Harry Potter --Abscondo--Cupboard Title: No Hiding Place 4: The Cupboard Under the Stairs
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: -Before you can go forward, you must face your past. Sins of the father may bury the son. Harry will find out if a dog really is the man's best friend.
Warning: This part contains deaths, gore, mention of het rape, explicit sex between men, disturbing themes, angst and a partridge in a pear tree.
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.
No Hiding Place by: Rimau BOOK FOUR
The Cupboard Under The Stairs
Part 1
"Thank Merlin!" Letting the praise out as a relieved sigh, Ron turned his back to the fireplace.
It had been wondrous to see the two Slytherins floo out of here, out of his life. Spending a couple of months cooped up in a small cottage with Malfoy and Snape had been really awful, but maybe now he could put the whole thing behind him and try to forget all about it.
He noticed the strange silence in the room at the same time as Hermione cast a questioning look at him. Glancing over his shoulder, he saw that Harry was still staring into the fireplace.
"Hey, Harry." Ron nudged his friend. He was prepared to see his friend startled, but instead, Harry just turned around, looking gloomy. He didn't need any explanations for the expression. Moping after Snape? Probably.
He'd have to talk to Hermione about that. As soon as possible.
Forcing a small smile onto his lips, Harry sighed. There was no use in wallowing in dark thoughts right now. "I'm all right." The lie was instinctive, slipping out before he could even think. He knew Ron wouldn't believe it.
The very knowing look on his friend's face confirmed that.
Harry didn't want to talk about it right now. He knew that now that Snape was gone, Ron would undoubtedly want to talk about him. It was something he had to deal with later on, but he couldn't do it now when he wanted nothing more than floo after Snape.
He pushed away that as well. Their fantasy life at the cottage was over and it was time to step back to reality. "Is everything all right back home?" He could already tell by Hermione's relaxed expression that his nightmares had been just dreams, but he couldn't help asking.
She nodded. "Everything's fine. Nothing's really changed." Grabbing Ron's arm, she led him to the couch.
Harry followed them silently, sitting down on an armchair, collecting his robes around him as if he was feeling cold.
Frowning a little, Hermione added, "Oh, except that Dumbledore gave us the Potions exam. And..." Her expression wavered for a moment.
Harry was instantly filled with dread. "What?"
"Hagrid," Hermione smiled, "Proposed to Madam Maxime. He didn't say what the answer was, but he's been made the official spokesman between the Order and Beauxbaton board of directors." She could still remember his happy grin when he'd told her about it. "We gave him a big party before he left to France."
Relieved, Harry sagged back on the chair. Hagrid was in France? He'd miss him, but at least he was far away from the future battlezone. That was excellent news. "I say, that's marvelous! Do you think they'll invite us to the wedding?"
They all chuckled at that. It would be a sight to see. Hagrid all nervous in a tux, probably insisting that Fang acted as a witness to the ceremony and the happy couple cutting a wedding cake that was shaped like some kind of a magical beast.
Hermione regained her composure first, casting a fond look at Ron, who was still laughing. "We did lose the House Cup, though. Came in second. Ravenclaw won."
That made Ron stop laughing. He frowned for a second, but then shrugged, "Well, as long as we beat Slytherin, everything's all right." The thought of Malfoy hearing this made him feel better.
Of course thinking about him also made him think of Snape. He wondered if he should wait until he and Hermione were alone to bring up the whole mess Harry had gotten into.
He didn't like the tired look on Harry's face, so he kept his mouth shut. But he would definitely need to talk to Hermione about it later on! She could find out if Harry was under some kind of a spell. He knew he was reaching, but couldn't accept the possibility of Harry really being insane enough to fancy Snape without any kind of an outside influence.
"What else..." Hermione thought for a moment. "My mum says hi. Your mum and Sirius send their love. Fred and George asked me to bring you a 'surprise', but I decided that wasn't a good idea."
There was more grinning at that.
"Can you imagine what they could have sent us? The last time I talked to them, they were busy with transformation potions for soda." There would definitely be things to explore when they got back home. Ron was certain of that.
The Canary Custard was already an oldie. Now that the twins were able to concentrate fully on their insane ideas, they were developing new products that made the Custard pale in comparison.
"I know." Refusing to say anything about the things Ginny had told her, Hermione went on, "Professor Pahicna left a week before the exams. No one knows where she went, but there were lots of rumors."
Neither Harry nor Ron was surprised at that. Actually, if she'd been able to finish her job as the DADA teacher, both would have probably fainted with shock.
"We all passed the N.E.W.T.s. Even Neville managed to pass the mandatory Potions exam. You should have seen his face. I was sure he was about to have a heart attack!"
Ron cringed as he saw the strange mixture of longing and amusement on Harry's face. He could bet he was thinking about Snape's reaction to that. It was quite disturbing. Why did that greasy creep have to invade every moment? This was supposed to be just about him and Harry and Hermione, not about disgusting Slytherins.
And he was not about to think about Malfoy!
"Oh, and you both passed the Divinations N.E.W.T.s."
Harry looked puzzled. "Passed? But we haven't even taken the exam yet." He wasn't really looking forward to the whole thing. There were more important things to do than to predict his own death from the tealeaves.
"I know." Hermione sounded half amused, half outraged. "But professor Trelawney had a vision about you passing the exam, so..." She spread her arms. "She gave Ron a B, and because she thinks this may well be your last chance to enjoy anything in life..."
"Let me guess. I got an A." It wasn't exactly surprising to Harry. He didn't really care; Divinations was a hoax anyway.
She nodded. "Yes. She gave Parvati and Lavender As as well." Considering that she knew they hadn't really studied for the exam and had got the grade mostly because they worshipped their teacher, she was still unable to feel anything but disgust about the whole thing.
Pushing the surprisingly bitter thoughts out of her mind, Hermione asked, "So, did anything interesting happen while you were staying away?" She was eager to hear everything about it. Even though she'd been busy back home, she'd missed her friends awfully.
It had been the worst spring ever. She hadn't been able to concentrate properly on the reading, spending most of her time working with Terry to keep everyone in line and studying. Thinking about her partner always made her feel calm, the serious Ravenclaw had been an excellent Head Boy and the Ravenclaws' success in the House Cup was mostly due to him. Hermione believed they indeed deserved it.
Not that she'd ever tell Ron about that.
Ron thought of all the things he could say about their stay at the cottage. Maybe tell her about the snake. Hermione would be fascinated, he was sure.
Or maybe he'd tell her about Eppy and her grumpy ways. The horrid outhouse. All the quiet afternoons he'd spent with Harry, doing nothing special, just enjoying the solid friendship between them. The way they had studied for the Potions exam and passed. She'd like to hear that.
Without a thought, he blurted out, "Harry's shagging Snape." He couldn't help it. The whole thing still sounded weird.
Seeing Hermione's shock made him feel slightly better. At least the whole world hadn't gone insane.
"Ron!" For a second, Harry wanted to either slap his friend or retort with 'Ron is shagging Malfoy'. He didn't think Hermione could handle that, though. She was already looking like she was going to have an apoplexy.
It wasn't exactly a good sign.
"You.... Harry? Is that true?" Choking the words out, Hermione stared at him. "You're... involved with a professor?"
Harry thought for a moment. "Yes. Well, technically, Snape's not my professor anymore, but yes, I'm... involved with him." He didn't know of a better word to use.
He was glad she wasn't repeating 'you're shagging Snape' as Ron had when he'd first found out. She had more style than that.
"You... You're..." She had some problems getting the words out. "Involved with Snape?" Then her eyes widened even more. "You're shagging Snape?"
Harry groaned. Careful not to look at Ron, feeling like he'd strangle him if he saw him grin, he said calmly, "Yes."
There was a completely shocked silence as Hermione just stared at him. Trying to collect her thoughts, she turned to look at Ron. "Do you think he might be under the Imperius? Or maybe drugged somehow?" Her voice was deadly serious.
"I don't know." Ron had wondered about that himself. There had been no way for him to find out while they'd stayed at the cottage. "He did drink some Draught of the Living Death, but I had that too." It hadn't turned him into a total git.
No. That had happened a moment before drinking the potion. On both occasions.
Sighing, Harry shook his head. "No. I'm not drugged or cursed or insane." He cast a glare at Ron. It was starting to annoy him, the mistrust his friend was showing.
"You and Snape?" It was clear that Hermione had trouble to believe anyone would like to be associated with Snape like that. She had seen and heard lots of strange things, first as the Gryffindor prefect and then as the Head Girl, but she'd never heard of anyone ever even having a crush on their Potions master.
A goofy smile spread to Harry's lips, even though his chest kind of felt tight. He wasn't sure if he should nod at that, but it just sounded so right. "Yes. Me and Snape."
Hermione didn't want to believe what she was seeing, but she couldn't deny the fact that Harry actually looked happy. "Oh." Still, she had to glance at Ron. "And this is not a joke?" One never knew with the Weasleys.
"Merlin, I wish it was!" Ignoring the way Harry looked at him, Ron sighed. "No. It's not a joke."
After thinking for a moment, Hermione still found it impossible to believe. She could see Harry and Ron were both serious about this, but it still sounded ridiculous. Harry and Snape? "Why?"
Harry had no idea how to explain this to her. It had been a pain to go through this with Ron, and he'd been there to see at least some of the changes between him and Snape. "I..." He remembered the talk he and Ron had shared ages ago. "I got to know him outside the class. In Order meetings."
As he'd suspected, there was a hint of confused resentment in her eyes. She was probably thinking exactly the same as Ron had, wondering about all the things he had kept from them. Fortunately she didn't say anything.
"He's honest. At least to me. He's never lied or sucked up to me." The insults and sarcasm wasn't all that big a deal. Honesty was imperative.
"Yeah. He really doesn't coddle you." Ron's voice had a slight edge. "He's still the same nasty git we all know and hate. Our greasy, nasty severe Snape." Realizing he'd accidentally made a pun, he grinned.
"Severus." Hermione couldn't help correcting it. Her gaze was still fixed into Harry and she had to admit she liked what she saw, even though this whole thing sounded prepostrous. There was no trace of the haunted look in his eyes, even though he did look slightly sad. "'Verus', like true or real, right?"
Harry nodded. He'd never really thought about that, but of course Hermione would say something like that, she paid attention to every detail.
"Yeah, yeah. Drop two letters from his last name, and you get 'ape'. So what?" The way Hermione didn't seem to be completely disgusted by this whole thing was making Ron angry. Was he the only one with brains here?
Knowing that Ron was still shocked about his relationship with Snape, Harry refrained from hexing him. "I like him." It was as simple and as complicated as that.
"I see." Hermione really did see it. There was a definite change in Harry's tone when he talked about Snape; like he wasn't a complete monster. She could remember Snape stumble and then fall on his knees, holding professor McGonagall tight against his chest. No. He wasn't a monster. "And does he like you?"
There had never been any sign that their dreaded Potions master even tolerated Harry.
Ron had never thought of it this way, he'd been too caught up in the stupid drama his life had become. Waiting for the answer, he wondered what Harry would say because he honestly didn't know.
It was something Harry wasn't too happy discussing about. He knew things had changed now that Snape was back at Hogwarts, and when they returned to the school as well, he'd have to work hard to get everything back the way they'd been for such a short time.
Making proper strategies for the future would have to wait. If he concentrated on sharing things with Snape, Hermione would undoubtedly notice how empty that made him feel.
"He doesn't hate me."
He wasn't sure it made any sense, at least to his friends who both knew what Snape was like in the classroom. How could he really explain how someone like that could be so damn important to him in a way that didn't make him sound like a complete idiot?
To Hermione, that was enough. "Okay." The calm satisfaction in her friend was more telling than words. She smiled. "Good."
Harry swallowed. This acceptance was making this worse somehow. If things were different, he'd be overjoyed. But not now.
It had been a good idea not to tell Ron that there was a distinct possibility that his thing with Snape was over. Why complicate things unnecessarily? He doubted Ron would have understood when he himself didn't understand it either.
"You are both insane!" Shaking his head with disgust, Ron stared at his friends. He'd been certain Hermione would see it as insanity, just like he did.
Harry and Hermione shared a knowing look at the familiar words and then smirked at Ron. It was almost as if they were all back in the library, browsing through the heavy volumes and memorizing charms. The memory was so clear it wiped away the past months and carried them back to a simpler time.
"Oh shut up!" Ron was unable to keep the smirk from spreading to his lips as well. He didn't want to turn this into a joke, but had to admit that maybe now wasn't the time for a serious conversation. They could talk more later.
Seeing Harry look relieved when he simply stuck out his tongue at Hermione, he knew it was the right decision.
The conversation veered back to the more mundane topics after that, Hermione telling more about the life at Hogwarts and Ron making a few comments about Eppy. Harry stayed mostly quiet, watching his friends and enjoying the comfortable atmosphere.
Things were going to be all right. It was good to see Ron look so happy, a striking contrast to the past few days.
One less thing for him to worry about. He could well guess what was waiting for him back home; not a long summer vacation, but hard work with his exams and then with the Order. He was going to be too busy thinking about the war to really concentrate on his friend's problems.
He almost hoped he would be too busy to concentrate on his own problems as well.
As Ron disappeared to the loo, Harry stretched his legs padding to the window. He was glad Hermione joined him a moment later, not needing any time to wallow. There was nothing to see out there, the landscape hidden in the darkness, but he wondered where they were anyway. Not far from Hogwarts, he thought.
Ron's delighted yell rang in the hallway. "Indoor plumbing! Thank Merlin!" He sounded so happy Harry had to grin at that.
At Hermione's questioning look, he muttered, "There was just an outhouse at the cottage." He sounded wistful. He missed even the outhouse with the smell and the insects and the magical light that didn't always burn as bright as you wanted it to.
They could hear the sound of the toilet being flushed, accompanied by another delighted yell.
"I'm so glad you two are back." Smiling happily, Hermione leaned against Harry. "I've missed you."
Harry wrapped an arm around Hermione's shoulders, squeezing slightly. "I've missed you too, Hermione!" It wasn't a lie, even though he had been too busy to really miss anyone when they'd been gone, it was good to see her again.
They stood there together for a moment, listening to the faint sound of water being ran in the bathroom.
Clearing his throat, Harry muttered. "About Snape... You didn't seem shocked about... You know. Him being a guy." Not that Harry had expected her to be. But she should have at least been slightly stunned. Or even surprised.
Hermione laughed. "After watching for weeks as you invented all sorts of excuses to go near the Hufflepuff rooms and then disappear somewhere with Justin, that was not a surprise."
That was a bit disappointing. Harry had thought no one had noticed that unfortunate affair, mostly because of the way it had ended.
"Why? Did Ron have problems about you seeing a man?"
"No." Harry shook his head. He didn't bother to add that Ron's problems were about the identity of the man, not his gender.
He didn't want to talk about this anymore. Maybe later, when he knew what was happening, he'd sit down with Hermione and babble for hours. Not yet. Not when he had no idea when he'd see Snape again.
There would be other things to think about now.
It was already late, but none of the three Gryffindors felt like going to bed yet. Scrounging through the kitchen -- where Ron let out more delighted yells as he saw that the cupboards were all full -- they collected a huge snack and then retired to the living room to eat.
By a mutual agreement they didn't return to the subject of Snape and shagging.
Feeling still slightly hollow inside, Harry tried his best not to let any of his misery show. To his surprise, it wasn't really hard. The sharp and funny comments Hermione made about everything that had happened while they'd been away made him smile a genuine smile, and he was glad things were well back home.
The light banter was familiar and it was easy to concentrate on that. Even when all three started to nod a little and their conversation was blurred by yawns, they stayed in the living room, reluctant to break the companionable mood.
It was Hermione, who finally suggested they retired for the night. She was still used to the daily rhythm back at the school, and her body was screaming for her to get some sleep.
Being something close to real gentlemen, Harry and Ron told her she could use the bathroom first. Ron ruined it slightly by muttering comments about saving them at least some warm water, but Hermione pretended not to hear it, just winking at Harry over Ron's shoulder.
It was good to have her friends back.
There was enough room for them all to sleep alone, but out of habit, Harry and Ron shared a room. It was somehow comforting to hear the sounds of someone else breathing; the familiar nocturnal sounds that had been with them for seven years.
Harry wondered if he'd ever get used to sleeping alone.
After Ron had finished with his prolonged ablutions, Harry went to grab a shower. He stood under the warm spray for a long time and then washed quickly without paying much attention to the bottles on the ledge. He didn't want to get all moody right now.
He stepped out of the large bedroom long enough to wish Hermione good night. Yawning, he realized he was actually tired. No wonder after a more or less sleepless night.
Exhausted, Harry collapsed on the bed, glad that they could sleep late the next morning.
Dreams came and went that night, never clear or long lasting, confusing images and flashes from things he'd read and heard. Not exactly nightmares, but strange enough to make his sleep restless.
The dreams haunted him through the night, but when he woke up, he didn't remember anything about them.
Part 2 It was past dinner time when the three Gryffindors were finally able to floo into Hogwarts.
Waiting for the floo to open again hadn't been too bad. They'd had a lot to talk about, things to reminisce. The cupboards in the kitchen had been refilled during the night and Ron was still ecstatic by the fact that the bathroom inside was fully functional. Everything was just fine.
Harry watched Hermione disappear into the fireplace and sighed. Staying here for the night had been a prolonged transition between a dream and something that could well be a nightmare.
The exams, the war. Leaving Hogwarts behind. People milling around him, expecting him to actually know things about battle strategies, reporters haunting his every step. Well wishers and those who hated him for his fame.
It was definitely not something he was looking forward to.
He tried very hard not to think about the other things waiting for him at Hogwarts. Or not waiting. Hermione had been unable to tell him anything more about Dumbledore's summoning, so he didn't even know if Snape would be at the school.
Harry hoped he'd be there, but considering how the universe always seemed to enjoy watching him fall on his face, he wasn't too optimistic about it.
"I think you should go first." Gesturing at the fireplace, Ron stood back and waited. He didn't feel comfortable leaving Harry behind alone.
Harry tried to smile in response, but couldn't produce more than a twitch on his lips. Grabbing some of the floo powder, he stepped into the fireplace and stated, "Hogwarts!" Then he felt being pulled through space.
He managed not to stumble as he stepped out of the fireplace, coughing as his lungs objected the soot flying around him. The hero had returned! What an undignified way to come back to the one place he'd always considered as home.
"Are you all right?"
"I'm just out of practice." Harry managed a smile. He brushed the soot out of his robes without much enthusiasm.
Hermione looked doubtful, but let it go. A moment later the floo let out a wooshing sound, and then Ron stepped calmly out.
It was quiet in the huge Entrance Hall, no sounds of people coming from the staircase. Harry found that somehow unnerving, he was used to the silence, but not like this when it was still daytime and he wasn't sneaking around in the darkness, hiding underneath his invisibility cloak.
"So what do we do now?" Somehow even the air here felt different. Better. Ron was feeling all energetic. "Should we go and see Dumbledore, or do we just go upstairs?" He wondered if there was anything to eat in the Gryffindor tower. Probably not. Maybe they could call Dobby and have him bring them a snack.
A bit surprised that there was no one here to greet them already, Harry looked at Hermione.
"I don't know. About you, that is." She shrugged. "You'd probably better go to see the Headmaster." It was always the safest thing to do.
That made Ron stare. "What? Aren't you staying?" Bugger! Just when things were looking normal again.
"No. I need to go home. My mum and dad are waiting." After everything that had happened, Hermione was surprised they hadn't objected to her one extra day at school. Ever since they'd found out about the war in the wizarding world, they'd been acting overly protective. "They're... They worry." She didn't need to say anything else, they all understood that. "But I'll be back in a week or so."
She was a part of this. University would have to wait, there was no way in hell she'd abandon her friends now. This was her world as well, so the fight was hers too.
Harry stepped closer to her, hugging her tight. "I hate to see you go, but I understand why you have to." Hermione's parents were really nice, and he knew they missed her. "Owl us."
"I will." She hugged him back, wondering just when exactly had he become so mature about things. As she let him go, she could see that Ron was still disappointed about her leaving. "Stop sulking, Ron. It's only a week!"
Her exasperation was so familiar from their hours of studying together, Ron could do nothing but nod. The memory of spending time in the library did make him shiver too. Hiding the shiver by stepping closer and then pulling Hermione into a bone crunching embrace, he said, "Say hi to your mum for me!"
"Of course."
Harry and Ron watched her straighten her robes. They both sighed and then smiled at each other. For a short moment it had been like they were back in a less complicated life, when they had been together all the time, the Gryffindor trio.
Hermione grinned at the two of them, knowing exactly what they were thinking. "I'll see you in a few days then." She knew her parents would be worried about her future, and she needed these few days to try to calm them down.
"Take your time." It was strange, how wistful the notion of loving, worried parents could always make Harry. "We'll be fine. You make sure your family can handle you doing this now." He doubted the Muggles had any idea of what a war in the wizarding world really meant. It was a thing to be grateful of.
Nodding, Hermione hugged him, and then hugged Ron again. Grabbing her bag, she stepped back into the fireplace. "Diagon Alley!"
With a green flash she was gone.
Ron let the smile ooze away from his face. He was feeling crummy. Not sad, but tired. He hadn't slept too well and considering the dark smudges under Harry's eyes, he could bet that he hadn't either. "So you think we should go to see Dumbledore?" Going to the Gryffindor tower and to his bed sounded like a much better idea.
"I think so." Rubbing his neck, Harry looked at the stairs, wondering if they could postpone this. He wasn't in the mood for a meeting. "But..."
The sound of urgent footsteps stilled his words. A moment later a very familiar figure appeared at the top of the stairs.
"Professor McGonagall!" Ron wasn't surprised to see her here. Remembering how she'd looked when they'd left the castle, he wondered if she had some message for him from his family.
Minerva McGonagall nodded curtly. "Mr. Weasley. Mr. Potter. Good to see you again." She paused for a moment before adding, "Please follow me." Her expression was tight, hiding any true emotion but her posture radiated anger and something else. Something darker.
"Yes, professor," Harry said meekly. Casting a worried glance at Ron, he padded up the stairs.
He couldn't help wondering what had caused such a welcome. Sure, the Head of their House could be abrupt, but usually she had a few kind words to them, especially after not seeing them for such a long time. A cold knot of fear started to coil in his stomach.
The slightly mellow and wistful mood had disappeared, leaving both him and Ron with the notion of doom.
There were so many things that could have gone wrong.
Trying to keep a firm hold on the panic, Harry followed McGonagall through the corridors, up the stairs. He knew already where they were headed. Exchanging yet another worried glance with Ron, he worked hard not to let his imagination paint various disaster scenarios in his mind.
"Phoenix!" Snapping the word out, McGonagall stood waiting until the gargoyle started to turn. Then she stepped on the stairs, letting them carry her upstairs with her two Gryffindors following in silence.
The door to the Headmaster's office was ajar. Still, McGonagall rapped her knuckles against the solid wood before pushing the door open. She stood back to let her students enter first.
As Harry stepped in, he cast a wary look at her, flinching as he saw the way her expression hadn't changed a bit. It looked like she was keeping a very tight control over some overwhelming emotion.
"Ah." The Headmaster's voice greeted them. "Come in, come in. I've been expecting for you." He sounded hushed as always.
Harry looked around the dimly lit room. He was accustomed to seeing at least a few members of the Order here most of the time. With only the Headmaster standing next to Fawkes who was dozing on his perch, it felt like the place was empty somehow.
It made him almost squirm with tension. This was not good. Not good at all.
Dumbledore looked weary, his hat was slightly askew, his gaze dull and lifeless. "Mr. Weasley. Your father is here, waiting for you." He gestured at the other end of the room, and as if planned, the door none of them had actually noticed there before opened, showing Mr. Weasley.
"Oh. Okay." Something seemed to make Ron hesitant, as if he could feel something wasn't right. He walked to the door slowly.
"Minerva. I think you should go with him." It was said gently, with some hint of regret.
She simply nodded, herding her student towards the doorway.
The warning feeling was prickling at the back of Harry's neck. He could still remember his dream, the vivid sense of warning and fear. "Is everything all right?" He glanced at the Headmaster.
The expression on the old man's face froze him.
He didn't even realize that the door had closed behind Ron. All he could see were the clear blue eyes that had unnatural seriousness in them.
"You'd better sit down, Harry." Holding out his hand, Dumbledore guided him towards a chair. The gesture was ominous. "There are some things I need to tell you."
Harry sat down obediently, not thinking his legs could hold him up. Whatever had happened was awful. "What happened?" Images of terror flashed through his mind, the cold feeling grabbing his stomach tighter. "Snape?" There was only puzzlement in Dumbledore's eyes, but it was a brief relief. "Where is Sirius?" It was the worst thing he could think of.
If Voldemort had realized that he was living with Remus, the Death Eaters would have attacked him, the only person in the world he loved as a parent, unconditionally. He was quite sure he would lose the sometimes tenous grip on his sanity if he lost Sirius as well; it would be too much.
Harry's mind was filling with mindless babble.
"He is fine. Harry! Sirius is fine."
Dumbledore's voice seemed to pierce the panic. Harry looked up, feeling enormously relieved. The expression on the wrinkly face brought the panic back, though. "Then what happened?"
Sitting down on the couch, Dumbledore sighed. "Last night, the Death Eaters launched several attacks on our people. They attacked the grounds, Hogsmeade, Ottery St. Catchpole and..." He paused for a moment, shoulders hunched. "They also attacked some Muggles, including your aunt and uncle's house."
Harry stared. His eyes felt hot, burning, but he could not blink.
"I'm sorry, but... Your aunt was killed in the raid." There was nothing but sympathy in Dumbledore's voice.
Air was suddenly thick, too thick to breate, and Harry concentrated on taking in air, careful not to suffocate.
"There were no casualties on the grounds, even though I'm afraid Hagrid's hut burned to the ground. Some of our people were also injured." What a clinical way to describe utter chaos that had reigned in the castle. "Remus Lupin was stabbed with a silver knife, but he is recovering from the wound at St. Mungo's."
There was a memory of a howl ringing in Harry's ears, replaced by soft humming. As if the silence was too much.
He shook his head, trying to chase away the strange sensations. Focusing his gaze on Dumbledore, he tried to understand just what exactly he'd just heard. Aunt Petunia was dead, killed in their mindless war. And Remus had been stabbed. Hagrid had no home. People were hurt. "But..."
Something wasn't right here. He cast a look at the now closed door on the other side of the room. Why would he need to be alone to hear this? Ron could have been told this too.
Dumbledore's words came back, and with them, the suffocating feeling almost overwhelmed him. "No. Oh no!"
Ottery St. Catchpole. The Burrow.
The Death Eaters had attacked the Burrow.
"I am sorry."
"Oh no! No, damn it, no...." Bile was rising to Harry's mouth. This couldn't be happening. This was a dream, a nightmare. Any moment now, he'd wake up and things would be the way they had been. He didn't want to hear any more.
Waiting for an opportunity to cut through the pained words, Dumbledore sat there. Then he said quietly, "I know how much the Weasleys mean to you. I truly am sorry."
Harry was lost in the confusion. He'd seen Arthur Weasley; he was all right and so was Ron. But the Death Eaters had attacked their home, Voldemort had attacked people he loved.
Unable to recognize the steely tone as his own, he asked, "Who?"
"I'm afraid they killed Fred Weasley, and Penelope Clearwater-Weasley. Charlie Weasley is at St. Mungo's. He is in a curse-induced coma."
Fred? It didn't make any sense. Fred was dead? How could Fred be dead? He was a part of George, the other half of the duo that had always seemed inseparable. And Penelope? She and Percy hadn't been married for even a year.
He had been there, at the wedding. He had been there, watching the usually so reserved young man smile brightly at his bride. It had been a small ceremony with only the family and a few close friends. He had been invited there. And now she was dead.
Like Fred. And Aunt Petunia. All dead. Charlie lying in the hospital, cursed. Maybe lost forever. Gone, like so many others.
Because of him.
It was always because of him, his fault that people around him died and went away. There was something in him that made all his loved ones targets.
He stared at the old wizard in front of him, waiting for the rest of it, because there were always more awful things happening. Still because of him.
Dumbledore's voice was gentle as he leaned closer to Harry. "I'm sorry. Your godfather is still in St. Mungo's with Remus. He would probably want to be here, but..." He spread his hands, refusing to finish the sentence.
They both knew what he meant anyway. Sirius wasn't mentally fit to leave Remus' bedside right now.
"I understand." Harry nodded. "Was there anything else?" There was no sign of any emotion in his voice, the syllables dropping coolly out of his mouth. He felt an odd detached fascination at the whole thing, amazed to be so in control when the whole world spun out of sanity and reason.
Maybe it was best to let the boy go to the Gryffindor tower and drown his sorrow into his solitude. Dumbledore knew that even though Harry was still technically a student, he would look through his fingers if a certain strong willed house elf happened to visit the dormitory with something stronger than simple tea.
This was the time to mourn. All Harry's friends were gone, his family out of range, so he would have to deal with this on his own.
It made Dumbledore wish there'd been another way. To raise the small baby with the lightning -shaped scar in a wizarding family with parents who would love the boy, to give him a real childhood, a real life. His decision had been the only one possible, but he still regretted it sometimes.
"No." Shaking his head, Dumbledore watched Harry walk to the door. This was not what he'd envisioned all those years ago when Hagrid had brought the small bundle to Privet Drive. He'd never thought the boy would grow up to be so alone.
Even he could not see everything, wasn't omniscient. A fact that pained him now more than he could say.
Before Harry could open the door, Dumbledore said quietly, "I will be here if you ever need anything." Not that he really thought Harry would come to him. He'd never taken that option.
Harry didn't even glance over his shoulder. He simply walked out of the Headmaster's offices.
Everything happened slowly and without a sound. The staircase rolled back down, the gargoyle turning as soon as he stepped on the stairs. He moved as if in a haze, not bothering to wait till the huge statue was back in its place again.
He didn't really think about what he was doing or where he was going. Leaving Dumbledore's offices had been a reflex, a need to run away from a place that was destroying him. Now he had nowhere to run.
The corridor stretched before him. Suddenly he was reminded of all the other nights he'd walked through the hallways, his vision usually blurred by the thin fabric of his invisibility cloak.
It was quiet in here. Lonely. All the other students had left and even though there were still teachers here, they were probably too busy in their own chambers. There would be no one in the dormitories, no sounds of his friends breathing in the dark, no one to watch, no one to talk with. Hogwarts, his home, seemed as empty and uninviting as a tomb.
Harry swallowed. He couldn't take another step. Couldn't stand even the thought of going to the dormitory, where all the shadows couldn't hide him from the pain he felt inside. Ron should be there with him, they should be together angsting over the exams. Instead, his friend was with his family, the Weasleys all gathering to mourn together.
While he was here all alone.
It was as if the whole world was turning into ice. His world. The world that had never given him a chance. Everything he'd ever cared about had turned into ashes.
He didn't want to be here. Couldn't handle being all alone, not again. He missed his family; Sirius and Remus and Ron and most of all...
"Come on, Potter." A quiet voice came from somewhere behind him. "Come with me."
Harry spun around, shocked to hear the familiar dry tone. "Snape!"
He couldn't believe he was actually seeing the man. Snape was supposed to be doing something important somewhere. This wasn't vital, this was just overwhelming pain. He was used to it.
Mouth open, he could only stare.
A soft sigh echoed in the corridor. Surprisingly, the sound held no impatience. "Come with me. You can spend the night in the dungeons."
That sounded so good. The dungeons, his dungeons. Harry nodded, unable to think about anything beyond the fact that he was going to the dungeons with Snape. Focusing on that, he took a few steps down the corridor, hesitantly at first, but then with more confidence as he heard the footsteps following him.
Snape stayed close by as Harry staggered towards the dungeons, making sure he would be there to catch him if he fell. There was nothing he could say to change things right now, so he stayed quiet.
His mind was in turmoil. This was not what was supposed to happen. The deaths and Harry's state were tragic, but expected; the Death Eaters were bound to attack one day. What better way to devastate the enemy than to do it right now when things looked almost good? This was exactly how Lucius and his Master would have orchestrated the whole thing.
It made Snape so mad at himself and the Order. They had all known something like this would happen, yet they'd been unprepared. He'd been too busy working on the personatus potion. The others had been too busy celebrating.
Hearing that people had been killed hadn't exactly been a shock, but he'd been unable to stay in the dungeons. Not because there was anything he could do for those who had passed away, but because he knew how this would hit Harry.
He had come here as soon as he'd been able to. Learning that Black was away at the hospital, he'd surmised that there might be a chance of Harry needing someone right then. Seeing the young man stand all alone in the corridor with a completely shattered expression had been worse than his worst fears. It had filled him with something very close to real anger. The defender of their world, the exalted Harry Potter? It was a joke. A young man left all alone in the night to mourn.
What a weird thing. He'd acted on instinct, as if the notion of protecting Harry was so ingrained into his mind that he couldn't really do anything else. He was honest enough with himself to know that was just half the truth. He had acted before he could really reason his actions.
Coming back here tonight had very little to do with protecting the figurehead leader of the Order. It was about making sure Harry survived through the night.
They had to wait for a moment as the staircases moved slowly to lead downstairs. Snape could sense someone staring at him and since Harry's gaze was still out of focus, it had to be someone else. Looking up, he saw Minerva McGonagall standing on a parapet, looking down with a sad expression on her face.
He nodded gravely, but didn't say anything.
When their staircase finally arrived, Harry stepped on it without looking up. His mind was blank, everything around him a blur. His feet moved slowly, taking him down towards the peace and quiet of the dungeons. It was a route he knew by heart.
The hallways down there were dark and empty. A softly spoken word from Snape lit a few torches along the way but Harry didn't care. He simply walked on, with the sounds of their footsteps echoing hollowly in the corridors. It was easy to concentrate solely on that.
So easy, that Harry almost walked past the door leading to Snape's quarters. A hand on his shoulder led him through the doorway.
Silence. Darkness. Familiar scents all around him. He swayed a bit, finally feeling like he was safe. Warm arms came around him immediately, pressing him against soft robes.
Harry was starting to shiver. It was insane. The dungeons might look cold, the Potions classroom freezing during the winter, but it was actually quite warm in here. Especially when Snape was holding him so close.
"Take off your robes." His voice uncharacteristically soft, Snape added, "Let's put you to bed."
That was a good idea, it would definitely be warmer in bed. Harry moved woodenly, trying to get rid of his clothes as quickly as possible. Sleeping sounded good. Maybe when he woke up, all this pain and insanity would be gone, fading away like a bad dream.
Snape watched him struggle with his robes. When it started to look like Harry would just get entangled in his clothes, he helped him to undress. The robes fell to the floor, neither man caring enough to actually pick them up.
When Harry was in his underwear, he stood there in the middle of the room, unsure of what to do next. He glanced at the chair he'd slept in so long ago, wondering if Snape had meant that he would spend the night there. He'd settle to that if he had to as long as he didn't have to go to Gryffindor tower and be completely alone.
"Come on."
Harry looked up. He didn't say anything, just allowed Snape to guide him to his bedroom. He'd only been here twice, months ago, first helping exhausted Snape to bed, then peeking in a couple of hours later to see if he was all right. It hadn't been like this, though.
His mind was focusing on details; the bare walls, the large wardrobe with doors carved full of intricate symbols, the small table by the bed, a chair not far from it. At least there was a plush carpet here, it felt nice under his bare feet. The bed wasn't as wide as the one in the cottage. Not as soft either. He allowed Snape to push him down, sighing as the heavy blankets were pulled up to his chin.
Lying there, he watched Snape walk out of the room. He wanted to call him back, but simply couldn't find the strength. Eyes wide, he stared at the doorway, wondering what he was supposed to do right now. It was still so damn cold.
The sound of toilet being flushed came from the bathroom, followed by water running down the drain. Then soft footsteps approached the door. Harry sighed with relief as Snape walked back into the bedroom, closing the door behind him.
He couldn't turn his gaze away from the man. He watched him place his wand on the nightstand and then undress. With slow movements, Snape folded his clothes over a small chair before walking to the bed. When the mattress dipped, he moved a bit to the side to make room for Snape. After a softly whispered 'nox', the room turned completely dark. There was nothing to see, but he still couldn't close his eyes.
Snape's presence so close to him was strangely familiar yet strange, the sound of him breathing was unnaturally loud in his ears. It was as if the world around had disappeared, leaving only this small corner intact. There was the mattress and the blanket. The touch of Snape's leg against his. Nothing else existed in this frozen space.
No sounds. No thoughts. A perfect place with nothing to see nothing to remember. Such a cold existence. Frozen, like he was.
"I heard about your aunt."
Harry didn't move. He could hear Snape sigh, but he just couldn't react to the sound because it would make everything real.
"I gather you weren't close, but it's still never easy to lose a relative." It came out awkwardly, as if such compassionate words were alien to Snape. They probably were.
Why couldn't Snape just shut up? Harry wanted to scream and shout at him, but couldn't find the energy. Maybe Snape would stop talking if he was quiet and didn't react to his words.
There was a short silence. Then Snape said hollowly, "I'm sorry. For your aunt and for the Weasleys."
Harry swallowed.
He didn't want Snape to be sorry, he just wanted everyone to be alive and well. Even Aunt Petunia; his blood relative whom he couldn't grieve at all. Not like Fred. Not like.... Feeling like he was about to choke, he let out a sob.
It was followed by others.
Sighing, Snape moved closer and then wrapped his arms reluctantly around Harry. The strong body against his seemed to melt into his embrace immediately. He didn't say anything as the tremors began, simply held Harry tighter.
The only sounds in the small room were Harry's harsh intakes of breath. He didn't really cry out loud, even as his whole body shook with the power of his sobs. After a while he felt like suffocating as he couldn't get enough air with his face buried into Snape's shoulder, but he didn't care. He didn't care about anything.
Snape stared into the darkness, ignoring the damp feeling on his shoulder. He had no idea what to do, besides holding Harry. There had been moments he'd informed his Slytherins of losses -- a memory he pushed away, not needing to concentrate on the vacant look on Gregory Goyle's eyes right now -- but no one had ever sought consolation in his arms.
Not that there would have been any even if someone had wanted it; Snape did not let people close to him like that. There were always others to deal with support and he could keep his distance.
He refused to analyze his current actions, relying on instinct only.
Words would have no meaning now, they would sound false, unfounded. He wasn't sure about touches either. Simple comforting touch was not really a part of his routine. In his world, physical closeness always led to either sex or violence. Sometimes both at the same time.
When the sobs didn't seem to recede, he started running his hand slowly up and down Harry's spine.
It felt soothing to him. From the lessening shaking, he thought it must feel like that to Harry as well. Since he had nothing else to do, he kept rubbing Harry's back until he relaxed completely.
Part 3 Harry cringed as he stepped out of the fireplace.
He'd been here before, but somehow he always managed to forget the awfully bright light and the colors that were so sickeningly sharp they almost seemed to jump at him.
It made him wonder if such color scheme really soothed the sick people. He had no idea, but there had to be a reason why St. Mungo's resembled a colorblind idiot's dream on the inside.
Unlike usual, his thoughts didn't bring a smile to his lips.
There had been a moment this morning, right after he'd opened his eyes, when he hadn't remembered anything from yesterday. He'd lain there, nuzzled against a warm body, listening to a steady heartbeat. The scents in the dark room had told him that he was with Snape, and for that glorious moment everything had been perfect.
Then memories had come crashing down, and he'd thought he was going to suffocate again. Because of the grief, because of the overwhelming guilt.
A hand had come to rest on his back, the touch hauntingly familiar. Harry had remembered feeling the same hesitant touches last night. There were no words or sounds, only that soothing touch and the warmth next to him.
He hadn't thought about it, he'd just squirmed closer to Snape, wrapping his arms around him. Even though he'd probably slept for hours, he'd felt exhausted. Drained.
They had stayed in bed for a long time, not talking, just lying there together. Harry had been grateful for that. He knew nothing would make him feel better and nothing could change what had happened. He needed to deal with it somehow, and for now, this was the best way. More tears would undoubtedly come later.
When he'd finally got out of bed, Snape had told him to take a long shower. That had sounded excellent, and he'd padded to the bathroom without a word. The warm water had felt good. He had washed himself with familiar potions, and then stood under the spray. A stray memory of short cool showers back at Privet Drive had made his throat clench again.
He had cried then, letting the water wash away his tears. His grief wasn't because he missed Aunt Petunia. Honest with himself, he had to admit that he wouldn't miss any of his relatives. But he knew that if Dudley had ever loved anyone but himself, he'd loved his mother.
That pompous and fussy woman who had never been kind to her nephew, but had not deserved to die. She'd had nothing to do with Voldemort and their war.
After finishing with his shower, Harry had been red eyed, tired of crying and hurting.
There had been breakfast waiting for him in the living room, Snape sitting on the couch with his ever-present cup of tea. Instead of going to his chair, Harry had sat next to Snape, needing the contact right now. No comments had been made of his choice.
Food had tasted like cardboard, but at least the tea had warmed him a little. After the shower and the hot drink, Harry hadn't felt so cold anymore.
He'd tried not to think of what to do next. There was so much to do. The Order was probably assembling, they needed to prepare for more attacks. He had to make sure his friends were safe, needed to go to see Sirius and Remus. Would probably have to think of how to send his condolences to his cousin and uncle, not that they would appreciate it.
The silence had been mellow, peaceful. He'd always liked the way Snape didn't find it necessary to chatter nervously. They simply sat there, sipping tea and thinking.
Harry had finally decided on going to St. Mungo's first. All other things could wait. If Dumbledore needed his presence somewhere, he could always contact him there.
Saying that to Snape had made him feel a bit selfish, but Snape had only nodded. Told him that the floo would be open for him to return when he was ready to come back.
Trying not to act like a total git and cry again, Harry had touched Snape's hand, needing that contact. He'd offered him a trembling smile, not really being able to say anything. They had simply sat there for a moment longer.
When Harry had finally been ready to floo over to St. Mungo's, he'd been relatively calm.
Finding Remus wasn't as easy as he'd thought. Most of the nurses looked so busy he didn't want to interrupt them by asking for directions. There were some security guards standing by the main lobby, but Harry didn't want to draw unnecessary attention to Remus' room. Not with a known fugitive in there. He simply walked past them. When he finally found someone to guide him, he had to suffer through gawking and awed expressions.
Harry ignored it. Now that he was finally here, he was anxious to see his godfather and Remus again, simply following quietly as the nurse pointed him to the right door.
He nodded at a serious looking young woman standing at the doorway with her wand clearly ready. Even though he couldn't remember her name, he knew she was one of the Order. A moment later an identification charm tingled over him as she confirmed he really was who he seemed to be and not one of Voldemort's people in a clever Polyjuice disguise.
It made him feel a lot better, even though he had seen the guards downstairs. At least now no one would be able to hurt his family, or so he hoped. For Sirius would still be in danger from over zealous Aurors who would see him back in Azkaban. Or worse.
The woman nodded back, but didn't say a word. Her brown gaze was already returning to scan the corridor.
Raising his hand to push the door open, Harry hesitated for just a moment. He'd known all along that he couldn't go to the other end of the hospital where Charlie Weasley lay in coma and the other Weasleys waited. But this was the first time he felt unsure of going to see Sirius and Remus.
Old insecurities were deeply rooted into his mind and he had to fight them back before stepping inside.
Keeping Sirius' love firmly in his mind, he pushed the door open.
The room was simple with the walls painted light yellow with bright pink polka dots and only a few chairs and a nightstand surrounding a big bed. Harry's gaze went immediately to the still figure lying there.
He swallowed hard as he saw how pale Remus was, the chalk white pallor making his scars look sickly red. How funny that Harry hadn't paid any attention to them in years. Now seeing them simply reminded him of what he had read of his kind. Silver poisoning could easily kill a werewolf. It was a miracle that Remus was still alive; he looked weaker than he had in ages.
Even with the unusual paleness, the man seemed to be awake and alert. He was turning to see who had entered, and recognizing Harry, he smiled wanly. "Harry!"
Sirius stood up from the edge of the bed where he'd been sitting, trying to spin around at the same time. He looked haggard, almost as wild as he'd been when Harry had first seen him, but there was a relieved look in his eyes. "Thank Merlin!" Choking a little, he spread his arms.
Harry didn't say anything. He just walked into the offered embrace and held his godfather tight.
"I'm sorry!" Voice hoarse, Sirius whispered the words out. He rested his cheek on Harry's head. "I should have been there for you yesterday." He would have, if the wound on Remus' chest hadn't started to show signs of silver poisoning. It had been the worst night he'd had for years, making even the memory of the desperation he'd felt back in Azkaban pale in comparison.
The madness had never come as close as it had last night. His mind had been a black hole, a completely lightless void. It terrified him to admit that without Remus, he would indeed be completely insane right now.
Losing Remus would drive him over the edge. Not even the love and duty he felt for Harry might be enough to pull him back.
"I love you, Sirius," Harry muttered against Sirius' chest. "You're here now, and it's all right."
Like always when he was hugging his godfather, he felt safe. It was a strange illusion, considering Harry knew exactly how fragile the safety and sanity Sirius held were. He wasn't going to analyze it, enjoying the sensation was enough.
The answer was immediate. "Love you, Harry." Sirius had never found it silly to say these words to Harry. He suspected that not many people had offered the emotion unconditionally to him before.
After a moment, he let go of his godson, stepping away a bit. It had been months since he'd seen him and Harry had looked harried then, a bit too skinny. He'd usually had dark smudges under his eyes, telling a tale of sleepless nights. There was that pinched look on his face again, but it was probably due to the horrible things that had happened.
Otherwise he didn't look bad. He had definitely gained some weight. Sirius approved. He'd been worried that time spent with someone like Snape would break Harry and was glad that he seemed all right.
He still shivered at the sorrow in Harry's eyes. He'd been left alone to deal with some ghastly news when there should have been people with him.
When he should have been there for his godson.
"You shouldn't have had to spend the night alone." It was the closest Sirius could mention Ron right now. Earlier, when he'd been walking the hallways on a leash while his best friend in the whole world had been dying, he'd passed by the boy in the lobby. It had been clear from the scents surrounding him that Harry hadn't been around Ron Weasley for hours.
Harry shook his head. "Don't worry about it." He could see the words didn't really change anything, so he added, "I wasn't alone last night."
"You weren't?" There was only relief in Sirius' voice.
"No, I wasn't." Offering no explanations, Harry smiled gently. He wanted to make Sirius feel better, not push him into insanity by talking about just exactly where he'd spent the night.
"I really did try to come to you, but..." Sirius shrugged. He couldn't explain how he'd felt the previous evening, when everything had been a blur and he'd wanted to go to console Harry, but couldn't.
Couldn't even find his way around the hospital to get to a fireplace where he could floo back to Hogwarts. He doubted he'd been able to use the floo even if he'd got there.
"Sirius!" Grabbing his godfather's arms, Harry did the only thing he knew to reassure him he was all right. He pulled him into yet another hug. "I wasn't alone. I understand you needed to stay here and I'm not mad at you."
He could feel Sirius calm down a bit. Holding him close, he sighed, wondering what he should do if Sirius actually asked him who had stayed with him. There was no way he could tell the truth, not now. This was neither the time nor the place.
Fortunately Sirius didn't ask. Relaxing, he let go of Harry and then guided him to sit on a very comfortable chair next to the bed. Trying not to look too obvious about it, he perched on the bed next to Remus.
Harry looked at the man lying in bed, answering the smile on his lips. "Hi."
"Hello, Harry." It was good to see the boy here. Remus had been worried about both him and Sirius but now it seemed like things would be all right again. "How was your stay in the secret hideaway?"
Not completely able to mask the wistful look on his face, Harry said, "It was all right." He shrugged. "Very relaxing."
Sirius huffed, "I'm surprised to hear that. With those Slytherins with you, I would have thought it was pure hell to you and Ron." He cringed after the last bit. Not a good thing to say right now.
There was a short silence, laden with uncertainty.
"I guess you can call the Potions exam hellish." Even the memory made Harry shiver. "But otherwise it wasn't bad. We had lots of things to do. I can tell you all about it later on." It was only a small lie. There were things he would definitely not tell his godfather, ever.
It made Sirius breathe easier. "All right." He looked hesitantly at Remus, begging him to help him out. He didn't want to say anything that would make Harry feel bad right now. That meant he wasn't goint to mention the Weasleys again.
Before Remus could think of anything, Harry pushed the chair closer to the bed. He put his hand on the quilt next to Remus' fingers. "So what happened here?" He didn't want to talk about their time at the cottage, telling only half truths.
"Werewolfslayers!" Sirius growled immediately. "That bastard hired werewolfslayers to kill my Remus." It was actually amazing such a deep sound could come from a human being.
Remus smiled at the slip, and then glanced a bit uncomfortably at Harry. Seeing the faint grin on his face was a relief.
Still seething with anger, not noticing the meaninful glances the others had exchanged, Sirius said, "We couldn't outrun them, so we had to fight." Remembering the animal panic that had almost torn him apart, he shuddered. Even as he was holding his wand, throwing hexes all around, his mind had been screaming to him to change and rip the werewolfslayers' throats out. His human control had held -- barely -- until one of those bastards had managed to stab Remus.
"They... They hurt him." The howl that had rang in the quiet night had chilled his blood, driving all his sanity away. Control had been replaced by the simple need to defend the other man. "I don't really remember what happened after that. Except that I..."
"Snuffles drove them away." Smiling encouragingly at Sirius, Remus cut through the hesitant explanation. He reached out with his hand, fingers lacing between Sirius'. It wasn't even a conscious gesture.
Harry saw how hard Sirius squeezed Remus' hand and knew it hadn't been as simple as that. If the werewolfslayers had indeed been hired by Voldemort, they wouldn't have given up so easily. He said nothing about his suspicions. "Good."
"No." Sirius didn't let go of Remus' hand, but looked up anyway. "Not good. I didn't just chase them away. I killed a few. I remember that clearly." He spat that out as if still tasting the blood in his mouth.
Some things in his life were only a blur. Memories of time past that had faded under the desperation that had almost swallowed him in prison. There were clear memories as well. He wondered if this one would ever fade. Probably not.
Sorrow in his eyes, Sirius looked at Harry. "Now your godfather really is a ruthless killer." He had spent twelve years in Azkaban for a crime he hadn't committed. It didn't really make him feel any better right now. He'd hunted for food in his dog form, but had never killed a human being before. Killing Pettigrew still sounded like a good idea, but now he couldn't claim he was innocent anymore.
"Sirius..." Remus sighed.
Harry was up from the chair in an instant, moving to hug Sirius tight. "No. You did what you had to do to save someone you love." He felt his godfather relax slightly. "Besides, it won't change anything. Not the way I feel about you anyway. You know I have killed as well." They all knew. Everyone in the Order's inner circle had known the truth about the attack on the Burrow two years ago.
Now Ron knew as well. He wouldn't tell anyone. Probably not even Hermione. Because some things were just too private.
"But... It's different. You're a hero, Harry. I'm not."
The resigned tone made Harry swallow hard before he could say anything. "No. No, Sirius, I'm not. Or if I am, we all are."
Sirius didn't look convinced. He was not a hero. He was just a man. Not like Harry who was... Who... "Oh." It had never occurred to him that people would really see Harry like that before this moment. That the idolization and praise might be completely unfair. Even cruel.
But it wasn't like that with Harry! He was a hero, no matter what he thought about himself. Seeing the whole thing upset Harry, Sirius didn't say anything.
A soft knock on the door broke the very tense moment. Harry flinched back as Sirius shifted his shape, the big black dog appearing next to the bed, hackles raised. Not knowing what was happening, he reached out for his wand.
"Good morning! Oh, I see you have a visitor, Mr. Lupin." A young woman dressed in a mint green coat opened the door and peeked in. Her eyes widened as she saw Harry. "Oh, wow!"
Harry couldn't help cringing at that. He'd already seen the way people looked at him in the corridors and the occasional hero worship at school was child's play compared to this.
"Good morning." Smiling wanly, Remus greeted the woman. "Come on in." He made a feeble gesture with his hand.
"No, thank you, Mr. Lupin. I'm here to take Snuffles out for his midday walk," she replied, still ogling at Harry. "It's a lovely day really, and I think he'll enjoy chasing the gnomes in the garden."
Keeping his expression neutral with some difficulty, Harry sat there while the woman put the collar on Snuffles and then guided him out of the room. Only when the door slammed shut after them, he let the laughter out. He knew Sirius could probably hear him from the corridor, but couldn't keep quiet.
"That's one of the strangest things I've ever seen," Remus admitted, his eyes gleaming with mirth. He let out a chuckle that deteriorated into coughs.
Harry moved up from the chair, hovering worriedly next to the bed. He wondered if he should get a doctor or someone.
The coughing fit lasted for a moment before Remus slumped back on the bed. He took deep breaths before turning back to Harry. "Don't worry." He even managed a crooked smile. "This happens a lot."
The doctors had explained it all to him after he'd woken up for the first time and found himself lying in the hospital bed. Not that he'd really needed the explanation, he was well versed in werewolf lore and facts, knowing the side effects of a silver poisoning. He was glad it was the painful convulsions and the coughing instead of the more common paralysis and death.
"Can I get you anything? Water or something?" Even with all the training he'd had with the Order, Harry had no idea what to do now. "Chocolate?"
"No thank you. I'll be fine." The last thing Remus needed right now was to choke on water if the convulsing resumed. "Come on. Sit down." His fingers brushed against the sheets.
The silence that followed his gesture was full of unvoiced questions and explanations.
Finally Harry moved to sit on the bed. He smiled at Remus a little, knowing the reason for the uncomfortable look on his face. "I'm really glad you're all right." His tone was similar to the one he used when talking to Sirius. For a long time now, he'd seen these two men as family. Remus didn't have the official title, but he was as much a godfather to him as Sirius was.
"Thank you," Remus said, feeling relieved. "I'm sure he would have come to you if he'd been..."
"Able to think clearly? I doubt that. He'd just feel more guilty now." It was the truth. Harry knew Sirius, probably better than the man could imagine. "I'm glad he stayed with you."
The words stunned Remus. He'd seen Harry avoid certain subjects with Sirius, but he'd never thought he really knew him that well. "Yes. I..." He wondered why he felt the urge to apologize.
Harry waited for a moment. When the silence stretched, he said quietly, "I understand." His gaze was firm. This was the thing they never talked about. He didn't know why, especially after his chat with Ron about liking men weeks earlier, but he didn't want to push anyone.
There were so many things he still didn't know about the past, he was wary of approaching a subject that might make Sirius uncomfortable.
Smiling weakly, Remus leaned back again. He could tell that Harry really meant that. The boy never ceased to amaze him. "Good."
It was enough to simply sit in silence. Harry could see Remus' eyelids droop slightly, and decided they could talk later. The most important thing was for him to get better, everything else could wait.
About half an hour later the door opened and Snuffles padded inside, holding a small bag in his mouth. The sight made both Harry and Remus smile; it simply looked ridiculous. Dropping the bag, the dog glared at both of them, and then let out a sneeze that racked his whole body.
The nurse shut the door behind him, casting one last wistful look at Harry.
Sirius was grinning as well as he changed back into his human form. It seemed he was unable to even pretend to be miffed when these two people who meant the world to him were looking so clearly amused.
"Here." He tossed a large chunk of chocolate to Harry, grabbing the Daily Prophet from the bag. "The nurse seemed to think you might enjoy this." He sniffed again.
It had to be because of all the different smells in the building, flowers from the visitors and herbs and potions stored everywhere. Snuffles' nose tended to have some problems with the overpowering scents. Even this room smelled faintly of potions ingredients. How odd, since it had just smelled of Remus this morning.
Pushing the thought out of his head, he walked to the bed. Remus didn't look any worse, so he could relax slightly. The weary smile offered to him made him nod slightly. Everything was fine.
He sat down and opened the paper, hiding his almost giddy relief behind the pages.
The room was filled with silence once again. Harry snuggled on the chair, drinking in the atmosphere. This was the one place on earth where he didn't need to think about anything, didn't need to worry. It was always like this with Sirius and Remus, the two men who were now his only real family.
Staying here was easy. He knew he was welcome, and no one would question his presence. Smiling faintly, he decided to just sit here for a while longer, even if Remus fell asleep again and he and Sirius couldn't really talk about anything. He didn't want to think about why he might be afraid to go back to Hogwarts.
A very loud growl broke his revelry.
"I can't believe this." Crumpling the paper in his fist, Sirius ranted, "Now they're blaming Dumbledore for sending Harry away. As if his presence here would have changed anything."
He didn't say it out loud, but he was actually glad Harry hadn't been home when the Death Eaters attacked. He would have been caught in the fights, probably wounded, maybe even killed. That was the one thing Sirius refused to even think about. He was not going to let Harry die, like he'd let James die.
Sighing, Harry leaned back on his chair. "I'm surprised they're not calling me a coward for going into hiding in first place." He had been certain people would see it like that.
There was a very uncomfortable silence in the room as Sirius tried to school his expression to normal. It was clear that he was angry about something, his eyes blazing with quiet rage. Somehow the effort of restraint was scarier than any rant.
"They are?" Harry asked, his eyes enormous. It wasn't surprising, but it still stung. He'd expected for something like this. From what he'd heard from Ron before their stay at the cottage, there hadn't been any slandering in the papers for ages, only rumors about his social life.
The reporters had obviously been waiting for a proper occasion to continue with the nasty articles.
Sirius shook his head slightly. "No. They're putting all the blame on Dumbledore." He couldn't say the rest of it. Could never hurt Harry, even though he thought he deserved to know. Feeling desperate, he looked at Remus for help, glad he looked more alert.
"Harry, when you went away, there was some discussion of... You running away from your destiny." It wasn't easy for Remus to say, knowing it was hurting both Harry and Sirius. He knew there was no way for Sirius to talk about this, the dark gaze haunted already, so he went on. "It was pretty bad, the press speculating on various theories before Albus put a stop to it. He gave a short statement saying that you wanted to stay and fight, and he sent you away."
He had never really understood the reason for such a comment, especially since the articles after that had been less than flattering to the Headmaster.
Harry closed his eyes. "Let me guess. That made me the hero and Dumbledore the meddlesome old coot." He had suspected it would go like this, but it still hurt, mostly because he knew now that there was no running away. No hiding.
"Yes. How did you know?"
"I... It doesn't matter. It's something Dumbledore once told me." The lie came out easily. Harry smiled at Remus, the smile not reaching his eyes.
Remus nodded, accepting that lie. He was too dizzy to continue the conversation. "All right." He let out a sigh. "May I have some of that chocolate please?" Comfort offered and shared, he leaned back against the pillows and closed his eyes.
Smiling gently at him, Sirius avoided Harry's gaze and returned to the newspaper.
Part 4 It was the third morning Snape lay in his bed wide awake.
The mattress felt strange, a bit too hard under his back. How annoying. It had taken him weeks to get used to the too soft bed in his room at the cottage and now it seemed he'd become too accustomed to that softness.
The uncomfortable bed wasn't his only problem. The bigger one was the weight on his shoulder, the soft sounds of breathing accompanying the distracting brushes of Harry's every exhale on his skin.
Snape couldn't remember the last time he'd slept with anyone. There had been occasions when he'd passed out from all the pain and exhaustion, collapsing on the bed next to someone. Afterwards, regaining consciousness had been horrible. He'd certainly not felt rested.
Not like now.
He moved a little, grimacing at the protesting murmurs coming from Harry as he slipped away from him. Turning on dim lights with a quiet word, he sat there, glaring at the sleeping young man.
Watching Harry lie there snuggling his pillow, he wondered if he'd ever been able to relax and sleep with someone else in his bed. Maybe when he'd been nothing but a teenager himself, dreaming of happiness and perfect love and other illusions that had vanished ages ago.
Harry made a soft whimper in his sleep and rolled over, letting go of the pillow and attaching himself to Snape's leg like a limpet. Snape didn't really care, couldn't feel any more shocked by any of this.
He could handle the touching or the simple physical act of sex they had shared back at the cottage. It was not nearly as disturbing as it was to drop his guard and trust this young man.
Last evening, when Harry had curled on his couch while he'd been brewing the Wolfsbane potion, he'd wondered if he should take sleeping potion to get some real rest. He hadn't slept well the night before, unable to truly relax after bringing Harry to his rooms. He'd doubted he could send him away just to get a good night's sleep.
It was probably the exhaustion that had enabled him to fall asleep even with Harry Potter curled next to him. He was certain it wouldn't happen again.
Once again slipping away from Harry's embrace, Snape walked to the bathroom. He needed some time to think, and now that he wasn't tired, it would be easy to figure out how to get out of this mess he'd made.
He went through his morning routines mechanically, mind focused on his problem.
Bringing Harry here had been instinctive. He'd known the idiot wouldn't go to anyone for help, and there had been no way he would have spent one night with Harry at the Gryffindor tower. So the dungeons had been the only real choice.
Snape decided not to wake Harry up, and went to get dressed in his living room. He ordered breakfast for two without even having to think about it and then sat down to do more serious thinking.
How on earth had it come to this?
Returning to Hogwarts had been simple, his rooms waiting for him unchanged. There had been a few brief words with the Headmaster and then he'd returned to his work almost like he'd never been away. Like the previous months had indeed been nothing but a dream.
It had been easy to push away all thoughts about sad green eyes and soft touches. He'd managed not to think about Harry at all until he'd heard about the attacks. Then it had been impossible to concentrate on anything else.
That was why he now found himself facing this mess.
Snape knew he would be busy these next weeks. There would be no time to rest, like he usually did during the first weeks of summer break. The Order meetings alone would take a lot of his time, not to mention working on the new personatus potion he was supposed to perfect.
Dealing with Harry would be an unwelcome interruption. The stubborn fool would want to talk about things, would need explanations, and Snape knew from the experience that the death glare wouldn't be enough to shut him up.
It would be too time consuming to reason with him, but Snape didn't want to add to the obvious pain Harry was already in, so he couldn't really just tell him to bugger off.
He sighed, picking up a cup of tea from the table. Maybe he should let things be as they were. Sooner or later Black would ask Harry to live with him and then the Gryffindors could play a big happy family together and he could have his peace back. Harry wouldn't want to stay here forever, especially when he made it perfectly clear that there would be no more sexual encounters between them here in the normal life.
For now, Harry could stay here, mainly because his presence wasn't completely unpleasant. Snape didn't know just exactly when had he stopped seeing Harry as nothing but a nuisance, but somewhere along the line he'd stopped being an annoying twerp and become a real person. He wouldn't go as far as to say he liked Harry the way it was clear Harry seemed to harbor such thoughts towards him, but he could tolerate his presence better than anyone else's.
Satisfied with his plan, he sipped his tea, waiting for Harry to wake up before going back to work.
He didn't have to wait for long. Soon there were sounds coming from the bedroom, and then Harry appeared at the doorway, looking a bit worried until he saw Snape sitting there. The worried expression melted into a smile, and then Harry disappeared to the bathroom, scratching his head as he went.
Snape rolled his eyes.
He was certain this would not be the only moment of exasperation this morning.
Breakfast went as usual, with Harry simply sitting next to him and devouring an enormous amount of food. The silence after that wasn't bad either.
Finishing with the breakfast, Snape went to see how his Wolfsbane was doing. Like yesterday, Harry came over to actually watch him brew instead of simply ogling at him from the distance. His obvious interest in the potion made Snape want to make scathing comments about concentration and the importance of all the potions he'd taught, but the memory of Harry's return from St. Mungo's last night made him hold his tongue.
There would be plenty of time for his comments later on. He could wait until Lupin was out of hospital before making them.
After he'd bottled the potion, he turned to Harry. "Are you going back to the hospital today?"
Startling as the mellow silence was broken, Harry nodded. "Yeah. I haven't heard anything from Dumbledore, so I thought I might as well." He didn't sound like he was too anxious to hear from the Headmaster either.
Snape did not blame him. He knew Harry was intelligent enough to know what would happen next. He wasn't looking forward to it either. "Good." He handed the bottle over. "You should probably take this with you. I added some ginger roots, just in case Lupin still suffers from the silver poisoning."
His voice held faint traces of his usual scorn as he talked about the man. No matter how he was willing to brew him this potion, he could never really forget how he'd found out Lupin might need something to control lycanthropy with.
"Thank you." Harry nodded. He didn't bother to say that there might be a few bottles of the potion at St. Mungo's. Snape's brew would undoubtedly be better than any the potion-makers at the hospital could ever conjure up.
Snape decided not to ask what the foolish smile was all about. He definitely didn't want to know. It was time for Harry to leave so he could concentrate on his work again.
Before he could say anything about that, the flames in the fireplace flickered, and Dumbledore's face appeared there. The Headmaster looked from Snape to Harry, smiling slightly. "Good morning, Severus. Harry."
Feeling completely unreal, Snape nodded his reply. Next to him, Harry stammered something half intelligible.
How strange that they would both act like two students who had been caught in the kitchen after curfew.
Dumbledore didn't seem to notice. "I see you're ready to leave. Please convey my regards to Remus Lupin. And your godfather as well. I do hope they're all right, both of them."
"I think they're going to be just fine," Harry said. "But I'm sure they'll be glad to hear from you anyway."
Almost snorting at the useless pleasentries, Snape waited for Dumbledore to get on with it. He certainly wasn't going to send his best wishes to Black.
"Excellent!" Dumbledore declared. "I was wondering if you might be back by two pm? Minister Fudge is coming for tea, and he wants to see us both."
There was a shocked silence. Snape could see that Dumbledore wasn't too happy about this either, even though he did hide it well. The dismay on Harry's face was easier to read.
Harry nodded. "I'll be there." He didn't even try to force a smile on his face, looking as somber as he sounded. "At two o'clock."
His words sounded very much like a dismissal. At least Dumbledore took them as such. "Good. I will see you then. Good day, Harry. Severus." With one more knowing look at Snape, the Headmaster disappeared.
Snape didn't say anything as Harry walked to the bathroom. He simply stared at the fireplace.
He knew exactly what that look meant. Albus either knew what was going on, or he was making some well educated guesses. Snape didn't really care which way it went, as long as he didn't comment on it.
Maybe he could be held accountable to Dumbledore, but he was not about to justify his actions to anyone. Not even the man who had saved his sanity all those years ago. His lips curled into a moue of displeasure, knowing that sooner or later Dumbledore would ask. If he didn't come out and say it out loud, there would be questioning glances and hints.
Snape didn't know why that didn't make him feel guilty. It didn't make him want to push Harry away or cringe at the thought of his body next to him. Not long ago, he'd thrown decades of hard work and suffering away because he couldn't stand the idea of bringing Albus bad news. Why was he now willing to risk his displeasure?
Casting a glance at the bathroom door, he pushed decided there was no need for guilt or even explanations. Harry had climbed into his bed willingly at the cottage. Not even that; he'd sneaked his way past his well erected shields with determination and cunning befitting any Slytherin and then latched onto him like an Amazonian Rainbowleech.
He was not corrupting anyone. Would never do that to another person, even someone as Gryffindor as Harry Potter. Their sexual encounters had occurred between consenting adults, and even that was over now. He was simply doing this because it was the only thing he could do.
Disgusted by his foggy reasoning, he went to the cupboard to check with his ingredients.
"I'll be off then." Wiping off a smudge of toothpaste from his left cheek, Harry walked back to the small living room. The smile he flashed at Snape was slightly wan. "I'll... See you later."
Snape could hear the slight hesitation well. "I will be here." Where would he go? He had work to do.
"Okay." There was relief in Harry's voice. After a moment of hesitation, he came close to Snape, and touched his cheek briefly, brushing a lock of greasy hair behind his ear. "Have fun working with your potions."
He walked out of the room before there could be any reply.
Staring at the door that had closed after Harry, Snape couldn't help thinking how annoying it was not to feel any annoyance for such a foolish gesture. He was probably used to them by now.
He turned back to his work.
It was easier for Harry to make his way through the maze like corridors of St. Mungo's now that he actually knew where he was going. There were more people walking around even at this early hour, and most of them stopped to stare at him.
He tried not to show how it bothered him to feel their curious looks on his skin. It almost felt like a physical touch, something slimy oozing on his body, sticking there and making him feel dirty.
The woman standing outside Remus' door was the same as yesterday, and she gave him an exasperated smile after checking he was who he claimed to be. Harry blinked, wondering what that was about until he heard the loud voices coming from the room.
It was good to see Sirius and Remus again, and it looked like things were getting better here. Remus was still lying in bed, but he didn't look as pale anymore. He was also arguing with his friend when Harry stepped into the room, complaining about Sirius being a mother hen.
"I see some things never change." There was a smile on Harry's lips. "Good morning!"
"Good morning, Harry," Sirius said, not even looking at the door. "And no. You're not getting up until the doctor says it's all right for you to get up. Understand?"
"But I'm fine Sirius! Honestly. You know as well as I do that when the silver poisoning passes, it's not important to..."
Sirius shook his head, interrupting Remus' rant. "I know, but it's not sure it's passed yet. Besides, it's full moon tonight!" Seeing he was going to say something more, he dropped the attempt to make Remus see the sense in it and wheedled, "Please."
"Oh all right!" Muttering a few dark words to himself, Remus leaned against the pillows again.
Harry shook with silent laughter. Apparently Sirius knew exactly what to do to make Remus obey his wishes. "I see that everything's all right here."
"It would be if that overgrown poodle would let me up!" Still muttering, Remus glared at the other man, but the look in his eyes was softer now.
The jibe made Sirius laugh out loud. He made a slight movement as if to hug Remus, but then sat next to him on the bed instead. "The doctors said you're better, but you'll have to stay here for at least three days now. You know there can be a relapse after the first full moon after such a poisoning."
Harry hadn't known that. "I brought you some Wolfsbane." He put the bottle on the table. "Just in case, you know. It even has some ginger in it, you know, for the poisoning."
"Thank you, Harry." Pleased by such consideration, Remus gestured at the chair. "And convey my thanks to Severus as well." The glint in his eyes told that he knew perfectly well Harry would never be able to brew the complicated potion on his own.
It was Sirius' turn to mutter things, but he made sure no one could hear any real words. This was the one thing he couldn't hate in Snape, even though he knew the git brewed the potion just to show off. These past few full moons had been horrendous. The Wolfsbane sent from St. Mungo's had not been as potent as it should have been, and Remus had been in agony throughout the changes.
Harry nodded. "I'll be sure to tell him." It was weird to think of Snape as Severus. "Oh, and Dumbledore sent his regards as well."
That silenced Sirius' grumbling.
"Then you must thank him as well." Reaching out with his hand, Remus grabbed a chunk of chocolate from the table. "And do tell him I'm doing just fine."
Not wishing to start that conversation again, Sirius asked, "Can you stay for a while longer?" Harry's visit yesterday had been so short, he hoped he'd stay. It would be the best way for him to make sure he wouldn't have to be alone.
Since Harry was in no hurry to go to meet Fudge and Dumbledore, he nodded. It would be nice to stay here, with these two men. His family. "I can stay for as long as you can handle me." He flashed an impish smile.
All three Gryffindors shared that expression.
Sirius talked about the doctor's visit for quite some time, looking happy at the good news. Every few minutes he handed more chocolate to both Harry and Remus, determined to make them both feel as relaxed as he could. Then Harry made the mistake of asking about the full moon, and was subjected to another rant about how some of the doctors seemed incapable of dealing with a werewolf without their prejudice showing.
Since it looked like Sirius was actually enjoying the rant, Harry simply listened, keeping an eye on Remus all the time and trying hard not to laugh. He was relieved to see that Remus really did seem better today, his gaze was alert, and he wasn't nodding off.
The rant was cut off abrubtly as a nurse appeared with tea. She wasn't the same one as yesterday, but she seemed to be as impressed by Harry's presence as her colleague had been. Rubbing Snuffles' ears absentmindedly, she stared at him with an awed expression on her face.
Harry smiled at her tensely and thanked her for the extra cup she got for him. That made her blush and stammer something.
When Sirius changed back from Snuffles again, he was too busy sharing the sandwiches and Remus' tea to really rant anymore.
The mood in the room was mellow as they finished eating. Whoever prepared meals at St. Mungo's -- and Harry for one was surprised he hadn't seen any house elves yet -- were very thorough with their job.
"So, is there anything you want to talk about?" Sirius had already decided not to push. He knew Harry would talk to him if he needed to.
Usually when the three of them gathered together, they talked about things that weren't in any way vital to surviving the present. Sirius could remember evenings, when he and Remus had shared stories with Harry, reliving their past. It was important for Sirius to reminisce, it helped to ground him and tie that happy time to this one. It also let him bring some of that old joy to Harry's life, so that he could feel connected to his parents.
He never got bored of talking about things with Harry and Remus and could listen to their voices and revel in their presence forever.
Harry was glad of the way Sirius had phrased that. He'd been a bit worried he'd want to know more about his stay at the cottage, knowing there wasn't much he could really tell now. Very soon, his evasive answers wouldn't work, especially if he wanted to stay with Snape.
He was definitely not looking forward to that conversation with his godfather.
"Tell me about my father." Curling on the chair, Harry looked up at Sirius. "And my mother. They moved to live together after Hogwarts, right?" Seeing the nod, he smiled. "Tell me how did they know it was the right decision. Please."
This was the only way he could ask the question that had been bothering him for some time now.
Sirius burst into laughter. "Are you really sure you want to hear this?" He was glad Harry was asking about those happy days that had finally come back to him. Sharing those tales with his godson was awfully important to him, every memory precious.
"Yes. Tell me, please."
"They just knew. I've never seen two people so in love." It had been nauseating at times, but still it had also been cute. Like love usually was.
Remus looked a bit wistful as he said, "James always said that the Potter men had always been loyal and that they'd known who they wanted from the moment they saw them. We agreed to the former, for your father never even looked at another girl since he fell in love with Lily. But with the whole love at first sight thing..."
"That was a load of crap." Laughter twinkling in his eyes, Sirius interrupted. "Those two knew each other since the first year, and they used to make each other crazy. Lily couldn't stand boys she called brainless athletes and James had a thing or two to say about bookworms."
That reminded Harry of his first year. He wondered if his parents had been as annoying as Ron and Hermione had been back then.
"They were both too stubborn to let it go. Year after year. Constant bickering in the class and in the common room." Remus nodded. "But we should have seen it coming. That kind of fighting can only mean one thing, especially with James' beliefs."
Sirius nodded and then explained to Harry who was looking puzzled, "You know, James was never really into the dating game. He always said he'd meet that special one and live happily ever after with her." The old pain was still visible in his eyes. To his friends, ever after had been awfully short.
"You mean he never... Um..." Harry wasn't sure he wanted to know. There were things about your parents that you really didn't need to hear.
"Sixth year. The beginning of it. Your father took one look at Lily and that was it. None of us really understood it at the time. I mean, we were all teenagers." Casting a knowing look at Harry, Sirius added, "Well, I don't have to tell you what it's like to be a teenager in Hogwarts. There are all kinds of... distractions there."
Remembering the looks, the invitations, Harry could only nod. He knew all right. Most of the people he knew had embraced the concept of experimenting, while others settled with studying. To him, dating had always been difficult. Not because he couldn't get a date, but because he knew what it would mean to have someone date the famous Harry Potter.
There was a very good reason for his cancellation of the Daily Prophet.
He could have followed Hermione's example and immersed himself in the books. The constant threat of Voldemort's people cutting his life short before he had any chance to try the things that haunted his dreams had made him stray from that path.
It hadn't been dating, or even affairs, nothing as complicated as that. It had been hunger and need and desperation, sharing a few glorious hours with another person.
Sirius didn't notice the slight frown on his godson's face. "You know, during those years, I chased a lot of tail..."
"Mostly your own, if I remember correctly." The gentle smile on Remus' face took the bite out of the rather acidic remark. "Sorry. Couldn't resist that."
"Oh, very funny. Anyway, I didn't understand the whole thing back then. Not even when James told us that Potter men have always been monogamous. But I could see how happy he was with Lily."
There was a soft look shared between Sirius and Remus, an emotion neither wanted to explain. It was of memories, their past together. All the things that had bound them together then, the ties that even a decade of anger and mistrust couldn't completely sever.
"I know what he must have felt." Harry wondered if his father and mother had shared the same kind of silence as he and Snape did. If everything had felt just a bit less complicated when they'd been together.
He didn't know how Remus would react when he told these two men about him and Snape. They'd never really talked about things like that, even though the relationship between his godfather and his oldest friend was as plain as the nose on Snape's face. The silence was a bit worrying, and Harry had always wondered if they were ashamed of what they shared.
Harry didn't need to guess about Sirius' reaction. He already knew what it would be. Not because of he was sort of gay, but because of who and what Snape was. It would probably be ten times worse than any tantrum Ron had thrown.
He'd just have to make sure there wasn't anything valuable and breakable around when he told Sirius that he was having warm feelings towards Snape.
"You do?" Sirius teased. "Is there something you want to tell us?" He didn't often get to say this to Harry, who didn't seem to have a girlfriend most of the time they met.
Realizing he'd just opened a door he wanted nailed shut, Harry shook his head, "Not really. Just wondering." He hoped his smile was convincing, at least it made Sirius smile back. Remus on the other hand cocked his head, as if he was smelling a rat.
Harry looked at him, praying he wouldn't ask anything. Not now.
"I remember how he had to work on getting Lily to see him as something else than a Quidditch player," Remus said, as if there hadn't been a small pause in their narration. "He tried absolutely everything that year."
Nodding eagerly, Sirius launched an account on some of the most outrageous escapades they'd engaged in with their friend.
Harry simply listened, mesmerized by the sheer lunacy of the marauders. They had probably been the most reckless students ever to go to Hogwarts. No one could surpass the mischief they'd managed, not even...
Hiding his grimace of pain, he pushed his thoughts away from the twins. He was determined not to think of anything bad that had happened right now. The thoughts would come when the lights went out, and the darkness would cover his grief. He couldn't crumble now.
Fortunately there were enough happy stories to last for hours. When another knock came on the door, Harry was shocked to see that it was already time for Snuffles' midday walk. He hadn't noticed how quickly the time went by.
As the door closed behind Snuffles and the nurse, Remus stretched luxuriously, shifting his position. He even pushed the covers to the side. Seeing Harry's questioning look, he explained, "Sirius is wonderful, but sometimes he does act like a mother hen."
Harry had to agree with that, even though he could say the same about Remus. He wondered what it would be like to live like that, to be constantly aware of his loved one and spend all that energy trying to protect him from everything that might cause him any pain. He didn't think he could handle that, it would be suffocating.
But these two seemed to like it.
"I won't tell him, if you don't want me to." Harry had kept harder secrets than this. "You've got my word on it." He meant the last bit as a joke, and was surprised to see Remus nod solemnly.
"And you know that if you want to tell me something, I won't tell about it to anyone. Don't you, Harry?"
Harry swallowed. He sometimes forgot just how preceptive Remus was. With Sirius, he could lie his way through but it was different with Remus. He would at least know that there was something wrong, and instead of settling it with a warm embrace, he would ask more questions.
"There... Might be something we need to talk about. I'm just wondering if I should talk about it right now." This had even worked a few times, even though Remus had never backed off completely, reminding him of his words later on.
Remus nodded. "No time like the present." He could see this was something that was bothering Harry, and wondered just exactly how long had he wrestled with the matter alone. There weren't many people Harry could talk to, and leaving him and Sirius and Dumbledore behind must have been awful. Even with his respect towards Severus, Remus didn't think Harry would have been able to turn to him with his problems.
"I'm..." Harry snapped his mouth shut. He didn't know if he should tell the man after all. Remus had almost died a few days ago.
The amber gaze focused on his. "We're family, Harry. You can tell me anything."
Harry smiled a little. "I know that. And believe me, I should tell you before I tell Sirius, since I think he'll have some real problems with this whole thing and I don't want him to hurt himself or anyone else."
That definitely made Remus' curiosity peak. They had never really talked about Sirius like this before. "That bad, huh?" Seeing the slight nod, he sat up a bit. "What is it?"
Opening his mouth, Harry had to think for a moment before actually saying the words. There were so many things he could say, all of them true. "I'm... I'm sort of seeing someone." He couldn't believe how hard this was. If he couldn't say it out loud with Remus, how could he ever tell Sirius?
"Is that the same someone you stayed with these past two nights?" Remus had noticed some tension in Harry as he'd said that he hadn't been alone, but hadn't asked any questions. He was always careful of what to say when Sirius was upset.
Protecting Sirius had become a second nature to him now. Sometimes it even bordered insanity, but he didn't care, not after a decade of loneliness.
Harry wasn't surprised that Remus had caught that. He'd come to realize that the man was excellent reading other people. Maybe it was a wolf thing. "Yes. I don't really want to talk about it, but it'll come out some day soon, and I'm afraid Sirius will flip."
Chills ran down Remus' spine. "Are you serious?" He saw another nod.
He closed his eyes, glad that Harry was giving him a moment. There were so many things happening now. He was feeling a lot stronger, almost all signs of the silver poisoning gone, but he would still need weeks of healing potions and monitoring. That would already push Sirius on the edge.
But Harry was right. If he was indeed staying with someone, it would come out sooner or later. He needed to know about it, to shield Sirius from his own feelings. He knew how protective Sirius was, how he saw Harry as special and there was a distinct possibility that he wouldn't see anyone as good enough for Harry.
"Remus?" Worried by the prolonged silence, Harry said quietly, "We don't have to do this now. I just wanted to tell you because..."
"No." The amber eyes snapped open and a faint smile appeared on Remus' lips. He wouldn't turn his back on Harry. "If you need someone to listen, I'm here. You know that. And maybe it is best if you tell me before Sirius finds out about it."
That was the very thing Harry had thought.
"But I'm certain it can't be that bad. As long as you're happy, I think Sirius will be all right with your choice." Remus knew Sirius would never alienate his godson by being overly rude to his boyfriend. Not even if he came from a tradition they both disliked. He decided to make it easy for Harry and said, "Even if he is a Slytherin."
Harry could only stare. His mouth went completely dry as he tried to form words that refused to come out. Remus knew? "How? When? I mean... How?"
"Please! You go away for a long time, and when you come back you seem genuinely happy." Ignoring the twinge that reminded him of the sadness that was also evident in the boy, Remus went on, "There aren't all that many people to choose from. You're together with Draco Malfoy, right?"
After a moment of gawking, Harry swallowed. This was worse than he'd thought. Slowly, he shook his head. "Er... No. I'm definitely not seeing Malfoy." He didn't know whether to laugh or cry.
The silence that landed after his statement was oppressive. Remus was thinking hard, refusing to think about the most obvious solution to this verbal puzzle. He wanted to believe it was someone else.
From the resigned look on Harry's face, he knew it wasn't.
"Harry? Is this person you're seeing..." He couldn't say it out loud, mostly because such silly words would undoubtedly be followed by hysterical laughter.
"It's Snape."
No. He didn't feel like laughing after all. Remus simply stared at Harry, taking in the wry expression, the relief on his face. It was now out in the open and it seemed to be real.
Snape? Severus Snape? Severus? The skinny big nosed boy who used to glare at him and his friends from across the classroom. The sneaky and cunning boy who had always had bitingly sarcastic words to comment on them. His former colleague, who had found his place in the dark and lonely dungeons, existing only to torment others.
Snape, whom he had almost killed all those years ago.
Sighing, he muttered, "Well, you were right on one thing. Sirius is definitely going to flip."
Harry knew that. "Yeah." He felt a bit light headed. Remus knew, and hadn't had a fit. Maybe it was going to be all right. "Thanks for not asking me if I'm insane."
Swallowing the very words, Remus shook his head. No, he couldn't ask that now. But was Harry serious? He couldn't ask that either. "You're staying with Snape? In the dungeons?" He sounded incredulous, stunned by the way Harry nodded. When he'd stayed in Hogwarts as a professor, he'd never heard of Snape inviting anyone down there even for a brief visit.
He couldn't believe it. It would have been disappointing to hear that Harry wanted Draco Malfoy as his boyfriend -- and dear Merlin, he didn't want to use that word on Severus Snape -- but this was completely insane.
"Remus?" Since they were talking about this already, Harry asked quietly, "Will it be a problem that he's a man?"
"Of course not!" It was out before Remus could even think about it. How could Harry even think about something like that? "I... It will definitely not be a problem, to neither of us."
Harry looked at him straight in the eye. "I was simply wondering because it seems to be something you and Sirius aren't all that comfortable talking about." He had never planned of mentioning this, but now he didn't think he had a choice.
There was a strained silence. Remus couldn't say anything for a moment. He had never thought their silence would seem like that to Harry. "No..." He choked the word out and had to breathe deeply before he could continue. "You're right." Why deny something that was true? "But it doesn't mean we're not comfortable with the subject in general."
It still made no sense to Harry, but he didn't want to pry. There had to be a reason why these two men kept the biggest part of their lives shrouded in half-truths, hiding it from even those who loved them. "Okay. Good." He managed a smile.
Not knowing what to say, Remus offered a hesitant smile as a reply.
Harry let out a laughter that sounded almost hysterical in his own ears. "At least you're doing better than Ron and Hermione when I told them."
That definitely made Remus stare. "You told your friends about seeing Snape?" He couldn't imagine how strange that must have felt to all of them.
Nodding, Harry decided not to say anything about the way his friends had reacted to his news. But he did say, "I don't want to lie about this. Not to you guys." There was already so many things he'd either kept a secret or lied about, he couldn't deal with keeping this from his family.
"Oh." The very calm way Harry seemed to treat this with was slightly disconcenting, but Remus had to accept it as a part of him. It had been like this for a long time now, the quiet way Harry took most of the things that life threw at him.
It didn't mean Remus really liked it, but he didn't know what good trying to change it would do either.
Remus felt the familiar exhaustion creep back over him, but he had to fight against it. There was still one thing he needed to know before he could rest. Expression serious, like when he had still been only Harry's teacher, he said, "I have to ask you one thing, and I hope you'll answer truthfully. When... If you're seeing Snape, and I assume by 'seeing' you mean..."
He was actually grateful when Harry nodded frantically. Good. He didn't want to have to ask questions about James and Lily's son and his sexual relationship with Severus Snape.
"When did this start?"
Harry looked baffled for a moment. He couldn't really tell himself, not about the fancying and the companionship. "I'm not sure, really." When he'd gone to see Snape at the beginning of the year, they had barely tolerated each other. He was pretty sure some of the warmer feelings had started to develop even before they'd left for the cottage, but he couldn't say precisely...
As he hesitated, he could see Remus' expression change. Replacing the careful neutrality was pure shock.
"Oh, you mean the shagging." That was at least easy to remember, even though Harry did feel strangely flustered as he mentioned shagging to Remus. He was also slightly annoyed by what he was so clearly implying. "He never touched me when I was his student." That was true. In a way. But then again, it had been Harry who had kissed Snape and not the other way around. "And even then I had to... Well. It was my idea, not his."
Still reeling from the way Harry had said clearly that he was actually shagging with Severus, Remus blinked a few times before smiling slightly. "That's all I needed to know. Not that I really imagined Severus would ever..."
This was probably the most awkward discussion Harry had ever been a part of, so he just nodded before Remus could finish his sentence. "Yeah. I know. He really wouldn't. And it really is all right." Even though it kind of wasn't.
"Good." Yawning, Remus leaned his head back. "I'm going to close my eyes for a moment," he explained, lifting his hand slightly as he saw the guilty look on Harry. "No, you didn't wear me out. I guess I'm not as strong yet as I want to believe."
Harry could see that clearly. "All right. You take a nap, I'll be here." He would wait until Sirius came back and then head back to Hogwarts.
It was getting late, and Fudge might be in Dumbledore's office already. He didn't really care. This was more important right now than the Minister. They wouldn't be discussing anything that mattered anyway. Fudge had made it absolutely clear that he was not going to get involved in this. Fairy tales and rumors, he called it, even though they had clear evidence of Voldemort's return.
Everything seemed so complicated right now, but Harry was glad he'd at least talked to Remus. Some of the things he'd said were ones he'd wanted to say for a long time now, but hadn't known how.
Harry knew everyone had secrets and weird notions of what should be shared with others and what should be held hidden. He would have kept his involvement with Snape as a secret too, if that had been a choice. Every time he explained it to people, he lost a part of something that he wanted to keep as private. His own.
The only problem was that his notion of a family didn't work like that. There might be open secrets that everyone kind of knew already, but big things like this couldn't remain in the dark. Sooner or later Sirius would have found out, and at least now he wouldn't face his horror alone.
Casting a fond look at Remus, who was now breathing evenly, Harry let out a deep breath.
A soft knock on the door made him reach for his wand a moment later. It was too soon for Snuffles to be back from his walk, and the nurse hadn't knocked yesterday when she'd returned him to the room. Pointing his wand at the door, he stood there, ready to face anything.
When the door finally opened, he stood there, staring.
"Oh!" Looking startled, Ron stammered from the doorway, "I didn't know you were here." Realizing just how that sounded, he added, "I mean I can come back if this is a bad time."
Harry swallowed. "No... No, it's all right. Come on in." He gestured with his hand. "Remus is sleeping, but..."
"I'm not staying for long. I just wanted to see if he's all right." Turning his gaze to the bed, Ron stared at the sleeping man for a while.
It was the most awkward moment between them ever, two friends standing next to each other, neither knowing what to say.
Harry waited until he was ready to do anything to break the silence. Then he muttered to Ron, "I'm sorry." It felt completely inadequate, but he didn't know what else to say.
To his surprise, Ron simply nodded, his expression never wavering.
Dreading another silence, Harry added, "I wanted to come and see you and Charlie, but I wasn't sure..." He shook his head. "Didn't think I should intrude."
Even before Ron said anything, he could see that his guess had been right. He wouldn't have been welcome to mourn with the Weasleys. Two of them were dead, one in grave danger, all because the Death Eaters had targeted people he cared about.
A simple way to hurt him.
Now that Ron was squirming uncomfortably, Harry knew that they had succeeded beyond their wildest hopes.
"Yeah. Mum is taking this pretty badly. I don't think she... Well, you know." It was sad to see how hard Ron tried to force a smile on his lips, to soften the blow. His voice was oddly mild, even distant.
Harry had suspected this all along, but it still hurt. "Yes. I do know." The story of his life. Why would this be any different? A loving family that had welcomed him with their arms open. Of course it would be taken away from him, one way or the other.
"She'll get over it." Ron didn't sound too convinced.
They stood in silence, surrounded by the polite lie. Neither sure they could manage words right now.
Ron looked down at the floor, barely seeing the brightly colored floortiles. "I... The funeral will be next weekend. Um... It will be a small occasion, just for the family." He hoped Harry would not ask for explanations, for the only thing he could think of was the truth and he couldn't say that.
There was a cold silence, full of pain. Harry fought against showing any emotions, staring into distance with the numbness growing inside with every breath he took.
After a moment, Ron cleared his throat. "I... I should go back to see if Bill's had any luck with breaking the curses yet." He couldn't stay here for longer when everything he could say was killing his best friend.
Harry nodded. "Yes. Of course." His voice was completely calm, only the blank look in his eyes betraying his true feelings. "You should be with your family."
"Harry..." Not knowing what to say, Ron clasped his hand on his friend's shoulder, his grip tight. This was not what he'd wanted.
That day when he'd befriended this skinny boy in the train had changed his life. Previously, he had always shared things with his brothers, now he had Harry to be his friend. He hadn't even thought about what it meant to be the best friend of the 'Boy Who Lived' before the whispers and barely veiled insults. Before he had seen how people treated Harry.
He knew lots of people would now put the blame on the deaths on Harry; he'd seen the anger in his mother's eyes. There was no such hatred in him. For if he blamed Harry, he'd have to share the blame.
The thought was quenched as soon as it swum into his conscioussness, replaced by the strange calm that had filled him for days now. It made all pain disappear, burying it somewhere so deep it couldn't reach him.
"I know." Harry did. Seeing Ron try made him feel just a little better. At least he hadn't lost everything. "Go to them. We can talk later on." This time, the smile was genuine, even though wan.
Ron nodded, his thoughts already back in Charlie, remembering that he needed to go and get Bill some orange juice. Yes, and then later on, he was supposed to see to it that Percy ate something. He would make sure he did. Without another look at Harry, he left Remus' room, concentrating on his everyday life.
When the door closed behind Ron, Harry let out a shuddering sigh. He pressed the bridge of his nose with his fingers, trying to focus on something else than feeling lousy.
"I'm sorry."
The soft words didn't even startle him. "Yeah." Still not looking at Remus, who was now wide awake, he added, "It'll be all right." He didn't really know what he meant with his words. His own life or Ron's? Their whole world?
Remus watched how Harry collected himself, hating the way he so obviously pushed his grief away. He wanted to tell him that it was all right to lose control and mourn, but something in Harry's determined look made him stay silent. Then the moment was lost as the door opened and Snuffles bounced in, going straight to Harry to lick his face.
Part 5 "Phoenix." The word came out tonelessly.
Harry knew it was barely two pm, but he was already exhausted. It had been a long morning, but still the hours he'd spent with Sirius and Remus and then the short visit to the owlery to see Hedwig had seemed to fly by.
Dragging his feet, he walked to the staircase that was already rolling up, riding them the whole way to Dumbledore's offices.
He didn't need to knock on the door, for it was already ajar, waiting for him to enter. Hearing the soft voices coming from inside, he once again straightened his back, determined not to look like he felt. He didn't want to show his weariness and pain to anyone right now.
Plastering a look of indifference on his face, Harry stepped into the room.
Seeing Fudge sit on the couch, drinking tea and smiling at Dumbledore made him want to turn around and walk away. He didn't want to do this right now, didn't really want to do anything beyond simply going back to the dungeons and crawling into bed.
"Harry. How nice of you to join us!" Dumbledore gestured him to come and sit down. "Allow me to pour you some tea." Without waiting for a reply, he grabbed the tea pot.
"Ah. Harry Potter! Yes, yes do sit down." Smiling a polite and obviously false smile, Fudge nodded at Harry.
Harry took the offered cup and then sat down on a chair opposite to the Headmaster. The cup warmed his icy fingers.
He didn't engage in the pleasantries Dumbledore and Fudge exchanged, choosing to remain mostly silent. Nodding here and there, he sat there, listening.
Soon, they would get to the reason of this meeting. Harry was familiar with the long and winding speeches Fudge tended to give people he wanted to impress, and he didn't really listen to him. He needed to keep his energy until they actually got to the point.
He wasn't sure he could smile and talk about the lovely weather for long minutes and then talk about death without wanting to scream.
It had been bad enough at St. Mungo's, where Remus had looked at him with such a terrible knowing in his eyes.
He had wanted to curl next to him and Sirius and just be there, like he did at night with Snape, without any thoughts or words. It was all he wanted right now, to be able to concentrate on himself and let others deal with everything else.
Harry raised the cup to his lips, not really tasting the tea, but noticing the warmth that seeped into him as he sipped it.
This was it; the moment he'd been expecting. Strange, but he'd thought it would be some kind of a spectacle. Not three men sitting in a quiet room, drinking tea. But no matter how small the occasion was, to him it was the most profound ever. He had been asked to come here to be a part of this, to have his say, and by simply appearing, he had made the choice he had dreaded for so long.
Smiling a cynical little smile, he let Dumbledore and Fudge finish with their overly polite small talk. He might have to live with his choice, but he was going to do it his own way.
"More tea?" Once again not waiting for the nods, Dumbledore refilled their cups. Then he leaned back on his chair, his expression serious.
That seemed to be a signal for Fudge as well. Looking somber, he said, "Yes. Well, there is some urgent business we need to tend to, but first, Harry, allow me to offer my condolences for your loss."
Harry felt a very inappropriate urge to laugh in his face, but settled for a nod. He didn't say anything about the way Fudge was using his name. It wasn't the first time he said it like that, but Harry had never liked the sound of it less. He wondered if he should join this game somehow.
It made no real difference what he called the man. The game looked just as meaningless as the one Malfoy had played at the cottage and he wanted no part in it. "Thank you, Minister."
A small smile flickered on Fudge's lips, and he seemed to enjoy his hollow victory. "Yes, a terrible thing, really. Foolish hooligans playing tricks. I'm appalled that what was undoubtedly meant as a prank got so out of hands."
"Cornelius." Looking very calm, but determined, Dumbledore said, "It was no random prank. The Muggles at Privet Drive were attacked at the same time as the Weasleys were. And there were other incidents as you well know."
Fudge put his cup down, clearly displeased by the words. "I do admit that it sounds a bit strange, but..."
"The attacks were well planned." It was as if Dumbledore didn't pay any attention to Fudge's protests. "Small groups of people using the darkness of the night as their cover, killing and maiming. Does that sound familiar to you?"
While Fudge shook his head so hard it made his hair stand on end, Harry fought against the images of his dreams. Not only the ones he'd had recently, but the nightmares he'd had during the years. Some clearly conjured up by his imagination after he'd learned about the Death Eaters, some memories of the things he'd seen.
He knew people didn't want to believe it was happening again. Those who had survived the first war against Voldemort's people probably prayed it was simply a rumor.
Three dead people were not a rumor. No one could deny their existence.
Fudge was still shaking his head. "It's not possible. You must be mistaken. There is no indication whatsoever that... No. It's not happening."
"Yes, it is." To his surprise, Harry said that out loud. "We don't want it to happen, but it doesn't change the fact that it is real."
At the same time, Dumbledore nodded, "Voldemort has returned." The words seemed to echo in the room, making the shadows in the corners grow until they looked like they were going to swallow up all the light.
"You can not be serious!" Fudge sounded outraged.
"I am, Cornelius. I am. According to eyewitnesses, there were dark robed people attacking both Privet Drive and the Burrow. Some of our staff -- including professor McGonagall -- saw the same people burn Hagrid's hut. They were all wearing masks and they left behind the Dark Mark burning in the sky." Dumbledore shook his head. "Why is it so hard for you to see the truth?"
Harry didn't say anything, but he knew the answer to that. It was like when he'd been younger, hearing Aunt Petunia soothe Dudley who had thought there was a monster under the bed. Fudge was acting like a child, telling himself there was no threat from Voldemort, almost believing it was true.
Nothing had ever made him change his mind, not the yearly Death Eater raids, not Harry's testimonies -- some under Veritaserum -- about Voldemort.
"I..." With some considerable effort, Fudge straightened himself. "They could have been impostors. People who want to cherish the memory of You-Know-Who. I have read the Muggles do that with their monsters. So why not deranged wizards?"
"Both Arthur and Bill Weasley report that they saw one of the attackers push down his hood and that he had long, white hair. Does that sound familiar to you?"
As Fudge choked at that, Harry closed his eyes in pain. Sympathy for Draco Malfoy was definitely a new emotion. He deserved it now.
He knew that Lucius Malfoy hadn't revealed his identity by mistake. It had been a declaration of war, something that went beyond the sniping between him and Arthur Weasley whenever they met. Harry knew that he had probably taken great pleasure of what had happened that night. What he had done.
"It couldn't have been Lucius Malfoy! He's an upstanding citizen!" It was clear by Fudge's tone that he didn't believe it any more than the others did. His gaze was full of terrible fear.
Words of anger were already on Harry's lips. He wasn't only angry, he was shocked. He hadn't even left school yet, wasn't considered a full adult in the wizarding world and yet he could face the truth so much easier than this man. The Minister for Magic was the leader of their world, and he was willing to bury his head in the sand. Burying their whole world with him.
Dumbledore's voice rang out before he could say a thing. He sounded sad, but firm. "Cornelius, we both know it's true. They will come, no matter what you tell yourself. If you can't see that, you will forever be remembered as the man who condemned our world."
That seemed to penetrate Fudge's shields. He jolted as if being struck by a lightning, looking up. His eyes were huge, filled with fear.
It made Harry feel sick to his stomach.
He didn't want to see the leaders of their world like this. Some part of him wanted to believe in their absolute wisdom and that they would protect everyone from whatever monsters lurked in the shadows. He couldn't afford that now, when he could see the awful truth before him.
An old man who didn't have enough power to really do everything people might want to give him credit for. Harry hated that knowledge, for he truly revered Dumbledore. He hated knowing the truth about Fudge even more, for the man didn't even try. He simply hid his head in a bush and hoped every bad thing would just disappear.
Was this really what their world had to offer? Were they really going to fight against Voldemort like this?
Harry knew there was only one other option. The one he hated the most.
He met Dumbledore's gaze, seeing the sad and serious look there. It made him almost cringe.
Fudge was taking deep breaths, controlling himself with considerable effort. "Yes, well we must consider this situation very carefully indeed." He was pushing the shock away with obvious unease.
It was clear that he was not about to discuss it more now, changing the subject with aplomb, focusing his gaze on Harry. "Actually, There is something else I wished to talk about."
His very blatant dismissal of three deaths didn't even surprise Harry. He hadn't expected anything else. If this was truly the way politics made people act, he didn't want anything to do with the Ministry after the war.
Dumbledore simply poured more tea.
"I came here to offer you a job. With the Ministry. We need someone with your... qualities."
The slight pause made Harry smile wryly. He wondered just exactly what qualities Fudge meant. His skills in DADA? His fame and reputation? "I'm... flattered." It was clear from Dumbledore's slight smile that his hesitation wasn't missed either. "But I haven't even passed all my N.E.W.T.s yet. I can't possibly take a job."
"That will not be a problem. We can take care of the paperwork." As the Minister for Magic, Fudge knew it really wouldn't be a big thing.
Harry nodded slightly, trying to hide his nausea. Was this really the way things would go from now on? Doors opened, rules bent. He wondered what Fudge really intended him to do with the Ministry, probably smile at reporters and then stay out of their way until it was the time for him to sacrifice himself for the good of their world, fighting someone Fudge didn't even want to believe existed anymore. "I appreciate the offer."
It was polite, but a complete lie.
"But I can't accept it. I really have to finish school first, and then I need some time to figure out what I want to do." Time to do the thing he really didn't want to.
There was a disappointed look on Fudge's face. This was definitely not his day.
Trying to cover his disappointment, he cast a glance at the clock, feigning surprise. "Goodness! I hadn't realized how late it is!" It was almost half past two. "Albus, thank you for the tea, but I really must go now." He was up before Dumbledore could even say anything.
"Of course." Following Fudge's lead, Dumbledore got to his feet, gesturing towards the door. "It has been a pleasure as always."
Harry got up as well, wishing he could lie as well as the Headmaster did. "Minister." He didn't even try to think of anything else to say. It would sound forced anyway.
Fudge nodded at both of them. Then he hurried out of the room.
"That was... unpleasant." Harry slumped back on the chair. He was too tired to mind his words, even with the Headmaster.
"I do believe that in time, he will come to see things more clearly." Smiling slightly, Dumbledore sat as well. "Sherbet Lemon?"
Harry shook his head. "No thank you." He wasn't in the mood for anything sweet right now.
The offered treat would be followed by soft words, and Harry didn't want those either. In the silence, he wished that Dumbledore wouldn't ask any inane questions about how he was doing. Any platitudes he could invent would be lies and he didn't want to think about the truth now.
"Fudge may sound reluctant to commit himself in anything, but he has increased Auror patrols everywhere. I doubt there'll be any attacks for a while."
Harry wasn't amazed by the calm words. He wanted to believe the Death Eaters would lay low for some time, but deep inside he had to wonder if they could really have the time they needed to get ready for what was going to happen. "Good." At least Fudge wasn't a total idiot.
"I was wondering if you feel like taking your N.E.W.T.s now." Keeping his expression bland, Dumbledore asked that as if they were indeed back to being a Headmaster and a simple student.
It was a relief. Then the meaning of the words registered. "Now?" For a moment Harry felt utter panic at the thought. Then he could see the twinkle in Dumbledore's eyes. "Oh, I thought..." He actually smiled at his own silliness. "Yeah. I think it would be best if I took them now."
He wanted this over with. Leaving school was a signpost in a wizard's life, and he knew he needed to pass that before he could go on. A part of him begged to be left alone, to cling to his past life for as long as he could, but he crushed such childishness ruthlessly.
"Splendid.." Handing out a piece of parchment, Dumbledore said quietly, "I took the liberty of making a schedule for your exams. Charms, Transfigurations and DADA are mandatory, but I see you chose Care of Magical Creatures as well."
"I... If I may, I'd like to drop that." It had sounded like a good idea at the time, but there was really no time to read for yet another exam. Besides, he'd only chosen it to make Hagrid happy, and Hagrid wasn't here anymore.
With a very knowing look, Dumbledore simply nodded. "That would seem like a wise thing to do right now. All right then." He tapped the parchment with his wand, and some of the ink disappeared. "There. I also heard you have already passed Potions and Divinations."
"Yes. Professor Snape gave us the exam while we were away." Letting some of the disgusted amusement he felt about the whole Divinations thing, Harry added, "And apparently professor Trelawney has seen fit to award me with a grade I do not deserve."
There was no comment on that. "Since professor Pahicna is no longer available, I will give you the exam on DADA."
Harry nodded. He was grateful the Headmaster was doing this himself. The only other person in Hogwarts qualified for such a thing was Snape and he refused to even think about what would happen if Snape had to reassume his duty as his teacher.
Almost as if reading his thoughts, Dumbledore coughed slightly. "That brings me to the subject of your living arrangements. I noticed you aren't staying in the Gyffindor tower."
"No." It still amazed Harry how every time he tried to sound firm and independent in these offices, his words came out with an almost petulant whine. At least this time he managed not to babble.
He saw the knowing look in Dumbledore's eyes, and couldn't help feeling resentment; the feeling that had always made him feel uncomfortable. He liked the old Headmaster very much, but sometimes he simply couldn't take the not so subtle manipulation. "And I'm not going to move back there. I'm perfectly comfortable in the dungeons."
As the silence stretched, he wondered if he should say more. That Snape was no longer his teacher, that he was old enough to make decisions for himself. That he would not let anyone dictate his life, not on this. His future was already set, by years of guidance and tutoring, mostly done by this man. This was something he chose for himself.
Harry sat there, not saying anything. He was not going to explain himself. Not now. He respected Dumbledore more than anyone, but he was not going to let his opinion affect what was between him and Snape.
"Harry..." Sighing, Dumbledore fell silent. There was no real twinkle in his eyes, only a tired look. "Please tell Severus I would appreciate it if you both joined us for breakfast in the Great Hall tomorrow morning."
"Of course." Cringing at the thought of actually telling that to Snape, Harry nodded anyway.
Dumbledore seemed to think that the matter was settled. "Good. I do believe you should stay here at Hogwarts for a bit longer, at least until we make other arrangements. After you pass your exams, I would like you to move to Hogsmeade. There is a house waiting for you there."
That made Harry look up in wonder. He hadn't really thought that far ahead.
"The Order will gather here in the beginning, but I would like to make Hogsmeade our new headquarters. Hogwarts is a school, not a command center."
"I see." Harry did, better than most would think. He could bet that even if the Order moved to Hogsmeade, Dumbledore would remain here. "Sounds good, sir. It would be too dangerous to stay here, especially when the school starts again."
There was really no other option for him but to accept this. He had no wishes, no dreams beyond peace. Staying in Hogsmeade with the Order would be a nightmare at times, but he knew it was the only way he could ever achieve what he wanted.
"Yes. The house will be perfectly safe." Dumbledore didn't add that Privet Drive should have been a safe place as well. They both knew it. "It belongs to you, courtesy of the Order, so in case you want to invite others to live there as well, you're quite welcome to do so. I would imagine your godfather might appreciate the opportunity of spending more time with you."
Harry's eyes widened, both with the shock of being handed a whole house so casually and with joy at the thought. It had been one of his biggest dreams since his third year here, to be able to live with Sirius, as a real family. If he couldn't stay here, that would be more than enough. "Thank you."
They both finished their tea in silence.
It was a relief to escape the Headmaster's offices a while later. Holding the exam schedule in his hand, Harry walked through the corridors, nodding at the few professors he saw but not staying to chat with anyone.
He'd already been beat when he'd come back from St. Mungo's and now he was completely exhausted. Life had been so simple and calm for so long, days filled with nothing more complicated than easy chores. It was difficult to get used to the hectic rhythm of life here. His mind was so full of details he was afraid his head was about to explode.
It was good to go to the dungeons. He couldn't think of the Gryffindor tower as his home anymore, it would never be a home without his housemates. For now, home was the small apartment downstairs.
He refused to think about how that would change soon. With everything already changing, he didn't need to worry about that as well.
The smell of Bubotuber pus welcomed him, and he smiled slightly at the familiarity of the smell. He wondered if every Muggleborn wizard would always connect the smell with petrol. Pushing the door open -- how nice of Snape to make the door respond to his touch as well -- he announced, "I'm back."
"Yes, Potter. I can see that." Wiping his forehead with a rag, Snape glanced from where he was stirring a cauldron. "How was your day?" The clipped tone indicated that it was an actual question.
Harry sighed. "I'll tell you all about it later." He probably would, too. Things were happening so fast he needed to organize his thoughts. First, he'd try that on his own, then he'd talk to Snape. It had always been a good idea before.
Accepting that with a nod, Snape turned back to his potion. He knew that whatever Fudge had wanted had not been easy on Harry, and he would hear about it when Harry was ready. Their silences were calm and he would have plenty of time to finish his task before they would sit down and talk about today.
He didn't hurry with his work. It was good to clean the table while the final batch of the potion bubbled in the cauldron. He noticed how Harry busied himself with some parchment for a while and then went to his now enlarged trunk to collect his books.
The quiet domesticity should probably have annoyed Snape, but he couldn't conjure up the emotion even though he did try. He had been certain the simplicity of the silence had been marred by weeks of physical contact and it was actually pleasant to see that wasn't the case.
Things were quite back to the way they had been, with that one exception.
When Snape finally put the cauldron to dry after some rather furious scrubbing, it was already time for dinner. He was a bit amazed to see how late it was. Harry had simply sat on the couch for hours, his nose buried in his Transfigurations book, not saying anything the whole time.
"Do you want to go to the Great Hall for dinner, or should I order us something?" Snape asked, already knowing the answer.
Harry looked up, startled at the sudden question. He glanced at the clock, his eyes widening a little. "Oh. I hadn't noticed it's so late." Slamming the book shut, he added, "I don't really feel like going anywhere right now, but if you want to..."
"Spare me the platitudes, Potter." This was the one thing they agreed on completely. It was always more pleasurable to eat in peace. Ignoring the impish grin Harry threw at him, Snape contacted the house elves and then went to the bathroom to wash his hands.
Like the evening before, the dinner was brought by a strangely dressed house elf. Snape didn't say anything about the mismatched pair of socks the small creature wore or the way he seemed to be unable to pass Harry without patting him on the knee. He'd stopped wondering about the mismatched group of people and beings Harry undoubtedly called friends a long time ago.
The house elf seemed to make Harry smile a genuine smile. Not many things did these days, so Snape managed to hold his tongue.
"Thanks, Dobby." Harry nodded at the house elf as he sat down, breathing in the wonderful scents coming from the plates. Even the lingering odor of the potion didn't spoil this.
Casting a wary look at Snape, the house elf patted Harry's knee one more time and then disappeared with a snap of his fingers.
The way Harry attacked the meal immediately and kept his attention on the food was a clear sign that he didn't want to talk about anything right now. Snape didn't mind, realizing he was famished himself. The food was excellent and the house elves had even added some chocolate cake to the tray.
Snape decided he could indulge, enjoying a slice of the cake with his tea. He didn't miss the relieved expression on Harry's face as he shoveled the sweet dessert from the plate.
He waited until they were both finished with eating and lingered over their tea. Even though there were no windows in the dungeons, it felt like it was late, making the atmosphere down here drowsy and mellow. Always a good time to a conversation.
"Talk to me." It wasn't exactly the same sentence Snape had used so often in the past. Then it had been a curt command. This was more of a question; a soft encouragement.
Harry sighed. "When I was at St. Mungo's... I didn't go to see Charlie, because I thought they wouldn't want me to be there. And I was right. Ron..." He swallowed, feeling his throat tighten. This was not the time for tears. He didn't want to make everything to be about his problems, Snape didn’t need to suffer through this.
It was strange, how that look on Harry's face made Snape tense. He felt a surge of anger course through him; an irrational emotion that paled his earlier protectiveness. Deciding to wait until Harry continued, he sipped from his cup.
"Ron talked with me, and I think we're all right." Harry's eyes shone with both joy and unshed tears. He hadn't allowed himself to even think about their friendship before seeing Ron again, knowing that if he started to doubt that, he'd go insane.
Not even Snape's presence could soften some blows.
"He'll be staying with his family, I think." They hadn't really got to talk about that. "At least until the funeral. It's this weekend." He added quietly, "It's just for the Weasleys."
Snape picked out the word 'family' immediately, understanding why Harry was so sad again. He didn't know whom to curse; the redheads who had seemed to offer something unconditional to this young man only to yank it away when he most needed it or the Dark Lord. Neither would change anything, but it would make him feel slightly better. "I see."
"Yeah." Harry didn’t really need Snape to say anything more. They both knew what he meant. "I know it’s not..." he hesitated for a moment and then said it anyway, not certain he really believed in it. "I know it wasn’t my doing, but I still... feel responsible. And I don’t blame them if they think that it was my fault. I think that on some level it sort of was. At least things would be different now if I'd been here."
He hated this feeling of uncertainty. Thinking that he might have been able to do something didn’t make this any easier, but he couldn’t help himself.
"You're absolutely right," Snape said, nodding. His gaze was burning with intensity. "Things would be different if you hadn't followed young Malfoy and me to the cottage."
It was true on many accounts, including this ridiculous predicament he found himself in. Without those long weeks spent together, he would not have Harry Potter in his bed.
Harry stared into Snape's eyes, trembling slightly. He knew this already, knew what he was about to say. It was still hard to accept, especially since no-one else would likely see it this way. "They would all still be dead, wouldn't they?"
"Yes. The difference is that you would be too. Or at least you'd be in the hands of the Dark Lord. The Order would destroy itself trying to save you, and then the whole wizarding world would be lost."
The whole situation was totally unfair to everyone, mostly to Harry. Nothing could change it anymore, so they would simply have to deal with what they had.
Putting down his cup before his trembling hands made him spill some of the tea on his lap, Harry took a better position on the couch, needing a moment to think about this. Somehow hearing the words out loud or saying them always made everything real. It was like a revealing charm from which no dark thought could really hide.
There were so many things he didn’t want to think about right now, but there were also things that made him feel better. Not only Sirius and Remus, but being able to stay here for a bit longer as well. He had dreaded that, to be forced to move out now, to be alone with his thoughts.
Dumbledore’s words about finishing his schoolyear had been a relief, but the move was still waiting in the not so far future.
Harry looked up, his gaze tired. "Dumbledore said there's a house waiting for me in Hogsmeade."
It was news to Snape, but hardly a surprise. "Did he say when you're supposed to move in?" A whole house for one man? There had better be good wards around it or maybe a guard or two.
Snape wasn't exactly thrilled about the idea, even though it would bring him back his beloved solitude. Having Harry spend his time alone in the Gryffindor tower had been unacceptable. The thought of him staying alone in a house in Hogsmeade was equally disturbing.
"Not really. I'll stay here at least for as long as it takes me to get through the exams." That wouldn't take long. Harry wasn't really interested in his grades; all he wanted was to pass. "Dumbledore said something about Order meetings as well, so I guess we'll just have to wait and see."
He wasn't in any hurry to go through that again, glad there hadn't been a crowd waiting for him when he'd come back. Sooner or later he would be required to attend a meeting, but he'd rather it was later. There were already so many things he had to concentrate on, he couldn't really deal with anything else right now.
"Will that mean you'll be staying here in my quarters until you move to Hogsmeade?" It was not an invitation or a real offer, but it wasn't a serious question either. Snape knew exactly what Harry would say to that.
Glad he didn't have to ask for it -- or beg -- Harry smiled. "Yes."
He knew it was simply about living arrangements. Nothing in Snape's demeanor had hinted that he'd be willing to allow anything more, and right now, Harry didn't have the energy to fight with him. This was what he needed, and it was more than enough to sleep next to Snape.
Letting out a muffled snort, Snape refused to even comment on the silly expression. He didn't say anything about the way Harry once again leaned closer to him a moment later either.
Part 6 It had only been a few days since they returned, but the time spent at the cottage was already beginning to fade into a memory. Harry tried to stop from time to time, to try to grasp the strangely timeless feeling he'd had for months, but it didn't work. What had felt like an endless moment caught between the mad rush of reality was forever gone, replaced by the routine he'd followed for years.
Harry kept reading for the exams, even though he knew it was of little use. He wasn't going to be able to concentrate on this for long. Instead of the weeks he'd spent on studying for the Potions exam, there would only be days, maybe not even that.
Even though the reading he'd done earlier this spring helped, he knew he would have to study for weeks if he really wanted to get decent grades. None of that mattered now. His goal was to leave school, to be seen officially as a grown up. He didn’t know why it felt so vital right now, but he didn’t want to face the world if Fudge or Dumbledore could still see him legally as a child.
Hurrying through what would have been the most important thing in any other young wizard's life, Harry ignored everything else.
The DADA exam was the easiest one. He didn't really even study for that, the years he'd attended to Order meetings made sure he didn't have to. He knew it and Dumbledore knew it. Transfigurations was a bit harder, but most Gryffindors had always done well in that class, just like the Slytherins drove to excel in the Potions classroom. It was a matter of House pride to not fail in a subject the Head of their House taught.
He knew that in both the Transfigurations and the Charms test, the professors had been easy on him. It usually annoyed him, but right now he didn't really care. Neither McGonagall nor Flitwick simply allowed him to pass, so it was enough.
Dumbledore seemed to understand him and the DADA exam was as difficult as he'd thought. Receiving his only A -- and the Divinations didn't count -- made Harry actually feel almost as proud as he'd been after getting his Potions exam back. He deserved both grades and no one could argue that.
Walking back home from Dumbledore's office with his diploma in hand, he didn't feel any different than mere days ago, when he'd agreed to take the exams.
He was an adult now, in every sense of the word. Able to make his own decisions about life; to build a family if he so desired, open a vault in Gringotts without needing anyone's permission.
Go and live in that surprisingly large house he'd visited yesterday. Go and live there all alone.
The faint flickering light from the torches painted shadows on his face, turning his carefully schooled expression almost into a sneer. It matched his mood perfectly, as did the familiar stone walls around him. He wasn't allowed to enjoy his new status for even a day. Now that the official school business was over and done, it was time for the official Order business.
Sighing, he turned the corner and walked past the Potions classroom without even really noticing the doorway. The Slytherin dungeons had stopped intimidating him ages ago.
In fact, he rarely even thought about them as the 'Slytherin' dungeons.
Maybe his mind was indeed playing dangerous games with him. Even though he was well aware of how short lived this all was, this place was now what he associated with the word home.
He cast a disgusted look at the rolled up parchment in his hand. With the N.E.W.T.s passed, Hogwarts would never again be his real home, unless he came back here to teach. That didn't seem probable, not with the grades he'd got from most of the exams. The only subject he would ever be able to teach was DADA and after facing death and destruction in reality over and over again, it was the last thing he wanted to make a living out of.
Pushing unpleasant thoughts away was a reflex by now. He'd practiced it so long and so hard it had become almost an art form. He smiled at that, but it was a sad little smile. Very soon, there would be no need to hide from his worries, for the time to hide was over.
A soft whisper echoed in the hallway.
Harry startled as he saw the doorway leading to the Slytherin common room open, accompanied by a faint sound of the password being muttered. Warily, he moved his hand to grab his wand.
"Oh. It's you." He almost groaned at the stupid thing that escaped his mouth. Seeing Draco Malfoy step into the corridor without a warning did that to him. He hadn't even thought about him after getting back to Hogwarts, except for that slight twinge he’d felt when he’d heard it had been Lucius Malfoy who had lead the raid against the Weasleys.
Suddenly he realized that Malfoy had to be living in the common room, just like he would have stayed in the Gryffindor tower if Snape hadn't let him into the dungeon.
It made him shiver a little.
"Potter." Nodding slightly, Malfoy waited until the doorway closed behind him, and then rushed towards the staircase. He didn't walk with his usual swagger, keeping close to the wall as he went, as if he wanted to blend into the grey stone.
Harry stared after him, not liking what he saw. If Malfoy spent all his time in Hogwarts, why hadn't he seen him in the Great Hall? After Dumbledore's words, he and Snape had indeed had breakfast with the rest of the staff -- arriving separately with Harry going to the Gryffindor table and Snape taking his usual place at the Head Table of course -- and there had never been any sign of Malfoy there.
It was too late to ask now, as Malfoy disappeared from sight, only his hurried footsteps echoing in the hallway.
Pushing his wand back under his robes, Harry turned around and headed home.
The warm gust of scented air that greeted him made him smile despite his somber thoughts. No Bubotuber pus this time, only herbs and something else. For a moment Harry couldn't catch the elusive scent, but then he realized it was simply tea.
He'd got so used to Snape brewing potions, smelling his afternoon tea was almost a shock. Still smiling to himself, he went to grab a cup, knowing that there would be enough tea left for him as well. There always was these days, when every meal here was served for two.
"There's milk over there." With a negligent gesture, Snape barely cast a glance at Harry before returning his attention to a book he was browsing through.
Harry padded to the couch and sat down heavily. He didn't think he was really hungry, but he poured himself some tea anyway. And grabbed a scone. He could always have a scone, even when he wasn't hungry. Munching it with relish, he took a few sips of the tea, and then reached out for another scone.
Placing the book on the table, Snape finally raised his gaze to Harry. He frowned slightly as he saw the way he sprawled on the couch, looking desolate. Had the idiot failed with his exams? He wouldn't be surprised. Even Granger wouldn't have been brave -- or stupid -- enough to take all the N.E.W.T.s in such a short time.
Then he realized that he was most likely completely wrong with his deduction.
"I see congratulations are in order," Snape said, nodding at the parchment Harry had so carelessly dropped on the table.
"Yeah." It came out as a mumble. Harry couldn't really be happy about leaving school. It should have been different from this; all the Gryffindors celebrating together and then sneaking to Hogsmeade to get really drunk now that they kind of could.
Snape cast another sharp gaze at him, but didn't comment on his tone. He was used to seeing this side of Harry, even though he got no pleasure in witnessing such gloom.
Finishing with his third scone, Harry sighed. "I saw Malfoy in the corridor."
"And?" It was clear that there was more. Snape realized they hadn't talked about Draco Malfoy since they'd returned. It was no different from dozens of other things they hadn't talked about; unlike earlier, Harry seemed to be content with simply being here. The silence was slightly disconcerting.
"And nothing, really. I just didn't realize he'd be staying here. In the Slytherin common room, I mean." Harry didn't add that he was kind of shocked about that.
"There's no other place for him to go." There was no emotion in Snape's voice. "The moment he walks away from Hogwarts and my protection, he's dead. He knows that just as well as I do."
Harry looked down. He didn't know why he was feeling this lousy. Malfoy didn't need his pity, wouldn't want his concern. They were not friends, but even with the weirdness between Malfoy and Ron, Harry couldn't hate him anymore. He didn't want to think about the fact that the Slytherin was staying in the common room alone, didn't want to remember how he'd turned his back on all his friends and his family.
That simple decision of not joining the Death Eaters had left Malfoy completely alone. His only lifeline was a man who was just as despised by the general public as he most probably was. Someone, who up to this point, had lived his life in the solitude of his chambers.
He looked at Snape. "Dumbledore said that Lucius Malfoy was one of the Death Eaters attacking the Burrow." It wouldn't surprise him to hear that he'd personally killed the two Weasleys.
"I rather suspected he would be." Snape nodded. The rivalry between Lucius and Arthur might not be as open as it was between their sons, but there had always been mutual contempt between them. He knew Lucius Malfoy, better than he would like to, and he knew that killing for pleasure was definitely something he would do. "I will talk to Draco about it."
Harry raised an eyebrow at the use of Malfoy's name, but decided against commenting on it. There was an ugly echo in the family name anyway.
He sat in silence for a moment. This was so familiar by now, the companionable mood, Snape's calm presence. He didn't want to say anything or do anything, just wanted to be here and yet that was the one thing that he couldn't have tonight.
"Dumbledore also said..." He cleared his throat, feeling it squeeze shut at the memory of the compassionate look in the blue eyes. "He said that we should go to his offices tonight after dinner. That... There'll be others coming too."
Remus and Sirius wouldn't be there, both still staying in St. Mungo's due to Remus' slight relapse right after the full moon. But there would be others, people he had worked with for years.
"I see," Snape said quietly. He had noticed that there were more people in the Great Hall these days, familiar faces everywhere. The Order was coming together, and very soon the real preparations for the war would begin.
None too early in his opinion. They should have done this ages ago.
Harry nodded sadly. "Yeah." He didn't want to talk about this now. The evening would come soon enough.
As usual, Snape had some work to do, and he concentrated on his potion without paying any attention to Harry. It was a relief, leaving Harry time to relax on the couch. Once again it was strange to simply be. He almost felt guilty for not holding a textbook in his hands.
There was no need for that anymore. No need to read about transfiguring living beings into inanimate objects or about the ever-changing currents of magical energy. Moping because he never had to study again felt slightly ridiculous, but Harry couldn't help it. He hated this.
Letting out a suffering sigh -- keeping it quiet enough not to catch Snape's attention -- he lay down, resting his head on the armrest. With nothing real to concentrate on anymore, he had to deal with the fact that he wouldn't be able to push all those unpleasant things out of his mind anymore. He'd been doing it ever since he'd come back from the cottage, not thinking about not seeing Snape again, not thinking about the deaths. Avoiding going anywhere near his relationship with Snape or his future life outside Hogwarts.
No wonder people like Fudge were unable to face the reality. Harry wasn't that keen on facing parts of it either, and for the same reason, it seemed; if he didn't talk or even think about it, it might all go away and he could continue his life in peace.
The only thing was that it would never go away. There was no Boggart in the closet and the horrors out there were all too real.
Harry Potter, the Hogwarts graduate was also reality. The change that would bring would not go away even if he tried not to think about it.
Not saying anything about his thoughts, he watched Snape finish with his brewing. They ate dinner in an almost fragile silence, but Harry was constantly reminded of what would come next.
He wasn't going to do this anymore. The exams were over and he couldn't avoid talking, not with the Order, not with Snape. After the evening's meeting, he would have to sit down with Snape and finally deal with the situation he'd found himself in.
Maybe Snape really wouldn't want to be with him like that again. There had been no indication of conscious efforts of him being more open – no more things -- and besides sleeping together and the embrace that first, awful night, Snape had not touched him, not even once.
Losing whatever little he had would be too much right now, but he couldn't live like this either. Hiding from the world was one thing, hiding from himself was worse.
It was no wonder Harry was in a somber mood when they finally left the dungeons.
The corridors downstairs were empty and dark. Harry wondered if Malfoy might appear in the meeting as well, but then realized no one had probably even thought to ask him. That had to change, soon. Maybe he'd talk to Malfoy himself, as soon as he knew exactly what to say.
Professor Flitwick joined them in the hallway before Harry and Snape had the chance to agree on which one should go first this time. The small Charms teacher didn't seem to find anything strange about them walking together and after offering Harry his condolences once again, he gestured for them to hop on the staircase that was conveniently arriving from the second floor.
Not saying anything, Harry followed the two teachers.
There were others hurrying towards the gargoyle, all Hogwarts staff. Professor McGonagall cast a very sharp look at Harry, her gaze going to Snape an instant later. For a moment, Harry worried she might say something. As the Head of his House, she'd known all along where he was staying, and he was sure she disapproved.
McGonagall only nodded and said, "Severus." Turning to Harry, she added, "I was happy to hear about your exams, Mr. Potter." Her stern expression melted to show her delight.
Her sentiment seemed genuine, so he smiled at her. "Thank you, professor."
That exchange of words brought forward more congratulations from the other professors, some looking slightly miffed by the fact that they hadn't heard already.
It felt insane to lead the professors into the Headmaster's office. Harry shrugged the feeling off, knowing he'd have to get used to it sooner or later and this wasn't as bad as most of the things he'd imagined.
Letting the staircase carry him up, he focused on his breathing, smiling cynically as he realized the panic that his hyperventilating would undoubtedly cause everyone. As soon as he reached the door, he slipped in and then went to stand in the farthest away corner with barely a nod to Dumbledore.
"Welcome, Harry," Dumbledore said, his lips curled to a gentle smile. "Good to see you here."
Harry managed to answer the smile, but he couldn't really lie to the Headmaster now could he? He wasn't exactly happy to be back here like this.
Sighing, he concentrated on the people filing in.
The crowd in the office was small, familiar people he'd known for years. Harry was grateful for that. He'd been half expecting there to be hundreds of people.
Some of those he was used to seeing here were absent. Sirius and Remus were of course still at St. Mungo's. There were a few youngsters freshly out of Hogwarts, but Harry could easily see that there were no Gryffindors amongst them, no sign of Hermione or any of the Weasleys.
Most of the professors had come here. He was amazed to see even Trelawney sitting on the couch, holding a tea cup and chatting happily with professor Sprout. Such a jovial look on her face was almost unreal. Harry was only used to seeing it when she was busy predicting his horrendous future.
That thought finally brought a real grin to his face. How disappointed she had to be now that most of her predictions had gone totally wrong. She'd always said he wouldn't live to leave Hogwarts, yet here he was, alive and well.
Keeping that firmly in mind, he surveyed the others. He missed Hagrid's huge form, so used to seeing him in the larger Order gatherings. Remembering what Malfoy had said about Voldemort's plans before they'd left to the cottage, he couldn't help feeling relieved by his absence. It was much safer in France than it was here. At least now Voldemort couldn't use their friendship against him.
As the people milled around, trying to find a place to sit, the sound of pleasantries being changed filled the room. Some of the professors threw curious looks at Harry, but no one approached him. Glad of the fact, he kept his eyes on the door, wondering if this was it or if there would still be more people coming.
To his surprise, Filch was the last one to appear. The caretaker banged the door shut behind him and then leaned against it, casting dark glances at anyone who made the mistake of looking at him and holding Mrs. Norris close.
"Now that we're all here," Dumbledore started, his hushed voice once again echoing in the room. "I would like to start by welcoming you all. Both those who have attended our small gatherings earlier, and those who are here for the first time."
That made the noise level rise again as people nodded at him and muttered their thank-yous.
"These past few days have been difficult, and I'm afraid there will be even more difficult times ahead. For all of us. But we must remember that our efforts are vital to our world. Without us, our world will fall under the shadow of Voldemort and his Death Eaters."
Harry noticed how those who had just joined their group flinched at the sound of the Dark Lord's name. It made a new emotion stir in him, anger. Sooner or later there would come a day when people would be able to say that out loud with only a disgusted grimace. They would make sure of it.
He mostly ignored Dumbledore's words, having heard it all before. Such grandiose declarations didn't really move him, the simple reactions of these people did.
Dumbledore went on, saying a few words about their organization, mostly for the good of those who had just joined. Harry didn't really listen.
Instead he watched the people. Seeing the abject horror on Trelawney's face as Dumbledore reminded them all of the recent attacks made Harry's stomach cramp. He liked the determination on most of the people who had spent their whole life educating others. He didn't look at Snape, but instead wondered why on earth was McGonagall sitting so calmly next to him, wrapped in her long cloak like she was waiting for the warm summer evening turning into a frosty winter's night any moment now.
To Harry's relief, the Headmaster didn't say anything about Aunt Petunia. He only mentioned the Weasleys in passing, but there were still soft murmurs of sorrow and glances full of regret.
He tried not to look at anyone in the eyes.
"I have called for a meeting. The whole Order of the Phoenix will gather here in three days."
This time Dumbledore's words were met by excited babble. Even though there had been lots of meetings, there had never been one where everyone would be present. No one really knew just how big their order was. Some said hundreds, but there were probably more.
Standing still in his place by the bookshelves, Harry tried to figure out why the announcement didn't fill him with complete horror. He'd thought it might, for even thinking about this little gathering had made him nauseous earlier. Now he was simply calm. He knew it was time to call their troops together and the war was finally moving from the shadows into the open.
"Everyone living at Hogsmeade, I'd appreciate it if you'd accommodate as many people at your houses as possible." Looking at Madam Rosmerta, Dumbledore smiled. "I would say your establishment will be crowded before today is done, Rosmerta."
She grinned at that. "I do believe you might be right on that."
"I will need everyone here to be prepared to give reports at the meeting. Since Remus Lupin will not be present, Arabella, would you please deal with the matter of the dark creatures?"
There was slight hesitation, but she nodded anyway. "I'll have to ask Remus for the final report, but I think it'll be all right."
"Good." Dumbledore turned his attention to the shadowy nook on the other side of the room. "Harry. I would like you to say a few words too. Most of the people who are now joining us are your classmates. You know how to talk to them."
Harry heard most people around him murmur approvingly. He didn't say anything, simply nodded. This time his throat was closing in, preventing any sounds from coming out.
He knew what the Headmaster meant, even if most people would take the kind words at face value. Talk to the newcomers? No. That was not what he would have to do. He'd have to stand up and address the whole crowd, say something heroic and uplifting.
The mere thought brought back the nausea.
He couldn't really think of anything great to say. Wasn't everything important said already? Voldemort needed to be stopped, every effort was welcome; that should be enough. Why did they need him to repeat it again? Was their world so damn dependant on its imaginary heroes?
Some hero he was. What had he ever done to deserve all this? He wouldn't even be here if Voldemort hadn't tried to kill him and his parents. And for what?
Harry blinked. Very slowly, he turned his gaze to Dumbledore, who was still speaking. He couldn't hear any of the words, pure shock was muffling all the sounds.
All around him, people were commenting on the upcoming meeting, making plans. Filch was looking slightly horrified at the idea of people coming to his school, traipsing around unsupervised.
Harry ignored them. His attention was on the Headmaster, who seemed to be avoiding his gaze. Determined not to let this lie, he leaned against the bookshelves. He didn't want to be here, didn't want to know, but he had no real choice. Not this time.
"Good, good!" Nodding at something Sprout had said, Dumbledore looked up. "All right then. We will meet in three days in the Great Hall."
People muttered their answers to him, everyone looking excited about the upcoming event. There were few who could remember the last time the whole Order had gathered at the same time, for it had been almost two decades ago.
Very slowly, the crowd was starting to dissolve, most professors already leaving. Those who'd come to Hogwarts for this meeting seemed to want to stay for a moment and exchange a few words with Dumbledore. A few people cast curious looks at Harry, but no one came to him, probably because of the very cold expression he wasn't even aware of.
He simply waited for everyone to leave.
Harry realized Snape was staring at him questioningly, and he shook his head slightly. He was glad Snape still cared enough to actually wait for him instead of simply disappearing downstairs, but he couldn't go yet. There was something he needed to do now, before he lost his nerve.
Raising an eyebrow, Snape stood up and then walked out, his robes billowing behind him. He could obviously sense that his presence wasn't needed right now.
It was a relief, for this was the one thing Harry had never even considered talking about with Snape. After all the things they’d discussed about, he still couldn’t ask about it.
This would undoubtedly bring the most painful memories to both of them, of pain and losses and decisions that had almost ruined everything, a lifetime of grief and decades of remorse and nightmares.
He wondered if he would talk to Snape about this later on, when he'd had some time to think about whatever Dumbledore would say. Probably. At least he would tell him he knew. Snape deserved his honesty.
There was a soft but definite sound as the door was pulled shut, leaving only two men in the room.
Harry stared at Dumbledore, unsure of how to do this. He'd thought about finding out the reason behind all the insanity for so long; ever since Hagrid had told him that his parents had not indeed died in a car crash. Now that he was so close to the knowledge, he wasn't certain he wanted to know after all.
If he didn't ask, he would never know the truth.
He knew Dumbledore would probably not tell him everything and he could live with that. Once they’d finished with this, he could go to Snape and ask for the rest. Not the details, but the reasons behind everything. Maybe when he knew the basics about this, he could handle the rest of the knowledge and it being Snape who told it to him.
Opening his mouth, Harry hesitated for only a second. Then he forced himself to say, "Albus." He now knew how it must be for Snape to try to call his former Master Voldemort.
The whole idea had sounded hollow and meaningless when he had been talking to Fudge, but there it would have been a part of a game he didn't want to play. This wasn't a game, even though it was once again about the power names could hold.
Harry moved away from the bookshelves, taking a few steps closer to where the Headmaster was sitting. He could hear Fawkes make a questioning thrill and felt his own heart beat so fast he was afraid it would burst.
He knew that he had always been a pawn in this whole thing, and it would be so easy to remain as such. Something in him rebelled against that. If he had to play, he would have to do it his own way, make his own decisions.
If a strong figurehead was what they wanted, that was what they'd get, but he wasn't going to do this without knowing the reason for it. There had always been rumors and whispers, but no one had ever explained it all to him, not in a way that made any sense.
"Yes?" There was still the twinkle in Dumbledore's eyes, but it was accompanied by a strange look.
Harry took a deep breath and released it slowly. Before he could lose all his courage, he asked, "Albus, why did Voldemort kill my parents?"
Part 7 Harry placed his palm on the hard stone wall.
The stones were always so cold here in the corridor, even though it was nice and warm inside Snape's quarters. He sometimes wondered about that, remembering the freezing January afternoons when they had shivered in the Potions classroom, wishing they were somewhere else.
He stood there for a moment and then took the final step towards the wooden door. His palm was cold and the sensation made the coiled snake feel strange, as if it was truly alive, breathing under his touch.
The thought made a part of his mind stir and prepare to let the sibilant whispers come out of his mouth. For a moment he wondered how insane it would be to actually talk to the small ornament. It would suit his mood perfectly to stand here and talk to an inanimate object.
Swallowing the hisses and the hysterical laughter that threatened to escape, Harry simply pressed the snake.
No words were needed. The powerful wards Snape had on the door recognized him immediately, and the door opened without a sound. Harry let out a relieved sigh as he slipped through the doorway. He hadn't been certain he'd make it here.
His mind was still spinning, wanting to reject all the overwhelming information he'd heard just a moment earlier. Only the familiarity of the corridors had guided him down here. For once he was grateful for his need to flee,otherwise he would still be standing outside Dumbledore's offices.
Probably staring into the distance with a shocked look on his face.
Kind of like he was now. It was good to feel the solid door behind him, grounding him to the reality that had suddenly turned into a whirlwind of chaos and weirdness surpassing any he'd ever met in their world. Not even hearing he had a godfather who was wanted for murder had made him feel this unreal. Or this lost.
"Potter?"
Snape's voice broke his reverie, and he blinked slowly, looking up. He focused on all the familiar things that surrounded him; the very solid and real walls, the couch and the small coffee table. Moving slowly, he went to sit on his chair, for once needing to feel the armrests confine him in a certain place and ground him. He couldn't stand the idea of sitting next to Snape on the couch. If he tried, he'd probably crawl all over him and never let go.
"Potter? What is it?" This time the worry was evident in Snape's voice. He leaned forward, putting the parchments he'd been studying down on the table.
Harry took a deep breath. "I'm fine." He was such a poor liar even he didn't believe it.
There was no sarcastic comment, even though he was certain Snape was biting his lip to prevent it from escaping. No questions either, only silence.
"Dumbledore told me..." Harry couldn't really say the rest of it. The explanation had been so insane, he didn't know whether to laugh or cry. Any sound would probably come out as a scream.
Snape waited patiently for him to finish. He had no idea why Harry had insisted on seeing the Headmaster now. It could be anything. When the silence stretched, he prompted, "Yes?"
"He told me why Voldemort killed my parents. Or at least why he thinks he did it. I just..." Making a small gesture with his hand, Harry looked at Snape's now expressionless face. It was saying more than a thousand words.
Snape knew. There were no doubts in his gaze, only the calm stare.
"Wild Magic."
Harry closed his eyes. He didn't want to believe the insanity Dumbledore had told him had actually been true. But if Snape said it too... He would know.
It was incredulous, impossible. He had always thought it would be something grand; a prophecy telling of the Dark Lord's fall or maybe some kind of heroic thing his father was doing that had somehow branded him as well. That would have made sense.
Not this. Feeling the urge to laugh bubble inside just as it had in Dumbledore's office, Harry looked at Snape again. "That's what he said. That Voldemort thought that my father would stand in his way because..." Anger and hysterical amusement flashing in his gaze, he ground out, "Because he was the king stag." A creature of myth.
He'd grinned when Dumbledore had begun his explanation, thinking it was a joke. When the familiar twinkle had disappeared from Dumbledore's gaze, he'd sobered up.
Listening to the quietly spoken words had been strange. Harry had heard all the words, but they had not made any sense to him, almost as if they were in some kind of a foreign language. It was still hard to believe anything Dumbledore had said.
"Yes." Snape could see the disbelief in Harry. He didn't blame him for it. When he'd first heard about the Dark Lord's fears, he'd found them quite ridiculous as well, and he had grown up with the myths and legends. For someone like Harry who had been raised by ignorant Muggles, this must sound like the worst kind of a fairy tale.
Still, he had to wonder what the other professors were teaching these days. With all the Muggleborns in Hogwarts, there should be classes about tradition and lore and their history that stretched far beyond the times of Salazar Slytherin and his companions. "Certainly professor Binns has..."
"I don't give a damn what professor Binns has." Snapping the words out, Harry took a deep breath, trying to calm down. He could see from the spark in the dark gaze that Snape would definitely not stop himself from making a dry comment if he didn't get a hold of his anger.
There was a short silence, the only sound Harry's ragged breathing.
"I know all about the myths." It was said quietly. "Despite what you might think, I didn't sleep through the History of Magic. Old ways of following the cycle of the year, the symbolism; I understand that. But... Damn it, Snape! It doesn't make any sense!"
Snape winced at the broken laughter that followed Harry's words. He knew the feeling. "I know. But it's the absolute truth."
Not many things were. This was one of the exceptions.
Trying to collect his thoughts, Harry mused out loud, "So you're telling me that Voldemort killed my parents because of some old fairy tales about claiming the land and challenging the king stag?" His voice broke with the last word.
It still made his heart ache every time he conjured up the Patronus; the memory of the silvery white stag protecting him from darkness and things that were worse than death. That hadn't simply been a charm, it had been his one true connection to his father.
And now he was supposed to believe that it had been that Animagus form that had condemned his parents?
"There were other reasons as well, I think. The Dark Lord was trying to make an example so that none of those who had left school recently would join the Order. But essentially, yes. The fact that your father could transfigurate himself into a stag was what killed him."
Harry heard the truth in Snape's voice. It made him want to destroy something. He couldn't believe how quickly his emotions were changing. A moment earlier he'd been bubbling with laughter that was bordering on insanity, now he was seething with rage. "Pettigrew!" It came out as a growl.
Snape didn't need that to be explained. "Yes. He told the Dark Lord everything about his circle of friends." Even then, weeks before his own decision to leave the Death Eaters, he'd held nothing but contempt for the Gryffindor. Such treachery was despicable, but it was also incomprehensible. He'd watched those four for seven years, had hated their close knit group. All for nothing.
Rage already cooling, Harry was taking deep breaths. He still couldn't believe this was it. "Okay... Snape?" He hesitated for only a moment. Then he asked, "Do you know if he really believed it? I mean... Did Voldemort honestly believe in this Wild Magic thing or not?"
He didn't want to ask it like this; like he wasn't talking to the Snape whom he knew, but to someone who had been a Death Eater. Someone who had known Voldemort well enough to actually help the Order to bring him down. He wanted to apologize for this somehow, but didn't know how.
"I don't know if he really believed in that. Wild Magic isn't like Dark Magic. It's old, untamed, dangerous. More dangerous than anything." Snape shrugged. "I think he believed in the symbolism."
"That one day he'd be challenged by the king stag?" In some deranged way, it was starting to make sense.
It never ceased to amaze Snape to hear Harry Potter make sharp and accurate deductions. After all, he had never shown any sign of having brains in his Potions class. "Yes. Or by his son."
Harry didn't know what to say, too many thoughts were running through his head. There was that familiar tingle that would make him laugh uncontrollably for long minutes until the hysteria turned into tears. He didn't want to give into it. Not now.
Something was nagging at the edge of his memory; words spoken a while back. He concentrated on it, trying to remember what was so important. Shaking his head, he stared at Snape. "Malfoy said that Voldemort wants to kill me this year when I turn eighteen." The day after his birthday when the ancient tradition said that the year started to slowly wane.
He didn't want to believe in this, but everything seemed to point into the same direction.
"Yes. The fact that you were born when you did seemed to bring some kind of validation to the Dark Lord's beliefs." Hoping that Harry wouldn't use that as a reason to blame himself for everything again, Snape sat there and watched as a myriad of emotions played over Harry's face.
Fortunately, slight disbelief, horror and anger seemed to win over everything else. Those were the ones he would need later on.
Harry wanted to cling to the rumors he'd heard and blindly ignore the stupidity both Dumbledore and Snape had told him, just because he couldn't believe that anyone was insane enough to slaughter a family for such a simple reason. An old legend? A fairy tale! Like he was Cinderella and maybe the next time Malfoy lied, his nose would grow so long it poked someone's eye out.
He stared at Snape, seeing that he was once again telling him the truth. He wanted to hate him for that, but couldn't. All he had ever asked from him was honesty, and that was what he got now.
Did others know as well? He doubted it. No one had ever said anything about this to him or his friends, there had been no rumors, no whispers. He was certain Remus would have told him if he'd known about this, or he'd at least been unable to keep it a complete secret.
"Do you know that..." Shaking his head, Harry closed his mouth. He couldn't tell Snape how talking about getting ready for the change seemed to be one of the only happy memories Sirius had. Hearing how the idea -- Sirius' idea -- had led to James Potter's death would shatter the man. "Oh no!"
Snape quirked up an eyebrow. "Yes?"
"I need you to promise me you'll never talk about this with anyone. Especially Sirius. Please! I know you two hate each other, but he must never know. Never!"
It amazed Snape still that Harry could put such trust in him. He did hate Sirius Black. There was something in him that made him want to reach out and just strangle him; it was pure instinct.
When there was no instant reply, Harry sighed. "Please." He knew he would beg and plead if necessary.
Snape's dark gaze burned with curiosity. "Why?" He couldn't understand why everyone seemed to want to shelter Black from the realities of life. Surely he could handle talking about the past.
"Because the whole Animagus thing was his idea." The stories had always been important, both to Harry and to his godfather. Stories about mischief and friendship and loyalty; of three friends doing whatever it took to stay with the fourth Marauder during the suffering he went through every full moon. Sirius had talked about those times more often than he could really remember.
Snape still said nothing.
"It'll kill him. He's already... And if he hears that it was why Voldemort targeted my family, it'll kill him. I know you hate him and would like to see him squirm, but... Please." He knew how Snape hated begging, but he couldn't hold still. With a small movement, as if reaching out, he added, "Please don't tell him. Ever."
"He will never hear it from me." It wasn't because Snape wanted to support the mutt's already questionable mental health.
His protectiveness was definitely not universal, but with Harry it was absolute. He knew Harry needed Sirius Black, so he would try to learn to coexist with him. It might be the second hardest thing he'd ever done, but he would do his best.
There was a stunned look on Harry's face. He'd hoped Snape would agree, probably after hours of arguing and pleading. "Thank you."
"Don’t mention it." It sounded like Snape was really asking for Harry never to bring the whole matter up again.
Harry wondered if he should leave it at that, but there was still one thing he wanted to know. "Snape? Do you think that my father would have really..." What was the term Dumbledore had used? Challenged Voldemort for the lordship of the land? "Challenged Voldemort? I mean... He didn’t want to fight my father or me and now I’m here and..."
He didn’t really know how to say it so that it made sense. It certainly made no sense to him.
Snape's gaze was hard. "Are you familiar with the term 'self-fulfilling prophecy'?" Seeing the nod, he added, "I have often wondered if the Dark Lord should have studied the concept better before acting so irrationally."
"You mean that if he hadn't killed my parents, he might still be in power today?" The thought brought such conflicting emotions. Harry shivered.
"Maybe." Snape didn't sound convinced. He thought for a moment before adding, "Or maybe the Ministry would have raised against him. Maybe your father and his friends would have defeated him. Maybe one of his loyal Death Eaters would have stabbed him in the back with a poisoned knife. The thing is, we will never know. A time turner can not take us that far back."
That made Harry glare at Snape, wondering if the words were coincidental or if the man knew something.
Realizing that there was well concealed concern in Snape’s eyes instead of cold amusement and knowing, he relaxed against the backrest. He didn’t need the confining armrests to keep him from falling apart anymore and he kind of wished he’d sat next to Snape after all.
"Is there more you wish to talk about right now, or may we retire for the night?" Snape wondered if they’d already said too much, both of them.
It had been a long day. Harry suddenly remembered he’d been up since dawn and it was definitely close to midnight now. But even if he weren’t this tired, he’d still say the same. "I think I’m ready to go to bed. Yeah. You can use the bathroom first."
He smiled at the glare his words caused, but it was all right. In a few minutes, he would be able to snuggle up against Snape, and though the thoughts of ancient legends about kings and the Dark Lord would not fade away, there would be something more important in his life.
Part 8 Harry was floating. Wrapped in a soft and warm cocoon, he was nuzzling against something even warmer and for once, there were no thoughts, no needs. Just him and the heat.
Blinking slowly, he drifted awake. Not startling like he sometimes did after a nightmare, but lingering in the haze between the dreamworld and reality.
He couldn't really remember what he'd been dreaming about, if he'd indeed dreamt about anything really. There were no images, only the feeling of mellow happiness. Smiling, he leaned closer to the warmth he was holding, brushing his nose against bare skin.
Bare skin?
Harry opened his eyes, staring into the darkness in front of him. There was nothing to see, but there was certainly someone lying very close to him, someone he was almost glued onto. Snape. Yes, of course. He was in Snape's bed, arms wrapped around Snape, his face buried in his neck, nose barely inches away from his ear.
He was also hard, a moment away from grinding his erection against Snape's arse.
Breathing very carefully, he lay there for a moment. This was the first time something like this had happened since they came back. With all the stress and pain, he hadn't really even thought about sex.
It was almost frightening how overwhelming the need to simply kiss Snape's neck and mutter as if still half asleep before rolling on top of him was. He wondered if Snape would allow it and let it slide. The way his prick twitched at the thought made him almost groan. He'd got too used to having sex every time he felt like it.
He battled with the idea, but eventually his mind conquered his hormones. It couldn't happen like this.
Trying very hard not to make any unnecessary noise, he moved away from Snape, his whole being aching as he lost the warmth of his body.
Harry slipped out of the bed, praying he hadn't woken the man up.
As he walked to the living room with a fresh change of clothes under his arm, turning on the lights only when the door was firmly shut behind him, he almost wished he'd been brave enough to actually ask Snape what they were going to do with all the things between them. That conversation should happen when they were both calm, composed and definitely not half naked and aroused.
He was half certain that Snape would be willing to shag him -- or at least give him some sexual relief -- if he asked for it, but the mere thought made him grimace with disgust. He didn’t want to use Snape or to have his pity.
His body was definitely not agreeing with his mind. The erection straining against his boxers indicated that touches that came from a sense of duty or pity were better than no touches at all.
Sometimes Harry simply hated his life.
There was no real sense in being angry with his prick, it didn’t really change anything. The annoyance aimed at that part of his body never overrode the lust and need anyway.
He'd better take a long -- and preferably cold -- shower before Snape woke up.
Showering in the dungeons was such a familiar thing by now. Harry grinned as he remembered how weird it had felt to be here for the first time, how he'd been in shock to actually find out that Snape used things like shampoo. It felt like it had happened ages ago, and it stunned him to realize that it had been only six months since that first night he'd spent here.
This place had been so strange then, everything a wonder and a cause for amazement. Now he went to the small cupboard as if it belonged to him, grabbing a clean towel before shedding his T-shirt and shorts.
Harry didn't have to go looking for anything else. The potions he wanted to use were on the ledge. It was a simple, but smart arrangement, considering how many small bottles there were in the other cupboards. Harry didn't want to accidentally wash his hair with hair removing potion or spill something important.
Adjusting the water to lukewarm, he stepped under the spray.
Now was a good time to think of what he wanted to do today. Ignoring his annoyingly persistent erection, Harry grabbed the shampoo and then started to massage his scalp vigorously, as if rubbing his head would help his brain cells to activate better. He was definitely not thinking about rubbing any other body part.
Sirius would probably like to see his diploma, and he would like to see Sirius. After yesterday's revelation, he needed to spend time with his godfather, even though he couldn't tell him why. Maybe he would indeed go to St. Mungo's.
They needed to make certain plans about the move. Harry grimaced at the thought, even though the memory of Sirius nodding before he actually finished the question was a good one. After seven years of sharing a dormitory with three other people, having a whole house for himself felt a bit too much. It would be good to have his family there.
Rinsing his hair, he stood under the water with his eyes closed. His house. It had been a shocking thing to see, the huge rooms echoing with his footsteps. Nothing like the sleepy little cottage, even with the basic furniture giving some resemblance of life to it.
He reached out for the soap without even looking.
So maybe the house hadn't been awful, but he didn't want to move in there yet. He could have a few more days like this, all alone with Snape, spend most of his time curled up on the couch and just be.
Spreading the lather on his chest, Harry smiled. He didn’t know where he stood with Snape, but here he was, staying in the dungeons. Considering the way Snape still let him snuggle against him every night, Snape didn't exactly hate him. Maybe he could work with that even after he was forced to leave this place.
Staying here was somehow better than anything he knew. He liked the complete darkness, the slightly too hard bed. Snape's arms around him, the familiar scents everywhere.
He closed his eyes, the memory of Snape lying next to him bringing more images to his mind. For a moment he couldn't help grinning at that, then the grin disappeared as his body responded to his very vivid imagination.
Without really thinking about it, he rubbed his hand lower, first trying to convince himself that he was just washing, but who was he trying to fool anyway?
Somehow it felt almost forbidden to stand here in Snape's shower, touching himself. He'd much rather touch Snape.
But that wasn't exactly an option right now.
Discarding the stupid need to somehow cover this whole thing up even from himself, Harry braced against the tiles and closed his fingers over his erection. He was too old and had seen and done too much to be embarrassed by simple wanking.
It didn’t take long to rub himself into a fairly satisfying climax. All he had to do was to think about Snape and his hands and that damn dark gaze turning even darker whenever he came, and Harry was soon slumping against the tiles with a very foolish grin on his face.
After washing his body again and making sure he left no evidence of anything else in the shower stall, Harry went to grab the towel. Maybe he’d have a chance to get dressed and get going before Snape woke up.
He spent the minimal amount of time brushing his teeth and then ran his fingers through his wet hair. On mornings like this, he never bothered with a comb. His hair never stayed neat anyway, so why bother? Pulling on his shirt, he barely cast a glance at the mirror.
Since he was going out, he’d better get his robes as well. The sleeves were getting too short again -- or actually his arms were simply too long for them anymore -- but since he didn’t have any interest in going shopping, his school robes would have to do.
He left the towel hanging from the hook and then padded out of the bathroom, ready to face another day.
Harry froze as he saw Snape sitting on the couch. Just when had the man got up? He’d seemed to be fast asleep when he’d left the bed. There was a very familiar tray on the table in front of him and Harry realized that Snape must have been here for a while.
"Breakfast?" There was a flicker of dark amusement in Snape's gaze as he raised the tea pot.
It made Harry blush. He knew that Snape couldn't possibly know what he'd been doing in the shower, but somehow it felt as if he did. A week ago, he'd spent hours shagging Snape almost every day, and now he was feeling stupid about wanking in his shower? "Er... No thank you. I have things to do."
Still, he was glad Snape had thought he wouldn’t want to go to the Great Hall this morning.
Trying very hard not to look like he was running away, he put on his shoes, grabbed the robe hanging near the door and bolted into the hallway. Even though there were no sounds following him, he had the distinct feeling that Snape was laughing at him.
A part of him wanted him to turn around and walk right back to Snape. They had to talk about this sooner or later and now would be a perfect time for it. He hesitated for a moment but then continued on his way. He had lots of things to do today, and didn’t think he would be able to concentrate on anything after arguing with Snape.
Instead of heading to the Great Hall for breakfast, he followed the hallway only to the discreet entrance to the Slytherin rooms.
Harry stood outside the Slytherin common room for some time, trying to figure out if he was indeed out of his mind. He’d had this thought not long ago, and even though he was certain it was one of the most insane ones he’d ever had, he hadn’t been able to push it away.
With Sirius and Remus ready to move in with him, the huge house wouldn't feel that huge. They could live together happily, even though the place would still feel enormous.
There was still room there, for more than one person.
If things were different, he'd ask Ron and Hermione to stay with him as well. The thought was painful as always. He hadn't heard from Hermione since he returned to Hogwarts and he wondered if she was blaming him for all the deaths as well. Ron was staying with his family, and it was unlikely he'd want to live with him and face all the dangers again.
That was the thing he had to consider from now on, his friendship put people in mortal danger. It was somehow easier with Sirius and Snape. They were already hunted, one way or the other.
So was Draco Malfoy.
Sighing, Harry raised his hand and then thumped his palm against the wall, as if knocking. He still didn't really like Malfoy, mostly because of the things he'd done and said in the past, when they had both been too young to really think for themselves. He was willing not to bring up the stupidity from the cottage, but he was definitely not happy about the slightly superior attitude that clung to Malfoy like a cloak.
It was probably not even a conscious effort on Malfoy's behalf.
Still, he didn't hate him either. The thought of the Slytherin staying here alone with no real future made him sick.
That was the main reason for him being here now.
The wall shifted slowly, leaving the doorway open. Draco was standing there, wand pointing straight at Harry's chest. He looked scruffy, as if he hadn't really woken up yet, hair mussed, but his gaze was alert. "Potter. What do you want?"
"We need to talk." Harry ignored the annoyed tone. It was a bit early, so maybe it was the way Malfoy behaved in the morning. How silly that even after months of living in the same cottage with him, he didn't really know.
Lowering the wand, Draco looked over his shoulder, as if wondering if he should ask Potter in or if he should step into the corridor. Neither option sounded good.
"Maybe we could have some breakfast? In the Great Hall." Harry knew that the house elves would bring him and Malfoy breakfast even if the Slytherin didn’t usually go to eat in the company of the professors who were still staying here.
"All right." That sounded good. Draco shoved his wand under his robes and then stepped out of the Slytherin rooms. He didn't say anything to Harry, just started walking towards the more inhabited part of the castle.
Behind him, the door closed slowly.
They didn't talk during the short walk. Harry didn't want to rush with his offer. It was intriguing to go through the corridors with Malfoy; it was somehow revealing. Down in the dungeons, he didn't really care about his outer appearance, walking with his shoulders slumped, but as soon as they reached the outer hallway his demeanor changed, a familiar sneer appearing on his lips.
Climbing the stairs, they came across a few professors, who all nodded at Harry, greeting him warmly. Most of them cast curious glances at Draco, but otherwise, almost none of them acknowledged his presence.
Draco was rather glad for it. He didn't feel like socializing right now. Maybe after Potter had finished with him, he could go back to his room and finally get some sleep.
The scent of food coming from the Great Hall made him straighten up a little. He suddenly realized he hadn't eaten anything for hours, spending the night awake brooding about the joke his life had become. His stomach growled and he rolled his eyes at such weakness.
Harry smiled slightly, but chose not to make a comment.
After a brief look at both the Slytherin and the Gryffindor table, Harry led them to the Ravenclaw tables, gesturing at the end closest to the Head Table. He doubted that getting into a fight about where to sit would make a good start for this. This was probably as neutral ground as they would find here.
Unless they considered sitting on the floor.
Minerva McGonagall was sitting on her usual seat at the Head Table. She smiled at Harry and nodded at Malfoy as sternly as always. It made Harry feel a bit better. At least someone still knew how to act around them.
"Let's eat first." He sat down and a moment later Malfoy followed his example. There were already plates and cups ready on the table and when they were both seated, dishes full of food appeared in front of them. It was definitely different from watching a cranky old house elf carry a tray into the room.
With a start, Harry realized that he actually missed the sight of Eppy glaring and huffing at them.
Draco poured himself a cup of tea, trying not to show just exactly how hungry he was. "All right." Without other words, he grabbed a sandwich and started to eat.
Eating was a good way to relax. Harry remembered the days when he'd first gone to Snape. He'd felt like a real idiot in the dungeons, not sure if he could just sit there and talk. There had usually been a tray full of food and juice on the table, and eating had been a perfect way to mask his uncertainty.
Like back then, he noticed that he was feeling more comfortable when he had finished with eating, enjoying sitting here with a cup if steaming tea in his hand. Malfoy seemed more relaxed as well, looking at him with genuine curiosity in his eyes.
"So what did you want to talk about? Something important going on?" Draco wondered what this was about.
"Have you decided what to do with your life yet?" Harry asked instead of really replying to the question. He didn't believe he should start playing games with Malfoy, even if he tried to goad him into them. It was best to get straight to the point.
The phrasing made Draco raise an eyebrow. "Yes. I'll rather keep it for a while longer." He knew it might be wishful thinking, considering the way things were going right now. "Since I can not go out in the world and live on my own, I guess I must work with professor Snape and your Order of the Phoenix."
Harry nodded approvingly. He'd never expected to hear solemn words about keeping the world safe or fighting against Voldemort on some obscure principle. Knowing that Malfoy's motivations were of self preservation made it strangely easy to trust him. "I guess you're right."
He didn't have any illusions about this thing and neither did Malfoy. It was very close to the curt honesty Snape had always shown him.
"Neither of us can stay at Hogwarts forever. I doubt you'd even want to." Harry didn't say anything about what he might want to, since it was already obvious. He wanted to stay with Snape. "I have a house in Hogsmeade. There's enough room for you as well, if you can stand living with Gryffindors." Seeing the questioning look, he added, "My godfather and Remus Lupin are going to live there as well."
"Your godfather?" Draco had never heard of this. He'd thought Potter had no other relatives than the Muggles he lived with during the holidays.
Harry was a bit thrown at the question, only now realizing that Malfoy didn't probably know even half of what had been going on. He'd seen everything from the other side. Maybe it would indeed be interesting to talk to him about their world and the war, to see how the enemy interpreted things. "Sirius Black. He's my godfather."
It made Draco stare. He blinked slowly, suddenly remembering the small crowd that had gathered in Dumbledore's office after he'd laid his whole life in front of Snape months ago.
Professor Lupin had been there with another man. Sirius Black? He couldn't really believe that. Black was a lunatic, a dangerous escaped criminal, not a groomed man who seemed to be awfully worried about Potter's safety.
But that dark haired man had turned into a dog. Even in a drugged haze, Draco had seen that; a black dog sitting next to the others. He'd been too busy trying not to pass out as he'd sat in the carriage to really think about that then. It did make sense now. His father had told him about the way Black, Potter and Pettigrew had all been Animagi.
No one would believe that the clean and obedient looking animal was actually Sirius Black. He knew Voldemort's people were after him; after a half starved cur. Could this be the reason why they had never caught him?
Waiting patiently for Malfoy to stop gawking, Harry wondered what would happen if he actually accepted his offer. It was probable that Malfoy and Sirius would hate each other and he'd have to listen to more petty bickering.
He didn't really mind. At least it was something he was used to. He trusted they'd manage to survive the whole thing.
"You are asking me to live with you, professor Lupin and Sirius Black in your house in Hogsmeade?" Draco couldn't help asking that. He was completely stunned by the easy way Potter had made the offer. Not like he was doing a favor to Snape -- which was probably the core of the offer anyway -- but like he meant it.
Harry nodded. "Yes."
"Hmm." Raising his cup to his lips, sipping the already cooled tea, Draco thought about it. Staying in Hogsmeade would be better than being here, all alone in the rooms that brought back a multitude of happy memories of times gone by.
He didn't know what his function in the Order would be, if he was indeed accepted into it. Living with Harry Potter would be a step into the right direction.
There were things that he needed to think through, though, starting with the most important. "I don't know if I would be able to pay rent, Potter. I assume my funds have diminished since my last stay here." He hid all his pain under the stiff words.
No more Malfoy money for him. Leaving his family so abruptly had left him Knutless.
Even though Harry wanted to laugh at the pompous way he said that, he kept his expression straight. The talk about money -- or the lack of it -- was familiar after living for years with Ron. "I don't expect you to pay anything. But we'll share the chores. Just like at the cottage."
Draco nodded. He'd assumed that much. It was a relief that he didn't have to live on charity. "Can I think about it for a few days?" He didn't really need to think; there weren't any better options. He simply didn't want to sound too eager to agree to this.
"Of course." Pushing back the bench a little, Harry nodded and stood up. "I’ll be moving the day after tomorrow, so you might want to make up your mind before that. Let me know what you decide and we'll talk more." There were things he needed to discuss with Malfoy anyway, but not now. They both needed some time. Being able to sit here and actually agree on something was already a big step. He didn't want to rush things.
Besides, he had other things to do right now.
Draco sat there for some time after Potter left. He was tired, but didn’t want to go back to the dormitory yet. There was much for him to think about right now.
The offer had come as a complete surprise. On the rare occasions when he’d met with Snape, the professor had never once mentioned anything as outrageous as this. He had simply concentrated on the most essential exams that had allowed him to leave school, going through the whole thing only because Snape had pushed him.
How strange that his whole world had once again changed, and as usual, it had been a change to the worse. Feeling slightly annoyed by the whole mess with Ron Weasley had been nothing compared to the gnawing anxiety in his belly now that he’d heard what had happened at the Weasley hovel.
Potter had to know the same thing he did and he was still asking him to live with him? It was incredulous. Apparently Snape did indeed have a bigger influence on their hero than he’d ever imagined.
Not that it was really a surprise.
Draco finished with his tea and got up quietly. He didn’t want to attract any unnecessary attention right now, even though he knew that if he really did accept Potter’s offer, people would keep staring at him.
He sneered at that. People were already staring. They were waiting for him to make the slightest of mistakes and then whisper together how he was just like his father.
Head held high, he walked calmly out of the Great Hall, ignoring the way his former professors followed him with their gazes.
As soon as the door behind him slammed shut, there would be whispers. He didn’t care, concentrating on Potter’s words. He really had no option but to accept it. Without any funds or connections, he would be dependant on others. At least Potter had made it sound like something else than charity.
Hurrying back towards the dungeons, Draco was too lost in thought to see the slim figure step out of the shadows. He stumbled into someone, almost tripping them both.
Only his Seeker reflexes saved them both from falling on the floor.
"What? I... Oh, professor." He cursed silently as he realized he'd walked into professor McGonagall. What a perfect way to start his new life amongst Gryffindors.
Draco opened his mouth to apologize, his hands loosening their grip on her arms. The apology died on his lips as he saw the almost animal panic in McGonagall's eyes. He shrunk back a bit, unconsciously mimicking her flinch.
He didn't know what had brought out such a reaction. Even though the Transfigurations professor had sometimes shown them her feline form, she was never as skittish as a cat. Now it looked like she'd hiss and claw at him if she could.
It made him shiver. Even after all the suspicious and pondering looks the professors had thrown at him, he still wasn't used to this. Didn't want to spend the rest of his life being the object of such glances.
But this wasn't suspicion. This was horror and panic, laced with something that almost looked like rage.
His voice shook a little as he said, "I'm sorry, professor." He wasn't sure what he was apologizing for, the very unfamiliar words tasting stale in his mouth. "Didn't mean to startle you."
There was a brief moment of tense silence before McGonagall shook herself, as if shrugging off an unpleasant dream or a memory. "It's quite all right, Mr. Malfoy." Her tone was impeccable as always, but the words came out strained.
Too polite.
"I..." Draco didn't know what to say to her. "I'm sorry." There were the words again, bubbling out of his mouth as if he couldn't hold them silent.
He had never liked McGonagall, seeing her essentially as a Gryffindor and therefore a rival no matter how her family was as pureblooded as his was. He'd never wasted one thought on her before this spring. Still shaken by the sudden collision, he stood there, staring at her, trying very hard not to remember seeing Snape carry her bloodied body into the Great Hall months earlier.
The hard expression on McGonagall's face softened slightly as she looked at him. Nodding, she repeated, "It's all right." This time she sounded like she actually meant it. With another nod at him, she walked past him.
Draco stood there for a moment, dazed. He was never going to understand Gryffindors. Not even if he lived to be as old as Dumbledore.
Trying not to think about it, he continued on his way downstairs.
He needed to make a decision, and it would probably be the best if he had some advice from the Head of his House.
Part 9 "So, tell us more about the house."
Harry smiled at Sirius' honest curiosity. "I think you'll both love it." Remembering the small cottage where his godfather and Remus had spent the past few years, he added, "Even though it's kind of embarrassingly huge and pompous."
"We can live with that." There was a truly happy smile on Sirius' face. He was finally satisfied with the way Remus was healing and the thought of having Harry live somewhere nice sounded excellent. He'd never really seen the place at Privet Drive, but he'd heard enough from Ron Weasley to know that Harry deserved a huge house. He deserved the best their world had to offer.
The enthusiasm so evident in Sirius' voice made Harry's chest ache. This was his childhood dream, a real family living with him because they loved him, a home away from the Dursleys.
It was still a thought that would create the biggest Patronus ever, but it was now slightly tinted with regret. There was only one thing he might wish he had beyond this.
He shook his head, trying not to think about that. If their world ever wanted to rename him, he could be the Boy Who Refused to Think About Stuff. As with the other moniker, he would surely deserve it.
"There is furniture there already, but I guess we can change things around if we don’t like them where they are right now." Waving with his hands, Harry described the house that would be their home.
He was concentrating on all the good things about it; the space they would have, the nice yard. The privacy the house seemed to have even though it was a short walk away from the center of Hogsmeade.
Being able to stay there with Sirius and Remus.
"I’m sure it will be all right." Sirius’ eyes were gleaming with anticipation. After years in a small cell followed by rushing around the country, this sounded perfect. "Are you sure we won’t take up too much space?"
Smiling with only a hint of exasperation, Remus listened to the two make plans about their new living arrangements. He didn’t want to interrupt the planning, seeing how both Sirius and Harry were genuinely enthusiastic about the prospect of actually living together like a family.
Harry was a bit surprised to be truly happy about this. As long as he didn’t think about the fact that moving in with Sirius meant moving out of Snape’s rooms, everything was fine.
"So... it'll be just the three of us there? You and Remus and me?" Sirius didn't know how else to put that. He'd wondered if Harry had seen Ron lately, but didn't want to ask. He always hated making Harry sad.
Realizing he hadn't said anything to Sirius and Remus about the possibility of Malfoy moving in as well, Harry winced. "Not precisely." He decided it was best to just say it. "Actually, I told Draco Malfoy that he should move in with us."
That definitely caught Remus' attention. "You asked Draco Malfoy to live with us?" He was shocked, remembering the smirking and sneering blond boy.
He'd always seen how clearly Harry reminded him of both James and Lily, and unfortunately the genes of the previous generations seemed to be strong with the Malfoys as well. Lucius Malfoy had always been a bastard in school, and Remus had seen his son follow exactly in his footsteps.
"Yeah." How funny that some of the reasoning Harry could think for his decision was exactly the same as he'd used when talking to Ron about seeing Snape. "I don't think he means us any harm and he has no other place to go."
He couldn't really say that he'd got to know Malfoy, but he didn't think he was completely rotten and evil either.
Sirius shrugged. "It's your house." He was a bit disappointed with Ron Weasley. After all, Harry and Hermione had followed their friend to the Shrieking Shack without hesitations, fighting against him when they'd thought he was going to hurt Ron.
"Our house," Harry said firmly. Then he smiled. "I promise you won't like Malfoy much, but he's not completely bad." His smile grew wistful.
Remus leaned back against the pillows, wondering what brought such a strange expression to Harry's face. Probably the thing they'd talked about a few days ago.
Sensing the shift in the mood, Sirius looked at Harry and asked, "So when are we going to move in?" He still didn't like the idea of Harry staying at Hogwarts all alone, with no one to look after him.
"After the meeting." Harry saw the confusion in Sirius' eyes and realized that because of Remus' condition, they probably wouldn't be able to attend. "We're having an Order meeting the day after tomorrow. Dumbledore said it will be a good time for me to move to Hogsmeade."
"What a coincidence! I'm to be released the same day," Remus said. At least Harry wouldn't have to stay in his new house with only Draco Malfoy as his companion.
Harry hadn't known that, but it fit his plans perfectly. Maybe things would be at least a little easier with Sirius and Remus there with him.
"I could come to and stay with you right now if you want to move in before the meeting." It wasn't an easy offer for Sirius to make, but he knew he could handle leaving Remus' bedside now. There had been no sign of the silver poisoning, and the only reason the doctors were still keeping him here was to make absolutely sure there would be no complications.
It had to be a good sign that he was to be released in two days.
"That would be great, but you really don't have to." Harry's smile was a bit forced. "You should stay here with Remus. I'll be okay." He was not going to leave the dungeons a minute earlier than he absolutely had to.
He knew there were plans for him, he understood the need for those. Staying in Hogwarts would be impossible, especially when summer ended and students returned, but that was all in the future. There might be days he didn't see Snape, so he needed to stay with him now that he still could.
"Nonsense! I'll come with you to Hogwarts tonight, and we can get your things ready together." Sirius could sense Harry's reluctance, and he wondered just when would he finally understand that he was not a burden. That he and Remus both loved him very much and didn't think of him as a charity case. "Remus will be fine here until he can join us the day after tomorrow." They could finally be a family.
"I really don’t want to be a bother..." This couldn’t be happening.
Sirius grabbed Harry’s arm. "Don’t be silly." He had been selfish enough staying here with Remus for all this time, now it was time to be with his godson. "I hate thinking about you all alone in the dormitory."
There was determination in his voice. He needed to do this now, show his support before the big meeting and all the fuss Harry would have to go through. There was nothing that could keep him away from Harry’s side tonight.
Harry cast a panicky look at Remus. This was too soon.
Squirming to get into a better position, Remus hid his apprehension and nodded slightly. He definitely didn't want to see this and would prefer this to wait until he was stronger to deal with the storm. Still, he was glad he knew what would happen next. Unprepared, this would be a total disaster.
It still could be, he couldn't tell. Usually, he could at least guess the outcome of various conversations with people, but there were just too many factors here.
At least they were still at St. Mungo's. If Sirius threw a fit, help would get here in seconds.
Harry sighed. "Sirius..." He didn't know how to say this, but he did know he couldn't let his godfather find out on his own. Remembering the betrayal and panic in Ron's gaze, he took a deep breath. "I’m not alone. I’m staying with someone."
He prayed that would be enough and Sirius would settle for grinning at him. That could happen, he was certain of it.
"Really?" There was that familiar grin on Sirius’ face. He chuckled at the obvious embarrassment on Harry's face. "So you do have a girlfriend after all. Tell me, how did you get McGonagall to give you her permission to bring a girl to stay with you in the tower?"
Knowing that there was no way out of this, Harry said, "There’s no... I'm not staying in the Gryffindor tower. I'm staying in the dungeons." He could see his words meant nothing to Sirius. "The Slytherin dungeons. With Snape."
Cringing, he waited for the unavoidable explosion.
"You..." Sirius was completely confused. "You're staying with Snape? Damn it! Dumbledore should know better than to force you to stay with that git right now." The whole stay at the secret hideaway had been bad enough. He was certain that being forced to stay with Snape now was a nightmare.
Then he blinked. Harry had said he was all right and didn't need him to leave St. Mungo's so that they could be together because he was staying with someone.
The hair at the back of his neck was prickling, a sense memory of hackles rising. He barely suppressed the curling of his lip, but the soft growl still came out. "You. Are staying with Snape."
Harry was sure his heart was about to explode. Knowing that his voice would just tremble and make the whole thing worse -- if that was even possible -- he nodded. Yes, he was staying with Snape. And yes to all the unvoiced questions.
"Did he do something to you?" Still growling, Sirius stared at Harry, noticing the faint blush creeping on his face. It made his mind go utterly blank. Jumping to his feet he yelled, "I will kill that bastard!"
He couldn't think of anything. Not rationally anyway. There was a familiar soothing voice telling him that everything was going to be all right, but it didn't register. Harry was staying with Snape, who was doing something to him. He would not think about that, even though his mind was instantly filled with disgusting images, but he did think about the reason behind whatever he was doing.
Revenge.
"That fucking son of a bitch! I will rip his black heart out, I'll..." He bit out the words, launching into a mixture of curses and threats, not repeating himself once.
This was payback. James was dead, but Harry lived, and Snape was taking his revenge out on an innocent boy. Ruining his life because of a stupid prank, probably trying to get to him and Remus through Harry as well, needing to destroy them all.
For a short while, he had deluded himself, thinking that just maybe a man who would be willing to risk his life for the Head of Gryffindor would actually be worth something. At least worth not hating. They were both of the Order, and the secret meetings and Snape's obvious -- now so clearly false -- dedication to their fight had almost started to mellow him.
It made him feel such rage; mostly towards Snape but towards himself as well. The words coming out of him were a blur to even him, incoherent threats and even hexes that thankfully didn't work, since his wand was still hidden under his robes.
He didn't care about words or magic. All he could think of was sinking his teeth into Snape's neck and biting until his jaws clenched and then shaking. There was a death he wouldn't mourn or regret.
He'd probably just regret not being able to kill him more than once.
Remus kept talking, not paying much attention to what he was saying, the tone and the voice more important. He sat up, ignoring the pain flashing through his side. There had been bad moments, but he'd never seen Sirius like this.
He'd known he wouldn't take it well, there had never been doubt about it, but he'd never thought it would be like this. Flip? Sirius wasn't flipping, he was way beyond that.
Still totally lost in his rage, Sirius banged his fist on the wall, ignoring the piercing pain. His words were unintelligible now, a low growl full of bloodlust.
Harry was staring at the raging man.
He couldn’t say anything, he simply watched as Sirius let go of all control he had on his emotions. Whenever he’d thought about telling his godfather about Snape, he’d known that it would be difficult, but this was so much worse than that.
Trembling, he got to his feet. He wasn't afraid that Sirius would hurt him, but he was afraid. Completely terrified.
There were calming words coming from Remus and he didn’t know to whom they were aimed at. Probably at Sirius, even though he was panicking as well.
It shouldn’t happen like this! He was supposed to think of something intelligent and convincing to say to Sirius and then after a few angry words they would have sat down and discussed the whole thing. He’d never been stupid enough to imagine that Sirius would accept him being with Snape, but this was beyond his worst nightmares.
Harry felt his throat squeeze shut. His eyes burned with tears and it was hard to breathe. This was so familiar to him, the feeling of total loss. For years, Sirius had been the absolutely best thing in his life. It didn't surprise him that his love was now taken away from him. "Sirius please..."
That sob did what Remus' calm words and pain hadn't. Sirius stopped yelling and spun around to look at Harry.
Seeing the animal panic in the green eyes, Sirius swallowed. He'd rarely seen Harry like this; utterly devastated, like he'd just lost something precious. The rage disappeared completely, replaced by horror. "No!" He took a few steps towards Harry and then wrapped his arms around him, holding tight. "No, no, no! Don't ever think I'd leave you because of this. I'm never leaving you. For anything."
He wasn't exaggerating; there was nothing Harry could do that would drive him away.
Harry had thought nothing could really make him cry again, but apparently relief could. He sniffed, wondering how he could laugh and cry at the same time without the madness clinging to him.
Grasping Sirius' robes tight, he muttered, "He's not forcing me or using me." He could feel the man stiffening immediately, the growl shaking Sirius' whole body. "Please, listen! I'm not under any charm or potion. We can get a mediwitch to examine me if you don't trust me."
"I trust you." It was out before Sirius could even think about words.
"Then trust me when I tell you that I’m staying with Snape because I want to. I like him." Every word made Harry feel like he was driving a knife deeper into Sirius’ chest. He wanted to apologize, but didn’t know how he could apologize for being honest.
Doing his very best not to let out a howl again, Sirius let go of Harry. He took a deep breath, but couldn’t say anything after all. Harry was staying with Snape because he liked him? He didn’t want to know more, didn’t even want to know this much, for his mind was already racing with all the things that were left unsaid.
Teasing him about a girlfriend had made Harry fluster earlier. Now he knew why. The mere thought of someone like Snape touching Harry made him grimace with disgust.
Harry saw the expression and it was like a blow. It was worse than any harsh words, making him feel small and unloved and locked into the small cupboard under the stairs where no one ever held him.
"Please don't hate me."
Sirius swallowed. There was so much pain in the pleading gaze, he couldn't handle seeing it. Wrapping his arms back around Harry, he hugged him tight and muttered, "I could never hate you."
Nothing short of Harry killing half the wizarding world would make him hate his godson. Saying that he actually liked Snape of all people felt like a cruciatus, and Sirius was quite sure he was out of his mind, but it did not make him hate Harry.
"Thank you." Muttering it quietly, Harry lay his head on Sirius' shoulder. He didn't want to even think about losing this, ever. Gaining something by losing Sirius' love was completely unacceptable, even though having such love under conditions was equally impossible.
He was glad Sirius was still holding him, still cared about him like this.
Remus' voice came quietly from the bed. "Sirius, you're bleeding." The calmly said words broke the silence, forcing everyone to concentrate on something less destructive than the tension in the room.
"Bloody hell!" Staring at his bleeding hand, Sirius tried to remember how he'd hurt it. Nothing came to mind. He looked around and winced when he saw the crack in the wall and the deep red smears on the yellow paint. Oh. He'd hit the wall? He was grateful he hadn't hit anyone living.
Lost in thought, he allowed Harry fuss over his wound. The crack in the wall was still making his stomach churn, and he turned to Remus to cast an apologizing glance at him.
The calm acceptance in the amber eyes somehow made him breathe easier.
Harry held his godfather's hand gently in his, smiling. "I guess I'm not the only one who knows how to throw a temper tantrum." Even though he had just bruised his knuckles and not broken them. He remembered the occasion when he’d slammed his fist against the tree when he’d had an argument with Snape and tried not to concentrate on the memory. It was definitely inappropriate right now.
Glaring at Harry, Sirius raised his hand to his mouth and licked the blood away from his fingers. It was a reflex by now. "Ow, damn it!" he whined. "Can you tell Loreena to call for someone to take a look at my hand?"
"Sure." Glad to find out her name without having to ask, Harry went to the familiar woman standing guard in the corridor. She would undoubtedly contact another Order member to tend to Sirius' wounds. The rest of the hospital staff would have to get used to seeing Snuffles hobble around with his paw in a bandage.
It was actually good to have a mediwizard in the room. The middle aged man was a member of the Order, and he didn't ask any questions. He simply glared at Sirius and huffed.
There was a blessed silence in the room for as long as the mediwizard treated Sirius' hand. Harry needed that time to calm his mind. Now that Sirius wasn't throwing him out of his life, he could relax a little.
Still, the first thing that came out of his mouth as the mediwizad finally closed the door behind him was, "Are you still moving in with me?"
Sirius looked at him as if he'd completely lost his mind. "Of course we are!" Nothing would keep him away from Harry.
Seeing the happy smile on Harry, he clamped his mouth shut and refused to say anything about why Harry might even think that he wouldn't want to move in with him. He didn't want to deal with the rage that would accompany such thoughts.
"We will move in when they release me." Fidgeting slightly at the tension that was still thick in the room, Remus gestured at Sirius. "Isn't that right?"
Mouth open, Sirius stared at Remus. Why on earth was he so calm about this whole thing? He didn't know, but he could see that Remus was definitely dealing with this more easily than he was. Glad he could rely on him now, he nodded. They would move in when the mediwizards said Remus was allowed to leave the hospital. And by Merlin's balls, he didn't want to know what Harry did before that.
Harry excused himself after a few minutes of uncomfortable silence and a few more hugs. He had absolutely no idea what to say to the two men who were the core of his family, and could tell by the look in Sirius' eyes that he wasn't the only one.
As soon as Harry was out of the room, Sirius let the smile he'd forced to his lips slip away and growled, "I am going to kill that bastard if he ever hurts Harry." He might kill him anyway, as soon as it was clear that Snape's death wouldn't make Harry suffer.
Remus simply patted the mattress as an invitation, refusing to comment on his words.
Flooing back to Hogwarts was a relief, especially when Harry found the Entrance Hall deserted. He didn't have to stifle the nearly hysterical laughter that escaped him.
He couldn't believe how insane everything was right now. He was living with Snape, sharing his bed and all, but they weren't anything he could put a name to; not lovers, probably not friends. And yet he had just jeopardized his whole dream of having a real family by telling Sirius about it.
There had to be something wrong with him, but he refused to let himself believe that his living with Snape now was because of the man's insane sense of duty. It didn't sound right. There had to be some hope left.
Straightening his robes, he set out his way down to the dungeons.
He cast a thoughtful look at the doorway to the Slytherin rooms as he passed them by. It still amazed him that he felt nothing towards the one Slytherin living there. No shivers came when he passed the corridor leading to the Potions classroom either.
A small smile appeared on his lips as he raised his hand, palm caressing the small snake on Snape's door for a brief moment before the door opened without a sound. He slipped into the room.
Closing the door behind him, Harry rested his back against the solid wood for a while, concentrating on the slight tingle that went up and down his spine. He didn't know if it was just a figment of his imagination, or some residual magical energy seeping from the heavy wards.
He didn't really care.
It had been an impossibly long day already, and even though he'd done nothing but had breakfast with Malfoy and then spent time at St. Mungo's, he was completely exhausted. It was good to be home.
Such a dangerous thought, thinking of these rooms like that.
But it was all so cozy, so familiar to him now. The smells coming from the ever-present cauldron, the soft sounds of Snape moving around the room. He didn't even have to think about those things anymore, they were a constant; like the small greeting Snape offered from where he was working on something potions related as usual.
Sighing, Harry toed his shoes off and then shuffled to the couch.
Snape waited until Harry was seated before looking at him, his face unreadable. "I heard you offered Draco Malfoy a place to stay." There was a hint of amazement in his voice.
"Yeah." Harry wasn’t surprised by Snape knowing it already. "I thought that since he can't really stay here any more than I can, he should stay somewhere safe." He didn’t think there was such a place that would ever be completely safe for either of them, but this was the best he could think of right now.
"Thank you."
The simple words made Harry gawk for a moment.
Had he heard it correctly? Of course he knew that Snape valued some courtesies, but this wasn't a simple phrase used when someone offered him a cup of tea. "You're welcome," he muttered, smiling goofily.
Snape refused to comment on his completely ludicrous expression. It was best to finish with the labeling so they could order some food. He was certain that Harry had not eaten anything at St. Mungo's and no, the chocolate didn't count.
Still thinking about the reluctant gratitude -- that had been completely different from Snape's honest words a moment ago -- he'd seen in Malfoy, Harry wondered what it would be like to live with him now. There would be no one to glare the Slytherin into silence.
This was probably one of the most insane ideas he'd ever had, but for some strange reason he didn't have a bad feeling about the whole thing. He knew Malfoy could behave well if he chose to, and a roof over his head was probably the best motivation he could have. Seven years of hating the git didn't all disappear with this new tentative truce, but he was willing to believe that he was not making a mistake inviting Malfoy in.
Life would be hard to Draco Malfoy. The people in Hogsmeade weren't going to forget who he was any time soon, they would look at him and see his father and the man he chose to call Master.
He'd be busy enough trying to deal with that. There would be no chance for real scheming.
Harry pushed away thoughts about Malfoys, knowing there was a more pressing matter he needed to discuss with Snape. He was tempted to leave the whole thing be, but knew that Snape would find out sooner or later. Actually, he was surprised there was no evidence of his raging godfather calling Snape through the floo and threatening him with violence.
It was quite likely only a matter of time.
He was certain this wasn't going to go as smoothly as he might wish. "I need to tell you something." That was always a good start. "Sirius..." He saw the slight moue and sighed. "Something kind of happened when I was at St. Mungo's. Sirius said he wanted to come to stay with me tonight and I had to tell him that I'm staying with you."
Snape spun around, the sound of a glass jar breaking loud in the sudden silence. He could only stare for a moment.
Then he asked with strangled voice, "What did you just say?" He was completely horrified.
"I told Sirius I'm staying here." Harry wondered if that would be enough. It already looked like Snape was either about to have an apoplexy or getting ready to hex him.
Grabbing his wand, Snape entertained the thought of turning Harry into something small and slimy before muttering a simple charm to clean the shards off the floor. He watched the jar rematerialize on the table. Breathed in and out slowly.
Harry waited for him to say something. Usually when Snape was mad at him -- or anyone -- he let the whole world hear about it. Now there was nothing but silence and that glare that turned his gaze blank.
It was worse than the sneers or the rage that so often slipped his attempted control; cold and frightening.
"I see." In control now, Snape turned to push the glass jar into the middle of the table. He really wanted to throw it at the wall, but that kind of emotional outburst would be unacceptable now. He could always do that later, when he was alone.
He didn't want Harry to see how upset he was.
Keeping his gaze on the jar, he said calmly, "Maybe it would be best if you moved into the Gryffindor tower tonight, Potter. I'm sure your godfather would appreciate that." At least the last bit came out with loathing.
"No." Harry didn't even think before the word slipped out. "I'm not going to leave because of Sirius." Or anyone else. He had two more nights here, and he was not leaving!
"Please stop being such an idiot!" Knowing he was quite probably asking for too much, Snape cast a disgusted look over his shoulder. "You know as well as I do that sooner or later Black will come to see you and if he ever finds out about..."
He couldn't finish the sentence. What could he say? That they were sleeping together? That they had spent a few weeks having a sexual relationship? That Harry was being a brainless imbecile in the good old Gryffindor fashion, thinking either with his prick or his emotions? All those things would send the mutt into a homicidal rage.
Harry didn't want to stutter out excuses, so he simply said, "He already knows." He remembered the scene following his words earlier and shuddered. "He guessed most of it and I had to tell him the truth."
"What?" No trace of the controlled anger. Snape spun around, the jar smashing against the wall. He could only stare at Harry.
The boy had lost his mind!
"And what exactly is the truth, Potter?" The name came out as an epithet. What on earth had he told his godfather? And how long did they have until Black rushed into his dungeons frothing at the mouth?
"That we are staying here together. I told him that, and he drew conclusions. Most of them right. I had to tell him the rest; that I like being here with you and that we shagged." Harry lifted his chin slightly, letting out the words he'd been holding inside for some time now. "And that I want to keep seeing you."
For the first time in ages, Snape wished he was still in a position to reduce House points for Harry's stupidity. It would take Gryffindor years to get back to where they were these days. "You can't be serious." From the stubborn gleam in the green eyes he could tell that he was indeed.
Harry had known what would happen once they started this conversation, and knew exactly what to say; his honesty wouldn't allow him to back out now. He hadn't lied to Sirius, and he wasn't going to lie to Snape either.
"I am. Totally serious. I never wanted a quick shag with you, Snape. We're not at the cottage anymore, but I don't see any reason we can't do things together."
There was that word again. Snape shook his head instantly, needing to stop this insanity before it got too far. "Then you're blind."
Harry asked quietly, "Why?"
"Why?" It was incomprehensible that Snape would have to spell it out loud. Would probably have to explain it at least twice before it was understood, using simple words and short sentences. "You want to know why?"
Even though Harry didn't especially want to have this conversation, he nodded anyway.
"The savior of the wizarding world and young Gryffindor hero can not be involved with a former Death Eater." Noticing the flinch, Snape added, "I'm only stating a fact. You know that's how people see you."
The fact that he was automatically trying not to cause the idiot any unnecessary pain barely registered. When it did, it caused yet another surge of anger in Snape. Such foolishness!
"I know. But it's not what I am, and it's definitely not all you are." Labeling people was what kids did when they needed clear good and evil. Adults should know better.
That didn't change anything. "Maybe. No one will ever believe that, though."
"It doesn't matter. It won't change anything, you know?"
"Even you aren't that stupid." Exasperation clear in his voice, Snape glared at Harry.
A small smile appeared on Harry's lips. "I never thought I'd hear that from you." Deciding not to laugh at the whole thing, no matter how tempting it was, he added, "And of course I know what this means. There will always be people who'll think that whomever I choose to be with is somehow beneath me."
Snape knew that was probably true, if one could draw conclusions from the headlines and columns in the Daily Prophet. "That doesn't mean you should go asking for trouble."
"I'm not asking for trouble. I'm asking you to stop hiding behind excuses."
"Excuses?" The look on Snape's face had sent students -- and a few colleagues -- running while gibbering in fear.
Harry didn't even flinch. "Me being too young or too student or too innocent. Your age and your past and every nosy know-it-all in the wizarding world who would like nothing better than to see me miserable and alone."
"Those aren't excuses. Those are facts." Snape had to make Harry understand that dreaming about any kind of a close relationship with him was delusional. "You're too young to..."
"I'm old enough to fight Voldemort and die for the Order. So why the hell am I not old enough to be with you?" Surprisingly, Harry didn't even feel anger anymore. He was just tired of fighting. "I know how old I am. Do you have any idea of how old I sometimes feel?"
Snape didn't say anything. He'd once thought Harry felt like he was seventeen, going on forty. Seeing the weary look in his eyes reminded him of the thought.
"If you..." Harry sighed. "If you really don't want me here, say so. I can deal with that." It wasn't exactly true, but he was tired of hiding behind all the unsaid things. Better to lie a little than to swallow the words again.
There was a pointed silence. Then, "It's not about what I want."
"Damn right it's about what you want!" Why couldn't Snape see that? It sometimes felt like they weren't even speaking the same language. "This isn't about you sacrificing your peace and quiet to help me stay sane! This is about me really wanting to stay here with you! And I want to know what you want."
He was shaking now. This was the one thing he didn't want to do. His words would force Snape to drive him away, he was sure of it.
Snape stared at him, a slight sneer forming on his face. "And why do you want to stay here, Potter? So that you can sleep with me? Watch me brew potions? Spread your dirty clothes all over my furniture?" The sneer turned evil. "So you can masturbate in my shower?"
The response to his words was exactly what he'd expected. Watching the blush rise on Harry's face, Snape had to wonder how it could be this easy. He hadn't even had to say anything truly evil, about the teenage drama and Harry's tendency to blame himself for everything that went wrong in their world.
He ignored the fact that he would never have used that as a weapon. He didn't want to rip Harry into pieces, he simply wanted him to use his brains for once and see that whatever foolishness he was planning would never work.
Harry had never forgotten just exactly how cutting Snape's words could be, but it had been so damn long since he'd said anything like this to him. It was biting and cruel and it was rather pathetic how he still couldn't hate the bastard.
Taking a deep breath, he said, "If that's all I can have, then I'll take it." He saw the way the sneer faltered. It made him feel a lot better. "I like you. I want to be with you. Now, what do you want?"
It was the question Snape had been avoiding for some time. He had no idea what he wanted. He knew he wanted to have his peace and quiet back and that he should be disgusted by the invasion of his privacy. There should be no doubt about it.
Yet, he didn't exactly need to be alone right now.
The indecision was more irritating than anything, and his first thought was to send the stupid brat out of his rooms forever. He curbed his usual angry reaction without any real hardship. As much as he'd like to, he couldn't really think of Harry as a brainless child anymore.
Harry waited patiently for a while. He could see that Snape wasn't shrugging the question off but was considering it. When the silence stretched, he couldn't help adding quietly, "Do you really want me to go away?"
A very simple question. Something he didn't want to ask, but had to. His life was a big mess already and he felt like this would be too much to face. If Snape said yes, it wouldn't exactly break his mind, but he had a sinking feeling that it might break something else.
Snape's gaze hid every real thought and emotion, burning black as he stared down at Harry. Finally he nodded curtly. "No."
Frozen at the gesture, Harry had to blink a few times as his mind tried to process the two conflicting messages. "No?" He saw another nod. "You mean you don't want me to go away?" This time the nod was accompanied by an annoyed glare.
"Then I'm not leaving!" Harry knew he was probably asking for trouble, but he wasn't going to back away from this.
Snape wanted to tell him he was an idiot, but that would be wasting his breath, since he'd been telling Harry that for seven years now, and he was still acting like one. This was one of the things that would likely never change. "Even if there will be no sex or things?" He couldn't promise Harry anything, couldn't make this any easier for him.
"Yes." There was not a moment of hesitation. Harry nodded so hard his neck hurt. "Even if there's nothing more than this." It was not exactly a lie. Not completely anyway.
Deciding it would be pointless to challenge that, Snape flicked his wand at the shards on the floor, once again making the broken jar rematerialize on the table. "Very well, then. If you intend to stay, you can contact the house elves for tea and some sandwiches."
He chose not to say anything about the bright smile Harry flashed at him before rushing to order some food.
Harry snuggled on the armchair to drink his tea, not even thinking about crowding Snape on the couch.
This had been the most exhausting day for a long time, and he hadn't even done anything. It was incredible, really; the truth he'd told could have destroyed everything and now he had more than he'd ever dreamed of. Sirius knew, and didn't hate him. Snape didn't want him to leave, and considering where they'd stood at the beginning, that was a miracle.
He was definitely not going to do anything to disturb things now.
After finishing with his tea, he went to grab his Firebolt and his broom servicing kit. Tending to his broom was a familiar act that required no thoughts, and he ran his fingers through the twigs automatically, wrinkling his nose a bit when dust rained down on him.
He should have done this sooner, but there had never seemed to be enough time for something like this. Smiling a little, he started to polish the handle, wondering if he'd have time to fly any time soon.
There had been a time when he'd spent his evenings in the Common Room tending to his broom and watching his friends study -- or in Ron's case, evade studying. In the earlier years, there had been Oliver telling them all stories about Quidditch, and later on there had been heated discussions about strategy.
Harry had loved that, just as he loved sitting here and watching as Snape once again went to work on something. He'd never wondered how Oliver had the energy to focus so completely on Quidditch; it was his passion as well, and their captain's ramblings had always made sense to him. He didn't really understand how someone could pour all that passion into brewing potions, but it was clear to him that to Snape it made sense.
He concentrated on the homey sound of something bubbling in the cauldron, smiling at the familiar scents. This was perfect; to quietly tend to his broom with Snape working near by.
Ridiculous really, but he honestly didn't want more from life than this.
He knew that this wouldn't last forever, but at least he still had these few days to spend with Snape. He'd try to hold onto these small moments as tight as he could.
His hands stilling on the broom, he kept staring at Snape. Watching him move between the work table and the cauldron had always been somewhat interesting, but now he could feel other feelings stir inside.
It had been like this at the cottage. He'd never interrupted Snape's brewing, knowing that it was important to him. There had been long hours he'd spent in the small room watching the man chop the ingredients or bottle potions and the knowledge that as soon as he was finished he would turn to him had been enough to get Harry through the waiting.
Swallowing, Harry tried to stop that thought. He'd been honest when he'd said this would be enough, but for some reason his body wasn't exactly agreeing with him.
He wanted Snape. It had been so much easier when his body had felt numb with shock and had only craved to feel Snape next to him when he slept. Now that numbness had faded, and he couldn't stop remembering how it had been to feel Snape's hands all over his body.
Bad thought! Bad! Harry had the mental image of grabbing his broom and slamming it against his head, screaming 'Bad Harry!' like he was a disobediant house elf. It would probably make no difference, but at least the pain would make him stop thinking about Snape's touch.
Or maybe not. Sometimes his stupid mind just had to focus on the one thing he wasn't supposed to think about, and it just wouldn't stop. It didn't matter that he knew he couldn't go to Snape and wrap his arms around him; he wanted it anyway. He wanted to attack those damn buttons with his fingers and strip Snape naked, drag him into the bedroom and then lose himself in the haze of pleasure.
It didn't help that Snape was leaning over the table, his gaze on a book. The posture just made Harry's mouth dry.
He had to be totally insane to agree to this torment! How many times had he felt like this? And how often had he simply dropped anything he'd been doing and gone to Snape, knowing that he was never turned away from his door?
There had never been any promises, but still the moments they'd shared had meant something to Harry. It hadn't been just sex, of that he was certain and he wanted it back. He hadn't lied to Snape, he'd settle to what he had if it was all that was offered, but he couldn't help wanting more.
He wanted everything from Snape.
Snape raised his gaze from the book, and met Harry's stare. It was clear to him that Harry hadn't intended for him to actually see that he was staring, but even though Harry's embarrassment was rather obvious, he didn't look away immediately. After a moment, he smiled ruefully and then turned his gaze to the broom.
Seeing the look of undisguised longing was a slight shock, even though it didn't exactly surprise Snape. He couldn't understand what made Harry feel like that; as if he wasn't simply yearning to once again share his bed -- and this time in the more sexual meaning of that phrase -- but wanted something more.
Things. The word was insufficient to describe the elusive concept, but Snape couldn't think of anything better. Harry undoubtedly wanted those small gestures.
He didn't blame him for it. People behaved the way they were taught to, and by now it was painfully obvious that the real difference between these youngsters he knew was more than simply House pride. Harry truly believed there would be something he could give him, things that would make him happy. It was mind boggling.
Sexual encounters he could deal with. As a matter of fact, if the idiot continued to simply sit there aroused and polishing his broom as if he was thinking about something else, he might even suggest it. He did not find the physical act of sex unpleasant with Harry, and knowing he was going to insist on spending time with him no matter what, another sexual encounter wouldn't change anything.
Harry was already delusional -- and stubborn -- enough to not let go of him.
Of course any suggestions towards sex could be taken completely out of context. Snape had no illusions about Harry's ability to deal with this rationally. Any touches could be seen as an encouragement.
Then again Snape was certain anything he did could be misinterpreted. There was probably some Gryffindor tradition that made simple courtesies like pouring someone tea or not hexing them for making a mess seem like a declaration of undying devotion.
At least sex would be easier than anything else the idiot might want.
Before Snape could make up his mind about that, Harry got to his feet and then walked to the bathroom with a half strangled, "I'll take a quick shower before..."
The door slamming closed cut his sentence.
Snape had to smirk at that. Of course he could also sit here and try not to listen to the loud moans that were only partially drowned behind the sound of water being ran.
He put the book down and went to the bedroom to prepare for bed. At least now he couldn't hear the shower. Imagining Harry stand there touching himself was slightly disturbing. Snape blamed the few weeks of continual sexual contact on the faint arousal this situation caused, slightly dismayed by the way his body was betraying him.
Ignoring the first stirrings of his erection, he changed into his nightrobes and turned the duvet down. He was not a hormonal teenager, he could maintain control no matter what delusions his libido had.
When Harry finally came out of the shower, his hair wet and cheeks reddened by more than just the hot water, Snape cast a knowing glance at him, but didn't say anything. He didn't have to. Harry seemed to understand all the things he might have said anyway.
Muttering, "Oh shut up," quiet enough for Snape to pretend he didn't hear that, Harry crawled under the blankets. Then he added a bit louder, "Good night, Snape."
Snape should have known the embarrassment would turn into impudence. He wasn't certain if it was typical Gryffindor stupidity or bravery, but he couldn't really resent it. Not, when above everything else it might be, it was honest.
"Good night, Potter."
Their nightly ritual was the same as always. As the darkness fell, there was nothing to see anymore and somehow words ceased to matter. Snape pulled the blankets to his chin, knowing that sooner or later Harry would at least try to hog them. It was like that every night; Harry would latch onto him until he fell asleep, then he would roll over and steal the blankets. At some time before morning, he'd use Snape's shoulder as a pillow, so that Snape would wake up to the tickling sensation of Harry's breath on his skin.
Deciding he was too tired to go through the whole squirming ritual tonight, Snape simply rolled to his side and waited patiently for Harry to get comfortable so they could finally sleep.
He felt a wry smile tug at his lips as Harry snuggled against him, molding his back against his chest. At least there would be nothing poking at him in the middle of the night this way.
Yawning, he refused to acknowledge the small twinge of disappointment that thought caused.
Part 10 Harry's second last day at Hogwarts dawned annoyingly bright and sunny. Being used to the constant faint lighting down in the dungeons, he was squinting his eyes as he followed behind Snape to the Great Hall.
A moment later his eyes went wide as he saw Draco Malfoy sitting at the Ravenclaw tables and casting hesitant looks at him. "Well I'll be damned." He'd thought Malfoy would make his decision at the last possible minute and even then make it sound like he was actually making a real decision instead of doing the only thing he could.
"Morning." Smiling knowingly, he sat down across from Malfoy.
"Good morning, Potter." Draco looked up at him, wondering for a moment what the smile meant and then decided it was simply an expression and nothing more than that.
They sat in silence for a moment, both pretending they were too busy eating to actually have a conversation.
Draco sipped his juice, feeling his stomach clench. He really didn't want to talk about this; it would be so much easier if he simply moved into the house and that was it. He didn't even have that much to pack. Most of his belongings were still in his trunk, waiting for him to simply pick it up and leave.
"So... Have you decided yet?" Harry knew a dozen different ways to ask, but he settled with the one that would bruise the famed Malfoy ego the least.
A wry smile appeared on Draco's lips. Now that he had to say the words out loud, he didn't feel like avoiding the issue after all. "Cut to the chase, Potter. We both know I'm not suicidal enough to decline your more than gracious offer." It was not a real choice, because he had no alternative. He couldn't stay in Hogwarts anymore, and even if by some miracle he was allowed to stay, he couldn't stand the silence of the Slytherin rooms for another night.
Living with Potter and his relatives wouldn't be as bad. He hoped.
Harry let some of his amusement for Malfoy's stiff words show. "Of course." He was surprised by how relieved he was by this; no matter how big an asset Malfoy could be in the fighting he was actually more concerned about him as a person.
"Are there any conditions you would like to set on our new arrangement?" There had to be some catch in this, of that Draco was certain.
The very Slytherin question hit Harry hard. It reminded him of most of the talks he'd had with Snape regarding things he took for granted. Friendship, companionship; all forms of any kind of intimacy. "Well..." He shrugged. "Yeah, actually. I want you to at least try to be civil to Remus and Sirius. No stupid games to make their life miserable. And if any of my friends ever come by, I want you to... Well, behave."
He didn't know if he should even make that point. He didn't even know if he had friends anymore. Hermione was away with her family, and he was half convinced she wouldn't be coming back to their insane world where she could find only destruction. He was quite sure that given the choice, he wouldn't. Then there was Ron, who had already lost too much. Why on earth would either of them want to come back?
Draco lowered his gaze, not wanting to look at Potter as he muttered, "You have my word that I won't..." He didn't know how to phrase it. There was no word he and Potter would agree with.
"Good."
Raising his gaze, Draco was stunned to see that Potter was actually satisfied with his hesitant words. He almost rolled his eyes. Gryffindors! But for some reason it wasn't enough. "I mean it. I won't even talk to..." No need to squirm his way through this. "Weasley unless he addresses me first." As if that would ever happen.
Harry didn't want to think about Ron. "Okay." He was going to take Malfoy's word, mostly because it was in the Slytherin's best interest to actually keep it.
There was nothing more to say.
Since he had nothing really pressing to do today -- except maybe to watch Snape work -- Harry spent some extra time with his hot chocolate. He enjoyed the change of taste, even though he would always choose tea in the dungeons over anything.
He didn't say anything as Malfoy lingered with him, holding his own mug tight between his palms as if drawing the warmth from there. It was kind of strange to sit here with Malfoy, especially without the miasma of hostility hovering around them. Strange, but not bad.
A dark shadow was cast over them, and Harry looked up to see Snape standing next to their table. Unable to keep the grin from his lips, he muttered, "Hi."
"Potter. Mr. Malfoy."
Draco put his mug down. "Good morning, professor Snape."
Not bothering with small talk, Snape kept his attention on Malfoy and said, "I assume you have decided to move in with the Gryffindors then." It was not a question.
"Yes, sir. I have. If that's all right with you." Even with the advice he'd got from the Head of his House, Draco somehow needed to say this.
He was not going to ask Snape's opinion on everything, but since Potter was Snape's -- he didn't even know what to call it really and didn't want to focus on that -- he thought it prudent to show that he was well aware of the situation.
Having Potter actually live in Snape's rooms was a show of allegiance, of approval of some sort. Draco doubted it was simple ownership but something more complicated he didn't really want to know. He had to keep in mind that the Head of his House had plans for Potter and no interference was allowed.
Snape let out a snort, but nodded anyway. "It is." He turned to Harry. "I hope your godfather is still at St. Mungo's." His tone indicated that he hoped Black had been taken in as a patient and would spend the rest of his life in the mental ward.
"Yeah, he's staying with Remus. They'll move into the house tomorrow." Once again, Harry was glad that their schedules were the same. It allowed him to spend these last days with Snape without extra regrets.
"Excellent." That would give them plenty of time to work. "If you gentlemen have nothing better to do today, we are going to have a look at your new lodgings."
Both young men nodded at that.
It was strange to walk to Hogsmeade with the two Slytherins. Harry had definitely got used to the flooing and walking the short distance felt odd somehow. Of course he understood why they couldn't simply floo into his new house, but they could have grabbed broomsticks instead. It was a beautiful day for flying.
The way Snape had glared at him when he'd made the suggestion had made him realize that the man didn't exactly consider that an option.
Too bad. Even the mention of flying had made Malfoy's expression brighten.
A moment later Snape stopped and glared at Harry again. "Actually, you should go and get your broom. Hurry up, we don't have the whole day to dawdle!" The impatient nod included Malfoy in his command, and both young men rushed back to the dungeons.
Snape waited for them to return and then handed them both large buckets full of something heavy. "Now let's get going."
Carrying both their brooms and the buckets was awkward and annoying, but Harry didn't complain even though he did glare a lot. He was fairly sure that they were carrying the purple goo Snape had brewed the previous evening, but had no idea what it was for.
Still, it was a nice summer day. Not too hot, maybe a bit windy. It was actually rather pleasant to walk from Hogwarts to Hogsmeade. They met no one on their way to the village, even though they could see people bustling around as they neared the house. Harry was startled as he realized his new house was not far from Honeydukes.
At least there was something good about this whole thing.
Since he'd paid little attention to all this when he'd first visited here, he tried to take in most of the details, wondering what the place looked like to Snape and Malfoy.
They were probably used to houses that were bigger than this, but Harry was amazed by the sheer size of the place. And there was a real garden! Didn't look like there were lots of gnomes there.
It wasn't likely he'd have much time to worry about things like de-gnoming anyway.
"Is this it?" Snape looked at the house. He could tell the answer from the dazed look on Harry's face and couldn't blame him for being shocked by this place. Shaking his head slightly with disbelief, he gestured with his hand. "After you."
Harry didn't say anything as he pulled the key from out of his pocket and then opened the door. A slight whiff of some kind of a cleaning potion made him almost sneeze. "Welcome to my humble house." There was a world of sarcasm in his voice.
The previous visit here had been dream like, his only memory the need to get back to the dungeons as quickly as humanly possible.
Showing his house to Snape was somehow making this real.
They walked through the rooms, inspecting the place. It was as if Harry was seeing everything for the first time; the surprisingly tasteful furniture, the hallway and the almost uncomfortably large rooms. He wasn't sure what to think of all of this.
It was a bit too much. Like everything seemed to be lately, chafing his sense of propriety the wrong way.
Snape cast suspicious looks at the locks and ran both his fingers and his wand over the doorknobs and the small latches on the windows. His gaze missed nothing in the large house.
It took some time to get through every room. The house didn't resemble the smaller, shabby looking cottage at all. There was a large basement that made Snape nod with approval, enough storage area for a big family down there and no sign of rodents. The ground level floor had two smaller rooms and a living room with an access to a real dining room and a surprisingly modern looking kitchen.
Harry paused for a moment to stare at the staircase. A small grin flickered on his lips as he realized that there was a cupboard under the stairs.
They marched upstairs.
"I see they assume a teenage wizard needs at least four bedrooms." Staring at the doorways leading to fairly sized rooms, Snape shook his head in disgust. From a dormitory shared by five youngsters to this? Either the people in the Order thought Harry already had an overblown ego or they wanted him to have one.
That brought another wry smile to Harry's face. "Yeah. Stupid, isn't it?" He remembered Dudley and his second bedroom. Maybe some people really lived like that. He most certainly didn't want to.
Draco liked the place. It was large and the portraits and other decorations looked expensive. They were also artistic and tastful, unlike some things he'd witnessed lately. The shades of green and grey repeating in both the furniture and the curtains made him grin and cast a look at Potter.
Who didn't seem to notice his amusement.
"Have you chosen a bedroom already?" Ignoring Harry's comment, Snape waved his wand and sent all the doors flying open. "If not, please do so now."
Harry shrugged. "I haven't really thought about it..." Seeing the very familiar look on Snape's face, he cut the sentence and went with, "I'll have a look."
He didn't really care which of the rooms he'd take, but looked around anyway. All the rooms looked nice; they had a bed, a small table at the bedside, shelves for personal items by the wardrobe and a few comfortable looking chairs. The only real difference was the view. He didn't like the windows pointing towards the busy main street nor the one from which he could see the Three Broomsticks at the distance. In the end, he pointed at the second door on the left. "I'll take that one."
Nodding slightly, Snape started the inspection with that room.
"May I..." Draco didn't finish his sentence when he saw Potter nod. He didn't like asking. "Thank you." The very empty phrase he'd always used only to gain something tasted weird in his mouth.
He was more thorough with his examination. The room he chose was the one farthest away from the bathroom upstairs. Incidentally, it was also the one farthest away from the one Potter had chosen.
They didn't linger upstairs for long, it was a big house and they had work to do.
Snape gestured at the buckets they had left in the hall. "We are going to make certain that your new home is as secure as the Slytherin dungeons." He cast a look at the large windows and grimaced with distaste. Well, almost as secure anyway.
It was a good thing that young Malfoy was already familiar with washing the windows. That skill would come handy now.
Using the exact tone as he did in classroom, Snape added, "Usually the houses we live in are charmed with wards. However, a charm is only as strong as the person casting it and will most of the time break when that person dies. Therefore a potion is a better option."
Harry smiled slightly at that. He was certain that Snape thought that a potion was the preferred option in everything. "I know. A potion will seep into the walls themselves and live in the house for as long as it stands."
There was an incredulous expression on Snape's face, mirrored by the faint shock on Malfoy's.
"Hey I may not be good at Potions, but that's basic defense knowledge!"
Snape didn't comment on that, but he did shake his head slightly in amazement. At least now he didn't have to explain every single detail. Ignoring the smile on Harry's face, he looked at Malfoy.
"Even with the protective barriers, it would be prudent to raise wards as well." There was no such thing as being too careful. "I expect you to look after that in case your Gryffindor housemates don't share our views on proper protection."
Draco lifted an eyebrow. True, Snape had been the one to maintain the wards around the cottage, but that was expected. He had been the adult there. Certainly Potter and his godfather would handle the security of their new home?
But as Snape had said, they were Gryffindors. "Of course, sir." He had to fight against a grin. He'd make sure Potter was safe, since that seemed to be the very core of Snape's order.
He was not going to screw this up, especially after his little talk with Snape that had kept him awake half the previous night.
It was funny, how he'd always seen the world divided in two. There were people who had power, and they could do whatever they wanted. The arrogance had been fed to him in his mother's milk, everything in his life showing him that he was special, one of the privileged.
Of course there also had to be those who were powerless. Those you could use. Sheep, his father called them. Not only Muggles, but Mudbloods as well, those who had the potential, but decided to waste it in being 'good'; Gryffindors, Dumbledore's lackeys.
Now he was not certain about anything anymore.
Harry was rolling his eyes, not at all surprised that Snape would say that to Malfoy. It was more than clear what the man thought about the other houses. "Thank you for the vote of confidence."
He could have sworn that the faintly amused and yet proud expressions on both the Slythrins' faces were identical.
Busying himself with the potion and the brushes, Snape ignored that as well. He didn't care if Lupin and Black cast a dozen protective charms around the place. Taking care of some of the defense would give young Malfoy a sense of purpose, something he would probably need to survive living with these half-wits.
He spent a few more minutes explaining the use of the protective magic before drawing the first line across the wall in the living room. The purple potion clashed with the warm green paint, but in a few moments the potion was absorbed into the wall, leaving no trace of it behind. "Like this."
"Can I help?" Since this wasn't about actually making a potion, Harry was certain he would be allowed to do something. He was right. Grabbing a brush, he went to paint the walls with the potion.
It was actually fairly intriguing. They used different potions on the walls and the doors. Malfoy sighed a suffering sigh when Snape told him to wash the windows using an extra potion in the water. It made Harry grin. With all these signs of humanity Malfoy was showing, he might actually get used to having him around.
They worked on every possible wall, painting the tiles in the bathroom as well as the stone walls down in the basement. After finishing with the inside of the house, they went out and Harry and Malfoy watched as Snape drew a protective circle around the whole perimeter of the property before mounting their brooms and sprinkling the roof with yet another potion.
Harry had never had this much fun with a potion -- not counting the lubricant potion of course. But this was still great fun. He enjoyed swooping down from the heights, the circling with Malfoy almost like a dance. It was clear from Malfoy's expression that he wasn't the only one having a good time.
Of course their actions started to gather a crowd after a while. Seeing the small group of witches stop and stare at them right outside the owl office made him sprinkle the rest of the potion as quick as possible and then land next to Snape with a slight frown on his face.
"What is it, Potter?" Snape asked. He'd seen how the complete joy had disappeared from Harry's face a moment earlier.
Not looking up, Harry said, "We have an audience." He had to agree that maybe he would have stopped and stared at two people flying over a house too, but he didn't want the crowd to get any bigger. Or the people to recognize any of them.
"Ah." It didn't really matter. "We should be going. It's almost lunch time." There was nothing more they could do to the house. It was as secure as it could be.
Harry nodded eagerly. He was actually hungry after all the work, and nothing sounded better than to return to Hogwarts.
"Apparating this short a distance is more dangerous than walking." Maybe if they could Apparate all the way inside Hogwarts' grounds it would be the best option, but not now. "I'm certain I can make my way back to Hogwarts on my own, but you may fly ahead if you wish to." Snape had already shrunk the now empty buckets -- not having to worry about the shrinking process destroying the potion -- and pushed them inside his robes.
Still feeling the exhilaration from the short moment of flying, Harry cast a longing look at his broom. Then he thought of Snape walking alone and shook his head firmly. "We'll walk." He didn't want Malfoy to go flying off alone either.
The only answer he got was a fairly annoyed glare. He didn't mind, he was used to those already.
There were other glares as well. As they walked down the street, a few witches and wizards stopped to stare at them, whispering amongst themselves. It was an unpleasant reminder of how true Snape's preception of their lives was. The looks he got were happy and revering and they turned sour whenever the person realized who he was with.
Harry wasn't surprised to see Snape ignore all the stares. Years of suspicion and rumors about his loyalties must have prepared him for this. The way Malfoy kept his expression impassive as well wasn't a surprise either, even though Harry could see that he was more tense than usual.
He wasn't going to comment on it.
The tension in the Slytherin didn't leave even when they got back to Hogwarts. Ignoring the smiling greetings from the professors, Harry headed straight to the Great Hall and the Ravenclaw table and motioned Malfoy to follow him. They were both hungry enough to concentrate mainly on the food appearing on the table, avoiding eye contact and keeping the conversation to bare minimum, neither ready to risk this tentative truce they'd formed.
Right after lunch, Snape came to inform them he was going to talk to the Headmaster, alone. His tone suggested they keep out of trouble.
Both Harry and Draco nodded at that.
Maybe it was for the best. Harry didn't want to waste the whole day sitting on the couch and trying very hard not to focus on the fact that tomorrow he would be living elsewhere. There wasn't anything for him to really do, except to pack his things, and that would be too morose as well.
He wanted to do something he loved, something that would drive all this gloom away.
There weren't many things to choose from. He wasn't interested in reading anything, and walking through the castle would simply lead him to places he didn't want to go to.
He looked at Malfoy who didn't seem to want to go down to the dungeons alone either. It was strange, with anyone else, he wouldn't hesitate suggesting a walk or a game of chess, but did he really want to spend time with Malfoy like that?
Surprisingly, he realized he didn't mind the idea. They'd have to spend time together anyway with Malfoy living with him and it would be best if they could move past this phase where old enmity had turned into awkward politeness.
Harry knew of one thing he could suggest to Malfoy that wouldn't lead to complete disaster. It wasn't much, but it was a start. "What do you say about a little one on one Quidditch?" He'd settle to flying around aimlessly if he had to, but he simply had to get on his broom right now.
Startled, Draco looked up from the napkin he'd been playing with. "Quidditch?" He snapped his mouth shut, not wanting to sound like a pathetic fool who was shocked by the fact that someone wanted to spend time with him.
"Yeah, Quidditch." After all this time with Snape, Harry had learned that when he felt like he was walking on thin ice, honesty was the best policy. "I'm not going to waste the whole day moping. It's a perfect day for flying."
"Do you think it would be safe?" There were wards all around Hogwarts, but Draco wasn't going to forget that during the years, lots of dubious people had managed to sneak through them. He hoped the Quidditch pitch would be secure. He'd missed flying more than anything.
"Yeah, I think so." Harry nodded. Both Snape and Dumbledore knew he loved to fly, and they would have warned him against it if there was any danger. "So what do you say?"
"Sounds good." Even though his new situation would have compelled him to agree even if he hated the mere idea, Draco was almost radiating with relief. He wasn't going to spend the day alone in the common room.
Smiling with genuine joy, Harry nodded towards the door. "Let's go, then."
Part 11 "Tea?"
Harry nodded. "Yeah. Thanks."
Pouring a cup full of the steaming liquid, Snape kept his voice quiet as he asked, "Have you finished with your packing yet?"
It was fortunate that Harry hadn't chosen to get the teapot himself, for the question made him jump. He didn't want to be reminded of tomorrow, but Snape never did let him escape reality. "Yeah." Not counting a stray sock behind the couch or the few toiletries left on the shelf in the bathroom. "Almost."
"I see." Deciding against making any comments, Snape put the pot down and then offered Harry his tea.
It wasn't really intentional, but Harry's fingers brushed against Snape's hand as he reached out to accept the cup. The way he let the touch linger on the other hand was. He didn't even feel ashamed of it, not even when Snape raised an eyebrow at him and that very familiar sneer appeared on his lips.
Harry simply drank his tea.
There was nothing to do, nothing to distract him from the fact that this was the last night he would spend here.
He was certain they could discuss about the future in a calm and logical manner if he brought up the subject. He could even mention his concerns and Snape would listen.
Leaning back on the couch, Harry closed his eyes. He didn't want to spend the evening talking about things in a reasonable manner. Nothing could change what would happen tomorrow. A discussion would undoubtedly lead into a fight over what kind of a future they could have together, and he really didn't need that right now.
He simply wanted to enjoy the peace and quiet for as long as he could.
It was almost as if he was living through a flashback, the similarities to their last day at the cottage enough to make Harry uncomfortable. He was going to say goodbye again and leave Snape behind again. Facing the future that would hold very few surprises was even worse than the blind jump to the unknown.
All too soon, Dobby came to collect the tray away. Harry didn't manage even a faint smile at the house elf, causing Dobby to cast worried looks at both him and Snape before leaving. It was late and Harry was tired. Too tired to pretend.
He snuggled on the chair and let his gaze move over all the familiar things; the cupboard, the doorway leading to the bedroom. Snape didn't seem to notice his stare -- or at least pretended not to -- and Harry spent long minutes simply looking at him.
"I believe it's time to retire for the night, Potter." Snape didn't comment on the flinch his words caused.
Gesturing with his hand, Harry muttered, "Yeah, you go on. I'll be there in a minute." He wasn't ready to get up yet.
It was much simpler to listen to Snape move around in the bathroom, the sound of a shower soothing, drowning the insistant ticking of the clock on the wall. The hands of the clock showed it was time to go to bed, and Harry could feel the lassitude spread all over him.
When Snape disappeared into the bedroom, the calmness seemed to turn into something suffocating. Harry stood up, ignoring his aching muscles and padded to the bathroom to go through his evening routines. Even though the warm water worked miracles on his slightly sore body, he didn't linger under the spray.
He wasn't going to waste more time than necessary showering.
The lights were already low in the bedroom. He could see Snape lying in bed, covers pulled up to his chest as usual, and the sight made him stop near the doorway and simply stare.
For a brief moment he wondered if he should turn around and walk back to the living room and spend the night in his chair. It would be too difficult to sleep here now. Then his feet were moving on their own volition, carrying him to the bedside and it was the easiest thing in the world to slip under the covers next to Snape.
A soft sigh greeted him, but there were no words.
Harry was grateful, for he didn't think he could handle talking now. He was barely able to turn out the lights completely.
Like last night, Harry snuggled as close to Snape as possible, not waiting until they could both pretend they were asleep. He knew that if his actions were unwelcome, Snape would tense or say so.
It had been a long day, and he was exhausted. They wouldn't have to wake up early, but it was best to get a good night's sleep before tomorrow, for it would undoubtedly be a busy day.
The meeting that would change everything was merely hours away, and Harry didn't want to look half dead in front of the Order.
His eyes opened to stare into the utter darkness.
Tired as he was, he could already feel insomnia lurking at the edge of his awareness. He moved even closer to Snape, his arm snaking around his waist and squeezed his eyes shut. Breathing in and out, he tried to relax.
Pushing the panic away was harder than he could have imagined. All he could think of was that he didn't want to go through tomorrow. Whatever small steps he'd already taken on the path set for him were insignificant compared to tomorrow. His decision made in Dumbldeore's office while watching the Headmaster and Minister Fudge had felt so profound, but it had simply been the end of his inner struggle. Tomorrow, he'd have to match his resolve with actions, and it was terrifying.
Trying to dissolve his fears with yet another deep breath, Harry concentrated on feeling Snape's body against his own, grounding him to the here and now.
Not exactly a relaxing thing.
The need that flooded through him was almost as terrifying as thoughts of leaving. Snape was lying so close to him, his body hard angles against his, the faint scent of herbs lingering all around him, and there was no way Harry could keep his own body from stirring.
He knew he should let go and then walk back into the bathroom, but he was already settled down and as nice as a slow wank in the shower sounded, this was better.
The silence was broken by Snape's calm breathing only. It would have been enough to lull him to sleep if he hadn't been so excited by the simple closeness of Snape's body. Maybe in time it would indeed override the lust and the angst and he could simply drift away.
Minutes ticked by. Harry fidgeted a little, trying to find a better position but unwilling to let go of Snape. His feet were uncomfortably tangled with the covers, but squirming didn't really help.
He was restless and horny and was it really hot in here or was it just his imagination? He didn't know, but the thought of taking off his T-shirt sounded like a plan. Then again, pressing his naked chest against Snape's robes would just make this worse.
He fidgeted again, trying to find a more comfortable way to lie so close to the man.
"Will you stop that!" Snape's voice came from the darkness, sounding annoyed. It made him jump and accidentally push his erection even harder against Snape's hip. "And do something about that thing!"
Harry was glad it was dark. This way his embarrassment wouldn't be so damn obvious. "Oh. I'm sorry." He'd thought Snape was already asleep. Moving back a bit, he tried to will his erection away.
It didn't exactly work.
"Good." Rolling forward, Snape snapped the word out. They would both be busy tomorrow and maybe after this they could finally get some sleep. "The potion is in the round bottle on the nightstand."
Harry wondered if he was talking about the infamous neutering potion. That wouldn't surprise him, knowing Snape's evil sense of humor. "Potion?"
"Yes. Potion. Now would you please hurry up! I don't have all night for this."
Deciding not to ask, Harry squirmed towards the edge of the bed, reaching out with his hand. At least the small round bottle was easy to find by touch only. He opened the bottle carefully, sniffing the contents.
The scent made him freeze. He would definitely recognize this potion anywhere.
Did Snape really mean what he thought he meant? It was pretty obvious, considering that he was holding lubricant potion in his hands, but why would Snape give him this now?
Heart pounding, Harry sat there for a moment, wondering if he'd fallen asleep after all and was now experiencing a very hot dream.
It didn't exactly feel like a dream, even though he was certain he would dream of shagging Snape on this very last night in the dungeons. Of course in a dream he would already be naked instead of contemplating imagining things.
He moved quickly back to Snape, all thoughts of just closing his eyes and getting a good night's sleep gone. "I didn't think you'd have the time to work on anything as insignificant as this." Laying his hand on Snape's back -- missing in the dark and fumbling for a while until his palm met with the soft cloth of his night robes -- he regretted his words instantly as he felt Snape move away from him.
"You may want to call in insignificant, but I refuse to let you stick that thing anywhere near me without proper lubrication." There was definitely amusement in Snape's voice.
Harry's fingers went nerveless and he dropped the bottle. Fortunately it hit the mattress next to him. "Really?" He hadn't even thought about this. Snape always tried to be in control of everything, so he'd assumed he wouldn't wish to relax enough to enjoy being shagged.
Snorting, Snape refused to answer that. He rested his head on his crossed arms and waited for Harry to stop the unavoidable gawking and get on with it.
He didn't have to wait for long.
But instead of feeling hands yanking off his night robe, there was a hesitant touch on his shoulder, compelling him to turn around. He complied, wondering what was going on. The moment of fumbling and then the soft kiss planted on his lips were an answer enough.
He should have remembered this; the slightly sloppy kisses Harry bestowed so easily and without any agenda beyond their mutual enjoyment.
Hating even the idea of breaking the kiss, Harry muttered against Snape's lips, "You know you don't have to do this if you don't want to." No matter how much he wanted this, he had the very unpleasant feeling of this being a goodbye of sorts.
A consolation prize Snape was offering to him.
"Don't be an idiot, Potter. I'm not sacrificing my virtue for your sake." Snape leaned closer for another kiss Harry was eager to give. Waiting patiently until Harry had to breathe again, he gasped in air and then muttered, "I am not doing anything I don't want to."
He sounded rather angry at that.
Harry smiled. "Good." It wasn't pity either, he could bet that Snape never did things out of pity. "Neither am I." With that, he kissed Snape again. He wasn't stupid enough to ask if he really wanted this then.
"Yes, that is fairly obvious." The sneer was audible in Snape's voice. "I assume you are aware of what to do with the potion?"
Opting against rambling, Harry simply muttered, "Yeah, I am."
"Good. Then get on with it."
It was pitch black in the bedroom, but Harry had no trouble trailing his lips along Snape's neck. He'd missed this so much, he needed this simple touch more than what was being offered.
The reasons for this didn't really matter. Harry didn't care if it was a way to say goodbye or a dream or something else. He was touching Snape, and it felt more real than anything in his world and it was enough.
He took his time undressing Snape, touching and tasting the familiar skin before reaching for the potion again. He was nervous, the feeling making his erection wilt a little. It wasn't a bad thing, really, because he needed to make this last. Snape had made awfully many comments about hormonal teenagers already, and right now, Harry wanted to prove him wrong. Wanted to make him feel good, make him revel in his touch.
Scrambling out of his pajama pants was less than graceful, but since Snape couldn't see the way he struggled with them and then flung them across the floor, it didn't really matter.
He wanted this. Foolish words of gratitude bubbled in his mind, almost escaping before he swallowed them down. He didn't think he needed to say anything out loud, his actions made his enthusiasm more than clear.
Trying not to let the bottle slip from his nervous grip, Harry scooped up some of the potion. He needed to make this perfect somehow; show Snape he wasn't a fumbling idiot. He didn't know what had made him offer this and didn't really care, but he had to make sure that Snape wouldn't regret this.
He lay his palm on Snape's arse, hesitant touches in the dark.
This would be so much easier if he put the lights on so that he could see. He actually thought of going for his wand for a moment, but then discarded the notion. He didn't want to let go of Snape now, didn't want to lose the connection.
Didn't want to risk this was just a dream and moving would wake him up.
It was definitely awkward to do it like this, but he was determined to make it work. Slowly, he ran his potion free hand down Snape's arse, the beat of his own heart so loud in his ears that he could hear nothing else.
Harry felt Snape move slightly. At first he thought he was pushing him away. Then his breath caught as he realized Snape was spreading his legs, inviting him in.
He sat frozen in place for a moment, unable to comprehend that small movement for just a second. Then his tentative touch turned into a firmer one, his fingers trailing Snape's arse, moving without hesitation.
All the thoughts of settling to simply sharing the same bed with Snape disappeared as he touched the heat inside him. He was used to self denial, at least to a point, but he could never again lie to himself about this. The quiet evenings and the discussions and sleeping next to Snape were good, but he wanted this as well.
He poured more of the potion on his hand, not caring if some of it dribbled onto the sheets. He was going to shag Snape and nothing else mattered.
For the first time, Snape's silence in bed unnerved Harry. Usually he could tell by the sounds if he was doing this right, but there was nothing but steady breathing. He couldn't even see Snape's expression. Would there be approval in the dark gaze, or quiet annoyance? Did he really want this?
The very unpleasant thought made Harry ask, "I'm not hurting you, am I?"
"No, you're not." It came as a suffering sigh. "It seems this is the one thing where your standards are above dismal."
Harry smiled at the words, but he still wished he could see Snape. In the darkness, there was nothing but skin on skin, as if everything else had disappeared and there was no world beyond the bed. As intimate as it felt, he couldn't help wondering what it would be like to actually see the skin he was touching. How would Snape's eyes look as he pressed into him?
The thought alone made him shiver.
Eyes open, staring into the complete darkness, he kept touching Snape. Trying to compensate for the lack of sight, his ears picked up every sound, the rustling of the sheets, the slow wet glide of his own fingers. He leaned down and pressed a soft kiss on Snape's skin, needing that connection as well.
"Do remember that the potion is not edible."
"Okay." That mental image alone was enough to make Harry's hands shake and he couldn't believe how calmly Snape could say that. It didn't even sound as weird as it had the first time Harry had heard about licking someone's arse. Would his mouth there shatter Snape's control? He had no idea, but he wished he could find out.
He was going to do that some day and to hell with Snape's notions of not sharing things anymore! Now that he knew that they both really did want this, he was not going to let go.
Deciding that starting an argument right now would be a very bad idea, Harry simply kissed his way up Snape's spine.
He closed his slippery fingers over his own erection, spreading the potion over his skin quickly. This was going to be over before he ever got inside Snape if he spent a moment longer preparing himself.
Then he was there, pushing in, and he had to bite his lip to keep from losing it and coming way too soon.
He wanted this to be good.
Harry moved as slowly as he could, nuzzling against Snape's neck. He didn't want to rush this, but was unable to stay still. The heat surrounding him was maddening, forcing him to flex his hips ever so slightly, to try to bury himself even deeper in Snape. He pushed Snape's hair out of his way so that he could trace his soft skin right under his ear with his lips.
Sliding his hand down Snape's arm to brace himself against the mattress, he groaned quietly as he realized Snape was clutching at the sheets with a death grip.
"Are you all right?" The question came out from between clenched teeth as Harry fought against the need to thrust.
"You still ask such stupid questions." Snape's voice was hoarse. "Now move!"
Harry couldn't disobey that. He let out an almost grateful sigh as he started to move, searching for a rhythm with a few almost painfully awkward thrusts before finding the right tempo.
His breath came in harsh pants, his lips were moving, but no sound came out. Even in this haze of pleasure, instinct warned him against the word. He leaned closer to Snape, kissing his neck again. The breath that formed a fiery "Mine!" caressed the skin beneath his lips, but he didn't voice it out loud.
He'd always known he could be possessive and needed people who would be there just for him. There had been that desire whenever he'd been with a lover, but it had never been as strong as now.
The need to claim Snape as his wasn't simply because he was buried inside of him, joined in this intoxicating moment. Shagging him felt so good it was almost scary, but simply the fact that he was with Snape was even better. He'd never had anything he'd wanted this much, and he never wanted to let go of this.
Harry let out a choking sound as he felt Snape squeeze him, muttering curses from under his breath about sadistic bastards. He was too far gone to know what he was saying, and hoped that any understandable words were lost in the middle of the desperate gasps.
It was impossible to stop now and Harry sobbed out something that sounded embarrassingly like an apology as he thrust in harder. He didn't want this to end yet, wanted Snape to come first, wanted this to last forever, the incredible rush of pleasure about to hit him like a charm and he squeezed Snape's hip so hard it had to bruise as he came.
He managed somehow not to slump on Snape's back, breathing in harsh breaths as his heartrate slowed down somewhere closer to the norm.
Slightly disappointed with himself for coming before his partner could, Harry leaned back and pulled Snape with him to his side. He winced a little as the movement separated him from Snape, wondering if there would be any comments about the mess he was undoubtedly making.
He lay there for a moment, trying to catch his breath. Damn, he had missed this, the insanity of the frantic movements, the touch of Snape's skin against his.
The bedsprings let out a faint creak as Snape fidgeted, as if he was starting to move away from him. A moment later Harry realized that he was indeed moving away, getting ready to leave the bed.
"No... Please, wait." Harry didn't know what Snape was thinking he was about to do next, but somehow the mere thought of not touching him now was making his chest too heavy. Did Snape really think he'd just lie here and maybe even fall asleep without even trying to make him come? The thought was completely unpleasant, more horrifying than anything.
Snape stopped inching away from him and lay there waiting. "Yes?"
The fact that he didn't really sound angry was worse than anything.
Without hesitation, Harry molded himself against Snape's back again, kissing his neck. "Sorry. Didn't mean to be so selfish." He didn't want to be sorry, he just wanted to make things better.
He hugged Snape against him before reaching out to grab Snape's still hard prick. Trying very hard not to fumble, he settled into the familiar stroking rhythm.
He kissed Snape's shoulder gently as he heard the man's breath catch.
Soon, his hand was joined by Snape's, guiding his touch to a faster pace. It didn't take long; feeling Snape arch into their joined touch, Harry wrapped himself tighter against Snape, the soft groan echoing in the darkness escaping his own throat when he felt the familiar wetness on his hand.
Taking deep breaths, Harry lay there. He was glad of the darkness, knowing there was no way he could not grin foolishly right now.
Next to him, Snape squirmed around to find his wand and cast a cleaning charm on the sheets. Then as an afterthought, he cleaned them both as well. It would have to be enough until the morning. Harry yawned, feeling completely exhausted and almost boneless with contentment. It was fortunate he wasn't required anywhere until noon.
He lay back down. Not even tomorrow's meeting and thoughts of war could keep him awake. This already felt like a sweet dream, and he was perfectly content to let it continue forever.
"Snape?"
"Yes?" Snape wasn't surprised to hear Harry's voice. It was late, they had just had sex and it would be reasonable to fall asleep. So of course he would feel the need to talk right now.
Instead of saying anything, Harry inched closer. His hand brushed against Snape's nose, feeling around till it found his cheek. A moment later he leaned down to kiss his lips. It was an unhurried kiss, full of satisfaction.
There were still no words when Harry pulled back a little and then once again latched onto Snape like a leech.
Snape let none of the sarcastic words that came to mind escape him. He simply moved a little to accommodate Harry better and then lay there, staring into the darkness.
He's a bit amazed of how easy this was. Not the physical act; it was so familiar to him from years past that he didn't need to think about it really. But he'd wondered about how Harry would deal with this, and how would he be able to simply give his body here on his own territory, where no one had ever touched him like this before.
It had not been earth shattering, but the quiet burn had been more than enough. The simple pleasure Harry wanted to share with him was still somewhat a mystery to him.
Sighing, he closed his eyes.
When he opened them again, his inner clock was telling him it was time to wake up.
He let Harry sleep as late as possible, dressing up as quietly as he could. This would be quite different from yesterday, when they had almost been able to pretend that things weren't really going to change.
The way Harry so clearly sulked through the breakfast they had in Snape's living room confirmed his suspicions.
Snape didn't comment on the silence or the almost panicky look in Harry's eyes. There was nothing new to say. This reminded him of the last day they'd spent at the safe house, when Harry had suddenly looked like he hadn't really understood that they were leaving until that final moment.
At least this time they could have some privacy. He didn't even try to pretend he didn't know what was going on, but simply sat next to Harry on the couch, ignoring the way Harry seemed to need to touch him all the time.
Time seemed to almost fly by, which was strange, for they were simply sitting here, doing nothing. Snape was startled to notice that even though it felt like they had sent the breakfast tray back only a moment ago, it was already lunch time.
"Do you want me to send for lunch?" Seeing the slight shake of head, Snape decided that he wasn't hungry either. "All right. But I insist we have some tea."
It would definitely look bad if Harry fainted later on.
Harry looked up, shrugging. "Whatever." His gaze was distant.
The familiar house elf bringing the tea looked worried again, casting a disapproving look at Snape before disappearing. Snape wanted to hex the little creature.
This was definitely not his idea of a pleasant day. Almost anything would be better than sitting in an oppressive silence and waiting. Harry seemed to be completely satisfied with his moping, though. He simply took the offered cup of tea and then leaned even closer to Snape.
Snape didn't move away, allowing the touch.
Minutes ticked by. The silence made it feel like they were inside a bubble that existed out of time. An apt analogy, for Snape didn't want to focus on either the past or the future. He couldn't change what had already happened, all he could do was to accept it and move on. This time, he was unable to shape much of their near future either. It was out of his hands for as soon as they left this room, things would once again spin out of his control.
He wasn't sure he even wanted to have any control on what would happen. It was easier to simply let go and move back to the shadows where he'd lived most of his life.
Tea time came and went without either man commenting on it.
Finally Harry let out a sigh. "It's time, isn't it?" He sounded dejected. When Snape nodded, he sighed again. "I guess..." The words got stuck in his throat and he had to swallow before saying, "I guess we'd better get going."
Snape got up. "Yes. They're waiting." He didn't say whom they were waiting for, because they both knew the truth already. No one was really waiting for him, while their world was holding breath expecting Harry to arrive any moment now.
He walked to the door, not looking at the packed trunk waiting near the wall. The house elves would take care of that later on.
"Snape?"
The very quiet sound of his name spoken out made him stop. Turning around, he saw Harry standing next to the couch as if he hadn't even moved. Snape didn't like the uncomfortable sensation that filled him as he watched Harry.
Everything ended. This was the second time in weeks he was doing this, and for some reason it didn't get any easier. If anything, this was more difficult than leaving the cottage, and Snape had no idea why. "We have to go."
"I know."
Snape saw the slight change in Harry, once again marveling at the strength he was showing, at the same time wondering just exactly how much of it was pure stubborness. He knew that there would be no whining, no confusion, even though Harry would undoubtedly kiss him before they left the dungeons.
He was glad to see that there was only a very faint trace of the sadness showing in the green eyes. Harry looked determined to face whatever the day was going to throw at him.
When Harry finally stepped next to him and raised his face, clearly expecting a kiss, Snape leaned down. He didn't want to say anything, not having the faintest idea of what would be proper in a situation like this. Any platitude would be too emotional or sound completely hollow.
The kiss tasted of sorrow, salty like swallowed tears. Snape closed his eyes at the taste and when the brief touch of Harry's lips on his was gone, he wanted to wipe his mouth.
Opening the door, he gestured at the shadowy hallway, waiting for a briefest moment before following Harry.
Part 12 Harry could feel the excitement in the air as soon as he stepped out of the Slytherin dungeons.
It had been nice and quiet down there, the hallways as empty as always. Even with the torches here and there, the light was always faint these days, when there was no need for multitudes of students to see where they were going.
Shivering, Harry watched the people in the paintings rush towards the Entrance Hall and the Great Hall. The sound of dozens of people talking was almost deafening, different voices blurring into an annoying buzz that seemed to come from everywhere around him.
The fact that most of the ghosts were flying around the staircase, yelling to each other didn't really help.
He smiled slightly as Snape glared at the Bloody Baron who was waving his sword around and making very nasty comments. The Slytherin ghost didn't seem to be immune to the glare. Instead of making threats, he backed away slowly and then rushed to chase after Peeves.
The contrast to the peaceful morning spent with Snape was almost too much. Harry wanted nothing more than to turn around and walk back into the dungeons, but he knew it was the one thing he couldn't do now. He couldn't help muttering, "Bloody hell."
Snape cast a sharp look at him, but said nothing.
It was more annoying than the disapproving words that were so obviously on the man's mind. Harry bristled a little. Anger was better than the hollow feeling in the pit of his stomach, but he didn't want to be angry with Snape. He was probably the only person in the world he wasn't angry with right now.
There were sounds of footsteps coming from behind them. Harry looked over his shoulder, smiling faintly as he saw professor McGonagall hurry towards them. This would be it, the end of his peace and quiet, not ending with a crowd staring but with polite small talk.
To his surprise, McGonagall simply nodded at him, cast a slightly amused look at Snape and then moved on.
Not wishing to analyze the look right now, Harry kept moving, his feet feeling heavier with every step. He could hear the sounds coming from the main hallway and knew that there would be more people in the Great Hall than he'd ever seen before.
He was glad they weren't using any of the larger, more crowded hallways, for now he could pretend a moment longer. Snape's presence next to him gave him strength, but not even that could drive away all the butterflies that were so merrily dancing around in his stomach. Especially now that the man was clearly heading towards the teacher's entryway.
A small sigh escaped Harry as they stood by the stone wall.
Pointing at the small doorway, Snape muttered, "I will go through here. You should probably use the main entrance." He knew that it was what people would expect, their glorious hero making an entrance. He also knew this was something Harry had to do on his own.
Harry grimaced, but he knew it was true. "Yeah." He would have to try to get used to this, for from now on, things would never again be simple.
There was nothing more to say. Snape didn't want to share another sad kiss with Harry, so he simply turned around, his hand grabbing the doorknob without having to even look where he was reaching. He had used this entrance for most of his years here and it was almost as familiar to him as the dungeons.
"Snape?"
He turned around to look at Harry, who was still standing there, as if waiting for something. "Yes?"
"When I come back to Hogwarts to meet with Dumbledore or if there's an Order meeting..." There was a small pause, as if Harry didn't know how to really say it. "I'll come to see you. I mean, I'll come here. To be. With you."
He wondered if Snape understood what he really meant; that he didn't just want to see him sitting in the Great Hall, wouldn't crawl into the dungeons simply to get more great sex. He wanted everything. Maybe he was greedy and maybe he shouldn't want this so bad, but he did.
He wasn't going to let go of this and he'd be damned if he'd ever settle with a big house and followers and memories.
Snape raised an eyebrow, his hand squeezing the doorknob. "You will?" He could hear well that Harry's words hadn't been a question or a plea.
A nod.
It didn't surprise Snape. "I don't think that's wise." Now that he couldn't act as a spy anymore, he didn't know what his part in the war would be, but he was sure it wasn't to stand by Harry Potter like this.
"I didn't say it was. I'm saying I want to continue seeing you." Seeing that Snape was about to argue again, Harry stepped closer. "No. We've been through this conversation. More than once. I'm not going to waste any more time arguing with you about this. When I come here, I'd like to come and see you."
He didn't care what people would say. Things would change, and he knew he'd have to do things he didn't want to, things that had kept him awake during long nights, all the fears and doubts that had lead him to the dungeons in the first place. The war was reality now, out there in the open, and the wizarding world would turn to their hero.
No matter how he disliked it all, he was ready to do it. He had to, because no one else would, he accepted it.
Self sacrifice, honor and bravery. Gryffindor traits he would have to live through. He knew that wanting to hold on to Snape was selfish, but he didn't give a damn. He was pretty sure he was entitled to have this one thing of his own.
Snape was quiet for a moment, marveling at the honesty in Harry's voice. It almost sounded like he believed in his words and thought he would indeed care about Snape even after the world took him away from this.
Then he nodded curtly. "Then I shall see you later." He didn't wait for a reply but simply stepped through the doorway, letting the door slam shut behind him.
Staring at the door, Harry muttered, "Yes, you shall."
The hallway was empty, and Harry let his shoulders sag for just a moment. He really didn't want to do this now. There had been meetings with the Order before; either a large amount of people gathered in Dumbledore's rooms where Harry could try to sit quietly next to Ron and Hermione, or the few weathered members of their inner circle planning and plotting.
He had always had the chance to sit and listen. Observe and learn. Now, he would have to actually use the little knowledge he had.
He rubbed his palm across his face. Even all those weeks he'd spent worrying about this day hadn't really prepared him to what this would be like, what it would feel like to stand here and know what was waiting for him.
"Damn..." Standing here wouldn't likely help either. Harry straightened himself again and then continued walking down the hallway, his steps measured.
It was actually a blessing that there were so many people in the main hallway. Most of them were standing in small groups, talking with hushed voices and completely missed seeing Harry Potter sneak into the Great Hall.
Trying not to look around in search for people who wouldn't be here, Harry walked down the central aisle of the Hall. But when the sounds around him grew louder, he couldn't help turning his gaze here and there.
There were more people here than he'd imagined. He nodded politely at those who recognized him and muttered out his name, but didn't go to talk to anyone. The Gryffindor table on his right side was almost drawing him to it, but he knew that this time, it would not be his proper place.
He kept nodding at people, his lips not co-operating with him when he tried to smile. This was strange, like he was simply walking through a dream, and he felt like he was really not here at all.
So many people. Old witches and wizards who looked too frail to be here, men and women in brightly colored robes, talking to each other and looking somber. Younger people didn't look as morose, but no one was really smiling. No one had a reason to.
There were those Harry could remember from school. A few older Gryffindors he had looked up to when he'd been only a first year. Lots of people whose names he didn't really know, but who all knew his. Then there were those he'd seen every day.
Harry froze as his gaze met an achingly familiar face. A moment later, he continued on his way towards the Head Table. Hermione hadn't noticed him. He couldn't help wondering if that was intentional.
Ignoring the buzz all around him, he kept his attention on her. She was talking quietly to Lee Jordan, both looking subdued and wan.
Lee looked up, seeing Harry and nodded slightly, his expression tired, but definitely not hostile.
It made Harry stumble a little. He'd somehow expected to see glares and blame on the faces of his former housemates. Especially Lee, who had been the best friend of Fred and George.
"Lee?"
Harry could hear Hermione's voice even from the distance. He knew what would happen next, but didn't turn away, couldn't move even if he wanted to. He simply stood there, watching as she glanced to see what had caught Lee's attention and then spun around.
The smile appearing on Hermione's lips lit up her face. She took a step forward at the same time as Dumbledore's voice called out for Harry. Still smiling, she rolled her eyes, gesturing Harry to go on and mouthed, "Talk to you later." It was definitely a promise, not a threat.
Blinking hard, Harry mouthed back, "Yeah." He had been so afraid when he'd heard nothing from her since she'd left and now she was here and it didn't look like she hated him.
He could feel his lips curl into a faint but real smile as he walked to the Head Table. Even the way people were moving out of his way, startled by Dumbledore's call, didn't make the smile disappear.
"Harry. Please sit here." Dumbledore's words were a command as he pointed at the seat next to him where their DADA professor had used to sit. Most of the professors seemed to be sitting where they always did, professor McGonagall now looking at him from her usual place at Dumbledore's right.
Grimacing a little, Harry walked around the table to take the seat that was offered.
He sat down on the surprisingly comfortable chair, staring at the table in front of him for a moment before raising his gaze again. He didn't want to say anything to Dumbledore, not feeling like he could say anything polite right now, so he looked to his left, fully expecting to see professor Sinistra there.
"Snape?" Harry stared. Why on earth was he here? A quick glance to his right gave him all the explanation he needed. The twinkle in the Headmaster's eyes told him exactly what had made Snape forgo his place at the other end of the table.
The very curt nod and the muttered, "Potter" clearly showed what Snape was thinking about all of this.
Harry turned his attention away from him, afraid that he would do something he'd regret later if he kept looking at Snape. He did however move his leg a little, so that it barely brushed against Snape's, and didn't move away when he heard the suffering sigh.
The Great Hall was filling with people. Witches and wizards from all around the country, all members of Dumbledore's silent task force. Harry had met with most of them previously, knew many by name. He'd felt it was important for him to learn.
People were talking together quietly. It looked like there were whole families here, small groups formed by wizards of all ages. Harry could now see that there were indeed many from his year, Gryffindors and Ravenclaws and Hufflepuffs gathered together. He waved at Seamus and Dean, not quite able to form a smile in greeting. Next to the familiar duo was another one and Harry had to blink to make sure he was seeing correctly. Yes, it was indeed Lavender and Parvati there, whispering together as always.
So many familiar faces. Hermione was now talking to Terry Boot, looking relieved to see him here. On the other side of the room, there was a group of a bit older wizards. Harry met with Oliver's gaze, shivering when he saw the sadness there. He had to turn his gaze away as he saw Angelina there by his side. The old Quidditch team looked so wrong without their redheaded Beaters.
Not a thing Harry wanted to think about right now, especially since the Weasley family was absent. He'd hoped at least Ron would be here, but it seemed he wouldn't come after all.
The noise level in the room was rising. It was almost the time for their meeting to begin, and everyone was starting to feel restless. They had lots of things to discuss now. The war wasn't a far away concept anymore, it had become a reality to everyone.
Harry glanced around him, feeling a bit weird sitting here at the Head Table, but he knew it was his place from now on. He wondered how alien Snape felt right now, but as usual he couldn't read anything from his face; he was looking as composed as ever.
The only ones absent were their latest DADA professor -- who had indeed suffered a nervous breakdown in May -- and professor Sinistra. He didn't know why she wasn't here. Maybe it was because she was a Slytherin. There didn't seem to be many of those here.
He didn't even have to look to know that Draco Malfoy was sitting alone at the Slytherin table. The room was full, and people had taken seats on that table as well, but no one sat close to him.
Except... Harry couldn't hide his surprise as he saw a man sit down opposite to Malfoy. It was apparent that Malfoy was as shocked as he was. He was staring with his mouth open before the shock melted into a genuine smile.
"Ah. Young Zabini," Dumbledore muttered, clearly pleased. "He is the only one from your house to refuse going home, Severus." Looking over Harry's head, he smiled at Snape.
Snape didn't say anything.
There was a small commotion at the door, and Harry turned to look what was going on. Seeing the group of people walk slowly down the aisle almost made his heart stop. His hands grasped the edge of the table, his knuckles going white. "Thank Merlin." It was a soft whisper, choked by the familiar strangled feeling.
Ron's journey towards the head of the Gryffindor table was cut by Hermione rushing to hug him. They stood there, in the middle of the room, holding each other tight. It was clear that at least Hermione was crying.
Looking determined, Arthur Weasley continued his way across the floor, nodding absentmindedly at people who offered their condolences with hushed voices. Right behind him came Bill and George, both looking as grim as their father.
Harry couldn't believe his eyes. He couldn't stop staring at the Weasleys, a lump forming in his throat as he saw Percy stepping into the room, hiding at the back.
His eyes were blurring with unshed tears. Rooted at his seat, he tried to breathe evenly.
"Go to them." Dumbledore's hushed voice came from his right. "We still have some time before we'll start the meeting."
Not bothering to even glance at the Headmaster, Harry pushed his chair back and then walked slowly around the table. He couldn't hurry, not now.
Arthur Weasley's grave nod made one of the tears slip down his cheek. Others followed as Bill offered him his hand without words. By the time George patted his back, Harry couldn't really see anything.
Then Ron and Hermione were there, both holding him tight.
This was the absolutely worst time and place for this but Harry didn't give a damn, holding his friends tighter. Ron was standing awfully still, his eyes bright but he was not crying. Hermione's soft sniffles were the only sound in his world.
Harry wished he could just stay here for the rest of the day; to revel in this moment of shared grief and friendship and forget all about the war. Squeezing his friends one last time, he let go. He couldn't do this now.
Voldemort had made this decision easy. No matter how he hated this, hated the war and his role in the Order, he couldn't even imagine doing anything else but fight right now. It wouldn't matter where he went; these people would still be in danger. They would fight and they would die, and he was determined to be right here by their side when they did.
He pulled back, slowly. Wiping his face, he took a deep breath. "You'd better find seats." His voice sounded too deep even in his own ears.
"Sure." Ron nodded. His expression was calm, no tears on his face. He guided Hermione to sit next to him and his brothers at the Gryffindor table.
Harry walked back to his place at the Head Table, his mind strangely clear.
The silence that had fallen when Harry had walked to greet the Weasleys continued as people all waited for their leader to start the meeting.
"Welcome." Rising to his feet slowly, Dumbledore greeted his Order. "Welcome all."
The familiarity of those words made Harry almost wince. They had been the beginning of everything good for as long as he could really remember. 'Welcome all to another year at Hogwarts.' A warm phrase that had brought him back home for seven years.
People murmured their greetings back, the room echoing with the polite words.
Dumbledore waited until the last sound died before grabbing a glass that had appeared in front of him a moment earlier. "First, I would like to raise my glass for those who have already fought in a war that should never have started." He lifted the glass up. "And to those who have fallen."
Hearing only the humming sound in his head as people everywhere raised their glasses, Harry followed suite. He didn't taste the liquid in his glass, couldn't say if it was pumpkin juice or something else. His grip on the glass was so tight he was stunned it didn't shatter.
He listened half heartedly as the Headmaster continued with his speech. The encouraging phrases were familiar to him, as were the plans.
The Order was gathering here for the first time, but it would also be the only time they would all be called to Hogwarts. No matter how good a stronghold it was, the castle was now and would always be mainly a school. A place of education where generations of wizards and witches had lived their teenage years.
Hogsmeade, the small village that existed mostly to cater the students and the wizards who were passing through and needed to spend time with something familiar, would become the heart of their Order. Though he shouldn't be, Harry was slightly surprised to hear that there were already plans for their new headquarters, and that they would soon be able to gather in Hogsmeade. When he'd been enjoying his last free days, it seemed that the Headmaster had been quite busy planning.
Or maybe the plans had always been there, and he just hadn't looked hard enough to see them.
Dumbledore's speech was long and winding, but for the first time, there were no silly anecdotes or humorous phrases. He simply stated facts, outlining the plans.
It was probably the one thing keeping everyone silent and staring. The Headmaster guiding his flock had disappeared somewhere, and Harry for one could well see how this wizard on his right had been able to battle against more than one Dark Lord.
He simply wished this were enough, knowing it wouldn't be. The churning feeling in his stomach only intensified as Dumbledore seemed to come to the end of his speech.
"Now that the war is upon us, you are all needed. No one's effort is too small." Dumbledore looked around the room, his gaze serious. "Those who can, should stay close to Hogsmeade. Others should make sure your floo works well, but don't forget to put up wards to your fireplace!"
Some people were actually scribbling down notes, making sure they didn't miss any advice. Harry knew he shouldn't have been surprised, but the sight of quills scratching on parchment was somehow absurd.
This was not a class. This was more real than that.
After Dumbledore finished with his speech, some of the older members of the Order took a stand in front of the crowd and gave short reports of the situation with the Death Eaters.
Harry didn't listen to that either. He already knew what was going on, and couldn't concentrate on anything right now. All that mattered was the fact that sooner or later he would have to stand up as well, the mere thought of that making his palms sweat. As Arabella Figg sat down after her short speech, he knew the time was finally here.
There was a moment of excited babbling all around the room. People whispering plans and making decisions.
Waiting for the silence to land again, Dumbledore turned to Harry. Keeping his voice quiet, he said, "You will be staying in Hogsmeade to train them. I believe now would be a good time to say something to your troops." It didn't seem like the slip was accidental.
Until now, it had always been Dumbledore's Order, his small army. It would still be called that, but he would not be the one leading it into the fight.
Harry wasn't surprised. He didn't feel anything as he slowly stood up.
His actions silenced the room better than any charm could have. People were staring at him, waiting for him to say something.
Feeling slightly nauseous, he looked at Ron and Hermione. Then his gaze moved to Arthur Weasley. "People have fought against Voldemort," there were a few gasps in the room at the name, mostly from those who had joined the Order recently, "for a long time. My parents died fighting him. My friends have died fighting him. It's quite probable that many of us will too. But we will not stand back and let him rule our world."
A few cheers. Applauds. They went on for a surprisingly long time.
Harry didn't know why would anyone cheer at that. He'd just said they would die, and people cheered. It was incomprehensible. After the noise died, he went on. "There is a lot of work waiting for us." More than most people could see. They were a big group of dedicated people, but they'd have to learn how to actually work together.
He kept his gaze away from the Slytherin table and the empty benches around Malfoy and Zabini.
There was an absolute silence in the room.
"We have fought and we have died for decades. Many people remember the first time Voldemort came to power and I've heard that most of you call this the second war against the Dark Lord." Harry nodded at the younger people. "Let's make damn sure there will not be a third one."
With that he sat down, squeezing his sweaty hands together. He'd said all that he wanted to, like in a Quidditch strategy meeting, feeling just as nervous and wondering if anything he'd said made any sense at all.
Unlike in those meetings, where people just nodded and went to work, there was a continuing silence that suddenly ended with loud catcalls and applauds. Some people stood up to cheer, and others quickly followed suit. In a few minutes the Great Hall was back in similar chaos as it had been when they'd started the meeting.
Harry glanced at Dumbledore, waiting for him to restore the order. Seeing the old man just sit there with a benign smile on his lips, he shook his head. If Dumbledore expected him to try to control the crowd now, he would be sorely disappointed. He didn't have anything else to say.
Since everyone was milling around already, Harry stood up. "I do believe our meeting is over." He didn't even try to moderate the sarcasm in his voice.
He stepped away from his chair, squeezing his hand into a fist so that he wouldn't brush it against Snape's back as he passed him by. Then he headed to the crowd, seeking for his friends.
Snape saw the way Harry was immediately surrounded by former Gryffindors. He sat there a moment longer, experiencing a very annoying surge of hesitation and something that tasted awfully like regret.
When the first redhead approached Harry, Snape decided it was time to go. Harry had the Weasleys and either they or Draco Malfoy would make sure he got home safely. There would be family waiting there, Black and Lupin undoubtedly all settled in already. He wasn't needed anymore.
He got up and walked out of the Great Hall, ignoring the very knowing glance Albus cast at him.
Down amongst the Order, Harry experienced a moment of panic as people closed in on him. He stood his ground, offering everyone a nod once again. The faint smile that flickered on his lips as Lavender rushed to hug him was real, showing genuine amusement.
Following Lavender came Parvati, who settled for just grining at him, as did her sister. It was kind of confusing, considering how neither of them had been really friendly with him since the ill fated Yule ball over three years ago.
It was strange, but having to actually form coherent sentences -- even ones filled with all kinds of platitudes -- pulled Harry's attention to the here and now, chasing away the feeling of unreality.
He couldn't pinpoint what exactly what had snapped him back to himself, but he definitely knew when he noticed just how much strength he needed to do this.
When a blur of black robes caught his attention.
Watching Snape leave the room quietly, Harry wanted nothing more than to run after him, to say goodbye once again, to hug him. It would make this even more difficult, but he still took a step towards the side door.
Then the crowd enveloped him, and the moment was gone.
Everyone seemed to want to say something to him. Congratulations, condolences, just a stuttered greeting from Blaise Zabini. Most older people wanted to shake his hand, while some of the younger women wrapped their arms around him.
It was slightly unpleasant and awfully crowding, but Harry allowed it. He disentangled from the witches with a few kind words and then went on to the next person needing to have a moment or two with their hero.
"Good to have you back!" Boot exclaimed, shaking Harry's hand vigorously.
Harry nodded, forcing the lie out automatically, "Good to be back." It wasn't. Especially right now.
"Yeah."
The slightly hesitant sound made Harry turn away from Terry Boot. He looked at Ron, suddenly unable to think about anything to say. "Ron." Well, at least he got his name right.
"Harry. I heard you have a great big house in Hogsmeade." It was said with almost a too casual voice, as if Ron didn't really know what to say either.
Nodding, Harry said, "Yes. A great big house." Huge. With lots of space. Lots and lots of space. He had an idea where this was going, and couldn't hide his relief.
Ron shoved his hands into his pockets. "So... It's okay with you if I.... You know? Stay with you? I mean if you have some room to spare."
"Yes!" Harry smiled. It was more than okay. "You know it is. I do. You know?"
They both grinned.
"Don't do anything stupid then, little brother." Cuffing the side of Ron's head, Bill Weasley stepped closer. He didn't look at Harry, keeping his attention on something at the back of the room.
It hurt, especially since there had been a moment two years ago when they had fought side by side, ignoring things like age and experience, both trying to survive and keep the other one alive. Harry glanced at Mr. Weasley, wondering if he'd be as distant as his oldest son.
"Harry! Good to see you." There was no sign of false cheer in Arthur Weasley. "I see my son has already managed to pester you about housing. We have a place to stay, but if you do have the room for him..."
Harry hurried to assure him. "Yes. There's plenty of room for Ron." He didn't want to talk about things like rooms and rent with Mr. Weasley. "For anyone, really."
"Good." Nodding absentmindedly, Arthur stepped next to Bill, his gaze focusing at the back of the room as well. He looked worried. "Good... All right then. Ronald, you have your trunk ready?"
"Yes, dad!" By the suffering sigh, it wasn't the first time Ron's father had asked that. With a last grin at Harry, Ron rushed to get his things.
A few older wizards came to shake Harry's hand, making Harry feel extremely uncomfortable. He didn't want to do this, not in front of the Weasleys to whom he would probably never again look like a hero. It was absurd how that could hurt so much even when he wanted nothing more than to leave that title behind.
As the crowd thinned again, he turned his attention back to Mr. Weasley, opening his mouth to assure him that Ron would be safe with him.
None of the words came out. Mr. Weasley and Bill were both staring over his head towards the doorway, both looking slightly alarmed now.
Harry swallowed and slowly craned his neck to see what had caught their attention.
At first, he couldn't see anything special, just people milling around. Then he shivered as his gaze met with an intense stare that threw daggers at him through the distance.
"Oh no..." There was nothing else he could really say as he saw Percy Weasley there. Unlike the rest of his family, he'd stayed near the doorway the whole time, standing there wrapped in a heavy outer robe.
Percy's expression was full of insane hatred. He stared at Harry for a moment and then turned around, walking out of the room.
It felt like a slap in the face. Harry swallowed hard. A part of him felt like he really did deserve that, the part that would probably forever blame himself for every single death in this absurd war.
"Harry, we..." Arthur looked from the doorway to his son. "He doesn't really know what he is doing." His glance sent Bill after his brother. "I'm sorry."
"No! I'm sorry." Shaking his head, Harry said, "I don't blame him for not wanting to be in the same room with me. Or for blaming me for everything that happened." Why wouldn't he?
Arthur sighed. He couldn't say Harry was wrong. "I'll go and tell Ron we're leaving." At the questioning look, he added, "We really must go now. Just remember that we will be here whenever you need us." It was a promise he intended to keep. Even if he had to resign from his position in the Ministry, he would be here to make sure that the men who had killed his son would pay for their crimes.
It was really hard for Harry to keep a neutral face at that. He finally managed a nod.
"Good bye, Harry Potter." Arthur turned away, walking quickly to the small group next to the door.
Harry followed him with his gaze, feeling completely drained. He saw Mr. Weasley whisper something to Ron before turning to George, who was chatting with Lee Jordan. He noticed there was a stunned expression on Lee's face as he stared at George and wondered what that was about.
He didn't really want to know. There were so many things he had to concentrate on already.
The Order was slowly leaving. Harry looked up at the ceiling that was for once charmed to look like an ordinary ceiling with its rafters and took a deep breath. Somehow it had felt as if there wasn't quite enough air in the room with the crowd here.
"Are you ready to go?"
Not even jumping at Ron's question, Harry smiled. "Yeah." It would be good to be away from the multitudes of people. The house would be quiet, he hoped. At least he could go to his room and lock the door and know that no one would bother him. Sirius and Remus would respect his privacy, and Malfoy...
He groaned, "Oh, crap." How the hell could he have forgotten Malfoy?
Ron stopped fidgeting with his shrunken trunk at the sound of Harry's voice. "What?" He had a bad feeling about this.
"Ron... About my house." The word still made Harry grimace. His house.
"Yes?" Ron cocked his head. He wondered what the slightly annoyed expression was about. It was definitely a good thing to own a house in Hogsmeade. A real house! His father had told him all about it. A few blocks from Honeydukes, in the older -- more respected -- part of the town.
"Like I said, you know you are welcome to stay. But... There are already people living there with me. Remus and Sirius have a room downstairs." Not that it would matter. They all liked the older men.
Ron let out a grin. "I don't mind." Once he'd got over the gawking, he'd really started to enjoy Sirius' presence. The man knew more dirty jokes than anyone.
They could live together. Hell, they should ask Hermione to live with them too. Five Gryffindors under the same roof? No problem. He'd lived with worse, much worse. Hopefully, they'd even have a house elf or two so that they wouldn't have to waste time on stupid chores.
"Ron." Not knowing any way to make it easier, Harry drew a deep breath. "I have a lot of room. So I offered... I offered Draco Malfoy a place to stay."
He cringed at the sudden silence that fell.
Not sure he'd heard right, Ron stared at his friend. There was worry in Harry's eyes, as well as guilt. So he had heard right. Malfoy. Living with Malfoy. It had to be a joke. Had to be. "Very funny," he said calmly. "For a moment there I thought you said you're living with Malfoy."
Harry could only nod. He knew words wouldn't be needed.
After a moment, Ron raised his hand to push his hair back from his forehead, the movement half hearted. "Oh, fuck!"
"I know you hate him, so if it's a problem..." Seeing the strangely empty stare, Harry's voice faded away. He cleared his throat. "I'm sorry, Ron, but it's his home now as well." He couldn't throw Malfoy out even if he wanted to.
"Whose home?" Walking quietly to her friends, Hermione blinked as her question made both of them startle. "Oh, and Harry. Do you mind if I stay with you as well? Terry said you have a big house in Hogsmeade."
Ron let out a choking sound.
Part 13 Seeing the house made Ron's mouth fall open.
He hadn't said a word since they left Hogwarts, settling for following Harry and Hermione, listening to their chattering absentmindedly. The new house, Hermione's parents' reaction to her staying with Harry and the others, Remus and Sirius sharing a room downstairs, whatever. It didn't register until the moment they actually stopped in front of the enormous building.
The honest astonishment pierced his consciousness like a knife "This is where you... we live?" It was an old two storey house, just like their little hideaway cottage had been. The similarities ended there. Where the cottage had been small and somewhat shabby, this was almost like a miniature manor.
"Yes. Our little palace." There was a hint of unhappy disbelief in Harry's voice. It would definitely take some time for him to get used to such a place.
He knew he should share Ron's delight and wonder. His own house; a place he could really call home and no one would be able to take it away from him. People he loved, Sirius and Remus and Ron and Hermione. He didn't mind Malfoy's presence. At least with the six of them living together, the place would be filled with sounds of life. It wouldn't be an empty and hollow shell.
It felt really stupid to want more; to resent leaving the dungeons behind. Harry didn't want to be greedy, for there had been a time when he'd had nothing at all. Compared to those years, this was the best thing he could have, and maybe it was selfish to want everything when he already had so much.
Ron blinked. The place was huge. He couldn't believe he was actually going to live there. "Wicked!" It came out quietly, as a formality he had to say. The brief moment of real excitement was already fading into the grey mist.
There were lights on in most of the windows. Sirius was waiting at the hall, standing half hidden by the door, smiling at all three. "Remus is in the living room." He lowered his voice. "He refused to go to bed until you all got home safely." He didn't seem at all surprised to see both Hermione and Ron there.
"Whatever he's telling you, he's lying!" Came the yell from the living room.
Smiling, Harry let Sirius pull him into a brief hug. "Glad you both made it here safely."
"We did." Sirius nodded and then stepped out of the way as Hermione and Ron tried to find a place to leave their shoes in. He fidgeted a little before adding, "The room is great."
Harry smiled slightly. "I thought you and Remus might like it." No matter what was going on in Sirius' head, he wasn't going to pretend those two would need separate rooms. Before there could be any awkward words -- or worse yet, an awkward silence -- he made a gesture at Ron and Hermione. "Come on, let's get you two settled in."
It took a while to tour his friends around the ground floor, both Ron and Hermione making appropriate sounds of awe and Harry managing even a few genuine smiles. The familiar people here were already taking away some of his resentment over what he still considered a ridiculous gesture from the Order.
Hermione was more than happy to stay in the empty room downstairs, casting pleased looks at the large bathroom nextdoors. "This will do just fine!" She put her trunk on the floor before anyone could object.
"Feel free to use the bathroom upstairs if you need to," Harry muttered to Sirius. No matter how smart and balanced Hermione was, she was still a girl, and sometimes it seemed that every girl had a weird attachment to the toilet they used.
Myrtle wasn't the only one who liked to spend forever in the loo.
"Thanks." Planting his hand on Harry's shoulder, Sirius leaned a little closer. "We will."
By mutual agreement, all five Gryffindors stayed downstairs. Harry went through the kitchen cupboards to get them some late dinner.
Swallowing a mouthful of tea, Harry muttered, "So... Malfoy's upstairs then?" He'd already seen the familiar looking shoes in the hallway, but since there was no other trace of him, he had to ask. Ignoring Ron's snort, he kept his eyes on Sirius.
"Yup. He's upstairs." Sirius had been too busy watching the door for Harry to really concentrate on Malfoy; especially since the Slytherin had barely greeted him and Remus before slinking up the stairs.
Harry nodded. "Okay." Refusing to acknowledge the tension practically oozing from Ron, he didn't ask more about Malfoy.
He waited for Sirius to usher Remus to rest and Hermione to disappear into the bathroom before turning back to Ron. "About Malfoy..."
There was a blank look on Ron's face, but he looked so tense Harry was sure he would snap any moment now. Ron took a step back, as if putting distance between him and the whole thing.
Even though Harry's first reaction was to let Ron back away and drop the matter, he couldn't. They had to try to make this work, and the only way to do that was to deal with things. Hiding wasn't an option.
Holding his hand on Ron's arm lightly, he said, "Don't. I spoke with him earlier, and he promised me he's not coming after you. He won't even talk to you unless you talk to him first." He remembered the look in Malfoy's eyes as he'd said that and for the first time, he trusted the Slytherin completely.
"I am not afraid of Draco Malfoy." Ron could feel nothing as he said the words out, not even anger. His chest felt tight, cold. He was not afraid of anything.
Harry looked at him curiously, wondering what the tone was about. He felt a bit strange around Ron, as if Ron was somewhere far away. It had made him feel silly on their way from Hogwarts, his thoughts probably due to an overly active imagination. But it had never been as obvious as now.
He'd thought Ron would be angry. Mad. But he wasn't; he was indifferent. It was crazy.
Maybe it was Ron's way of dealing with everything. Harry shrugged. "Okay. Let me show you to your room then."
Even though there were two vacant rooms upstairs, Harry had no intention of even suggesting that Ron take the one next to Malfoy's. The farther those two stayed from each other the better, and maybe he should have suggested that Ron stayed downstairs with Sirius and Remus. Too late to do that now; Hermione was already settling in and bringing the whole thing up would just make things so much worse.
He watched Ron's face glow with a silly grin as he showed him the large bedroom that would be his. It made him feel slightly better, like maybe now things would get back to normal.
Saying good night to Ron who was still so amazed by his new lodgings that he couldn't really do more than grin some more brought a wan smile to his lips, but a moment later it was chased away by a yawn.
Too tired to really even think, Harry walked into his own room. He wished they could have connected to the floo network as well, so he could go to the fireplace and contact Snape. Just to talk to him, to tell him he was all right.
He was still a bit miffed by the trouble they had to go through every time they needed to talk to someone in Hogwarts, but he knew that open floos would be too dangerous. The people in Hogsmeade were being awfully nice about the whole thing. No one had complained about the shutdown, at least so that he'd hear.
It made everyone's life difficult from now on, he knew that, but he couldn't really concentrate on that now. All he knew was that he would really miss Snape.
Scratching his head, he went to grab his toiletries from his trunk.
Ron had almost a heart attack as he stepped into the bedroom that would now be his. All his. It was huge! Enormous. And the bed was about twice the size the one he'd had in the dormitory.
It was weird to think that he was really going to live here all by himself. His own place.
Grinning, he put his bags on the floor. With a muffled yelp of glee, he rushed to the bed and bounced on it a few times.
This was so great! So damn great! Cool! Wonderful! Excellent! Wicked! Bloody brilliant! He lay on his bed, the grin on his face hurting his jaws, hands squeezed into fists.
He didn't want to think about anything but the house right now. His room, his bed. His life that was looking really good right now. There was nothing wrong with it. Nothing at all.
He'd survived this far with no thoughts about anything unpleasant.
It was late, and he'd been up since dawn, but he didn't feel like going to bed yet. His mind was too full of thoughts, scattering around aimlessly, all screaming for his attention and yet all escaping as soon as he tried to focus on any. He knew he'd just toss and turn if he tried to sleep now.
Ron got up and padded to his trunk. It was probably best if he at least tried to put all his stuff into the wardrobe. He unpacked in silence. Shoved the once again shrunk trunk on the back of a shelf and then closed the wardrobe.
He was still not tired. Didn't feel like taking a shower either, fearing that he'd wake someone up if he started to run water at this hour. Wasn't the room where Sirius and professor Lupin lived right below the bathroom? He couldn't really remember, and didn't want to find out by disturbing them.
Maybe he should go and get a snack. For a brief moment he wondered if he should ask Harry's permission first. Then he shrugged the thought off. Harry had said it was his home too.
Determined not to feel all weird in this very large and probably very expensive house, Ron slipped into the corridor.
It was dark there, and Ron muttered softly, "Lumos."
He looked around, still a bit disoriented. The cottage had been so damn tiny compared to this. Spotting the staircase, he took a step towards it and then froze. He didn't feel hungry after all.
The door to Harry's room was closed, so he didn't think he should go there. His friend had looked awfully tired when they'd come home earlier. Tired and sad. He definitely didn't want to think about that right now.
One of the other doorways was open, leading into an empty room. Sneaking around in silence, Ron went to investigate. It was another bedroom, almost as lavishly decorated as his was.
This place was really insane. Had the Order really bought this just for Harry? What on earth had they been thinking; that he'd live here all alone? It made him shudder. He wouldn't want a place like this just for himself. It would be too much, too overwhelming.
Alienating.
Leaving the empty room, Ron returned to the hallway.
There was one more door; one that was firmly shut. It was somehow mocking him, the wooden frames shaking with silent laughter. He didn't know why it seemed like that, but the door leading to the second bedroom back at the cottage had looked the same.
Ron tried to push the thought away, not really succeeding in it. This was something he had never been able to ignore.
He knew exactly who would be there. Hiding. Harry had said he would not harass him, would not even talk to him unless he wanted him to.
He definitely didn't want that. Never wanted to see Malfoy again, never wanted to hear his voice. Felt almost sick thinking that he would once again have to share the house with him. Wished Malfoy were continents away.
Moving without a thought, he stepped closer to that door.
Anger was a strange thing. It could fill you until you burned, radiated the madness of the rage. It was an all consuming emotion that fed from all the others.
Malfoy.
Ron hated him with everything he was. Hated the sneer, hated the laughter. Hated even the way he had looked like in the cottage those last days, when he'd almost seemed sorry for what he'd done. Hated the brittle pride on his face when he sat there in the Great Hall, the heir of Malfoy all alone.
He took another step towards the closed door.
There had never been anyone else he could hate as much as he hated Malfoy. There would never be anyone.
Malfoy. The name itself made him grimace with disgust.
All those years suffering from Malfoy's taunts and cruel tricks. All those weeks watching him play his sick game.
Games and tricks, that was all he was. Everything about him was rodden. Foul. He and his kind would do nothing but destroy everything they touched.
Ron didn't want to see that. Hated the mere idea of having to watch another game. Maybe the git would live here, but he wasn't going to talk to him ever again. Wouldn't even want to be in the same room with him or see him.
"Alohomora." Barely registering his own voice, Ron stared as the door opened in front of him.
He had no idea what he was doing. Malfoy was the last person he wanted to see, and yet here he was, walking into his room. He wondered if he was cursed somehow, under the imperius, for he couldn't stop.
Draco looked up from the book he'd been reading, his wand ready. He'd been expecting for something like this, but seeing Weasley was still something akin to shock. Especially when there was such a strange expression on his face. Not anger or hatred. Nothing.
He had given Potter his word to stay away from Weasley, and he'd intended to keep his word no matter what, even if it meant he stayed in his room for the time being. At least that had been his excuse to stay here for the evening. It wasn't because he didn't want to face professor Lupin whose secret he'd once spread around the school or Sirius Black who seemed like a normal person until you looked into his eyes.
The day had already been full of tension and surprises with Blaise's grinning face greeting him across the table and Dumbledore clearly bringing Harry to the limelight, but this was something he couldn't just watch. Staying in shadows wasn't an option here.
"Weasley."
The word sounded loud in Ron's ears, even though it was muttered quietly. Ron could only stare. His wand was back under his robes, and he could see Malfoy put his down on the small table.
So now he wasn't even worth being afraid of. He wanted to laugh, but couldn't.
His lips moved slowly, as if not sure of how to form the word. "Malfoy." He felt like he was in a dream, under water.
It was such a familiar feeling.
For days now, it had been a constant companion; muffling everything real. The only thing keeping him whole, keeping him from falling apart.
Surrounding himself in a calm shell that didn't let anything past it, Ron had lived through hell. Stayed by Charlie's bedside when Bill had fallen asleep after his attempts to break the last curses. Made sandwiches for Ginny when his mother had been too exhausted to cook. Listened to George's feeble jokes as if they were indeed funny.
He had never faltered, never let go of what he used to be. His world had fallen apart in one single moment, but he refused to let go of the shards, knowing he would crumble into nothing if he did.
It was now suddenly like walking on thin ice. The shell cracking, the unnamed, unbearable choking emotion fighting to get out, oozing through the cracks like some kind of a dark creature, almost suffocating him.
Putting the book down, Draco stood up. He had no idea why Weasley would be here, had no idea what to say to him. Not only did he feel bound by his promise to Potter, but the guilt over what his father had done had all but drowned the desire to make nasty comments or the even simpler desire for Weasley's body.
He simply waited for Weasley to say something, prepared to face any accusations he might want to make.
The taste of bile rising to his mouth, Ron stared at Malfoy. He hated the hesitation, the completely blank look on him. The familiar sneer would have been so much easier to face.
Draco didn't say anything. He simply stood there.
A soft growl escaped Ron. He didn't know what to do. He hated everything so much right now and nothing was right in the world. Everything had turned into ashes, and he needed a lifeline, something he could depend on.
He didn't even have to think about it. His hand was already squeezing into a fist. It wasn't at all difficult to swing it.
The sound of his knuckles hitting Malfoy's chin was surprisingly loud in the small room. A dull ache spread over his hand, but he couldn't really feel it. His world was a whirlwind of chaos and pain deeper than that of the flesh.
There was no anger in Draco's eyes. He raised his fingers to touch his bruised mouth before nodding slightly. Then he slammed his own fist into Ron's face. No guilt could stop that, after all, he had a promise to keep.
A rivulet of blood ran down from the corner of Ron's mouth.
"You hit me?" Ron didn't really recognize his own voice. How could he sound so damn fragile? He repeated, "You hit me," unable to know if it was a question or a plea.
"Yes." Draco nodded.
There was a moment of silence. Then a soft whisper, "I hate you."
"Yes."
Later on, neither of them could tell which one had taken the first step. Suddenly, Ron was holding the front of Malfoy's robes in his fists and Draco's fingers were buried in his hair. Pulling each other close, they met in a kiss that was nothing like a gentle caress.
Ron was completely lost with his world falling apart, and this burning sensation was the only glimpse of reality he could find. Nothing felt like this, not the sad atmosphere back home, not the solemn Order meeting. Not his friends. Muttering, "Fuck!" as his knees gave in, he pulled Malfoy down to the floor with him.
He felt his robes tear, but didn't care. Instead he took a good hold on Malfoy's robes and returned the favor. The hands on his body were moving softly, gently but he wanted none of that. Squeezing Malfoy's arms so hard it had to hurt, he pulled him closer to a violent, bruising kiss.
"Weasley..." Draco growled. He lifted his head a little to look into his eyes, stunned by what he saw there.
Rage and fear mingled with desperate need. It was more than lust or desire. Those could easily be denied. Not this. He kissed Weasley again, possessing his mouth. He could taste a hint of something sweet like strawberry jam, tea and then blood as he nipped his lips.
The sound escaping Ron was hoarse.
He clawed at Malfoy's robes, his fingers grasping the expensive material and ripping it. Feeling elated at the thought of distroying something that had probably cost more than all the clothes he'd ever owned together, he reached out again. Then he was lost, feeling only warm skin under his touch.
Ignoring the sounds of tearing cloth, Draco pushed at Weasley, rolling him on his back. Mouth still on his, he started to push his robes off. When after minutes of struggle he was still clothed, he decided that for once, Weasley had made a good decision and tore the robes off as well.
Bits of black cloth flew across the room as both tried to get rid of the robes, tearing into fabric and skin alike. Draco was more familiar with this kind of foreplay and he didn't even try to get Weasley naked. No need for that now. As long as there was plenty of naked skin for him to play with and certain body parts at hand, he was happy.
"Oh.... fuck..." Thumping his head against the floor, Ron closed his eyes as those damn clever fingers wormed inside his trousers, grasping him in a firm grip.
The sound coming from Malfoy closely resembled laughter. Eyes snapping open, Ron could see wonder on his face. It almost made him want to punch him again. Instead of letting the rage rule over the desperate lust, he simply ripped Malfoy's tailored trousers into shreds.
It was complete madness, everything else fading away as the hunger grew inside him. He didn't flinch back as he felt Malfoy's hard prick, curling his fingers around it. It felt strangely alien and familiar at the same time, hot and hard, alive in his hand.
Ron could feel Malfoy's hand move on him, the slow tight grip making his hips roll upwards. He couldn't do anything but lie here, burying himself into that touch.
Lips touched his again. Softly, then with force. He could feel teeth nipping him again, and he groaned into that mix of pain and pleasure.
Everything was like that. So awful. So glorious. Ron couldn't focus on anything but Malfoy's touch, his own arms moving to wrap around Malfoy's back, fingers clawing at the soft skin.
The frantic touches were answered by others. Letting go of his prick after one last squeeze, Malfoy kept kissing his lips, his jaw, nipping the side of his throat. The loss of touch made Ron gasp out curses, but the way Malfoy was so clearly moving back towards what really mattered made him silent again.
Torn cloth got in Draco's way, but he didn't care. He let his lips and fingers brush against every bit of naked skin he could reach as he slithered down Weasley's body.
There were red marks forming on Ron's chest, small wounds from scraping fingernails, bruises that were shaped like handprints. Malfoy let his gaze slide over those marks to meet Ron's glazed eyes. Slowly, he lowered his head to take his prick into his mouth.
Ron closed his eyes, banging his head back against the floor again. This was familiar, the wet heat surrounding him.
He'd be glad to drown there. Without even thinking what he was doing, he grabbed those sweaty strands of blond hair and guided Malfoy to take him in deeper.
The world was such a simple place, existing only in lips that moved up and down his prick. There was nothing else, no thoughts, no touches. So hot, soft, the tongue twirling against his skin, making him let out soft whimpers that vanished into the nothingness surrounding him.
Lifting his hips, Ron tightened his hold on Malfoy's hair. It wasn't enough. The slow steady rhythm was making him lose his mind. He needed more, needed it now, and his fingers hurt from holding Malfoy's hair so hard.
The fingers playing on the base of his prick, cupping his balls, moved to touch him higher, disappearing into Malfoy's mouth alongside his hardness. Ron didn't have time to even wonder what they were doing before they were moving again, down this time.
His eyes opened wide at the first hesitant touch. The moan escaping him came out without words, even though his mind yelled 'No!' The hesitation lasted only for a moment. Then the touch firmed, pressed against him harder and slipped in.
Ron panted out his breaths, completely shocked. Malfoy was pushing a finger up his arse? The touch moved away and then returned. Oh, fuck, yes he was.
The touch sent shivers up his spine. His mind was screaming that it was wrong, degrading, and he shouldn't let Malfoy do anything like that. It was taking something away from him, leaving him utterly empty.
Draco planted a few kisses on Weasley's thigh as he heard a keening wail echo in the room. He paused for a moment and then bit down on the place he'd kissed, enjoying the way Weasley made another desperate sound. It didn't sound anything like the word stop. Or no.
He didn't know if this was lust or desperation or insanity, and quite frankly, he didn't care. Not right now.
Biting Weasley's inner thigh again, he pushed another saliva coated finger in. It didn't matter that the grip on his hair tightened even more. They both needed this.
Ron squirmed, not knowing if he was trying to escape or invite Malfoy in deeper. The mouth that was nibbling its way back to his groin was maddeningly clever, agonizingly slow on its journey. He wanted to thrust back into that wet cavern, at the same time needing to move against the invading touch that was stretching and even painful, especially when it moved. Just. Like. That.
He groaned when the pain lanced through him again. It was insane, his whole body was on fire with a mixture of pain and pleasure, but he reveled in the sensations, 'cause he could feel. He even welcomed the agony.
Some small part of his mind was screaming at him, ordering him to stop this right now. He didn't want this. Didn't want to do this with Malfoy of all people. He couldn't stop even if he wanted to.
When Malfoy slithered back up his body, he knew what would come. He reveled in the thought even though it froze him. It was wrong and disgusting, but he couldn't help craving that; to be so completely possessed by someone.
He looked up at Malfoy, wishing he could see the usual sneer instead of the rather hazy look in the grey eyes. "Malfoy..." Moving out of control now, he spread his legs and pulled him closer. He hated himself for it, but would hate Malfoy even more when this was all over.
Draco felt the strong thighs squeeze him tight and thrust against Weasley. He didn't know what he expected from him, but wasn't about to do anything but what he was already doing. He was tempted, sorely tempted, but Potter -- not to mention his godfather, Remus Lupin, Granger, all the older Weasleys and probably Snape as well -- would kill him if he took such advantage of him now.
And damn it all, he would do it right now. He'd push Weasley's legs even wider and then sink into that tightness. He would claim him and shag him until he screamed. If only Weasley would ask him with plain words and he had lubricant or even some hand cream potion. If only he wasn't about to come in a few seconds anyway.
"Yes..." Thrusting again, he grabbed a hold on Weasley's hair and yanked his head back. Keeping the grip tight, he lowered his head to kiss his throat. Then he bit down. Hard.
Howling, Ron arched into the bite. He couldn't stop the noises escaping him as Malfoy bit him again, rubbing his prick against his. Fingernails leaving bloody trails on Malfoy's back, he pushed up, trying to get as close to him as possible.
Another bite on the soft side of his throat and Ron convulsed, coming hard. He didn't scream, only strangled whimpers escaped him.
He lay there, completely still. He barely even registered the way Malfoy thrust against him. World was once again blurring around the edges, almost as if he was drifting away. Far away again.
"Oh, fuck, Weasley." Groaning the name out, Draco came. Riding the waves of ecstacy, he held onto the redhead, mumbling incoherent words. Still breathing hard, he slumped on Ron, planting a soft kiss on the reddened skin of his throat.
That gentle touch brought the world crashing down on Ron.
He lay still for a moment, cringing as Malfoy's exhales tickled his neck. For the first time, he really registered the hardness of the floor beneath him and the warmth on top of him. The cooling wetness squashed between him and Malfoy, the bare, sweaty skin against his.
Rolling over, he shoved Malfoy away from him. This couldn't be real! He couldn't have! There was no fucking way in hell he could have done this right now!
"What is it?" The post orgasmic lassitude was already spreading through Draco, and the way he'd been rudely dumped on his arse was a very unwelcome awakening. "Are you all right, Weasley?"
The way Malfoy was actually nice made Ron gag. He couldn't say anything, for the only answer to the question would be no. It would probably come out as a scream.
He scrambled to his feet, not able to take his gaze away from Malfoy. The remains of his robes fell on the floor, but he didn't care. He saw the way Malfoy was about to say something else and turned around and ran.
Stumbling out of the room, Ron looked around the hallway like a wild animal in panic. He needed to run somewhere, needed to escape. Nothing else mattered.
"Ron?" Harry asked, peeking from his room. He'd heard the noise coming from Malfoy's room and wondered if he'd heard correctly.
He didn't have to wonder now as he saw Ron stagger to the hallway half naked.
It was shocking to realize that his friend had actually shagged Malfoy now, after all the fighting. After what Malfoy's father had done to his family. Seeing the lost expression on Ron's face made Harry shiver. He'd never seen him like this. "Hey, Ron? Is everything all right?"
The only answer he got was a broken sob. Ron looked like he was going to collapse any moment. As Harry took a hesitant step forward, he sank down on the floor, crawling down the hall on his hands and knees as if unable to stop.
Harry followed Ron, kneeling next to him and holding him tight as he started to cry. He could feel the cold clamminess of Ron's skin, the scent of sex and sweat almost overpowering him. It didn't matter. This was the first time he'd seen Ron show such naked emotion and he couldn't help wondering if he'd allowed himself to cry after they'd come back from the cottage.
He was certain Ron couldn't even hear the questions he murmured out quietly, but it didn't matter. Grieving like this had to be better than not really being fully here.
Footsteps echoed in the staircase. Hermione hesitated as she saw the strange sight in front of her, mouth opening as the open door to Malfoy's room revealed just what had happened. "Harry?"
Mouthing, "It's all right," Harry shook his head, keeping his gaze on Hermione. He didn't think she could really help now.
He didn't know what exactly had happened, but after hearing the sounds coming from Malfoy's room, he could make a few educated guesses. He wasn't going to say anything until he knew more. The way Ron had clearly gone to see Malfoy and not the other way around meant something.
Hermione seemed to understand, even though she didn't look too happy about it. She tried to offer him a slight smile that ended up looking more like a grimace. Then she turned around and promptly stumbled onto Remus Lupin who was leaning heavily against the railing as he was climbing up the stairs.
"I think it would be best if you went to bed." His voice was quiet, but the words came out firmly. Seeing the relieved look on Hermione's face, he added, "Both of you."
"I..." Harry started to protest, but then realized he wasn't sure he could help either.
He didn't know what to do or say. The grief so evident in Ron was too overwhelming, it would grab a hold of him and take him away as well. It would do no good to either of them.
Remus walked closer to them, his gait slower than usual, as if he was still recovering from the after effects of the full moon even though it had been days ago. He looked determined to deal with this. "I will take care of him." He cast a look at the open doorway through which he could clearly see Draco Malfoy standing in the middle of his bedroom, looking uncharactaristically lost. "I'll take care of them both."
"Okay." It was one of the hardest things he'd ever done, but eventually Harry was able to let go of Ron. He hated leaving him like this, but knew he didn't really have a choice.
He trusted Remus' opinion on this.
Waiting long enough to see Remus put his hand on Ron's shoulder, Harry went to his room. He closed the door firmly behind him and then sagged against it, suddenly exhausted.
How the hell could things turn like this again? Everything was already so damn miserable and now this. They had all suffered, were all broken, and now they had to carry each other through all this pain. It made him feel so damn empty inside.
Glad he'd already been through his evening routines in the bathroom, Harry shrugged off his robe and dropped it on the floor. His trousers followed. Not bothering to actually pick them up, he crawled into bed.
Eyes closed, he simply waited.
There were sounds coming from the other side of the wall. Harry couldn't hear any words, but recognized the cadence of Remus' voice, the calm and measured tones he had used years ago in Hogwarts. He was glad he couldn't hear any words, he couldn't handle them right now.
When he heard Ron's voice raise up in a keening wail, he grabbed his wand and cast a silencing charm around his bed. All sounds were cut immediately, and he was wrapped in a quiet cocoon. It was probably at least a bit dangerous to shut himself off the rest of the world like this, but right now it was better than listening to Ron.
Waving his wand again, Harry surrounded himself in darkness. He closed his eyes and tried to get a good position on the bed.
He hated the silence, not used to it. The only time in his life he hadn't heard the sounds of other people breathing in the room during the night time had been when he had been living at Privet Drive. Sleeping alone in his cupboard or in Dudley's second bedroom had been filled with a kind of relief and loneliness, and now all that remained was the sad feeling of missing company. Missing the other Gryffindors, missing Snape.
Harry sighed. Everything had changed once again, and in his opinion to the worse. The battles were still ahead of them, but they were already scarred, all of them. He had to wonder if any of them would live through this war even relatively sane. If they indeed survived.
Probably. No matter how bad things looked, most people would manage to pull through. Like those who had fought the first war against Voldemort. None had got away from it unscathed, but they could deal with most of the things life threw at them. Some with more help than others, but they managed.
Falling asleep felt as distant as on most nights when he'd ended up walking through the corridors at Hogwarts, but he refused to remove the silencing charm and get up. This was his life now; his responsibility to be able to deal with things even if that meant giving the unpleasant duties to someone else. Remus would deal with Ron and Malfoy and tomorrow, he'd talk to his friends.
Harry pulled the blanket tighter around him. His first night in this bed, his bed, in his own house. It felt strange, and foreign, and so unbelievably empty.
Part 14 The scent of fresh coffee with a hint of cardamom was tickling Harry's nose, bringing a grin to his lips as he walked down the stairs.
He'd woken up early, feeling completely disoriented. It was strange to wake up in an unfamiliar bed, especially with no sounds in the room.
It wasn't as if Snape snored, he usually just breathed evenly, the sound having become as familiar as the soft coughs and mutters he'd heard in the Gryffindor tower for years. This silence was quite unnerving. Opening his eyes, Harry had almost yelped when he'd seen the strange room, wondering where the hell was he.
Then he'd remembered.
This was home now. Smile turning crooked at the silly thought, he'd gone through his morning routines, casting a worried look at Ron's door and deciding against going there until the door was opened.
He didn't linger in the bathroom, startled by his very chatty reflection. After a few comments, he'd decided to ask Snape for the charm to stop the damn mirror from chattering about his appearance.
It didn't take long to get dressed, and then he was almost ready to face this day.
Following his nose, he padded across the small hallway towards the kitchen. Coffee was a homey scent somehow. Sirius always insisted on it early in the morning, saying that nothing else could really wake him up.
Harry was still smiling as he pushed the dining room door open, prepared to see his godfather sitting there with his feet on the table, a cup of coffee in his hand. What he saw was definitely not what he'd thought.
His gaze fixed first on Draco Malfoy who was holding a cup of tea as if it was a lifeline, a mix of worry and determination on his face. It was a surprise to see him here right now, after what had happened last night, but then again it was Malfoy. Maybe Harry should have expected it.
He didn't know if it was Malfoy pride or something Remus had said, but he was actually glad the Slytherin was here now. Then he looked at the others and all thoughts of Malfoy escaped him.
Sipping from his cup, Sirius was leaning back on his chair, his feet firmly on the floor. Next to him, Remus was trying not to laugh as he poured himself some tea. A scrawny young house elf was carrying a tray towards the table. Behind him, another house elf was clearly supervising his movements, glaring at him.
"Eppy?" Harry grinned as she turned her glare at him, genuinely happy to see her again. Realizing he'd completely forgot to ask about the possibility of her coming to work to them, he pushed back a twinge of guilt.
It seemed Dumbledore was still one step ahead of him.
"Can Eppy get you something?" Her voice was just as whiny as he remembered. It also took a while before she managed to blurt out, "Sir."
"Maybe some toast. Thank you Eppy." Barely keeping the smile off his face, Harry sat down next to Sirius.
She glared at him for a moment and then wobbled out of the room, the young house elf following her without words.
As soon as the kitchen door slammed shut, Remus let out a chuckle. "I see you have already met Eppy." He cast a knowing look at Sirius, who was relaxing slightly.
"She was there at the cottage." Had it only been a little over a week since they came back from their little hideaway? To Harry, it felt like eternity, as if the months they had stayed there had only been a dream. "How did she get here?"
"You must ask her. She was already making breakfast when we got here." Remus grinned. "She sure is something. Told Sirius to take his feet off the table and he obeyed immediately."
Looking embarrassed, Sirius muttered, "Well I can't really talk back to someone that old."
The door opened again, and the young house elf scurried to the table carrying a plate of toast. He looked nervous as he planted the plate in front of Harry and then scurried back into the kitchen without saying anything.
"Who's that?" Harry had never seen him before, not even when visiting Dobby in the kitchens.
"He? I think he's Bob. Or something."
Remus swatted at Sirius' arm. "Bobbler." He saw the slight smile and knew that the offhand remark had been completely intentional to irritate him. It was a relief in a way. If his friend continued to treat him like he was made of glass, he would scream.
"Like I said. Bob."
That lead to a small scuffle that didn't end until Hermione walked into the room. Harry sat sipping at his tea, smiling at the very loud Gryffindor behavior.
He had missed that as well.
More tea and toast was soon delivered, and after a very disapproving glance from Eppy, Sirius and Remus settled down to eat. Harry muttered some introductions, deciding to tell more stories about Eppy and her constant disapproval when the house elf wasn't around.
The younger house elf barely stopped to nod before scurrying away looking more or less terrified. Eppy on the other hand banged a plate of toast on the table and glared.
"You will be paying them for their work, right Harry?" Hermione sounded uncomfortable. She had never grown accustomed to house elves and their eager way of serving, and the very grumpy demeanor of this particular house elf didn't encourage her to believe that it was all right to have someone work for her without some kind of compensation.
Eppy's glare focused on Hermione, her ears twitching jerkily. "Eppy doesn't need pay." She sounded offended at the very thought. After a prolonged pause, she added, "Miss."
"But..." Seeing that the glare was definitely getting darker, Hermione nodded and accepted the toast without any further words.
"It takes a while to get used to her, but she really isn't bad." Harry remembered how the house elf had acted the last time he'd seen her and was glad she was here to make their lives a bit more complicated with her grumbling. He forced himself to cast a look at Malfoy, who was doing an excellent job mimicing a statue. "Right, Malfoy?"
An awkward silence fell in the dining room as everyone turned to glance at Malfoy and then tried to look like they weren't staring.
"Yes." It was clear that Draco had no idea what was expected of him, but he nodded anyway. "She is an... intriguing person." Not that he'd ever noticed house elves for their personality, but Eppy was indeed someone he couldn't ignore.
Buttering another piece of toast, Sirius muttered, "You don't say."
Even Hermione seemed to find that amusing, though the looks she cast at Malfoy were barely above freezing.
Breakfast was definitely different from the one served in the Great Hall. It was actually nice to sit around the small table and listen to Remus and Hermione engage in polite small talk. Harry was glad to just sit back and watch, knowing there was no one staring at him or assessing him. A refreshing change.
It gave him hope that things would somehow be all right. Maybe not perfect, but close enough for him to focus on the things he really needed to worry about; the war, the Order. It would be too easy to get lost in everything that was so wrong with his friends or his life and he couldn't afford that right now.
Harry smiled, relaxing more, and then almost choked on his tea as the door banged open, the sound reminding him of Snape.
In his corner of the table, Malfoy seemed to shrink a little.
"Good morning, Ronald." Remus' voice was soft and gentle. "Come on, sit down." He gestured at an empty seat between him and Hermione, as if it had been left there just for Ron.
"Harry. Hermione." Nodding at both of his friends, Ron walked to the empty seat, not looking at anyone for more than a few seconds.
Everyone muttered their greetings back.
It was uncomfortable for a moment, when no one knew what to really say. Harry could see Hermione glance at Ron with a worried expression on her face, but she didn't break the silence either.
When the door banged open to show Eppy bring the morning's paper in, Ron jumped and then gaped at the house elf. The smile on his face was faint, but genuine. "Eppy!"
Grumbling something from under her breath, she slammed the paper on the table and then pushed a cup a little closer to Ron.
The way Ron shook his head slightly made Harry feel a lot better. Even though his friend didn't exactly look happy, he didn't look like everything he said and did was false anymore.
"Tea? Or would you prefer coffee again?" There was no trace of awkwardness in Sirius as he reached out for the pot planted in front of him. He and Ron had got along well ever since the unfortunate rush under the Womping Willow, and they had always seemed to bond over food.
That hadn't changed. "Coffee, please." Nose twitching, Ron reached out for the cup and held it steady as Sirius poured the steaming liquid. "Thanks."
The easy mood was definitely gone, but everyone seemed to do their best not to acknowledge the fact. After a few minutes, when the house elves were once again puttering around, Draco pushed his chair back, getting to his feet. "Thank you," he mumbled with his gaze focused on the easiest target who happened to be Eppy, almost incredulous of the fact that he was actually thanking someone equivalent to a household item.
"Malfoy." It was irritating that Harry didn't know what the hell had happened between Malfoy and Ron last night, but considering how Sirius hadn't maimed the Slytherin, he could bet it wasn't completely Malfoy's doing.
Startled, Draco looked up from the floor and managed a small nod. "Potter." Straightening himself, he cast a brief look around the table. "Granger. Mr. Black. Professor Lupin."
There was an encouraging look in Lupin's eyes.
Draco sighed. It was clear what was expected of him and since the werewolf was living with Potter's godfather, his wish was kind of his command. Keeping his voice as toneless as possible, he muttered, "Weasley."
Ron jolted as he heard his name said out loud and then cast a highly suspicious look at Malfoy. He could see no laughter on his face, but that didn't really mean anything. The calm grey eyes were measuring him, and he was sure that if he looked into them for too long, it would lead to a fight.
He was so tired of fighting with him, he was so damn tired of being angry all the time.
"Malfoy," he said.
Without any delays, Draco walked out of the dining room, his steady footsteps echoing in the house as he obviously headed straight to the stairs.
Ron let out a deep breath.
Responding to Malfoy was definitely not a peace offering, but there had been no real anger in his voice either.
"How are you doing, Ronald?"
Smiling wearily at the way Remus sounded awfully like his father, Ron said, "Better." He didn't look at his friends saying that. He could see that there was genuine worry in Remus' eyes, and added slowly, "I still... miss Fred and I don't want to kill Ma... anyone. So I'd say I'm doing better."
Hermione let out a slight sniffle but hid it well by fussing over her tea.
When no one really commented on what he'd said, Ron cast a brief look at Harry and then grabbed a piece of toast.
"So we're all going to be okay?"
Stunned by Harry's hesitant question, Ron looked back up. There were so many things they hadn't spoken of hanging between them, but to this there was only one real answer. "Yeah. We're all going to be okay."
At least he hoped they would be. Remus had spent hours listening to him and then talking quietly, but he still had no idea what last night had been about. All he knew was that his whole body ached and that he hurt even more inside. He missed his family. He missed Fred.
And it had really been all right to admit that he was indeed grieving. That didn't mean that he wasn't a little ashamed of what had happened last night, but he had the feeling that it was going to be fine.
Refusing to dwell on Malfoy or what had happened -- even though Remus would undoubtedly want to talk about that with him later on -- Ron drank his coffee. He was going to have breakfast now and that was it. Nothing more.
Harry watched Ron eat, wondering if he should somehow get involved with the mess his friend had got himself into. He had first hand experience of guilt and sorrow and madness, but he didn't think his input would help anyone.
It was too close to him, he could feel all the raw emotions tingling on his skin.
Painful as it was, he had to admit that it was best if he didn't even try to deal with Ron's problems. He had enough problems on his own, going to Hogwarts to meet with Dumbledore seeming like the least of them.
A slight touch on his arm made him almost yelp, and he he turned to see Remus' serious expression.
Mouthing silently, "It will be all right," Remus patted his arm gently before offering him more tea. Harry smiled at him beatifically, glad that he didn't have to deal with Ron's confusion.
When he put the teapot down, Harry mouthed in return, "Thank you!" Remus would take care of whatever was going on with Ron; he trusted Remus and knew he'd do what was best for his friend.
Harry was simply going to eat his breakfast and then head to Hogwarts for a private meeting with Dumbledore. He had a hunch his days of wondering what to do were about to end.
The house elves brought more toast and once again everyone concentrated on the food. Eppy glowered at everyone, especially Ron and then slammed another pot of the cardamom -scented coffee in front of Sirius.
Sirius smiled at her, the expression making him look years younger. "Thank you, Eppy." In his youth, he'd always used flirting to hide his confusion. It had always worked with professor McGonagall, turning the stern look into an exasperated smile, so he figured he should at least try.
He saw Eppy's ears twitch with annoyance, but the glare wasn't as deadly as it had been earlier. The house elf muttered slightly to herself as she left the room.
"Always the charmer." Shaking his head, Remus glanced at Sirius. He should have known that would happen.
Sirius grinned, feeling ridiculously proud of himself. "You should know."
Then he realized that the teenagers were all staring at him. He coughed, trying hard to ignore the way Harry's eyes were twinkling with merriment. Lifting the cup to his lips, Sirius turned his attention back to the Daily Prophet he'd grabbed earlier.
The next moment his cup clattered on the table, spilling coffee on the clean tablecloth. The whole room reverbarated with his angry cry, "Those miserable bastards!"
His yell could probably have been heard back in Hogwarts.
It was quiet in the dungeons, the thick stone walls keeping out all the bustling sound from the upper levels of the castle.
After yesterday's excitement, Snape hadn't felt like going to the Great Hall for breakfast. It was still summer vacation, so Dumbledore couldn't insist on his presence. He preferred eating here where he didn't have to be courteous to colleagues.
He'd been up for a while now. It had taken him some time to fall asleep, and when he finally had, he hadn't slept that well. Probably because of the heat.
Refusing to even consider it was because he was sleeping alone again, Snape had stormed into the shower and stood there for a long time. Enjoying the fact that there was no one to harass him or crowd him. It was bliss.
Feeling grumpier than in a long time, he'd finally emerged to his living room, definitely not in the mood to go to the Great Hall for breakfast. If there had been students around, it would have been different; at least then he could have taken his bad mood on some idiot breaking rules.
House elves were always accomondating, and he didn't even bother to intimidate the one bringing him the breakfast tray. He simply shooed him off and sat down, pouring himself some tea before grabbing the newspaper.
Snape squinted his eyes as he took in the first paragraph on the front page. The small movement made him look even angrier than usual. Here, in the silence of his rooms, he didn't have to school his expression at all so he could allow the worry accompany the anger.
'The true story of Harry Potter, the greatest hero of our time!' The header made Snape snort.
So this was what it would be like. Now that Harry was seen as an adult, he'd be the subject of more intrusive articles. The reporters would probably do anything to get a story about him.
He was a bit surprised that there was nothing about the meeting last night. Maybe the wards set around the school had indeed kept the reporters out. They'd get to the story soon enough, he thought. They always did.
Spreading the Daily Prophet on the table, Snape started to read.
By the time he finished with the main article and the smaller ones on page four and seven, he wasn't angry anymore. He was seething with rage, his body tingling with the need to destroy things. Not only because of the condescending way the article had been written, but also because of the contents of the story.
He wondered if it was true; that Harry's relatives truly were the worst kinds of Muggles and that they had abused him as a child, that the rumors circulating in school were actually accurate describing the desolate childhood of...
Snape squeezed the paper in his hands. He wouldn't let his anger burn through him before he had the chance to talk to Harry.
It could all be just a fabrication. There were probably stupid pig headed Muggles in Harry's past, but he doubted they had actually mistreated him. A cupboard under the stairs? That had to be some kind of an inside joke. And the obese boy trying to hide behind his even more obese father in the picture, he was probably suffering from some kind of a glandular problem. Not a great pampered bully.
Because it couldn't be true. If it was, Harry wouldn't be sane. He'd be a suicidal wreck using alcohol and drugs to escape the madness of his life.
Snape knew Harry didn't like his relatives and yet spent every summer with them. Surely Albus would have given him a place to stay if Dursleys really were such monsters!
He looked at the article again, knowing that Albus Dumbledore would do anything to conquer Voldemort. Would even leave a child to suffer with his rigid and sadistic Muggle relatives.
Suddenly, he wasn't hungry anymore.
Deciding to call the house elves to clear out the untouched breakfast, Snape went to the hearth. He wasn't certain what he was about to do. He couldn't contact Harry, and even if he could, he would not do it. He couldn't afford such a gesture; it would simply add to the idiot's delusions about caring.
He didn't want to call the Headmaster either, knowing that Albus would offer him some platitudes instead of the truth he needed to hear.
Angered by the whole thing, he walked back to the table to stare at the Daily Prophet as if it would suddenly reveal him more than he'd already read.
It irritated him, the words printed on the paper making his hands itch with the need to smash something. He watched the two Muggles in the picture again, wondering what kind of people they really were. He wasn't an expert in Muggles.
Except when it came to inflicting pain on them. Snape let the thought wash through him as always when he allowed himself to think about the past. For the first time in decades, it didn't make him cringe with shame.
He took deep breaths. This was totally unacceptable! He should put the paper down again and concentrate on something important. He had work to do, and he'd spent enough time reading through this rubbish already. That firmly in mind, he looked down at the article again.
Maybe one more look at it before he put it away.
The door behind him opened, the very familiar sound of the hinges creaking slightly sending shivers run down his spine.
He spun around, the movement a reflex. He wasn't exactly worried about someone unknown entering. There was only one person besides him who had access to his room uninvited.
"Hi." Harry let the door slam shut behind him, but didn't move away from the doorway. He'd taken the fact that the door still responded to his touch as a good sign, but now that he was here, he wasn't certain how to behave after all.
Snape stared at him, still slightly shocked that he hadn't even thought about replacing his wards. That had never happened before. Harry was the only person he'd ever allowed such access, not even Albus could waltz into his rooms like that. He should have remembered to deal with this.
"Potter," he muttered. The boy looked awful. It was clear that he hadn't slept well last night and there was a tight look around his eyes. "I assume you have seen today's newspapers."
Not exactly the way he had intended to say it, but it was better to blurt it out than to stand here in silence. The uncomfortable silences always seemed to unnerve Harry more than anything.
The only answer he got was a weary sigh.
"I see." Snape couldn't say if Harry's sigh was because of the things that had been written about him or if it was an indication of his physical state. Probably both. "So you have."
Harry nodded curtly. "Sirius and Ron told me about the thing." They had actually shouted out their outrage, Ron finally looking his usual self as he focused on the paper. "And no. Haven't read it. Don't intend to either." He'd read the articles when he'd been younger and had felt like crap after most of them. He didn't need that kind of a feeling right now.
"Are the things there true?" There was no emotion in Snape's voice.
For a brief moment, Harry considered lying to Snape. He knew he wasn't very good at it, especially when it was about something like this, but it might be worth the try.
Then he nodded silently. "Probably." He couldn't say without reading it, but was pretty certain that the reporters had got most of the details right. "Muggles, the cupboard, bars on the window, them hating everything about the wizarding world and so on."
Snape wasn't fooled by the light tone. He kept his piercing gaze on Harry as he asked, "They say the Muggles kept you as a servant. Mistreated you and abused you. Didn't allow you to have any friends or outside contacts." He did not miss the flinch. "Are those things true as well?"
It sounded so stupid when Snape put it that way. Harry squirmed, not really knowing how to explain. Words would never tell anyone just exactly what it had been like to live with the Dursleys. How it had been to watch them pamper Dudley, never having anyone or anything of his own. "I guess so."
A very unfamiliar feeling was filling Snape, surpassing his usual annoyance or even rage. Crumpling the paper slightly, he wanted to incinarate the whole thing. He couldn't believe Dumbledore had allowed this to go on for years and was disgusted by the fact that it was now spread across the whole wizarding world, turning Harry Potter once again into the object of gawking and probably worship as well.
The silence was suffocating. Harry could see the strange mixture of rage and something soft in Snape's gaze. "Don't." He whispered it out, feeling nauseous. "Oh, please don't."
"What are you talking about?" Concerned by the sudden lost expression on Harry, Snape placed the paper on the table.
"Don't feel sorry for me. Don't pity me, or think you need to coddle me now that you know all the bad stuff I've been through." Harry tried to make it sound like he was making fun of the whole thing, but the plea was genuine. He couldn't handle Snape's pity.
Snape raised an eyebrow. "You really do know me so well, Potter. I was just about to start feeling sorry for you." He could see his dry tones made a small smile appear on Harry's lips, feeling disgustingly warm about the whole thing. "Your relatives were cretins. You survived. That's what really matters." He had plenty of other things to say about the Muggles, but held his tongue.
He knew Harry felt guilty about his aunt's death. From what he'd read, he knew that he shouldn't. It was no wonder he wasn't able to really mourn the woman who had abused him as a child.
Harry almost sagged with relief. He'd never really believed that learning about his past would make Snape behave like all those who had wanted to coddle him, but one never knew. Stranger things had happened. "Yeah." He had to agree with Snape.
It was almost as if the word broke a petrifying charm. Snape made a gesture with his hand and then walked to the couch, knowing that he wouldn't have to sit there alone for long.
He couldn't stop thinking about the insanities he'd read about. They didn't paint a picture of an intolerable brat who was well aware of his celebrity and fame. That had all been a notion their world had painted as Harry Potter had returned from the Muggle world.
"I never knew." Musing out quietly, Snape didn't even look at Harry.
Smiling faintly, Harry sat next to him, leaning against him. "I know. You thought I was like Malfoy. A total idiot. A pampered brat who was full of his own fame." He tried to make the words sound carefree, not really wanting this to turn into mush. Snape's words had sounded awfully like... An apology. Or as close as he'd ever get to one.
A snort escaped Snape. "I still think you're an idiot, Potter." He turned to look down at Harry, his eyes glinting with a myriad of emotions. "I doubt anything can change that."
He watched the soft smile caress Harry's lips for a moment. The bright look in his eyes gave enough warning, and he didn't even flinch when Harry leaned against him and kissed him, the movement slow and measured. It was exactly the kind of a foolish gesture that was expected.
Harry was slowly beginning to relax. He'd been tense ever since Sirius had read through the paper, first trying to evade his godfather's questions and then doing his best to stop the man from turning into his Animagus form so he could run to Surrey to kill the rest of his relatives.
Leaving shortly after, letting Remus handle both an angry Sirius and the tense situation between Ron and Malfoy had felt kind of crummy, but he knew there was really nothing else to do. He had to set a line somewhere or he'd be drowning under every single thing begging for his attention.
He'd chosen the part he couldn't escape, letting others deal with the rest.
Of course following Dumbledore's invitation meant he could also have a moment of pure selfishness, but he chose not to tell that to anyone. Sirius was already trying to work with his anger with the Dursleys; no need to add to it.
He was really tired of seeing his almost peaceful life crumble every time he'd started to relax about it. They were at war, he was trying to deal with his friends and family hurting, and now this. To say it was completely unfair was mildly put.
Gesturing at the papers, Harry muttered, "I really don't need that right now."
"No." Snape had to agree with that. "But you'd better get used to it. I doubt they will stop now." He was willing to bet on it.
Harry didn't say anything, he just sighed and rubbed his eyes.
"Are you having trouble sleeping?" Strange how hard it was to make it sound like he didn't really care. Snape hadn't seen this familiar tired look on Harry's face for some time. "Bad dreams?"
"No... No dreams." It made Harry frown slightly. Now that he thought about it, it didn't really make any sense. He hadn't had a nightmare since they came back from the cottage.
Snape raised a prompting eyebrow. "But?" There was always more. He could tell by the careful way Harry was avoiding his gaze.
There were so many things Harry could say. Ron having a breakdown, Malfoy acting almost like his old self but kind of not. He could talk about the meeting or the war or the fact that people had been staring at him on the way from Hogsmeade, staring and whispering, and he was sick of it.
But there was nothing Snape could do about those things. They were his life now.
"I spent half the night tossing and turning." He shrugged. "I'm not used to sleeping alone anymore."
"I know." The admission slipped out before Snape could really stop it, but the glare following it was enough to make it clear that he hadn't meant to say that.
Harry's eyes widened slightly as an expression of pure astonishment spread on his face. He was intelligent enough not to say anything, he simply sat there and smiled at Snape.
It was more than enough.
They ate early lunch together, not really talking about anything. Snape expected Harry to use some excuse to stay for longer; most likely to engage in yet another sexual encounter, and was honestly stunned when Harry simply kissed him, tasting ridiculously of ice cream, and then left for his meeting with the Headmaster.
Watching the door slam shut after Harry, Snape refused to wonder when he'd be back.
Part 15 The next few days were a blur; an endless flow of people milling around Hogwarts, hours spent engaged in small talk and courtesies that Harry really didn't feel up to. There was no real time to be by himself during the day, and when he finally got home, there was another task waiting for him.
Harry's evenings were once again spent reading. Studying for the N.E.W.T.s had been good practice for reading about war, even though now he wasn't skimming through the subjects that very often made him disgusted, forcing himself to read through every word.
He read everything he could find about wizarding wars, exploring various techniques and tactics. Reading about them made him realize for the first time how dangerous Voldemort was. Never before had a dark wizard had so many willing followers. Never before had there been one who would use young people and a whole House at Hogwarts so ruthlessly. Truly the heir of Slytherin.
After finishing with the history books, Harry went to read through Muggle books about war. Not so much about the ones they'd fought, for that would have been a work of a lifetime. It seemed the Muggles had no idea how to live with each other.
He read about the philosophy of war.
There were evenings when he was too tired to sleep or too afraid he would spend the whole night in the grip of a nightmare. The scenes from the books would play in his mind, tormenting him and morphing into something very much like real memories.
He knew the small potions cabinet downstairs was always filled, the vials and bottles familiar to him. There was a vial full of the Draught of the Living Death there, he'd checked, but he never drank any of it. Maybe it would have helped him to get some rest when his mind refused to shut up, but he didn't want to hide behind potions.
It would be too easy to simply add sleeping potion to his evening routines. Brush his teeth, go to bed and gulp down a dosage so that he'd sleep till morning. He knew Snape would make sure there would be more when he needed it, but he didn't want to need anything.
His days were busy as well. They had lots of plans for Hogsmeade, and everyone seemed to need his approval for every single change they made in the village. Harry didn't really understand that, but since it was rather harmless, he played along, nodding at most of the questions and then letting people work on whatever they saw proper.
The Order of the Phoenix was now openly working, and even though the endless meetings and meaningful conversations were exhausting Harry, he was also glad to be actually doing things.
It was no real surprise that all official people from the Ministry were absent. Those like Arthur Weasley were present strictly as members of the Order whenever they attended a meeting.
Harry didn't like it, but he didn't let it affect on what he was doing. After all, he was used to being forced to face things he didn't like.
Things weren't much better at home. The atmosphere was tense at best and most of the time it felt like studying war techniques and leadership was better than dealing with his friends.
Once again, Harry was glad Remus was taking care of whatever was going on between Malfoy and Ron.
He was too busy trying to survive the endless meetings and the waiting. He'd thought that trying to fill his head with details about various school subjects had been bad; the details and the nuances about war and diplomacy were definitely worse.
Getting out of the house didn't seem like a respite either. The quick shopping expeditions to Honeydukes were always overshadowed by either Ron or Malfoy tailing after him and trying to look nonchalant when he made his purchases. The only other place he went was Hogwarts, and the people that seemed to be drawn to him on the way there and in the castle were beginning to make Harry feel claustrophobic.
It wasn't a long walk from their house to Hogwarts, but there was always a crowd wherever he went. People simply needed to greet Harry, to be a part of his life somehow. Even though it wasn't pleasant, he allowed it.
He couldn't think of any way he could really make them stop.
Most of the people were gathering in the Great Hall, like they usually did. There were no big official meetings, but everyone seemed to need to be here, to be a part of something. Harry figured it felt better than to just sit and wait.
At least today, Harry and his friends were here so early there wasn't a real crowd forming yet. There were only older Order members present, talking quietly with each other.
Casting a brief look behind him, he led his friends through the door, not surprised to see Ron head to his family as soon as he saw George and Bill. His own gaze searched for Snape. It didn't surprise him to see that the man wasn't here yet.
A relief of sorts.
"Are you sure this is a good idea?" Whispering quietly, Sirius leaned closer to Remus. This was the first time they were all here together, and he was almost overwhelmed by all the people. He didn't know what to really do, his gaze focusing on Harry, then moving back to Remus.
Harry nodded quietly. "Yes." He was not going to announce Sirius' presence to people, but it was important to him that he was able to walk openly with him, even if there were only people he could really trust around.
Maybe not a free man to the spirit of the word, but at least he didn't have to hide inside the house all the time either.
Opting to stand behind Remus, Sirius kept his attention on Harry and tried not to panic. He didn't like crowds, especially with so many unknown people.
He had to wonder if people would recognize him, for some days he looked into the mirror and didn't even recognize himself. The beard looked good on him now that he was actually trimming it, but he doubted he'd ever really get used to the grey in his hair.
Smiling slightly, he leaned even closer to Remus, not realizing that the calm and happy expression was the one thing that would distract people from connecting his face with his name immediately.
Harry wasn't eager to become the center of the crowd that would undoubtedly form sooner or later, so he stood near the wall, where he could pretend to be just with his family. Some of the professors were talking loudly about Voldemort, and for once the members of the Order were more interested in the debate than in their big hero.
It was definitely a good thing.
Listening to Flitwick's words just as absentmindedly as he had sometimes back in class, Harry wondered if today would be the day when they got to actually do something. It was frustrating to spend hours walking around Hogwarts, to listen to people muse about things he'd known for ages and then go back home to read endless reports and books that were filled with real horrors.
Spending days doing practically nothing was surprisingly tiring.
Sirius' expression darkened, and Harry knew instantly who had just stepped into the room. He'd hoped Snape would arrive when there were more people here, to keep Sirius from making a scene.
The look on Sirius' face indicated that no amount of witnesses would prevent him from confronting Snape.
"Remember, you promised you wouldn't do anything to him!" Trying not to sound desperate, Harry stared at his godfather. When there was no answer, he glanced at Remus, mouthing a silent, "Please."
Already holding Sirius' arm in a gentle grip, Remus leaned closer, "We'd better find a place to sit, Sirius." His persistant tugging seemed to register, and with some effort he managed to pull some of Sirius' attention back to him.
Sirius squeezed his hand into a fist so hard his nails bit into his palm, wanting nothing more than to punch Snape's ugly face and tell him never to come anywhere near Harry again. Maybe if Harry and Remus had stayed behind, he wouldn't have resisted the temptation.
With a conscious effort, he relaxed his hand and leaned even closer to Remus again. He was trying, but no matter what, he couldn't turn his gaze away from the greasy git.
The angry glare seemed to touch Snape as if it was physical. He tilted his head to the side and then turned around to see the small group of men all looking at him. The rage on Black barely registered; he was used to that by now. He ignored him and answered the slight nod from Harry.
It made Black look even angrier.
Snape almost rolled his eyes at that. He was certain Harry was now regretting his brilliant idea of telling his godfather about sleeping with him. Foolish trusting Gryffindor.
Still, seeing Black's obvious discomfort at his presence was slightly gratifying as well. For a moment, Snape wondered what would happen if he adopted one of Draco Malfoy's smirks. The results would be undoubtedly spectacular.
The pleading look in Harry's eyes that was slowly turning into a scowl made him school his expression into its usual indifference.
It seemed to be the right decision.
A moment later Black almost disappeared behind Lupin and then there was no sign of the man as a large black dog padded to stand next to Harry. Snape wasn't surprised; it didn't take much insight to realize that the Animagus form was the mutt's preferred way to deal with emotional turmoil.
Harry stood back as Remus and Snuffles made their way across the hall -- away from where Snape was now standing -- and wondered if he should have just stayed home today.
Probably.
"Thank you." Hermione smiled at Terry who held out a cup of tea for her as usual, the gesture a sad reminder of all the hours they'd spent together as Head Boy and Girl.
The last school year had been full of hard work, but there had been small moments of peace and contentment when the two of them had sat down and had a cuppa and talked about everything and nothing.
Terry sat down next to her, inhaling the aroma coming from his cup. "You're welcome."
His tone was always so calm and gentle. Hermione had liked that even before they had been chosen to work together.
"Did you get the book I sent you?"
Hermione liked that as well, the quiet way Terry had always been able to fill silences between them. Unlike her other friends, he really did seem to enjoy studying, holding books in great regard. "Yes. Thank you." As soon as she finished reading it, they would undoubtedly spend hours talking about the fascinating subject of binding charms.
"Good."
They lapsed into silence, both drinking their tea and watching people enter the hall. Hermione liked watching the Order gather together even though they weren't really doing anything important yet. She could tell a lot by just observing people, intrigued by the nuances between them.
She'd seen Snuffles pad across the hall earlier and was secretly glad Sirius had chosen not to show himself openly yet. Even though everyone here was a member of the Order, tension was high and she didn't like the idea of someone accidentally hexing him before Harry could explain everyone that he wasn't a mad killer.
There seemed to be lots of things that needed to be explained, and she didn't think people could handle much more right now. Many were still wary of the three Slytherins in their midst and some of the younger people weren't over the gawking period over everything concerning Voldemort. No matter how everyone trusted Harry, it would take some convincing to have everyone stop seeing Sirius as a dangerous criminal.
She didn't know how Terry would take the news, wondering if she should explain the whole thing to him before Harry made any kind of an announcement.
Turning to glance at him, she sighed. Maybe it was a good idea. She could see how Terry was once again staring at Malfoy and Snape, the looks he cast somewhere between suspicious and outright hostile.
"It's all right." Knowing that her friend was sometimes rigid with his beliefs, Hermione smiled at him. "They're on our side."
Terry looked startled, but smiled a bit sheepishly. "Sorry. It's just... Kind of hard to get used to that."
Deciding not to say anything about the things she was forced to get used to -- including the sappy smiles on Harry's face when he saw Snape and the fact that Ron had apparently gone insane -- Hermione nodded. "You can say that again."
It was definitely different to learn how to work with the Slytherins. Their silent presence in these meetings was unnerving somehow, especially Snape's. He never really said anything unless someone -- that would be either Dumbledore or Harry -- asked his opinion, but his expression usually spoke more volumes than words.
Hermione didn't know what to think about the man. She had never liked him as a teacher, but as a member of the Order, she had nothing against him. It would almost be possible to ignore him completely if Harry hadn't told her he was somehow involved with him.
Paying no attention to Malfoy was so much easier. She didn't care if there was tension between him and Ron, Remus Lupin was taking care of that and she really didn't want to get involved with anything that had to do with Malfoy.
She pushed a lock of hair behind her ear, smiling at the questioning look Blaise Zabini threw at her from across the room. Now there was a Slytherin she might actually learn to like.
"A biscuit?" Terry's voice was slightly tense, as if he wasn't still convinced about Slytherins, but the expression on his face was more relaxed.
Smiling slightly, Hermione nodded. "Thank you."
On the other side of the room, Harry was walking towards a familiar redheaded figure. He didn't pay attention to the few cheery calls and brief touches on his shoulder.
Today's aimless wandering around the Great Hall was getting on his nerves, and he decided to do something he hadn't had the chance to do before. It wasn't a unpleasant duty, but he'd postponed this for days anyway, mainly because of the awful choking feeling that assaulted him every time he thought about this.
Harry sat next to George. "Hi."
"Harry!" George grinned like always. His grin looked perfectly normal, devoid of the lurking madness he'd expected to see. "Good to see you."
Such a happy greeting was definitely unexpected. "Are you going to stay for a while after the meeting? You could come and see Ron's new place if you're not in a hurry." In the light of this levity, Harry couldn't bring himself to say anything about Fred, not even to say that he was sorry.
"I don't know. Depends on how long this takes. Mum always worries if we stay away from the flat for too long." It never really changed; no matter how old the Weasley children grew, their mother would always worry.
"Yes." It was painful to think about Mrs. Weasley. "But I think she has a good reason to worry now." Harry's gaze was sad.
He needed to talk about this with George, even if George was trying to shove all painful memories away. He wondered if it was like it had been with Ron, if George was suppressing all the pain too.
Now there was no sign of laughter on George's face. "Yes." He ground that out with anger. "After what those bastards did to Penny, I don't blame her."
Harry couldn't say anything for a moment. It was worse than anything he'd expected. "Um... Yes." He couldn't really mention Fred now. Didn't want to trigger any kind of mental breakdown with a huge crowd witnessing everything.
"Oh." Noticing the uncomfortable look on Harry's face, George cocked his head. Sometimes he didn't even really remember why everyone wanted to treat him with such care these days. "Oh. Right. And the thing with Fred. Bloody inconvenient, I say. Even though I'm not really complaining. It's not that bad."
His words were followed by an absolute silence, as Harry could only stare.
George smiled a little, making a small gesture with his hand. He didn't seem to find anything surprising in Harry's behavior, considering that was the reaction he got from everyone. "Snape wants you."
Harry's mouth fell open. So now George wasn't only insane, he was a clairvoyent as well? "Huh?"
"Snape. He's right there coming towards us." Pasting an innocent expression on his face, George greeted the man standing almost behind Harry. "Good morning, Professor. Nice to see you again. Extremely nice! Couldn't be a nicer thing, really. Sorry, must go now. Bye." With a knowing wink at Harry, he hopped to his feet and then scurried away.
Feeling like he'd just fallen off his broom, Harry stared after George.
"Potter, I... Potter? Is everything all right?" The way Harry was simply gawking after Weasley made Snape tense.
"I..." Shaking his head slightly, Harry decided to go with the truth. "There's something going on with the Weasleys."
Snape cocked his head. "Yes?" It was not a surprise. There was always something going on with the Weasleys. "Anything serious?"
Not knowing what to say, Harry just shrugged.
He could see Ron standing nearby and decided not to waste any time worrying. It was best if he just went to him and asked. But first he was going to stand here a moment longer and let all the thoughts disappear.
Enjoy Snape's presence.
No matter how he'd tried, he'd been unable to spend any time alone with Snape. They always exchanged a few painfully polite and impersonal words during these meetings, but that was all, and it was certainly not enough. Even standing here close to the man was better than nothing.
Snape seemed to find it slightly amusing, but accomodated him anyway, standing there as if lost in thought and ignoring the suspicious looks that were aimed at him.
"I should go," Harry muttered, knowing all too well he could stand here for hours. It would definitely be easier than to mingle with the others and try not to show his frustration. Though sooner or later the need to touch Snape would become overwhelming. "I'll... See you later."
He didn't look at Snape but simply walked away.
Snape followed him with his gaze, his expression veiled.
"Harry!" Flashing a happy smile at his friend, Ron ignored the creepy way Snape was staring at them. "Any news?" These kind of lazy days were okay, but Harry had talked about training and planning.
"No, not really. Ron... Is everything all right?"
Usually Ron could at least guess what the worry was all about even if he didn't really want to think about it -- or Malfoy -- but this time Harry's question came out of nowhere. "Huh?"
Keeping his voice quiet, Harry said, "I spoke with George there."
He didn't really have to say more.
Ron's face fell. "Oh. That. Yeah. I mean no. There are things." That was one way to put it. "Stuff." He had no idea how to say it so that it made sense.
"It's as if he doesn't acknowledge that Fred is..." Harry paused for a moment before finishing the sentence, "dead."
It was awful to say it out loud again, but he couldn't keep all the painful things unsaid anymore.
Ron looked down at his feet. "It's not that." Knowing that he had to tell Harry the truth no matter how his family might want to keep it quiet, he shrugged. "He knows. I talked to him and he remembers seeing the Death Eaters and Fred."
The choking feeling was back, and it was not easier to talk about this to Harry than it had been to say it to Remus Lupin.
So he simply blurted out, "He just doesn't agree that Fred's dead. Somehow he's got this idea that Fred was mereged into him instead of... You know? Like he's both him and Fred now. Sometimes he even talks like that, like they used to make all their weird jokes together. He just says both their lines."
Harry knew his horror and nausea showed on his face, but he couldn't control his expression no matter how he tried. He couldn't even begin to imagine how awful that had to be for the Weasleys. At least Ron had snapped out of his denial. He wondered if George would keep living his fantasy forever.
Still, he couldn't suppress the shimmer of hope completely. "Are you sure he's making it up?" He'd heard crazier things in the wizarding world. Twins who were somehow merged together as one of them was killed wouldn't come even close to the most insane things he'd witnessed.
Ron had known he'd ask that. "No. No one's sure. It can't be tested. Most of the time, we couldn't really tell those two apart. There is nothing Fred said or did that George wouldn't know. And magic just won't work. Even the healers couldn't say if he's..." Once again there was hesitation before the word. "Crazy or not."
"I'm so damn sorry, Ron." Somehow Harry knew the uncertainty was worse than anything. To fear forever that your loved one was insane, but still harboring the faint hope that he might be right after all.
"Yeah." Ron cleared his throat. "Anyway, dad's staying with Bill and George for the night. I'd better go see if they want me to go with them."
Since Charlie was still on his way to recovery, Bill had decided to stay with his family, living with George above the small shop. Everyone thought that was a good idea. There was enough room for two, and George didn't need to be reminded of the empty space around him.
"They have somehow managed to rig a tellyvision up there, and dad's completely enthralled by it." Genuine laughter on his face, Ron added, "You should see him, he's all happy watching those daily documentaries about that weird Muggle village, or then he goes walking around saying things like 'you're the weakest link' or 'cheesy peas' all the time. It's the funniest thing ever."
Recognizing the clumsy but effective attempt to change the subject, Harry squeezed a thin smile on his lips and nodded. "Okay. You go to see your dad. We'll see you back at the house?"
"Yeah."
Harry watched Ron go.
He wished he knew something to say to all these people who were suffering instead of just repeating he was sorry over and over again. It didn't really change anything, and was beginning to sound very old to his ears.
But the fact was that there was really nothing he could do or say to make things better. His friends had suffered more than he could imagine, and maybe it was not his doing, but it was somewhat his fault they had been targeted.
Closing his eyes, Harry refused to watch Ron talk to his father, hating the way Mr. Weasley looked so serious all the time. It just seemed wrong.
"It will be all right, you know."
Harry let out a slight yelp and jumped at the sound of someone muttering that behind him. Shaking, he turned around, peering into the shadowy corner. "What?" He couldn't believe someone had managed to sneak up behind him like this.
"It'll be all right." Now the voice was more recognizable, the deep rumble identifying Bill Weasley. "Things look pretty bad right now, but it'll get better."
Eyes wide with shock, Harry stared at the dark form standing near the wall. He couldn't see Bill well enough to see if he was just saying that or if he really meant it.
Bill let out a sigh before saying firmly. "We don't blame you for what happened at the house, and neither should you. It's war."
"I thought..." Shaking his head slightly, Harry cut off the sentence, deciding against saying anything about Mrs. Weasley or Percy. It was easy to understand why she wasn't there, but seeing Percy always made him feel hollow; as if he wasn't simply grieving but gone mad with the pain and hatred.
Harry wasn't sure he even knew just exactly who or what he hated.
"You thought wrong." Bill was still staying in the shadows. "You almost got killed when they came after me. I know you're not the kind of person who lets others do the fighting and dying for you."
He stepped forward, looking at Harry in the eye for the first time.
There was no anger in Bill's eyes, only pain and weariness. "Those bastards killed my brother. I don't care what some people would say about the reason. I don't care about that. They killed Fred because they like killing, and everything else is just an excuse."
Harry could find no words because his throat was closing in. All he could manage was a curt nod.
It seemed to be enough.
He watched Bill walk to his family, and wondered if this was the way the days were going to play from now on. Short encounters with friends, then watching them walk away.
Maybe he should try a bit more himself, but talking about death and sorrow didn't make him want to start small talk with those around him.
But he really didn't want to wallow in misery and hopelessness either.
Harry ran his fingers through his messy hair, taking a deep breath. This whole so called meeting was a waste of time, but he didn't have to spend the day doing nothing. There were always things that he could do; join a conversation with the professors or ask Dumbledore about their schedule.
There were groups of people looking like they were busy arguing about things, engaged in heated conversations that were drawing others near. It looked like everyone was confirming their place in the Order, bonding with others and truly becoming a part of the whole.
Of course Malfoy and Zabini were simply standing in a corner, talking quietly together and trying to ignore the curious and sometimes even openly hostile glances thrown at them.
Harry hated the way everyone seemed to be able to mingle in the room except for those two.
Yes, Malfoy had always been a prick. Harry was definitely not going to make excuses for him, and he had a funny feeling that Malfoy wouldn't even want him to. Still, he was a member of the Order now, one of them, as was Zabini who had never done anything to hurt anyone.
They shouldn't have to deal with suspicion like this.
It was pretty clear what he should do next. "Malfoy!" Making sure the word held no anger in it, he stepped next to the Slytherin. "Zabini."
Smiling hesitantly, Blaise Zabini looked at him. "Potter."
Harry smiled back, not even forcing the expression. "Good to see you here." There was a short silence as he tried to think of something to say. He'd simply reacted to the glares and silence, and now had no idea how to go on.
"I was wondering if there are any plans for housing in Hogsmeade." Seeing that Potter was desperately thinking about something to say, Draco made a slight gesture towards Blaise. "You were just saying that you'd like to rent a place and the Broomsticks is awfully crowded." Not to mention that most of the patrons weren't happy to share lodgings with a Slytherin.
He kept his expression neutral as Harry smiled a relieved smile and then launched into a ramble about apartments. At least the Gryffindor didn't offer Blaise a place to stay. That would have probably given his housemate a heart attack.
Draco was surprised that Potter was actually going through all this trouble to make Blaise feel welcome. He hadn't exchanged more than a few words with him in the days since Weasley had barged into his room.
"We should talk to Albus about that." Glad that he now had something real to focus on, Harry gestured at the Headmaster. He'd know more about their plans for their new Headquarters.
Without waiting for a reply, he headed towards Dumbledore, gesturing the two Slytherins to come with him.
Blaise looked like he'd just been ran over by the Hogwarts Express, but followed Potter anyway.
Behind him, Draco couldn't help smirking. Potter's actions never changed; he was a Gryffindor through and through. One thought of something and he barged in head first, not considering what it would look like.
This time the rushing made people stare, some simply being aware of their young leader, others casting even more suspicious looks at Draco and Blaise. It wasn't surprising.
The very dark look on Terry Boot's face was.
Ignoring the hatred in the Ravenclaw's eyes, Draco followed Potter. He didn't care what the former Head Boy thought about him. Whatever grievances there had been between him and the Slytherins were of the past.
He knew his sense of letting the things go wasn't universal. Boot was clearly resenting all Slytherins, evading Snape and glaring at him and even Blaise from time to time.
Draco found it childish somehow. The school was over, and it was time to start thinking outside the simple definitions the Hogwarts' House system provided. Reality wasn't Slytherins and Ravenclaws and Hufflepuffs and Gryffindors, it was much more complicated than that.
Yet he would be the first one to admit that it was also so much simpler. His world had never really acknowledged the possible values of the other Houses, because they didn't matter. It had always been about blood and the purity of old family lines.
The Order didn't seem to recognize that fact, and to Draco it was a serious flaw. Individuals like Potter and Granger and astonishingly even professor Lupin who wasn't simply a half-blood but a werewolf as well were capable of great thoughts -- well, some less than the others -- and deeds. They were however not connected to the ages old traditions that formed the core and foundations of their world. Sure, they were fighting against Voldemort, but what were they fighting for?
Idiots like Terry Boot probably never even bothered their heads with such thoughts, of that Draco was certain.
He just hoped someone did.
On the other side of the Great Hall, Snape was quietly observing the youngsters, keeping an eye on Harry as always, but also assessing the the two young Slytherins in the room.
Seeing that no one else had stayed had been disappointing, but hardly a shock. Snape rarely allowed himself to hope, but he'd at least thought that Juno Sinistra would have held steady and stayed.
Instead of his colleague, it had been two youngsters who had stayed, both Draco Malfoy and Blaise Zabini had defied their families and peer pressure.
Snape couldn't completely hide his pride in his students, though he wouldn't exactly say that to anyone.
"It's always strange to watch them grow," observed Minerva McGonagall quietly.
"Yes." It certainly was. Snape watched how young Malfoy and Zabini were listening carefully as Harry said something to Albus, noticing the respectful looks as well as the absence of cringing.
He still thought of those two as students, old habits dying hard.
"Harry looks tired." McGonagall sounded slightly worried, as if she was holding onto her responsibilities as the Head of Gryffindor as well. "The poor boy."
Snape tensed.
"I never did thank you for looking after him and Ron Weasley, did I Severus?"
It was so like Minerva to bring this up now. "No need to thank me." Snape had to wonder if she'd still say this if she knew exactly what had happened at the little hideaway. And afterwards.
The sound McGonagall made was hard to decipher.
Snape cast a look at her, noticing how she was still staring at Harry. He didn't say anything, simply waited.
Finally she turned her gaze to him. "I do hope you know what you're doing."
He couldn't tell if there was disapproval in her voice and it annoyed him for he could usually read his colleagues well. This was the first time she had the advantage over him, though he wasn't surprised she knew about Harry and him. The word discretion didn't seem to be a part of Harry's vocabulary.
"Minerva..." He snapped his mouth shut. Telling her it was none of her business wasn't going to work. She was protective with her students, and would probably fuss over Harry Potter just like everyone else in their world did.
Casting a brief look at the young man, he shook his head slightly. He couldn't tell Minerva the truth; that he had absolutely no idea what he was doing, mostly because he wasn't really doing anything. This whole thing made no sense to him, but he'd be damned if he ever said that out loud.
A very delighted smile spread to Minerva's face, reminding Snape of Albus in his most irritating happy mood. "Good. I'm glad to hear it." She patted his shoulder briefly, the touch as fleeting as always.
Snape didn't say anything. Damn, he'd never understand Gryffindors!
Part 16 "We'll be going to the Three Broomsticks tonight!" It was almost an offhand remark.
Harry barely lifted his gaze from the book. "Mmm hmm." He turned the page, his attention back in the text before the last humming sound died in the room.
"The Weird Sisters are there tonight." This time Ron was definitely talking to Harry. "It's going to be a blast! Everyone's going!"
They'd been talking about that for hours today, while Harry had made his way through the crowd, talking about important stuff and concentrating on the business. Terry Boot had been really excited about the whole thing, and of course that meant that most of the others from their year had decided to go. Ron was glad Terry's enthusiasm was contagious. It even got into Hermione, who was presently doing something to her hair in the bathroom downstairs.
"That's nice, Ron."
Ron grabbed the book and held it high enough that Harry couldn't reach it. He could tell by the startled look in his friend's eyes that he had absolutely no idea what he'd just said. "Okay. What did I just say?"
Frowning, Harry tried to figure out what he'd been talking about. Something about broomsticks. Quidditch? That was always a possibility, but why would Ron be so annoyed at him if it was about Quidditch? "Er... Broomsticks?"
"Yes! The Weird Sisters are going to play there tonight, and Madam Rosmerta told me she was reserving us her best table! So what do you say? Are we going or are we going?" It was clear what Ron was thinking.
Harry sighed, both with relief at Ron not noticing how completely lost he'd been and with something close to genuine regret. "You can go. Have fun. I still have to finish reading for tomorrow's..."
"Come on, Harry!" Ron bounced on the balls of his feet. "You've been doing this every evening for days, nose buried in a bloody book."
He wasn't going to let go of this. They'd all noticed the too serious look in Harry's eyes. It simply wasn't healthy to spend every single evening reading about war. Ron was still convinced that too much knowledge was bad for your brain.
Maybe going out would help. It would be good to sit down and maybe drink some real beer. Spend some time away from this house and maybe ogle girls. Definitely ogle girls! That would be a nice and healthy thing to do.
Ron was definitely not thinking about anything he might need to stop thinking about, but an evening with alcohol and music and girls would be good for Harry. Even if he wanted boys with his alcohol and music, that would be fine as well. He was certain Sirius would be grateful forever if Harry found some younger guy to pine over.
And Merlin, it would be good to go out and do something nice. He was sick and tired of sitting here and avoiding talking to Remus about things he definitely didn't want and glaring at Malfoy who was stupid enough to keep his word that he wouldn't approach him.
Not that he really wanted Malfoy anywhere around him. He didn't. The mere thought of that git coming close to him and laying his hands on him was definitely -- and he wasn't going to go anywhere near that thought again!
"Please?" His wheedling was honest. He wanted Harry out of here, even just for one evening. He wanted to go out and have fun and it could be like the old days, when it was just him and Hermione and Harry.
"Oh, all right." Harry nodded. He was not going to get any reading done anyway. Besides, maybe he could have a good night's sleep if he spent the evening doing something other than studying war.
Ron raised his arms up, accidentally flinging the book to the other end of the room where it landed on top of Crookshanks. The cat let out a very irritated growl and stared at Ron as if trying to think of where to scratch the next time the young man came close enough. "Cool!"
Harry had barely time to tell Sirius he would be going out before Ron was already pushing him out of the door. Then it was just him and Ron and Hermione walking through the streets together like they'd just been transported back in time.
He spent only a moment wondering why Malfoy wasn't here with them before the crowd distracted his thoughts. A bit hesitant about this whole outing, he kept his mouth shut until they reached the pub, biting his tongue when he saw the bright lights and heard the noise.
The place was packed. It almost looked like everyone was staying in Hogsmeade these days and the sound of people talking to each other was almost deafening.
Of course the general sound of murmured conversations turned into something else as soon as the Gryffindor trio stepped into the pub.
"Hey, it's Harry! Harry Potter!"
Sighing, Harry waved back at the witches screaming out his name.
"Hermione! Harry! Good to see you," Terry grinned so hard his face had to hurt. "Ron! Have a beer!" He pushed a foaming pint to Ron's hand.
"Thanks, mate," Ron grinned back at him before sipping the drink. It left a foamy moustache on his upper lip. "Did the Sisters start yet?"
Terry guided them towards an empty table. "No, I think they were waiting for you to arrive."
"Cool!"
Harry didn't agree with Ron on that, but didn't say anything.
As soon as they sat down, a waitress was there with a tray full of drinks, compliments of Madam Rosmerta. It made Hermione roll her eyes as she saw the enthusiasm with which Ron emptied his pint just to grab another one, but otherwise no one made a comment about the free beer.
It took a moment for Harry to squeeze the thank you out of his suddenly dry throat. Sipping the beer didn't really help with the tight feeling; he sat back and just listened to the others talk until the Weird Sisters appeared on the makeshift platform.
At least they weren't talking about the war.
When Dean and Seamus arrived, it was almost like the old times for a moment. A group of Gryffindors and a few Ravenclaws hanging out at the Hogsmeade weekend. The only thing absent was the almost intoxicating sugar rush that always followed a day's shopping.
"Good evening, Hogsmeade!" It had got dark without anyone really paying attention and people startled at the familiar words spoken softly into the microphone.
The silence was followed by cheers.
"I see you're ready to party!" Myron Wagtail, the lead singer of the Sisters gestured at the drummer who started the familiar beat. "Let me see your hands in the air!"
There was a grinding sound as everyone pushed their chairs back and got up and raised their hands.
Never really good at dancing, Harry swayed to the music the best he could and settled for mouthing the lyrics unlike Seamus who was singing loud enough to make people around him glare.
Some Hufflepuffs seemed to think that it was a good idea to dance while holding your pint and sipping every once in a while. Ron's eyes lit up as he saw that and he made a move towards the table before Hermione stepped in front of him and refused to budge.
"Harry!"
Turning to see who was yelling into his ear, Harry stared at Susan Bones. "Yeah?"
"I was thinking..." She looked a bit flustered. "If you'd like to dance with me?" The question was followed by a nod towards the dance floor where other couples were busy bouncing around.
Harry shook his head, thinking of a polite way to decline. "I don't really dance." Jumping up and down to the rhythm of the Hippogriff wasn't actually dancing. "Sorry."
Her face fell, but she nodded. "Okay."
Before Harry could say anything else, she was already walking away to find someone else to dance with.
It wasn't a lie; dancing really wasn't Harry's forte. He used that as an excuse to decline every offer to dance when other girls came to try, always polite but showing clearly that he wasn't interested.
After a while people seemed to realize he wasn't going to accept any of the offers, and no one approached him anymore, even though there were still yearning looks cast in his direction. When Ron disappeared into the loo and Hermione went to dance with Terry, he simply sat down at their table, refusing to meet anyone's gaze.
A very effective way to just sit there and relax.
Harry was nursing his beer, still not certain he really liked the taste. It was about the only thing here he was uncertain of.
He'd wondered if this was a good idea or not, but watching all the others mill around the pub was an eye opener. Ron had been right, he needed to see this; the young witches and wizards talking, drinking and dancing, everyone having a great time.
It wasn't exactly the way he'd imagined it. He was actually having fun, mostly because of the mellow atmosphere and the music, a curious mix between traditional wizarding airs and the contemporary Muggle tunes. Very pleasing. Sipping his beer, he had to admit that he rather enjoyed the drink as well. It wasn't as disgusting as some of the other things he'd tried.
Spending an evening here was all right, but he wasn't going to make a habit out of it. That was the one thing he knew for sure.
He wouldn't miss the looks, the overly bright smiles. It would be a relief to get away from the naked lust so clear on some faces, knowing it wasn't for him but the image of him.
Sometimes he wondered if he was making a too big a fuss about all the hype concerning his life. Such a shameful thought, really, but every once in a while he had to stop to think about what was reality and what was simply a figment of his imagination.
He wanted to be wrong, wished he was just paranoid about his fame and that his fears were completely unfounded for. But he hadn't imagined the way he'd been offered a beer as soon as he sat down or how his money had been refused. He wasn't imagining the looks and whispers and the way people seemed to have the need to touch him somehow as they passed him by.
It confirmed his fears, the overwhelming change in his life.
Harry sighed. This was more difficult than he'd dreaded. He didn't want to sit here and be ogled at or watch people who'd known him for years hesitate to approach him. Even other Gryffindors were acting strangely; as if the few short months he'd been away had changed everything.
There was a strange feeling of respect coming from everyone. People much older than Harry treated him like he was above them somehow, or at least their equal. To those he'd shared classes with, he was now someone to look up to, someone whose company was not only appreciated but sought after.
It was worse than anything. The suspicion and the blatant hostility he'd experienced over the years were nothing compared to this adoration.
His gaze met with Cho's. She was sitting with a mixed group of girls from all the Houses, still smiling at something Padma had just said. For a moment, he remembered how it had been to stare at her from afar and hope she would once notice him, or smile at him like that. Now she was more than noticing him, the soft expression on her face almost making him choke.
In his dreams, it would have once been the best thing ever. Here, in reality, he simply wanted to look away and swallow down the nausea that threatened to overwhelm him.
His crush on her had been the first one, the first perfect love that had never gone anywhere beyond wistful thinking. Everything after her had been somehow less, tinted with regrets and memories of less innocent but also less fulfilling moments.
Until...
Shivering, he wondered how much worse it would be now if he didn't have Snape in his life. If this was all the world could offer him.
Random encounters, brief relationships. Those were the only things he could find in a place like this. For a short while, they had seemed like enough, when he'd first lain in the darkness, held in an embrace. The casual touch had chased the loneliness away, even for just a few moments.
It had been fun, he wasn't going to deny that. Learning things about himself and others had been an adventure. The touch of another person was so different from his own hand and shagging had totally swept him away at first.
He couldn't handle that right now, and if he was honest with himself, probably never again. The short term relationships were somehow even worse than being alone, making him feel like crap afterwards.
Maybe his dad had been right about the Potter men.
Harry liked the thought more than he probably should. There had never been a time in his life when he'd had someone to call his own, a person who was essentially just his. Sirius had come closer than anyone else, but their relationship was special in another way. The thing with Snape was different.
He didn't know if it was wise to put all this trust in Snape. There had been others who had promised him so much more than Snape ever had. All he could really trust Snape to do was to be honest with him, to accept him as he was. It was better than any whispered endearments or promises of forever.
Which had always been lies.
Finishing with his beer, Harry allowed Hermione to pull him into the dancefloor. It was a friendship thing; Hermione insisting on dancing with both him and Ron and he trying hard not to step on her toes.
At least this wasn't formal like the Yule ball. The floor was so full of people no one could see him stumble and flail like a loon.
He had to admit that this wasn't horrible, even though it would be more fun if people didn't crowd him or 'accidentally' grope him. The heat and the beat of the music only seemed to add to the groping, and the fact that most people seemed to be at least half drunk didn't really help.
Harry escaped to the loo a bit later, glad that there didn't seem to be a long line outside the men's room like there always seemed to be outside the ladies' room. It saved him from more groping, but he did have an uncomfortable moment inside the restroom with Justin Finch-Fletchley, who wanted to give him a blowjob in the stall for old time's sake.
"And this is my wonderful world now." Muttering it under his breath, Harry returned to his table.
He didn't like to be surrounded by people like this. Even though most of them were familiar to him -- some even friends -- he didn't like to be in a crowd. Everyone seemed to think they had the right to talk to him or touch him as if the concept of personal space didn't apply to him.
They all seemed to want to possess a part of him, even for a little while and it was suffocating him. He didn't want anything like this; it was intrusive, almost taking his breath away.
He closed his eyes for a moment, trying to block all the looks. It didn't really help. He could still feel people watching and wished once again he was safely away in the dungeons.
Another beer was placed in front of him, and even though he did smile at Madam Rosmerta who'd delivered it personally, he didn't really drink it. Getting drunk and making a fool of himself didn't sound like a good plan, especially since he could be certain a picture of him would end up on the front page of tomorrow's papers with less than flattering headlines.
He simply sat there, holding the large pint between his palms, staring into the dark brown liquid. Smiling weakly whenever someone came to ask him to dance and refusing politely.
The band took another break. Harry waited for a few minutes, trying to see where his friends were and then got up. It seemed to take forever to reach the bar, with half drunken people everywhere trying to get his attention.
At least his friends were in a better shape. He did hide a smile at Hermione's loud giggles, but was glad that she was having a good time.
"Harry!" As usual, it was Terry who noticed him first.
Turning around, Hermione looked puzzled as she saw Harry. "What's wrong?" She didn't think he looked too good.
"Nothing." Everything. "I'm just tired, I guess." It was true on every level.
Fortunately a yawn escaped him as Ron opened his mouth to say something. This way they could see that he wasn't simply using it as an excuse.
"I'm going home." Harry was too tired to really moderate his voice, sounding just as weary as he felt. "You can stay if you want to. Wouldn't want to spoil your night."
Ron shook his head. "I'll come with you." There was no real point in staying here anyway. His plan to forget about certain things wasn't really working, and he was sure he'd have to be completely drunk to achieve his goal.
Not a good idea, considering that the few times he'd been sloshed had ended with him doing weird things. He didn't want to make a fool out of himself now, or later at their house where there were even more opportunities to act brainlessly.
They left together after making Terry Boot promise he'd escort Hermione home later on. It was clear from Hermione's expression that she didn't think she needed an escort, but fortunately there was so much noise they didn't really hear a word of what she mumbled.
It was a short walk from the Three Broomsticks to their house, and Harry was grateful that the streets of Hogsmeade were practically deserted at this time.
"So I guess you hated it." Seeing the questioning look on Harry's face, Ron added, "The whole thing; spending the evening out."
Harry shook his head. "No, I didn't hate it. Liked the band and the beer wasn't bad." It was an old joke and he was glad that Ron remembered it and shared the smile. "But you know, I'm not really comfortable in a crowd like that."
"But there's always a... oh. I see what you mean." Ron didn't really understand the whole thing, being raised in a huge family. There had always been a crowd. Maybe it was different with Harry.
Glad that he didn't have to explain it more, Harry didn't say anything, simply walked a bit faster. It was really good that their house was so close, he didn't like walking here practically in the middle of the night.
Neither he nor Ron was surprised to see the light still burning from the living room window.
"You know, that's kind of nice." Grinning at Harry, Ron pointed at the window as they walked to the door. "Sirius really is a mother hen." He didn't think it was actually a bad thing.
Harry smiled at that. "Yeah, he is." He wondered just how long would his godfather have waited until he'd gone out looking for him. If they had stayed out until the early hours, they would have probably seen a black dog sniffing around the streets when they came back home.
The house was quiet and no one came to greet them as they took off their shoes in the hall. Raising an eyebrow at Ron, Harry made a gesture towards the living room and the two of them sneaked silently to see if there was anyone waiting there.
"Hello boys." Mouthing the words silently, Remus looked up from the book he'd been reading. The reason for his soft smile was quite evident. Sirius was fast asleep on the couch, his head resting in Remus' lap. "Did you have fun?"
Ron nodded. "Yeah." It had been okay.
"Yes." It was clear that Harry was getting better with the lies. This one came out easily, mainly because right now he was kind of happy. Happy to be away from the crowd again.
"Good." Nodding carefully so that he didn't jolt Sirius' head, Remus asked, "And Hermione?"
"She stayed there with Terry." There was a world of innuendo in Ron's voice, but the smile he flashed was not an evil one. "Don't worry, he'll get her home safe."
Remus seemed to accept that, leaning slightly back. It looked like he was perfectly willing to stay here until the last one of them was safely under this roof.
"I think I'll go to bed. Harry, you coming?" Even though they had separate bedrooms now, the question was still instinctive. Sometimes Ron almost forgot they weren't sharing the dormitory anymore.
"No." Grabbing the first piece of paper from the table, barely even looking at it, Harry muttered to Ron, "I still need to catch up on the paperwork." It didn't sound convincing even in his own ears. "See you in the morning." With that he sat down.
Ron opened his mouth to protest, but then he saw the relaxed way Harry was curling on the chair. He realized that maybe he just wanted to sit here with Sirius and Remus. That was fine by Ron. "Yeah. Sure. Good night, Harry."
"Night, Ron."
Harry was glad Ron hadn't asked any questions. It didn't look like Remus objected his presence either; he just looked at him a moment longer and then returned to his book.
He didn't want to go to bed yet, the solitude of his room feeling about as appealing as the crowd back at the Three Broomsticks.
This was nice. It wasn't really quiet, with the sound of heavy breathing and pages being turned; both familiar to Harry by now. He was slowly relaxing, and as he sank deeper to the chair, he realized just how tense he'd been all evening.
His back felt like he'd been carrying heavy cauldrons around all day. He'd be damn sore tomorrow.
There was nothing in the reports he really needed to read, and it was too late for him to really concentrate on anything right now. Still, he sat here.
It was undoubtedly the best thing that had happened today.
Watching Sirius cuddle closer to Remus brought a wistful smile to Harry's lips. He was glad his godfather was finally having some peace in his life, but seeing Sirius like this made him inevitably think about what he didn't have. The truth was that no matter how the adoring crowd annoyed him and the emptiness in his bedroom made him miserable, basically he simply missed Snape. Missed their conversations, or just the silence between them. It had been a terribly long time since he'd had any chance to be alone with him instead of seeing him across a crowded room.
He had never allowed himself to really pay attention to the horrible void of loneliness before it had been gone. Now it nagged at the edge of his consciousness. All the time.
A soft whimper came from Sirius, pulling Harry out of his thoughts, and was soon followed by other similar sounds. For a moment, Harry wondered if there was something wrong with his godfather. Then he saw the way he twitched in his sleep. Of course. He was dreaming.
It made Harry wonder how the Animagi dreamt. Was Sirius dreaming of ordinary human things, or was his dreamscape Snuffles' playground? Maybe he could one day ask.
Remus turned the page, gaze focused on the text he was reading. His free hand came to rest on Sirius' chest, moving in slight circles, a soothing caress. It seemed like the movement was totally involuntary, like he was reacting to a sound that spoke straight to his instincts.
Trying not to laugh out loud, Harry turned his gaze back to the report. He wondered just how often had his godfather spent his evenings as Snuffles, sleeping next to Remus while Remus scratched his belly.
Probably more often than they could count.
The lines on the page were becoming blurry, and Harry lowered the paper o his lap. He'd just close his eyes for a moment. He wasn't really tired, but his eyes were itching, and the darkness sort of helped.
It had been such a damn long day. A damn long week, really. He wasn't even sure what day it was, for it made no real difference. The Order worked seven days a week, some of them probably concentrating on reports and details during all possible hours.
He wished he could really think of the meetings and the reading as work, but it was so overwhelming it was becoming his whole life. There wasn't anything he could really do about it. He had nothing else to concentrate on.
At least it would keep him too busy to spend any real amount of time being maudlin.
Hearing a rustling sound, Harry opened his eyes to glance at Remus. He saw that Sirius was slowly waking up, stretching his arms above his head. Instead of getting up, he reached out with his hand and gently trailed over one of the scars running down Remus' face with a finger.
Harry closed his eyes again before they could see he was watching.
He was glad Sirius had someone like Remus. It was good to see them like this, when they dropped the pretense of simple friendship, even if just for a moment. Harry had heard how some of the older members of the Order whispered from time to time and understood at least a few of the reasons for their need for privacy. The troublemaker and the intellectual. The escaped prisoner and the werewolf. He didn't know what other comments had driven the secrecy this far, but could relate to them.
It didn't matter that they didn't want to really acknowledge what they had to anyone as long as they felt like they could act normally in their own home.
But even as Harry enjoyed watching the obvious love between those two, every tender gesture made him miss such a connection more. For once, it didn't make him feel annoyed, but simply wistful; remembering casual, simple touches and the silence that didn't feel strained.
Good memories of time spent with Snape were slowly lulling him closer to sleep.
"Harry?" Sirius whispered carefully. "Are you still awake?"
Smiling, Harry muttered, "Yeah, I'm awake." Once again it felt like a half-truth at best. He blinked owlishly at Sirius, wondering why he just smiled at him in response and shook his head.
He ignored it, letting his eyes close slowly. The papers he'd been holding were falling on the floor, but he didn't really care. The chair was nice and soft and with Sirius watching over him he felt safe enough to drift away.
Part 17 Sleeping in the chair hadn't been one of Harry's best ideas. Unlike some enlarged chairs he could mention, the one in his living room had been extremely uncomfortable and hard. It didn't matter the damn thing looked nice.
Trying to stretch the tension away from his shoulders, he looked around the Entrance Hall, sighing as he saw people milling around aimlessly again.
He didn't know when this would end. They were all waiting for things to start happening, but no one seemed to be able to sit and wait.
Everyone was gathering here at Hogwarts, small groups of people talking about the war together or simply sharing ideas.
Harry didn't really wonder why. He didn't like waiting either.
Still, he would have rather stayed home going through the vast amount of old books that had been delivered at their doorstep early this morning. Remus had been overjoyed to see them, spreading books all around the living room and disappearing between the musty pages as soon as they'd finished breakfast.
Reading about dark creatures would definitely be easier than this. Harry shook his head. He was certain Sirius would have preferred coming with him, but since the Death Eater operation with magical beings was still his main focus, he'd stayed behind with Remus.
Harry was actually glad he had. Ron and Hermione -- and of course Malfoy, who seemed to be happy to trail after them quietly -- were with him, and there would be nothing to worry about inside Hogwarts' walls. Besides, having Sirius stay away postponed a scene Harry really didn't wish to witness right now.
He smiled just a little as he stepped into the Great Hall and immediately spotted both Dumbledore and Snape, the two wizards standing together and talking quietly.
Maybe this wasn't going to be such a bad day after all.
"I'm going to talk to Terry," Hermione muttered, looking at her friend who had definitely not used any kinds of hangover cure potions this morning.
Ron nodded after casting a look around the Hall and seeing none of his brothers here today. "Okay. I'll come with you."
They'd been talking about some intriguing ideas last night, and he wanted to go through some of the things with Terry again.
After one hesitant glance at Harry, Draco trailed after them. He didn't think his company was wanted, and since professor Snape was with Dumbledore and Blaise was nowhere in sight, he should just try to find a dark corner and stay there.
Harry watched his friends go. There were things he wanted to talk about with Hermione and Ron, and even with Malfoy, but he didn't think this was the time or the place.
Too many people here.
He nodded slightly at those who called out his name, but didn't stop to talk to anyone. When people realized he was walking towards Dumbledore, they didn't even try to approach him.
It was an odd sort of relief.
"Good morning, Harry. Good to see you."
Smiling at Dumbledore, Harry nodded. "Headmaster. Snape." Facing just the two wizards, he let the smile broaden.
"Potter," Snape muttered, his expression haughty. "I see that unlike most of the teenagers, you didn't spend the whole night partying."
Harry wondered if his face would split from the smile. "Not really my style. I much rather spend the night in quiet company." He barely managed to swallow the descriptions of said company, certain that Snape wouldn't want him to say it in front of Dumbledore.
As expected, his words were followed by a raised eyebrow, but some of the haughtiness seemed to disappear from Snape's face.
Not that it probably meant anything, but Harry chose to feel good about it anyway.
"Severus and I were just talking about the projects in Hogsmeade," Dumbledore stated as if he'd completely missed the looks and the lessening of tension. "I do think Mr. Zabini will be able to move into his own apartment soon."
That was certainly good news.
Of course there were more. The plans they had for the small village were rather extensive, and Dumbledore seemed to enjoy outlining the ideas once more, repeating things they had talked about half a dozen times already.
Harry didn't mind. There were worse ways to spend the day.
Even with his attention on Dumbledore, Harry couldn't help being aware of Snape's presence by his side. He had to concentrate on standing still, otherwise he would have swayed closer to Snape.
An evening spent drinking had definitely been a bad idea. All that damn wallowing made him want to go to Snape and now was not the time for that.
He didn't say anything, he simply hung on the edge of the conversation, enjoying the nuances of Snape's voice as he commented on Dumbledore's plans. He liked the sound of Snape's voice; the sarcastic quips and dry wit delivered smoothly.
He could listen to it all day long and it didn't even matter what Snape was saying. He could lecture about Potions or read from the Daily Prophet for all he cared. Even now most of the things he said didn't register.
Harry was more interested in the way he talked.
He cast a look at Snape's lips and then couldn't take his gaze away. Concentrating on every moue was simply too fascinating.
It was a familiar sight, and he realized he could tell Snape's mood by simply looking at the way he pursed his lips together.
He was lost in the memories of seeing those lips twist into a sarcastic sneer whenever he said something foolish, the expression never really changing even though there was no malice in the black gaze these days. Sometimes when Snape was relaxed, there were softer imitations of the sneer, even almost-smiles.
Closing his eyes for a moment, Harry tried to stop thinking about Snape's lips or any other body parts right now. This was important.
He was going to have to do something about this. Missing Snape's presence was already pulling his attention away from all the other important things, and he couldn't afford that. Maybe he could stay for tea or something after the day's meetings. Just to spend some time alone with Snape.
Not to have sex, but simply to sit there in the dungeons and feel Snape next to him. Watching him relax slightly, feeling his skin brush against his and who was he trying to convince he wasn't going to have sex with the man anyway?
It was not exactly a good thought for the moment, but Harry couldn't help lingering on the yearning no matter how silly it was.
Professor Flitwick joined them, his eyes bright as ever and his whole being shivering with nervous excitement. Harry tore his attention away from Snape, glad of the distraction, and forced himself to listen as the Charms professor talked about all the inquiries the former members of his House had sent him these past few days.
That was actually intriguing. As far as Harry could tell, the Order had always stayed in the background, never attracting multitudes of members. Maybe now that would change, and it was not a bad turn.
They needed more people to defeat the Death Eaters.
"I will brew more Veritaserum then," was all Snape said after Flitwick's exuberant report.
Glaring at his colleague who had the audacity to challenge the integrity of his former students, Flitwick bristled for a moment, but then forgot all about House pride and went on describing charms to Dumbledore who listened avidly and nodded every now and then.
Harry fought against the urge to roll his eyes, pressing his lips together as he saw the dark amusement on Snape's face. He was used to that expression by now, having seen it countless of times, especially when Snape commented on his hormonal behavior.
It was definitely best if he concentrated on something else.
He cast a look around the room, seeing no familiar redheads except for Ron. Hoping it wasn't because any bad news from St. Mungo's, Harry focused on his friends, seeing most of his yearmates gathered near the huge windows.
At first it looked like there was some casual discussion about something going on, Ron and Terry Boot talking and gesturing at Hermione who was actually smiling at Blaise Zabini, but it soon became clear that it wasn't exactly a conversation. Harry could tell when Ron was getting upset, and that point was awfully close.
Frowning, he watched Terry's face get redder, and finally the Ravenclaw snapped out something and then walked away in anger.
"Excuse me." He nodded at the professors -- gaze barely lingering on Snape -- and then went to where Ron and the others were standing. "What was that all about?" Raising an eyebrow, Harry stared at the retreating back. He'd never seen Terry act like that before. He was usually very quiet and composed.
Ron shrugged. "I guess he's just a bit edgy."
They all were. It was no wonder.
This waiting was really getting on Ron's nerves. He liked thinking about strategy when it was about wizard's chess or Quidditch, but not when he should be doing something instead of just talking.
He saw Lee Jordan talking to Seamus and Dean, but didn't feel like going to them. His dad was still at St. Mungo's with Bill, working on getting Charlie better, and he didn't want to spend the day talking to anyone about it.
Like he usually did; talking with Harry and Hermione and the others. Talking and doing nothing really serious about this whole damn war. He hated it, needed to be doing something.
At least it looked like today would be slightly different. Dumbledore was walking towards a side door now, casting a look at them. It was like a sign for something important.
It hit Ron that it probably was a sign. Like other knowing looks and twinkling gazes and a hundred other signs he'd missed along the years.
A look at Harry confirmed his suspicions. He was definitely looking more alert now, getting ready to leave the Great Hall.
Crap.
"Are we supposed to stay here while you go to another secret meeting?" Ron hadn't really understood how that still bothered him until he said it out loud. His voice almost dripped with malice.
He didn't even have to see the way Harry flinched to know that he'd guessed it right.
Harry let out a sigh. He could see how it wasn't really necessary to protect his friends anymore. Sooner or later they would all have to hear the truth, and hearing it now might save their lives later on. "No. You're supposed to come with me to a secret meeting." He managed to even smile at the astonishment on Ron's face. With a glance at Hermione and Malfoy, he gestured at the door. "Let's go then."
Surprised that he was included in Potter's gesture, Draco followed the Gryffindor trio in silence.
There were others going to the Headmaster's office, people who hadn't previously been included in these meetings. Harry nodded slightly at the professors who were here for the first time. It was good to have them here.
Ron tried not to gawk at everyone as he quietly followed the others to Dumbledore's office. There were no couches or comfortable chairs there anymore, simply a round table with wooden chairs around it and he sat between Harry and Hermione. Barely noticing where Malfoy was sitting, he looked around, eyes wide with wonder.
They were definitely the youngest people in the room. There was the Headmaster with professor McGonagall sitting near by. Sprout and Flitwick were talking quietly together while Snape settled on the other side of the table, looking as stern as ever.
He seemed to focus his attention on Harry for a moment, and Ron had to bite his lip to stop the grimace from spreading to his face. He did not like seeing Harry relax ever so slightly when he noticed Snape looking at him.
Since there weren't other teachers here, Ron decided that the ones present had to be here because they were all Heads of the Houses. It made sense. He was definitely glad no one had invited Trelawney. The other people in the room looked familiar from the meeting last spring, but he couldn't remember their names.
Maybe he should ask Harry. He certainly looked like he knew everyone here.
"All right then." Leaning back on his chair, Dumbledore adjusted his glasses and cast a knowing look around the room.
Ron felt shivers go down his back as that piercing gaze met him. It suddenly made this real. He was sitting in Dumbledore's office and this was a very secret Order of the Phoenix meeting! It didn't get much more real than this.
Next to him, Hermione was fussing with a quill and a parchment, and Ron wondered if he should take notes as well. This wasn't class, but he could bet this was more important than anything he'd ever been taught in school. Trying to look nonchalant, he rested his elbows on the table and waited for Dumbledore to go on.
Everyone looked ready for some real action. Even Flitwick looked more alert than in ages.
Feeling the slight tension in the pit of his stomach, Harry wondered if it was because of the boredom of the past days. Was he now thrilled because of the chance to actually do something because he really wanted to fight, or was it because anything was better than just waiting?
He cast a brief look at Dumbledore, not at all surprised to see that the old wizard was avoiding his eyes.
"We have gathered here today to make final plans for the training," Dumbledore said without the usual pleasantries.
It was familiar to Harry, but most of the other people were clearly dismayed. There had been no talk of tea, no Sherbert Lemons or other sweets offered. This was simply business.
No one said a thing as Dumbledore once again introduced people to each other, not even smiling at the silliness of calling out the names of the teachers.
Ron was just glad he wouldn't embarrass himself now that he knew for sure that the witch was Figg and the wizard was Fletcher and not the other way around.
"Now that we've taken care of that..." Dumbledore nodded to his side, his expression softening. "Minerva, would you please?"
Looking down at a parchment, McGonagall read out loud, "We already have people focusing on dark creatures that have been shipped to the country by Voldemort's people." Her voice was firm. "Filius is looking into advanced Charms and Severus is working with Poppy to make sure we have as many stealth potions, antidotes and other medicinal brews in store as possible."
The last comment made everyone tense. Talking about healing meant casualties, and even though they had mentioned those previously, it seemed like the thought hit some hard.
Flitwick's brow was creased with worry.
"Our main concern right now is the Order itself. Not only the housing in Hogwarts and secrecy and security, but preparing everyone to what will come."
Muttering quietly, "Finally!" Arabella Figg leaned back on her chair, looking relieved.
McGonagall threw a stern look at her, as if chastising a student in class. The strange thing was that that one simple look made Figg fluster where nothing said in the secret inner circle meetings ever had.
"As I was saying..." McGonagall tapped the parchment. "We have some veterans from the first war, but unfortunately they're in the minority. Most of the adults that have recently joined the Order have at least some extensive training in defense, but the younger witches and wizards need to learn more. Much more than any Defense Against Dark Arts class has covered."
That didn't come as a surprise to Harry. The classes had been difficult, but they had never really dealt with the darkness waiting for them. Voldemort wouldn't send Red Caps to defeat them or use disarming curses.
Dumbledore nodded firmly, casting a knowing look at McGonagall. "We need to have more training for dueling, defense, strategy and basic healing."
The only sound in the room was Hermione's quill scratching on the parchment.
"Yes," McGonagall agreed. "Also, we need to educate people about what really happened, both seventeen years ago and now. There are so many lies told as the truth, and people deserve to know who fought against Voldemort and who betrayed us all."
Harry opened his mouth for the first time, managing a half choked, "Yes." He was so tired of the lies and half-truths, and it was about time they could be open about spies and heroes.
He was glad for Sirius, but knew it would be both relieving and painful to have the tale of Peter Pettigrew out in the open. Not to mention the publicity their own spy would receive once Snape's story hit the news.
A very forbidding glare on Snape's face told that his past had better not become a matter of public interest.
"That will be quite a lot of work." Sprout shook her head slightly, wondering how could they ever organize half of what Minerva had just said. "Do you think we have enough time for all that?"
Looking down at the tabletop, Harry listened half heartedly as Dumbledore listed all the plans they had already made. It was almost like he was living through those small meetings again, carried back in time to when there had been just Dumbledore, McGonagall, Snape and him here, with Figg, Fletcher, Sirius and Remus coming to join them as often as they could.
They had discussed this back then, Dumbledore painting a very realistic picture of the training they would still need. Harry didn't need to hear it again, he already remembered every word.
It was going to be hard work. Probably harder than any one of them could imagine.
Still, Harry was glad they would start to really do things. The more they trained their people, the better their chances were. He was not going to let anyone go into the upcoming fights without real skills to actually fight the enemy.
He could see how their plans made Ron and Hermione stare as the enormity of this whole thing finally hit them. This wasn't like one of their adventures, with swift action and a relatively easy victory. Voldemort wouldn't appear at the gates and challenge him. He couldn't go alone to find the enemy and then challenge Voldemort. This would be a real war.
There would be battles and losses and it would probably take a very long time before they could even begin to plan for peace.
Realization in Malfoy's eyes was not as obvious, but Harry could see that their plans for everything unnerved him as well. He'd really have to sit down with Malfoy soon and talk about the different view they had on things, the concepts that were totally alien to him and as familiar as his own skin to Malfoy.
For the first time he felt a small twinge of regret for all those days he'd spent pushing the whole thing away and spending time in Snape's room at the cottage. They should have talked more about this.
Then he looked at Ron, taking in the absolute shock on his face. No, it would never have worked. Ron was barely able to deal with this when Dumbledore was the one outlining their plans. Harry didn't even want to think about how Ron would have reacted to him or Snape saying the same things.
It looked like some people here were having a hard time listening to the Headmaster.
Professor Flitwick was slowly shaking his head, as if he was finding a huge logic loop in Dumbledore's words. Looking around the table, he waited for there to be a pause in the narrative and then raised his hand slightly, asking for a permission to speak.
"You don't have to do that, Filius," Dumbledore said gently. "If you want to say something, say it."
After a hesitant cough, Flitwick asked, "Are we really talking about a war here? A real war against the Death Eaters?"
From the shock reflected on Sprout's face, Harry realized that even after everything that had happened, after all the things they had already talked about, it was hard for some to understand that this was real.
"Yes." Surprisingly, it was Arabella Figg saying that. She'd been sitting in silence as usual, listening to every word said.
Flitwick stared at her for a moment and then turned back to Dumbledore for a confirmation. "Really?"
"Yes, Filius. We're at war, and very soon, it will become clear to the whole wizarding world." There was a note of finality in Dumbledore's voice.
Wondering what more would their world need, Harry shook his head slightly. Two of his colleagues had been attacked, people were killed and still professor Flitwick hesitated? Was this really how people dealt with a situation like this; hid their heads in the sand and wished it'd all go away?
If people really didn't believe Voldemort was back, how could they ever defend themselves?
"Maybe there will be no more attacks." It sounded almost as if Flitwick was still asking a question.
Harry hated to see the glimmer of hope on some faces. He looked up, waiting for Dumbledore to say something. The solemn expression he saw made him almost choke. Dumbledore was looking at him, waiting for him to tell everyone the absolute truth.
He resented it, wanting nothing more than to leave. But he couldn't move. This was indeed his life now, and like it or not, he was going to have to live it.
Not simply in front of a crowd of strangers, but a small group of people he'd known almost half his life.
"Oh, there will be attacks."
Ron jumped at that. It was the first thing Harry had said loud and clear, and he was shocked to hear the words coming from him. He could see Hermione was equally stunned.
Suddenly looking even smaller than he really was, Flitwick asked again, "Really?"
"They'll come for us." Voice perfectly calm, Harry sat there, not looking at anyone. "Once they make the decision, they will come to kill us. Maybe one house or village at the time, maybe a full blown attack, I don't know. But they will come. Not to conquer or take over. They will come to kill us, and at that point, they're not going to ask who's who. They won't care if they kill Muggles or our troops, students or us. They'll just kill everyone."
He was so tired of everyone thinking this wouldn't be a big deal when it was.
Only Dumbledore and Snape nodded at the harsh words, knowing they were not an exaggeration or a morose figment of Harry's imagination. Neither said aything but simply watched in silence as everyone else gaped in obvious shock.
Minerva McGonagall looked at Harry, her expression hard but her gaze misting over with unshed tears. This was breaking her heart, watching her children grow up too soon. It didn't matter Harry was fulfilling his destiny, he was still too young for this.
"That is correct," Dumbledore nodded finally. Here, with the inner most circle of their Order, they would have to be honest with each other. Hiding from the truth would serve no purpose anymore.
"Lots of people will get killed. It doesn't matter how well we plan or how good we are. People are going to die." Harry raised his gaze for the first time, looking at Ron who was now staring fixedly at the tabletop. "How the hell can we prepare them for that?"
There was a silence, filled with pain and sadness.
"We can't. No one can be prepared for that. But we can prepare our people to fight, and to survive." They did have excellent teachers for that.
Harry looked at Dumbledore, nodding curtly. He knew he was right, but hated the feeling of hopelessness. Everyone in the Order would follow him; through flames and pain, to whatever end. He didn't want to think about what that end would be to most. Facing the Death Eaters usually ended in either death or agony.
His expression didn't waver as he said quietly, "We must be honest with our people about what they are about to face. No more lies. They must all understand what this war means. That Voldemort's people show no mercy. They kill. And if they don't kill immediately..." He couldn't say it after all. "We all know what they do to their captives."
No one seemed to breathe for a moment, the tension in the room palpable. As Dumbledore closed his eyes, Harry was finally able to turn his gaze away. He tried not to look at the others, knowing most would know exactly what he was talking about. Fearing that some might not, and he would have to explain.
Draco watched the older members of the Order, wondering what they were thinking. The teachers he'd seen as fools now looked lost in unpleasant thoughts. He'd never seen such anger in the Headmaster or such pain in the usually so jolly Sprout. It was almost as if they were remembering something.
Tasting bile in his mouth, he turned away from the plump herbologist only to meet professor McGonagall's completely empty gaze.
In all his life, he had never felt himself so small; guilt unlike any he'd ever felt was choking him. He was totally unprepared for this. Gryffindors didn't really matter, teachers didn't matter. His life had always been about power and pride and there was no room for regrets in the world where he'd grown up.
"We know." Snape sounded like he was listing the properties of knotgrass. "But the children might not. Whatever they have heard from the older students or their parents, I doubt it's enough. When their training truly begins, everyone should be informed of what they will be facing. Death and torture. Curses they have never even heard of as well as the cruciatus, beatings, rape..."
Draco flinched at the calmly stated list, still unable to turn his gaze from McGonagall's. There had been terrible knowledge in the blue eyes, of all the things Snape had said.
As the familiar voice continued about the Death Eaters, Draco couldn't help thinking about the moment when he'd seen Mordred swoop down from the rafters with a letter in his beak. He'd read the parchment dozens of times before burning it and destroying all the evidence.
He had known. Not everything, but more than most people in the castle. He'd been well aware of his father's plan to take care of some of the most important Order members and those they loved. The list of names and dates had not been long, and he hadn't really concentrated on them, choosing to angst over the big picture and his own future instead.
No matter what his defection had prevented, it hadn't prevented this one person almost dying. He tried not to think about the other things the Death Eaters might have done, but couldn't help wondering.
What a stupid thought. He knew his father and his friends and how they felt about Gryffindors. They would never have passed such an opportunity. He knew without the shadow of a doubt that they had indeed.
Slowly, he turned his gaze to Potter. Did he know? Did he have any idea of what had really happened to the Head of his House when she'd been away? Draco was certain all the teachers at least suspected. But did Potter or his friends know?
He noticed how Potter was sitting completely still, his hand squeezed into a fist. On his side, Weasley was staring with his eyes wide, mouth slightly open.
Draco swallowed. The slight movement made the angry green gaze focus on him, and for a moment he and Potter were looking at each other in perfect understanding.
He knew, had known all along. Draco couldn't even begin to comprehend what else Potter might know, what he saw as reality. How the hell could he offer him a place to stay, knowing what his family was like? Not so long ago, Draco had been more than willing to become like that as well. Like his father was, like Snape had been; a monster.
Still looking into Potter's eyes, he understood for the first time why there was no real enmity between them anymore.
With his silly games and comments, he must appear to be a nuisance, but nothing more. There were people who were the embodiment of evil. After facing such people, no wonder Potter wouldn't spend any time worrying about someone like him.
Draco looked away. It was devastating to finally see just how small his part in this whole thing was. Compared to most of these people, he'd seen nothing. He didn't want to think about McGonagall. Didn't want to think about Snape.
But he couldn't keep his thoughts away from them.
How could they sit here and discuss this when all he wanted to do was to run away and hide in shame? He would never understand them, especially Snape who had once been everything he now hated. How could he bear to sit there and talk about these things?
He looked up to see the black gaze focused on him, revealing nothing of what Snape was thinking.
"But..." Looking pale with shock, professor Sprout was shaking her head, as if she didn't want to believe what she was hearing. "But surely they wouldn't dare. Not now. The Ministry will..."
"The Ministry will do nothing."
There was an awful silence. Draco cringed, refusing to even look at the Transfiguration professor, keeping his gaze on Snape. He wasn't into praying, but right now he begged to the fates and Merlin and anyone who might listen that no one would ask anything.
Minerva McGonagall's voice was icy cold as she went on, "They will turn a blind eye to evidence and truth and will refuse to listen to anyone who tells them about Voldemort or his people and their atrocities." She paused for a moment. "I know Cornelius, and he will never believe that people who are in high places in our society would ever do such horrible things."
Her words couldn't have been clearer even if she had said names out loud. The flicker of completely uncharactaristic pity in Snape's eyes told Draco that he knew the truth as well.
Fortunately no one tried to argue with McGonagall. A moment later Dumbledore raised the question of training again, and everyone seemed to be relieved by the topic.
No more questions were asked about the need of preparing for a fight.
The plans weren't simple by any means, but the calm way Dumbledore talked about teaching and preparing made everything sound so clear. Only the cold look in his eyes spoke of his true anger, and that was somewhat more frightening than anything.
It was not a discussion. Harry had been a part of so many arguments and planning meetings he was actually glad the Headmaster was now stating their plans, not waiting for anyone to say anything intelligent. Everything possible had already been said in this room, over dozens of secret meetings and small gatherings.
No one could pretend this was anything but a war council. Worried and shocked and scared, everyone simply sat and listened.
Harry didn't have to. He knew all this, beyond the things that were said.
As soon as Dumbledore indicated the meeting was over, Hermione stood up and left the room. Her expression was fragile, and no one questioned her as she headed towards the door.
She was soon followed by professor Flitwick who looked like he was going to head straight into his quarters and hide under his bed until the war was over.
Ron was still staring at the people near him, his gaze going from Dumbledore to McGonagall, then to Snape and back to Dumbledore again. He couldn't comprehend most of what had just happened. Sure, he'd heard every word said, but he still couldn't comprehend what they really meant.
He realized he didn't want to be here anymore. This reality of the Order, of the war was too horrible to deal with. Why was he here anyway? Shouldn't his dad be here? Or Bill?
Merlin! He was glad they weren't! He never wanted them to know what he now suspected.
"Harry?" Ron's whisper was frantic. "Do you think that the Death Eaters... That when they had professor McGonagall... That they... They couldn't have, right?" He couldn't be right, because that just didn't happen. Not to old professors, not to someone he cared about.
There was a moment of utter silence before Harry swallowed. "Yes. They probably did." He hadn't asked Snape, and never would. But he did know the reality.
He didn't want to think about it, but seeing the bewildered look in Ron's eyes forced him to sit here and discuss the matter. At least Ron was asking him and not Hermione. He had seen her hurry out of the room when their meeting was over. There was no way she could handle talking about this.
Draco slammed the door shut behind him and walked away. He didn't want to hear Potter explain his friend that the Death Eaters probably had. Didn't want to see the way Weasley would crumble at the words and be reminded of other Weasleys that were dead. He certainly didn't want to hear the name that was connected to both acts of violence, the pureblood family pride making him sick for the first time ever.
Inside the Headmaster's office, Ron was not crumbling. He was still staring at Harry, as if his words made absolutely no sense.
"But... Why?" He didn't know if any answer would be enough.
Harry shook his head, hating the way Ron was staring at him. He looked so damn young, too young to know these things, and it didn't matter that Ron was actually months older than he was. "I don't know."
Because they could. Because it was a show of force and contempt and Lucius Malfoy and his cohorts were sadistic bastards who would take pleasure in ravaging and torturing and killing people.
He wasn't surprised when Ron turned his agitated gaze to McGonagall and then flinched as if someone had hit him. However, he was glad that Ron said nothing and simply got up and scurried out of the Headmaster's office.
Harry was pretty sure they would never talk about this again.
It was a relief, for he was feeling too raw to even try to deal with this in a reasonable way.
He walked across the room, reluctantly discarding his earlier plans to stay and spend some time with Snape. The meeting had been draining, for all of them, and he suspected that once in the dungeons he couldn't really leave any time soon. Having Hermione and Ron go home all agitated would alarm Sirius, and whatever the outcome was, it wouldn't be pretty.
Still, he couldn't simply leave.
Since Dumbledore was staring out of a window Harry had never really noticed before and the others were busy trying to get out, Harry tried to be as unobtrusive as possible.
By the table, McGonagall was muttering quietly to Snape who was scribbling something on a parchment. It almost looked like she was keeping herself occupied so that no one could approach her with questions. She didn't need to bother. Everyone was already abandoning the room as if it were on fire.
Snape nodded slightly. "I will get that to you the first thing tomorrow. It's a simple potion, I could make it in my sleep."
"Thank you, Severus." Touching his arm lightly, McGonagall nodded before leaving. There was no answer, not that she had expected one.
Harry had watched the whole thing from the distance, needing a moment with Snape before going home alone again. He was surprised by the professor's gesture, since she never touched anyone anymore. The only exceptions seemed to be Snape and Dumbledore.
Was it because it had been Snape who had finally rescued her? He had no idea. He wanted to ask, but didn't know if he really should. He didn't want to remind Snape of that night.
"Was there something you wanted, Potter?" Collecting his parchments, Snape cast a glare at Harry. He didn't think he would do anything stupid with people still in the room, but one never knew with the Gryffindors.
The familiar tone made Harry smile wistfully. "Not really. I just..." Realizing he couldn't say anything about how he missed Snape and how he would do anything to spend just a little more time with him without sounding like a real wanker, he said instead, "I'm glad professor McGonagall is all right with you."
Right after the words came out, he cursed his stupidity, hearing how they could be interpreted wrong. "I mean, since she obviously doesn't trust people right now." That felt even more stupid to say. A very awkward way to say something he couldn't really put into words.
"How preceptive of you," Snape muttered, looking actually amused instead of angry. Then all amusement disappeared as he added quietly, "Minerva has a very good reason for not trusting people." He had seen the looks on the teenagers earlier and knew Harry was well aware of what he was speaking of.
Harry nodded. "I know." He wished he didn't know, but now that he did, he wanted to thank Snape again for rescuing McGonagall from even more pain and humiliation and a certain death. "Yeah." There were no words enough to show his gratitude, and he doubted any would be appreciated.
Finishing with his parchments, Snape cast another look at him. He wondered what Harry was thinking about right now. Probably about the things they had just said. Even with his insane notions of trust and other emotional things, he doubted Harry had ever really forgot about his past.
It made no real sense, but he didn't want to ask for Harry's reasons. They would probably be foolish and based on intuition anyway, but something compelled him to say, "She has nothing to fear from me. I have never..." He fell silent. No, he had never felt the need to explain his past to Harry and would not do so now.
Without other words, he squeezed the parchments against his chest and walked away from the table.
The very quiet, "I know," followed him, but he pretended he hadn't heard it. It made no difference what Harry thought he knew, even though there was a very small part of Snape that was actually pleased that he would say that.
Harry let Snape escape, realizing that there was nothing either one of them wanted to say right now. Staying together in a blessed silence was impossible, no matter how he craved it. He'd settle for the second best thing; battered and tired, he felt like he needed a long hot shower followed by a large mug of hot chocolate.
Quite likely a hug from Sirius.
There were still people milling around in the hallways, but Harry paid no attention to them. After talking about the realities of the very ugly war waiting for them, he didn't want to stay here and talk about trivialities. He could see that Ron and Hermione hadn't waited for him, but Draco Malfoy was standing in the shadows of the Entrance Hall. Once again there was no arrogance in his posture, only tired sadness, and that was the one thing that made Harry walk to him.
"Are you going back home?" Harry asked quietly.
Draco nodded, keeping his gaze down. He didn't know what to expect, but he was certain he wouldn't like it.
To his surprise, Potter didn't say anything. He simply joined him on the way back to Hogsmeade, strangely relaxed to walk next to him.
There were other people on the road, but Draco didn't pay attention to them, not even when there was a flurry of action as a flock of hungry looking reporters descended upon them.
It was good to walk in silence; there was nothing to say anyway. For the first time Draco was actually grateful of Potter's discretion and wasn't sure if he should be pleased or annoyed by it. He chose simply to enjoy it, enjoy the silence that was so much better than accusations or questions.
The two older Gryffindors were waiting for them in the living room, both looking worried. Apparently both Weasley and Granger had come home in shock, and they were now anxious to coddle Potter.
Draco ignored Black, who was completely focused on Potter anyway, and Lupin's knowing glances. He simply walked up the stairs to his room.
No amount of coddling or soft words would make him feel any better right now.
Instead of looking for comfort, he wanted to go to Weasley, to pick a fight or yell at him, shag him, whatever it took to get a reaction from the annoying man and lose himself in whatever emotion that wasn't pain.
Yet the same time, the mere thought of touching Weasley in any way made him physically ill.
He didn't want to think about Gryffindors. Or sex. Definitely not sex with Gryffindors. They all should curse him and his name anyway.
Slamming his door shut behind him, he squeezed his hands into fists so hard that he could feel his nails bite into the soft skin on his palms. The pain was a surprising thing, a strangely good feeling that could never compete with the ache inside but was somehow able to dull it.
He would not waste one more moment thinking about what had or may have happened to anyone. He hadn't done monstrous things, he wasn't a monster, though some people would undoubtedly see him as such.
It was pointless to wallow in this ridiculous guilt! Nothing in his power could change what had happened. He was not to blame for things others had done and damn it he was not going to let his mind linger on thoughts that said otherwise.
Grasping the oldest, deepest notion he had buried into his mind so firmly he didn't have to even think about to summon it, he disregarded the hollow feeling inside and repeated to himself quietly, "I'm a Malfoy, the heir of my House and no matter what, I'm going to act like one!"
That meant he couldn't show any weakness. No matter what happened from now on, he could take it. After all the shocking things he'd had to witness by now, nothing would break him.
Absolutely nothing!
Ignoring the dirty feeling he'd had ever since he'd looked into McGonagall's eyes, he straightened his robes, head held up high.
Part 18 There was no happy small talk during the breakfast the next day.
Not that it surprised Harry. He wasn't in the mood for talking with anyone, and he was the one who'd been prepared to hear all the awful truths. The only thing that actually surprised him was the fact that they were all able to come downstairs for breakfast and no one had exploded yet.
It was probably just a matter of time, but Harry wished he didn't have to witness whatever happened when the silence got too much.
He sipped his tea half heartedly, not noticing the taste.
As the house elves finally cleaned up the table, Crookshanks left his place at Hermione's feet and followed Eppy to the kitchen, holding his tail high as he seemed to wobble just as slowly as she did. He'd taken an instant liking on Eppy. For what reason, no one really knew.
Harry suspected it had something to do with the fact that Eppy had an unlimited access to their food supply.
Too bad it wasn't as simple with people as well. Not even the best chocolate in the world could distract him long enough to stop him thinking about the war.
He was more than familiar with people trying to cope with things they didn't want to see or hear, and it wasn't a big surprise to see Hermione fuss with her breakfast or Ron glance around every five seconds as if he was expecting something to attack him.
It was however slightly odd to see Malfoy look as aloof as he had back in school, when he had been the leader of the young Slytherins. Everything was in place; the slick hairdo, the completely emotionless stare. Only the smirk slipped every once in a while, turning into something akin to a grimace.
Harry noticed Remus casting a worried glance at Malfoy, but hoped he wouldn't interfere. He doubted Malfoy could actually deal with talking right now. Not if he didn't go looking for someone to listen.
He just wondered if Malfoy would be completely insufferable for days now.
It wasn't actually surprising that Malfoy would do this after yesterday's meeting. It wasn't better than the groveling at the cottage, and Harry was sure it was about as genuine as the spineless act he'd tried back then.
Somehow it made him think of the countless nights when he'd padded across the hallways back in Hogwarts, wearing the Invisibility cloak over his pajamas. He had been so lost back then, trying to find a way out of all the misery, and it felt like Malfoy was trying to find his way now as well.
He didn't think Malfoy's search would be any easier than his own had been.
Remus made a gesture at Sirius and the two of them excused themselves, clearly going back to the books.
Seeing the door close behind the two older Gryffindors seemed to make Malfoy relax a little. Harry wasn't surprised. He doubted Malfoy was ready for more personal revelations or quiet time with any of them. Not after yesterday.
He pretended not to look up as Malfoy left the room. It wasn't his place to shake him and tell him to drop the act; Malfoy would have to figure that out himself.
Sighing, Harry grabbed a piece of chocolate from the bowl Remus had left on the table and concentrated on the taste melting on his tongue.
"So... Are we going to Hogwarts today?" Ron sounded like he didn't really want to go. He didn't look at Hermione either, clearly not wanting to see the expression on her face.
Harry nodded. "We'd better. I want to talk to Dumbledore about actually starting the training. We've already wasted enough time talking..." He left it hanging, not wanting to say they'd been talking about nothing of importance.
Before anyone could comment on his tone, he excused himself and went to the loo. It was as good an excuse as any, and he bet no one would return to the previous topic when he came back.
Walking to the hallway, wiping his still wet fingers on his robe, he stopped as he saw Ron pace by the front door, waving his hands in the air and muttering curses. Hermione was right there beside him, looking irritated.
There was a sound of almost hysterical laughter coming from the living room.
"What is it?" Looking from Ron's livid face to Hermione, Harry wondered what could have happened in the five minutes he'd been gone.
Ron refused to say anything, he just waved his hands in the air again, shaking his fist at something invisible.
"It's..." Sighing, Hermione raised the day's Daily Prophet so that Harry could see. There was a huge black and white photo on the front page, two very familiar young men.
Harry let out a groan even before reading the text screaming above the picture. His own face greeted him with a wink, Malfoy standing next to him, looking as expressionless there as in reality.
At the background, Ron was muttering curses.
Obviously embarrassed, Hermione pointed at the header saying, 'The Boy Who Lived and his Saucy Slytherin Sweetheart'. "The article is about as discreet as that says. All about our lives here in Hogsmeade. They even got some parts right. Not the parts about you and Malfoy, though." There was actually a faint flicker of amusement in her gaze.
"What?" Hands almost grabbing the paper, Harry stilled and then simply stared at the article. He didn't want to read it, but couldn't tear his gaze away.
He and Malfoy? Sweethearts? No wonder Sirius was still laughing behind the closed living room door, sounding like he was choking in glee.
Why was everyone so damn enthusiastic about pairing him up with Malfoy? First Remus, now this. Had anything in their long acquaintance ever even hinted that they'd be anything but enemies?
Harry couldn't understand the whole thing. Not that he really understood the mutual hatred and lust that was sometimes kind of obvious between Malfoy and Ron either, but there had never been any lust between him and Malfoy! Even though Malfoy wasn't a complete bastard anymore, he was definitely opinionated and often malevolent. Not that those traits couldn't be damn attractive, but... just no. Not on Malfoy.
He rubbed his forehead and then chuckled helplessly. "Boy did they get that wrong." It was absurd.
His words did nothing to calm Ron down.
Neither he nor Hermione said anything about it on the way to Hogwarts. When Terry Boot joined them on the short walk, she pulled him to the side and whispered to him for a while, obviously telling him not to comment on the lies in the article.
Harry didn't really care of what Terry or anyone else thought. After the initial laughter, he was now bristling with annoyance. It didn't matter that the whole thing wasn't true, the idiots at the Daily Prophet had no right to write about his life like that.
Not even if it had been true.
He could see most people had read the articles, judging by the odd looks and whispers that followed him through the castle grounds and into the school.
Even his former housemates seemed way too interested in the whole thing, Seamus and Dean staring at him in a slight shock and Lavender and Parvati giggling in a corner. Harry chose not to pay any attention to them.
There were however those whose opinion mattered.
Seeing disapproval on professor McGonagall's face was somehow warming, especially when it didn't seem to be aimed at him. Dumbledore's twinkling gaze was as exasperating as always.
Harry had to take a deep breath before he moved his gaze to the man standing next to the Headmaster.
He couldn't decipher Snape's expression at first, the obsidian gaze revealing absolutely nothing. He could however see the slightly crumpled Daily Prophet on the floor next to the man and wondered if he found the whole thing as irritating as he did.
Casting a look at the newspaper, he then rolled his eyes, trying to convey the absurdity of it all without words.
To his amazement, Snape's expression thawed immediately into a very evil smirk, the blank look in his eyes turning into a glitter of malevolent amusement.
Harry made a face. So Snape thought this was funny? He wasn't really surprised.
He didn't want to sneak around in the shadows, but seeing how this stupid rumor made everyone act weirdly chilled him. If the thought of him seeing Draco Malfoy shocked everyone like this, how would it be if people knew the truth? Snape's earlier words came to his mind as clearly as he'd heard them a moment ago. The famous Harry Potter can't be with a former Death Eater.
"I hate this!" Hissing it under his breath, Harry glared at Snape and then turned away before he could say anything else. He wasn't mad at him, he was mad at their whole world.
He was also mad at how big a deal this was. People were interested in his sex life when no one paid attention to the very real war that was upon them. This was eating away the more important things, his private actions somehow larger than matters of life and death.
After yesterday's meeting and the following shock to his two best friends, he didn't want to deal with something like this.
Whispers all around him. Even Sprout was looking at him all askew, as if she couldn't understand him right now. It was somehow sickening; as if she was already over her shock and moving on.
It wasn't completely fair to hate people for hiding from things that were too big to deal with, but Harry still resented the stares and the whispers. His life had been like this all along, and he wished nothing more than to be away from the maddening crowd, somewhere he could find peace.
The whispers stopped for a moment as Malfoy stepped into the room.
Harry sighed as he saw the familiar sneer on his lips. That would definitely not help. Indeed, the whispers were starting again, this time louder than just a moment ago.
Slightly shocked by all the attention but not showing it, Draco cast a furtive look around the room. It didn't seem that people were about to attack him for the rumors, but one never knew what was going to happen when Potter was involved.
He could see that there was annoyance in Potter's eyes, but it didn't feel like it was focused at him. For some strange reason it was a complete relief. Draco didn't mind the blatant anger on Weasley's face. Weasley was always angry at him, nothing new there.
Anger was a good emotion. It was better than the foolish regrets and guilt and other insane things that could still haunt him.
Such a Gryffindor thing, really. He'd noticed that Potter liked to wallow in all the things he couldn't change, and decided not to follow his example. It was a waste of time. He was a Malfoy. Malfoys did not wallow.
There was a flurry of action at the door, and people moved away to make way for the small group of reporters. They were rarely seen here so openly, usually just one or two wizards hanging outside the door with a quill in hand and a camera hanging around his neck.
Now it almost looked like they were expecting a press release of some kind. Not about the Order and their plans but about something far more interesting.
Harry turned slowly to watch the reporters flock inside the Entrance Hall, still unable to really comprehend that they had the audacity to do this. To his knowledge, there had been no real stories about the deaths -- aside from those laying the blame on Dumbledore -- or the Order meetings. Would they possibly dare to come here for this?
Apparently they did.
One of the reporters spotted him and called out, "Mr. Potter!" The others were quick to follow her lead.
For a moment the room was filled with excited babble. Then a silence fell as Harry stood there, looking slightly disgusted. Everyone wanted to hear the questions, and more importantly, the answers.
"Mr. Potter, there have been allegations in the Daily Prophet..."
Harry glared at the reporter, his expression astonishingly familiar to anyone who'd ever taken Potions at Hogwarts. "Unfortunately I don't have the time to read such... fabrications." His voice clearly showed his disgust.
That of course sent dozens of people into a frenzy. A few tried to ask him to be more specific about his criticism while others yelled out loud the questions about him and Malfoy. A small group from the Daily Prophet was looking at him with open hostility they hid as soon as they realized people were watching.
Waiting for the storm to calm a bit, Harry sighed. He should have known this would happen. "All right! I get the point. You think I'm seeing Malfoy?" Even after actually seeing the headlines, he still couldn't keep his shocked amusement hidden.
One of the witches from Witch's Weekly raised her hand. "So you're saying it's only a rumor?"
There was an expectant silence.
Harry turned to look at her. The eager look on her face -- mirrored by those all around her -- made him slightly sick. "I'm not saying anything. My personal life is my own. It's not up for general discussion. Not now, not ever."
"So you're not denying it either?" It seemed to be very important to the witch that he answered that. When only a silence followed her question, she added, "The people want to know."
That was something Harry had never understood. Why would anyone care? "Why?" So that they could marvel at his life? Or that people could harass him more?
His question was clearly so prepostrous everyone chose to ignore it. Following the life of the Boy Who Lived had been a part of good journalism for seven years now, people simply wanted to know! "Mr. Potter, how do you respond to the suggestion that you may prefer wizards to witches?"
Harry had lots of things to say about that, but he knew that nothing would make any difference. "It's still my personal business. Now if you'll excuse me..." With that, he pushed his way through the crowd.
Hermione looked at him worriedly while Ron was obviously having problems keeping his expression straight. "Are you all right?"
"No." Shaking his head slightly, Harry glared at the group of reporters who were all muttering and staring at him. Fortunately they were staying at the doorway. He didn't know what he'd do if one more idiot tried to approach him about this matter right now.
"You know..." Hermione bit her lip, but decided to say it anyway. "It wouldn't be such a bad thing to say that you actually like wizards as well. Not everyone in the wizarding world is as open minded as we are."
"No."
"I know you don't like the attention." It simply didn't make sense to Hermione. She had spent the past year setting an example for the younger students at Hogwarts. Harry could do so much good with just one simple comment about life. Didn't he see it? "But people look up to you and showing them it's all right would make a difference."
"I refuse to be the Gay Icon of the wizarding world." Harry hated that. More titles and names heaped on him. He didn't want to be a celebrity, not because of the war, not because something like this. "I want to live my life, not be some kind of an example."
Hermione frowned. "But some people need..."
"If people need my permission to be gay or whatever, then our world is lost already!" It came out more angrily than Harry intended.
None of the three said anything for a long moment. Harry felt bad for snapping at Hermione, but he wasn't going to apologize. Still trying not to show his disgust at this whole thing, Ron just kept hovering next to Hermione, casting furtive looks around the hall.
"I'm sorry."
Harry hated the fact that he'd been quiet and forced her to actually say it first. "Yeah, and I'm sorry for snapping at you."
That brought a small smile on Hermione's face. "I know. But you were right. It's none of my business, really."
"Yes it is. You're my friend, Hermione, and it is your business whether or not I'm seeing someone. It's just not theirs." Harry's gesture was mostly aimed at the reporters still massing at the doorway.
Hermione looked like she wanted to say more, but in the end she simply nodded. "Okay."
"It's not that I want to hide. It's not. But if I give them one answer, they'll have a thousand other questions ready and it'll never end."
Harry didn't want to spin a web of lies, knowing he couldn't answer all the questions truthfully, and to be quite honest, he didn't think he would even if he could. This was his life, the one thing he really had for himself and he wasn't going to share it with people he didn't even know.
Noticing that the reporters were now turning to harass Malfoy, he wondered for a moment what the Slytherin would say. Then he discarded the worry. Malfoy wasn't a complete moron. He wouldn't say anything that would get him hexed.
"Mr. Malfoy!" Quills ready, the witches and wizards descended on Draco like a flock of dragons. "Care to comment?"
"On what?" Raising his eyebrow slightly, Draco kept a cold stare on the reporters, almost daring them to utter their nonsense again.
"On the allegations that you are seeing Harry Potter of course!"
It was quite incredulous some people couldn't understand the concept of contempt or sarcasm. "Oh. That."
Mutters and nods echoed in the room as a reply to the barely patient huff.
Draco sneered. "Do you honestly think I would associate myself with someone like Potter?" His voice held a hint of outrage.
There was an absolute silence. A few of the reporters stared with their mouths hanging open. No one had ever talked about Harry Potter like that. They all worshipped or doubted him, but everyone wanted to be associated with him somehow.
"It would not be proper for me to be involved with someone of his... background." There was finality in Draco's voice. He had spent months perfecting the cool aloofness once his voice had finally stopped moving from a deep baritone into a quite embarrassing falsetto between words. The tone sounded completely natural.
"Mr. Malfoy, do you mean that you hold his parentage against him?" one of the reporters asked, the question starting out quite firmly and then dying out as he seemed to realize how foolish it sounded.
Asking a Malfoy if they held the purity of blood important was like asking Minister Fudge on the record if he believed in the importance of all the wizarding laws.
Draco's expression was an answer enough. Not bothering to even voice his thoughts on the question, he turned around -- the very theatrical twirl making his robes billow -- and walked away from the reporters.
Outraged whispers filled the hallway, accompanied by furious scribbling as the Daily Prophet witches and wizards wrote down all the things that had just been said.
There would definitely be an article about this in the papers tomorrow.
The very dramatic exit Draco had planned was somewhat spoiled when he realized he had no idea where to go. He looked around, grimacing when he couldn't see professor Snape or Blaise near by. That meant he would have to stand somewhere all by himself and try to act as if he didn't notice all the glares.
"Malfoy!"
Hearing his name, Draco was slightly shocked to see Potter gesturing at him. He hid his shock well, sauntering towards their great hero with a self confident smirk on his face. "Potter."
He could almost feel all the curious looks on him, but chose to ignore them.
A house elf appeared next to him, holding a tray full of steaming