunate that Potter seemed so focused on Weasley, sitting there on the floor next to the other couch. At least now he could maintain some dignity.

The smell of damp cloth was slowly replaced by the warm scent of spices. Draco cast a hesitant glance at the kitchen door. He wondered if it was Snape working in the kitchen. They hadn't seen the professor since they'd returned with the laundry. He'd spread the still damp robes over the railing and doors while Harry had carried piles of dry clothes into their rooms.

He didn't have to wonder about Snape's whereabouts for long. A few minutes later the kitchen door opened and Snape snapped, "Lunch is served," before slamming the door shut again.

Draco was surprised to see that it was indeed lunchtime. The darkness outside made it seem like it was later in the evening, completely disorienting him.

There was no sight of Eppy anywhere. The table was set, deep bowls and spoons surrounding a steaming pot. As Draco sat down, Snape carried a freshly baked loaf of bread to the table. It made Draco blink again, but he didn't dare to comment on his professor, even to say that the soup smelled nice. He simply reached for the pot.

Harry wolfed down his food, feeling ravenous. He for one wasn't at all surprised by the subtle spicy taste of the soup. If a man could excel in making potions, he could probably cook as well as any gourmet chef.

Grinning at Snape, he said, "We should let you cook more often. This is really good." He accented the praise by shoving another spoonful into his mouth.

Snape let out a small grunt that didn't sound completely displeased. "Speaking with your mouth full must be one of your least charming Gryffindor traits, Potter. I would appreciate it if you learned how to swallow before making inane comments."

The smile widened a bit. Not at all offended by the curt words, Harry finished with the last spoonfuls and then reached out for the pot to get more soup. He didn't miss the glint in Snape's eyes, but decided against saying anything more. They both knew he wasn't just complimenting the man for nothing.

Keeping his gaze firmly on his plate, Draco was trying to figure out what was happening here. He'd never paid attention to the way his professor and Potter interacted before. It had always been the same; Potter making heated remarks and Snape reducing House points, with mutual loathing and hatred barely hidden between them. It was different now. Those two sounded like they were old... comrades.

It was troubling. He'd known of the Order of the Phoenix, just as everyone had; had known that Harry Potter was one of the most important members. Now it seemed as if the Head of Slytherin had also been one of Dumbledore's fighters. How else would they be so comfortable around each other?

Draco was impressed. He'd never seen any signs that Snape didn't hate Potter. His father had always sneered at Snape and made scornful comments about him, but even he hadn't suspected Snape of being anything other than what he seemed to be. A simple Potions master who craved power.

He had really been a perfect spy. Of course he had been; he was a Slytherin after all.

Everything they did was supposed to be sneaky and well organized. Draco smiled cynically at the thought. Yes. Unlike his almost Gryffindor behavior in the Great Hall when months of desperation had driven him into something even Snape must see as idiotic heroism.

He chewed on the small piece of bread and tried to push such thoughts out of his mind.

Placing the spoon on the empty plate, Harry sighed happily. "Thank you, Snape. That was excellent." He saw the raised eyebrow and added, "I mean it. The food was great."

"Will your gratitude wash the dishes, Potter?" It was really a rhetoric question. Snape knew that he wouldn't be eager to obey his every wish, like Malfoy.

"No. I'm not volunteering to wash them either. Like I said, I'm not a total idiot." There was laughter in Harry's voice. He felt wonderful. For the first time in a long time, everything seemed perfect, and he was going to enjoy it while it lasted.

Draco on the other hand was busy choking on his food.

"Mr. Malfoy!" Snape cast a disapproving glance on him. "Please try to..." His voice faded away as a loud crash came from the living room.

Pushing his chair back so hard it slammed into the wall, Harry jumped to his feet. "It's Ron!" Not waiting for any replies, he rushed out of the room. The muffled curses proved that his friend was very much alive. Still, he had to get to him as quickly as possible.

He almost laughed at the scene that greeted him. Ron had obviously tried to get up right after waking up, and had ended up as a messy bundle on the floor. The blanket was slipping, and Ron was flailing with his hands while glaring at Harry.

It wouldn't have been as amusing if he weren't mostly yellow, the dried potion turning even his hair pale.

"'arry! 'elp!" The sounds coming from him were mere croaks, but his gaze focused sharply on his friend. He seemed relieved and stopped the flailing.

Harry couldn't stop the bubbling laughter now. It wasn't simply amusement. He was so damn glad to see that Ron was all right. "Easy there, Ron. You're safe." Walking to his friend, he held out his hand. "Come on. Let's get you back to the couch."

Nodding, Ron allowed him to help him up. He felt really weak. Dizzy even. His mind was a blur. He remembered washing clothes with Malfoy. Then a surge of irritation and a small snake slithering away from him as his ankle started burning.

"Snake! I was bitten by a snake!" The words came out as a mumble, but at least he didn't sound like Hagrid's second cousin anymore. "My foot!"

"It's all right, Ron. That happened yesterday. Malfoy got you here safely and Snape was able to make an antidote to the poison. You're fine."

Ron gawked. Opening his mouth, he sputtered something, but nothing intelligible came out. It almost looked like he was going into a shock again. Finally he managed to ask, "What?"

He couldn't believe what Harry had just said. Malfoy would never get him anywhere safely. The last memory he had of him was shoving him against a tree and ignoring the angry look on his face. And Snape! Well, he could understand him showing off with his skill with potions, but to voluntarily brew something to save his hide? That was highly unlikely.

"You're all right. The antidote worked." It was clear to Harry that wasn't what Ron was asking. "And yes. They did save your life."

Pulling his blanket tighter around himself -- and was he naked underneath it? -- Ron shook his head, totally flabbergasted. "Why would they do that?"

"Because, Mr. Weasley, even with dozens of idiots in my class, I have not lost a student under my care yet," came the sarcastic answer from the doorway.

There was an uncomfortable silence. Ron hadn't really thought Snape would be there to hear his words. He was simply reacting to the strange situation as best as he could, which wasn't all that well. Looking down on the floor, he tried not to show his confusion or fear.

Snape didn't say anything either. He cast a knowing look at Harry before walking to the couch. Telling Weasley what a total idiot he was would be a waste of time. None of his older brothers had ever listened to him, so he doubted this one would make an exception. Maybe his ineptitude was genetic, generations of Gryffindors shaping him into what he was now.

"Lie back." No potions were needed now that Weasley was up. He was quite obviously back to his normal self. Snape needed to check out a few things before dismissing him. The potion was potent and sometimes it caused strange side effects on people.

Ron's eyes went wide. That almost sounded like Snape wanted to examine him. No way. He would rather die. "Huh?"

"You almost died, Mr. Weasley." Explaining like he was talking to a two years old, Snape moved closer. "I need to see if you're all right now. So lie back." He didn't add the 'and shut up' even though it was there on his lips.

Protecting students and other idiots was his duty now. Since they couldn't take Weasley to see Poppy, he would have to make sure he was all right. He might not know everything about snakes, but he did know how his potion was supposed to work, and what signs would show if it didn't.

It looked like Ron was about to protest, but a cough and a glare from Harry made him shut his mouth. His skin was crawling even before Snape put his ink stained fingers on his forehead. The sensation was completely disgusting, but he tried to bear with it.

Harry watched with a slight frown on his face as Ron flinched every time Snape moved and cringed as he touched him. He wondered if such behavior was a residue from the snake's poison. Maybe it oversensitized people.

A moment later he realized that there was nothing wrong with Ron. It was simply the way he reacted to Snape.

Thinking hard, he couldn't remember ever really seeing Snape touch anyone voluntarily. He had helped people up -- grabbing them by the collar and yanking them up -- after collapsing in class. He had restrained Millicent by touching her shoulder briefly that time when she'd tried to attack Hermione. But that was it.

The memory of his hands holding Snape's arm flashed clear in his mind, followed by others. Fleeting innocent touches he'd used to emphasize his gratitude after the man had saved McGonagall's and then Ron's life. His feet on his lap.

Why was Snape allowing such familiarity? Harry had no idea. It was clear that Snape was the most private person he knew. It was a thing he envied. No one ever crowded him or pawed him or invaded his privacy.

Harry blinked. The things he had done were not really invading privacy. At least he didn't see them as such. He would never do that, knowing how precious peace and quiet were to people like him and Snape.

He would have to pay more attention to his actions, to see if Snape didn't actually mind his closeness or if he simply forced himself to tolerate it. He didn't want to be a nuisance. Didn't want to offend Snape like that.

Keeping his contact brief, Snape touched Ron's neck fleetingly. He couldn't feel the lumps there anymore, the swelling gone down already. His antidote had indeed worked perfectly. Not that he'd ever had any doubts on the matter.

He grabbed his wand and then cast a simple charm on the boy to be absolutely certain.

That made Ron flinch again.

At least there was no sight of Malfoy. Seeing him grin in the background would really have ruined Ron's day.

"I know you don't like Potions, Mr. Weasley, but to take such extreme measures to assure that the exam is postponed is completely ludicrous." Glaring at the boy, Snape finished with his examination.

Harry smiled slightly. "So he'll be all right?" It was already clear by the slightly relaxed look on Snape's face.

"Yes. There should be no side effects from the potion. Mr. Weasley here will be able to get up shortly. Eat first, that will help with your recuperation. You should take a bath after eating. Once again I'd suggest you to use a lot of soap." Looking disdainfully at the yellow flecks on Ron's skin, Snape put away his wand. "Don't over extend yourself. No stupid stunts for at least a day. I know it may be a lot to ask, but please try."

With that, he left the room.

Ron watched him walk out, the black robes billowing. Then he turned to Harry, looking incredulous. "Can you believe that bastard? All concerned about his stupid exam!"

Sighing, Harry shook his head. He should have known Ron wouldn't hear the slightly teasing note in Snape's words. "He was joking, Ron. You know? A joke. Saying something funny."

"Yeah. Right. Snape made a joke." Ron rolled his eyes.

Sometimes Harry could be so damn blind. Must be because of all the time he'd been forced to spend with Snape in super secret meetings or something.

Harry decided to drop the matter. "I'll get you something to eat." He was certain the soup was still warm. It was better not to tell Ron that Snape had cooked; that would just make him splutter and make rude comments. "Then I'll take you to the river. Let's stay away from bushes and snakes for a while, okay?"

"Yes, mother." Sticking out his tongue, Ron leaned against the cushions again. He sniffed the air, noticing the alluring scent wafting from the kitchen. "So what are we having for lunch?"

---

Part 10

Evenings were finally back to normal. Or as normal as they ever got around here.

Harry was keeping his gaze on the notebook, marveling at his handwriting. The notes had been made during his first and second year, when he'd still studiously copied most of the things his professors had said. It was kind of sad to read the clear text now, when his most recent notes were barely understandable.

Shrugging the thought about the way he scribbled things these days out of his mind, he tried to concentrate on the text. He didn't really have to worry about writing badly right now. The worst was over.

They had taken the written part of the Potions exam that afternoon. Snape had given them one extra day to read, but that was the extent of his generosity. Since Ron had recovered well, there had been no need to postpone the dreaded exam.

To be quite honest, Harry had been relieved. He'd spent so much time reading about potions, his head was almost spinning. He just wanted to get the whole thing over with.

There had been a moment of total panic when Snape had handed them the scrolls, revealing the few questions that would measure the knowledge they had gained during their seven years of studying. It had passed quickly as Harry had read through the questions. He'd known he wouldn't get top score from the N.E.W.T.s -- especially the Potions -- but he'd been fairly sure he would pass. Writing down his answers, he'd known he was not going to fail the written exam.

It had been strange to actually be confident of such a thing. Had to be because of all the evenings he'd spent in Snape's rooms reading textbooks. Having listened to the things the man had told him helped. He wondered if anyone else had known to mention Dugbog eyes while writing the essay about love potions.

Harry turned the page. He couldn't really concentrate on the text, but he knew he had to try. They had two days to get ready for the final part of the exam and he had no illusions about Snape being lenient. The potion they'd have to brew would undoubtedly be difficult and challenging.

Next to him, he could hear Ron fidget and mumble something to himself. That distracted him from his efforts to try to study. Unfortunately, the distraction was not welcome this time.

It had been like that for almost three days now. He'd thought Ron would mellow a bit after such a close call. Malfoy hadn't turned into a total bastard, even though his smirk was back. There didn't seem to be a reason for those two to fight.

Still, they did. All the time. Mostly with glares and angry glances, but sometimes Ron threw in a few curt words and muttered curses.

Harry didn't know what drove Ron to such behavior. There hadn't been much time for him to talk to his friend about it, but he doubted Ron even knew the reason himself. It almost seemed as if the need to be nasty towards Malfoy came from his subconscious. It was definitely irrational now.

They were all concentrating on the exam, reading and practicing for the last part. Harry had no idea of what would happen afterwards, when the four of them had to spend weeks upon weeks in the cottage, trying to coexist peacefully.

Maybe he should talk about it with Snape. He might have some suggestions. If nothing else worked, Snape could talk to Malfoy who would definitely listen to the Head of his House. Harry would have to deal with Ron somehow. The problem was, he had no idea how, not even if he knew what was driving him to rage.

"I'll go to bed now." Shutting his notebook softly, Draco got to his feet. He looked at his professor. "Good night, sir." He didn't even glance at the other end of the room as he turned around and walked out of the living room.

Snape nodded back at him, barely turning his attention from the huge book he was browsing through.

The mood in the room seemed to mellow a bit. Ron was definitely less tense but he did keep glancing warily at Snape every once in a while. He was still confused about what had happened to him; from being bitten to waking up naked and covered with dry and itchy potion, it was all a haze. A part of him wanted to know exactly what had happened, but he hadn't asked Harry about all the details. He wasn't sure he really wanted to know.

He waited for Malfoy to return from the outhouse before getting up and going out himself. He hoped the git had shooed most of the insects away, so he wouldn't have to do that himself.

If he saw one more spider inside the loo, he'd probably have a mental breakdown.

As the door slammed shut behind Ron, Harry lowered his notebook to his lap. It was the first time he had the chance to be alone with Snape for a few days. He wanted to spend these few moments quietly with Snape, with no worries, but he really couldn't.

"Have you found any good potions that will probably make us all go insane yet?" He knew there would be a glare, but asked anyway.

Snape raised his gaze from the book. "I doubt most of you would need a potion to achieve such state." The glare was pointed at the doorway, speaking volumes. "But to answer that pathetic attempt of fishing out clues, no, I haven't decided on the potion yet, Potter."

"I would never fish for clues!" There was actually real outrage in Harry's voice. He was not idiotic enough to think he'd ever actually succeed in such an attempt with Snape. "And you know that."

Snape didn't say anything, but his gaze was definitely not angry. He did know that. Harry was a Gryffindor after all. He wouldn't cheat on this.

Small talk was never a good idea with Snape. Harry had known that since the beginning, but something had made him try. It was probably the whole topic he was thinking of; talking about Ron and his problems felt like betrayal somehow.

There was no one else to talk to. Back home he'd have talked with Hermione, but she wasn't here. He was at a loss and knew Snape would probably have some insight on what was driving Ron to fight with Malfoy all the time.

"I need to talk to you about something." The words were so familiar. They had once been the prelude to an incoherent ramble or a softly spoken problem Harry had spent nights trying to solve. He didn't need that anymore, hadn't needed for a long time now.

Snape didn't even bother to pretend he didn't know what was going on. He'd got used to seeing Harry without the haunted look. "Weasley and Malfoy."

"Yes. They're really starting to bug me. Sometimes I just want to tell them to go and smack each other for an hour or two and get over it, but I don't think that would work. They're so caught up in this... whatever, that they'd probably kill each other."

It did sound probable. "It does seem like that, yes." How amazing that Harry wasn't blaming young Malfoy. "Have you talked to your friend about this?" Not that talking would do any good. From his experience with the brood of redheaded children, Snape knew that the Weasley skull was thicker than the standard cauldron.

"No." The way Harry said it clearly illustrated that he didn't think that would work either.

A log fell in the fireplace, making them both startle slightly. Watching the fire burn was an excellent way to fill the silence following Harry's denial.

The silence couldn't last forever. Harry knew he had to address the real problem behind the big angry mess Ron and Malfoy had got themselves into.

"Ron really hates Malfoy." It wasn't surprising, really. The blond pureblood had been a pain in the arse for years. But things had changed. "Even now. I know he's an arrogant bas..." At Snape's raising eyebrow, Harry still finished the word as he'd intended. "Bastard. But he did turn his back on Voldemort, and he did save Ron's life."

That was something he couldn't really understand.

Snape's expression could have been a smile if not for the cold look in his eyes. "Do you remember your first year at Hogwarts? The way your Potions master seemed to be so thrilled about having the son of James Potter in his classroom." He could see from the faint flinch that the boy did indeed. "It's no wonder Mr. Weasley doesn't like Draco Malfoy."

"That's different. If you'd stopped acting like a bear that's been shot in the arse, I wouldn't have hated you anymore. You provoked me after you saved my life and got even nastier than before. But Malfoy's just trying to stay out of Ron's way. It's different."

"I know." Snape was actually amazed of Harry's words. He could understand people flinging his personal traits at his face -- the 'nasty, evil and sarcastic' usually accompanied by at least one slur at his outer appearance -- but to have it commented on in passing was new.

He couldn't really believe he'd brought up the subject himself either. It wasn't like him to explain his actions, especially when thinking about the whole mess with the four Gryffindors. Everything that had happened with them, including the incident a few years earlier in the old house in Hogsmeade, had been a total disaster.

Not exactly cherished memories he wanted to visit often.

The situation between young Weasley and young Malfoy was getting more complicated every day now. He needed to make Harry understand what was behind such behavior, in case he tried to stick his nose into it. He probably would. After all, he was a Gryffindor.

"Ron can't see anything good in Malfoy." Frowning a little, Harry asked, "You think it's because he doesn't want to feel grateful? Like you didn't... Well, you know." It was something he'd never talked about with Snape, knowing the other man didn't want to dwell in the past. The curt comment a moment ago had been about their past, not about Snape's own private demons.

Now there was amusement in Snape's eyes, the half smile making him look even more evil than the scowl. "Yes, I do remember. I doubt it's that simple in this case. Your friend has hated Draco since the beginning. I'm certain both Arthur and Lucius warned their sons about each other. I on the other hand never really felt anything towards your father and his idiot friends before..." He was not going to go there, so he cut his original thought and finished with, " ...one of them tried to kill me."

Harry accepted that with a nod. He knew well that Snape wasn't talking about Remus when he talked about what had happened in the Shrieking Shack. It was one of the things he didn't talk about with Sirius. His godfather did seem to regret the whole thing, but not because of Snape.

Not a good basis for a deep conversation.

When Ron came back from the loo and private conversation with Snape became impossible, he was still thinking about the whole thing. He didn't concentrate on what had happened decades ago, since he couldn't change anything about that. Didn't want to think about stupid things his father and his friends might have done out of spite.

Thinking about the way Snape had commented on their earlier relationship was much easier, even though it did make him feel a bit strange. Snape had clearly hated him back then. In a way he could understand it, but it had become a distant memory now.

He simply couldn't see Snape like that anymore. He doubted Snape saw him like that either. If he did, he wouldn't talk to him like he was a person, he'd treat him like a student like he so obviously still did with both Ron and Malfoy.

Smiling, Harry sat there, staring at the flames in the fireplace until it was time to go to bed.

The bedroom wasn't completely dark with all the light coming from the moon. Ron had burrowed under his blankets and was now snoring slightly. He'd been a bit tired all day since he'd stayed up late the previous night, trying to memorize more stuff from his potions books.

He'd fallen asleep a few minutes after going to bed. Not even the angry thoughts about Malfoy could keep him awake.

Harry on the other hand was lying on his back, staring at the ceiling. He couldn't really see much without his glasses, just a hazy outline of the rafters. It didn't matter. He wasn't interested in looking at stuff anyway. He was too busy thinking.

Watching Ron huff with annoyance every time he tried to mention Malfoy was really getting on his nerves. The constant bickering was destroying his peace, the illusion the cottage had provided. He knew their calm coexistence couldn't last forever and that they would have to return to the real world eventually. This was probably his only chance for real relaxation and serenity for a long time and he wanted to enjoy it a moment longer.

He had to admit that he couldn't leave all his responsibilities behind. He was concerned about Ron and while that concern could just be something a friend should show in a situation like this, it was becoming more than that. Maybe he did take this too seriously, but he really didn't need to be dealing with Ron's problems right now, especially when after the Potions exam, they would have to start talking about the war again. There were strategies and plans they'd have to think of.

There would be no more time to simply enjoy his life.

Annoyed by the darkness of his own thoughts, Harry sat up. He wasn't tired and lying here would just make his head hurt. Maybe he'd go to sit by the window. That had always calmed him back home, sitting and staring at the landscape opening from the castle, Hedwig sitting next to him and cooing softly. He put on his glasses, not wanting to invite the headache by staring blearily into the blurry haze either.

It was pretty here. The sights and scents reminding him of home.

A soft sound made Harry tense. Down below, the door had just been opened and then shut quietly. If he hadn't sat here, he wouldn't have probably even heard that.

None of the wards reacted to the thing. Still, Harry moved to grab his wand. The movement was instinctual, the alarms going off in his head. Wards might fail. The Death Eaters knew lots of charms, and even though Snape had probably checked their wards every day, someone could get lucky.

Harry sneaked back to the window, keeping in the shadows as he peeked down. He didn't want to give anyone a big target by standing at the window. His hand was squeezing the wand tight.

What he saw made him tense. There was definitely someone out there, but they weren't coming towards the cottage. A dark figure was moving away from the door. A moment later Harry relaxed, lowering his wand. He'd recognize the man anywhere.

It was Snape. Probably going to the loo.

The shadows hid Harry's smile. He leaned against the window pane, relieved. The surge of adrenaline had chased away whatever tiredness he might have felt, so he decided to stand here for a moment longer, at least until Snape returned safely to the cottage.

His gaze followed the man. Frowning, he realized that Snape wasn't heading towards the small outhouse after all. That didn't make sense; he should know better than to go wandering off alone in the middle of the night.

Of course if he had some urgent business out there, he wouldn't come and ask for anyone to accompany him. Stubborn man!

Harry slipped his robe over his pajamas and then padded to the door. Carrying his shoes, he walked down the stairs, making sure none of the boards creaked. He didn't want to wake anyone up. When he reached the door, he put on his shoes and the heavy outer robes. Silently, he slipped out and followed Snape.

The full moon was hanging high in the sky, illuminating the whole landscape. It made Harry smile a little. A wolf moon. One that made even the most level headed wizard want to howl.

Remus was probably doing that right now. Sitting back on his haunches on some meadow, accompanied by the black form of Snuffles by his side, his muzzle raised towards the sky as he sang the eerie song of untamed nature.

There were no sounds of the wolves here. The whole world seemed unnaturally calm as Harry trailed Snape. His steps were quiet, not even his robes making any sounds as he hurried after the other dark figure. It took Harry a moment to realize what Snape was doing, and when he did, he couldn't help grinning. Of course.

Moving slowly amongst the bushes, Severus Snape was gathering herbs.

Harry watched as the small silvery sickle the man was holding glistened in the moonlight. It was obvious this was something Snape had done often. One swift flick of his wrist, and the sharp crescent blade cut a small branch or a seemingly innocent weed.

Snape was clearly working, and it looked like he was enjoying his task enormously. Walking slowly from tree to tree, bush to bush, he spent moments just staring at some of the shadowy plants.

Darkness seemed to be the natural habitat for this man. Harry couldn't really think of him gathering flowers in the bright daylight. This was different; a part of what Snape had always been. Practical, but somehow appreciating his surroundings.

Harry liked it. Liked the silence and the peace surrounding them both. Sharing this with Snape, even though the other man didn't know he was here. He'd made sure of it, tiptoeing as quietly as he could.

"You should never try to follow someone hostile, Potter." Snape didn't look up from the ground, continuing to scrape the dirt from some roots as he addressed the boy who was trying to hide in the shadows. "Your tracking skills are rather dismal."

"What?" Startled by the words, Harry stepped away from the tree he'd used as a cover.

Snape dug up the small milky white root and then straightened himself, turning to look at Harry. Amusement was evident on his face. "The first rule of scouting. Don't slam the door behind you when you go after someone."

That made Harry fluster a bit, but he was also in awe of Snape's hearing. He hadn't slammed the door shut that hard. That would have probably woken Malfoy up, and he didn't want that to happen. "I have to remember that the next time I go after people who go out alone in the middle of the night even when we have agreed that no one should do anything as stupid as that."

"I think we also agreed that calling your professors stupid isn't productive." Not looking at all remorseful, Snape changed his basket to his other arm, brushing the dirt off his fingers. "Now go back to the house. I'll be all right."

As if Harry would obey such a command. "No." He walked closer to Snape. "If you insist on doing this now, I'll stay here too." He was not going to lose anyone. It didn't matter that their surroundings seemed peaceful -- not counting one irritated snake. He wasn't taking any chances.

"Look, Potter, I can't have you following me. We need more ingredients for the potions you three will brew, and you should not see what I'm gathering." Long experience told Snape that he couldn't order Harry right now. He would have to make him see reason, however unlikely that seemed.

Harry shook his head. "Your faith in my deduction skills is unfounded, Snape." Sometimes even he wondered where the sarcastic words came from. "But you can take off some points or even make me swear that I will not think of whatever weeds you're gathering before the day after tomorrow." There was no way he would leave Snape alone here.

Knowing that Harry would indeed swear that -- and would keep his word if it was upon his honor or something as Gryffindor as that -- Snape sighed. "Fine. Just try not to make a big ruckus."

He continued walking slowly through the small area of trees, hearing soft footsteps follow him. It made him once again wonder about Harry's stubbornness. On moments like this, he was certain he could have reduced every single Gryffindor House point and even hexed the boy before he'd left him be. It was annoying; the protectiveness was completely needless.

Still, Snape could recognize that in himself too. Usually it was aimed at his Slytherins, trying to urge them on in the world that would easily treat them as storybook villains. Duty had forced him to extend that protectiveness to Harry Potter, and it had slowly become a part of who he was.

Not paying attention to the quiet figure next to him, he collected more plants. He didn't just need ones for the potion his students would brew. Now that he was out here, he might as well collect all he could for future use. The full moon gave potency to most of the ingredients.

It didn't take long for him to fill his basket. Stretching his back slightly, Snape put his sickle back into his belt. He'd spend the next day working on some of the things he'd harvested, but he would definitely leave some as they were. It was a part of the exam, to prepare some ingredients to be used and not just grab cleaned roots and leaves.

A small smile flickered on Snape's lips as he imagined Weasley's expression as he'd grab some of the plants. He was one of the laziest students he'd ever met. It was quite probable that Weasley would ignore the instructions and simply toss the uncleaned fern roots into the potion he was brewing.

Neville Longbottom was not the only student to manage blowing up his cauldron.

Turning around, Snape could see Harry lean against a tree, looking around him with a bemused expression. A moment later the green gaze focused on him.

"I like the moon. It always makes me want to do crazy things. You know, something wild and impulsive." Eyes gleaming behind his glasses, Harry looked at Snape, wondering if he would understand what he was saying.

Snape shifted the small basket on his arm, sneering a little. "I fail to see how that differs from your usual behavior."

Ignoring the comment, Harry took a deep breath. "I think if I were an Animagus, I'd be some kind of a night creature. It would be wonderful to just let go and run free under the stars." His voice was hushed.

"Yes, I can see how that would be appealing to someone like you. Wild animals and young Gryffindors do bear some resemblance to each other."

Harry smiled at that. There were dozens of things he could say to that, ranging from a sarcastic quip about fluffy bunnies to something that would have reduced at least twenty House points from them if they were still at Hogwarts.

He didn't say anything. The night was too magical, too peaceful. He didn't want to hide behind random bickering.

Apparently Snape didn't see any reason for another scathing remark either. He simply stood there, staring at Harry.

How amazing that he was actually enjoying the repartee. Harry was different from the other two youngsters who were probably snoring the night away in the cottage. He didn't cringe or fret in his presence, still not treating him overly disrespectfully either. Almost as if he saw him as an equal. It was somewhat disturbing, for Snape didn't really want to lose his authority in the eyes of someone he'd always considered a brat.

Potter wasn't all that bad. Discerning enough to see that Snape didn't allow impudence in front of others.

Unlike some who would never understand that. Snape felt a small muscle on his cheek twitch at the amusement of the thought. If young Malfoy were in Harry's shoes, he'd exploit his leniency without mercy. Not this stubborn fool.

Harry saw the brief flash of something like laughter in Snape's eyes, feeling light headed at the sight. Who would have thought he'd be standing here in the middle of the night with his sarcastic Potions master, sharing a silent joke with him? It made his stomach flutter. "Snape..." He had no idea what he was going to say.

"We should probably head back to the cottage." Feeling the night close in on them, Snape could well understand how even the Muggles could sense strange tidings in the pale disc of the full moon. He was done with his harvesting. No need to linger out here.

"I know." Harry thought about the small room upstairs where Ron was snoring, probably having weird dreams about Malfoy. He was in no hurry to go back there. He liked it here with Snape.

It was clear that Snape didn't feel the need to return to their little hideaway quickly either. He stood there, looking unusually relaxed, his black gaze a striking contrast against his ghostly white skin.

Harry couldn't help staring at him. He had seen this man naked and yet he'd never seen him as open and approachable as now. It had to be a trick, the shadows cast on the angular face playing with his mind. Still, he was overwhelmed with images of Snape letting his guards down with him. The concentration on his face when he worked on his potions while Harry studied in his rooms. The absentminded look that sometimes accompanied the second cup of tea he drank, clearly indicating he wasn't exactly thirsty, but was indulging himself.

The relaxed expression on the completely exhausted man that day he had returned from the Malfoy Mansion with Minerva McGonagall. Harry doubted he'd ever forget that look. It had made him pull the covers over Snape when his initial plan had simply been to assist the man to his bed so that he wouldn't just collapse on the floor.

He had pulled back then, his hand freezing a moment before brushing a lock of greasy hair away from Snape's face. The memory of that moment had followed him, even though he'd tried really hard not to think about the whole thing.

Because it was utter madness. Even more demented than harboring dark thoughts about the future. A sign that he was indeed losing his mind.

Now that they were both standing here, it didn't sound so foolish; didn't make Harry wonder about his sanity. The fluttering feeling was in his stomach again, stealing his breath away. This time he had a name for the feeling, and it had nothing to do with fear. His gaze locked with Snape's, Harry leaned slightly forward. No, this didn't seem weird after all. It felt right.

And now he was going to kiss Snape.

Snape swallowed as Harry moved closer. There was a hesitant look in Harry's eyes, glistening in the bright moonlight.

The night that had felt so peaceful a moment ago was now filled with strange sensations. Snape wondered if it was a warning of something malignant approaching.

Hoped that the tension was simply a figment of his paranoid imagination.

He didn't know why Harry was still staring at him like that. Such scrutiny usually made him want to walk away, hide from the surprisingly intelligent gaze. He couldn't read the emotion on Harry's face. It could be anything.

He leaned closer. Maybe he was just imagining things.

Like the slight intake of breath, the dilating pupils. Lips that were slowly parting, as if Harry was about to say something without a sound. The way his own fingers tightened their hold on the small basket, needing to grab onto something real.

Warmth was coursing through his veins, making his skin tingle. A reaction from within, not a charm crawling all over him. Something in the air was making him dizzy, and his mind was trying to come up with explanations for it.

He was probably not wearing enough clothes. It was chilly up here, and the strange warmth was probably something his tired mind was conjuring up. The moon could influence him more than he wanted to admit. It could be anything.

He just didn't know.

The dark fire in the young man's eyes certainly wasn't helping him to figure it out. It almost looked like Harry was... "Now, Potter. We should go back right now."

The hoarse words broke the spell, and Harry recoiled back. He felt heat rise to his face and nodded. Yes. They'd better go back right now. Then he could go to the room he shared with Ron and crawl under the bed and never come out again. "Yeah."

Turning back to the small path leading to the cottage so fast his foot almost slipped, Snape wondered what had just happened. He refused to even think about what it had felt like.

No. He had not felt anything, just like the look in Harry's eyes didn't really mean anything. It had simply seemed like the most famous teenager in the whole wizarding world was about to... hug him. Touch him somehow.

Sensing that Harry was following him silently, he sighed.

For the first time ever he wished the mangy mutt was there. Black would be able to coddle his godson and offer him hugs. He did not want to become Harry Potter's personal shoulder to lean on, or some kind of a parenting figure.

That was where they had started a few months ago; it had been the way he'd envisioned the whole thing. Not exactly how it had turned out to be. Their relationship was definitely not that simple, couldn't be explained with just one definition.

He refused to even think about that hazy look in the boy's eyes that had been replaced by intensity, because it had been an expression he'd never seen before. The closest thing he could think about was lust, and that had to be wrong. Lust never had affection and innocence in it.

There was also no way Harry Potter would look at him with lust in his gaze. The boy wasn't that foolish.

Harry was trying desperately to think of something to say, anything to break the very uncomfortable tension between them. He hadn't felt like this with Snape for a long time, and it chilled him. Even his embarrassment after the bathing incident hadn't been half this bad. "Um... Hey, is it true that professor Trelawney goes running naked outside the castle every full moon?" Maybe not the most intelligent thing to ask, but it was better than the silence.

It was a good thing Snape's face was turned away from the boy. At least now he didn't have to suppress the evil smirk. "You really think I would discuss the privacy of other teachers with you, Potter?" Waiting for a beat, he added, "I do however believe that most of the rumors circulating amongst the students are absolutely true."

The admission made Harry laugh. A breathless little sound that was pretty embarrassing.

Snape didn't wait for him to think of something intelligent to say, figuring that he would have to wait for a long time. They were almost at the cottage, the light coming from the windows downstairs welcoming them back. Things would probably look normal tomorrow morning.

He held the door open, shutting it behind Harry and then locking it firmly. Now that he was back inside, he realized how cold it had really been outside. Strange, he hadn't really paid attention to it earlier.

Slowly stripping off his outer robes, Harry stood there in place, reluctant to move. His embarrassment was melting away, leaving all the other emotions behind. He didn't know what to do now. There were things he'd like to discuss with Snape, but he knew it wasn't the right time. He needed to sort things out on his own first.

"You should go to bed." Somehow the surrounding night was still making Snape speak softly.

Harry looked up at him again, the look in his eyes oddly wistful. "I know." He didn't want to go. If he could, he'd follow Snape into the small bedroom full of familiar scents, and spend the night on a chair.

He hesitated to ask the man if he could do it and not only because of Ron and Malfoy.

Something had happened out there to change things between Snape and him. It had brought the undercurrent of unease back, but also tension he'd never felt around this man. It had nothing to do with anger or hatred, no matter how it did burn in his belly.

It was more than desire to stay with someone he trusted and liked. Nothing as simple as that. Harry smiled slightly. "I know." Repeating the words quietly, he thought about the emotion that had driven him to follow Snape that night. Worry. Mixed with things that would have only months ago sounded ridiculous.

Companionship. Joy. Desire. Silly emotions bubbling inside of him. Almost painfully obvious now that he didn't try not to think about them.

Torn between the need to have a moment for himself and the need to stay with Snape, he kept looking at the man, marveling the peace that was still surrounding them. It was unreal, especially because of the mortification that was still festering somewhere inside of him. Life had never felt more complicated, and he wondered what to do next.

In the end, he nodded quietly at Snape and then turned to the staircase. With a whispered, "Good night, Snape," he climbed upstairs.

Snape stood there in the small hallway, looking puzzled.

---

Part 11

After a poorly slept night, Harry wasn't at all surprised to wake up with a headache. Keeping his eyes closed, he lay there in bed, wishing he could fall back asleep.

Entangled in the sheets, feeling a bit sweaty, he couldn't pretend it was because of nightmares anymore. He couldn't remember having any dreams, good or bad. There was only a strangely satisfied feeling that had driven him to learn how to strip his bed and change the sheets before anyone else woke up when he'd been younger.

This time he knew it had nothing to do with extremely pleasant dreams leading to physical gratification.

He stayed there for a long time, trying to ignore the light shining through the window. Finally, he had to open his eyes. It was too bright in the room for him to sleep anymore.

Harry sighed. Things had been going so well lately. No melancholia, no insomnia. He couldn't understand what was happening to him.

It couldn't all be because of the weird conversation with Snape. Or the... thing with Snape.

The thing with Snape.

Staring at the ceiling, he repeated the words in his mind. Exploring the feelings they brought. Peace and calm. Sometimes heated conversations. Things he would add up to friendship if not for the fact that he had tried to kiss the man less than ten hours ago.

He closed his eyes again, as if to shut out the memory. It didn't work. Blocking out the hazy sight of the rafters just brought the images clearer to his mind. He tried to push them away, determined not to think about Snape like that. There was no way he would spend one moment reminiscing about the look in the man's eyes last night in the woods. Or thinking about the way water had rinsed away soap from his naked body.

Groaning, Harry opened his eyes again as his mind completely disobeyed him. Why couldn't he stop thinking about insane things, just this once?

He could bet he was the only one with this strange trouble sleeping. The house was quiet except for Ron's soft snuffling. Malfoy was probably asleep as well. From what he'd gathered, the Slytherin wasn't especially a morning person.

Snape would be downstairs. He'd been up late, so he'd probably still lie there on his bed, dressed in that silly looking night robe he'd worn back at Hogwarts. Harry wondered if he always slept curled into a ball. When he'd helped Snape to bed, he'd held the covers tight and twisted around as if trying to hide amongst the sheets.

The memory that had been somehow warming was suddenly making Harry hot.

Cursing his stupid thoughts, he turned to his side. This wasn't happening! Seeing Snape naked could not change things like this, spending time together and moonlit walks shouldn't make him think these things. This was simply a proof of his twisted imagination. A hormonal thing.

Too bad he wouldn't get rid of the mental image by going to talk to the man. It would have made things so much easier if he could walk downstairs to Snape's room and sit there on the chair while he worked things out with him. By talking. Nothing more. Definitely nothing more.

He realized his hand was moving slowly down his belly towards the rather shocking reaction the thoughts he tried to ignore were causing and sat up, placing his palms on the bed.

This had to stop. Now.

"Good morning!" A yawn followed Ron's words. "Hey, you're awake! Is everything all right?" He couldn't help teasing his friend.

Harry grinned at Ron's question, wondering what he'd say if he answered honestly. There would probably be no words, just spluttering. "Yes, everything's fine." He'd got good with lying, his voice revealing nothing of his inner turmoil.

"Cool." Not needing to lie in bed and curse the fact that he was awake like some people he could mention, Ron got up, gathering his clothes from the floor and sniffing them before starting to pull them on.

After a moment, Harry followed suit, grabbing his clothes from the closet. He'd accomplish nothing by staying in bed. His thoughts would still be there even if he was munching breakfast. Putting on his glasses, he busied himself with getting dressed.

His mind was still focused on his problem.

He should never have gone to Snape in the first place. Then he wouldn't like the man or think insane thoughts about him. Things would be perfect if he was still the nasty Potions master who barked out his name like the most vile curse ever invented and treated him like scum.

If he hadn't spent time together with him, finding a strange feeling of home in the dungeons. If only he hadn't seen Snape naked.

It should have been the most disgusting moment of his life. It should have scarred his psyche, terrified him. And damn it! Snape should have looked ugly or creepy or at least he should have had hairy back!

Harry banged his forehead against the wall.

"Are you sure you're all right?" Worried, Ron sat on his bed and stared at his friend. There was something he really needed to ask, but hadn't been certain if he should. Now he thought he kind of had to.

"I... I have no idea. Ask me after breakfast." Harry tried to make a joke out of it. He could tell by the look in Ron's eyes that he had failed miserably.

"This thing wouldn't have anything to do with what happened last night?"

The question froze Harry. Since when had Ron turned into a mind reader? "What do you mean?" He hoped his voice didn't really sound as weak as he thought. He was definitely panicking.

Keeping his expression blank, Ron said, "I noticed you went out for a walk last night." He nodded slightly at the wince he saw on Harry's face. "First I thought you'd just gone to the outhouse, but you were gone awfully long." Of course it didn't mean he'd gone somewhere other than to the small red toilet, but the wince had proven his suspicions right.

"Yeah, I did go for a walk." Harry kept his gaze on his best friend. Something in Ron's voice made him realize he couldn't evade the questions anymore. If he lied, he would seriously damage the friendship that meant the world to him.

Ron tilted his head. "So? You went out there all alone, and all you can say is that?" He tried to keep his voice level. Honestly. He didn't really succeed.

"No. Not alone."

The quiet admission was a surprise. Blanching, Ron wondered if Malfoy was playing some kind of a game with Harry too. The thought made him burn with rage, a strange mixture of anger and awful jealousy. "With Malfoy?" He was going to kill him.

Harry raised an eyebrow. "Malfoy? No." He decided not to make any comments about Ron's tone. After all, right now, he was the last person to say anything about weird relations with Slytherins.

"Then who... Oh." Realizing it was a stupid question, Ron paused. Then he yelled, "Snape? You went out for a walk with Snape?"

"Yes." What a strange thing really. A simple, enjoyable walk with someone he was perfectly comfortable with. Not even the almost-kiss had managed to ruin their companionable mood.

"Are you insane? Why the hell would you go for a... With Snape? Why?" Ron knew that there had been Order meetings from which he'd been excluded and that Harry tried to pretend that Snape was a human being, but this was too much. Unbelievable. Crazy.

The obvious shock made Harry smile slightly. Yes, that would have been his own reaction six months ago, but not anymore. It had nothing to do with the strange attraction he felt towards Snape, it was much more complicated than that. "I think I need to tell you something. Promise not to yell." It was a good thing Ron was already sitting down.

"Okay."

Harry took a deep breath and released it slowly before saying, "I got to know Snape better after the holidays. Really know him. And... I like him." What an innocent word to use, but it was the truth. Or at least a part of the truth.

"What?" Feeling heat rise to his face, Ron jumped to his feet. "How the hell can you like him? He's an evil, nasty, greasy evil man! He's spent years torturing us! Giving his stupid Slytherins points and taking out ours with no reason! He's disgusting! And evil!"

It would have been quite amusing to listen to Ron splutter if Harry just liked the man. The words made him angry, not only because they were partly true, but because he couldn't believe in them anymore. "You sound like Sirius there." Realizing his voice betrayed his anger, he took a deep breath. "I know. But I still like him."

Ron couldn't believe what he was hearing. He'd noticed Harry and Snape weren't exactly trying to tear each other apart with sarcasm anymore, but this was just ridiculous.

Trying to calm down, he managed to ask, "Why?" Could there be any reason for anyone to like Snape?

There was nothing Harry could really say. He could list plenty of reasons. Snape was smart, he had an evil sense of humor he rather liked. He was loyal, but not blind, and honest to the point of outright cruelty. There was something calming in his presence, a shared understanding of how it was to be labeled by the public. For a nasty Potions master, Snape could be surprisingly gentle in his own way.

It had taken him some time to realize it, but now Harry could clearly see that Snape must not completely loathe him anymore either. Ever since he'd first gone to see him, he had tolerated his presence. Now it was more like quiet companionship. It almost made him light headed, knowing that Snape wasn't doing any of it because he was the great Harry Potter.

That nonexisting hero had been scorned and then tolerated.

He was treated like a person.

None of that would make sense to Ron, he knew. Especially since Ron had never been where he had been for so many years; locked in loneliness and then showered with mindless adoration. Even if he could make his friend see all his reasons, he couldn't tell him everything he knew and felt about Snape. It would feel like betrayal.

"I just do. He's..." He searched for the words, dismissing such as 'a good man' and the good old 'not that bad' immediately. "He's different outside the class. I can't explain it, but I like him anyway."

Ron shook his head. "You're barmy." There was nothing different about Snape. He was a cruel man who didn't seem to care about anything but his stupid potions.

Shrugging, Harry stood up. "Probably." The grin he flashed at Ron wasn't even forced. He'd known the whole conversation was pointless.

"But..." Now Ron was completely lost. Was Harry joking? The glint in his eyes seemed to suggest that he found this whole thing funny. It was definitely not a sentiment he could share. He stared at his friend, not knowing what to say.

It was clear their conversation wasn't going anywhere. Harry said, "Don't worry about it. Let's go and have some breakfast."

He ignored Ron's suspicious looks and headed downstairs. It was weird, but he felt better after their little talk. Probably because of how he'd been forced to remember just why exactly he'd stopped hating Snape in the first place.

Breakfast was already served as they arrived. Harry smiled briefly at Snape before concentrating on his food. He was determined not to do anything stupid right now. Opening his mouth before he could have time to think about what was going on would definitely be seen as idiotic.

Ron on the other hand kept glaring at both Malfoy and Snape. He had no idea what was going on with Harry, but he for one was not going to start liking Slytherins. Especially the blond one. There had been a moment when he'd been almost relieved when Harry had said he'd sneaked out with Snape instead of Malfoy. It would have been a disaster, Harry being friendly with that git.

There were lots of things he was willing to face. That was not one of those things.

The day was very much like the previous ones; filled with moments of revelation and utter panic as the three students went through various books, scrolls and notepads. The living room was a complete mess of parchment scrolls and books littering every available surface. No one wanted to fail the exam. Snape would surely make their lives hell if they did, humiliating them with snide comments about lack of brains.

Turning the page, Harry lifted his gaze up from the book for a moment to look at Snape. Yes. There would be biting sarcasm if they didn't pass. None of them would be spared, not even him. He wouldn't expect to be.

He smiled a little before continuing reading. It was weird to think of Snape right now. Not because he was feeling uncomfortable around him, quite the opposite actually. Crushes had always made him all squirmy and awkward. Lust had always been simple. This was different.

Friendship, or as close to friendship Snape would ever allow them to get. Companionship. Harry felt peaceful with him, even though there were moments when he wanted to yell at him, mainly when they were arguing about something.

He didn't want to change that now. He needed the peace and quiet. It wouldn't be that difficult to ignore this whole thing and concentrate on what was familiar to him.

Right now that meant reading through his notes once again.

On the other side of the room, Draco was hunched over a huge volume, looking like he was enthralled by the text. He wasn't paying attention to the ancient potions recepies, his thoughts spinning in circles.

There had been that strange expression on Potter's face again; the smile that held no dark emotions in it, and it was aimed at Snape. He couldn't tell himself he was imagining things anymore, he'd seen that expression too often now. It was probable that Snape was aware of it too. Nothing usually escaped his attention. Yet, there were no cruel words or retributions.

It was curious. Draco couldn't decide which was more shocking, Potter's obvious relaxation near Snape or seeing Snape allow such coziness. If it was anyone other than those two, he would call this mellowness between them with a phrase he'd known since his early teens. All the looks and almost friendly banter were only strengthening his conviction that this was indeed a familiar game he was watching.

With Potter and Snape, he was going to have to find another definition. He wasn't certain he'd find one. It didn't really matter. His contemplations wouldn't change anything.

Noticing how Weasley bristled in the corner, Draco had to hide a grin. Well now. Maybe this did change things. He was not stupid enough to go discussing his professor's behavior with a Gryffindor, but he would indeed drop hints and suggestions when he had the chance to be alone with Weasley.

After all, when the exams were over, he'd have nothing better to do. Taunting Weasley was always his preferred sport.

Lunch was a welcome break from all the studying, a brief interlude, followed by more reading. In a way it was easier for everyone to concentrate on the books after lunch, for Snape retired to his room. It somehow lessened the tension but at the same time, it reminded everyone of tomorrow's ordeal. Snape was probably getting everything ready, or maybe he was grading their essays. Neither sounded very calming

Knowing that this was the last time they'd ever have to study Potions helped. At least it made Ron and Harry feel a lot better.

Harry grabbed yet another scroll, sighing as he read the header. Of course. He'd completely forgotten about protective charms and clothing. They hardly ever brewed anything really dangerous in class. It would be so like Snape to have them do that now.

Maybe Snape had been right. He hated all these little details, wishing they'd just be given a Potion to brew with detailed instructions. That would not be easy, but he was certain he could manage. Having to remember all the ways to protect people and things, the ways to cut ingredients, the ways to keep up the fire under the cauldron and then adding ingredients and stirring the potion was making his head spin.

He wished they could have had N.E.W.T.s on flying. At least then he could have excelled in something.

By dinnertime, he was completely dizzy. He knew he'd have to read more before going to bed, but was seriously afraid that it would make his head explode.

All he needed was to be able to remember this until tomorrow. Then he could happily forget everything he'd ever read about ladles and ingredients. In a way it felt stupid. Was there any point of studying for years just to pass a damn exam? It wasn't like he was going to need all this knowledge. He could manage to brew simple potions -- like the one to cure boils -- on his own but if he needed anything more complicated, he'd just buy it.

He knew by now that he would never be a Potions master, so all this reading felt utterly senseless.

Eppy had obviously been offended by their invasion in her kitchen. It had sparked some kind of a professional grudge in her. The dinner was excellent, a far cry from the usual tasty but simple food.

It was very nice. Harry kept munching happily, trying not to laugh at the small house elf standing by the door and looking smug.

He would definitely have fun describing her to Hermione.

Enjoying the meal was a good way to relax. Harry wondered if he could indeed go back to the books again. Maybe he should just go to bed early and hope a good night's sleep would clear his thoughts. He knew for a fact that he would need his wits tomorrow.

"All right, gentlemen."

It didn't matter that Snape had spoken quietly. Harry startled, wincing a moment later as Ron dropped his fork on the plate. Taking a deep breath, he looked up at Snape. "Yes?"

"We will start the exam tomorrow morning at ten. You'll need your books with you, and you should bring your wands as well, even though you will not be allowed to keep them most of the time while you work." Snape had seen some very bizarre attempts to cheat during his career and was determined to have everyone's wand where he could see them. "After you receive your results we can decide on what to do next."

He didn't even have to look at Harry. They both knew what would happen. The simple days of studying for the exam would be over, replaced by real work with training for the war.

Harry sighed. Considering what they would most likely face when they went back home, it was not hard to guess what they'd be working on from now on. It almost made him wish they could continue working on Potions. He hated them, but at least they never made him feel empty inside.

"Yes, sir." It was good that someone had a plan. Draco had no idea what would happen after this. His life was in professor Snape's hands for a a little longer, until he reached his eighteenth birthday. After that, he would have to work something out.

The others seemed to be focusing on the fight against the Dark Lord and his people. He wasn't certain he wanted to be a part of that, knowing the power they wielded. Fighting would be stupid, they'd probably all get killed.

Then again, it was probable he would get killed anyway. He knew his father, knew that after his deception he would never stop trying to find him. There was no place on this earth where he could hide from Lucius Malfoy's wrath.

He'd go with the flow. Finish studying for the easiest of N.E.W.T.s and then concentrate on this side of the war.

"We have lots of things to figure out." None of the things Harry really wanted to talk about. But the world had never cared about what he wanted. "I think it's best to deal with them here." He looked at Snape for the first time. The shared understanding of all the things they'd have to go through was almost overwhelming.

It made Harry drop his gaze after a few seconds.

"As long as I never have to do laundry again, everything's all right," Ron muttered, casting an angry look at Malfoy. He didn't know exactly what the others were planning, but he was definitely going to refuse if it had anything to do with him working together with the git again.

Instead of ignoring the glare, Malfoy sneered, "Well if you hadn't gone off wandering around the place, you wouldn't have been bitten."

That made Ron almost growl and he half rose from his chair. The sound of someone clearing his throat made him sit down again, the reaction immediate. It didn't matter what Harry said about Snape. He was not going to mistake of thinking he was friendly.

"I believe we all understand by now why no one should wander off alone." Snape's voice was slightly amused. After all, it had taken an almost lethal snake bite for some of them to learn the lesson.

Ron bristled at the words, but didn't say a thing.

"The wards will not be able to hold out every danger. We don't really know where we are, so there could be poisonous plants around here. Bathing can be dangerous if there are magical creatures in the water." It didn't really sound plausible in Snape's own ears, but then again with the dark creatures being imported to Britain -- and he knew for certain they hadn't left the island -- anything was possible. "Then there could be unfriendly Muggles around, so no hiking to the hills..."

A cough escaped Harry. Meeting the black gaze calmly, he added, "No gathering potions ingredients all alone in the middle of the night." Whatever else had happened last night, this was the most important thing.

Snape had known he'd make a comment about that. He glared, but didn't think he could say anything. It was the truth; he'd gone against the rules he'd set himself.

This was not the right moment for this conversation. They needed to concentrate on the exam first, then work on the rest. Snape knew that but had still allowed the peace and quiet to carry him away. His face hardened at the thought and he opened his mouth to change the subject back to tomorrow's exam.

Fearing that Harry's comment would lead into some kind of a retribution from Snape, Ron blurted out, "So... What do we do if we see Muggles out there?" He thought for a moment, realizing that wayward Muggles would probably be the least of their problems. "And what about Death Eaters? What are we supposed to do if they come after us?"

They were hiding, but Snape had said a couple of times that no place was completely safe. There was no way that Voldemort would get to know where they were, since the only one with that knowledge was Dumbledore. That didn't meant his people couldn't get lucky and stumble into the small cottage while on a raid.

There was an uncomfortable silence. Snape glanced at Harry, not at all surprised to see the understanding on the young man's face. Harry didn't seem to have any illusions about their situation. He turned to glance at Draco, who looked slightly baffled.

Changing the subject was impossible now. For once, these two young ones actually wanted to know what he and Harry already knew. They had not asked about things once since coming here, a willfull blindness Snape would have attributed on Gryffindors if Draco's silence hadn't been so painfully obvious. He couldn't ignore this.

Sighing, Snape said, "If we see any Muggles, we act casually. No magic, no panicking." That much should be obvious. He wasn't sure just exactly how casually three pureblood wizards could act around Muggles, but they would have to try.

It would probably be a disaster.

"In case we meet Death Eaters... The best option is always to run as fast as you can. Otherwise, you'll end up fighting for your lives."

"I think Voldemort would want at least Potter alive." Draco almost managed to make that sound casual. "They'll probably try to kill the rest of us, though."

Harry agreed on that. "Yes. I bet some of them don't acknowledge any charms or curses but the Unforgivables. They'll probably concentrate on the death curse without even thinking about it."

Black robed, masked figures handing out pain and death. The ultimate terror.

"But... What if we can't run? We can't really Apparate, because we have no idea where we are." Ron had heard Charlie tell about some of his colleagues who'd tried to Apparate blindly in Romania after an encounter with a vicious Longhorn. There was no way he wanted to end up like those two.

None of the four men realized just exactly how deep a silence had followed Ron's words.

"If we can not run, we'll have to fight," Harry said quietly. He knew that was what he'd probably have to do even if he could run, at least if the others were still in danger.

Something told him he'd probably end up standing side by side with Snape, hurling curses at Death Eaters.

"The simple charms or curses won't probably work. Don't even bother with disarming charms or stupefying. If Voldemort's people start something... Well, two words work every time." It still horrified Harry to speak so easily of the curse that had killed his parents. It had disgusted him to actually use it, but he was well aware that a time would come when it would be the only way, and they all needed to know that.

Ron could only stare at his best friend; the person he'd known for almost seven years, who had always seemed to abhor violence. "What? You can't mean that we should..."

"Kill them. Yes. I believe that's exactly what he meant." Snape cut through the babble. "If it ever comes to deciding between you and them, you'll do whatever you need to survive."

It had been something Draco had thought a lot about in his lonely room. There would come a time when he would have to fight against people he'd known for all his life. People he'd called friends. Family.

He wondered how Snape had been able to survive his encounter with Greg's dad. Not because the older Goyle had been any smarter than his son was, but because there was a certain bond between housemates.

If it ever came to deciding if he should take the life of someone that close to him, Draco feared he might hesitate. It would be the end. His opposites wouldn't stop, wouldn't think about loyalty. They would simply kill him. It didn't matter who he was then.

He'd made his choice; not to be like them, not to be like his father. He would never be a Death Eater, and he didn't want to die. So he'd better try his best to fight them. "Yes, sir."

Ron wasn't as easily convinced. "You really mean we should try to kill people?" It went against everything he'd been taught at Hogwarts. It was against the way his parents had raised him.

"Yes I do." The way the boy was obviously shocked by the mere thought both pleased and annoyed Snape. "If it means saving your own lives, then yes. You should kill them."

"Well it's easy for you to say!" Somehow the words escaped Ron before he could stop them. Instead of taking them back, he cast a sideways glance at Malfoy as if to add him to his comment, and then looked down.

Snape felt a surge of rage rush through him. This arrogant child didn't really understand anything. The accusation was so familiar, even though it was usually better veiled. He'd once been an idiot, doing stupid things that had led him into the murky world of dark magic. It seemed it had stained him for life, making everyone not only label him so simply, but also feel like it was their prerogative to fling comments at him like this.

"No, Ron."

Even Draco turned to stare at him. Was he really defending Snape?

Green eyes full of pain, Harry looked at Ron. This was the part of their reality he'd wanted to keep from his friends, the reason he'd insisted on excluding Ron and Hermione from the secret meetings and the inner circle of the Order.

He wished they'd never started this conversation. He'd gladly concentrate on Potions if he could forget all about this topic.

"The only people who truly enjoy using that curse are standing by Voldemort." Remembering tales of horror, he swallowed and added, "And maybe some of the old school Aurors as well."

There were always sick people fighting in all the wars. On both sides.

"It's not easy for him, and it's certainly not easy for me. So don't make comments about a thing you know nothing about." No anger. Only a memory of a terrible guilt.

It took Ron a few seconds to comprehend just exactly what Harry was trying to say. Then he went completely cold. "There is a difference between you and him." He didn't even try to hide the contempt in his voice. "He has killed people." Probably more than just Goyle's father.

Harry nodded. "So have I."

His words made both Ron and Draco gawk. Both had identical expressions of shock on their faces as they just stared at him.

The silence was suffocating. Harry didn't look at Snape, not wanting to see the look in the dark eyes. There would be no horror there, for Snape already knew what he was talking about. Not only because of the long hours spent in the dungeons when he'd tried to escape the memories that had haunted him every time he closed his eyes. They all knew; Snape, Dumbledore, McGonagall, Figg, Fletcher, Sirius and Remus. And at least one man outside the Order's inner circle. Bill Weasley.

He sometimes wondered if Mrs. Weasley knew as well. They had never talked about that night, but sometimes there was a look of sorrow on her face when she thought he wasn't paying attention.

Ron was trying desperately to think of what to say. He knew Harry had blamed himself for Cedric's death for a long time, but he'd thought his friend had got over the guilt. Then a thought hit him. Of course. "You didn't really kill him. Quirrel died because he was evil." Having a protective charm in your very being wasn't killing.

"Ron... I'm not talking about Quirrel." Pre-empting the next words, Harry forced himself to say, "And I'm not talking about the Triwizard contest either."

It was strange. Watching professor Quirrel die right before his eyes, the touch of his skin destroying the man, had not haunted his nightmares for long. Unlike Cedric's death. There had been nights, when he'd thought he'd lose his mind completely thinking about him. He had been innocent, not a part of the fight. He shouldn't have been there, shouldn't have died like that.

Snape didn't make a move, silently watching the three young men. He'd thought they would start talking about the war after the final exam, giving the three some time to focus solely on the Potions. The conversation that had started as one of the endless fights between Weasley and Malfoy had felt like a good opportunity to begin the dialogue with the youngsters.

He'd never thought it would come to this.

Seeing the determination on Harry's face, he stayed silent, simply observing. He knew what had happened a few years ago, had known since the first meetings they'd had with their small group. Had heard more details this spring. Even though he knew it was painful to Harry, he suspected it would be even more painful for Weasley to hear.

"Remember the night when we celebrated Bill's promotion?" Harry asked. He was sure Ron would remember it. The way all the Weasleys and Harry had gathered in the Burrow to honor Bill's new status as the Assistant Deputy Head of the Cursebreaking Department of Gringotts. It had been a wonderful evening, full of laughter and good food.

Until the Death Eaters came.

Ron nodded at that. Of course he remembered. "Sure. You were staying with us for the whole July, because..." He didn't think he should say anything about Harry's relatives. It would just give more ammunition to Snape and Malfoy. "Well, you know."

"Yes. We had the party, and then there were suddenly Death Eaters all over the place." Such a simple way to describe the utter panic. Everyone reaching for their wands, trying to protect their loved ones and fight at the same time.

"I remember mum yelling at Percy to get Ginny away from there." Her words had actually included both younger children, but Ron was not about to say that in front of Malfoy. "Then he and Penny grabbed Ginny and me and we Apparated."

They had left the chaos behind, but the fear had remained. It had been a horrible night. First waiting for the others to join them; then the terror when his mum, Bill and Harry had stayed behind.

Harry didn't want to do this. Not now, not ever. But he had to. "You know how they said that the attack was aimed at Bill, and that the Death Eaters didn't even know I was there at the time? That was true. They wanted to blackmail Gringotts." He sighed. "But when they realized they couldn't grab him easily, they tried to kill him."

Nausea swept over Ron. It was nothing he hadn't already guessed, but it still made him feel like he was about to vomit. He almost wished Malfoy would say something nasty so that he could bury his terror into rage once again, but the git was just sitting there, not saying anything.

"I kinda figured that out myself." No, he was definitely not thinking about the way Bill had shivered for hours, his strong and brave big brother suddenly looking like a stranger.

"I thought you would. But... We had to fight them. Your mum distracted them long enough for us to... Well, it doesn't really matter. The point is, they wouldn't stop. I threw every curse I knew at them. So did Bill. He knew stuff I'd never even heard of, but in the end there was just one thing that stopped them."

Ron stared. He couldn't believe what he was hearing. Maybe he was hearing wrong. "But... But... The Aurors came. They... They killed the Death Eaters, didn't they?"

"Yes." No emotion in Harry's voice. "They did kill some of them. And so did I."

It had been the hardest thing he'd ever done; to raise his wand, thinking about the words. In the end, they had come out easily, for he'd seen that nothing else would work. He'd had a choice; to kill or to watch Bill Weasley die.

Put that way, there hadn't been much of a choice, really.

Night terrors and awful guilt over the rush of magic that had surged through him that night could not make him regret that decision. Neither could the way Ron was slowly shaking his head right now.

He didn't know why this was so damn hard. It had been painful to talk about it with the others in the Order, but it had been a walk through the Quidditch pitch compared to this.

Ron tried to say something. No sound came out. He could only stare. It made no sense. Harry was his friend. He would have told him. There was no way he would have killed someone like that. Like he actually meant it.

He had never thought about the war like that. It felt foolish now, even after over a year of Order meetings, but somehow it had all felt like a game. They went through meetings where they talked about strategy and healing and protecting and gathering their forces. There had never been real talk about killing. The special DADA courses had been about recognizing dark powers and running away from them or hiding.

Killing had been something that only the Death Eaters did. Even then it was called murder. Slaughter. Defending yourself was all about life.

They really thought this would come to killing? Ron had always had a vague idea of Harry ending up destroying Voldemort, but he'd always thought the Aurors would come to deal with the actual war. He had been aware of the fact that there would be fighting, but he'd never known just exactly what it would mean.

Harry had killed someone? He didn't know which made him feel worse; the fact that his best friend had killed, or that he'd never told him.

Seeing the dozens of questions in Ron's eyes, Harry swallowed. He didn't want to do this right now. "I know this comes as a shock, but can we... Can we not do this now? Please?"

His friend wouldn't simply listen to him talk, like Snape had. He'd ask questions, not probably understanding half of his answers simply because he had never faced such a situation. Harry knew he would eventually have to do this, with Ron and Hermione. Probably others as well. But not now.

"An excellent suggestion, Potter." Snape nodded.

Flinching out of his shock, Ron turned his gaze away from Harry. "Huh?" He wasn't sure he'd heard right. He wasn't sure about anything anymore.

Snape placed his empty cup on the table and reached for the teapot again. "So, we all agree to be careful out there. Still, we should discuss more about the dangers, after the exam. Gentlemen, you should go and refresh your memory of ingredients. I doubt any of you has had the brains to look into your Herbology books."

That made Harry get to his feet. He didn't even bother to mutter excuses before rushing upstairs.

As Ron stood up as if to follow him, Snape added, "Mr. Weasley. I will not postpone the exam because of Gryffindor emotionalism. I'd suggest you spend the rest of the evening studying and allow others to do so as well." His glare spoke volumes. "Now sit down and finish your meal."

It made Ron seethe with anger, but he did sit back down. After what Harry had just told him, how could he concentrate in Potions?

Merlin! Snape was such an unfeeling bastard.

How could Harry say he liked this man? This uncaring cold creep, who was now sitting there and sipping his tea calmly as if nothing had just happened. It made Ron bristle with anger, but Snape's icy glare kept him sitting at his place. He wanted nothing more than to go to Harry and talk to him; ask him about how he felt and try to help him somehow, if he could.

Stupid Snape! Damn him to the lowest of hells.

Ignoring Ron's murderous stare, Snape finished with his tea. He didn't hurry. It was best if he gave Harry some time alone.

The tension in the small dining area was tangible. He was actually surprised that Weasley could hold his tongue. Young Malfoy was of course concentrating on his cutlery, avoiding eye contact with anyone. He'd always been an intelligent boy.

Finally, Snape pushed his chair back. He didn't say anything, simply got up and walked out of the room, leaving the two youngsters to clean up the mess. He had more important things to do than to coddle young people who could perfectly well deal with themselves. If Weasley chose this moment to fight with Malfoy, he was welcome to. Snape simply didn't care.

Instead of following his initial plan and going to his room, he walked slowly up the stairs. Most of the portraits on the wall were staring at him with curiosity plain on their faces, some even tried to greet him. After all, they'd only seen him once before, when their sleepy peace had been disturbed by the arrival of four strangers.

Not paying any attention to the cheerful greetings, he moved on, not stopping until he reached upstairs. Casting a curious look around, he tried to think of which of the three doors would lead to the right room. Selecting one, he rapped his knuckles on the door. He didn't have to wait for long.

The door opened slowly, the hinges making a creaking sound.

There was a bland expression of indifference on Harry's face, melting into a tired grimace as he saw Snape. He didn't have to pretend now, didn't have to show a brave front. "Hi."

Snape nodded slightly. "I came to see if you needed anything." His words were curt, but he did feel a twinge of genuine concern inside.

"I... I don't know." There were dozens of things Harry needed right now. Needed to stop remembering, needed silence, but definitely didn't need to be alone. Didn't need any questions or compassion. Smiling wryly, he said, "I just need some sleep, I guess. I don't feel like reading anymore."

Words would simply dance on the paper, none of them making any sense. Last minute reading would be completely useless.

Snape pulled a small vial from a pocket inside his robes and offered it to Harry. He knew Harry didn't like taking potions usually, but this was a special occasion. Even if he didn't take it, he felt like he should offer it; the only kind of peace he could give Harry right now. "Maybe this will help."

"Thanks." Not bothering to even pretend he wasn't grateful, Harry took the vial. His fingers curled over the glass, his hand tingling with the warmth emanating from it.

There were no other words, no explanations. No polite inquiries or small talk. Snape thought about the children he'd left downstairs, knowing that Weasley was probably all anxious to come and see his friend again. Maybe Harry would indeed take the potion, just to avoid all the questions. He didn't blame the boy, for he had been there too; unable to handle his surroundings, too exhausted to fall asleep on his own. There had been lots of nights when the Draught of the Living Death had been the only thing that had kept him sane.

"Good night, Potter." Casting one last look at him, Snape turned around. He'd done what he'd come here for.

Harry held the vial tighter, his expression becoming brittle. He was glad Snape wasn't looking at him anymore. "Good night, Snape." He couldn't really take this kind of consideration right now, not after trying to act normally with the man all day long.

Not turning back to look at Harry, Snape walked down the stairs.

Ron had been pacing in the hallway, almost growling with anger. He'd left Malfoy to help Eppy clean up the dishes, fearing he'd punch Malfoy's face if he stayed with him for a moment longer.

What was Snape doing upstairs anyway? It was his place to go to Harry, not Snape's! Things like friendship and comfort were definitely not a part of that git.

When Snape finally came downstairs, Ron rushed up, his mind a whirlwind of questions. He didn't care that they had the exam in the morning. This was more important than anything. He wanted to be there for Harry.

Soft, even sound of breathing greeted him as he yanked the door to their room open. He stood at the doorway, completely stunned. Harry was lying in his bed, still clothed, fully asleep. On the small table next to the bed lay a small vial.

"Bloody hell..."

Snape had given him sleeping potion? Ron swore again. Damn the man! How could he do that? How could Harry just take such potion? It was clear he had taken the thing just a moment ago, when he'd known he was already on his way up here.

He wanted to grab the small vial from the table and throw it at the wall as hard as he could. He wanted to scream and shout, but of course that would do no good, since nothing would wake Harry up now. He'd probably sleep till the morning. At least he'd be well rested to face the exam.

It didn't make Ron feel any better. He was fuming.

After standing there for a moment, trying to figure out what to do next, he sighed. There was absolutely no way he was going to go downstairs for his books. Seeing either Snape or Malfoy might drive him into doing something violent. Maybe he'd better go to bed too and try to fall sleep.

Yeah right. As if that was going to happen after all that he'd just heard.

There were things he needed to do first. Casting worried glances at Harry every once in a while, he walked across the room to get clean pajamas. He laid them on his bed to be ready for him when he came from the outhouse.

Making sure his footsteps weren't overly loud, he sneaked back downstairs, heading to the door without even bothering to put on his heavy robes.

He was only going to the outhouse. He could manage like this.

As he stepped outside, a cold breeze hit him, almost making him turn around and go back inside for his thicker robes. He ignored the icy feeling and hurried to the outhouse. The sooner he went on with the business, the sooner he'd get to bed.

Ron reached out with his hand to grab the wooden handle to the door and then recoiled back as someone exited the outhouse. He glared angrily as he saw the blond. This was just great! The perfectly fucked up ending to an already fucked up day.

"Oh." Not even bothering to say he was sorry -- which he wasn't -- Draco stepped to his left. He didn't want to aggravate Weasley right now, not after what Potter had told them all. He was still a bit dazed about the whole thing; the goody-goody Gryffindor actually killing someone? He was amazed the Ministry hadn't had him arrested.

But of course they wouldn't arrest Harry Potter.

Moving to the side, Ron glared as Malfoy got into his way again. It wasn't amusing, the git always doing everything he could to annoy him. "Fuck off, Malfoy." It came out without any thought, like it was the only phrase Ron was familiar with and therefore usable in any situation.

That was really too much. The grey gaze was firmly fixed in blue as Draco refused to budge. He could feel the heat coming from Ron's body, realizing that in just a moment this would get ugly. There was a certain line that couldn't be crossed without violence ensuing. This was it.

Whatever had happened tonight didn't matter. They could have spent the whole evening in peace and it wouldn't have changed Weasley's behavior.

Always there to pick a fight. This time he'd get what he was asking for.

Letting the anger flush over him, Draco reveled in the warmth that filled him. He'd warned the weasel. Had walked away every time he'd sought for a fight. No more. Weasley would get what he deserved, for he couldn't resist the need inside him anymore, the urge to just grab the annoying redhead and smash his...

Draco recoiled as he realized his desire was not to smash Weasley's face against a tree and then laugh at his bloodied nose. Eyes wide, he stared at Ron.

How on earth had he never thought of this before? After all, he'd once considered this with Potter, when he'd still thought about ways to hurt him or to bring him to the Dark Lord's side. Watching the strange bonding between Snape and Potter was a bit annoying right now, as if his professor was now succeeding in something he had failed earlier.

There was no need or desire in him to seduce Harry Potter, not anymore. He wasn't certain what good such a game would do with Weasley either. It would however make him feel a lot better. That was certain.

It would probably freak Weasley out. Completely. That would be better than simply bruising his knuckles on his chin.

"So you gonna run after all? I should have known," Ron taunted with malevolent glee in his voice. Seeing Malfoy try to back off made him feel better than anything.

Instead of turning around and walking away, Draco raised an eyebrow. "I'm not going to run, Weasel, and you know it. Actually, you don't want me to run." He'd really been blind with this. This was exactly the way he should have approached this problem from the beginning.

Ron's mouth fell open, as Malfoy moved closer, his body brushing against his. There was something disturbingly alien in Malfoy right that moment. Something he'd never seen before. It made him blush, and he felt shivers go down his spine.

"Oh yes. You want something from me all right." Moving even closer to Ron, Draco smiled evilly as Ron backed away, only to be halted by a thick tree trunk. "But it's not a fight. You don't want to hit me. Or me to hit you."

"What the hell are you doing?" It was supposed to come out as an angry growl, but Ron could only manage a pitiful yelp.

Chest against Weasley's, face only inches away from his, Draco could feel his breath catch. Yes, this was so much better than idle threats. He stepped closer, sliding his thigh between Weasley's. "You know what I'm doing. The same thing we've been doing for a while now. It's simple, See?"

This time Ron didn't have time to try to reply before Malfoy's mouth closed over his in a savage kiss. There was nothing sweet or romantic in it. Only burning passion and lust.

Hatred! His hands squeezing on Malfoy's arms, Ron tried to keep his body from responding. This wasn't need or want, this was anger! And hatred! And... Damn, Malfoy's hands felt good on his arse! But it was still so damn wrong.

Wrong!

"Bastard!" The word was growled between kisses. Ron could feel from the slight shaking that Malfoy was laughing at him. That was even worse than the kissing. Always laughing at him. It made the anger burn even hotter.

With a shove, Ron freed himself of the disgusting Slytherin. He stood there panting, wanting to smash the grin out of his face. Just grab him and... His hands were moving before his brain could catch up with the whole idea, and then he was pushing Malfoy against that same tree. He tried to keep focus on the violent thoughts swimming in his mind, but somehow there didn't seem to be any strength in his fists.

He was simply pinning Malfoy against the tree. Holding him there. Feeling the hardness of his body against his own. Malfoy didn't seem to mind at all, the slight wriggling definitely ineffective if it was meant to be a struggle to get free.

"See?"

Hot breath caressed Ron's ear as Malfoy leaned closer to whisper. He shivered at the ghost of a touch.

"You don't want to hit me. You just want me." No sound of laughter in Draco's voice now. He acknowledged it to be true for him as well. Angry tension, sexual tension. So close to one another, he couldn't even begin to separate them.

However, he could think of worse things than to spend an evening naked and sweating with Weasley.

"No!" Ron yelled. He didn't want Malfoy. Did not! He could see from the gleam in the grey eyes that the git was about to kiss him again, and he let go, stepping back.

There was nothing he could really say. Words refused to come out, his mind blank. He couldn't think beyond the fact that Draco Malfoy, the most annoying Slytherin ever, had just kissed him, twice. And his body wasn't exactly screaming in horror as his mind was.

With something disgustingly like a sob, he turned around, running away as fast as he could.

Only the sound of Malfoy gasping for breath followed him. There was no laughter, no taunts thrown at his back. Nothing to indicate it had been just a cruel joke.

Ron had no idea why that bothered him the most.

---

Part 12

Sitting on his bed, Ron kept staring into the darkness. He tried to keep his mind completely blank. Tried to block out everything.

There were sounds in the room; the soft sound of Harry breathing, the shutters moving slightly in the wind. At least there was nothing to see. He didn't know if that was a good thing or not. Maybe if he could concentrate on something outside his chaotic thoughts, it would be easier.

Ron raised his wand again, aiming a simple cleaning charm at his mouth. The tingle made his skin crawl and his teeth felt weird, as if they were made out of rubber. It was probably not wise to overuse the charm like this, but he had to get rid of the strange taste in his mouth.

He tried not to think about what it was.

After all the charms he'd cast, he wasn't even sure the taste was real. It was probably more a memory. Familiar taste of tea mixed with the unique taste of Malfoy's... No! He was not going to think about that.

Closing his eyes, Ron tried to focus on something -- anything -- else. The sounds in the room, the way his sheets felt cool against his skin. The faint spicy scent in the room.

Malfoy's breath coming in harsh pants as he shoved him against the tree. Hardness grinding against him, his own body responding even as his mind was screaming in disgust. The overpowering scent of heather lingering around them until the warm scent of Malfoy drove it away.

Ron gagged. The memories were too sharp, too clear. He wondered if he should try the charm again, even though it would probably not change anything.

No matter what he tried, the taste still lingered. Draco Malfoy's mouth on his. The thought made him want to throw up.

What the hell was that about anyway? He did not want the git, had never even thought about him like that. Or any other man like that. Even if he had thought of trying other men -- which he honestly had not! -- he would never, ever think about doing anything with Malfoy.

It was disgusting! Sick and twisted and perverted. How could Malfoy ever think that he would be interested?

And why the hell had his body reacted? It was like his mind had been cut off from the rest of him. Warmth against him, a strong hard body rubbing against him, and suddenly he was excited? Because of Malfoy? It felt like a betrayal, and he wanted to punch someone.

There was only one person here he could hit, one person he wanted to hit. He'd never felt like this before; his whole being thrumming with the need to hurt Malfoy and drown all these disgusting memories under a storm of violence. A bloodied nose might make the git think twice before trying his games on him again.

Yeah, it was just a game, a way to embarrass him. Nothing more. Malfoy hadn't exactly wanted him, it was all a show, to make him back off and think he was going insane. Ron was certain of that. It didn't matter that they had actually kissed -- no, Malfoy had kissed him -- or that Malfoy had been hard. It proved nothing of genuine lust or want.

Even if it did, he wasn't interested. He wouldn't shag Malfoy even if he was the last person in the world. He had standards, and they excluded stupid and evil Slytherins. How could anyone find that git attractive?

Unable to banish the smirk from his mind, Ron got to his feet. This had to stop! He didn't want to spend the whole night thinking about Malfoy. He needed to sleep or tomorrow would be a total disaster.

But how could he sleep when his mind was filled with this confusion?

There was a way; a small vial on Harry's nightstand. Ron walked across the room slowly, reluctant to grab the potion vial, He knew it was safe and it would work but he wanted nothing to do with Snape's potions.

Anything would be better than seeing Malfoy's face every time he closed his eyes or living the kiss over and over again in his mind. Taking the sludge brewn by the disgusting Slytherin Potions master was a much better option.

Ron grabbed the vial, swirling the small amount of liquid around. There was roughly half the potion left. Trying not to think about anything, he scrambled back to his bed and then emptied the vial.

He was barely able to put it on the table next to his bed before he drifted off to sleep.

There were no dreams that night. Only the darkness and the silence of sleep. It was so calming, Ron felt actually happy and rested for a few moments after waking up. Then the reality hit him again. The exam. Harry killing people.

The kiss.

Groaning, he jolted up. He could feel his heart pounding in his chest as he looked around the empty room. Harry had already left, his bed uncharacteristically neat, and Ron was glad of his absence.

He was sure his friend would be able to tell what had happened if he saw his beet red face. It didn't matter that Harry was not a mind reader. Somehow he would know.

Ron didn't even stop to examine his crazy thoughts. His mind was already galloping on, looking for other embarrassing scenarios. Like Harry sitting at the breakfast table, listening to Malfoy make comments about what had happened last night.

It would be so like Malfoy to make fun of him like that. Twist the whole thing so that it would sound as if he'd wanted it.

Trying not to listen to his own mind, Ron pulled on his clothes, for once not cheery and glad to be awake. He wasn't sure where he really wanted to go, downstairs for breakfast to make sure that Malfoy wasn't ruining everything, or just downstairs, out the door and maybe drown himself in the stream.

The latter did sound kind of tempting.

He shook his head, feeling disgusted by his own thoughts. Malfoy was just playing a game and he had to make sure he lost. Panicking like this meant he'd win, so he had to stop that right now.

Slamming the door shut harder than necessary, he strolled to the stairs. He was not going to act like something was wrong, even though everything kind of was. Harry would notice. There would be questions he didn't want to answer.

For the first time he understood why Harry had taken that damn potion last night. Talking about things would be too painful sometimes. Almost as painful as thinking about them.

Ron headed to the kitchen area, following the sound of utensils clinking against porcelain. A silence greeted him as he entered the room.

Muttering, "Morning," he took his usual place next to Harry. He sensed a tension in his friend and flashed a small uncomfortable smile at him. No, he was definitely not going to start talking about anything serious here. Not while he was still so damn pissed and confused.

Not a word was said as he grabbed some breakfast and ate.

It had been like this for ages; Ron had felt really uncomfortable with the four of them gathering together ever since they came here. Mostly because of the two Slytherins. Now he was at a loss of what to say to anyone. He wasn't really mad at Harry but he had no idea how to talk to him, especially since Harry so obviously didn't want to talk about anything.

There was nothing new with that. Harry had been like that for months, keeping secrets from him and Hermione. He kind of understood it now. Didn't mean he approved, but he did understand.

Pausing with the chewing, he looked up from his plate and flashed Harry a hesitant smile. The hesitation disappeared as he saw the answering smile that seemed to make Harry relax completely.

A part of the worry was gone now. Ron could deal with all the crap if he didn't have to wonder about their friendship as well.

So now all he had to worry about was Malfoy and the Potions exam. That made him startle a bit. Wait a minute! Eyes squinting slightly, he turned his attention to the blond Slytherin.

Watching Malfoy munch his breakfast calmly made Ron even more suspicious. He suddenly wondered if the completely mindless panic had been exactly what Malfoy had aimed at. It would be so like the git to do everything in his power to make him fail the Potions exam.

He embraced the possibility of it all being an evil scheme, and pushed all other thoughts out of his mind. Yes, that was it; only a weird and twisted Slytherin plot to embarrass him. Nothing more.

Incredible, how relieved it made him. Not even angry. Such plotting was what he'd come to expect from the git. Kissing for some other reason was definitely not something he wanted to contemplate, not with his own deranged reaction to the whole thing.

Ron kept his mind busy listing various cloaking potions in his mind for the rest of the morning. There was little time for anything else, since it was awfully close to the time they'd actually have to take the exam.

Once that panic set in, not even thoughts about last evening could penetrate the mindless terror. Ron barely got to visit the outhouse before having a last moment browse through whatever Potions book he could grab. He noticed how Harry was doing the same.

Malfoy's absence from the living room and the mess they were making there was hardly registered.

All too soon, the ancient clock on the wall made a soft clicking sound. It showed the time Muggle way, something Ron had needed some time to get used to. He could read the time well now. It was almost ten am.

"All right, gentlemen." Appearing from his room, Snape walked in like the harbinger of doom. "It's time for you to go and get changed. Wear trousers and T-shirts only. Remember to bring your wand with you." He made a shooing motion towards the stairs.

With one last look at the page he'd been reading -- 'how to improvise when you do not have a proper cauldron' -- Ron slammed the book shut. He walked upstairs in silence, hearing Harry's footsteps follow him.

It felt like going towards an execution. Neither of them talked while they stripped off their robes. Ron wasn't at all surprised Snape demanded such a thing; he would have concealed small slips of parchment inside his clothes if he'd thought it would work.

Then again, who would cheat on the Potions exam? Someone who didn't prize his life. Snape would definitely not be lenient on anyone who cheated.

"Ron?" It was the first thing Harry had said to him all day. "Are you ready?"

Ron shook his head slightly, looking his friend straight in the eyes. This moment, they understood each other perfectly, both sharing the horror. "No way in hell, Harry. You?"

"No. I don't think anyone can be ready for this." Even decades of studying wouldn't make them ready to take the Potions exam. There would always be more things to learn, more details to memorize.

"I know." Taking deep breaths, Ron straightened himself. "Let's go." He had to force himself to actually walk to the door, because his feet didn't want to move, at least to that direction. "Good luck." They would both need it.

"You too."

Nothing else was said as the two Gryffindors walked down the stairs to meet their doom. Malfoy was already there, leaning on the railing, looking perfectly relaxed. Ron noticed that Harry was glaring at the git as well, resenting such lack of panic. He kind of approved the look.

Snape had everything ready. There were lots of potion ingredients on the table next to the wall, piles of fresh herbs and roots as well as small jars of various preserved and disgusting things.

Shivering with both fear and anticipation, Ron placed his wand on the table, as far away from the professor as possible. He couldn't understand how Malfoy and Harry didn't seem to have any problems with Snape pawing their wands. Such trust was unbelievable and totally undeserved.

Then any other thoughts disappeared as Snape muttered a few words and silvery letters appeared on the far wall and the exam began.

There were no other worries in the world. Somehow the panic that had filled Ron earlier focused on this one thing; reading the problem described, trying to find the correct potion to solve it. Then deciding on ingredients, preparing them and then brewing the actual potion. It was hard work with lots of details.

He had no time to let his mind drift as he concentrated on his cauldron.

It was the same with Harry. He'd known this would be the most difficult exam he ever faced, but he'd had no idea of how bad it would really be.

He'd woken up early and hid downstairs amongst the books. The whole house had been quiet so it had given him a chance to try to read through some of his notes again. Even though he hadn't really been able to concentrate, he'd enjoyed that time of solitude.

Last night's panic was gone. He'd been through the worst, it was now in the open. All that was left was telling Ron the rest -- the details, if he wanted to hear them.

He rather doubted he would. There was no point in wallowing in what had happened. It was more likely Ron would want to talk about the reasons behind his silence and that would be more difficult than anything. Everything he could say would probably sound patronizing, but the truth was you couldn't possibly understand it if you hadn't faced it yourself. They would just have to deal with it, like he had to deal with every decision he'd ever been forced to make.

But only after surviving the Potions exam.

Harry picked up yet another jar, trying to figure out what the small pieces floating in purple liquid were. He'd known Snape would be devious, but this went beyond his wildest expectations. How on earth was he supposed to make a potion if he didn't know what half the ingredients were?

It was obvious the others were having the same problems. Not that he really paid attention to them. He was too busy working on his own potion.

Narrowing the options to two different potions, he prepared all the ingredients that would be needed in both. Then he went through the question again, knowing he'd have to decide what to do next. Choosing the potion that made more sense, he started to brew the thing, ignoring the shiver of fear that ran down his spine.

Time ceased to exist. There was nothing but boiling cauldrons and the soft sound of cutting ingredients. Harry was reminded of the last time he had actually made a potion, of losing all the sense of reality as he worked with Snape to finish the antidote for Ron.

Pushing that out of his head, he concentrated on the one he was brewing. He definitely didn't need to think about that evening and the currents that he'd felt between Snape and him then.

It seemed as if he'd spent an eternity working on this assignment. That's why it felt so strange to look at the clock and see that only three hours had passed since they'd started. Harry eyed at his potion suspiciously. It was done. He couldn't think of anything more to do.

He wondered if he'd get any extra points from making the potion well even if it was the wrong one. When he'd started with it, he'd been so sure it was the one he was supposed to make. Now he just didn't know.

There was no time for him to do anything about it. He leaned down to write down the last notes on the small piece of parchment, describing the final stages of the brewing and then lay down his quill.

"Good. Time is up, gentlemen," Snape said. He kept his expression neutral, hiding his amusement. It was always the same, his students panicking a moment before the exam, then calming down until it was time to actually present the potion to him. He was amazed that none of these three had broken down in tears or been physically ill. It wouldn't have been the first time that happened.

Harry gathered up his parchment and cauldron. Next to him, the others were doing the same. It seemed that they'd all finished in time.

He glanced to the left, frowning as he saw that Malfoy was presenting his potion in a small clay pot instead of a cauldron. At least the liquid in there was the same color as his potion. Maybe he had managed to actually make the correct one.

A wave of relief flushed over him as he realized that it was over. It was really over. If they passed. He would have jumped for joy if he hadn't suddenly felt so beat. He hadn't even noticed how tired and grimy he was.

Snape looked at the youngsters who all looked exhausted. "Go and get ready for lunch. I'll do the cleaning here." Pretending he didn't see the shocked stares, he started collecting the cauldrons. He preferred doing the work himself, considering he'd have to analyze every cauldron and jar used.

But not today. Listening to the footsteps moving across the room towards the stairs, he decided to grade slowly. There were other things to do. He needed to brew more of the shielding potion before long, so why not do it now? He also had to deal with their outhouse again. There was plenty of time to do his duty as the professor a bit later.

It would also allow Harry and Weasley deal with each other in peace before they'd have to start concentrating on the war.

Reaching their room first, Harry steeled himself against questions he knew would come as soon as Ron closed the door behind them. That's why he was so surprised to see Ron hurry to the closet to get a clean shirt. There were no questions, no words.

He had no idea what to think about it. The hesitant smile on Ron's face told him that the silence wasn't because of some kind of a disgust he made his friend feel. Beyond that, he had no idea why Ron was acting like this. Like he actually knew that he didn't want to talk about this right now.

"If I fail the N.E.W.T.s I'll just give up." Pulling his sweaty shirt off, Ron muttered darkly, "I never want to go through that again." His ears were ringing, and he was sure that he was about to throw up if he didn't get food soon. It seemed as if breakfast had been ages ago. A small cleaning charm would have to be enough for now.

Harry nodded slightly, wondering if this was the way they'd deal with this; ignoring the whole thing. A part of him relished the idea, but he knew they couldn't just pretend this wasn't happening.

Before he could say anything, Ron said, "I'm glad it's over for now. It'll give us time to do other stuff than to read stupid Potions books." A brief pause was followed by quiet, "Like talk or something."

No, they were definitely not going to ignore it.

"Care for a game of chess after lunch?" There had been a time when Harry didn't have to ask. He's simply sit down next to a board and sooner or later Ron would make his first move, opening the game. "We could talk while we play or something." He left it open, wanting to sound inviting and not like he was forcing the issue.

Ron blinked. Then he smiled. "Yeah. Sure."

Lunch was very different from breakfast, the silence between all men mellow somehow. Panic was gone and so were most of the darker thoughts Ron had held. He did glance at Malfoy every now and then, as if to see how he would react. When there was no reaction, he'd turn back to the food.

Snape kept his attention on his students, watching the way they acted together. At moments, he had to control his expression, especially when Weasley glared at Malfoy. There was a new tension between them. He'd have to keep an eye on those two; they were up to something, and unfortunately he knew exactly how foolish these children could be.

At least Harry seemed comfortable around them. He wasn't hiding from his friend anymore.

It was a good thing, considering young Weasley's tenacity. He'd corner Harry sooner or later. Snape knew Harry wouldn't run, but wondered if he needed more time to think.

"I'll take that." Muttering quietly, Harry grabbed the tray before Eppy could gather their empty plates. He didn't look at anyone as he loaded the tray with their plates. Collecting the glasses, he cast a look at Ron, seeing the anger bloom in the blue eyes. "I'll take care of the dishes. You think you can manage getting the chess board ready?" He grinned.

Ron had to blink a few times, as his brain tried to switch gears mid thought. "Huh? Oh. Okay, sure." With a relieved grin, he walked to the living room.

Seeing both Gryffindors disappear from the dining area, Snape cast a cool look at Draco. "I'm certain you will find something to do." His gaze flickered up, as a hint. Whatever else he could say about the boy, he could read veiled orders well. A moment later, he could hear heavy footsteps heading upstairs.

Harry was smiling a little as he waited for the ancient sink to fill. It was tedious. Watching the water trickle slowly down the tap, he could definitely understand the reason behind the outhouse.

It didn't matter that Eppy was practically sulking constantly. Harry liked being able to do something completely mechanical like washing dishes, especially since no one forced him to do it.

He worked quietly, letting his thoughts drift. The day had been a strange one. He'd thought Ron would have lots of things to say to him as soon as he woke up, but apparently he'd decided not to push. Harry had no idea what had brought his friend such insight, but he was glad for it. That sense of peace had held through the Potions exam that had been indeed difficult, but not impossible to pass. He hoped.

Now he felt restless. They had nothing to do but wait until Snape graded their essays and notes.

Until then, he was determined to enjoy himself. He needed some time to think, time alone away from the others. Not just away from Ron and the questions shining in his eyes, but away from Snape as well.

Thinking had never been difficult around the man, but this time his mind was concentrating on all the wrong things. Whatever was causing this strange attraction, he wasn't able to process it rationally when he was with Snape.

He wasn't doing a much better job alone either.

He was thinking about it, but in a very bad way, not even trying to rationalize it or work through it. He didn't need anyone to tell him it was idiotic. Thinking about Snape like this was really crazy, and he admitted it freely.

The door behind him opened slowly, making enough noise for Harry to look over his shoulder. He couldn't help smiling slightly as he saw Snape walk into the room. Speak of the devil...

"Potter." Snape placed his cup on the table, glad he'd not finished his tea before Harry and Eppy had disappeared with the tray. A glare at the doorway sent the old house elf scurrying away and the door closed with an audible click.

"Snape." There was a hint of laughter in Harry's voice. No matter how much things changed, this was always the same.

Robes rustling slightly, Snape moved closer to Harry. He didn't want to be overheard by anyone who might linger outside the door. Their conversations had always been private, and he doubted Harry wanted his friend or young Malfoy to hear about this. "Is everything all right between you and Mr. Weasley?"

For a moment Harry couldn't say anything. His whole being was focusing on the warmth radiating against his back. He didn't know if that was only a figment of his imagination, but he did feel Snape's presence like never before. And not only the quiet show of concern. "Yes."

If he moved just half a step backwards, he'd brush against Snape. He could do that, then claim it had been an accident. Or maybe he could just call himself an idiot again. There seemed to be a pattern here.

Snape could see the tension in Harry. "Are you sure? You seemed to be unwilling to talk to him yesterday."

That managed to pull Harry's thoughts back to the matter at hands. He sighed, "I don't feel like talking about these things with him is a good idea." It made him uncomfortable. "Not about the killing or the decisions we've had to make."

"Do you think that the reality is too much for him to handle?" It was clear from Snape's tone that he certainly thought so.

"Probably. Or maybe I'm not ready to have him know about those things." Harry sounded doubtful. He didn't know what he meant himself. Was he trying to protect his friend or was he trying to keep his own image untarnished? "Maybe it's not that simple."

"Explain."

There was that familiar word, forcing him to think about things. Process them and deal with something he'd much rather ignore altogether.

Harry didn't look up from the small sink. "Being with the others. Hermione and Ron and Sirius and all the others... It's like I'm on the outside of everything. Looking at these people I love, but it's not real. Sometimes I don't know what reality means. Is it the things we tell ourselves or the ugly things that really happen?"

"I know the feeling." It was spoken quietly. Snape did know; he'd felt something akin to that his whole life.

He had come to see that to most people, reality was the most obvious things they could see, whatever they were comfortable with. To them, his reality must seem like a nightmare.

Not saying anything to that, Harry kept scrubbing the already clean plate. He didn't want Snape to see how confused he was right now. This understanding and sharing a sentiment was even worse than the strange physical attraction he'd finally admitted to himself. It was much more difficult to brush off.

That didn't mean that the attraction was easy to ignore. Especially now that Snape was standing so close to him, almost touching him.

He didn't know what was bringing this to his attention so damn strongly right now. Was it because of all the months he hadn't really been able to think about anyone like that or feel any physical excitement? All the time he'd been walking around Hogwarts like a ghost, not looking for a warm embrace to drown his sorrows, but for something he couldn't even name.

Placing the plate to dry, he craned his neck a little. Seeing Snape so close to him made him shiver again.

"What are you going to do then?" After watching Harry for so long, Snape could clearly see that something was still bothering him. "With young Weasley."

Focusing on the issue at hand, Harry said, "I think I'll have to talk with him. He deserves to hear the truth, or at least some of it." He wouldn't pour everything out, like he had with Snape, but wouldn't worry about every word, like he sometimes did with Sirius. Ron wanted to know, so he would have to handle the reality of his life.

There was something akin to approval in Snape's gaze. Harry tried not to show his exasperation at his body's reaction to such a look. This was getting ridiculous.

He grabbed yet another plate. "It's just so annoying to do this right now. Especially here. I like it in here. I like the way it's all right to just be. The silence." Harry didn't know if his words made any sense.

Snape stared at him for a moment. Then he nodded slowly. "Yes. Not having to deal with multitudes of idiots all the time is rather refreshing."

"So it's easier if there are just a few idiots?" Harry couldn't help saying that out loud.

The soft snort could almost be interpreted as laughter. Snape's voice was dry as he said, "Yes, Potter. It's definitely easier with just a few idiots."

Harry couldn't help craning his neck again to look at Snape. There was that glint in his eyes again, the faint glimmer of amusement over a shared joke. It made Harry's knees go weak. That dark gaze had no trace of malice and he felt like he could stand here forever, just staring into Snape's eyes.

"I assume you've made plans with Mr. Weasley." There was something strange in the silence that made Snape realize it was becoming uncomfortable. He saw Harry blink owlishly as if his mind had drifted somewhere. Then there was a hesitant nod. "Good. I will make sure Mr. Malfoy will not interrupt you."

The words made Harry jolt out of his stupor. Nodding, he turned his attention back to the dishes, wishing that Snape would take that as a proper answer. His whole being was tingling, and it was definitely getting too hot in here. If he tried to say anything right now, it would come out as a pitiful croak.

He ignored his slightly shaking hands as he grabbed a glass and started to scrub it. Hearing Snape walk out of the kitchen quietly was a relief.

Still, he had to spend a few minutes calming his breath after finishing with the dishes. He couldn't go and babble with Ron like this.

It was like being transported a couple of years back in time, when he had been enthusiastic about the whole idea of getting together with an attractive person. When the prospect of a simple touch had been as exciting as shagging itself. He couldn't understand what was making him act like that now. His body hadn't reacted this strongly -- or at all -- for a long time. Pathetically long time.

He didn't know why this was happening with Snape, even though the man wasn't really ugly or disgusting like he'd thought for years now. Just like he'd thought he was a total monster. Another misconception.

Seemed like he'd been having those a lot during the years.

His friendship with Ron wasn't one. It was sometimes difficult and not perfect, but it was one of the best things in his life. Concentrating on that, he was able to drive away the other, more confusing thoughts.

Leaving the kitchen was harder than he'd expected. His thoughts were far from clear. He knew Ron would be waiting for some kind of an explanation for everything that had happened, but he had none to offer. Nothing that would make everything all right, or that would make his friend really understand what was going on in his life.

Still, he walked across the dining area towards the living room without hesitations. They'd had problems before and they'd survived them. It couldn't be worse than some of the things they'd been through.

The slight scent of sulfur was the only reminder of the Potions exam. Everything else was just the way it had always been, the small cozy room devoid of scrolls and cauldrons. Ron was sprawled on the floor, absentmindedly poking at the small chess pieces in front of him.

Harry sat on the floor on the other side of the chess board. The pieces were already looking excited at the prospect of the game.

For a moment, it was like old times. Ron didn't say anything as he made his opening gambit. It was a reflex by now. Then he looked up, and the sense of familiarity disappeared. There had rarely been such a look in his eyes.

It was something Harry didn't want to see, especially when he suspected that he was the reason for it all.

"Okay. You've been doing extra secret Order stuff, fought Death Eaters and bonded with some creepy people without Hermione and me ever noticing." It wasn't a question. Ron was simply listing the facts he had finally figured out. "So is there something else I need to know? Some big thing that's going to change the world?"

"Not really." Harry figured that technically, his new weird thoughts about Snape fit the 'bonding with creepy people' category.

There was a moment of uncomfortable silence. Then a quiet, "And the thing you told us last night? About... Well. You know?" Ron was keeping his gaze on the pieces.

It made Harry sigh. He had no idea how to say this gently. "About killing Death Eaters." He remembered seeing one fall, but he had cursed more than one, so there was a possibility that he had indeed killed others. At least that was what his mind usually whispered in the middle of the night when all the thoughts he'd tried to suppress came to haunt him.

A simple nod wouldn't be enough. Trying very hard not to think about the short inquiry with the people from the Ministry -- who had been strangely lenient with him for actually using magic outside Hogwarts -- Harry said, "Yes. It's true."

"Why didn't you tell us?" Not even trying to hide the hurt, Ron looked up from the board to stare at Harry. "You know you could have talked to us."

Harry sighed. "I know. I know, Ron. It's not that I..." He didn't know how to explain it.

"Yes?" Earlier, back in Hogwarts, or even a few days ago, Ron would have made some kind of a joke about the whole thing or then he would have yelled at Harry. Not now. If Harry really had doubts about coming to his friends with his troubles, he had to try to prove he was worrying for nothing.

"I don't..." Harry shook his head, not knowing exactly how to illustrate the whole thing to Ron. He simply moved one of the pawns.

Life was complicated as it was. He didn't want to make things all gloomy between him and Ron. He suspected it would happen eventually anyway, when they returned to Hogwarts and had to decide what to do next. It would be impossible to steer away from serious subjects here, but he was determined not to do it now or dwell on things that happened in the past.

"I don't have any idea of what to say." That for one was true. "It's just that everything around me is a mess. I guess I just wanted to have something that wasn't. Something good."

Harry couldn't explain it more. Didn't want to say a thing about how he'd thought his best friends in the world wouldn't understand what he was going through. His stomach cramped with an uncomfortable feeling. This was the most selfish thing he'd ever done; assuring that Ron and Hermione would indeed be the best thing in his life, untainted by all the darkness and killing.

Ron smiled hesitantly. He hadn't expected something like that. "Okay." It kind of made sense.

Now that Harry wasn't hiding and running away anymore, he didn't need all the details of things past. If Harry didn't want to talk, they wouldn't, at least about old stuff. Ron could relate to the reluctance to share all the deep and probably distressing thoughts since he didn't want to think about anything that had happened these past few days either. Being molested by Malfoy and then the awful Potions exam had been enough.

He just wanted to make Harry feel better; needed to do something to make things all right again. If it meant dodging certain issues, he could deal with that.

They sat in silence, the only sound in the room coming from the small chess pieces who yelled insults at each other, brandishing their small weapons and urging the players to get on with it. It was a comfortable silence, lacking all the anger and pain that had been so painfully obvious earlier.

"So... Who do you think will win the Quidditch Cup this year?" Ron smiled like a loon as he asked the familiar question. Even the fact that there was no way Gryffindor would win without their Seeker didn't manage to wipe away his smile.

Harry blinked a few times. Then he chuckled softly. "You want to talk about Quidditch?"

"Sure. Why not?" No need to make everyone miserable now. Ron just wanted everything to be like it used to be. Simple. "Let's talk about Quidditch. Or girls." Now there was genuine enthusiasm in his voice. Their two favorite things. It was funny how many hours they had already spent babbling about brooms and Quaffles and flying robes and good looking Ravenclaws, and never seemed to get bored by any of it.

A very sly smirk spread on Harry's lips as he thought about those two things. Everything had changed indeed. The last time he'd held a broom, he'd been sweeping the floor. Drooling after girls wasn't the first thing in his mind either.

Ron had never seen that expression on his friend's face before. It reminded him of Malfoy somehow. "Don't tell me you have girl trouble?" Maybe it wasn't a smirk but a leer. He grinned at the startled look that spread on Harry's face. Yep. Definitely.

"Um... No. Well, yes. Sort of." Wondering what to say, Harry looked around to make sure no one else was listening. He definitely didn't want Snape or Malfoy to hear this.

"Yeah?" Ron realized that this was exactly the thing that had been missing. Him and Harry talking about normal things. Not about the war or the Order or even school. Bonding, like two guys should.

Sprawling on the floor, he motioned with his hand, "Go on. I'm all ears."

They shared a grin at that, a memory of many such moments when that innocent comment had made Percy bristle.

It took Harry a moment to gather his thoughts. To his dismay, he couldn't even remember the last time they'd talked about stuff like this. It was probably some time last autumn, when he'd had a brief fling with that Ravenclaw. He didn't want to think about what that meant.

It had been months since he'd been with anyone. He just hadn't felt interested in getting together with yet another person who was after his fame.

"I think... I mean, there's someone I like. A lot." The words came out without difficulty. There were so many things he couldn't even think of sharing with Ron, he wanted to say something about this now, even if there was no way he could tell everything about this either.

Ron smirked. "I knew it! So, tell me all about her. What's her name? It's not that buck-toothed Hufflepuff, right?" He took a better position on the floor, leaning his back against the couch. This was just like old times.

"Um... I don't think I can tell you that." Considering Ron's liberal use of the absolutely wrong pronoun, Harry didn't think he should really go into it now. After all, he'd never been brave enough to really talk about that with his friends. Not beyond the hints and open flirting that should have made everything clear.

Widening his smirk, Ron let it go. He didn't need to know all details. Yet. "Okay. So is it serious?" He'd been through all sorts of relationships during the couple of years he'd been old enough to actually have closer relationships, and used to call himself an expert. He wondered if this was a friendship based crush thing where Harry would decide not to pursue the crush after all, like he and Hermione, or if it was more into the mating like minks thing like the brief, but satisfying fling he'd had with Lavender.

He refused to think about mocking grey gaze and hungry lips on his. That was not about relationship. That was something disgusting.

"I don't know. I mean, I haven't told... her yet. But I think it could be." Harry stammered, and not only because of the lie. He hadn't thought about the whole thing beyond his crazy attraction, knowing that nothing could ever happen between them. No matter how he'd find Snape desirable, he wasn't the kind of man who would ever seduce -- or allow himself to be seduced by -- a student.

Still, he felt like it was wrong to say these things. It had always been about honesty with Snape and talking about him behind his back was not honest. Lying about his gender was even worse.

He hated lies; the ones he had to tell and the ones his years with the Muggles had ingrained into his brain. Still, every time he tried to talk about this, he could remember Dudley waving his dress robes above his head, calling him a crossdressing queer, Uncle Vernon locking him into the cupboard for days after the unfortunate episode.

Taking a deep breath, he corrected. "Um. Him. I haven't told him yet."

Ron felt a tremor of relief run down his back. He had known all along that Harry might be interested in guys as well as girls, but he'd seemed reluctant to talk about it -- probably a Muggle thing, they seemed even weirder about dating than other pureblood wizards did. At least now he could some day tell Harry about the thing that Malfoy had done, and not lose his best friend because he didn't condone guys kissing guys. Of course he had definitely not kissed Malfoy. The git had kissed him.

"Oh. Cool. So it's a guy. No big." He thought for a moment. "It's not any of us, is it?" Seeing the frown, he elaborated, "I mean someone in our House? Like Seamus or something?" If Harry would join dissing the Cannons and the English team, he'd kick his arse.

Harry shook his head. "No! That's gross, Ron." Having the hots for someone he'd shared the bedroom since he was eleven was like wanting your brother.

"Good. Is it Bill? Hope not. He's straight, you know. Fred on the other hand..." Ron dodged the cushion thrown at him, and collapsed on the rug, laughing.

"You are just as barmy as Trelawney, you know. You start sprouting crap about a handsome dark haired stranger next, and I'm out of here." The words made Harry smile a secretive smile. A stern looking dark haired professor was a completely different thing. "Not one of your brothers. Don't worry. And stop asking. I am not going to tell you."

Ron sat up again, hugging the cushion against his chest. "Okay. Sorry." The glint in his eyes told him he wasn't really.

Groaning, Harry grabbed yet another cushion and threw it at Ron too. A moment later he was dodging it as it was flung back. A short cushion fight followed, leaving them both breathless with laughter. He knew that Ron would definitely tease him about the mystery man later on, but couldn't resent the idea, remembering times when it had been the other way around. Simple bantering was exactly what they needed now, a reminder of their friendship that had grown firm enough to survive anything.

On the board, the pieces grumbled more as they realized that the two young wizards were not paying any attention on them again.

---

Part 13

After all the panic and last minute studying, the following days seemed like the most peaceful time in Harry's life. At least on the surface. Now that he and Ron had experienced the opposite of total boredom, neither minded the peace and quiet.

There wasn't much to do. The weather had turned from relatively nice to bleak again. It forced everyone inside. Not that it really mattered; they all seemed to be completely happy to be in their rooms. Snape was busying himself with various potions, not even issuing them chores. It was a relief, especially to Ron, even though he was anxious to get his exam back.

Only to see if he had passed.

Harry was glad of the quiet interlude. He didn't feel like concentrating on anything serious right now. He just wanted to spend time either with Ron or alone with his thoughts. It was easy, since Snape was staying in his room for most of the time. His absence was a paradox of relief and longing to Harry.

It was somehow nice to just be, even with his strange thoughts. At least he could now concentrate on them, not having to deal with distractions.

Playing wizard's chess became a good way to spend time again. It didn't matter that Ron usually won, Harry enjoyed the togetherness more than the game anyway. Whenever it wasn't raining, they would go out for a walk, never going very far, simply walking around.

They talked about ordinary things, not going back to the darker themes. It reminded them both about their first years at Hogwarts.

The evenings were still strained. Harry had trouble acting calmly with Snape, finding it harder to ignore his latest revelation. He couldn't completely evade Snape, knowing that would definitely make things worse. Didn't go seeking for his company either, fearing he'd do something stupid.

There was also something weird going on between Malfoy and Ron. Harry didn't really pay much attention to it, but he noticed there was a change. At least it was quiet now, their new battle fought with glares and smirks instead of the previous insults, yells and threats.

"Do you want to play more?" Still grinning because of his easy victory -- probably because there was no one here to distract him with the constant leering -- Ron nodded towards the chess board. They'd been playing for a few hours now, and they did have some time before lunch.

It wasn't bad to sit here in the living room with Harry. Malfoy was upstairs, and Snape had excused himself, muttering about an important potion he had to brew.

Ron had noticed a strange look between Harry and Snape as the professor had said that, but he'd decided not to comment on that. It would just ruin the day. He didn't really care. As long as they didn't have to see the Slytherins, everything was all right.

Groaning, Harry shook his head. "No thanks. I think I've been humiliated enough for one day." He actually enjoyed losing the game most of the time. At least Ron never let him win because of the whole fame thing.

It was fine with Ron. He wasn't in the mood for anything big now and they could just laze around. Wait for the scent of food spread through the whole cottage as Eppy busied herself with lunch.

He flopped on his back, staring at the ceiling. It was nice here. He could almost pretend he was here alone with Harry. That would be so cool. Better than having the Slytherins here. They somehow managed to annoy him even when they weren't present. Especially the one always watching him, like waiting for an opportunity to humiliate him again.

It was annoying! Ron almost wished Malfoy would make his next move, just so he could finally hit him or something. The constant smirking and the suggestive looks were driving him insane. Probably exactly what the git was aiming for.

The sound of raindrops hitting the windows was almost lulling him to sleep, driving thoughts of annoyance far away. Ron smiled slightly. He wasn't about to spoil the day thinking about Malfoy.

Right this moment, life was pretty good.

A few minutes later he frowned. Something was burning. There was no smoke in the air, but he could definitely smell something burning. Hoping it wasn't their lunch, he sat up, looking around. "What is that awful smell?"

Harry didn't even bother to sit up. He'd got used to this sensation months ago. "I'd say it's Veela hair. Burning Veela hair." He could tell by the weird sweet scent that lingered at the edge of his awareness. "Snape's probably working on something."

He had no idea what. He didn't really care. The smells were usually nice, even soothing.

To Ron, such an odor wasn't exactly pleasing. "Yeah. 'Making an important potion' my arse! I bet he's stalling on purpose, making us suffer." There was a lot of anxiety hidden behind the scorn as Ron quietly wondered if this delay was a sign of some of them actually failing the exam.

"I don't know, Ron. He does have things to make, you know?" Not that his friend would really get that. Harry hadn't really understood it himself before spending a lot of time in the dungeons.

Snape was undoubtedly working on various every day potions they might need, like the one he used to neutralize unpleasantries caused by the outhouse. He probably had something that would detect danger and of course he would be making more of the salve that was somehow shielding his Dark Mark.

"Yeah, right." Ron huffed. "Making us miserable."

Harry opened his mouth to deny that, but couldn't really say anything as a thought hit him. Maybe Snape was indeed stalling, but not for the reason Ron thought.

Soon, they would have to talk about the future. About things he didn't really want to think about. Before they had their results, they wouldn't really go into those things, simply lingering in the cottage, enjoying their free time.

He felt ridiculously warm inside. Why else would Snape stall the grading? He was very likely giving him time, and it was such a Snape thing to do; looking like one thing but being something quite different. Even something nice.

Seeing that Harry wasn't going to argue with him, Ron nodded again and lay down. He didn't really want to move anywhere before lunch.

Gathering around the table to eat about half an hour later, the four of them ate in relative peace. There was not much conversation, only sounds of munching and the occasional quiet comment about the food. Harry didn't have to look at Ron and Malfoy to know that there were once again glares thrown across the table.

It was better than Ron's barely veiled comments about the weird smells, so he didn't even kick his friend.

Eppy didn't bother to say anything as she brought the tea, joining the quiet choir of glaring with some of her own. She seemed to almost enjoy the oppressive attitude.

That didn't surprise Harry at all.

Not really thirsty, Harry stared at his tea cup, stirring the pale golden liquid with the spoon. He hoped it would stop raining so that he and Ron could go outside. Maybe they could even go bathing. He was running out of clean clothes, so maybe he should wash them as well.

"Gentlemen." It didn't surprise Snape that his quietly spoken word made Weasley drop his spoon. It seemed to be a habit by now. "I do believe the hallway could use some sweeping." If the three youngsters were unable to learn how to wipe their feet before entering the cottage, they'd just have to learn to sweep the floor more often.

Draco nodded immediately. "Yes, sir." He wasn't going to argue now. Not that he was about to start after getting back the exam either. Somehow all his cockiness seemed to vanish in front of Snape.

It made Harry share a gleeful glance with Ron. "And we will go and bathe," he added before anyone could assign duties for them.

There was a moment of tension as Ron bristled at Snape's instant approval. The fact that the man muttered, "I do believe that is an excellent idea, Potter," didn't help at all.

"Do you think you'll be finished with the grading any time soon?" There was a hint of a knowing smile in Harry's gaze, as if he knew something the others didn't.

Not saying anything, Snape nodded ever so slightly. He knew this meant Harry was ready to face his own role as a grown up. The thought rather boggled the mind, especially since he was forced to watch the childish games between young Weasley and young Malfoy.

Ron tried not to drop his spoon again. There was definitely a hollow feeling in his stomach.

After finishing his tea, Snape got to his feet. "I would appreciate it if you can stay out of trouble for the rest of the day. It will give me time to read your..." A malicious smirk spread to his face. "Well, what you would undoubtedly call intelligent answers." With that, he left the room. He didn't have to stall anymore but he was not going to hurry. Watching the youngsters squirm was too enjoyable.

He would have been delighted to see Harry, Ron and Draco. They all looked a bit green. Even Draco, who knew there was no way he could fail the exam felt a bit queasy.

Ron and Harry had to wait for some time before it stopped raining. Neither really minded. They were too busy gathering their clothes and tidying their room. Now that Snape was once again making noises about cleaning, they could well guess what would come next.

Crawling under his bed to retrieve three socks and a pair of used underwear, Ron sneezed. Yes. Maybe it was about the time to do some dusting here as well.

Malfoy was nowhere to be seen as they finally marched downstairs with bundles of clothes with them. It made Ron relax. He didn't want that git anywhere near him when he was naked. The mere thought was making him tingle with annoyance.

With that thought firmly in mind, he followed Harry to the stream.

It was actually fun to do the laundry. Even though Ron had sworn he would never ever wash clothes in his life again, he had to agree that this was seemed more like a game than hard work. Splashing around the magically warmed water, he had to swim after his socks a few times as the currents of the stream tried to carry them away.

Harry kept closer to the shore, never straying far from his wand. He washed his stuff quickly and then soaped himself, trying not to pay any attention to the fact that he still had some of Snape's potions with him. He must have carried them with him the last time they'd been here.

That was definitely not something he was going to start thinking about. Finished with the washing, he hid the small vials underneath his towel, not wanting to have Ron comment on them.

He was relaxing slowly, just letting the currents swirl against his skin. There would be some work to do later on -- at least to hang their clothes to dry -- but he wasn't going to fret about that right now. It was good to be spending time alone with Ron like this. It took him back to the simpler times, when he didn't have to worry about things all the time.

"Hey Harry! You think we could stay here for a while longer?" Ron wasn't in any hurry to go back to the cottage. He could stay here until his skin was as wrinkled as professor Flitwick's.

Smiling, Harry nodded. "Sure." It was nice and calm here, especially now that the dark clouds had disappeared.

He grabbed his wand to cast a small protection charm that would alert him if anyone approached the stream. They'd had too many scares here, even if there had been no intruders around. The paranoia so evident in the older members of the Order had finally rubbed into him.

Then he lay back, floating in the stream. Gaze unfocused, taking in the vastness of the blue sky, it was almost like dreaming. A dream he wanted to cling to for as long as he could.

Leaving the stream behind wasn't easy. It seemed that Ron was even more apprehensive than Harry, casting worried looks around him as they walked to the small clearing to hang their clothes to dry.

"Um..." Not even hiding his fear, Ron stood next to the clotheslines, keeping as far from the bushes as possible. "Harry? Do you think it's safe in here?" He still had only vague memories of walking back to the cottage after being bitten, but he could remember the fear and the pain.

Harry nodded. "Yes. The snake's nest is on the other side. Over there." He made a gesture with his hand. "Let's just stay away from there and make a lot of noise, so that we won't scare her if she's hunting. She can feel footsteps, you know."

"Yeah." Actually, Ron didn't have any idea of what Harry was talking about. He didn't remember things like that from their Care of the Magical Creatures classes. Well, it was good someone paid attention in class.

The dusk was setting as they made their way back to the cottage. Harry couldn't help feeling like he was coming home as he saw the light twinkling from the distance. A shadow passed over one of the windows downstairs, and he could guess who had been standing there, watching and waiting.

Dinner was already served. It was a quiet occasion, with only Harry, Ron and Malfoy eating. The days activities had mellowed Ron and for once he wasn't paying attention to Malfoy. He was too busy eating and wondering if Snape was already finished with their essays.

It was a thought that would have chased away his appetite if he wasn't so damn hungry.

Yawning, Ron pushed his chair back as soon as he'd finished with his meal. "You mind if I just go to bed? I'm too tired to do anything else today."

"No. Go ahead." Harry smiled absentmindedly. He wasn't in the mood for a game either. He'd stay downstairs and read for a moment, not feeling at all sleepy yet.

It would be nice to just be by himself and enjoy the silence; something he had never been able to share with anyone except Snape. He wouldn't mind his company. The silence with Snape was always nice, even now, when he was so aware of his presence. At least if they sat together in silence, he wouldn't have to worry about saying something stupid.

Being in the same room with Malfoy wasn't bad either, except when Ron was there. Then it was definitely annoying.

Harry could already feel a lessening of the tension. Not bothering to hurry up, he poured himself another cup of tea. He didn't pay much attention to Malfoy besides handing him the teapot.

After dinner, he padded to the living room and slumped on the couch, listening to the usual sounds coming from around him. Eppy was bustling around in the kitchen. There was the sound of dishes being carried around, followed by soft mutters. Malfoy had headed upstairs, and he could hear footsteps coming straight from above. Ron had gone out, and he couldn't help keeping an eye on the clock to make sure that he wasn't gone too long.

Slowly, the sounds faded away. First, the sound of footsteps ceased. Then Ron returned to the cottage, saying a hushed, "Night, Harry!" before climbing to their room.

Harry stretched out, letting the slim book he'd been browsing through fall on the couch next to him. He wasn't really interested in reading right now, it was enough to simply enjoy this moment.

The fire was burning low in the fireplace, sending a soft glow around the room. It was dark outside. The people in one of the paintings had disappeared somewhere, probably visiting the family in one of the larger paintings in the hallway upstairs. Nothing was moving, or making a sound.

Startled, Harry realized he felt completely happy. It was an almost foreign feeling. His mind was still, for once not working overtime to focus on all the nasty things that were going on in the world. Everything was simply about lying here all alone and luxuriating in the silence.

A part of him wanted to just stay here and maybe even sleep on the couch. It was nice and warm here, but he knew that sooner or later someone would come to see where he was, so he sat up slowly. It was best to make a short trip to the loo and then go to bed.

The lights were dimmed in the hallway. Harry stood there for a moment, casting a last longing look at the couch. Maybe he should ignore what the others would think and return there after all. His memory of sleeping there was one of the things that were making him feel happy. It would be perfect.

He turned around and almost stumbled into Snape, letting out a yelp. The hallway had been perfectly empty only seconds before!

Damn, the man always moved so quietly.

"Potter." Snape didn't even try to hide his amused exasperation. "I see you still haven't learned to pay attention to your surroundings." He'd noticed that Harry was quieter these days, lost in thought. It could be dangerous in the long run.

"Sorry." At least he hadn't been in a hurry as he'd collided into Snape. That would have been bad, especially if he'd tripped them both over and landed on the floor. Harry blinked at his thoughts, trying to banish any images of him and Snape sprawled on the floor. Not a good thought right now. Or ever, really.

The only response he got was a raised eyebrow. Nothing new there.

Looking a bit hesitant, Harry asked, "So, how is the grading?" He knew he should just go, but spending a few seconds alone with Snape was too big a temptation.

"As awe inspiring as always." It was clear from Snape's tone that it was not meant as a compliment. "I am once again amazed by the inherent stupidity and simple mindedness of teenagers."

Harry couldn't really disagree with that, not when those things were the same he was having problems with at the moment. He couldn't believe that even the cruel words were making his knees weak. The simple joy he'd been feeling these past hours was once again laden with longing.

"Not that I'm actually surprised. I am however glad I never have to read such utter rubbish from the three of you again." Now there was a hint of smile in the black eyes.

It took Harry a moment to realize what he was hinting. The expression in the usually so stern gaze was once again distracting him, making him feel utterly empty headed. Then he could only stare. Could Snape really mean that they were all passing the exam? Or that they were passing the written exam at least? He knew it was better not to ask.

He simply enjoyed the moment and the comfortable silence that wasn't overshadowed by embarrassment for once. Of course as soon as he thought about it, he started to feel weird again.

"I... I'd better let you get back to the grading, then." Thinking he should at least make a quip about the essays, Harry took a step away from the doorway. Maybe if he stayed away from Snape for a few days, this stupid gushing feeling would go away.

Snape had no idea what was going on. He just knew something was wrong with Harry. There was a new kind of tension between them and he was curious to find out exactly what had caused it.

"Er... I need to go see Ron about something."

It was clear that Harry was lying. For someone who'd had such practice with obfuscating, he was awfully bad at it right now.

"Wait." Realizing that Harry was about to walk away, Snape reached out, touching his arm. He made certain his grip was loose, unrestraining. If the boy really wanted to leave, he could do so easily. But he couldn't let him go without trying.

Harry froze in place, his hasty retreat cut by the soft touch and the apparent concern in Snape's voice. Trying to act naturally, he looked up at the man. Words died on his lips, none of the lies convincing enough to change anything. He could only stare.

There was honest worry on Snape's face, his expression once again open. Harry felt heat rise to his face. It was silly how that look could affect him like that. He'd become to realize that he did indeed fancy Snape, but this was ridiculous.

He tried to say something, anything. Even incoherent rambling would be better than this silence filled with tension.

"Potter? What is it?"

No, words were not better. At least not Snape's words. They simply added to the tension, driving calmness away. Harry turned his gaze down and stared at the hand holding his sleeve, swallowing as his arm started to tingle. All his decisions to stop thinking insane things disappeared as he reveled in the light touch.

It came to this; Snape's hand on his arm, the touch soft enough to almost be a caress.

Harry moved his arm a little, careful not to shrug Snape's hand away. This was probably one of his most idiotic ideas, but he didn't care. There were already so many stupid things he'd done.

Slowly, he turned his arm, sliding his hand to grab Snape's in a loose grip. His own breathing sounded awfully loud in the silence of the room. Everything seemed to stand still; there was only the soft touch of their hands.

Snape's hand was warm, callused. Funny, how Harry had never realized just exactly how small his hands were. Watching him work with ingredients always made him see strong, capable hands with a firm grip. Now that grip was holding him, loosely, but still sure.

This might be madness, but Harry couldn't even think of retreating anymore. Slowly, he brushed his fingers against the soft skin between Snape's thumb and forefinger, tracing some of the ink stains with his thumb. He had no idea why Snape was allowing this, why he wasn't pushed away.

"Potter?" Not certain of what was going on, Snape looked at Harry to see his expression. His fingers were tingling from the light contact, as if the simple touch of another was alien to him.

Instead of the lost expression he'd seen so many times months ago, there was an odd intensity in Harry's eyes. He looked determined, not stopping the bizarre, but not totally unpleasant touches. Relief filled Snape as he realized he wouldn't have to try to stop the young man from spiraling towards madness again.

A moment later all relief escaped him, replaced by a sinking feeling.

Harry's touch became firmer, his other hand rising slowly as if to touch Snape's shoulder. He was moving closer, a soft smile caressing his lips.

Lost in the moment for a fraction of a second, Snape leaned forward. He knew what Harry was about to do, but something in him rebelled against the whole thought. He had to see if he was indeed right.

A soft brush of lips against his made him recoil back. It wasn't even a proper kiss, only a hesitant touch. As hesitant as Harry's hand holding his.

He yanked his hand away, feeling the urge to rub his palm against his robes until he erased even the memory of Harry's touch.

This could not be happening.

Snape could only stare at Harry, his thoughts going around in circles. It was easy to interpret the signs now, the obvious teenage reactions to an impossible infatuation. He'd seen it in his students often enough, but never before had it been focused on him. No one had ever been insane enough to do that.

"I..." Swallowing hard, Harry tried to think of something to say. He hated the way Snape's gaze had turned from open into the obsidian mirror again, only reflecting what was in front of it, not revealing any emotion.

There were dozens of ways for Snape to deal with this. His first reaction was one his students had never before witnessed; he wanted to laugh straight in Harry's face. It was only appropriate at such a ridiculous prospect. He wanted to yell, taunt this idiot for harboring such ideas about him. Logically, he would have to sit the boy down and explain to him a few realities about life.

Frozen in place, he could do none of those things. He simply stared at Harry.

The sound of footsteps coming down the stairs broke the strange spell between them. Snape didn't wait to see if it was Malfoy or Weasley. He simply spun around and walked to his room.

---

Part 14

Stupid.

Brainless. Deficient. Dim. Foolish. Half witted. Idiotic. Imbecilic. Inane. Indiscreet. Insensate. Irresponsible. Ludicrous. Mindless. Moronic. Nonsensical. Obtuse. Pointless. Senseless. Simple-minded. Stolid. Thickheaded. Witless.

It was amazing how many words Harry could find to describe both him and his actions.

Had to be because of Snape's influence. The mere thought brought forth yet another cascade of words describing his stupidity.

Maybe he should hurry upstairs and crawl under the bed and stay there until it was time to return to Hogwarts. It was probably nice and dark under his bed. Clean too. It was tempting.

Harry couldn't move. He just stood there, feeling utterly lost.

"Potter."

Hearing the quiet voice speak his name didn't even make Harry jump. He'd registered the footsteps at the same time as Snape had, but he'd been too stunned to bother to see who it was. He glanced at Malfoy. "Malfoy."

It didn't matter that his voice sounded so damn small and tired. This evening was already a total disaster, nothing could make him any worse. If the Slytherin chose to taunt him, he could always help him with his newly found insight on his own stupidity.

Draco cast a questioning look at Potter, but decided not to say anything to him. He didn't want to do anything to disturb his new game. Starting a shouting match with Potter would definitely ruin it all.

Instead of making a comment about his weird behavior, he went to pull on his outer robes and disappeared into the cold spring evening.

Barely noticing the slam of the door, Harry stood there. He remembered thinking of going to the loo or to the bed. He couldn't do either. Malfoy was in the loo. Ron was upstairs. He couldn't really deal with either right now.

He waited. For what, he didn't know. Maybe for Snape to come back and hex him, or maybe he was hoping he would wake up on the couch and find out that this was all just a bad dream. It wasn't very probable. Life was always worse in reality than it was in his worst nightmares.

The door opened again, allowing cool air to blow through the hallway. Malfoy shut the door firmly behind him, not at all surprised to see Potter still standing there. He decided not to pay any attention to him, shedding his outer robes in a hurry and then returning to his own room.

Still, Harry stood there, staring straight ahead.

After a long moment, he sighed. Nothing was going to happen. He could wait here forever, and it wouldn't change anything. Walking slowly as if in pain, he went to the loo, not bothering with his thick robes.

He was shivering when he came back into the cottage. The golden light that had been so warming earlier felt flat somehow. It had been easier to breathe outside, where it had been dark, reminding him of the dungeons back at Hogwarts.

The thought made his shivering worsen. His stupidity had probably banned him from the dungeons forever.

Cursing himself again, Harry sneaked back to the living room. All traces of the lassitude he'd felt earlier had disappeared somewhere, leaving him wide awake. He walked to the couch, sitting there with his hands squeezed into fists.

He still couldn't understand what had just happened. It had been a great day; like the few before, when they'd been free of the constant studying. He'd had such fun with Ron, enjoying the familiar camaraderie.

It had taken five minutes with Snape for him to ruin everything.

He had kissed Snape. Raising his hand slowly to his lips, Harry closed his eyes. Yes, he had kissed Snape. Brushed his mouth against his.

It had been a fleeting touch as Snape had flinched away the moment their lips had met.

Harry shivered. He had been completely mesmerized by the moment; the touch of Snape's hand. It had been unreal, standing there in the hallway with the man, holding his hand. There had been no sign of disgust in Snape then, when he had caressed his fingers, slowly, hesitantly.

There had only been that familiar burn in the dark eyes, the heat that was inviting him closer, like a moth to the flame.

Maybe that was why he felt like his whole world had turned into ashes. Snape had walked away from him without words, but his expression had been easy to read. There had been no emotions, not even disgust. A complete void of anything real. It was worse than anything else.

Harry hadn't known how much he'd come to rely on Snape really being there for him until he watched him walk away. The man had stopped trying to push him away a long time ago, allowed him close, closer than Harry had ever been to anyone. Had even come after Harry when he'd escaped Ron and the memory of his own past.

Those moments had been brief, but they had become the core of Harry's existence. Being with Snape felt right; the shared silence, the understanding of things most people couldn't even dream of.

What on earth had driven Harry to destroy that? Kissing Snape? He was really a total cretin!

Halting the litany of dark words that was starting to repeat in his mind again, Harry sighed. He couldn't draw conclusions on Snape's retreat. It was a gut reaction. Maybe he would think about it and let him explain tomorrow. Explain that he was indeed an idiot and apologize for his hasty actions. Promise he would never ever try anything as foolish as kissing him again.

The problem was, he wanted to kiss Snape again. That brief touch wasn't enough. Being honest with himself, he had to admit that he sort of wanted to hold Snape close and do sweaty naked things with him, wanted to spend hours in bed with him, even if to just talk. Needed to be with him.

He sighed. There was a world of difference between what he needed and what he wanted. Usually, he didn't get either.

It was completely quiet in the small cottage now. Harry leaned back against the backrest, trying to relax. He needed to think this through right now, so that tomorrow when he saw Snape he could approach the problem calmly, reasonably. They would have to talk about this, and he didn't want to sound like an idiot, rambling in panic.

No matter how he might feel.

Nothing came to mind, except the need to make everything better again. He could make no excuses. Honesty worked both ways. Lying to Snape now would be a dismal idea, one he'd see through immediately.

Harry closed his eyes. If lying was out of the question, he'd have to go with the truth. He could decide on the amount of the truth, but he would indeed have to tell Snape that he... He didn't even know what to call it. He liked him. Fancied him. He'd probably better not mention the sweaty naked things, even though after the kiss, it was kind of obvious already.

If the wall had been a bit closer, he would have banged his head against it.

He was tired, exhausted after a long day. He was thinking about things he didn't want to think, his mind painting a bleak picture of his lonely future after this one stupid hormonal mistake. He just wanted to sleep. Too weary to go upstairs, he decided to sleep here. He didn't want to move.

Insomnia, his old companion had settled in for the night, though. The clock on the wall ticked nightly hours away as he lay there, completely awake. He noticed how he didn't feel the usual panic, grateful for such a small comfort.

For the first time in months, he knew that even if the walls started closing in again, he wouldn't have a place to go. There wouldn't be a hiding place offered for him, no quiet words.

He managed to drift off a few times, cursing as he startled awake and saw the hand had only made its journey around the clock's face once. Those short moments of sleep only made him feel worse, as his body started to demand proper rest.

The first rays of the sun touched the floor on the other side of the room. It was getting brighter, the sound of birds waking up and chirping was strangely loud. Harry didn't mind. It was better to listen to the sounds coming from outside than to pay attention to his own thoughts.

Soon, the cacophony from outside was joined by the sound of water being run. Eppy was apparently awake, working in the kitchen. She didn't seem to mind the noise she was making, probably muttering to herself as well.

Harry stretched, grimacing as his shoulder popped loudly. Sprawling here for hours and hours hadn't been a good idea after all. The couch was definitely not as comfortable as he'd thought, and for a moment he missed his chair from Hogwarts.

Not a good thought. Maybe he wasn't about to fall asleep, but he refused to spend the whole morning wallowing either.

Padding quietly across the room so he wouldn't wake anyone up, he headed towards the door. Nature was calling. It was chilly outside, the early morning sun had yet to drive the coolness of night away. The ground was wet. Funny, he hadn't even noticed it had rained during the night.

A few insects scurried to hide as Harry lit a small magical light in the outhouse. He didn't really pay attention to them, noticing a fat spider in passing and wondering if he should shoo it away before Ron got here. Seeing how the spider was just sitting there made him reluctant to disturb it. Casting the now familiar cleansing charm on his hands, he decided to let the creature be.

He didn't feel like upsetting anything or anyone. Enough of that was already happening around him.

There were more sounds coming from the kitchen area as he returned to the cottage. Harry could smell bacon frying. Usually, it would make his stomach grumble, now it didn't have any effect on him.

Ron would probably be downstairs any minute now. He could smell food from miles away. At least it felt like that sometimes.

Before Harry could decide whether to go to eat or just return to the couch, one of the doors upstairs was opened, then slammed shut. Heavy footsteps rushed downstairs, as if the person approaching was in a great hurry.

"Hi Harry! You should have woken me up." Not even stopping to see if there was a reply, Ron was already on his way to the dining area. "Bacon!"

The familiar enthusiasm brought a hint of a smile on Harry's lips.

He was relieved to see that Ron didn't find anything weird in him being up this early. After spending the night worrying and brooding, he definitely didn't need to face Ron and his questions.

"Morning." Surprised by the yawn that accompanied his greeting, Harry muttered, "I knew your nose would wake you up sooner or later."

Ron stuck out his tongue at him, not at all offended by the quip. He was a growing young man and needed his food. Even though he'd never be as tall as Bill, he was already taller than Percy, and could consume an incredible amount of food without it showing. Much.

Concentrating on his friend and the breakfast, Harry led the way to the dining area. He didn't even cast a look at Snape's door. Before long, the man would come out and then they'd have to deal with what he'd done.

Eppy had already set the table. Seeing the mounds of food in the middle of the table, Ron grinned happily at the old house elf, not minding the snort she let out. He grabbed his plate and filled it with enthusiasm. This was the perfect way to start a day.

Even Malfoy's appearance a moment later couldn't ruin his appetite. He simply ignored him, already knowing there would be a smirk on his face.

Ron was starting to get used to the smug expression. It hadn't changed since the git had mauled him. Always there, a knowing smile that seemed to taunt him. At first he hadn't been able to keep from blushing when he'd seen that expression. It had brought forth embarrassment and guilt, mostly for his own behavior. Such stupidity was expected from Malfoy, everyone knew how the Slytherins related to sex. Of course he would see hatred as lust or foreplay. It was wrong of him to be affected by the whole thing.

So he tried not to pay attention to Malfoy and his looks. It wasn't easy, but he was not about to play with his rules.

Confident of his newly found resolve, he looked up as he reached for the juice pitcher, and then almost threw the pitcher at the smirking git as heat rose to his cheeks.

Damn it!

It just wasn't fair. Must be because of his complexion that came with the red hair. He'd never been able to control the way his cheeks reddened whenever he was uncomfortable. Ron poured himself a glass of juice and made sure his gaze didn't meet Malfoy's as he put the pitcher down again.

He was definitely not going to let him destroy his good mood or his appetite right now. Determined not to play Malfoy's game, he kept his attention on his food.

That way he didn't see the smirk melt into a look of deep satisfaction. It was good, for he'd undoubtedly done something rash if he'd realized that he'd just lost a round.

Forcing himself to eat even though he wasn't really hungry, Harry kept glancing at the door every few minutes. He hated this. Hated the waiting and the uncertainty. Was Snape going to come to breakfast at all?

It seemed he wasn't. A few moments later Malfoy pushed his chair back and tossed his napkin on his plate before walking out without a word. At least that was a good thing. Harry didn't want to witness a fight now. There would be plenty of time for that later.

There was no sign of Snape.

Making barely audible sounds of discontentment, Eppy appeared from the kitchen and started to clean the breakfast away. She glared at Ron who didn't seem to even notice her presence and continued eating.

It was such a normal sight, Harry almost smiled. He offered Eppy his plate and moved some of the other dishes closer for her to reach, earning a dark look and more muttered words for such courtesy. He didn't mind. Eppy was actually a welcome change to other, more eager house elves.

He watched her work, not bothering to offer more help, knowing it was not appreciated.

"You want to do something special today? I could go swimming again. Well, I mean later." Ron pushed back against the chair, sighing with happiness. He was certain he'd just sink if he went to the water right now. But damn he felt good. Eppy should cook bacon more often, like every day.

Harry shook his head. "I think I just want to stay here today." He was not about to leave the cottage. Snape had to come out of his room sooner or later, and when he did, he was going to have a word or two with him. He could wait here for as long as it took.

"Oh." Trying not to sound too disappointed, Ron shrugged. "Okay. So we'll just go and get our stuff then. I wonder if it rained last night."

Harry had completely forgotten about the laundry. He sighed as he remembered how wet it had been outside. They'd have to do something about their soggy clothes. He wondered if he could ask Ron to deal with them, knowing already that he couldn't send his friend out there alone. Asking him to work with Malfoy so that he could stay here and wait for Snape to come out of his room so that they could talk about how he'd kissed him would probably not go well either.

Working with the laundry was just as annoying as Harry had expected. Wet and tedious.

The silence he and Ron shared only added to his annoyance. He couldn't really think of anything to say, his mind too full of doubts and anger about what had happened. It seemed that Ron wasn't in any mood for idle chatter either.

Usually he wasn't too eager to take part in small talk. Now, it would have been a relief.

Instead of talking about Quidditch, or school, or even the weather, Harry kept thinking about the cottage. Folding damp shirts, he wondered if Snape had come out of his room yet. Planting a robe on the basket, he thought of going to Snape's door, asking for a moment. It would be a foolish strategy, but it might get results.

By the time he and Ron were finished, Harry was sure he was indeed going out of his mind. All the things he could think of sounded bad. Silence would suffocate him while talking might bring everything to an end. Giving Snape time might mean they never talked, going to him would lead into a fight.

Harry spread the damp robe over the door leading to their room. It would take some time for it to dry. The way the robe prevented him from closing the door didn't matter. He did not want to hide.

That was about the only clear thought in his head. He had absolutely no idea of what he wanted; nothing specific came to mind. He wanted things to be back to the way they were, but even that felt false.

Determined not to let go of his plan to at least try to talk to Snape, Harry went back downstairs, not even bothering to bring a book with him this time. He was content on sitting on the couch and waiting.

Having Ron join him shortly after didn't surprise him. He simply smiled at his friend, but didn't say a thing.

Lunch was announced by Eppy, who seemed even more irritated than usual. She walked slowly back to the kitchen, glaring at the doorway across the hall, almost as if her glare would bring Snape out.

Harry looked at the door as well. It didn't open, and Snape didn't come out. So much for wishful thinking.

Sitting here alone with Ron and Malfoy wasn't really making Harry feel any better. He waited in silence as the others cast some strange looks at each other and then managed to fill their plates without accidentally spilling anything steaming on each other's lap.

The food looked excellent and smelled good too. Harry piled sausages and chips on his plate, adding some vegetables as an afterthought, and then sat down, staring at his plate.

He was not hungry.

Not even bothering to play with his food, he sat there, wondering if he should even be here. It had felt better to stay in the living room; at least it had been peaceful there. He could just sit and think and didn't have to watch Ron act weirdly with Malfoy. He hadn't really paid attention on that earlier and wasn't about to start now.

Too many things were already going so damn wrong in his life, he didn't want to get involved with other people's troubles. As long as Malfoy wasn't hurting Ron -- and Ron wasn't killing Malfoy -- everything was all right.

Soft sounds from the hallway didn't alert Harry until the door was suddenly pushed open. He looked slowly up, completely ignoring the way Ron was trying not to choke on his food.

There was a familiar sneer on Snape's face as he stormed into the room. He cast a glare on Ron who was still coughing, allowing his gaze to slide over the table to Draco as well.

He paid absolutely no attention to Harry.

The tension in the room seemed to only grow as he sat down and reached out for the dishes. Even Eppy had disappeared back into the kitchen. She might be a grouchy old house elf, but she wasn't stupid.

At least Ron wished he could follow her example and run. He didn't feel hungry anymore. Casting a worried glance at Harry, who was once again just staring at his plate, he didn't move to get up. It would feel wrong to leave Harry alone with the Slytherins right now.

The only sound in the room was the soft clinking of metal against porcelain, occasionally joined by the sound of a glass being lowered back on the table.

Harry lifted his hand slowly and grabbed his fork. Knowing he couldn't eat a thing, he simply poked at his lunch, avoiding eye contact with anyone.

He tried to remember when he'd last felt this uncomfortable and failed. There were occasions, he was certain, but somehow nothing seemed as bad as this. He wanted to say something to end the silence, but knew he couldn't. If he said something to Snape while Ron and Malfoy were around, he would probably never have a chance to talk to him again.

Him being an idiot might be forgiven. Him being an idiot and embarrassing Snape in front of others would probably result in being turned into something small and slimy.

Pushing his carrots to the other side of the plate, Harry wished this was all over already.

Barely resisting the urge to roll his eyes, Draco watched his professor cut his lunch into small precise portions before skewering them with his fork. He had no idea of what had happened, but he could well guess. Potter was looking completely desolate, where as Snape seemed as forbidding as ever.

Something important had happened last evening. He wondered what he would have seen if he'd come downstairs five minutes earlier than he had.

The way his professor and Potter had behaved together had been an enigma for weeks. They didn't seem to be playing any of the games he was aware of, and he knew many. Whatever there was between those two, it was something that wasn't a part of his vocabulary.

Draco wasn't sure he really wanted to know.

He did know enough to keep his mouth shut. Making any kind of comments would be suicidal now. That was the reason he'd never use the strange looks between Potter and Snape as a weapon in his ongoing battle with Weasley. Speculations about Snape's life were all right only as long as they never went to the man himself.

This silence and obvious discomfort in Potter was intriguing. Draco would not say anything about it, but he was definitely going to watch. It was highly entertaining.

Finishing with his food in less than five minutes, Snape pushed his chair back. He was not going to stay here a moment longer than was absolutely necessary. He stood up, not even looking at Harry. "I do not wish to be disturbed. If you find it necessary to do something idiotic, please do it outside." It was accompanied by a glare that was much more effective than 'or else...'

Before anyone could even nod, he was out in the hallway.

Harry lifted his gaze from his plate, groaning as he realized that he didn't have a chance to talk to Snape now either.

"Are you all right?" Looking worried, Ron leaned closer to his friend. He'd noticed that there was something going on with Harry, but didn't really want to pry. He didn't want to force him to lie to him.

"No. Not really." Too tired to even evade the hesitant inquiry, Harry shrugged. "But it's nothing big."

Ron wasn't stupid enough to actually believe that, but nodded anyway. "Okay." They had talked about this often enough for him to know that if Harry wanted to talk, he'd talk.

After that disgusting and completely wrong thing that Malfoy had done a few days back, he'd come to understand the need for silence. He wouldn't want to share his thoughts with anyone right now. Not even Harry.

It was a relief to see a hint of understanding in Ron's eyes. Harry pushed his chair back, not bothering to even pretend to eat anymore. Since there was nothing to say, he padded back to the living room.

He would wait here.

He knew it was foolish, but he couldn't do anything else right now. Seeing the blatant dismissal had somehow taken all the fire from him. He felt completely drained, unable to think of anything to do, so he simply curled on the couch, arms wrapped around his knees.

The cottage wasn't quiet. The contrast to the nighttime was enormous. Most of the sounds came from the dining area and the kitchen, where someone was making lots of noise by slamming plates on the table. A moment later there was the sound of the door slamming shut and then footsteps going upstairs.

Harry assumed that was Ron. At least it had sounded like him making an angry retreat. Maybe Malfoy had once again said something stupid to him. He didn't know.

To his dismay, he had to admit that right now, he didn't care. His whole life had been a big drama, his thoughts usually focusing on things around him. Lately, he had tried to keep in mind his duty to the Order, therefore ignoring personal needs.

Worries and doubts that had gathered inside him like a storm had been poured out in the dungeons. It had been the one openly selfish act Harry had done in years. That, and the occasional nights he'd spent ages ago trying to drown everything in warm skin against his.

Otherwise, he'd tried his best to be what was expected of him, at least on the outside. That Harry Potter would have been worried about Ron's behavior and wouldn't have simply stayed here on the couch.

He sighed. Whatever was going on, it wasn't a matter of life and death. It could wait. He didn't know if this could. Snape wasn't like anyone he knew; he could hold a grudge for decades. Waiting for a proper moment wouldn't work. He could probably wait forever, and Snape would be exactly the way he was now.

In Harry's tired mind, the guilt of being a lousy friend mixed with all the other dark emotions, leaving him utterly exhausted. He closed his eyes, wondering if he could take a short nap here. There was nothing for him to do, so he might as well.

Every sound coming from the hallway made him jump. Eppy's work in the kitchen was loud enough to keep him awake. His own thoughts were even louder.

Dinnertime came and went, and there was no sign of Snape. The only sign of his existence was the faint smell of sulfur coming from his room; he was once again hiding in his work.

Ron spent some time with Harry after grabbing a quick dinner. He didn't want to linger in the dining area with Malfoy, so he went to sit with Harry. Sensing that offers to talk wouldn't be appreciated, he offered to play some chess instead. When Harry refused, he simply sat on the other couch and pretended to be enthralled by one of the Muggle novels Hermione had packed in his trunk.

It was dark outside. Neither Ron nor Harry bothered to turn on the lights as it became too dark to read, they simply sat there.

"I'm going to bed." Resigned to the fact that nothing would really happen, Ron stretched and laid the book on the couch. He'd heard Malfoy make his way out to the outhouse and back again a while earlier and knew he could go through his evening routines without bumping into the git.

Harry sighed. "Okay. I think I should do that too." He was tired and disappointed. He was also getting angry, even though he couldn't really decide on the object of his anger.

Yawning, Ron made his trip to the outhouse. It was insane that a day spent mostly inside doing nothing could make him more tired than a day spent doing disgusting chores. He was feeling a bit groggy and there was definitely a beginning of a headache.

He tried to count how long they would have to spend here at the cottage. The days were slightly blurred, forming an endless 'then' in his mind. When he finally came to an estimate, he couldn't help groaning out loud, his exhale disturbing a moth that was circling the small light in the outhouse.

They would still have to stay here for weeks. Weeks of watching Harry brood about something. Trying not to stay alone with Malfoy, who hadn't repeated the kiss, but would probably try something as disgusting and totally unwelcome in the near future if the signs he was sending were correct. Ron was beginning to wish they were back at Hogwarts, even with all the exams approaching. Anything would be better than this.

Lost in his gloomy thoughts, he was startled into a panicked yelp as the cottage door opened the moment he touched the handle. It was like the worst kind of a flashback, except that this time it was not Malfoy.

Managing to stutter, "Good night, sir," Ron stepped inside and shut the door behind him. He couldn't help feeling shivers run down his spine.

The general gloominess would be tolerable without Snape here. Somehow he managed to make things worse with his mere presence. Ron wouldn't be surprised if he had something to do with what was bothering Harry.

Because no matter what anyone said, Snape was and always would be a cold hearted bastard.

As Ron peeled off his outer robes, still wondering why it was so damn cold in here, the door to the living room opened and Harry peeked out. Instead of looking sad and angry at the same time, there was a weird glint in his eyes.

"Was that Snape?" Harry thought he'd heard some steps in the hallway before the door had slammed shut, but wasn't sure about that. Seeing Ron nod made him feel strangely boneless. "Good."

"You know, sometimes I really worry about you." There was enough smile on Ron's face to make that a joke, but he did mean it. The mood swings were nothing new, he'd had to witness Harry move a bit farther from him and Hermione and the others for some time now and there had been signs of brooding for ages. But this whole thing with Snape was really starting to worry him.

Delusions about liking Snape. That was like saying you liked the Muggle way of taking care of dental hygiene. No disrespect towards Hermione's parents, but Ron had heard stories.

"Don't bother. I'm fine." If not fine yet, he would be soon. At least Harry wouldn't have to spend another day waiting. He gave Ron a faint but honest grin. "Go to bed. I'll be up there soon."

He stepped fully into the hallway and then stood there, waiting patiently. This was exactly the kind of an opportunity he'd been waiting for.

Ignoring the weird way Ron glanced at him on his way upstairs, he tapped his fingers against the wall. He was really nervous, but he wasn't going to back away now. He had faced worse than this. Probably.

The hallway was completely quiet. Ron's footsteps could be heard from above, but there were no other sounds. Harry tried very hard not to focus on the unnaturally loud beating of his heart. This was not a thing to be anxious about, this was nothing new. He had talked to Snape before. Everything was going to be all right.

He released a deep breath as the door opened.

Snape walked in from the dark evening as if entering the Potions classroom. The door banged shut with precision, the gust of cold air making his robes billow.

The breeze made Harry shiver. "Snape." There was notable hesitation in his voice.

There was a totally blank expression on Snape's face as he glared at Harry. He didn't say anything, just hung his outer robe on the rack.

Hesitation was slowly turning into annoyance, the feeling tingling through Harry's body. He was glad of it, for it was a strong emotion, driving him on. "Are you just going to pretend that I'm not here?" For some reason that was more offensive than anything.

There was a short silence. Then cold, precise words, "Go to bed, Potter."

At least now they were talking, in a way. Any words would be better than the icy silence. No insults would manage to hurt more than dark thoughts that would linger and fester until one went insane.

"I want to talk with you." Harry was getting really angry at the cold stare. This was the side Snape showed in class, the side he'd become to hate since he'd first seen beyond it.

Snape snorted, the sound full of contempt. "I don't have time for this." With that, he turned his back on Harry.

The shock of seeing such clear dismissal almost paralyzed Harry. He stared at the retreating man, feeling cold inside. Then he rushed after Snape, almost catching him before they reached his room.

Panting with rage, he stared at the door that had been banged shut right in front of his face. He was not going to give up this easily. "Snape!" He knocked on the door, his knuckles rapping hard against the wood. "Open the door."

There was no answer, the door staying closed.

Harry hadn't really expected there to be an answer. He knocked again and then tried the handle. The fact that the door was locked wasn't exactly a surprise either. "Open the damn door, Snape!"

Still no reaction. He'd thought the man would at least open the door to scowl at him or to tell him he was a total cretin for yelling like this in the hallway. The silence wasn't going to drive him away. He'd stand here until Snape opened the door even if it took hours.

Of course that would make both Ron and Malfoy come here to see what was going on. He was amazed neither one had come to see what all the noise was about.

He raised his hand again, and then lowered it. This was ridiculous. Grabbing his wand, he pointed it at the lock, snarling out, "Alohomora." Maybe Snape hadn't put any wards on his door yet.

The lock opened with a loud click.

Before Harry could even step into the room, Snape's voice came out clearly, "Get out of my room, Mr. Potter." He sounded like he was definitely not joking.

"I need to talk to you." It was a parody of the need that had driven Harry on weeks earlier. "About what happened last night." He would not back down now. He'd said more painful things to Snape, had ranted and raved and cried until he was hoarse. This was easier than that.

Snape crossed his arms across his chest. "Nothing happened last night. Now get out of my room before I lose my patience with you!"

"Nothing happened? Damn it, Snape how can you say that? Nothing..." Stubbornly standing by the door, Harry shook his head. "No. I am not going to lie about it. Not to you or to myself. We kissed." He faced the glare without flinching. "And it wasn't an accident. I wanted to kiss you. That's the truth."

"Don't be ridiculous!" The tone of Snape's voice was familiar from years of Potions classes. It held all the contempt and annoyance he could muster. Hid a multitude of other emotions as well.

Harry's reaction was instant. Blushing with shame, he said, "Snape..." He had no idea what to say really.

"Now if you're quite through with your childishness, I would like to retire for the night. Leave!" It was clear that Snape had nothing more to say.

It was the cold way Snape shrugged the whole thing off that hurt Harry the most. He looked into Snape's eyes, knowing that there was no getting through to him while he was acting like this. Words would only make him angrier.

He stepped backwards, trying to hide the pain from the other man. It didn't really work as well as he thought, as he stumbled into his own robes, almost falling on the floor. It was mortifying. Suddenly he didn't want to face Snape anymore. He just wanted to run away from this whole mess.

What a stupid thing to do in the first place! Kissing Snape? He really had been out of his mind. What the hell had driven him to act like a damn teenager, a stupid, horny teenager? Why the hell hadn't it been enough to just be with Snape?

Now he was losing all that; the only person who knew almost everything about him, the peace he felt with him. He didn't know what made him angrier, his own idiocy, or Snape's stubbornness and refusal to let him explain everything.

He slammed the door shut behind him, anger driving him on even into the cool evening. Strange, how long it had been since he'd last felt this mad. Cold anger was familiar to him, the icy feeling in his chest that confined all the emotion inside. This was different; hot rage that made him run until he tasted blood in his mouth, leaving him empty with the urge to smash things. Since there wasn't anything breakable anywhere near, Harry simply drove his fist into the first tree available.

It hurt like hell, but somehow it made him feel a lot better.

Panting, he stared at his bruised knuckles. The pain was overriding some of the rage, and he was now able to have a clear thought or two. Realizing that running blindly around the countryside was idiotic, he leaned against the tree and slid down on the ground.

He just wanted to stay here forever. Not thinking anything. No thoughts. That sounded wonderful.

Of course nothing was ever that easy for Harry Potter.

"Are you quite through with your little tantrum, Potter?" The dry voice was the first indication of Snape's presence. He'd moved through the small grove quietly, not making any sound as he followed Harry.

Seeing the expression on the boy, he doubted he would have heard him even if he'd made as much noise as a herd of stampeding Bicorns.

Harry let out a broken laughter. "It had to be you following me. Damn it, Snape..." He could tell by the intent look in the dark eyes that he probably wouldn't have any privacy from Snape now that he needed it.

"You're wandering around the place in the middle of the night. Of course I would follow you, you idiot!" Snape snapped the words out.

It only made Harry shake harder with mirthless laughter. "Why do you care? Why the hell should you care about an idiot brat like me? It's not like you even want to talk to me. Or be honest with me."

However much Snape wanted to call his tone sullen, he couldn't. There was too much genuine pain there. It surprised him to actually flinch at the thought that he was causing that pain. He'd never cared about such things before. "You know your safety is important to me." That had never seemed as painfully obvious. "But it doesn't mean I have to indulge your fantasies."

That was clearly an evasion. A very careful evasion, but even Harry could recognize it as such.

"Stop it. Just stop. If you can't even... You've never lied to me." Seeing the denial in Snape's eyes, he amended, "Not about things that really matter. Don't start now."

Snape wanted to say something excruciatingly cruel. Remind him that he was simply doing his duty listening to him, or maybe even say that whatever emotion Harry saw in him was pity and nothing more.

Raising an eyebrow, he said, "I can not be held responsible for your delusions, Potter." He snapped his mouth shut. No matter how hard he'd tried, it hadn't come out right. There wasn't enough real scorn in him.

"Will you just listen to me?" Exasperated, Harry looked at Snape. The moon was still bright enough to illuminate the man's face, but he couldn't really tell anything about his expression. Snape was a master of hiding most of his emotions, except rage, of course. He never seemed to hide that. "Please. You promised you would listen."

There were no words, but Snape nodded. Yes, he had made such an utterly foolish promise. He could handle listening to Harry again, even if this would be the most insane thing he'd ever said.

To his amazement, what came out next wasn't even close to what he expected.

"I don't want this to drive you away. Or make you drive me away." Harry wanted to make that absolutely clear. "I may have a crush on you, but that's not the issue here."

Snape was rarely truly surprised; he'd seen and heard too much during his life. This was the second time Harry Potter managed to astonish him. First by actually having a mind that worked. Now with this.

Forcing his gut reaction of angry words and disdain down with surprising ease, Snape nodded again, urging Harry to go on even though he was certain he did not want to hear this.

Harry let out a soft sigh, glad that his totally unplanned confession hadn't chased Snape away again. He never knew how he would react. It made this conversation more difficult than any they'd had this far. "I won't apologize for kissing you. That would be a total lie. I'm not sorry for that, but I am sorry if it..." He searched for the proper word. "Offended you somehow."

It was enough to convey his meaning, even if the word was not exactly the one he wanted to use.

"I was not offended." Appalled, yes, even disgusted by his own blindness. Snape couldn't believe he had not recognized the looks and touches earlier. Couldn't believe he'd even encouraged them in a way.

"Thank Merlin!" This time, Harry did nothing to hide the relief in his voice. "Okay. Good." He smiled brightly at Snape.

Snape wondered what would come next. He had never seen anyone be so happy for not managing to offend him before. It went against all the rules. Harry was supposed to want to offend him, that was the natural order of things.

Rising slowly to his feet, Harry brushed his hands against his robe. His palms felt clammy, the sensation extremely unpleasant. "Can we talk about it? I mean... We don't have to talk about the kiss if you don't want to, but... I want to talk with you. About something. Anything."

"I'm once again amazed by your eloquence, Potter." The sarcasm came unbidden. Snape knew what he meant. He wasn't prepared to talk about that ridiculously clumsy attempt of a kiss, didn't want to think about his own reaction to it. He'd spent hours working with potions, refusing to think about anything.

It would have been a waste of time to spend any time contemplating such utter lunacy.

Harry wasn't going to let it go. "I mean it. Are you going to stop running away and talk to me?" He didn't know what he'd do if Snape refused to go back to what they'd had. He'd probably pester him until he either gave in or hexed him with an Unforgivable.

"I am not running away." The denial was instant, even though Snape knew that neither believed that to be true. He watched Harry for a moment, and then voiced the thought that had been gnawing at him for some time now. "You don't need me anymore, Potter. As much as it amazes me, I have to say that you have learned to process your thoughts quite efficiently these past months."

Shaking his head, Harry said, "No." He was not going to let Snape out this easy.

"Why?" Snape didn't have to elaborate. He knew that Harry's denial wasn't about needing him, it was about their agreement. He couldn't understand why he would want to continue their conversations now; they weren't vital to either of them.

"I'm not strong enough to do that. I can acknowledge the fact that 'yes, I do like you and find you sexy as hell and by the way it's not a good idea to shag your teacher so let's not do it after all'. You know me. I'm not a walking hard on! But for us to stop talking because of this. Do you have any idea of how..." Realizing that he was about to say something he would definitely regret later on, Harry straightened his back. "Never mind that."

Snape felt cold all over. He knew the boy was right. Without realizing just how far it would go, he'd offered him something unconditional, and was now running away like an idiot just because he was... Apprehensive. Not about what Potter probably thought of, but apprehensive anyway. "No. Say it."

"Fine. I see you as a friend. Yeah. Go ahead and laugh. I feel comfortable with you, and I thought you weren't appalled by my presence either. Now you're pushing me away just because of this thing. It's not fair."

"And what is it I have no idea of?" The way Harry was evading the whole question was actually impressive, but Snape wanted the truth.

Harry smiled a wry smile. "Of how it feels like to be losing a friend."

It was ridiculous how the words hit Snape. He was quiet for a moment, wondering of what Harry would say if he ever said a word about the only real friend he'd ever had. Or thought he'd had.

Never trust a Slytherin, was a quite famous saying amongst the other Houses. Never trust a Malfoy was another one. Snape hadn't exactly been naive as a youngster, but he had made some mistakes. Trusting Lucius Malfoy was one he regretted the most.

Snape sighed, deciding to drop the whole thought. He was not about to talk with anyone about this. "I understand you're having..." He had to actually think about how to phrase that. He was definitely not going to use the words 'sexy', 'shag' or 'hard on' in the sentence. "I understand you're... infatuated with me." A complete lie. He couldn't understand it at all.

"For the lack of a better word, yes." Biting sarcasm in Harry's voice.

It rather reminded Snape of himself. "You do understand that it's perfectly normal for someone like you to have such feelings towards someone you trust and confide to." He could still remember how many of his yearmates had made fools of themselves with Poppy. Trips to the infirmary had usually lead to idiotic crushes on the woman.

There was a short silence, then Harry started to laugh. He couldn't help it. Snape's words had just made him think about another conversation they'd had a while back.

Snape waited patiently for Harry to stop laughing. He was convinced this was confirming his speculations of the boy's instability. How annoying. After all, Harry had never shown any signs of real insanity back at Hogwarts.

Wiping the tears of laughter from his cheeks, Harry gasped, "Are you speaking out of experience, Snape?" The snort following that was definitely a muffled giggle; a very unmanly sound of amusement. "After all, you have been in the dark place yourself, needing someone to talk to..." More muffled giggles.

It took Snape a moment to realize just exactly what he meant with that. At first he was trying very hard not to think about how he'd been after leaving the Death Eaters. He'd been in no condition to be sexually attracted to anyone then, not for quite some time. Then the meaning hit him, and he had to roll his eyes at Harry's idiocy. "No, Potter, I have never been attracted to the Headmaster."

He didn't even want to think about what that would have led to. Probably a pat on the head, a bowl of Sherbet Lemons and then murderous glares from Minerva.

After Harry had calmed down a bit, Snape added, "But that does not change the fact that our... association is not one on which you can build a romantic relationship. I do not care if you have fantasies about me. You're probably not the first student to dream of me. However I would assume those dreams usually deal with various ways of killing me." The thought made his lips curl up a bit.

"You're probably right." Harry nodded, still smiling. That was probably the essence of Neville's most cherished daydreams. The laughter was bubbling right below the surface, just waiting for a perfect opportunity to emerge again.

Snape refused to comment on that. "I am not only your teacher, Potter. I'm your..." There was yet another pause as he had to search for a proper word.

This time none of the terms he could think of fit.

"You come to me when you need to talk. That makes this whole matter therapeutic. Infatuation is completely understandable." There. That made sense.

Harry let out a snort. "Right. I see you as a therapist. As a father confessor. We have a student/teacher relationship. Or maybe a doctor/patient one." Another snort. "Tell me another one, Snape, because I'm not buying this one."

"Mr. Potter." There was no hint of humor in Snape's voice. The tone was one rarely heard even in the Potions classroom; the rage there bordering on murderous. Glaring at Harry, he said, "You're out of line."

For someone who had lived through half a dozen attempts for his life, Harry seemed to have poor survival instincts. He didn't budge, didn't even look embarrassed or scared. "No. I'm not. We're not in the classroom, Snape, and I'm not trying to be a disrespectful pest." There was actually a hint of a smile on his lips again. "Even though you probably think I'm succeeding even without trying."

"I see." The lack of apology didn't really surprise Snape. People usually didn't stick around long enough to actually say they were sorry. He was however astonished of the way Harry spoke. It wasn't the first time he'd contradicted his words.

Never before had he sounded like this, serious and honest. Not arguing for the sake of arguments.

Snape closed his eyes, wishing he was back in the cottage. He didn't want this, any of this. Maybe offering his help -- or accepting Harry's request for it, he couldn't really tell anymore -- had been a mistake from the beginning. He didn't want to know Harry Potter as a person, didn't want to see behind the mask he seemed to wear. His life had been complicated enough before this whole mess.

The story of his life. Never simple, never really peaceful. He was always surrounded by idiots, or the dark demons of his own past. He had enough trouble with that.

He did not need this.

"You know, this isn't about me fancying you. Not really." Harry ignored the rather cold silence, and went on, "You can't really make me hate you. I know you, Snape, and I still like you."

For some reason that was even more incomprehensible than the kiss. Snape wondered if Harry was a total masochist. He had never shown him anything but scorn. Having the idiot tell him he didn't hate him anymore had been bad enough. This was definitely worse. Harry liked him? Why on earth?

Since Snape didn't say anything, Harry said quietly, "And I kind of thought you don't exactly hate me anymore."

There was no answer to that. The silence was in a way as revealing as words would be. If Harry had been wrong, Snape would have undoubtedly hurried to deny it.

Snape felt a surge of irrational anger at that. He didn't want the idiot to be able to read him like this. He would never admit not hating his students; he hated each and every one of those brainless children. Loathed all the unthinking people milling around him. Could barely stand most of the Order, knowing that they had no idea of what they were up against.

He didn't want to acknowledge that Harry Potter was any different from the others, but couldn't really deny it. This wasn't what he'd expected when he'd agreed to listen to Harry.

He should have seen it coming. From the first moment he realized the young man was more than what his reputation told him. That even if he had no talent with potions, he wasn't an empty headed celebrity after all and had hopes and fears, most of which reminded him of his own.

It had been clear from the beginning. Snape sighed. He'd done this to himself, and now he had to figure a way out of this whole mess. "I do understand your worries about friendship." The word came out with a moue of distaste. He'd never needed friends, the word reminding him of those who had used it to describe a bond more horrible than any slavery.

He was still not thinking about Lucius Malfoy.

"I'm not willing to talk about it right now. Nor am I willing to talk about whatever hormonal feelings you may harbor towards me." Snape knew he couldn't continue ignoring the topic forever, but wasn't going to address it without thinking it through. He was not a Gryffindor who barged into everything unprepared.

"Okay." Harry wouldn't argue with that. Now that he'd got what he wanted, he was not going to push his luck. He'd said Snape's presence in his life would be enough, and it would have to be.

"However," Snape said, wishing they could just leave it at that. He knew Harry and knew that it would fester between them if he didn't say something. "I do believe we should address the matter later on."

Harry couldn't say anything. He just stared at Snape. Did he understand correctly?

"If you are still eager to talk about this, we shall. But in private. I would ask you not to make another scene." Not that Snape would ask. He was telling.

"Sure. Of course!" It would be all right to wait, as long as it was clear that eventually, they would indeed talk about this. "Can we still... You know. Talk?"

Knowing quite well what Harry meant by that, Snape nodded. He had little choice on the matter now. After allowing himself to get into this mess, he had to deal with what happened next. "Yes."

That was enough.

There were no words exchanged between them as they walked back to the cottage. Snape was in no mood to make comments about anything. Finally noticing how cold it was, Harry simply needed to get inside as soon as possible. The silence was mellow again, holding no secrets or hidden dark emotions.

For some reason it made Harry feel even better than their agreement.

It was quiet in the cottage. No lights shone from upstairs. The lack of anyone lurking in the shadows waiting to see where they had gone was definitely a relief.

Night time wasn't made for big scenes or explanations. It was perfect for quiet contemplation or hiding. This time there would not be any reason for either, at least for Harry. He was covering a yawn already, finally able to feel physical weariness as well. It had been a long day and he was perfectly willing to go to bed.

He was quite certain that this time he wouldn't spend hours tossing and turning and staring at the clock. His dreams would probably not haunt him either.

"Good night, Snape." Harry didn't move any closer to the man, but let some of the fondness shine in his gaze.

He smiled at the way Snape glared at him, knowing it wasn't disgust that made him snort. Feeling warm, he turned around and climbed the stairs.

Slipping into the room he shared with Ron, Harry leaned against the door for a while. His mind was a jumble of hopes and fears, and he still couldn't fully comprehend what had just happened. Life was an endless string of disappointments. Having something go right was a shock.

Snape didn't hate him, wasn't going to push him away anymore and would allow him in his rooms again. It was enough to make him want to shout for joy.

"Harry?"

Startling at the sound, Harry padded away from the doorway. "Sorry. I hope I didn't wake you up." He'd thought Ron was asleep by now.

"No. Wasn't asleep." A brief moment of groping sounds as Ron reached out for his wand was followed by, "Lumos. Ouch. My eyes."

The bright light forced Harry to blink. It had somehow been easier in the dark. He had never been afraid of the lack of illumination, darkness feeling like a second home by now.

"What was all the noise about?" Mumbling it out, Ron peeked from under the covers. He'd tried to get some sleep, but had been interrupted by some yelling and then a loud bang. Since Harry was so obviously a part of what was going on, he'd decided to wait till he was back before drifting off.

Harry sat on his bed. He was confused about what had just happened, mainly since it had gone better than he'd ever dreamed. "I..." He shook his head slightly, knowing that he couldn't say that out loud. "I had a fight with Snape."

That definitely jolted Ron wide awake. "What?" He searched for signs of Harry slowly turning into a toad. There was no evidence of such a thing happening in front of his eyes.

"We had a... misunderstanding. Nothing serious. We kind of fixed it." Harry didn't know what would happen tomorrow, but at least he knew he and Snape were still talking.

"But..." There had been no rumors about anyone ever really arguing with Snape. Ron remembered some of the words exchanged between Harry and the disgusting creep, but none of them had ever ended with them 'fixing it'. There had been detention. An unconscious Potion master lying on the floor in the Shrieking Shack. Once even Harry running out of the class. Never this. "You had a fight with Snape?"

"Sort of."

Ron couldn't believe it, even though the sounds from the downstairs had sounded unpleasant. Harry had fought with Snape? "I can't believe you're still alive." He sounded absolutely serious.

The words brought a smile on Harry's lips, a bubbling feeling tingling inside him. It was something he'd felt all too rarely recently. Not fighting against the mirth, he chuckled out loud, finally squirming with laughter. It was an utterly happy sound with no traces of darkness.

Yes. He was alive. And he felt good.

---

Part 15

Ron was certain he was slowly turning into Harry's mother.

There were so many things he'd been aware of lately that it had changed the way he was thinking about Harry; not as a simple friend, but something more complicated. All the Order meetings where people had whispered about the importance of Harry Potter must have played with his head.

He couldn't think of another reason for his relief to see Harry smiling and actually eating his food instead of playing with it.

Maybe now they could actually do something together again. Ron didn't like the silences, when Harry was so obviously lost in his own thoughts and ignoring everything around him. He was used to having people around him, loud people laughing and teasing each other. Compared to that, this damn cottage could have been a cemetery.

Not exactly a good thought.

Munching some of his breakfast, Ron looked around the table. His gaze barely brushed over Malfoy. Watching that git smirk at him would just ruin the beginning of the day.

He paid a little more attention to Snape. Intrigued of Harry's claim of having a fight with their Potions master, he wanted to see if there was any sign of homicidal rage in the man. There wasn't. How odd.

It wasn't as if he resented the lack of hostility between his friend and the git. Maybe now Snape wouldn't just give them all an F when he finally graded their exams.

That was about the only thing Ron truly resented these days; the way Snape refused to hurry with their essays. It was a very good and efficient form of torture, keeping them all waiting.

It didn't look like Snape was going to work on the exams today either. After finishing breakfast, he walked to the living room and settled there with a book. Ron muttered a few curses from under his breath so that no one could really hear. Damn the man!

This meant more waiting.

He trailed after Harry upstairs, noticing that his friend's right hand was slightly swollen only when he dug into a small bag and then pulled out a small jar of something he spread on his bruised knuckles. "You hurt your hand last night?" It came out more accusingly than he'd thought. His mind was already conjuring up violent images. That bastard!

"Sort of." Looking up, Harry shrugged the question off. "It's nothing big." He hadn't even remembered the whole thing before seeing Snape's pointed look earlier. When he'd focused on his hand, he'd realized that it actually hurt.

He'd wondered if he should ask Snape if he could give him something for it, but decided against it. It might be awkward.

Determined not to make things any worse, he'd chosen on the salve he carried in his trunk. It had always come handy for bruises he'd got in Quidditch practices.

Ron stared at Harry's knuckles, scowling as the bruises faded under the ointment. He didn't want to push, really didn't, but he couldn't help asking, "Are you sure?"

"Yes, I'm sure." Not able to feel annoyance at such obvious concern, Harry smiled. "And no."

"Huh?"

"Snape didn't do this. I did." It was the real question behind the other one anyway. Harry didn't want Ron to worry about him when there was absolutely no need.

It made Ron sigh with relief. He had absolutely no idea what he could have done if Snape was somehow abusing his friend. A chilly thought. In the pureblood tradition he might be considered an adult, but he knew he had no chance against their Potions master in a fight. "You clumsy bugger." It did look like Harry had hit something hard, but joking about such things never hurt anyone.

Feeling the salve already work, Harry flexed his hand. "Thanks for the concern." Enough sarcasm there to make it an answering joke.

Ron made an extremely rude gesture that was followed by relieved laughter. "All right. So what do you want to do today? More brooding?"

"No." Definitely not. "Whatever you want is fine."

Turned out Ron didn't have anything specific in mind. It was cloudy, and it seemed it might rain any minute now. Getting out of the cottage for some fresh air was out of question then. Since Harry seemed anxious to get back downstairs, Ron sighed and suggested they might as well go to the living room and play something.

Not feeling any need to be completely humiliated again, Harry grabbed a deck of cards from his table and then hurried out of their room. He wondered if Snape was still in the living room.

Raindrops started to splash against the windows as they reached downstairs, and the clouds were darkening the sky. A voice called out "Lumos!" as Harry stepped into the living room. It was clear to see the grin on his face in the bright magical light.

Ignoring the grumpy glare Ron cast on the other side of the room, Harry went to sit on the floor. He didn't mind sharing the room with Snape and Malfoy. Not at all.

He dealt the cards, concentrating on the few wizarding games he knew. With Malfoy here, he didn't want to embarrass Ron by beating him in the Muggle games that were more familiar to him. He didn't mind losing in front of Snape. If he did, he would never play wizarding chess with Ron in public.

It was a pleasant way to spend the morning. The quiet conversation with Ron was enough to keep his mind busy, so he didn't have to spend all his time trying not to watch Snape sit there.

He could still feel the dark gaze on him from time to time.

Snape watched in silence as the youngsters busied themselves with games and books. It was a familiar sight, Weasley and Harry concentrating on a game while young Malfoy hid behind a book. He could see Malfoy flinch a little as the shutters banged against the wall as a gust of wind threw them open.

That was unexpected. He'd never thought someone like Draco Malfoy would be afraid of a simple storm. The boy hid it well, but he could still see the tension in him.

Pushing that thought to the back of his mind, he turned his attention back to the two Gryffindors.

He didn't pay much attention to Weasley. There was nothing intriguing about the boy; he was just like all of his family, a simple fool who probably didn't have an original thought in his head. Snape was not going to give him the benefit of doubt even for his loyalty to his friend.

All idiots seemed to be loyal to Harry Potter. Nothing new there.

Doing a much better job than Malfoy pretending to actually read the book he was holding, Snape kept his gaze on Harry. He had already spent hours thinking about him after the completely outrageous scene he'd made last night.

Life had always thrown nearly impossible obstacles into his path, but he'd never in his most idiotic dreams -- or nightmares -- seen this coming.

Facing with Harry's ludicrous notions of friendship and teenage desire, he was determined to treat this matter calmly. Ignoring it was obviously out of question, for Harry would simply pester him more. He didn't know when his glare had lost its edge with this foolish creature, but obviously it had.

He was pretty certain he knew where this all would lead. At least he was very familiar with a part of it, the easiest part. No doubt Harry would want something more complicated.

Snape changed his position slightly, letting a haughty expression spread on his face at the way Weasley jumped. It was good to see at least one Gryffindor could still be controlled by mere expressions. Unlike the other, who had the extremely unfortunate tendency to grin at him.

No matter how he'd tried to think this insanity through, Snape had to admit he was unable to reach any conclusions. There were too many things he was completely unaware of; mostly teenage notions like Harry's thoughts, however simple those might be.

He'd told Harry he didn't want to discuss the matter; still uncomfortable with anything surrounding that pathetic attempt of a kiss he'd prefer to forget all about it for the next fifty years or so. Harry on the other hand looked expectant, as if waiting for him to say something right now.

The idiot would probably not allow him more than a few days to think about it before getting nervous and doing something stupid.

Silently cursing the Gryffindor stubbornness, Snape turned the page. Everything would be so much simpler if he could find the familiar rage inside of him, if he could believe that yelling at Harry and telling him to leave him alone would work. He doubted harsh words could work, even if he could say something evil enough right now.

Harry had not made much sense last night. He was not playing by the rules anymore, never had, really. This time, Snape wasn't certain he even recognized the game. Parts of it were very familiar, but others were incomprehensible. How on earth was he supposed to think about what to do when he didn't know exactly what they would have to deal with?

There was only one way to deal with this nonsense.

If Harry really was as mature as he claimed -- which Snape highly doubted but was for the time being willing to entertain the notion -- he would be able to discuss this in a mature manner.

Content with his decision, Snape turned his attention to his book, and continued to read. He didn't really pay attention to the sound of Weasley and Harry talking nonsense.

The storm passed quickly, and by lunchtime, it wasn't really raining anymore. A few droplets of water dribbled down, making no sound as they hit the windows. Extinguishing the lights in the living room, Snape left his book on the couch as he headed towards the dining area. He wasn't really hungry, but years spent in Hogwarts had tuned his body to crave nourishment at certain times; a thing that always managed to annoy him.

Order and schedule were only acceptable when he had some control over them.

Snape ate slowly, enjoying every bite. Finishing with his meal, he poured himself another cup of tea and sat back, watching the teenagers. It was clear that his gaze made two of them nervous. As he had guessed, the third one simply went on eating.

By the time Eppy came to collect the dishes, Snape was convinced waiting was unnecessary. He did not want to be a part of any games. If Harry wanted honesty, he would be honest. Blunt even.

"Mr. Malfoy." Even though the boy would understand his glance, Snape said, "I assume you can manage washing the dishes without any incidents?" He wanted to make it certain there weren't any.

He was not blind and knew well what was going on with the youngsters. Remembering how Harry's actions had come as a complete surprise, he amended that he was aware of what was going on with Malfoy and Weasley. The way his young ward was behaving was a clear memory from his own youth. It was none of his business as long as no one got hurt.

Still, he did not want anything to happen now. Didn't need any more distractions.

Draco was already up, ready to follow Eppy. "Of course, sir." He didn't look at Ron. Snape's tone plainly said this was not the time for fun and games.

The way the Slytherin disappeared in the kitchen made Ron almost grateful to Snape. It would be nice not to have to suffer the glances and smirks for a while.

He was positively beaming as he pushed his chair back. "So, Harry. Ready for a rematch?" He would definitely enjoy the afternoon!

Hesitating only for a moment, Snape turned to Harry before he could say anything. "Actually, I have a task for Potter. Go and get yourself a basket. I need some aconite and more heather roots." It was not a request but a command.

Harry nodded. "Sure." He didn't know what Snape had planned, but decided not to ask yet. He rushed to his room, grabbing a small basket that held his clean underwear and then unceremoniously dumped the pants on his bed.

Trying not to look too eager to obey, he almost bounced his way back downstairs.

"You can't go out there alone," Ron muttered quietly from the doorway. He looked at Snape suspiciously. Obviously their fight last night wasn't as over as Harry had let him believe, 'cause this was clearly a way to punish. Why else would he order Harry around like this?

Before Harry could say anything, Snape sighed, "Mr. Weasley. If you think I would trust you and Potter to harvest weeds from the garden, you're sorely mistaken. Aconite," seeing the blank look on Ron, he muttered, "monkshood, wolfsbane -- is extremely poisonous as any first year should know."

It made Ron bristle. Of course he knew that! He just couldn't understand why the man needed the damn shrub now. And if he needed it so bad, why didn't he go and get it himself?

"So who is coming with me then?" Harry wondered if this was a way Snape was making sure he wouldn't interrupt his thinking. He could handle harvesting plants with Malfoy. Except that Malfoy was busy in the kitchen.

Snape couldn't suppress another sigh. "Who do you think, Potter?" Without other explanations, he went to grab his robes.

Trying very hard not to show how the words made him both excited and anxious, Harry followed suit.

He refused to meet Ron's gaze, knowing his friend was worried about him and probably angry as well. There was nothing he could say to ease his worries.

It was a bit windy outside, but otherwise it was quite nice. The sun was shining from the now clear sky and the damp grass was the only evidence of the previous storm. A perfect day for a walk in the woods. Or what counted as woods here.

Snape didn't seem to be in any hurry, walking amongst the plants and pointing out things for Harry to gather. Most of the herbs were ordinary, used in everyday potions, some were a bit more obscure. Harry was surprised to see that Snape was actually looking for the aconite. Finding it, he cut it himself, obviously not trusting Harry to be careful enough with it.

Cutting plants was pleasant. Harry didn't even have to think about what he was doing, since he simply followed Snape's lead. He'd read enough about plants for the N.E.W.T.s to steer away from ordinary weeds.

He wondered why had Snape wanted him to accompany him on this. There had to be a reason, there always was one with the man. He doubted Snape had made any decisions about what they had talked about earlier, so maybe this was a test on his resolve; to see if he could control his teenage urges or something.

Determined not to make things worse, he simply followed Snape, enjoying the nice day.

Snape was keeping a sharp eye on the bushes, his gaze never missing a plant. Some were identified for later use, some were collected immediately. He'd always enjoyed harvesting no matter how some Potions masters thought it was a waste of time. At least this way he could be sure no idiot had messed with his ingredients.

He refused to admit that he actually liked the simplicity of collecting plants. It was almost like making the simplest potions even Longbottom couldn't ruin.

Usually, he only went out to gather potions ingredients during the full moon. Those trips were always quiet, solitary. The only person he'd ever seen on those times was Sibyll Trelawney, and fortunately, she was so enthralled with her not so secret obsession, she hardly ever noticed him skulking in the shadows.

The silence was a part of the appeal of those nocturnal excursions. It was strange to be here now, in the bright daylight, but at least the peace and quiet were the same.

Harry chose that particular moment to step on a twig. The loud sound made Snape glare at him poisonously.

"Sorry."

At least he had the brains to actually mutter it quietly. Snape nodded slightly. He couldn't think of anything to say. The weird awkwardness he'd felt in Harry was so obviously spreading, or maybe he didn't know whom to address anymore. He suddenly realized that very soon, this young man would indeed be seen as an adult and be forced to take action most people probably couldn't even imagine, no matter how they all saw him as their hope.

That would elevate him far above a simple Potions master. It would make him stand amongst people like Albus Dumbledore, holding their world together with his will power and wand.

To be quite honest, Snape wasn't as appalled by the notion as he had been only a few months earlier, when Harry Potter had been nothing but a brainless child making a mess in the classroom and an even bigger mess loitering around with his friends.

He didn't know exactly when that had changed. It had started at Hogwarts, with the long meetings where the youngest of the Order's inner circle had actually showed some signs of a mind. He had still seen Harry as nothing more than a mindless youngster when he'd come to his rooms for help; not as a pathetic child, but definitely not as a mature person with whom he could actually discuss.

That transition had happened so gradually he couldn't pinpoint it to a certain moment. All he knew was that he couldn't think of Harry as a sniveling brat anymore.

The contrast between the three teenagers was enormous. Snape knew he would probably call Ronald Weasley an idiot child even when the redhead turned fifty. It would take a miracle to have him grow up. Young Malfoy was a bit more mature, probably because he was raised to take on responsibilities from early on.

Yet he looked awfully young to Snape, young and lost. He would have to guide him to the right direction. His ward, his responsibility.

Unlike Harry. It had started like that, with that ridiculous life boon over his head. Doing his best to distract that idiot Quirrel and the odd basilisk and werewolf had been his penance, his way of repaying James Potter. Everything after that was... complicated.

Snape hid his snort of disgust by cutting some fern.

Shoving the cut fern into the basket Harry was still carrying, he tried very hard not to dwell on thoughts about those dark years when Voldemort had returned and he'd had to make some hard choices.

Everything he'd done and seen had only strengthened his resolve to bring the Dark Lord down and to make sure no one had to suffer because of him ever again. Yes, that had been one of his thoughts that night when the boy wonder had first come to his room with his worries.

He wondered if he should cling to the thought now. Back then, he had reasoned he might as well listen to Harry so that he would not succumb under his own private darkness like so many already had. It was tempting to think about that now, to agree to whatever was wanted of him, using that excuse.

Snape shrugged the thought off before it was even fully formed. He refused to use such blatant lies to avoid confrontation with anyone. He was going to be honest -- at least to himself -- if he was indeed going to allow Harry to...

Unable to finish the thought, he glared at Harry again, glad that his attention was on a small rock formation on the ground and he couldn't see his glare. What was the thing he was supposed to be contemplating? What did this annoying young man want from him anyway?

Was it simply the need for physical contact? Here, removed from the world, he was probably the only person Harry could turn to in his desire for a release. Snape had kept an eye on his friendship with Weasley and knew there was nothing there that even hinted about sexual interest.

He wasn't exactly surprised.

Still, he couldn't help wondering just what exactly did Harry want. Sex? Something else? He couldn't really tell. Nothing he did made real sense.

Maybe it really was just teenage hormones. The drive for physical intimacy.

Snape almost let out another snort at the thought. There had never been anything really intimate in the sexual act. It was sometimes enjoyable, usually either painful or humiliating or both. A release, nothing more. Intimacy was something completely different.

He didn't want to think about what he considered intimate. His space, his privacy. Both of which he was already sharing with Harry Potter.

The basket was full now, and there was really nothing else Snape needed to find out here. He would have a lot to do in his room with all the plants to clean and prepare. There were potions he would need to brew, more thinking to do. Except that he didn't have enough knowledge on which to base his thinking on. He preferred to analyze things properly, not wonder and guess.

Still marveling at the way the day had turned out to be so fine, Harry was keeping his gaze on the sky. He liked being with Snape here. It was mellow somehow, the space between them not filled with the gut wrenching tension anymore.

He didn't know why Snape had wanted him to accompany him here. Probably because he knew that if he tried to go out on his own, he'd follow him. It might be daytime but he didn't like the idea of anyone wandering out here alone.

It was a sign that Snape wasn't going to avoid him anymore. Relieved, Harry was quite willing to follow him on whatever menial task. He could be quiet and show he could be more than an annoyance.

Now that they had this, he could try to ignore the other thing. He could live with desire. Dealing with unrequited lust couldn't be much harder than dealing with unrequited emotions. He'd had plenty of practice when he'd been younger.

This was nice; walking, gathering herbs together.

"Are you still determined to have a conversation about your hormonal behavior?" The question came with no preambles.

Harry froze. This was definitely not what he'd anticipated, though he probably should have. Once Snape's mind was set on something, he usually attacked the topic and didn't let go until he'd dissected it like a pile of shrivelfig.

He didn't have to think about it for a moment. "Yes." What else could he do? Sit alone in the dark every night and wonder about the whole thing? He had tried that so often and it had never worked.

"All right." Placing his sickle back in his belt, Snape looked around and then continued walking towards the stream. He didn't want to return to the cottage now, feeling that it was more sensible to talk here, outdoors, where they could be certain of their privacy. "And you still..."

"Yes." It was so obvious what Snape meant, though he did cast a rather annoyed look at Harry for interrupting. Ignoring the glare, Harry shrugged. "I'm not that fickle. Yeah, I still fancy you."

It was strange how something in him drove him to make these comments. He felt a bit uncomfortable, and a lot embarrassed, but was determined to overcome that. If he ever wanted Snape to see him beyond a stupid brat, he couldn't afford behaving like one.

Snape's expression was completely unreadable. "What exactly do you mean with this crush of yours?" He sounded like he was asking Harry to explain some theory or a thought that had been troubling him.

"I..." Blinking, Harry stared at Snape. He wondered just what exactly did he want to hear. Talking about this was weird.

Not as weird as all the other occasions he'd talked to Snape. Compared to some of those first nights, this was nothing. At least now he felt like he was able to actually form coherent sentences.

"What do I mean? I mean I like you. Fancy you." He smiled at that.

"Very amusing, Potter." Snape didn't exactly sound amused. "Now what do you want to do about it? You are obviously not content with keeping your crush to yourself. I would like to know what is it exactly that you want."

Harry had to think about that for a moment. His gaze darkened as he tried to make a list of everything he might actually want. "I want... Lots of things." He saw the way Snape looked at that and amended, "I'm not talking about sex. Only sex. I want things like this."

"Explain." Snape was truly baffled. He could understand sexual attraction, it was familiar to him, but this made no sense. "Things like what? Talking?" It could not be that simple.

"Yes. Talking. Walking together like this. Spending evenings together. Things." Harry didn't know how to explain it better. He didn't really want anything different from what they already had. He wanted to add to it, not change it.

Snape sighed. It was exactly what he'd feared. "Gryffindor emotionalism and useless sentimentality." It came out almost as a curse.

Trying not to laugh out loud, Harry nodded. "You can call it that, I guess. I'd say companionship." He didn't want to think about it too much. Companionship was more than he could ever have even dreamed of; something he could actually share with someone instead of just taking. Or being taken.

There was a small silence, as Snape thought about it. He seemed to accept the term, not making any comments about it.

They walked on, strolling slowly towards the stream. Harry liked the easy way they could still share the silence, glad that they hadn't lost that after all. No matter what his body wanted, this was the most important thing.

It was almost as if Snape could read his thoughts. "You said 'not only sex'. I assume you mean you want a sexual relationship as well."

Harry nodded. Yes, he definitely wanted a sexual relationship with Snape. "I do want it. But if you say no, it's all right. I can deal with the rest of it." How funny he'd never even thought about the fact that Snape might not share his view of sex.

He wondered if he should say something about it. Maybe he should have asked Ron more about what was seen as the norm in the wizarding world, if there was a difference between older, pureblood families and the rest of them. Saying things like that now would sound idiotic, so he clamped his mouth shut and waited.

There was no reply. Snape didn't want to share his thoughts about physical intimacy with Harry. It was too revealing. He didn't even want to think about the whole thing, the comfortable silences between them, relaxing in Harry's presence or even trusting him to some degree. It was ridiculous and had nothing to do with this.

He definitely didn't want to discuss about it with Harry.

"Snape?" Voice surprisingly quiet, Harry asked, "If I told you I really need it. Need this. Would you then shag me?" He didn't have to explain it further, they both knew what he meant.

Snape was quiet for some time. He thought Harry deserved an honest answer to this. Collecting his thoughts, he finally nodded curtly. "I said I'd be there if you need me. If you really need physical contact in the form of sex to gain some balance, you can have it." How strange that the idea wasn't half as disgusting as becoming someone's shoulder had been.

"I kind of thought you'd say that." At least now he knew.

It was almost tempting; an easy way to initiate sex. Harry knew it would also be the way to make sure there would never be anything really intimate between them.

He didn't want that. Mindless sex was something he could have with pretty much anyone; these few years of being regarded as a consenting adult had proven him that more often than he wanted to think of. He could live without that. But he wasn't sure he wanted to go on without Snape there to simply be with him.

Waiting patiently for Harry's decision, Snape tried to understand why this felt so important to him. He was used to performing unpleasant duties, had learned to block out all emotions decades ago and do what was expected of him. This would be no different. He had survived much worse than simple sexual acts with Harry Potter and at least now he was certain there would be no lingering after effects, no nightmares of pain and terror that would drive him to his potions.

Something in Harry's words had hit their mark. Snape had always dismissed talks of friendship, he had never known a 'friend' who wasn't seeking for something to gain from their acquaintance. This sounded different, more dangerous. This was a game he'd never learned how to play.

"I don't really need you like that." Harry knew that with his words, he was probably throwing away his only chance of ever getting that close to Snape. It didn't matter. He was not about to lie about this. "If you say you're disgusted by the whole thing, I'll be fine. Your choice."

That definitely caught Snape's attention. Yes, he was familiar with choices and consequences.

He was also impressed by Harry's choice of words. At least he knew not to ask if he wanted this. "I am not disgusted by the prospect of sharing a bed with you, if that's what you mean." It was the truth, but not the whole truth. "I do not however find your age and the fact that you are a Gryffindor especially attractive either."

Harry couldn't help feeling a shiver go through his whole body at the words. They sounded like an insult, but were actually the biggest compliment he'd ever received. Snape would definitely not shag him because he was the great Harry Potter or the Quidditch hero.

Looking at Snape, he moved a bit closer, not really sure what he was about to do.

"No." It was perfectly obvious where this would lead. Snape raised a hand to stall Harry, who once again had that ridiculous look in his eyes. "Absolutely not. You will not do that again. I forbid it."

Harry recoiled back, realizing he had actually planned on yet another insane kiss. He was too dismayed to even blush. Maybe he really was just a hormonal teenager.

There had been something in Snape's words that had made him sway closer, maybe it was the calm acceptance of his feelings and desire. Harry couldn't think of anyone else he could have had this conversation with, which was actually inane because before this spring, Snape would have been absolutely the last on his list. "Why?" The problem didn't seem to be anything he might have imagined. At least there was some mutual attraction. He was certain of it.

"Because I don't kiss children. I don't kiss my students. And I certainly do not kiss idiots."

Harry nodded slowly. "All right. But I'm not really a kid anymore. You know that." It was said so calmly it wasn't really even an argument. "And I'm not exactly your student anymore." He heard the intake of breath and hurried to continue before Snape could say anything, "All right. You're still my teacher. At least until you finish grading the exams. After that, things will be different."

"Only if you pass the test." It was rather lame, and Snape knew it.

Nothing in the whole world would stop Harry from hoping for the best. "Yes. But you said yourself that I'd pass if I study hard enough, and I've been studying. So that's all right. About kissing idiots..."

Snape could already guess what was coming next. He refused to give in, though. There were some things he was willing to label as unavoidable, but agreeing with Harry was not one of those things.

"You'll just have to get used to it."

It was almost a challenge. Snape chose to ignore it. "I shall not allow anything to disturb my privacy. If you think I will ever adopt any of the mannerisms so clearly seen in your peers when they court each other, you truly are insane. I shall not be made a fool of."

Harry shook his head so hard he wondered how he didn't sprain anything. "I wouldn't do that." The need for privacy was one of the reasons he felt comfortable with Snape.

"Being the object of your romantic aspirations is not one of my biggest dreams." Snape's tone spoke volumes of the understatement of his words. "However, if you choose to pursue this..." He saw Harry open his mouth and held up a hand. "I would have to ask you not to do this for as long as you are my student."

The wind was blowing harder now, but Harry wasn't feeling the cold. He could only stare at Snape. "You're not saying no?" He knew it wasn't the same as agreeing to any of this, but that was probably just because of the way Snape was.

"No. I'm not saying no."

Harry didn't even try to fight the silly grin that spread on his face.

"Futile as it may be, I will trust you to control such hormonal behavior until a later date when I am no longer responsible for your learning." Snape didn't sound like he was convinced about Harry's ability to control himself. "In case you find these urges too hard to resist, I can always offer you a neutering potion." There was a note of finality in his voice, as if he considered the subject closed.

Not knowing if that was a joke or not -- one never knew with Snape and there had been a rumor of such a potion circulating around for ages -- Harry just kept grinning. He didn't care if that made him look like an idiot.

Snape seemed to think so, considering the words he muttered next. Harry didn't mind. He was used to the grumbling and it was one of the things that sort of made him happy, not that he'd ever tell Snape that.

They continued the slow walk, following the stream for a moment before turning back to the cottage. Snape was already going through the inventory in his mind, wondering if he needed to collect some heather or not. Deciding he could always come back for it if he needed to, he let the thought go. Now that he didn't need to concentrate on trivialities, he could focus on important things; like his potions.

Harry was content to just walk beside him. Enjoying the sun on his face.

---

Part 16

It wasn't really dark yet.

The sun was setting, turning the whole world into amber and gold. It looked nice, the horizon almost burning.

Draco sat on his bed, staring off into the distance. He hadn't really ever watched the sunset before. Not like this, in peace, all alone in his room, focusing on the magnificent sight.

He was a bit amazed of how profound it felt. Like it was actually somehow meaningful to sit here and look at something that was an everyday occurrence. He'd read about this, of course; sunsets, sunrises, people wasting time on staring at the sky, wishing upon a star. It had always sounded completely ridiculous to him.

Yet here he was.

It wasn't completely intentional. He hadn't just decided he'd retire early so he could watch the sun set, he wasn't that frivolous.

He's spent the day inside, as always, mostly reading. Playing solitaire with the cards Weasley and Potter had left in the living room when they'd gone out for a walk. He'd even volunteered to wash the dishes after dinner just so that he would have something to do.

They had been here for weeks. At first Draco hadn't really cared what they did and what happened. The day he'd turned against the Dark Lord -- and he was still in awe of how easily Potter called him by his name -- could have been his last. That thought had carried him for a long time.

Now he was just bored.

He'd watched the Gryffindors study for the Potions exam, and felt a bit envious. They actually seemed to fill their time with reading. To him, it was more about revising things he'd already known.

It had always been a part of his problem. Not that he'd ever really thought of it as a problem before. He'd always had everything he'd ever needed or wanted. Money could buy almost anything and he'd never lacked funds. His upbringing had focused on duty and he'd always listened what his father had said.

Life in Hogwarts had been full of excitement. Not the studying; he'd always focused on the subjects, listened in class and done his homework. He didn't have to spend all his free time reading. Evenings had been full of intrigue, politics and scheming. Figuring out how to win the Quidditch Cup and the House Cup, or if the chances of winning were slim, they had to think of a way to prevent Gryffindor from winning. That had been serious business.

Scheming inside the Slytherin House had been more recreational. Everybody knew the games, everybody played.

The situation here was completely different. No need to scheme for a high position amongst them, since it was already clear that Snape was indeed the person everyone had to obey here. There were no one to scheme against, nothing to gain.

Draco missed some of the old times, some of his housemates. The way they had all been when he'd been younger, when everything had been relatively innocent.

At least then he'd had people to talk to. Things to do.

Earlier today, he'd had to spend hours alone while Potter and Weasley had frolicked outside. They'd gone swimming again, leaving the cottage looking rumpled and coming back refreshed. Looking disgustedly happy.

There was a change. For some time both of them had looked sad or grumpy, and at least then Draco hadn't felt like he was totally alone in his misery.

He was tired of spending his time alone. Snape was always there to assist him or accompany him outside, but he didn't feel like he could really ask him to go and make sure he was safe while he bathed or simply walked around. Whenever the Head of his House offered, he felt obliged to decline. He didn't want to be a charity case.

It wouldn't be so annoying if he didn't have to watch Potter and Weasley. They didn't even do anything special, but they had each other to talk with. He couldn't really remember when he'd last talked with someone. People talked to him these days, not with him.

He could usually ignore the things that went on around him, but tonight he had been too tired to watch the others interact. Not only the friendship between the two annoying Gryffindors; even though it was petty, he couldn't help resenting Potter for the easy way he interacted with Snape. After days of weird silence, he was once again making comments to him, relaxing in his company.

It jarred Draco's nerves. Felt completely wrong.

It was best to stay up here. He refused to admit that he was hiding or anything, he simply needed some space and time alone.

A sarcastic smile curved his lips up. Why was it so damn important for him to keep up appearance, when no one was here to see or hear? It wasn't as if even he believed his own thoughts. He was totally miserable here, with the loneliness and boredom that were driving him insane.

The menial work didn't help; cooking and cleaning and carrying wood. He was cooped up in a tiny hovel with two people he hated the most and the only person in the whole world he might respect. One lousy house elf, who was probably older than Dumbledore and madder than Trelawney.

He almost wished the school term was over already.

There was nothing for him to really look forward to. Returning to Hogwarts meant more exams and then... Then nothing. All his grand plans had disappeared, he really had no future. Hiding behind Snape's robes? Not exactly the glorious fate he'd imagined, but the reality.

His world would be about survival, and nothing more. It sounded sort of liberating at times. Bloody depressing too.

The sun had finally gone down, and it was dark now. Draco didn't really like the dark. He'd never known just exactly how dark it could be out there before that night he and Potter had been sent to the Forest with just a lantern and a coward of a dog to hold all the darkness away.

He was a creature of comfort. There was always plenty of light around the mansion -- where he would probably never go back again -- and Hogwarts. No such lights here. No real thick walls to keep the nature at bay.

Draco pushed all thoughts of the possibility of storms out of his mind. He was not going to spend the whole night trying to scare himself half to death!

It would be best if he simply went through his evening routines and then went to bed.

Padding downstairs quietly, he couldn't help casting an annoyed look at the living room. How long could two people play that blasted game anyway? Muttering quietly to himself, he walked out of the door, steeling himself as he approached the outhouse. To think that a while back he'd never even heard of such a thing.

He definitely wished he never had.

As he returned to the cottage, he was already feeling the lassitude spread all over him. How on earth could he be so tired all the time when he didn't really do anything? He didn't actually care. At least when he slept, he didn't have to think so much.

Passing the doorway again, he cast another look in the living room. What a homey scene. He almost snorted at that.

The hint of a sound made Weasley look up from the board and glare at him. Draco plastered the smirk immediately in place. This was good. Weasley had been avoiding looking at him lately, and the rarity of the moment simply made it so much sweeter.

His only real pleasure here; teasing Ron Weasley. He didn't even have to do much work to make him bristle. No words, not even gestures, just the smiles.

It did make him feel better, always had. This little game didn't even have to lead to anything, it probably never would, but it was an excellent way to keep the boredom away.

Draco's smirk deepened as he realized that both Potter and Snape were too busy to notice him standing here. That meant he could actually take this to another level. Quirking up an eyebrow, he stared at Weasley, challenging him silently.

The way the redhead almost choked on his next inhale was gratifying.

Slipping away from the doorway and walking to the stairs before his professor could focus his glare at him, Draco let the moody thoughts vanish. At least there was one thing he could count on. One thing that could make his life almost pleasurable.

Ron tried to cover his spluttering into a cough. He could tell by Harry's questioning look that he wasn't exactly successful. Hating the expression on Snape's face, he concentrated on the chess board. Damn it! Why were the Slytherins always here? It would be so much nicer to spend time alone with Harry.

He didn't understand why Malfoy was still trying to get to him. The exams were over. Distracting him didn't really do anything except... Well, distract him. And annoy him. There were evenings when he wanted nothing more than to use Malfoy as a mop and wash the floor with him.

Something curbed his violent urges these days. Probably Snape's presence. He would not allow anything to happen to one of his precious Slytherins, especially one as sneaky and slimy as Malfoy.

Lying must be a second nature to Malfoy; inventing things that didn't exist, saying things that weren't even close to truth. Ron didn't want him! Never had, never would. His behavior that day had been because of shock. He'd frozen in horror. Kissing Malfoy? Damn, he had high opinions of himself.

Stupid, lying, sneaky... Muttering softly under his breath, Ron turned his mind back to the game.

It was their second one this evening. He'd won the previous one and knew already he wouldn't be losing this one either.

He scratched his ankle absentmindedly as he contemplated his move. Realizing what he was doing, he moved his hand away from his leg. Damn. He couldn't help it. The small bite mark itched sometimes. It really shouldn't bother him anymore, but it did.

For some reason, the very unpleasant tingling feeling seemed to sum up his whole life at the moment.

This whole mess. Staying here with no way out. All they could really do was to wait. Do chores and play various games. He was not going to read another book for at least a month. He was so damn tired of staying here that there were moments when he just wanted to scream.

Ron took a deep breath, not even realizing that his hand was once again rubbing against his ankle. He could handle the weeks they'd still have to stay here. He could handle anything knowing it wasn't going to last forever.

Then he'd go back home and try to forget creeps like Malfoy even existed. Leaving school meant that he'd never have to see the git again. He could hardly wait.

"Your turn."

Hearing Harry's quiet voice made Ron startle, and he made his move after contemplating it for a moment. He couldn't believe he'd actually lost all track of the game thinking about the damn Slytherin again.

But what else could he really think? He was always around. They were always around.

He refused to even glance at the couch where Snape was still sitting and reading a book. Ron could bet it was about potions. He didn't seem to care about anything else.

Well, that was actually not true. He did seem to care about potions, and making their life completely miserable from their first year on. That one thing hadn't changed in the almost seven years they'd been in Hogwarts.

His mother had always taught him to think good of people. With Snape, that was an impossibility.

It was bad enough that one of them seemed to harbor delusions about the git. Bad? No, disastrous, probably even bordering insanity.

Ron didn't like the way Harry still cast careful looks at Snape and how he always seemed to be so damn aware of his presence. He didn't care what Harry said about things being all right between him and their professor. He wasn't going to believe it.

Not when he could plainly see the glares and Harry acting so strangely around Snape. Who wouldn't? Any sane person would try to stay away from the git.

Damn greasy, evil man. Why couldn't he just give back their exams and put them out of their misery already?

The loud slam of a book being shut abruptly startled Ron so that he almost fell face first into the chess board. The small pieces yelled rude comments to him as he straightened his back again and cast an angry look at the other side of the room.

He ignored the way Snape swooped up. He'd never been impressed by the whole billowing robe act. It was scary as hell when you were just a kid, then it had become just a routine.

"I assume you are capable of turning down the lights on your own before you go to bed." The timbre in Snape's voice indicated that he wasn't exactly certain they could manage.

It was things like that that annoyed Ron the most. Not the open barbs, but the veiled ones. You could never really say anything back at them and not sound rude. Not that he'd ever say anything back at his professor. No one did.

Well, Harry used to. He used to get really angry and say things no one else ever dreamed of uttering in Snape's presence. He didn't do that anymore. Of course he still said stuff to Snape, but it didn't sound as angry anymore.

He was probably just getting really good at hiding his emotions. Ron was actually proud of it. If he was in Harry's position, with the Order kind of following his words and all, he'd definitely make Snape suffer. Or at least make sure he didn't insult them anymore.

"Of course we are," Harry said, his expression in shadows so that Ron couldn't really see it. "You can count on us." His voice sounded cheery.

Ron could almost feel the icy glare on his skin, but didn't look up at Snape.

With a soft displeased sound, the professor gathered his books and then walked out of the room.

It was as if the shadows had disappeared. Breathing more easily, Ron looked at Harry, astonished to see a real smile on his lips. Sometimes he really didn't get his friend at all.

Still, he couldn't help wondering what the silly smile was all about. "You look like someone just gave you all the Chocolate Frogs in the world."

"What?" Blinking, Harry looked at him. "Oh. Don't talk about chocolate!"

Ron grinned, knowing that there had to be some chocolate left in the kitchen. They hadn't used everything from Eppy's little storage. "How about if we talk about getting some?" He wondered what the shocked look on Harry's face was all about. "I know where to find exactly what we need." When the shock just got worse, he added, "Chocolate. I want some. Now."

"Chocolate! Yes. Of course." Laughing at some private joke, Harry doubled almost in half. "Sure. Lead the way!"

Shushing him to be quiet or else someone would hear, Ron motioned him to follow him to the kitchen. Sneaking around with Harry in tow was exactly what he wanted to do now. Spending the rest of the evening talking about whatever and munching chocolate would make the day perfect.

---

Part 17

"Whoo! Look at that one fly!"

Harry grinned at Ron and then took a better hold on the gnome that was dangling upside down in his grasp. "They should have a de-gnoming Cup as well. You'd be in our national team, I bet."

"Thank you very much, Mr. Harry Quidditch Hero Potter!" Ron bowed deep. His gaze was already on the next gnome. He could throw that one even farther.

It was pretty weird how much fun they were both having. After a few days of playing every possible game they could think of -- including a weird wizarding version of tic tac toe -- Ron had been ready to do anything to get out of the cottage. Even go and do laundry.

There had been no need to go that far. Harry had been more than willing to go out on walks with him. It was probably a relief to spend time away from Malfoy and Snape. No matter how his friend might claim he didn't mind their presence, Ron could see the tension in him. This was much better. He was so glad he'd suggested de-gnoming the garden right after breakfast.

He'd noticed how wistful Malfoy had looked as they'd got ready to go out. It had just added to his feeling of satisfaction. Yes, this was a beautiful day indeed.

Harry swung his gnome around and let it go, watching it fly over the bushes. "Oh, bugger!" He'd never be as good as Ron at this. All the Weasleys had too much practice.

"Don't worry! It'll come to you." It wasn't as if they didn't have enough gnomes to practice on. Ron shook his head as he noticed that more of the small creatures were popping up from their underground lairs. They were just stupid. Grabbing another one, he added, "But I still think you'd best concentrate on Quidditch."

Harry wiped his hands on his robes. "Yeah. But just think how it would be if they really had a de-gnoming Cup! I could root for our team whenever Quidditch season's off. Or maybe I'd join Seamus in rooting for the Irish de-gnoming team! That would be fun."

"You little..." Letting out an offended squeal, Ron swung his gnome and then chased Harry around the small garden with the gnome swinging from side to side like a club.

Snape snorted at the sight, and then turned away from the window.

The cauldron he'd used earlier was drying in the corner, the small jars full of various potions for the outhouse lining a shelf with his sharpest cutting knives. He'd been idly cleaning up the room when the commotion from the outside had caught his attention. Forgetting all about sweeping the floor, he'd stood by the window watching Harry and Weasley toss confused gnomes out of the small garden.

No hard work should look like so much fun. It was probably some obscure Gryffindor trait. Snape was certain that most of the professional gnome exterminators were former Gryffindors. Or maybe Hufflepuffs.

Letting out a huffing sound he went to grab his broom and then swept the floor in silence. He didn't have anything else to do.

No more potions to brew, no things to organize. He could of course read for a while or even go and chase Eppy out of the kitchen and make some lunch. It would be amusing to see Weasley choke on the food again, like the last time when he'd heard that the soup he was devouring with gusto was indeed been made by Snape.

He didn't go to get a book. Neither did he go to the kitchen. He was not about to invent menial tasks to keep busy, when there was something he should face.

It was quite possible that this was absolutely the worst mistake Snape had ever made.

Staring at the parchment rolls on the table, he smiled a sarcastic little smile. No. However foolish this was, it came nowhere near his worst mistake, the decision to throw his life away in a futile quest for glory, excitement and revenge.

This came as a very good second.

He had not hurried in grading, taking his time going through the potions those three half-wits had brewed, reading their essays and notes over and over again. It had been peaceful to concentrate on something real like that. Potions, his only passion.

It had also been a very good way to torment his students. After a week, Weasley had been a nervous wreck every time he'd stepped out of his room. He couldn't really blame him, he'd be nervous as well if he was as incompetent with brewing simple potions as the Gryffindor was. Even young Malfoy had started to look anxious as days rolled by.

Snape refused to even think about the hopeful expression on Harry. The sparkle in the clear green eyes was just the kind of idiotic response he'd come to anticipate from the boy.

He raised his hand to touch the scrolls. He had spent hours reading through them; analyzing every single sentence, making comments with red ink. It had been a strange pleasure not to be rushed with this. Instead of dozens of parchments and a tight schedule, he'd had only three to read and all the time in the world.

When he had finally finished with the grading, he had sat here, in his small room, lost in thought. It had definitely not been as pleasant as the grading. His mind had taken him to places where he never wanted to visit again, through thoughts and memories best left alone.

All because of a foolish young man who seemed adamant on making his life hell.

Snape hated the feeling of being completely lost. Helplessness was something he wanted to avoid at any cost. He'd lived through years with no control over his own destiny, even his own body. Never again. He had his mind and his logic and his sarcasm; guaranteed not to make him feel lost ever again.

Except none of those things could help him now.

Angry at his own thoughts, he pushed the scrolls to the side and reached out for the first thing he could see, a small pitcher. His whole being burned with the need to brew something, to concentrate on something precise and beautiful. Like so many times in the past, he would use it as a distraction from unpleasant thoughts.

Too bad he'd already finished with everything. There were no more ingredients ready, no more potions he had to make.

There was nothing to distract him here. Everything was quiet. The two Gryffindors had left the garden, so there was no sound of squealing. He was still wondering about how he had become to anticipate the sound of someone breathing or turning pages or tapping the side of a porcelain cup with a spoon while he worked.

"This is ridiculous!" he declared. His solitude had always been precious to him, in the dungeons, in here. He did not miss the presence of a teenage twerp who could barely hold his own end in a conversation.

He did however notice the difference and wouldn't exactly mind having Harry here. Wasn't utterly disgusted by everything that had happened between them.

For a fleeting moment, Snape wondered if it was because of all the fumes he'd breathed in the dungeons and the dismal basement in the Malfoy Mansion; the countless poisons and hallucinogens he'd brewed in his youth finally working on him, driving him to rash deeds and insanity. Even though it would be logical, he had to discard the thought after thinking it through.

He was not going to lie to himself like that again. On some level, his honesty really did seem to be absolute.

The thought reminded him of Harry and his serious expression. It wasn't surprising. Most of his thoughts seemed to be related to that annoying idiot these days.

Not only thoughts, but emotions as well. None of those disgustingly mushy things most people seemed to feel when presented with the prospect of an intimate relationship.

Mostly confusion, followed by anger over his own confusion. It was the first time for a very long time that Severus Snape didn't know how to act.

He couldn't comprehend what Harry wanted with him. His world had never given teenage romance a change. It had been a lesson he'd been taught early on, when he'd been thrown from complete innocence into absolute decadence.

It was clear that Harry wanted more than just sex. The problem was, he had no idea what that would be. He was definitely not interested in such romances he'd witnessed at Hogwarts; the mere thought of cooing and walking hand in hand and whispering sweet nothings to someone was enough to make him nauseous. He had no patience for idiotic declarations or public displays of affection.

His life was a quiet one, filled with work and research, and he liked it that way. Relationships were a game. He had no time nor desire for such interruptions, didn't want to bring that kind of turmoil into his life.

Harry's quiet presence didn't really change the way he felt. Neither did his dry -- and rather shocking -- wit. The fact that he wasn't physically repulsive was of no concern.

Snape had to wonder about the very alien emotion he felt thinking about those soft touches Harry had inflicted on him. They had been... pleasant. For the first time in his life, he had not minded casual brushes of a hand against his. Had not forced himself to be still as someone invaded his privacy.

No amount of pleasant touches would compensate with ridiculous behavior. Gaining a -- what? sexual partner? lover? -- would not be worth losing his perfect life. His solitude.

Snorting loudly at his own foolishness, Snape put the pitcher back on the table. He couldn't even claim he still had his peace and quiet.

This would undoubtedly disrupt his life even more. It was quite surprising to realize that he thought it might be worth it. Harry would stop behaving like a hormonal idiot after a few weeks, of that he was certain. The prospect of physical intimacy with him wasn't appalling and he had to admit he was curious.

Curiosity was something he'd tried to curb ever since it had lead him to the darker side of the magical world. This was not as complicated as Dark Magic or pain or killing. Snape smiled at that. Sexual encounters could be invigorous, but they were hardly worth angsting over