Harry Potter --Abscondo--High Title: No Hiding Place 5: High in the Sky
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:- It's time to try to save the world. Fools and idiots may be the wizards' only hope. Revenge does indeed taste strange. Kinda furry.
Warning: This part contains deaths, gore, total stupidity, explicit sex between men, disturbing themes and angst.
Betaed by the wonderful Wolfsbride and Ria, with extra help from Jin Fenghuang. Big thanks to Allaire for her suggestions and corrections and to the Hekuna ladies, who were more than patient with me. All remaining mistakes are mine.
No Hiding Place by: Rimau BOOK FIVE
High in the Sky
Part 1
Harry yanked on his sleeves a little nervously; a habit he hadn't got over yet even though the sleeves weren't too short anymore. He had to concentrate against fidgeting; it would just make more people stare.
And so many still were, even though all the big revelations were now out in the open, the speeches over and everyone ready to leave whenever they felt like it.
Seemed like no one wanted to leave the Order Headquarters yet. There were too many things to ogle at. Some people were whispering quietly while casting furtive glances at Dumbledore, who was chatting merrily with Minerva McGonagall, turning to look at Harry every once in a while. Most, however, were staring at the man standing next to Remus Lupin who didn't seem to be too pleased to be in the middle of the crowd but stood there nevertheless.
Harry had to smile. His first action as their new leader had been to ask Fudge to sign a pardon for Sirius, and no matter how it had made his stomach turn to see the Minister sign without a word, he was still glad he had this power.
His godfather deserved this; deserved to stand here openly. They all did.
It had also felt so good to be able to do this one simple thing, as if all the heavy decisions and commands that would come might somehow be easier when his first action had been to pardon, not condemn.
There had been curt explanations about Sirius' innocence, Harry once again repeating the story of betrayal. No one had questioned him.
That was probably something he would have to get used to.
"Mr. Potter."
A sarcastic smile flickered on Harry's lips for just a moment and was gone by the time he looked at Minister Fudge. "Minister." He was still not going to play this game with Fudge.
Staring at the astonishingly large crowd, Fudge sighed, the sound of utter defeat. He said quietly, "Your people are surprisingly loyal to you, Mr. Potter." It was exactly as he had feared all along.
Harry shrugged. "They all fight for the common cause." He had to believe that they would still be together even if he was gone. Otherwise the responsibility would paralyze him.
"Oh come now! No need for such false modesty." Fudge could so easily see what this was really all about. What had earlier been two groups of people -- his Aurors and Dumbledore's Order -- were suddenly a united force, Harry Potter's own army. "You know as well as I do that every person in this room would die for you."
Probably without any hesitations too. Some Aurors would die for their Minister no matter what the situation, and most of them would die protecting him, but he knew that he didn't command such loyalty as this young man did. His authority went beyond the Ministry's simply because to the people, he was not an elected leader but a living legend.
Harry could do nothing but nod at that, because he knew it was true. "Yes." To him, the mere thought was nauseating.
He didn't want anyone to die for him, didn't want to be the one to send people towards their deaths. These days, he wished there had been some kind of a prophecy or a charm to bind him and Voldemort in life and death so that no one else would have to die.
It was no surprise to Fudge that Harry would admit it so easily. He'd seen the way the boy had sneakily moved towards the power and the quiet reluctance he tried to project to most of his troops did not fool him for a moment. "So what happens next?"
He didn't believe for a moment that Harry didn't have a plan. The boy and Dumbledore had so clearly plotted this for ages, and he wanted to hear all about it.
Harry was glad he'd changed the subject, not wishing to think about death right at the moment. There would be plenty of time for that later. "We need to deal with the various operations Voldemort has launched already. There are dark creatures being smuggled into the country and people gathering in Voldemort's strongholds and ancient manors, getting ready to fight us. There's the thing with the Dementors. We also need to train our people more. I'm certain the Aurors are more than capable, but we need to make sure everyone can fight and work together as a group."
"Ah, yes." Cataloguing all the possibilities, Fudge focused on the one matter that would really make no difference to him and his position in this new reign. "Training. I have heard about your strategy, and I must say I don't exactly approve."
"You don't approve of training people?" Cursing his own stupidity, Harry tried not to fluster as soon as the words left him. "Or just the curses we are dealing with?"
Fudge shook his head. "The Unforgivables can only be used under strict supervision." It had been possible to avoid this issue until now. But not anymore.
Behind him, Arthur Weasley blinked. He'd been lost in thought before his boss' voice had penetrated his mind.
He could remember squeezing his wand as the masked men had closed in on his home, coming to destroy the only thing that really mattered to him; his family. Professionalism had stilled his instincts, driving him to defend his whole world with simple curses only, but that had been nowhere nearly enough. Seeing the green sparks fly towards his son had changed his life forever. Mind on fire with agony, he'd flung the curse back at the Death Eaters, not caring if they didn't survive their fall.
"I agree." Harry nodded. "That's why we need to supervise our troops while they practice."
It wasn't even said with sarcasm. As far as games for power went, he wasn't going to play anymore. The way their joined forces had cheered him showed quite clearly how this war would be won, and it wasn't under Fudge's command.
He didn't care who got the honor and the glory -- and the blame -- as long as they got rid of Voldemort and his people. If the world remembered Fudge as the heroic Minister during whose era the Dark Lord was defeated, Harry would be perfectly happy.
As long as they actually defeated Voldemort.
Fudge pursed his lips together, but refused to say anything. He wasn't going to start arguing with Harry Potter in front of everyone barely an hour after he'd lost everything.
When it became obvious Fudge wasn't going to comment, Harry sighed. "We also need to concentrate on the people Voldemort relies on." He didn't want to have to say the names again, knowing everyone already knew of whom he was talking about.
"Of course, we have to establish negotiations and..."
Harry couldn't let Fudge continue his sentence. "That will not work, Minister." He couldn't help thinking his words were shattering the last remnants of the walls this man had built between his ideals and the harsh reality.
There was no one to talk to, no one who could stop this. He knew that Fudge had to be thinking about Lucius Malfoy right now and knew that whatever faith the Minister placed on that bastard was unfounded.
"We can not burn the bridges behind us," said Fudge, looking desperate. "Maybe we can avoid an open war. There are reasonable people on both sides."
Harry wished he could believe negotiations would help and that their combined force would be big enough to scare some sense into the most sane of the Death Eaters, but he'd seen too much to believe in their sanity anymore. "I don't believe we can make deals with Voldemort or his people."
"But..." Fudge hesitated. "There are those we have dealt with before. People and... People we've negotiated with before. We don't have to make any definite plans, but we can't be blinded by hostilities either."
It was too hard to hear the desperate hope in the Minister's voice. Nodding, Harry muttered, "All right. Since you are better qualified to deal with such negotiations than anyone here, it would be great if you..."
"Yes, of course." Grasping the hesitant words as they were his last chance to regain some kind of dignity here, Fudge smiled. "That's an excellent idea."
To his shock, Harry Potter added quietly, "But I want you only to open talks with the people you see necessary. Don't make any deals with anyone."
Fudge stood still for a moment, before nodding. "Of course." With a forced smile and a nod, he turned around and walked away.
Tugging his sleeves again, Harry watched him go, wondering what everyone would say if he ran to the nearest loo and threw up. He certainly felt nauseous. But at the same time there was a strange calm over him, the knowledge that this was the way things would be from now on and no matter what he might wish for, his life wasn't going to be quiet again for a very long time.
Hopefully Fudge would come out of his daydreams soon. Until then, he was free to talk to anyone he wanted. Maybe the empty conversations with the enemy would finally force him to open his eyes.
Harry smiled at that, realizing the futile Gryffindor optimism when he saw it.
"What's so funny?"
He turned to look at Ron, the smile still hovering on his lips. "You know... I think there's probably nothing that isn't funny right now." Hysterical even.
The look Ron cast at him spoke volumes.
After a few deep breaths, Harry managed to suppress the insane laughter that tried to bubble out. He didn't really feel like laughing, the situation so far from amusing it almost made him want to weep instead. People would be shocked to hear his thoughts, everyone casting furtive looks at their new leader who was standing there, looking calm and holding steady, just like a proper hero should.
Raising an eyebrow, Ron said, "Some change, eh?" He was still boggled by the reverence people showed to Harry.
"Yeah." It was clear from Harry's sigh that he wasn't exactly happy about the whole thing. "Some change."
Ron didn't like the way Harry looked; as if he was waiting him to say something nasty. It had taken him weeks to get over the whole Triwizard thing and when McGonagall had gone missing, he'd taken out his anxiety on Harry. Not because he was a stupid git, but because it was really hard to understand things when you were kept in the dark.
"You know, it would make things a lot easier if you just told me stuff. I really like to be told, you know." He managed a smile without real effort.
Harry nodded. "I know, Ron. Sorry about that."
"And just so you know... Dad's told me a lot about the Ministry and I know that leading people is hard work. No eternal glory there. I think... I think anyone who'd actually want that job has to be barking mad."
"Thank you for the vote of confidence."
They both grinned at each other, happy that they had managed to deal with it so easily.
"So, what happens now?" Ron bounced on the balls of his feet, ready for some action. "We have an army. Are we going to use it?"
Harry nodded, his expression turning grave. "Yeah. But not yet. We can't battle Voldemort's forces on their turf."
That made sense. Sort of. "Okay. So we finally have the Aurors here and we have you as a leader. Good, everything's brilliant." Even as he said it, Ron knew it was a mistake. Almost like saying things couldn't get any worse.
This time, 'worse' was Snape walking past them, casting a dark glare at Harry before disappearing into one of the smaller rooms.
"I'd better..." Cringing at the mere thought of dealing with Snape right now, Harry gestured at the door.
"Yeah."
Not looking back at Ron, knowing there wouldn't be an encouraging smile on his face, Harry followed Snape, making sure he locked the door behind him before turning to face the man.
It did not look good. Snape was pacing back and forth, his back ramrod straight, hands hidden inside his sleeves. His every fiber screamed the need to be left alone, but Harry knew that wouldn't work. Not with Snape.
Harry knew he had some quick talking to do if he wanted to avoid a fight. Or a freezing silence that would go on forever. "I'm sorry."
Stopping his pacing, Snape turned around and glared. "For what? What would you possibly be sorry for?" He sounded like he had a few suggestions.
"I didn't intend to..." The word 'humiliate' refused to come out. Harry shrugged. "Insult you or anything by talking about the Mark."
He wished Snape would believe him and stop glaring. It was the truth; he never wanted to publicly insult or humiliate Snape. Making comments about his past had been necessary, but he knew Snape wouldn't simply let it go.
Snape snorted. "Your words probably saved my life there." It was said through clenched teeth, and was definitely not meant as a thank you.
"I'm... not sorry for that. For the saving your life part. But the rest of it..." In all honesty, Harry couldn't really say he was sorry for speaking up for Snape either. An old memory from Dumbledore's Pensieve flickered through his mind, and he wondered if anyone had ever said those words so that Snape actually heard them. "Fudge was trying to stir up trouble and I just said the truth."
That seemed to please Snape. "I see." The anger melted away from his stance a bit.
"But I'm still sorry."
Snape stared at him for a moment and then nodded. "Apology accepted." He cast a look at the door. "And no, that was not an encouragement for anything."
"Got it." This was definitely not the time nor the place, Harry agreed. "So, what do you think of Fudge then? He seems okay with the new order, but I can't help wondering..."
"Yes?"
Harry was quiet for a moment, trying to put his gut feeling into words. "He seems to think we can avoid war, even with everything that's happened already. He talks about politics and negotiations... I don't know. I bet he's going to try to talk Voldemort and his people out of the whole thing."
"I see." It wasn't difficult to read beyond Harry's words. "I can guess exactly who he intends to contact first."
"Yeah, so can I."
Smiling sarcastically, Snape said, "If Fudge thinks that Lucius will listen to reason, especially now that their side is stronger than ever, he really is insane."
It was something Harry had to agree with. "I know. He's a bit..." He couldn't find a proper word, but by the nod his words received he knew that Snape knew exactly what he meant. "I just never thought he'd be this desperate."
He had never held much respect towards Fudge. Ever since seeing him for the first time in Hagrid's hut, when he'd come to take Hagrid away, Harry had seen the Minister as someone that couldn't be trusted. Nothing he'd seen later on had made him change his opinion.
"Seems to me he's still trying to find out a way to win this war, without using the Order." Snape could read the nervous Minister like a first year Potions textbook. "He probably thinks his only way to regain some kind of control over our world is to deal with Voldemort's people himself."
Harry nodded. "I know."
"Especially when he has to face the fact that if we win the war, people will probably want to see someone else as the Minister for Magic." There was definitely genuine amusement on Snape's face now as he nodded slightly.
It was not shared by Harry. Feeling nauseous, he shook his head firmly. "Don't even joke about that. Minister for Magic? Me? That's the stupidest thing I've ever heard of." A prison worse any he'd ever imagined.
Snape had known he'd say that. For a long time he'd wondered if the weird refusal to accept all the praise was just a show, or something taught by Dumbledore. Now he knew it was neither. "I never joke, Potter."
"I know." Harry really didn't want to talk about this right now. Even though he agreed this wasn't really the proper place, he stepped closer to Snape and planted a soft kiss on his cheek. "That's because you're not a nice guy."
This time his words only made Snape cast a knowing look at him, as if it was now accepted as a part of the things they shared and not as something bordering on insult.
Harry let his touch linger for a brief moment before muttering quietly, "And neither am I."
Part 2 "We should probably go... Walk with me."
Draco nodded at Harry's words, glad to be able to escape the crowd. "Sure."
It wasn't exactly simple to leave the Headquarters, with Order members and Aurors needing a word with Harry, some to congratulate him on the new situation, others to ask pointless questions that were aimed at keeping Harry with them for just a moment longer.
Keeping slightly behind Harry, out of the way, Draco watched the way no one seemed to notice how uncomfortable their hero looked. As another Ministry goon passed them by, he had to revise that thought; he could still remember how everyone used to touch Harry, pat his shoulder or hug him. There was no trace of that anymore.
That had to be a good thing.
Draco didn't really know what to think about the latest turn in events. He'd known there was something going on, but never in his wildest dreams had he believed that Dumbledore would give up an ounce of his power.
But of course it was genius. He could see it already, as people passed by with awed expressions on their faces, Aurors and Order members all looking up to Harry. He'd already heard the words; the hero, the general.
Some things had indeed changed.
Smiling a little, Draco turned his gaze away from Harry and encountered a glare from Mad-Eye Moody who was standing with a group of scarred old Aurors. All right, maybe some things would always be the same.
It was weird seeing the suspicious looks and the barely veiled anger. He could almost feel anger and distrust emanating from everywhere around him, people looking at him and clearly seeing only his heritage.
Draco should be used to it, but now he realized that what he'd seen as suspicion before was nothing compared to this. The Order members barely noticed him, some even nodding at him in greeting right after the cheery calls to Harry.
The contrast was quite shocking, especially since Draco had never stopped to think about it. But yeah, ever since Harry had started to call him by his first name, their people had started to treat him like a person.
His step faltered for a moment, but he recovered immediately, covering the slight lapse with a cough and a murmured, "I'm fine!" when Harry turned to see if he was all right.
He kept his expression bland as they finally left the Headquarters. As they stepped out, he could hear a relieved sigh escape Harry, but said nothing about it.
There was a sigh working its way out of him as well.
Draco kept thinking about his life and how things were once again different; so the Ministry people would look at him and only see a Malfoy. Tough. He didn't really care about them, there were others who mattered. Blaise was up and about, still blind but looking a hell of a lot better than earlier. Snape seemed to be as loyal to his Slytherins as always. And beyond those two, there were Gryffindors who seemed not to only tolerate him but actually...
He didn't exactly know what to call it. There was probably a Gryffindor term for the acceptance he got from McGonagall or the approval in Sirius Black's insane gaze or the way Harry was now glancing at him as he opened the door to their house.
"You hungry?" Harry asked, slipping his shoes off and running his fingers through his already messy hair. "I could make dinner."
Draco had to actually think about that. Was he? He knew it was getting late in the day so he probably should be, but... "Not really."
"Me neither. Tea and sandwiches then?" Now there was a smile on Harry's face; it looked kind of weary, but it was still a genuine smile.
It was the first one Draco had seen since last night's meeting at Hogwarts. "Yeah, I think tea would be nice." Not just so that he could sit down and have tea with the de facto leader of their whole world now -- and boy did that sound weird -- but because he really needed to spend some time with a friend.
Shooing the house elves out of their way, Harry went to grab a loaf of bread and started making sandwiches. Draco stood near the table for a moment, feeling a bit useless, and then moved to grab the kettle. Tea wasn't that hard to brew, he'd done it a dozen of times since the first time when he'd ruined the first cup and then never got to drink the one that had come out perfectly.
He refused to turn around and look at the table behind him.
They sat at the table and had tea, not bothering to really talk about anything. Draco could see how Harry was lost in thought, and didn't want to be a nuisance and ramble about anything insignificant.
He kind of liked this; the companionship he shared with Harry was different from any friendships or relationships he'd ever known. There was nothing he could compare to it, except maybe flying over the Quidditch pit with a team mate flying nearby.
Of course that would be a fellow Slytherin and not Harry Potter.
"More tea?" Harry was holding out the pot. Pouring another cup, he added, "It's very good."
Draco smiled. "Yes, it is." He blew into the steaming liquid before sipping it. "And what lovely weather we had today."
He was awfully pleased with himself as Harry barely managed to put his cup down before bursting into laughter. "Yeah, the weather is very nice indeed. Care to speculate about the Quidditch World Cup next?"
The words were light, but the teasing was unfamiliar, sounding almost like something Harry would say to Weasley. Simple and almost innocent without even a hint of an ulterior meaning. With anyone else, he would have suspected this was a game; a flirtation, a play for power, but with their great hero, this was probably just as it seemed to be.
Draco liked it; liked the friendship and the acceptance more than the mindless adoration, even though a small part of him was still laughing hysterically every time he allowed himself to acknowledge the fact.
"Snape would be so proud of us, if he could see this," Harry said, his eyes glinting with mirth.
"I..." At a loss for words, Draco just shrugged. He didn't really know about that, didn't really know if he should care whether Snape would be proud or not. "I guess."
Harry watched Draco squirm and hide the squirming by fussing with his tea some more. It wasn't often that he saw him look this open, and he decided to probe a little. "You really like Snape, don't you?"
Not long ago, he would have argued that something as human as that was beyond Draco Malfoy's grasp. He knew better now.
Draco nodded hesitantly, deciding that this was still a normal conversation to someone like Harry. "Yes." He wouldn't use the word 'like' himself, but it was probably the only one Harry would understand. "He's the Head of my House." That sounded more like it.
He didn't want to explain it more, knowing that things about the purity of blood and House loyalty would most likely be mocked. It was likely that Harry would never understand just exactly how profound those things were to him.
"I believe it might go further than that," Harry said. With all the things that had happened, between Draco and him, between Draco and Ron, he wanted Draco to admit that sometimes there was no logical Slytherin reason for things, especially for emotions.
There was no reply.
"Come on, Draco. I know it's more than just reverence towards a professor." Now there was a teasing sound in Harry's voice, once again sounding like he was talking to one of his housemates.
Draco nodded. "Yes." It was the truth after all. "It is." It had always been.
"Okay." It was clear to Harry that there was more, but Draco wasn't comfortable of talking about it. "Sorry, I didn't mean to pry."
The conversation felt suddenly stifled, Harry wondering if he'd stepped on some conversational mine and Draco staring into his tea, wondering if his silence would seem rude and suspicious.
"Draco? I mean it. We don't need to talk about it if you don't want to."
Looking up, Draco could only see honest worry in Harry's eyes. "No, I... It's not something you and I should discuss." He could be honest if the occasion called for it.
For a moment, Harry simply stared at him, his expression puzzled, and he almost asked if Draco used to have a crush on Snape or what before he realized that it took more than that to make Draco look so uncomfortable. Then understanding dawned and the soft green gaze turned flint hard. "Am I right if I assume the discussion would involve Voldemort and the Death Eaters and your father?"
Seeing Draco nod, he realized that the odd silence was quite likely for his benefit. "Maybe it's best if... I don't want to say things about your father."
Draco agreed, knowing there were things he didn't want to say about his father either. Not about the things he'd seen, and especially not about the things he'd heard. Even though Voldemort's past had been the best kept secret ever, the Death Eaters did gossip, and their progeny had heard about most rumors.
What good would it do to tell Harry about the rivalry between his father and Snape? Or about the rumors that had Snape been a woman, Draco would undoubtedly call Snape mother right now.
"Me neither." Draco didn't trust his voice beyond those simple words.
Harry just nodded, knowing that whatever was going through Draco's head was bad, and he never wanted to hear it. He could already guess some of it, from half remembered conversations and from scars on Snape's skin, and it was making him sick. "Good."
The following silence wasn't exactly uncomfortable, but Harry dreaded what would happen when they finished with their tea and there was nothing left but the awkwardness between them.
"I wash and you dry, okay?" Raising an eyebrow, Harry nodded at the sink.
Draco groaned. "Oh great... Okay. I'll dry. But don't blame me if I break something." It wasn't an empty threat.
"I won't," Harry promised, smiling as he felt the tension dissipate. "I'll just let you buy us more china then."
They worked in silence, Harry washing the cups and the saucers and Draco drying them before putting them on the shelf again.
Harry enjoyed the simple task, working in the kitchen because it was his kitchen and because no one was ordering him to. It wasn't as good as some things he could name, but since there was no way for him to go to Hogwarts tonight, he'd settle for this.
At least Draco knew how to work in silence, and how to treat him like a human being. This was so much better than fretting alone for hours.
Finishing with the washing, Harry walked to the living room, not really liking the idea of going upstairs quite yet. Sirius and Remus were still at the Headquarters, and Harry doubted they would come home any time soon now that they both had the chance to be out there with other people without the need to hide.
"Did Ron say anything about when he's coming home?" The question slipped out before Harry could really think about what he was saying, and he cast an apologizing look at Draco. The last time he'd seen Ron, he'd been heading towards his brothers.
Draco hesitated at the doorway, his expression completely unreadable. "I heard him telling Granger that he would go out with his family."
He didn't add that he'd walked away then, not wishing to face the redheads again.
Grimacing at the flat tone, Harry chose not to pursue the question further. No matter how much he sometimes wanted to shake both Ron and Draco and tell them to stop playing, he knew it wasn't up to him to deal with their issues. It would be too much like the kind of thing people expected of him, of the perfect leader who knew everything and fixed everyone's problems.
"And Hermione went to spend some time with Parvati and Lavender," he mused out loud, thinking about the strange female solidarity they were showing to Hermione these days.
"Lucky her." It was meant to come out with sarcasm, but instead it was almost a sigh.
Draco was tired of spending all his time at home. It gave him too much time to think about things he'd rather forget. Still, this was better than going out on his own. Even with the sympathy some of the older Order members had shown him -- and it was so hard not to hate them for it sometimes -- he was pretty certain he wouldn't be welcome to the Three Broomsticks if he went there without Harry.
Before, there would have been mudblood idiots trying to make him miserable. Now there would be armed Aurors there mingling with everyone. He knew he could deal with puerile insults and glares, but he wasn't going to put himself in danger.
"Do you play chess?"
The hesitant question startled Draco, making him reply honestly, "Sort of. But I'm not really good at it." He'd never had the patience to really learn beyond the basics. "Why?"
"I'm just asking because I'm so very interested in every detail of your life." Rolling his eyes to emphasize the stupidity of the question, Harry gestured at the chess set on the small coffee table in the corner. "Want to play?"
Draco raised an eyebrow. He knew for a fact that Harry wasn't exactly good at the wizarding chess either. "Sure."
The board was already set, and it was simple to draw the table between two chairs and just start playing. Harry kept his mind on the game, refusing to think about how absurd it was that he was in here with Draco Malfoy, playing chess, when he could change the lives of everyone in Hogsmeade -- and probably in their whole world -- with a few simple words.
Playing chess was nice and simple, and he didn't even mind when Draco won most of the games. Winning didn't really matter, it was just fun to play.
The sun was setting by the time Sirius and Remus came home, both talking in low tones. Harry looked up from the game to greet them both, frowning as he saw how tired Sirius looked. A quick glance at Remus told him that nothing was really wrong, but he couldn't stop wondering if something had happened or if Sirius was simply overwhelmed by everything that had happened these past few days.
The way both men went into the kitchen and then Remus came back with a cup of tea in hand, a scroll under an armpit and a black dog following him a moment later was kind of telling.
"I think I should go to bed."
Harry nodded, realizing that maybe they were all kind of exhausted right now, weary beyond the simple need to spend hours asleep. "Sure. Sleep well."
"Yeah, you too."
Watching Draco walk out of the room without a single glance at the still half full chess board, he decided that maybe they were all entitled to be tired. It had been a long day, and he couldn't really see the days becoming any easier in the near future.
Not wanting to retire for the night yet, he fiddled with the chess pieces and ignored the way they so obviously wanted to finish the game. He wasn't in the mood for more games right now.
Harry sighed, turning away from the board. It was nice just sitting here and watching the flames dance in the fireplace. He didn't even bother to grab a book and pretend he was reading. For this evening, this specific evening, he was going to enjoy the peace and quiet as if he was still just Harry and could ignore everything beyond this moment.
His gaze wandered to the soft rug in front of the fireplace where Remus was lying, reading through the scroll, the black form of Snuffles curled next to him.
It was a familiar sight. Most of the time Sirius stayed in his human form, especially when it had become safe for him to move around in Hogsmeade as himself. Still, there were evenings when he grew restless, when he paced around the room for some time before giving in and turning into the Animagus form.
It reminded Harry of the time he'd seen Dumbledore holding a grey cat on his lap, scratching her ears absentmindedly. He wondered if it was a common thing for Animagi to escape from all the pain and fear into the animal form.
He didn't think he'd ever ask his godfather about the thing, especially now that he could actually be himself and not hide from the Aurors anymore.
Sometimes, he wondered what it would be like to be an Animagus. Now, as he watched Snuffles twitch in his sleep, he was glad his curiosity had never driven him to find out first hand. If the animal form was indeed a sort of escape from reality, it would have been too tempting.
What if he'd chosen that instead of going to Snape? He had no doubts of where he'd be right now if he had chosen the Animagus way. Not here in Hogsmeade fighting Death Eaters; that was for certain.
He was a bit amazed to realize that he didn't regret the choices he'd made.
Harry Potter, the living legend and the leader of the Order. It still sounded almost like a joke, but he wasn't laughing.
He was pretty sure that Voldemort wasn't either.
Part 3 Snape walked through the doorway of the Headquarters, swooping into the hallway without really intending the intimidating gesture, his robes billowing.
He could feel the stares on his skin and scowled at the Aurors who were milling around, his expression barely softening as he saw a few familiar faces in the crowd. The only people he really greeted were his colleagues.
Everyone seemed to spend their time in Hogsmeade these days.
The morning classes had not been exactly a disaster, but Snape wouldn't describe them as a success either. His quiet presence in the training room had been enough to curb the usual teenage enthusiasm to waste time on playing foolish games, but it was clear that most of the young people had not really paid attention to most of the lessons.
Even though Lupin's suggestion of an early lunch had been irritating, Snape had agreed. Keeping the youngsters here was a futile effort, succeeding only in frustrating their teachers.
He had cast more disgusted glances at their students as he'd left the training hall.
The short walk to the bookstore had given Snape enough time to stop fuming at the idiocy of most of the people that he was supposed to teach how to survive the war and making his purchases had calmed him down even more. He would give Lupin and his soft strategy one more chance, but then it would be time for something more drastic.
He was most definitely not looking forward to it.
But since he had agreed that his expertise would be needed, he would do his duty, no matter how unpleasant it felt.
He wished people would take things more seriously; looking at the classes and the training as a way to keep everyone alive instead of a boring addendum to old DADA classes that had bored most of them into tears.
There were no people in the hallways leading to the big meeting hall, a thing Snape was grateful for. He wasn't about to head to the mess hall for lunch and would enjoy the privacy of eating in here. The noise in the mess hall was usually deafening, with the teenagers being a loud lot even after leaving Hogwarts.
He would get the house elves to bring him something to eat, knowing from the experience that they wouldn't mind serving him lunch in here. He was already known for working through most meals.
Walking on, he refused to acknowledge the fact that the leading house elf assigned to the Headquarters seemed to be the one with mismatched socks who had always looked after Harry at Hogwarts.
That probably had nothing to do with the way the house elves catered to Snape.
He rapped his knuckles against the door frame as he stepped into the big room to alert anyone there to his presence. He knew that not only the Aurors had the tendency of being paranoid, and that it would be quite foolish to startle people who still instinctively pointed a wand at anyone who walked in unannounced.
"What?" A startled voice rang in the room, and then blinking green eyes focused on him. "Oh, hi Snape." Harry made an aborted move as if to get to his feet and then seemed to think better of it, nodding at Snape. After all, they weren't in private here.
Snape wasn't at all surprised to see Harry. There were days it seemed like he was almost living in here. "Potter. Getting ready for yet another afternoon full of meetings?" He almost shuddered at the thought of suffering through yet another one of those, hoping the ones he would be attending would not be a repetition of the ones he'd sat through dozens of times already.
It seemed that the Ministry loved meetings and paperwork and most of their people annoyed even the field working Aurors who seemed to view sitting down and talking about things endlessly as a waste of time.
Not that Snape could really disagree with them.
"Yeah. We have a talk with the Department for Magical Beings and the Department for Lost Curses and then probably a training session before we sit down to talk about fighting gear." Followed by more training, then probably by more talking. Harry knew he'd be lucky to get home before dark.
Snape simply nodded.
Most people had probably found Fudge's speech a few days ago inspiring and uplifting, with the comments about acting instead of talking. Those people had to be disappointed by now, when things had changed very little even with their reinforced troops now gathering in Hogsmeade.
He knew the importance of doing things properly. One couldn't make the cauldron boil any faster, and even though there were ways to make the fire burn hotter, such trickery usually ruined the brew.
He chose not to use that metaphor with Harry, even though the likely grin and the Quidditch reference would have made him look less tired.
The term he'd used registered a moment later, making him frown.
Of course only an idiot would have thought this change would lift some of the burden from Harry's shoulders instead of adding to them, but he'd at least hoped the Ministry people would be of some use and deal with some of the practical things they had to face with.
It looked like Harry was taking on more responsibilities himself, tiring himself with obscure paperwork once again.
He watched Harry blow a stray strand of hair out of his face and then concentrate on the papers he was reading.
He certainly didn't like this; not the silence in the room, not the way Harry hunched over the table. The idiot should be out there, eating lunch with his friends and relaxing instead of spending the lunch hour working alone while everyone else was taking a break. With this stubborn Gryffindor, such a break would be well deserved, unlike with most of the people attending to Lupin's class.
Refusing to even think about those morons, he contacted the house elves, ordering enough sandwiches and tea for two.
It was telling that Harry didn't even notice the tray appearing in front of Snape.
"When did you last eat something?" For a moment Snape contemplated on levitating the plate full of food in front of Harry, but discarded the notion as he realized that the plate would probably go unnoticed.
Harry looked up from the paper. "Er... Breakfast, I think." He didn't really have time to go to the mess hall, needing to finish the report on the Magical Creatures and how Walden Macnair had been spotted by the main facilities for the smuggling operation.
"I see." Pushing the chair next to him back as if intending to sit down, Snape grabbed the plate instead, wincing at the creaky sound the chair made against the stone floor. "You should eat something."
With that, he planted the plate on top of the papers Harry had been reading, blocking the text. This way, Harry would at least have to acknowledge the food if he wanted to go on working.
Harry blinked owlishly and then his gaze went from Snape to the sandwiches, widening slightly. "Oh. I didn't realize it's..." He cast a look at the clock, stunned to see it was indeed lunch time. "Thank you."
Reaching out for the food, he realized he was actually starving.
"You're welcome," Snape said curtly.
He didn't even want to wonder how long Harry would have simply sat here with his papers and then with his endless meetings without remembering to eat something. Neither did he wish to contemplate on how long Harry would spend in this room alone after the final meeting, going through the stack of papers piled high in front of him.
They ate in silence, Snape pouring Harry some tea when it became evident he wasn't going to do it himself.
Snape had been watching Harry, noticing the way he was pulling away from people more and more these days. The Aurors hadn't been here for even a week now, and already there was a clear change in their leader.
People had been so enthusiastic about touching and hugging Harry ever since their first big Order meeting, but now no one would dare to approach him like that anymore.
It wasn't necessarily a bad thing. Keeping his distance from all the brainless idiots who were milling around was a way to maintain at least some grip on his sanity. But he could see from the dark circles under Harry's eyes that he wasn't dealing with the changed situation well, probably agonizing over everything even when he should relax and sleep.
Not that he was surprised; everyone seemed to have trouble sleeping these days. He was just certain that Harry was taking it farther than anyone else.
The errant strand of hair was once again hanging loose on Harry's forehead, swinging slightly as Harry pushed the plate a bit to the side so that he could read while he was eating. Snape rarely paid attention to Harry's looks -- except to see if he was once again exhausting himself -- but even he couldn't ignore the messy hairstyle. Without thinking, he reached out with his hand and pushed the lock behind Harry's ear, wondering if he should tell him to take some time for a haircut.
Eyes going wide, Harry looked up at him, the hand holding the sandwich frozen on its trip towards his mouth. He cast a glance at the door that was still slightly ajar and then returned to stare at Snape, who was calmly sipping his tea.
The gesture had been almost absentminded, a simple touch that left Harry tingling.
Snape ignored the change in Harry's expression though it always amused him to see Harry look so silly over insignificant little things like that. It was not as if he'd concentrated on a thing, touching Harry for a touch's sake. "Eat your sandwich," he said curtly.
"Yeah." Smiling slightly, Harry took another bite, concentrating on his sandwich and not even looking at the report. The ever-present headache seemed to fade away slowly. Dear Merlin, he'd needed this; both the food and that strangely gentle gesture.
Snape had already finished with his lunch when people started slipping through the doorway, getting ready for the next meeting. He watched Harry hold onto the still steaming mug of tea even as the Ministry people came in, looking more relaxed than in quite some time.
Of course it didn't last for long.
Sitting back and observing the meetings, Snape wondered just exactly when had the Ministry joining them had turned into the Ministry bringing all their problems to Harry to be solved. He could understand how they needed Black and Lupin's reports for the dark creatures when they discussed about the Magical Beings -- the discussions quickly dissolving into a shouting match as Black got tired of the platitudes, something that was quite astonishing -- but the whole deal with the curses was fairly ridiculous.
Bill Weasley apparently thought the same, ending the half hearted arguments with a few scathing words that didn't only show his annoyance but also his expertise on the matter.
It seemed that the abrupt ways of the goblins rubbed off after a decade or so of working for Gringotts.
Snape offered very little to the discussions, content with watching the proceedings and wondering just when Albus had stopped coming to these meetings altogether. Fudge's absence was easily explained, but he couldn't really understand why Albus wasn't here.
That wasn't the only thing that was hard to understand.
It was clear that Harry was thinking about the same things himself, especially from the tired look on his face after the third -- or was it fourth? -- meeting ended.
Snape found himself sitting alone by the wall. Everyone else had left the room, the Order members looking busy once again, the Ministry officials muttering to themselves with nervous energy and only their great hero was now standing near the window, his back turned towards the room.
"I'm thinking of putting Bill Weasley in charge with the curse -lessons. Sirius and Remus can continue with the smugglers, and I'm certain Remus can liaison with the Ministry."
"That is probably the best plan I've heard today," Snape said, knowing that Harry hadn't missed his presence.
Harry didn't turn away from the window. "It only took three meetings and more than two hours to get to that point. At this rate, I'll be seventy by the time we'll actually get to do something."
Snorting, Snape didn't bother to say anything. His thoughts weren't that far from Harry's after all.
Standing ramrod straight, Harry squeezed his hands into fists. "At least the Order can deal with some things on their own. Fudge's kept his people so firmly under his thumb they'll probably ask for permission to have a second cup of tea or use the loo."
"That doesn't sound that far fetched."
It didn't make Harry relax one bit. "So they want me to tell them what to do. Take responsibility over everything and everyone." That was the worst of his nightmares.
Snape agreed. "Yes." He was quite certain Harry would not let that happen.
"I wonder when people will start asking about power. I know some already want to, those who see me as their great leader. I wonder when the first person will make the comparison to Voldemort, but with me having good intentions." Harry didn't say anything about how most of the people already seemed to view Dumbledore like that, worshipping the old man without question.
Trust was a good thing, but blind trust was insane.
Snape knew that better than anyone.
"I doubt anyone will ask that just yet. People are too happy to see you take care of things to accuse you of taking over the world." Snape knew it might happen later on, especially after they started losing people.
It wouldn't be Albus Dumbledore who got the blame then, even though most of this was orchestrated by him.
"Power." Voice quiet, Harry mused out loud. "It corrupts, doesn't it? People who are worshipped get so used to that feeling that they'll do anything to have more of it. More worship and adoration." He shivered at the thought.
It would be so easy to believe in the mindless idolizing and be exactly what people wanted him to be; allow everyone to glorify him and his myth as they had for his whole life. He would be worshipped by the masses, known and loved by no one.
Snape nodded. That was the way it usually went, and most people never even thought about it. "Yes."
He would always be suspicious of peoples' motives, the things he had experienced with his former master made certain he would never again follow anyone without questions.
"I'm tired."
The simple confession made Snape sigh. At least Harry wasn't trying to live in denial. "I can see that. Maybe you should take the rest of the day off. Go home. Take a long shower. Read through one of your silly Quidditch magazines."
Harry nodded, turning slowly to face Snape. "Yeah." He knew there was no real alternative for this evening, or any other evening in the near future. The leader of their army couldn't simply disappear and spend his evenings at Hogwarts, no matter how he wanted to, and it was painfully obvious he couldn't really invite Snape over until Sirius went on another mission. "I think you're right."
His whole body ached with the need to go to Snape, but he knew it would be stupid to start something here where anyone could walk in and interrupt them.
Forcing himself to sit tight, Snape watched Harry walk out of the room.
It was all set in motion now; the Order was finally working on defeating Voldemort, and soon there would come a time when Harry would indeed lead them all to battle, and then it would all be over. He had never allowed himself to think beyond such a point and didn't linger there now.
What mattered was this moment, and whatever desires he might harbor about the future were completely unimportant.
Gathering up the potions books he'd purchased earlier, he walked out of the Headquarters, knowing he wouldn't exactly be missed from whatever meetings there would be left. Not staying to listen to the useless arguments would probably do wonders for his mental health. It would be much better to just go home and work on something. Or maybe just go to bed early.
He firmly refused to even contemplate the fact that he was getting more tired these days too.
Part 4 Ron walked into the living room as soon as he'd kicked off his shoes, already relaxed when he'd seen Harry's shoes and robes, but needing to see him anyway. "Harry?"
"Yeah, I'm here." Looking up from where he was sitting by the fire, Harry managed a slight smile. "Sorry I didn't tell you when I was leaving, you were in the middle of something and I didn't want to interrupt."
It was a very polite way of saying he didn't want to explain his sudden departure to anyone.
Most of the people probably thought he had something important to do at the house and the rest could speculate all they wanted. Snape had been right. He'd needed to get away from it all on his own and take that long shower without anyone fussing around.
"That's okay. I think we're all tired of the crowd by now." Ron had noticed how some of the Ministry people had left early as well.
He didn't know why. Maybe they had something to do, or maybe they were overwhelmed by the insane amount of people milling around the Headquarters. He'd seen Hermione rub her temples more than once, and Malfoy had slipped away over an hour ago, probably sitting in his room already.
"Yeah."
Yawning, Ron pulled his robe off, tossing it towards the couch, missing. "Well at least you didn't have to spend the whole evening listening to people argue about fighting gear." He couldn't believe how the others had been so annoyed about the whole thing. "Oh. And you should have heard Trelawney."
"Why?" Only half listening to his friend, Harry cocked his head. "Predicting death and destruction again?" It wasn't exactly a morale boost, but sometimes her somber predictions actually lightened up the mood.
It was good to find something they could still laugh at.
"Not exactly. She was doing that thing with her cards," Ron made a shuffling motion with his hands. "Muttering stuff. Then she suddenly sat up and started dealing. You should have heard her. It was weird. Kept talking about the fool going towards his doom and his followers banishing the shadow that claimed his soul or something like that. It was creepy as hell."
Harry was used to creepiness. Sometimes it seemed that there was nothing else left in the whole world.
He hoped that his old Divinations professor hadn't scared anyone with her nonsense. "Sounds really weird. Maybe I should talk to her tomorrow." The reality was bad enough, they didn't need this as well.
It still made him feel strange to say something like that, to actually acknowledge himself as the great leader everyone saw.
Ron nodded. "Sure. Whatever." He stretched and then said, "I'd better go to bed. I'm exhausted."
There was a small silence laden with all the half nasty quips Harry could make about the fact that Ron would have to decide whose bed he'd climb into. He hadn't missed the looks or the sounds, but was unwilling to say a word about it.
Mainly because it was really none of his business.
He picked Ron's shirt off the floor, briefly wondering if Sirius' mother hen attitude was contagious, before following Ron upstairs.
Trying not to laugh too hard at the sounds coming from Ron's room, he went through his evening routines and then headed to bed, tired enough to fall asleep in mere minutes.
The house quieted down soon after that.
Harry woke up with a jolt, his head hurting in a most peculiar way. He'd never felt like this before. Remembering how Aunt Petunia had always talked about her pressure migraines before thunderstorms and the weird relief that had come over her when the storm finally broke, he sat up, touching his forehead gingerly. No. His scar wasn't burning.
It was still dark outside. Harry wondered if he should go back to sleep, but already knew he'd just toss and turn if he tried. Maybe he should go downstairs to see if there was something to eat; not just the hot chocolate that never lulled him to sleep as it probably should, but something that would help him think. The day that hadn't even dawned yet would be a long one.
They were facing battles on so many fronts it was almost ridiculous. Voldemort's followers had potential strongholds all over Britain and from what Remus had told him, they were still bringing the dark creatures in. He didn't even want to mention the Dementors, shivering at the thought of engaging the hooded creatures again in a fight.
Staring into the darkness, he waited for the familiar feeling of terror to land over him at the mere thought. When it never came, he frowned.
Was he already so cold inside he couldn't even feel fear of the soul eaters?
Harry pushed his covers off. "Lumos." The floor felt unpleasantly chilly under the soles of his bare feet, and he tiptoed to get socks. Smiling a little, he chose the ones with red and yellow stripes. They were still his favorites, despite the look Snape always seemed to cast at them. Or maybe because of it.
Something was nagging at the edge of his consciousness. A memory or a thought, maybe something he'd heard over the past few days. He was feeling a bit fuzzy, but it was probably because of the weird non-headache.
He padded downstairs quietly so that he wouldn't wake anyone up. Even though he knew the hot chocolate wouldn't help him sleep, he put the kettle on stove anyway; this didn't feel like his usual insomnia, and the familiar hot drink might soothe his nerves.
The house elves were still asleep, so after drinking his hot chocolate, Harry put the cup and kettle into the sink and ran water over them. It still came as an instinct, feeling like making others clean after him was somehow wrong. Sometimes he had to wonder if he'd ever learn to relax about things like this or if he was indeed doomed.
Smiling, he grabbed the brush. The early hours always made him think foolish thoughts.
He stilled as a memory of familiar words hit him, and realized that there was indeed something bothering him.
It wasn't anxiety or a nightmare, nor was it the weird sense of being too tired to sleep. He wasn't feeling the almost overwhelming loneliness and even though he now kind of missed Snape all the time he wasn't with him, it wasn't like the need to be with him was making him stay up either.
He snorted. Yeah, some great leader he was, standing in his kitchen in the early hours of the day, analyzing something that was quite probably just a normal headache. He really was a fool.
The thought froze him, and for once he didn't feel the warm fuzzies about being called an idiot.
A fool. Doomed.
With a very unpleasant shiver running down his spine, Harry turned around and rushed back upstairs, taking the stairs two at the time. He didn't pause to knock on Ron's door, simply pushed the door open so hard it banged against the wall.
"What the hell?" The sleepy voice was joined by a terse, "Lumos!" that came from the other doorway as Draco reacted to the sudden sounds with quick reflexes and rushed into the hallway.
Harry ignored Draco's curious stare, glad that someone had enough sense to actually turn on the lights. He also chose not to acknowledge the fact that the Slytherin was so clearly naked under the sheet he'd wrapped around himself as he'd scrambled out of his bed to see what was going on.
"Is there something wrong?" Not moving his wand one inch, Draco looked around, trying to see if there was indeed something wrong and pinpoint if there were noises coming from outside. Even though there had been less reports about raids these past few days, he was not about to relax and stop worrying about the Death Eaters somehow breaking through the wards.
Pushing his way inside Ron's room, Harry didn't waste time trying to be discrete or wait until Ron had stopped struggling with his blankets. "What did Trelawney say yesterday?"
"Huh?" Finally able to sit up, Ron blinked owlishly. It was so damn bright in here! He glanced at the clock and groaned, "It's in the middle of the night for Merlin's sake! Can't this wait till morning?"
Harry stepped closer to the bed, hearing Draco follow him into Ron's room. "This is important. What did she do? What did she say?"
"I don't know... She was playing with her tarots. You know I bet she was playing solitaire or something with them." Ron scratched his head and yawned, his voice blurring. "Anyway, then she said something about the fool. Like... The fool trying to become the magician. Dealing with the devil. But that he should stay away from the tower because its shadow will only claim his soul."
Repeating the words in his mind, Harry groaned. "Bloody hell... What else?" He was sure Ron had said something more, something that had made him have a bad feeling about the whole thing.
Now Ron was looking worried as well. "I'm not sure. I think she said that the fool's followers will..." He frowned. He couldn't remember the exact words.
" 'The fool's disciples shall banish the shadow, elevating his memory amongst the heroes.' " Draco said, sounding awfully casual for someone who'd just been rudely awakened. At Harry's quirked eyebrow, he muttered, "Can't really help it if I have perfect memory."
"Good. Okay. Shit." Running his hand through his hair, Harry collected his thoughts. "Okay. I think we're in trouble."
Ron frowned. "You think?" He saw the glare, unpleasantly reminded of Snape. "All right." He could deal with this. After all, Ginny had always loved it when he read the cards for her. He knew his tarot. "The fool is someone trying to be more than he is. So that someone is doing something that's probably really dangerous. The devil is temptation. The tower represents betrayal."
"Thank you." Never really getting into anything that had to do with Divinations, Harry nodded. He was starting to feel really bad about this.
For only a moment, he wondered if he was overreacting. Sometimes dreams were dreams and Trelawney sure had a flair for making utter rubbish sound plausible. He couldn't help thinking about the only time when -- looking back after it had all happened -- her prediction had indeed come true. When Wormtail had gone to Voldemort.
"I..." Shaking his head as if he was trying to collect his thoughts, Draco mused out loud, "This can mean so many things."
Harry had to agree. "Yeah, and none of them good." There was a crawling feeling moving up his spine, and he could see from the way Draco was fidgeting that he wasn't the only one having the premonition of doom.
Yawning, Ron muttered, "You're barmy, both of you." Too bad he didn't sound like he believed it himself.
"We need to talk to Dumbledore. Both of you, get dressed and meet me downstairs." For the hundredth time, Harry cursed the lack of a floopoint in the house. They would have to hurry through the nightly streets of Hogsmeade and that would probably wake a lot of people up.
It couldn't be helped now.
By the time they were all dressed -- Harry and Ron changed from their pajamas and Draco actually wearing something -- Sirius and Remus were up too, both looking worried. The argument following Harry's decision to go to the Headquarters as quickly as possible in the middle of the night woke Hermione up too, and by the time Sirius finished yelling at Harry, they were all ready to go.
The streets of Hogsmeade were dark, but there was no need for an illumination spell. Harry hurried onwards towards the Headquarters, seeing the light shining from dozens of windows.
"Oh man..." Ron muttered. He'd hoped this was a false alarm, but honestly, he hadn't been able to shake off the memory of running down these same streets behind Harry and Malfoy and hoping that Malfoy's weird deductions had been just Slytherin suspicion and not some weird intuition.
He grabbed a better hold of his wand, knowing they were all prepared for an attack.
There was a crowd gathering outside the Headquarters, and it was clear to see that there were even more people just inside the large doors, milling around like a flock of sheep.
It made the knot in Harry's stomach tighten even more.
He ignored the greetings and the way his name was almost sobbed as soon as everyone noticed him in the middle of his friends. "Stay here." The wave of disapproval coming from Sirius hit him almost like a real blow, but he ignored that as well.
"Fine." Ron was the only one managing actual words. "Look, my dad's over there."
Grateful for small mercies, Harry cast a glance at Arthur Weasley who was standing by the wall looking more angry than pained. It had to mean that whatever had happened, the Weasleys were safe, but it was clear that something big had indeed happened.
There was a group of Aurors and other Ministry people near Arthur Weasley; people huddled together, some standing, others slumped on the floor. The devastation on their faces was terrible, most either crying openly or looking completely lost.
Harry looked frantically around, relaxing only slightly as he saw the familiar trio on the other side of the room. At least nothing had happened to Snape, Dumbledore or McGonagall. Not that he'd really thought they'd been in danger; there were many words he could use to describe them all, but 'fool' wasn't one of them.
He walked to them, moving to stand next to Snape and leaning towards him ever so slightly before asking, "What happened here?"
Dumbledore replied with equally hushed tones, "I believe the Aurors have lost some of their force tonight. Something happened that has never happened before. I felt the door open and then close again." He shrugged, as if banishing fog from his mind. Meeting Harry's completely puzzled expression, he said, "The portal between planes. I believe it was opened and then closed after the shadow passed through. The Dementors are gone."
It made Harry's eyes widen. Suddenly he didn't need any more explanations. "Fudge. Fudge did that." He'd always talked about negotiating, but could anyone be foolish enough to try to make a deal with the Dementors?
"Yes. Long ago, the Ministry summoned the Dementors from the shadows. I assume Cornelius thought he could use that as leverage. Banishing the Dementors was maybe foolhardy, but a brave deed also. One that cost him his life."
Harry had already understood that, but hearing it out loud made it real somehow. Fudge was dead. The Dementors were gone.
He wanted to curse and scream, at the same time wondering if Fudge had known this would be the most significant thing he could ever do for their world. The thought brought a wave of guilt he tried to suffocate as he looked around at the chaos in the room. "We have no Minister for Magic?"
There were so many thoughts running through his head, but this was the one thing he had to concentrate on, even though the mere words made him feel cold inside.
McGonagall let out a choked sound, but it was Dumbledore who answered, "We have no Minister for Magic."
Harry didn't dare to look at McGonagall, not wanting to see disappointment in her eyes. "We need to do something about that." Right now. It didn't matter that it was the middle of the night; most people in Hogsmeade had already heard the news from the looks of the growing crowd, and by morning their whole world would be in turmoil.
Voldemort would undoubtedly try something.
"Yes, we do." Dumbledore nodded, gesturing towards the doorway to his left. "Let's go in there and have some privacy for this."
Harry followed him without a word, glad to see that there were only a few of the Order gathering in the small meeting room instead of a huge crowd full of strangers. He already knew the rest of the night would be a waking nightmare, one of those where he found himself forced to take charge of everything and everyone, but right now he wasn't ready to pretend he was in control of anything.
He sighed as the door closed after Ron and his dad, shutting the grieving crowd outside.
"What the hell happened, Albus?" Hooch asked, her eyes glazed over as if she was in shock. "Is Fudge really dead?"
Dumbledore sat down, waiting for everyone to find a place before answering, "Yes. He is gone."
Everyone seemed to erupt into heated comments at once, the room filled with shocked exclamations. The question 'why' seemed to be repeated over and over again.
Sitting back, Harry let Dumbledore launch into a detailed explanation, listening to the words with a slight disbelief driving away the numbness inside.
He still couldn't believe Fudge had tried to do something like this. The Dementors were -- had been -- the strongest and the most unpredictable creatures one could imagine, and Fudge had tried to control them? Why?
The answer was so obvious he almost laughed. Biting the inside of his lip, he tried to concentrate on what went on in the room, on the comments people made.
He didn't say anything, but nodded at the plans. Yes, they had to move quickly, yes, they needed a new Minister by the end of the day --or preferably by the end of the night. And no, he didn't want the Order to get involved in that; it was the Ministry's job to deal with the politics.
As long as they remembered they really were at war here. It was no time for internal fights or hubris.
Arthur Weasley nodded firmly at that, even though there was a hint of doubt in his eyes.
When it became clear that they wouldn't be making any important decisions, Madam Pomfrey left the room, driven by the need to look after the well being of all the suffering Aurors. Others fidgeted in their seats, unable to leave just yet.
It was Minerva McGonagall who voiced the question that was on everyone's mind. "Harry? Are you all right?"
"I don't think any one of us is all right right now, professor," Harry muttered, taking a deep breath. He looked around, seeing the agreeing nods. "I..." There were so many platitudes, so many encouraging things he could say as their leader, and he couldn't find any words because no matter how he lied, things were not going to be better any time soon.
Sprout blew her nose in between sniffles, nodding so hard her hat fell off.
It was clear that her silent sentiments were shared by most in the room. They were the oldest Order members and the professors, all knowing what this was about. With only Harry's friends representing the youngsters here, they could show their horror and sadness openly.
Harry had to look down, unable to face such raw emotion. "I can't help but feel guilty. He had to do this because he thought I wanted his place." It was something he was getting really tired of; the endless guilt over everything.
No one said anything.
Moving silently to his godson, Sirius kept his gaze on Harry. He didn't know what to say either, but he did know what to do; he put his hand on Harry's shoulder as a soft gesture, immensely happy when some of the tension seemed to ooze away from him.
He sat there in silence, feeling that it was enough to touch. Sooner or later Dumbledore would think of something good and comforting to say, and everything would be better.
Snape stared at Harry, his gaze completely unreadable. "Fudge chose to attempt this on his own. Not because he wanted what's good for everyone, but for the more common reason. He wanted to help himself."
No one could really argue, but it wasn't really nice to talk about the dead like that. Shocked to hear Snape actually make a comment like that, people just stared at him.
"He was the Minister for Magic. Supposedly the wisest man in our world. But of course when he makes a stupid and selfish decision that gets him killed, it's all your fault. Yes, that makes sense." There was absolutely nothing but malice in Snape's voice. "Do you wish us to leave you alone so you can wallow properly, or shall we try to deal with the situation and prepare for a retaliation?"
The change in the mood was instant, even though no one still said a word. Ron was staring with his eyes wide. He'd never heard anyone say anything as cruel; figured it would be Snape saying this. Sirius' lip was slowly curling up, revealing his teeth as if he'd forgotten that he was in his human form.
Harry looked up slowly. There was a mixture of pain and anger in his gaze, but oddly, there was also determination. "You are a bastard." He had known that all along, but never as clearly as now. They might joke about Snape not being a nice guy, but it was the absolute truth.
"Crass, Potter. I would have thought better of you." Snape said it calmly; he had heard worse.
He didn't care about the silence in the room, knowing most people would like to hex him right now. They didn't really matter. Months ago, he'd held Harry tight as he'd cried his pain and guilt over deaths that were none of his fault, but that Harry Potter had had the luxury of grief, being only a teenager.
Unlike this man who had the responsibility over hundreds of lives.
He didn't know how much Harry could handle, but it was clear that his calculatingly cruel words might well be the end of the foolish attraction that had formed between them. He barely acknowledged how painful the mere thought was, concentrating on the necessity of why he was destroying everything.
Right now, coddling and hugs wouldn't help. Harry needed to snap out of the useless guilt and remorse and deal with the way things were or else they would lose everything. The only way Snape knew to make that happen was to be blunt about this and say out words that would cut deep.
Harry kept staring into Snape's eyes, trying to breathe evenly. There was still anger evident on his face, but the resignation was gone.
"There are people waiting for you. Do you want us to tell them you're indisposed?" It would spread the chaos, but not more than a weeping, guilt ridden leader would. "Sir?"
If there was something Snape mastered, it was getting the desired reaction from people. He could see his words hit Harry as if he'd slapped him, and for the smallest of moments Snape regretted that he had to be the only one in their world who was able to do this.
"No." Taking a deep breath, Harry stood up. "We have work to do." His voice was quiet but steady. With a slight gesture, he motioned at the door.
Looking relieved, people started moving out of the small room. Remus was there by Sirius' side before he could do or say anything he would probably not regret later. Ron and Hermione padded closer to Harry, wondering if he would appreciate their show of support now.
The five Gryffindors were the last people standing by the table. Even Snape was slowly moving towards the door, his shoulders hunched as if he carried a heavy burden.
"Snape," Harry said, freezing everyone still in the room. Those just passing the doorway stopped to look behind as well.
Keeping his expression neutral, Snape looked at him. "Yes?" He could feel murderous glares still aimed at him, glad that simple looks couldn't kill.
Even if death might be more merciful than whatever would come next.
Harry walked from behind the table and stepped next to Snape. He was feeling raw all over, the guilt and the pain still just below the surface, but they weren't paralyzing him anymore. Yes, Fudge had been a fool, but he was going to make sure he hadn't died in vain. "Don't ever call me sir again." His hand touched Snape's arm in a familiar gesture.
He could see the shock in Snape's gaze as he let his touch linger for a moment before walking out of the door.
Wishing he could hug Harry tight, Sirius hurried to walk by his side and muttered quietly, "Don't blame yourself. It wasn't your fault." He hated the fact that his words were basically the same as Snape's had been, but at least he knew how to say them gently, so that they didn't hurt.
Harry sighed, but chose not to say anything. He did know that, had known even before Snape had told him, but knowing and believing were sometimes two different things.
"Yeah." He didn't want to do this now, didn't need Sirius' kind words that were only making the guilt and sorrow bubble closer to the surface. If he allowed himself to let go of his slight irritation, he would drown under the enormous responsibility this had brought upon him.
Straightening his back, he cast a glance at Remus and then left him to deal with Sirius and his worry. He had work to do.
The rest of the night and the following day were full of urgent meetings. Aurors and other Ministry personnel kept coming to the meeting halls, needing to have the horrible rumor confirmed. People milled around in shock, no one really comprehending that something like this could happen.
Harry moved from one meeting to another, his mind completely blank. Facing the grieving people got no easier as the hours went by, but he found that he could keep his own sorrow in check. The guilt still lingered somewhere at the back of his mind, but he didn't let it gnaw on him.
Not now.
They needed to hold up the structures and find out a way to keep the Ministry running without spending days or weeks organizing an election. Fudge had ruled with an iron fist hidden in his expensive and smooth leather glove, and there was no one who was ready to step into his place.
There were those who wanted Harry to take over all Fudge's responsibilities. Harry listened to them and tried not to let out the hysterical laughter. Snape's words had indeed been prophetic in their ridiculous prediction.
He politely declined. Then had to decline again as people went from asking to begging.
Agreeing that they needed a new Minister as soon as possible, he still thought it should be someone who actually knew how to deal with their government. He wanted nothing to do with such a responsibility and said it quite clearly.
It took him a few tries to make everyone understand he was serious.
In the end, the important Ministry people -- including all the department heads, old witches and wizards and a few Aurors -- held a meeting in one off the larger meeting halls, emerging half an hour later to declare that they had chosen Arthur Weasley as the Acting Minister for Magic, effective immediately.
Harry chose not to laugh at the absurdity of that, refusing to react to the fawning looks that were seeking for his approval. It didn't matter that Mr. Weasley had probably been chosen for his close relationship with him. Harry was simply glad they had someone to lead the rest of their world while he concentrated on Voldemort.
He did however feel slightly sorry for Mr. Weasley. His position was definitely one to be envied.
Considering the reasons why Fudge had made his foolish decision to make a deal with the Dementors, it was ironic that Acting Minister Weasley's first order was to officially transfer all control over the Aurors to Harry Potter.
There were no protests. After the death of the elected leader of their world, the witches and wizards were content on handing the power to someone who worked on ending the conflict.
It was dark again when people started to leave the Headquarters, everyone looking more exhausted than in days.
Harry felt relieved, even though the strange headache that had woken him up so many hours ago had never really left him. Their world was still standing, the Ministry people already back where they belonged with their new leader and the Aurors now almost shivering with the desire to destroy the Dark Lord and his minions.
He had to admit that Fudge's rash actions had probably done more good for their fight than he'd ever thought possible.
"Harry? Are you ready to go home?" Ron asked, looking at his friend hesitantly.
Blinking, Harry glanced around, seeing that the meeting hall was almost empty now. He hadn't noticed people leaving, a true testament of how tired he was. "Yeah..." His gaze caught a familiar figure standing next to a window on the other side of the room. "No, wait. I need to..."
Ron's carefully blank expression already told him he was well aware what Harry needed to do.
Moving quietly across the room, Harry walked towards Snape's quiet form.
"Snape?"
Turning around, Snape looked at Harry, his face expressionless. "Yes?" He had been waiting for this, and even though he would have preferred to have this conversation in private, he couldn't really tell Harry to follow him to one of the empty rooms.
He cursed at his blindness and the strange need to stay here and witness his own doom.
"About earlier..."
Snape couldn't read Harry's tone, waiting for him to continue almost breathlessly. No matter how Harry's strange emotionalism sometimes puzzled him, this was truly a moment he didn't know what to expect.
He had never wanted to be the object of Harry's affections, but now that necessity had driven him to push Harry away with his words, Snape found out that he rather regretted being forced to sever the unexplained bond that had been forming between them.
Harry let a wry smile appear on his lips. It made him look as tired as he felt. "I'd like to thank you for reminding me of... You know." He didn't really even know how to put it into words, but he knew they both knew why he was thanking Snape.
The complete shock made Snape blink. He'd been preparing himself to face anger and scorn and most definitely rejection.
It was always a bit amusing to see Snape so clearly speechless, but this time Harry was too tired to really feel the amusement. He just wanted to go home and sleep for hours and wanted to do it without facing the kindness of his housemates or the compassion radiating from Sirius and Remus.
The cruel honesty in Snape was in a way easier to bear, even now.
Harry could see the shock in Snape's eyes, and realized that he was genuinely baffled by his actions, as if he'd expected a completely different reaction.
The man's incredible dedication to the Order -- his dedication to defeating Voldemort -- would come before his own needs or desires. He would not spare himself or anyone else if it was necessary. It was clear that he thought his words might have ruined everything between them.
"For Merlin's sake, don't thank me, Potter!" Snape choked out.
Harry nodded, recognizing the danger there was in their discussion, the overwhelming need to hold Snape and tell him things he'd never dared to say out loud as devastating as the guilt still lurking at the edge of his thoughts.
They stood there in silence for a moment, both feeling the curious glances on them as the few people remaining in the room kept staring at them. Harry's skin tingled with the tension, with all the unsaid things, and he wondered if there would ever be a time for him to have a private conversation with Snape again.
The war was indeed coming between them, separating them even better than any words ever could. There was no time for quiet evenings together, no place they could share now.
Harry forced himself to nod at Snape again, a curt farewell before walking out of the room.
Part 5 The clock ticking on the mantle sounded really loud in Harry's ears as he finally sat down on a chair, cradling a cup of tea in his hands.
He could see from the disapproving glare Eppy threw at them all from the doorway that they would probably have to deal with the dishes later on, but right now that was the least of his problems.
Simple chores would be a relief after all the insanity he'd faced today; the china wouldn't demand his full attention, neither would it demand him to become something worse than even his worst nightmares. There would be no guilt in cleaning either.
Smiling a little, he fidgeted with his cup, glad that no one in the room could read his thoughts.
"Harry?"
Harry looked up to meet Sirius' worried gaze, shaking his head slightly. It was pretty sad how something as simple as a smile could make his godfather look like that. But then again he didn't exactly have much reason to really smile right now. "Nothing, am just..." He made a gesture with his hand. "It's just been a crazy day, that's all."
That certainly made everyone nod.
"Yeah," Hermione muttered. "I can't really remember when things haven't been crazy."
Another sentiment everyone could agree with.
Remus took a better position on the couch next to Sirius and offered hesitantly, "I know we're all tired of talking, but I think we should... Things have changed and I for one need some time to deal with everything and I thought we shouldn't just brush everything that's happened today under a rug and go on as if nothing's different."
All the meetings he had taken part of today were even now a blur in his mind, decisions and plans making his head spin and he could only imagine how it had to be with Harry who had been at the center of everything.
Harry nodded. "You're right. We really should talk about what happened." He looked around the living room. "And since we're all here..." It was almost as if they'd already known they couldn't just go to bed after all that they'd been through today, gathering together in here for a bit of a snack and the mellow atmosphere that was light years away from the bustle back at the Headquarters.
He could see worry in Sirius' eyes, the sentiment mirrored in the way Remus was looking at him and the quiet nod Hermione threw in his direction.
Maybe Remus was right; for once they couldn't simply brush things away.
"Before anyone says anything nice..." Or Sirius rushed to give him yet another hug. "I just want to say... Fudge's dead and it's not anyone's fault. No need to circle around that subject and worry I'll break. Yes, I feel bad about it, but... you know."
Sirius let out a choking sound. "Oh, Harry..."
"No, I mean it. Honestly. You don't have to think you'll say something wrong; believe me, you can't say anything I haven't heard already." Harry didn't know any other way to say it. They had never talked about things like this, not openly anyway, and he was so tired of polite platitudes and hesitation right now.
Draco nodded at that. There was a time and place for games, but when they had to deal with serious business, they couldn't just sit around and talk in circles.
"You can say that again..." Muttered Sirius, his expression darkening.
There was a very uncomfortable silence in the room. They all knew what he meant by that, and it was kind of hard not to agree with him.
Harry nodded. "Yes. I have heard it all before, and it's a good thing because I'm the one person who can't simply sit in silence and think about everything until I go crazy. And yeah, I know you hate Snape for what he said today, but he was right. I do tend to wallow sometimes."
He was glad no one tried to even deny his words, knowing himself all too well on this account.
"I don't care! He didn't have to say it out loud like that!" Sirius growled. If Harry really intended to be open about this, he could be honest with his opinions. Not that he tended to hide what he really thought about Snape most of the time.
"Yes he did."
The glare Sirius cast at Harry showed clearly that this was the one thing they would never agree on.
Draco nodded quietly, understanding Harry's comment better than these Gryffindors ever could. They coddled each other and used all the soft emotions to carry each other through everything, and while that was probably all right during most of the time, it wouldn't work now.
"But this isn't just about Snape." Harry knew that they should move on, or they'd be doing the no he didn't yes he did -thing for the rest of the evening. "We have a completely new situation at hand. Think about it, Sirius! No more Dementors!"
That seemed to push all thoughts of Snape away from Sirius' mind. "Yes!" Besides the worry about Harry, that had been the one thing he'd focused on all day. "No more Dementors."
"Of course that means Voldemort will be totally pissed off now and he'll do something rash." Draco couldn't help pointing that out.
Sirius rolled his eyes, muttering, "Slytherins!" Always concentrating on the bad things. He for one was going to be deliriously happy about the fact that he would never have to face a Dementor again.
Probably celebrate the whole thing with Remus just as soon as the children went to bed.
Taking the muttered word as a compliment, Draco nodded. He wasn't certain just when exactly he'd stopped being afraid of Sirius Black and his insane eyes, but it was clear to him now that Harry's godfather wasn't as dangerous as he'd thought. "And proud of it."
Harry grinned at the way Sirius rolled his eyes again, glad to see that not all the relationships between their two houses were strained. Not that he found it hard to deal with Slytherins, but it was nice to see that Sirius was treating Draco almost like he treated Ron and Hermione.
It was also good that the banter was taking them away from the topic of Snape and honesty; he didn't want to explain more about it, pretty certain that no words could really describe the whole thing.
Remus coughed. "House pride aside... Are we going to be ready for whatever happens next?"
"Yes." They had to be. Harry had to believe all their plans would work and that they would indeed be ready for Voldemort's attacks. "We will deal with Voldemort and the Ministry will deal with the rest of the world."
He didn't really like the way he felt about the whole mess right now, but was honest enough to admit that Fudge's death made things easy. At least now he didn't have to worry about the Ministry's agenda and power plays.
"Oh fuck!"
Everyone turned to Ron, who had been sitting in silence until now, nursing his hot chocolate.
"Ron?" Hermione poked at him. "You okay?"
"I.... Fuck!" Completely shocked, Ron looked around the room. "Oh fuck! My dad's the Minister for Magic!"
The words made Harry laugh out loud. "Just figured that out, eh?" He'd been wondering just exactly when would that sink in; Ron had been acting way too calm all day.
"Yeah.... Merlin! How the hell did that happen?" Ron's eyes were wild, his hands shaking so hard that Hermione grabbed his mug and placed it on the table before he could pour his drink all over his already crumpled robes.
Harry chose not to voice his earlier thoughts, just happy that they had someone to deal with the day to day business of their world who would let him deal with the war.
"I think your dad will be an excellent Minister," Hermione said, smiling at her friend. "At least he's not a pompous ass like..." She flustered, realizing that she was going to criticize a man who had just died.
Sirius didn't seem to have a problem with the whole thing, considering he was nodding firmly. "So true." He looked at Ron. "Minister Weasley. That doesn't sound bad."
That brought a blinding smile to Ron's lips.
Harry noticed the way Draco's eyes went blank for a moment, and had to wonder if the Slytherin was thinking back to the way things could have gone. After all, he had been preparing to become the son of one of the most important people in the Wizarding World.
The way the blank look turned into a speculating squint wasn't as worrying as it probably should have been.
"Of course that means things around here will change too." Harry didn't like being the voice of reason, but someone had to point this out. "We now have our great leader and the son of the Minister for Magic living under the same roof. People will be even more interested in us."
"Great..." Hermione sighed.
Remus nodded, agreeing with her completely. "Yes." He looked at Ron. "But I believe we should take this seriously; a situation like this might even put you in danger."
Hiding a crooked smile behind his cup, Harry listened to his friends discuss about being more careful from now on, wondering just how blind even those closest to him could be. Ron was already in more danger than most people could ever be, simply by being his friend.
But maybe it was good that they were talking about the whole thing. He needed everyone to be able to take care of themselves, and if this forced Ron to be more on guard from now on, so be it.
He sat back, content with just listening, glad that no one expected him to take charge of the discussion as if this was just another meeting. It wasn't like he had all the answers anyway.
This was now life, and he couldn't honestly say he was feeling bad about the way things had turned out. The way Arthur Weasley had been shocked but determined spoke volumes, and Harry was certain he would be able to organize the Ministry like he would organize his plug collection. There would be no more questions about how serious the war would be; Fudge's death had already showed everyone just how serious this was.
Part 6 Rumors about the attacks started to pour in next.
There had been a few incidents everyone knew of but didn't really speak about, but now it was different. For a few days after Fudge's death, there had been a silence, as if Voldemort had been regrouping his troops, but then a strange light phenomenon had colored the sky over a Muggle village, the only wizarding family there murdered and their house burned to the ground.
That had been the first. There had been others following.
It was still clear that people weren't convinced that there really would be a war at hand, something that was hard to remember when you lived right in the middle of the army constituted of a multitude of Aurors and the Order of the Phoenix.
Harry left Arthur Weasley to deal with the world in general, the determination showing on Ron's dad clearly indicating that he was more than capable of handling his new duties.
He could only imagine how strange it had to be to know so many things that couldn't be said out loud. Even if everyone could name known Death Eaters, no one went above a whisper yet, letting people like Lucius Malfoy live in peace. None of Voldemort's closest seemed to operate their usual business anymore, all disappearing to their estates for the time being.
Though he didn't say it, Harry did wonder if that was one of the biggest mistakes Voldemort was doing. History showed that their world hadn't crumbled during an attack inside the system, and the following battles had failed as well. But maybe if Lucius had lobbied with Fudge when all this began, they would now be bowing to the Dark Lord.
One thing was certain; it was now too late for intimidating those in high places. Arthur Weasley might not be a political creature like his predecessor, but he was intelligent enough to see the realities. He would also be the last person ever to suggest making a deal with Voldemort.
He was, however, very keen on investigating the rumors about attacks.
"We have another one."
The weary words greeted Harry as he stepped into the small meeting room that people were starting to call his office these days. He nodded at Dumbledore and then turned to Arthur Weasley who was holding a parchment in his hand, looking as tired as he felt. "A raid?"
"Yes." Since it looked like Dumbledore was just sitting there, Arthur cleared his throat before saying, "We think. There were no masked people in the village, no fighting, no..." He paused for a moment, clearing his throat again.
Neither Harry or Dumbledore said anything, both knowing all too well why the subject was so difficult, both also knowing that there was nothing to say.
Arthur shook his head slightly, as if driving away memories. "Sorry. Where was I? Oh, yes. No clear evidence of the Death Eaters making a physical attack, but someone cast the Dark Mark in the sky, and the... er... my Aurors have reported that there was a suspicious death in the village."
There was an awkward silence, as if there was more, but Arthur didn't know how to say it. He was casting questioning looks at the Headmaster, as if waiting for him to finish with the report.
Harry looked from Dumbledore to Arthur. "And?" There had to be a reason they were both looking so uncomfortable.
"The attack was made in Godric's Hollow."
The name of the small village made Harry's eyes widen and he stared at the two older wizards. "Godric's Hollow?" His very first home which he couldn't really remember anymore; the place where he'd lived with his mother and his father until Voldemort had come and taken it all away.
Arthur nodded. "Yes."
There was no need for further explanations or a plan; Harry knew he would have to go and see this for himself even if it could very well be a trap. It took a few minutes to gather a small group of people with him, Moody and a group of Aurors already ready for action, Ron a bit baffled but then eager to accompany Harry.
Another owl brought additional information from the Ministry by the time they were all ready.
"The witch..." Moody paused, trying to remember her name. Eventually he had to glance at the young woman standing next to him.
She didn't even flinch at the sight of his wonky eye. "Alice Skively, sir."
Moody nodded. "Yes, Skively. She has lived there for the past forty years, working on some animal project. The villagers say she is almost a hermit." His voice indicated he liked the idea. "They got worried when she didn't go out to get water from the old village well last night. She was known for her healing potions."
Harry could see why that was worriesome. It had been a new moon last night and if the witch had indeed been working with potions, she wouldn't have missed the chance to get one of the main ingredients.
He refused to think too hard about it as they Apparated to Godric's Hollow, keeping a tight rein on his emotions as Moody talked more about the witch and her ways and the Morsmordre that had announced her death to the world. Still, he had to wonder if Snape knew her. He tried to push the other thing out of his mind, and almost succeeded until his gaze met with the ruins just to the side of the small house they were heading to.
The years had made the place almost unrecognizable, and if he didn't know the tale, he might have thought it was an ancient church or a castle, somehow allowed to remain untouched by anything but time.
Harry didn't know what the name of the place should have made him feel, but strangely enough, he felt nothing. Seeing the grass grow on ruins didn't make his own past any more tangible to him, and the wildness of trees and bushes surrounding what was left of the Potter home just gave the place a sleepy look.
It had been the house where his parents had been happy, where he had lived the first months of his life with them. How could the thought of that time make him anything but happy and maybe a bit wistful?
If Voldemort had intended to make him do something rash because of this, he was sorely mistaken.
"Harry? You okay?" Touching Harry's shoulder, Ron looked at him.
Harry took a last glance at the mold covered stones and then turned to his friend, smiling a little. "Yeah. I'm all right." It was not even a lie.
Without another look back, he continued towards the scene of the crime.
A group of Aurors and Order members were standing outside the small house next to the ruins, all looking rather green. One young Auror was leaning against the wall, throwing up in the bush of pale yellow roses. All the others tried not to pay attention to him and milled around, trying to look like they were actually busy.
"Stop milling around you fools!" Moody didn't seem to be in the mood of tolerating lollygagging. He limped towards the Aurors, his eye rolling wildly in its socket. "I want the report. Now!"
"Oi, Seamus!" Ron yelled. He wasn't surprised to see him here. After all, Seamus seemed to be in the front line of action just like he'd always been back at Hogwarts.
Seamus turned slowly to nod at Ron.
There were too many people, too many voices calling out at the same time, and Harry hesitated between listening to one of the Aurors stammer at Moody and going to see for himself. He didn't want to really go into the house, but a part of him knew he had to.
"Let's go." He barely glanced at Ron before taking the first step.
Gesturing with his hand, his movement oddly wooden, Seamus guided Harry and the others inside.
Harry closed his eyes as he saw the scene of the crime, understanding perfectly why the Auror was retching outside the small hut. It wasn't only the sight, it was also the smells; the sweet cloying scent of lavender mixed with the overpowering stench of decay.
He didn't want to look again, but he had to. Forcing himself to open his eyes, he took in the horrendous sight in front of him; the body of a witch, curled on the floor next to the fireplace with her eyes staring lifeless towards a small bundle of fur, her hand reaching out for another. It made bile raise to Harry's mouth, and he had to swallow hard so that he wouldn't have to join the vomiting Auror outside.
It made no sense. This place was far from everything, even the vicinity of the ruins that made this village so famous couldn't explain this massacre. He didn't even remember the name of the woman who lay dead amongst her dead cats, even though Moody had said it before they got here. There was no reason they were all dead, no reason at all.
"What the hell happened here?" Ron could only whisper. His face was white as he tried not to look too closely at the small furry bodies lying all around the room. "What the hell happened here, Harry? Why did they do this? And how?" He couldn't believe anyone could have managed to do something like this, especially with the wards still around the hut.
"I don't know." It was a lie; Harry could well guess.
Seamus said hollowly, "They were poisoned."
It only confirmed what Harry already suspected. The strong odor of lavender he'd smelled ever since he'd stepped inside was clearly coming from a broken vial that was forgotten on the floor next to the fireplace, just a few steps away from the dead witch.
Sent through the floo, the poison fumes had probably killed even before the witch had noticed the whole thing.
Quiet and lethal, leaving behind nothing but the scent of death.
This was a message, nothing more, most likely ordered by Voldemort himself. Harry wasn't even surprised. A man who could walk into a house to kill a young couple and a baby could definitely kill a woman and half a dozen cats to send a message.
Ron tried to say something, but instead of forming words, he gagged and then rushed out of the small house. He almost collided with Seamus on his way out.
Sighing, Harry let him go and simply stood there, staring at the witch. He felt like he should do something or at least bear witness and nothing he could ever do would do a thing for this woman. Not even destroying Voldemort would change this, wouldn't bring her back.
"I'm sorry. I'm so sorry," he whispered quietly as Seamus stepped even farther away, hoping his housemate hadn't heard the way his voice broke with the useless apology.
The words didn't make him feel any better.
Seamus was walking away from the witch, his eyes going from her to the cats, looking fragile. He reached out a few times, his expression growing more brittle as none of the small animals responded to his touch.
"Seamus?" Harry asked, worried about his friend. "Seamus, what is it?"
He could see that Seamus didn't really hear him, so focused on his desperate search.
It was unclear what he was searching for. Harry tried not to wince every time Seamus moved on, from one dead cat to another, his movements almost frantic now.
Maybe this was something Seamus needed to do so that he could finally join the Auror -- and probably Ron too -- at the rosebush.
At the other end of the room, Seamus was looking at the last sad bundle on the floor. Bending down to touch the body of a grey kitten with his fingertips, Seamus yelped as he felt the small bundle move against his touch. "He's alive!" He lifted the kitten up, staring at it in shock.
It seemed as if he didn't even notice his fingers lose their grip on his wand.
Harry watched it bounce on the floor once and then lay there.
"Thank Merlin..." Seamus whispered as he ran his hand gently over the kitten's back. "Thank Merlin..."
Moody and his assistant banged the door open and walked into the hut, neither paying any attention to Seamus. "Who cleared the scene?" Moody asked, his expression thunderous.
"I don't know. One of the Aurors?" Harry turned his attention away from Seamus. "Why?"
Moody didn't waste any time launching into an angry rant about constant vigilance and the fact that they could have all been killed when they stepped into the hut if there were still poisonous fumes in the air. He was still ranting as his assistant guided him, Harry and Seamus out, not noticing how Harry picked up a wand from the floor and tucked it inside Seamus' robes.
Apparently Seamus didn't notice either, too busy petting the little kitten.
There was nothing they could really do here but to talk to the shocked people milling around the street and then obliviate the Muggles who had joined the crowd. The Aurors didn't need any instructions; most had been through this before.
It was all very efficient, looking professional, and Harry watched from the distance as everyone did their jobs.
He was beginning to realize all the implications of this horrendous attack, and by the time the Aurors were finished, he was anxious to get to Hogwarts. This was far from over, and even though the poor witch didn't seem to have any family to console, Harry knew for a fact that there was someone who might need his company tonight.
The grounds here were already covered by Aurors, and Mr. Weasley could organize whatever happened next with Dumbledore. They could deal with this.
Seeing Ron stand at Seamus' side, scratching the kitten and looking rather freaked out, Harry went to mutter a few excuses to him that didn't really fool his friend. It didn't matter; he simply needed Ron to tell Sirius that he wasn't going to come home that night.
"You're going to Snape, right?" Muttering it quietly so that none of the Aurors could hear, Ron made a slight face.
Harry stiffened, the ugly rant about duty and honor and caring clawing its way out of his throat and he barely managed to shove all the anger back. Then he realized Ron had absolutely no idea what he was talking about. "Ron, she was poisoned. This was not aimed to hurt me." Not only him.
He wasn't going to spend the evening away from his duties and work, finally succumbing to the need that had burned inside since he'd accepted the responsibility over the Order.
"Oh." Ron frowned. Then it dawned on him. "Oh! Yeah, sorry. I'll tell Sirius you're not coming home, then."
Harry couldn't say anything, he just clasped his hand on Ron's shoulder for a moment and then let him go back to Seamus.
There were a few people walking past Harry as he headed to the dungeons, but fortunately no one tried to stop him for a conversation. From the very morose looks some of them threw at him, he could tell that the news had already spread here.
It only made him hurry towards the dungeons, but when he was finally there, standing in front of the familiar door, he hesitated.
What if Snape wasn't there? Or what if he hadn't heard the news yet, and it would be Harry's job to tell him about the dead witch and the poison that had killed her? The mere thought was enough to make him nauseous.
Sighing, Harry rested his forehead against the cold stone wall. It was a familiar and almost comforting feeling, a moment of respite before facing a battle he had chosen to fight. He had absolutely no idea what he would say to Snape, but he couldn't stay away right now.
He didn't say anything as he slid his hand over the snake, wondering for a moment if the door would even open to him. When the wards simply tinged against his skin like always, he took that as a good sign.
There were no words of greeting as he stepped into Snape's rooms. Not that he'd expected there to be any.
Snape was standing next to the fireplace, his hands moving almost frantically between a cauldron and piles of ingredients. He barely glanced at Harry, choosing to ignore him after checking the intruder.
Hot fumes filled the room.
Harry's eyes widened as he saw the broken vials on the floor by the door. There was a burn mark on the wall next to him, as if someone had thrown a fire charm at the stones. At least now he wouldn't have to worry about how to tell Snape; he obviously knew already, and his reaction was exactly what Harry had feared.
He didn't say anything. The silence in the room was brittle somehow, and he wasn't going to destroy whatever peace there was left. Moving quietly towards the cupboard, he kept his gaze on Snape's back, hoping his slow movements wouldn't drive the man to throw him out of his rooms.
He grabbed a broom from the cupboard and went to brush the shards off the floor, working slow enough to make as little sound as possible.
The message Voldemort had sent had indeed been understood. Harry breathed in the myriad of scents floating from the broken bottles, knowing well that there were dried branches of lavender in the cupboard. Snape had been the Dark Lord's Potions master for years, one of his best assets; whatever poisons he still had were undoubtedly made by Snape and using them to kill people was an accusation on its own.
Clearly hitting Snape where it hurt the most.
Guilt was a familiar feeling for Harry; it could eat you alive better than any other emotion. This was probably worse than anything, for Snape knew without any doubts that this was his doing. No matter how he tried to leave his past behind, the Dark Lord would never really let him go.
Harry pushed the shards into a pile, sweeping the floor with a steady motion. He couldn't even begin to guess what was going on in Snape's mind now. Snape was always the first one to make acerbic comments about his need to self flagellate over things that went wrong, but it seemed he was very good at it too.
Especially when no one could deny he had a very good reason for it.
There were no more shards here, so Harry walked to where deep yellow potion was slowly oozing down the wall back on top of the broken bottle. He took a better hold on the broom and started sweeping the floor again.
"For Merlin's sake, Potter!" The angry words were shouted. "You don't have to do that!"
Freezing for a moment, Harry lifted his gaze to see Snape glare at him. He didn't say anything, because he couldn't think of anything that would work right now. If he tried to actually put his thoughts into words, Snape would most likely explode.
He had never before really understood how it felt on this side; when you wanted to make someone feel better and nothing you could say or do would make any real difference. Everything in Snape's demeanor warned him to stay away from him, so a hug or some other form of touch wouldn't do. Snape hated unnecessary babble, tolerated it most of the time but definitely not now.
So this was all that was left.
Harry was going to stay here and try to show Snape his support without being a total idiot. Maybe it would help if he tried to make things just a little better, even if it was nothing more than sweeping the floor clean and bringing some resemblance of order into the chaos.
"You..." Squeezing the small jar filled with something looking familiarly like a bezoar so hard his knuckles turned white, Snape growled, unable to finish his sentence. He turned back to his cauldron, ignoring Harry completely.
A moment later the faint sounds of glass shards being swept off the floor filled the silence in the room.
Harry didn't know what Snape was working on, but he knew that it was something vital to the man now. There was no sign of the usual silent pleasure of brewing in Snape, his movements almost distraught. Observing him quietly, Harry kept sweeping the already clean floor.
There was really nothing else to do.
Stirring the brewing potion, Snape concentrated on his work and tried to convince himself he didn't care if Harry stayed or left.
Talking to Harry about anything would be a waste of time right now. This potion was needed sooner or later, and he intended to make enough for the whole Order, including everyone from the Ministry. He should have thought of this ages ago, when they had considered the Dark Lord's plan of using exotic beings as a weapon! Whatever sludges some hapless idiot would now make for Voldemort wouldn't be of concern; Snape's own work would be the worst thing they encountered.
The slight shift in the scent wafting from the cauldron was enough to tell Snape the potion was ready. He grabbed a scoop and drizzled a portion into a cup.
A self mocking smile appeared on his lips as he stared at the one thing that would slow down most of the poisons he'd once brewed long enough for someone to make an antidote. He didn't need to drink this. Once, so many years ago it seemed like eternity, he had sampled most of the things he'd ever thought of, trying to protect himself from everything.
He wasn't ashamed of his survival instinct, but he wasn't especially proud of it right now either.
Snape knew he'd have to bottle the potion before it congealed, but he couldn't go to the cupboard for the empty bottles yet.
"Potter."
Harry almost dropped the broom as his name rang in the room. "Yes?" He hoped Snape wouldn't ask him to leave, for that would only lead into a shouting match.
Face unnaturally pale, Snape offered the small cup at Harry. "Drink this."
He didn't want to explain, but thought he should. How could anyone ever accept his brews again without knowing exactly what they were? "That should delay the effects of most of the poisons I..." And after all these years of being brutally honest with himself, he still couldn't say it without almost choking. "Poisons I made for Voldemort."
"Thank you." Lifting the cup to his lips even before Snape was finished with his explanation, Harry drank the bitter potion, not hesitating for a moment.
The trust he showed made Snape shake with utter shock. How could Harry be such a fool as to trust him? No one should; not after everything that had happened. He wanted to yell at Harry, to curse him and drive him away, but there was a flaw in that; he didn't think anything he could say would manage that.
He took the cup from Harry, placing it on the table before going back to his cauldron. There was a lot to do, bottling the brew and then cleaning up. It would give him something to focus on.
Shutting out everything else, he turned back to his work, to the bubbling potion that was so different from those he'd made ages ago. Poisons, truth potions that might kill the subjects or at least drive them mad, dark potions meant to harm and maim.
He'd faced his deeds ages past, when there had been nothing in his world but pain and disgust at what he'd done. There would never be anything to give him any kind of a redemption and no matter what he did, he would always have to carry his past sins with him. Killing Voldemort wouldn't change that, going to Azkaban wouldn't change that. Even his own death would not take away all the pain and horror he had once inflicted the world.
Working helped. It didn't change everything, but it did make a difference. It had been the one thing Dumbledore had pointed out when he'd turned away from the Death Eaters, and he'd held onto those words like they could really save him some day. He didn't know he really believed in them, but he had to at least try, had to keep working.
Wallowing didn't help; it would be such a Gryffindor thing to do, wasting time in idle daydreams. He could not change the past, but he'd make sure they would survive the present.
Snape moved mechanically, filling small bottles with the pale blue potion.
The quiet sound of the broom brushing the floor had never ceased. Harry kept the motion steady even when he was sure he'd got all the shards, real and imaginary. The silence was still tense, but he tried not to add to the tension.
Looking up, he realized Snape had finished with the bottling. There was a large wooden tray filled with rows of small bottles on the table but Snape was standing next to his cauldron, looking like he was rooted there.
He put the broom away and sent the shards to the bin with a flick of his wand. Half expecting Snape to comment on the futility of his work, he turned to walk to the table.
"Snape?" Not even his soft footsteps had brought the man out of his somber thoughts.
Slowly, Snape turned to glare at him. The expression in the black gaze was once again blank; hiding everything, the shield as unbreakable as ever.
"I'll take these to Albus." Grabbing the tray, Harry nodded towards the bathroom. "You should take a shower while I'm gone." He kept his tone as calm as possible.
The glare held real emotion now. Fury.
Harry didn't show any reaction to the angry way Snape looked at him, he simply walked to the door. He did however notice that Snape made his way towards the bathroom almost immediately.
Slamming the bathroom door shut so hard one of the panes cracked, Snape stalked towards the shower. Damn Harry Potter! He hated such blatant show of complete stupidity and Gryffindor superiority! Just because the idiot guessed correctly that he intended to hand the potion to the Headmaster, it didn't give him any rights to order him around in his own rooms.
He took a long shower, refusing to admit he'd really needed one. The hot water was almost scalding his skin, but he didn't care.
Some people used this as a ritual, washing away all the ache and pain and bad memories. Snape had never understood such unimaginable stupidity. Letting hot water and soap remove the sweat and dirt was comforting, but it never took anything else away. All those things that stained him were deeper than the smears on his skin and could never be washed away.
Finishing his bathing routines was mechanical. Snape applied the protective salve on his arm without looking into the mirror, knowing all too well what would greet him there.
The lights were low in his rooms as he padded out of the bathroom wrapped in an old but clean robe. He wasn't particularly surprised to see Harry sitting on his chair, looking at him expectantly.
"Potter." It came out with a note of resignation, no sign of anger in his voice anymore. "You're not going to leave no matter what I say, are you?"
"No."
Snape hadn't thought so.
"Are you hungry?" Harry asked quietly.
"No." It had been ages since Snape had felt this nauseous after brewing potions, but he couldn't even imagine eating anything right now. "I'm just..." He paused for a few heartbeats, seeing from the knowing look on Harry's face that he knew already. "Tired."
Admitting such weakness made him wish he could feel anger instead of the bone deep weariness. It didn't exactly help that Harry nodded slightly, his expression saying that he knew exactly how Snape felt.
Harry got to his feet. "Okay." He padded towards the bedroom, not looking if Snape was coming or not.
Sighing with exasperation, Snape followed him, extinguishing the lights from the living room and then closing his bedroom door firmly behind him. He didn't know exactly what Harry wanted of him right now, but he hoped it wasn't anything complicated. He just wanted to go to bed and pretend he could sleep.
There had been time when he would have gone for the sleeping potion he kept on the nightstand, gulping down a measure quickly before putting the bottle away again so that the insane thought of simply emptying it so that he might not wake up ever again would barely surface.
He didn't even think about the potion right now, not because he feared choosing the coward's way out, eternal oblivion, or even being reluctant of giving Harry more power over him by showing just how weary he was.
Making his way slowly to the bed, he watched Harry strip down to his boxers and then joined him under the covers without words. He didn't want to talk, didn't want to share things with Harry, knowing all too well that the idiot already knew most about what made him so angry anyway. He curled on his side, his back to Harry.
There was a rustling sound as Harry pulled covers over them both.
"Nox," Harry murmured quietly before lying down next to Snape, chest against his back. His arm curled around Snape's body instinctively and he sighed as he could feel how tense he was.
He waited for a moment, his touch light, just a reminder that Snape wasn't alone here. Then, he pulled Snape a little closer, muttering, "Come here, you."
For a moment Snape tensed even more. He was not in the mood for this and sex would certainly not bring the slightest of relief tonight. It would only remind him of the time when all the pain and the sorrow had been hidden under layers of debauchery, turning him into something he didn't want to remember anymore.
Harry's arm around him tugged him back a little.
"That's better." There was a soft kiss on his cheek. "Good night, Snape."
Swallowing hard, Snape closed his eyes.
There was a soft sigh behind him and then silence. No other touches, no words; only a warm presence against his back, steady breathing caressing his neck.
He waited for words, maybe awkward consolences or empty phrases and then realized that there wold be none. Harry wasn't stupid enough to ask if he wanted to talk about it, and wouldn't waste his breath on futile condolences.
The realization made him relax slightly, molding his back against Harry's chest.
The world didn't become a better place because of the idiot holding him. This simple touch took away no memories, cured none of the old hurts. But somehow it was enough right now.
Relaxing completely into the strong embrace, Snape pushed all thoughts away, content on just lying here with Harry until he could drift into fitful sleep.
Part 7 Amazingly enough, it was Blaise Zabini who actually asked Harry how he was doing the next morning as he sat down at his usual place at the Headquarters to read through the reports piled on his desk.
It was equally amazing that when Harry said he was fine, he wasn't lying.
Suppressing a yawn, Harry ignored the way people were staring at him and wished he could have stayed in bed instead of dragging himself back here so damn early. But he'd known he was needed here even before Snape had said it after breakfast.
Duty before anything else and all that crap.
The thought brought a cold smile to his lips, probably shocking everyone even more than his early appearance with the Potions master.
He was glad he'd followed his instincts and stayed with Snape last night; no matter how he accepted his place in their world, he wasn't going to sacrifice everything in order to keep up appearance. So if people wanted to see his absence as grief or shock, they were allowed to do so.
Yesterday had been awful, and the badly slept night only slightly better, but Harry knew that whatever Voldemort had intended to do with his attack, he had failed.
Snape's calm and quiet words this morning had showed he wasn't crushed under the remorse, just as Harry couldn't really find it in him to wallow.
A part of him wondered if that was a bad thing; if he should feel awful and blame himself. But he simply didn't have it in him to waste time doing exactly what Voldemort wanted.
He was going to sit through yet another day of endless meetings and maybe practice dueling with Arabella later on, maybe when the others were doing something else and he could fight as dirty as he wanted, knowing that she wouldn't be shocked by anything he threw at her anymore.
Sighing, he focused his gaze on the report again.
The small room was half empty, most of the people lounging around reading or scribbling down things were younger members of the Order and Hogwarts professors. Harry was glad of it; the new people always seemed to be so very much aware of where he was and what he was doing, and the peaceful atmosphere was exactly what he needed right now. No one was approaching him with anything, no one wanted to ask him questions.
Harry leaned against the backrest of his chair, stretching his legs in front of him and looked around.
Maybe he should have a cup of tea like Blaise who was sitting near by, his face blank as he sipped from his cup. He was certainly not going to pay any attention to the heated discussion between McGonagall and Hooch on the other side of the room, nor was he going to spend one moment worrying about the rather theatrical way Trelawney was shuffling through her deck of cards.
He pushed the report away, spotting extra cups on the table next to Blaise. A cup of tea was never a bad idea. "Hey, Blaise, you mind if I..."
Blaise turned around slowly at his hesitant words, his expression showing nothing but confusion. Even as Harry's words died away, he cocked his head as if he was hearing things that weren't really making sense, trying to pinpoint the source.
"Er... Blaise?" Harry looked at the Slytherin, wondering if he should alert someone. It almost looked like Blaise was going to have a fit.
Raising his head as if to look at Harry, Blaise tensed, his whole body going rigid. "Harry!"
It didn't sound pained, but Harry leaned forward anyway, ready to catch Blaise if he fell. "What is it?"
"Snape!"
That wasn't exactly what Harry had expected. "Huh?" He cast a look around instinctively, even though he knew Blaise couldn't see anything in the room, but there was no trace of Snape anywhere.
Frowning, Blaise shook his head. "Something's not right. No, wait..." He raised his face a little, sightless eyes staring at nothing. "Draco?"
Harry stood up. "What's wrong?"
"Trouble!" Scrunching his scarred face into a deep frown, Blaise turned to Harry, starting to get to his feet as well, as if something was calling for him. There was no sign of hesitation in him anymore. "Snape and Draco are in trouble. Go to them! Now! Go!" He gestured unerringly at the door.
There was something compelling about him, making Harry gawk for only a second before running across the room as fast as he could.
Behind him, the room was full of shocked babble, Trelawney's voice raising above the commotion in a wail about Blaise Zabini having the Sight.
Harry didn't really care what had caused Blaise to urge him to go; it could be the Sight or it could be intuition similar to Draco's or maybe it was something quite different. The only thing that mattered was the uneasy feeling between his shoulder blades telling him that something was indeed wrong and that the only thing that mattered was getting to Snape and Draco before anything bad could happen.
Right now, those two should be in a meeting with people who were planning the extended training sessions. That meant Remus would be there as well and wherever he was, Sirius would be too. Harry refused to think they would have anything to do with the naked panic in Blaise's voice, more concerned that they might be in danger as well.
Passing by groups of stunned people, he ran towards the big training hall, hand already reaching for his wand.
This should be a safe place, safe from Voldemort and his people. He couldn't even guess what was happening, but that one thing kept playing in his head; the wards should indicate if it was a Death Eater attack, and anything else was just too horrible to contemplate.
"Harry! Thank Merlin you're here!" Lavender called out from the other side of the hallway. "They've gone insane!"
Not pausing to even ask of whom she was talking, he pushed his way through a group of gawking youngsters and stepped into the training hall just in time to see one of the Aurors he'd seen at the scene at Godric's Hollow aim a curse at Draco.
It was an insane scene; a battlefield inside the Order Headquarters, the fight almost like an organized training session if not for the looks on everyone's face.
Harry could only stare as Draco deflected the curse and then another one was aimed at the Aurors, not by him or Snape who was standing right there next to him, but by Bill Weasley who was covering his youngest brother with his body, his look grim. Next to him, two other redheads stood with their wands aimed at the Aurors.
Like so many times before, a strange calm set on Harry and he catalogued the situation with no hint of emotion. Two Aurors were down, but it didn't seem to concern the rest of them, more intent on aiming curses at Draco and Snape than checking their comrades. On the other side of the room, Snuffles was growling low as he stood between Remus and the curses, the warning coming from his throat the only sound echoing in the room before yet another curse was aimed.
That made Harry's detachment disappear and he banged the door fully open, stepping into the room.
"Enough!"
Everyone froze instantly.
In the sudden silence the yell caused, the Weasley brothers moved closer to Ron as if it was as important to them as breathing. Remus sighed with relief, putting his wand away and sharing a knowing look with Sirius who had morphed back into his human form the moment the door banged open.
The parchments on a side by table were fluttering as if they were disturbed by a magical wind. Lights were flickering, and the sense of barely controlled rage filled the room.
Squeezing his hands into fists, Harry stood there, taking in the situation, glaring at the Aurors facing Snape and Draco, both those on their feet and those who were lying still on the ground. He ignored them after the first glance, concentrating on his friends.
"Are you all right?"
The parchments fluttered harder, a stack of documents falling on the floor.
"We're fine," Snape said, his tone unreadable.
Harry wondered if it was pride talking. He knew Snape wouldn't admit he was in pain, not in front of anyone, especially the Aurors. "Would someone care to explain just exactly is happening here?"
His tone indicated it wasn't exactly a question, and not aimed at his friends.
After a moment of silence, one of the Aurors cleared his throat. "We... We thought that... He said that..." He looked down, unable to meet the angry green gaze anymore.
"Some of these people made comments about Slytherin Death Eaters." It was clear from Ron's voice that he couldn't believe he was saying this. "Er... Things got kind of out of hand after that."
"Yeah! He tried to curse us!" Outraged, one of the Aurors pointed at Snape who was still holding his wand ready. "With a Dark Curse!"
"Is that so?" Harry barely even looked at the Auror.
Snape nodded. "Yes." He offered no excuses or explanations. Words had never really changed anything. The facts were never on his side as long as his past was dragged into the daylight as a reason to justify attacks against him.
"They started it!" Sirius snarled. He didn't care about what the Aurors had said about Snape, but he drew the line on trying to curse Malfoy. Besides, having some hothead kill Snape would make Harry sad and no matter how he hated the git, Sirius never wanted that. No one was going to make Harry suffer if he could help it, and if someone were to have the satisfaction of killing Snape, Sirius thought that should probably be him.
At least the Aurors were smart enough not to cast any accusations on Sirius Black. Ever since Harry's little speech about his innocent godfather, they'd known better than to say bad things about him out loud. That didn't mean they would really trust the man.
No one who had been sentenced to Azkaban could be a true innocent. That simply didn't happen!
"But he cursed us with Dark Curses!" It was repeated as if the simple fact would be enough to explain every action.
Ron muttered quietly, "He didn't really hurt any of them." It had been strange to watch Snape fight the Aurors. Even stranger to stand next to him and assist him in his fight. He wasn't as good at curses as some, but even he could see when someone tried not to use unnecessary force.
The world was definitely turning upside down; him fighting Aurors, Snuffles defending Snape and Malfoy and Harry looking angry enough to kill someone.
His own fingers felt nerveless and all he wanted was to put down his wand and lean against Bill. His big brother looked just as murderous as Harry did. Next to him, both Charlie and George were holding their wands ready, pointing them at the Aurors with no hesitations.
"Why?" The question hanged in the air unanswered until Harry added, "Why would you attack on any member of the Order?"
The looks he received for that were incredulous. Did he really need it spelled out? Why would anyone confront someone like Malfoy or Snape? The answer should be obvious.
"My parents were killed by the Death Eaters," one of the Aurors spat out. "His father was seen at their house." He pointed at Draco.
Harry nodded curtly. "When you see Lucius Malfoy, you can challenge him into a duel if you want to. I'm sure most of us will cheer you on. But in case you haven't noticed, this is not Lucius Malfoy. His name is Draco, and he's a member of the Order. He's not the enemy."
The Aurors fidgeted uncomfortably.
There had been rumors and eye witness reports of the things that had happened in Hogwarts and Hogsmeade, and it was documented that Draco Malfoy did not only live with Harry Potter but had actually saved his life a while back. Maybe he wasn't the enemy, but someone else in this room definitely was.
"Snape is a Death Eater. There is nothing he can ever do to change that!"
This time there were others nodding, with no sign of the earlier embarrassment. Attacking the boy had been dubious, but this one was a legitimate target. They all knew it, had seen the Dark Mark on him.
Gaze hard, Harry said, "These men are both members of the Order. They're also both my friends. If anyone has a problem with that, they're free to leave." His voice didn't waver. "Of course leaving is only helping Voldemort and his people. Your choice."
"But..." It was clear the Aurors were not convinced.
Harry shivered at the rage that went through him. He had never felt like this towards anyone but Voldemort and his people and feeling the surge of white hot rage now was enough to make him nauseous. Squeezing his hands into fists, he growled out, "They are my friends." It didn't matter if Snape didn't like him using the word; he would probably like the other descriptions Harry wanted to use even less.
The silence in the room was absolute.
"You don't harass them. You don't hurt them." Harry could almost feel Snape's disgusted glare on the back of his head and didn't turn to look at him. "And you definitely don't try to kill them!"
He wasn't going to tolerate this. They would have to learn how to work together if they wanted to beat Voldemort. "If you have a problem with my friends, you talk about it. With them or with me, or if you prefer, you raise the question with Minister Weasley. But if I ever see you raise your wand against either of them again, I will kick your sorry arses."
The Order members who'd slowly drifted into the room to see what was going on nodded in agreement.
They didn't really like Malfoy, but if he was going to fight his own family to do the right thing, he couldn't be a total git. With Snape it was different; dislike was too mild a word. Still, he'd saved their people and was helping them with the training.
Above all else was the loyalty they had to the Order. No one could argue that. If they had to choose between them or the Aurors, who had until now stayed locked in their ivory tower, hiding from the very real fight they were engaged in, the members of the Order would choose their own. Even if they were Malfoy and Snape.
"But.... It's Snape! He's a..."
Harry knew this couldn't become a real fight. Squabbles between Aurors and the Order would be utter stupidity. Keeping control over his emotions, he said quietly, "Snape has proven his loyalty over and over again. If I thought he was really a Death Eater, I would hex him myself."
He was certain the glare focused at him was murderous now.
It didn't matter. Snape could be as angry as he wanted, as long as he was alive. Everything he said was true. He trusted Snape. To make it absolutely clear, he repeated the words out loud, "I trust Snape with my life." All right, so it came out a bit differently than he'd planned, but he couldn't help it now.
That definitely shocked most of the people in the room, and not only the Aurors.
Not trusting his ability to keep other words unsaid, Harry muttered darkly, "Now get the hell out of here and don't come back before you've thought about what I said." His gesture towards the door was impossible to misinterpret.
The Aurors lined out without a word, most looking either shocked or embarrassed.
It was rather like a father sending his children to bed without supper.
"What a lovely declaration."
To Harry's amazement Snape actually sounded amused. Nodding firmly, he said, "I think they needed to hear the truth." Seeing the amusement turn into something slightly malevolent, he added, "Or at least a part of the truth."
Snape refused to comment on that, but he did wonder what the world would say if they knew what Harry really meant with his words.
The crowd of Order members was slowly relaxing, people lowering their wands now that the Aurors were gone. Casting curious looks at the disheveled Slytherins as well as Harry, they started muttering at each other, all fairly excited by the near disaster.
"Is he really... You think Snape's your friend?" No one was surprised it was Lavender asking the question. She'd always been too curious for her own good.
Harry stared at her, not saying a word.
The atmosphere in the room was becoming oppressive the longer the silence continued. It didn't take long for most of the people to find some excuse to leave.
Walking out of the room after Parvati, Lavender whispered, "I told you I was right about that dear man all along!"
Snape shivered at that. Not again! He would rather face an army of angry Aurors than the well meaning Gryffindors.
Somewhere behind the Weasleys, Sirius couldn't completely suppress the snort that wanted to escape.
Ignoring the people walking out, Harry turned to look at his friends. "Is anyone hurt?" That was the most important thing, even though other questions would undoubtedly follow.
Bill Weasley shook his head in behalf of all the Weasleys, casting a glance at Hermione as well. "Nah, we're all right." He still didn't know what this was all about, but the moment the Aurors had started casting curses and Ron had stepped in the fight right next to Malfoy, it had become their fight as well.
He was not going to lose another brother, no matter what.
"We're fine." Leaning against Sirius even though he didn't really need the support, Remus nodded as well. "They didn't really get to do anything serious before you appeared; there were some words and then some shoving and pushing before the curses, that's all."
The look Harry cast at him showed that he should probably practice his calming words. These ones weren't really working.
Harry turned to the Slytherins. "And you?" He could see that Draco was just shaken and not hurt. He knew that Snape had most likely shielded him from most of the curses, Slytherin solidarity showing in this unexpected moment.
It made him look at Snape more closely. He knew that the stubborn man would probably hide any and all injury even from people who were trying to help, choosing to suffer in silence and then self medicate in the dungeons.
Managing to curb the touch just barely, Harry asked, "Are you all right?" He could see the way Snape cradled his arm and could bet it was more than just a scratch.
"I'm fine." The words escaped before Snape could even think how ridiculous they would sound accompanying a flinch.
"Stop being so damn brave all the time!" Harry put his wand away and grabbed Snape's arm, noticing that his hands were shaking only when he touched the torn sleeve.
He was rarely this angry. It made him sick to think that this was done by those who were supposed to protect everyone. He didn't want to torture anyone, not even Voldemort. He wanted the war over, and if that meant killing the Dark Lord, then he would do it, but not like this. Not if it meant he was going to play with the man and take pleasure in doing so.
Muttering curses from under his breath, he peeled the black cloth away from Snape's arm, hissing with sympathy as he saw the blood. "You're bleeding!"
"What an astonishing observation." Of course he was bleeding! Snape wondered what inanity would come next. 'You're hurt?' It would definitely not surprise him.
"You'd better go and see Poppy about this." Harry doubted he would. More likely he'd try to heal it himself. "I'll come with you."
"You most certainly will not," Snape said. He didn't even bother to try to sound outraged at the suggestion; it was exactly what he'd anticipated. "I can take care of myself."
Harry wanted to disagree, but he managed to bite his lip. After a moment, he gave a curt nod. "All right. Go on then." He gazed at Hermione. "Would you please escort Snape back to Hogwarts? Take Mundungus with you just in case."
He was not going to see another one of his friends get hurt.
"Okay." Hermione was definitely not looking at Snape as she nodded, knowing that he would not like this at all.
"I don't need an escort!" Outraged, Snape drew himself straighter, ignoring the piercing pain on his arm. He was used to such agony already and didn't need this kind of fussing over.
Instead of arguing, Harry simply said, "Please." He didn't even try to hide his worry.
This was the one thing Snape couldn't argue against, not in public, and usually his half hearted arguments in private didn't work well either. "Fine!" He swept out of the room and headed towards the exit, not even waiting to see if Granger or anyone else was following him, quietly muttering darkly about the stupidity of overprotective idiots.
Back in the small meeting room, Harry was slowly letting go of the control, finally acknowledging the fact that he couldn't stop his hands from shaking. Damn it! Seeing the Aurors flinging curses towards his friends would probably haunt his dreams for a long time.
"Harry?" A hand landed on his shoulder. "Are you all right?"
Looking up, he saw Ron's concerned expression. He opened his mouth to say something vaguely assuring, but found out that he couldn't. "No." A deep breath. "I'm not all right. Those idiots almost killed you. They know you're my friends, and they still tried to..."
The bile rising to his mouth made him gag. They had really tried to hurt Draco and Snape. Maybe even kill them.
Looking around to see if there was something he could smash, he met with Bill Weasley's worried gaze. It made him hold his tongue, even though it was harder now to hold the nausea back. Seeing the four Weasley brothers stand side by side only reminded him of the losses.
He never wanted to lose another friend again. Not ever.
"No one really likes Slytherins." Nodding knowingly, George added, "And I've never heard anyone call Snape their friend before." He shook his head. "Defies all laws of nature."
Ignoring the heartwrenchingly familiar speech pattern, Harry squeezed his wand tighter. He knew it was a joke, but he didn't find it at all funny. "You don't know what you're saying." His throat hurt with the low growl his voice had turned into.
"Harry!" Seeing the rage bloom again in his friend's eyes, Ron stepped in before something horrendous happened. He knew Harry was mad at the Aurors and not George. "It's all right."
"No! It's not all right! They tried to kill my family! It's not all right!"
Maybe the Aurors had targeted only Snape and Draco, but they had ended up fighting against Ron and Hermione and Sirius and Remus and that was something Harry could not forgive!
Silence fell into the room after his declaration, broken only by his harsh breathing. The Weasleys all shared a very knowing glance of shared grief, while Draco was staring down at his shoes, mind completely blank.
Holding out his hand, Remus kept Sirius from going to Harry. He sensed it was too early for hugs.
Sirius wouldn't admit it, but he was glad of his touch. His mind was full of insane laughter at the word friend being used at someone like Severus Snape and the strong hand on his arm was grounding him, keeping the hysterical chuckles at bay.
"Harry..." Ron said quietly. "We're all right. No one got hurt. We're fine." He even made a gesture at Malfoy, who was still looking at the ground.
For a moment it looked like Harry would nod. Then he shook his head instead. "You and Malfoy are, but they hurt Snape." The rage was building again. On the table, the parchments were fluttering once more. "They tried to kill him!"
He wanted to scream out the words, march into the meeting hall and declare that any assault against his friends, especially Snape, was a direct assault on him.
"You really like Snape?" Open curiosity that was so clear in George's eyes also echoed in his voice. "Like, really like him? Honestly?"
Harry looked at him, unable to control his expression. All his fear and anger were plain to see. "Yes." He wondered how many times people would ask him this.
"I think we should leave the kids alone now." Murmuring the words quietly, Remus tugged on Sirius' sleeve. He was a bit astonished to have his friend follow him without speaking, but was glad anyway. Sirius would probably rant and rave later, when they were alone, but that would be all right.
He didn't think Harry could handle any more arguing right now.
The slam of the door barely registered as everyone was still staring at Harry, most in confusion.
It was George who let out the, "Why?" He sounded genuine in his confusion. Why would anyone like Snape? This had to be a joke, the biggest joke of all times, and he couldn't see the punch line.
Harry took a deep breath. It helped to dissolve some of the rage, but otherwise it didn't do anything to help. He'd known all along that sooner or later one of the Weasleys would ask the question, and he had no idea what to say to them.
He glanced at Ron, wondering if he could just blurt out the good old 'Harry is shagging Snape!'. That way he wouldn't have to explain it to anyone in his own terms.
To his disappointment, his friend just stood there, looking slightly embarrassed, as if determined not to say it again, even if he wanted to.
"I'm... Seeing Snape," Harry finally said. It sounded inadequate even in his own ears.
His words didn't seem to register. The older Weasleys were waiting for an explanation that would make sense.
"I'm with Snape. Seeing him. You know?" The way everyone kept staring told Harry that they didn't. "Oh for crying out loud! I'm having a... I'm with Snape! As in him and me and stuff!"
Three stunned pairs of eyes focused on Ron, asking for some kind of a confirmation. Grimacing at his brothers, Ron nodded. "Yeah. You got it right." He almost made an obscene gesture, but curbed it at the last minute, knowing Harry would probably curse him with something even Bill would have problems breaking. Or tell everyone he was shagging Malfoy. He didn't know which would be worse.
Bill tried very hard to act as if he wasn't totally stunned, failing miserably. Next to him, Charlie was frozen in place, able to only stare at Harry with his mouth open. He could understand people raising dragons and breaking ages old curses. Compared to having a relationship with someone like Snape, they were a piece of cake.
"Really?" George didn't pause to think as he saw Harry nod. "Is he any good?" His gaze glinted with mirth.
A couple of years ago that information would have been worth his weight in Galleons.
His brothers all groaned. "George!" It was definitely not tactful to say something like that. However, all four Weasleys were intrigued on whether Harry would answer or not.
Harry hoped he wasn't blushing. He knew Ron and his brothers, and they would tease him forever for it. "That's none of your business."
"Whoa! That good, eh?" George crowed out.
The leer was such a normal reaction; the first time Harry didn't feel like there was something very wrong about being with Snape. It made him grin back at George. "Well if you really must know..."
"No!" It came from Ron, echoed by his older brothers. "We really don't need to know that. Ever." Seeing that George was going to say something, Bill placed his hand on his brother's mouth just in case.
It was good to laugh at the whole thing.
Harry waited until even Ron stopped laughing, wishing he didn't have to remind them all of what was going on and knowing it was still his job. "Bill, I need to talk to your father. Would you please go and ask him to come here as soon as he can?"
He didn't want to ask any of the Aurors or the Ministry officials working in the Headquarters. He didn't trust any of them, not like he trusted the Weasleys.
"Yeah." Recognizing the question as a barely veiled order, Bill nodded immediately and headed towards the door with Charlie and George in tow.
The sound of the door closing behind them was loud, echoing in the training hall.
Before either Ron or Draco could say anything, Harry muttered, "Fuck!" Slowly, he managed to push his wand under his robes.
It was so uncharacteristic to Harry, Ron could only stare for a while. Damn, such language was his way of coping, not Harry's, and as soon as the thought materialized, he realized just how silly he was being. "Yeah. Indeed."
Draco said nothing, keeping his distance from the two Gryffindors.
Harry looked at Ron, his expression grave. "Thank you. I..." He didn't know how to say it. Ron disliked Snape, and no one really knew what he thought of Draco, probably Ron didn't know that himself either, but he had stood between them and the Aurors anyway. "Thank you, Ron."
"Sure. Anytime." Still feeling weird, Ron fingered his wand.
Looking slowly up from the floor, Draco muttered, "Yes. Thank you, Weasley." For once, there was no hint of sarcasm or a leer on his face.
Ron didn't know how to deal with Malfoy being honest and earnest, so he just shrugged. "Yeah." He didn't want to look too closely at the anger that had driven him to draw his wand at the Aurors, but it was a safe bet to say that it hadn't been to protect Snape.
"I... I should go and..." Gesturing at the door leading to the small changing room right next to the training hall, Draco hurried away before anyone could say a word.
Harry realized he probably needed some time alone. "We'll wait for you here." Turning to Ron, he muttered quietly, "I want you to stay with him today. Make sure none of the Aurors get close to him. Can you do that?"
Since it was a request for a favor, Ron could nod without hesitations. He'd thought of the same thing, but there was no force on earth that would make him volunteer to keep Malfoy safe. Not without a nudge from a friend anyway. "Sure."
The two friends stood alone in the large room, neither finding the silence oppressive, not really paying attention to the sounds of people walking and talking in the hallway. The door was firmly closed and Harry was certain no one would come to see what was going on.
Merlin! Wiping a hand down his face, he sagged against the wall. His hands weren't shaking anymore, but he knew the nausea would stay with him for a long time. It was a natural reaction to the shock, and he could only imagine how much worse it was for Ron, who had actually faced the Aurors with a wand drawn.
Squirming a little next to him, Ron murmured, "Harry... You..." He sounded like he didn't know how to finish that.
Harry let out an encouraging grunt, "Yes?" They were past all the lies and obfuscation. Whatever Ron needed to ask, he could. He'd try to even answer honestly.
"Do you ever have nightmares about those Death Eaters? When... When Bill... I mean when you... You know." Voice quiet, Ron let the words slip out. He didn't look at his friend, didn't want to see the pain his question would quite probably cause.
There was a long silence. Harry kept staring into the dueling platform on the far side of the room, his eyes unseeing. Did he ever dream of the men he had killed? He knew he could never tell his friend just how often. He dreamed of killing them over and over again or them killing Bill and Molly Weasley. Some nights the Death Eaters won, and he could see the green sparks flying at him.
The worst nights, their dead bodies morphed into Cedric Diggory, staring at him with unseeing eyes.
"Sometimes," he said, his voice tight in his throat.
Ron had known the answer, but he'd hoped he'd been wrong. "Do the dreams ever get better?" He didn't want to think he'd spend years seeing Terry's dead body in his dreams or staring into an Auror's wand as he stepped between it and Malfoy.
"I don't know." Harry wished he could assure his friend, but he couldn't. "I hope they will."
The quiet words made Ron stare. He'd never heard Harry sound like that; as if he'd seen too much and been through things that he did never want to think about again. It had to be the truth, and he hated it. "Oh." What could he say to that? Nothing, really.
Harry seemed to think that as well. "Yeah," he sighed.
Part 8 There was only one meeting in the meeting hall that day.
It didn't take long for the story of what had happened spread throughout the Headquarters, and for once people read their glorious leader correctly and didn't even try to approach him.
Harry didn't say anything about the incident as he returned to the reports with Ron and Draco almost as his shadows, except when he offered his thanks to Blaise Zabini.
The whispers became even more excited when Remus Lupin, Sirius Black and Minerva McGonagall joined the small group, all looking angry enough to hex someone. None of them really said anything, simply sat there and pretended to be busy with reports.
Waiting.
It was almost lunch time when the waiting finally ended with a group of redheaded men arriving in the Headquarters. Arthur Weasley barely stopped to greet Harry Potter before going to see to his youngest son, ignoring his protests that he was fine and pulling him into a hug.
That was a clear hint of how their new Minister felt about the earlier incident.
Announcing that there would be a meeting right after lunch, Harry guided Arthur Weasley as his guest to the mess hall and spent most of the lunch hour concentrating on his food instead of the worried looks that were thrown at their way.
Harry didn't like telling Mr. Weasley what to do, but right now, he didn't think it would be wise to confront the Aurors himself. Technically, they could still be considered to be under the Ministry's jurisdiction.
To his surprise, Arthur Weasley had nodded, looking slightly uncomfortable at the power he wielded, but prepared to deal with any problem he faced.
It shouldn't have been as big a surprise as it was, Harry thought, managing the first genuine smile in hours.
Even though the announcement had specifically mentioned 'Ministry officials, the Aurors and all those who had nothing better to do', the meeting hall was packed with people. Murmuring quietly, the Order members looked around to spot familiar faces, waiting to see Harry appear next to the Acting Minister any time now.
Harry stood just outside the door, hidden in shadows.
He wasn't prepared to face anyone right now, not wanting to be the one to tell these people to stop fighting amongst themselves as if he was the greatest authority here.
Watching quietly from the crack between the door and the stone wall, he focused his gaze on Arthur Weasley who was talking quietly to Dumbledore. He wondered if his reluctance to leave completely was because deep inside he knew he would be needed. Most likely. He was a realist, and only the most idiotic optimist would think this meeting would go well.
He had to force himself not to push the door open as he saw Snape appear in the meeting hall, his arm in a sling.
They were all in there; his friends and family, his Order and the Ministry, all ready to sit down and talk and still they were waiting for something more.
Well, if they were waiting for him, they'd have to wait for a lot longer.
Eventually Arthur Weasley stood up and raised his hand. "All right then." There was enough steel in his voice to make everyone quiet down.
Harry was impressed.
"I would like to know exactly what happened earlier today." Casting a look at the group of Aurors sitting close by, Arthur prompted, "Now."
One of the men that had been most enthusiastic about the attack stood up and gave a short but precise account of the fight as if he was used to reporting battles. He probably was.
"At the beginning of the meeting about training, Yabbersmith questioned the use of Unforgivables and other curses. There was a slight disagreement during which Mr. Lupin made a comment about things not being as black and white as some people wished to think."
There was excited babble and most people turned to stare at Remus who sat there with a carefully crafted nonexpression on his face.
The Auror cleared his throat. "There was some... heated discussion about the morality of teaching, followed by some questions about the teachers themselves."
This time the babble was just as excited, but the looks were aimed at Snape.
"Yes, professor Snape was the target of most such comments, and if I may say so, justifiably so!" the Auror added.
"No, I don't think you may say so, Mr. Purvis." Arthur Weasley shook his head slightly. "Go on."
A bit flustered, Purvis took a moment before continuing his story. "Er... Yes, sir. It was at that point that we noticed Mr. Malfoy in the room. Things got out of hand soon after that."
Harry could well imagine. No matter how much he liked Draco, he could be a smug bastard at times, and it was clear that simply looking into his face was too much for some people. It didn't make it right, but it explained some things.
"So you threatened Mr. Malfoy?"
"Yes." Purvis shrugged. "But he made some very nasty comments back, and then things got heated and..." He made a shrugging gesture. "There were curses."
Arthur Weasley nodded. "I see." He tapped his fingers against the table before asking, "Who threw the first curse? And do be truthful, Mr. Purvis. We can do a Priori Incantatem on your wands as you well know."
Before Purvis could say anything, another Auror got to his feet. "I did, sir."
The man's confession caused yet another wave of shocked exclamations. In a battle between the Aurors and the son of Malfoy and a former Death Eater, it had been an Auror who cast the first curse? It sounded rather unbelievable.
Harry could hear words about Auror instincts and he shook his head slightly, glad that no one could see his expression. It was one thing to act instinctively in the field, where hesitation could kill you. Attacking people without a good reason led to murder.
He hated the fact that Mr. Weasley would have to spell it out to the Aurors and tell them not to harass people. Their job was protecting and saving people, hunting things that harmed. Fudge's death and the attacks the day before had probably brought forth old fears and grudges, but no one should lash out like this.
"Mr. Yabbersmith." Arthur acknowledged the Auror. "You cast a curse at Mr. Malfoy. Then what happened?"
Glaring at Yabbersmith, Purvis turned back at the Minister. "Mr. Malfoy grabbed his wand and professor Snape followed his lead. It all became a bit rushed at that point."
"I see."
It was clear that Purvis could read Mr. Weasley's tone correctly, squirming as he forced the words out, "And then others joined the fight."
There was a silence as everyone stared at Arthur Weasley. It wasn't hard to guess what was coming next.
"Tell me, Mr. Purvis. When you saw Mr. Lupin, Mr. Black, Miss Granger and my sons stand up to defend both Mr. Malfoy and professor Snape... Did it ever occur to you that you might be doing something wrong?"
There was a slight commotion and then Moody stood up. "If I may, sir?" He waited for the nod before continuing. "Sometimes when facing Dark Curses, like these men did today, there is no time for second guessing."
Purvis nodded. "Yes. I... I mean, we know it was wrong to bring the civilians into the fight, but it was..."
"Wrong?" Arthur Weasley suggested. There was no trace of the usual jolly man in the hard look he cast at the Aurors.
"Yes, sir. We are prepared to apologize to Misters Black, Lupin, Weasleys and Miss Granger." Purvis cast a look at the ones he was naming, giving each and every one of them a small bow. After a moment, he added, "And to Mr. Malfoy of course."
The way the Aurors around him glared made it clear they hadn't actually reached a consensus on that.
"Malfoy is a backstabbing basta....aaagh!" Yabbersmith groaned and grabbed his left foot as Moody's cane slammed against it with considerable force.
Harry felt waves of relief as most of the Order people started defending Draco, noticing how Ron was nodding at the words even though he said nothing himself.
He chose to see that as a good sign.
"Like I said," Purvis yelled over the commotion, "We are prepared to apologize, in written statements if necessary." He looked genuinely sorry.
It was however unclear if his remorse was due to the fact that he acknowledged that he'd been wrong or if it had dawned on the Aurors that drawing wands at the Minister's sons was a very bad career move.
Arthur Weasley nodded. "You may issue such apologies, but they may not be accepted." His tone indicated that he was not going to accept or forget any time soon. "You said Mr. Malfoy. What about professor Snape?"
No one said a word.
Harry closed his eyes, leaning his forehead against the cold stone wall. He hated this, absolutely hated a scene like this. He could only imagine how it would be for Snape; to sit there and listen to this and not be able to really do anything.
Yabbersmith let go of his foot and glared. "Snape is a Death Eater."
He didn't need to worry about anyone smashing his other foot. It was obvious that none of his colleagues would argue with that.
Dumbledore muttered, "Former Death Eater."
It was as if he hadn't said a word. Moody nodded. "You can't trust him! Ever!" His eye spun around wildly and then focused on Snape.
Minerva McGonagall stood up, casting a freezing look at Moody. "He saved my life, Alastor. I trust him."
Harry muttered the words quietly as well, glad that he wasn't the only one. He'd expected the way Draco nodded, but the hesitant way Ron seemed to agree with the former part of McGonagall's declaration made him swallow. Ron might not like Snape, but he wasn't an utter moron.
It was as if the Aurors couldn't even hear the protests, so locked in their hatred. "It's no crime attacking a Death Eater! It's justice!" Moody called out.
"Wild justice!" Arabella Figg yelled at him, "Attacking someone like that, it's not justice at all!"
Moody scoffed. "You don't believe that yourself!" Turning away from her, he addressed Snape directly. "No one's protecting your Death Eater hide anymore, Snape. The only thing that's kept you alive so far is Dumbledore's support and he's not the leader of the Order anymore." The fact made his wild eye roll in glee.
"No, but I am." It was the first time Harry said that out loud without feeling absurd need to laugh.
People swiveled to look at him march into the room.
Harry hadn't planned this, it had just happened; the moment Moody threatened Snape his legs had carried him here with no clear command from his mind. He wasn't going to interfere with stupidity, but he had no doubt the Aurors wouldn't try something after such a threat.
The desire to throw a few hexes at the Aurors was almost overwhelming.
He wanted to walk to Snape and say lots of things about friendship and trust out loud and maybe then Snape would just hex him for being a total idiot. No matter how amusing Harry found Snape's protests about his silly declarations, he knew there was nothing funny in a situation like this.
"And I'm telling you, any and all threats against the members of my Order -- any member of my Order -- will be a threat against me. It doesn't matter if you don't trust them, it doesn't matter what they're called or what they used to do. They are the Order of the Phoenix, fighting Voldemort. If you have problems with that, go and join his fight."
There was an absolute silence.
Harry stared at Moody until he looked away. Then he did the same with the other Aurors, noticing it got easier with each and every one.
"I will not make speeches about working together. We all know what we're doing and why. If you choose to help Voldemort by squabbling with each other, it's your loss." Harry could see the words hit the Aurors hard.
"There's no way in hell I'd join the Dark Lord..." Purvis muttered, squeezing his hand into a fist.
His sentiments were clearly shared by everyone.
Arthur Weasley was the one to voice it out loud. "No one wants that. What happened today... won't happen again."
"No, it won't." Harry agreed.
His calm words were even worse than angry threats, making it clear that the matter was not up for discussion.
People were nodding, some reluctantly and some with anger in their eyes, but no one seemed to wish to argue with Harry Potter.
"Then that seems to be it. Meeting dismissed."
The strangely anti-climatic ending of the meeting made some grumble, but a glance at Harry made sure none of the complaints were actually said out loud.
"Oh, and before you go... I would like you to apologize for your actions in person." Harry took a step towards Snape, barely resisting the urge to put his hand on his shoulder. "My friends deserve that."
There was a shocked buzz at his words.
Since it was clear that Harry had said that to the Aurors only, people kept walking out of the door. To the Aurors' relief, their leader seemed to be willing to wait until the door closed after the crowd, leaving only a few people in the meeting hall.
"Harry..." Shaking his head, Arthur Weasley got up and walked to Harry. "I truly am..."
"Please, Mr. Weasley." Harry smiled, knowing exactly how absurd it was to have this man try to apologize.
Seeing the knowing look in Mr. Weasley's eyes, Harry wondered about the insanity of this all. Here they were, the most powerful men in their world; one a young man who just wanted to live in peace away from the maddening crowd and the other a family man who would probably be most content polishing his plugs.
"This really won't happen again." Arthur would make sure it wouldn't.
Harry agreed. "I know. And who knows, maybe now they will try harder to work together." All such efforts would be needed when the time for real fights came.
He listened to the apologies half heartedly, relaxing slightly as Purvis continued to Snape after a few stilted but polite words to Draco and repeated his apology. Not wishing to humiliate anyone, he looked away only to meet Dumbledore's knowing gaze.
For a moment it looked like the old man could read his thoughts.
Harry had to wonder what would have happened if he'd just said out loud the thoughts that had been running through his head, that he trusted both Draco and Snape, that he had feelings for Snape. That if the Aurors had indeed managed to kill Snape, their great leader would have packed his trunk and left them without a word.
It would have caused unnecessary panic, but Harry knew beyond a doubt that he couldn't have stayed and played this part if Snape was gone. He would have left, probably after doing something horrible, and life beyond that was too awful to even contemplate.
He glanced at Snape, smiling a little at the way he was nodding at the Aurors with a haughty look on his face, and knew he'd been right when he had curbed all the declarations he'd wanted to make.
Turning away, he missed the very familiar twinkle in Dumbledore's eyes.
Part 9 Harry cast a worried look at the sky as he hurried out of their house. It looked like it would rain soon, the dark clouds gathering overhead. He could hear from the few softly muttered words that Draco agreed with his thoughts.
He knew he was late; the morning classes had already began and there would be at least a few meetings held by busybodies and those who wanted an excuse not to spend the whole morning casting charms and hexes at each other. His people should be able to conduct themselves without his presence, but he was sure that as soon as he appeared, there'd be enthusiastics demanding his attention.
That was fine by him. After yet another poorly slept night, he welcomed the challenge.
Right now, there was another challenge waiting for him right beside him.
"Draco?"
Starting at the sound of his name, Draco muttered, "Yes?" as if he wasn't even listening.
"You want to tell me what's going on?" Harry asked. He had noticed Draco's reluctance to speak with anyone since the attack, and while the Slytherin was sometimes withdrawn, he usually spoke when someone asked him a question. Now he was once again doing that perfect door mat routine.
Draco stopped walking. "No, not really." There was hesitation in his voice.
"What is it?" Turning to face his friend, Harry prodded him a little, guessing that even the street was a better place for this discussion than the Headquarters.
Slowly, Draco looked up, not even trying to mask the intent burn in his gaze. "You don't want to know." There was a warning in his voice, but also a dare of sorts. Let Harry ask if he really wanted to hear what was going on in his mind.
Harry didn't need to ask again; he could see it clearly in Draco's eyes. "You're angry."
"You're damn right I'm angry!" And not in a good way. The anger had been simmering there ever since yesterday, not disappearing with the apologies or the frantic shagging with Weasley later that night. He had no idea when it would escape his control.
Sighing, Harry nodded. He could understand exactly what Draco was feeling, just as he'd known the sadness so evident in Ron earlier. It was all a part of being a human, being tossed into this insane situation with battles and tension and decisions you could barely live with afterwards.
"Those bastards!" Muttering it quietly, Draco waved his hand in the air, almost as if dismissing his own words. "And now that they've apologized..."
"There's nothing you can do. I know." Harry agreed.
"Yeah." Shuddering, Draco added, "No matter how much I might like to." Kicking someone's arse would help, but he couldn't really prove the Aurors right by starting a fight.
Harry started walking again, seeing that the clouds would probably empty their contents on them any moment now. When Draco matched his pace step for step, he asked quietly, "Want to do some training later on?"
He rarely trained with anyone but Arabella and Dumbledore, not comfortable with people who were either intimidated by him or who had no real skills. Draco would be a perfect opponent on every level.
The way Draco's expression seemed to brighten at he prospect told him he would get no special treatment in the dueling.
Perfect.
They managed to reach the Headquarters before it started raining, but Harry could see it would be a miserable day. Damn, what else could go wrong?
He bit his tongue before he could say it out loud to Draco. It would be really stupid to tempt fate like that.
The entrance hall should have been empty at this hour, but as Harry closed the door behind him, he could see someone sitting on a bench by the wall. Sighing, he wondered if he should just ignore whoever it was or go to see if there was something important for him to do.
"Seamus?" The name slipped out as soon as he realized who it was sitting there.
It was rare to see him here; Seamus had been one of the most anxious to join the Aurors in trying to stop raids, preferring doing things instead of sitting around and talking.
There had been occasions when Harry had envied him.
"I think I'll stay here for a while." Smiling at Draco, he walked towards Seamus. "Don't forget the training."
"I won't." With a curious glance at the Gryffindors, Draco walked away.
Harry rolled his eyes, knowing that their training session would probably attract a shocked crowd later on. Then he turned his attention back to Seamus, who looked like he hadn't noticed them enter. "Oi, Seamus!"
Moving his head slowly, Seamus looked up from the squirming bundle on his lap. "Oh. Harry. Hi." He didn't sound like he was happy to see him.
"Hi."
Harry didn't know what else to say, but it seemed as if Seamus wasn't expecting any words; he had already turned his attention back to the floor. Suppressing a sigh, he wondered if whatever problems Seamus had would be as easily dealt with as Draco's.
A moment later he realized that Seamus wasn't staring at the floor and avoiding his eyes like Draco had, he was staring at the small kitten now nestled on his lap. It was a familiar sight of sorts, he could remember how Seamus had cradled the kitten after leaving the dead witch's hut, refusing to let go of him for even a moment.
It didn't look like he was about to change his mind any time soon.
"Seamus? Are you all right?" There was hesitation in Harry's voice. Seamus had always been cheery and so eager to be involved in things, and now he was simply sitting there, looking forlorn.
Seamus looked up again, and this time there was a very fake smile plastered on his face. "I'm all right, Harry." He sounded tired.
Harry didn't comment on the obvious lie, turning his attention on the kitten. "And how is he? Have you named him yet?"
"Yes. His name is Zlito." Seamus' expression brightened just for a second as he looked down at the small furball. "After one of the cards Viktor Krum sent Ron a few years back."
"I remember." It was the last completely happy memory Harry had of that spring. "It's a good name."
Seamus nodded, keeping his gaze on little Zlito.
The others were already gathering in the big meeting hall, but he didn't want to get up. He'd come here early, unable to stay away but unwilling to actually join the others. The sounds all around him had felt harsh and unreal and all he'd wanted was to go back to his small apartment with his cat and never to come out again.
He knew what they would talk about today; more missions, strategies to help people in small villages all around their world, and patrols.
He also knew he couldn't go to the others and talk about it. He couldn't even think about it anymore. These past few months with all the fear and the pain and the killings were destroying him. Alice Skively's hut had been the last straw; he couldn't go into another scene like that again.
Not realizing that he was rocking himself back and forth while holding the kitten closer, he startled as a strong hand grasped his shoulder.
He saw the worry on Harry's face, but it was as if he was blurred somehow. "I'm all right." The sob in his voice ruined the message.
"Seamus..." Crouching down next to his friend, Harry muttered his name out. "You're not all right, and you don't have to be. It's okay to not be all right."
The tired tone just made Seamus' world blur even more. He opened his mouth to repeat his words, to assure Harry that he was really fine, but no words came out. Instead there was a blubbering kind of a cough, dissolving into nothing.
Sighing, Harry held on tighter as Seamus started to cry. With a flick of his wand, he conjured up a handkerchief and handed it to him.
He didn't like the implications of that small act, remembering a box of tissues appearing on his lap so long ago.
"I can't do this anymore, Harry." His eyes huge, Seamus raised the handkerchief to his face, trying to wipe off the tears that were running down his cheeks, holding the kitten tight against his chest with his other hand. He'd never felt like this before; the mixture of desperation and embarrassment. He didn't want to be this weak, but doing this was killing him. He couldn't handle the fighting and watching people die around him.
Harry closed his eyes for a moment. He could see that Seamus was more than broken; he was shattered, with the shards of what he'd been chafing with every breath he took. "You don't have to. You don't have to."
"Really?" Seamus didn't believe his ears. He felt so small saying that to Harry, and had been certain he'd be ridiculed. Or cursed.
Harry nodded even though he knew he wouldn't see it. "Really. You don't have to do this anymore."
They had been under enormous strain these past weeks. He wasn't surprised to see how heavily that lay on people, especially on his former housemates, who seemed to feel like they were responsible for everything. It was a feeling he could recognize well.
He'd never have thought it would be Seamus who succumbed under the melancholia. Looking back on all the things he'd witnessed, maybe he should have.
The mediwitches alone couldn't help now. Harry wondered if anyone could. He knew Seamus wouldn't want to leave the Order, or the fight, but he didn't see any option. Staying here would kill him.
It was best if his friend went home and he had the perfect excuse to send him there. "I was wondering if you'd do something for me." He swallowed at the desperate hope in his friend's gaze. "We need a place outside Scotland in case this goes badly. Someone has to organize us a safe house. How does Ireland sound to you?"
Even when they had talked about this, ages ago, the inner circle of the Order had known such a place would never be needed as anything beyond a safe harbor for those who couldn't handle the war. If Voldemort won, they would all be dead and not needing such a stronghold.
Seamus blew his nose, thinking for a moment. He looked back at the kitten who was clambering up his chest to lick away some of the salty moisture from his face. "I... It sounds fine."
"Good. Professor McGonagall has already planned on something that might work for us. I want you to take over the project. Can you do that?" Harry realized Seamus might not be the only one who'd be sent there. If the war stretched out for long, others would need this kind of help as well.
There was a hesitant nod. "You think I could take Zlito with me?" Seamus hugged the kitten as if he was his safety blanket.
Feeling like his throat was swelling shut, Harry nodded. "Yes. I think it's a good idea to take Zlito with you."
Seamus' smile was almost too much to bear.
They went to look for McGonagall, finding her at Dumbledore's side as usual. Harry explained the situation to her in quiet tones while Dumbledore took Seamus to find some treats for little Zlito, keeping his gaze away from hers. He knew this wasn't easy for anyone.
It went smoothly from there on; McGonagall acted as briskly as always, working on schedules with Mundungus Fletcher who had been the one to suggest these back up plans years ago. Seamus would have to travel on his own, but there would be people to stay with him when he reached the house, people who would be ready to welcome others as well, who would be able to deal with those who would crack under the pressure of all the fighting or maybe afterwards when yet another generation would be haunted by night terrors.
Harry had the sinking feeling that they wouldn't have to wait for long.
He watched the procedings quietly, managing a few words to Draco when he came to ask if he wanted a rain check on their training. With McGonagall ushering Seamus away from the hall, he shook his head, knowing he wasn't going to be able to concentrate on anything important right now anyway.
Behind him, some of the younger Order members were whispering quietly, pointing at the door. Harry could well hear the name 'Finnigan' muttered, but chose not to pay attention to whatever they were saying until someone commented louder, "Damn stupid coward!"
He squeezed his hands into fists.
"Yeah. I can't believe that git actually roomed with Potter for seven years. And he calls himself a Gryffindor!" It was followed by snorts and muffled laughter.
Turning slowly around, Harry glared at the small group of young men and women, casting a look full of contempt at them. "Has any one of you actually seen a battle or what's left of a home after a Death Eater raid?"
One of the witches who had been giggling opened her mouth and then shut it again with a snap. Then she shook her head.
Harry hadn't thought so. "Then don't make comments about things you don't understand. I call Seamus a Gryffindor and a friend." He managed not to say out loud what he'd call these people.
Why didn't people see what it was all about? Harry knew that if he could believe he might spend one night without nightmares, he'd be right there leaving with Seamus. The duty others had piled upon him held him here and he knew he couldn't live with himself if he simply left people to die.
He still wished he could just go and live in peace.
Now everyone in the small group were avoiding his angry gaze. "Sorry, sir. We didn't mean it like that."
Harry didn't even try to find anything to say; he turned around before the angry growl could escape.
He didn't know what bothered him the most, the way these people ridiculed Seamus or the way they treated him. He remembered seeing some of them in the Gryffindor common room when he'd been younger, most faces familiar from Hogwarts; a student passing by or a cheering, smiling spectator at the Quidditch pitch.
Now they called him sir.
Noticing Draco following him quietly, he headed straight to the training hall, not answering any of the greetings as he tried to find a quiet arena for a training match. He wasn't in the mood for a conversation, and it was a relief to see that Draco was still holding on to his anger as well.
Good. Now they were an even pair, both almost tingling with nervous energy.
People knew by now not to come and interrupt Harry when he was training, but there was a small crowd forming near the door, mostly older Order members who tried hard not to look like they were standing guard and making sure no one got hurt. Harry ignored them, keeping his attention on Draco and the curses flying between them, knowing that the narrow world where there was nothing but survival was the best place to stay right now.
He was almost glad he had lost to Draco in chess most of the times they had played, for otherwise the Slytherin would have probably looked angrier when he lost their every duel.
Now, Draco just seemed happy to be able to fling curses at him and try to dodge the ones he returned.
When they were finally too exhausted to really aim a wand, Harry shook Draco's hand with a weary smile on his face and then headed towards the shower. Sharing an easy silence, they went through their ablutions, almost like old teammates; it was sometimes hard to remember the rivalry there had been between the two Seekers, even with the competitive nature of their duels.
There were others in the small locker room changing their robes. Harry nodded at Dean and one of the Ravenclaws, not really looking for anyone's company right now.
It was clear from the somber looks thrown at his way that the word about Seamus had already spread through the Headquarters like wild fire.
Harry took his time toweling his hair dry and adjusting his robes, needing a moment before going back to the hallways and people and the noise that seemed to get louder every day. He barely acknowledged Draco leaving, his mind a whirlwind of thoughts he didn't really want to inspect too closely.
"Harry."
Looking up, Harry saw Dean walking by. "Hi, Dean." It came out almost as a sigh.
Dean's shoulders were set, his back ramrod rigid. "I'll... see you tomorrow then."
"Aren't you coming to say goodbye to Seamus?" Harry suddenly wondered if anyone would accompany him to the station, fearing his friend would leave thinking no one cared anymore. He hated the way things had deteriorated into this, especially when he couldn't think of anything he could have done to keep Seamus from slipping away.
After a brief hesitation, Dean shook his head, his expression completely blank. "No. I have nothing to say to him." Only his voice betrayed his anger.
"Dean... It's not his fault. He's not running away." Harry wondered why it was so hard for everyone to see. Like it was easier to label Seamus as a coward than it was to admit that the horrors of war would indeed drive even the bravest of them insane.
Dean shrugged. "Funny. That's what it looks like to me." Without other words, he turned around.
Harry watched Dean walk away.
He wondered if some day Dean would regret his decision and cursed the war that was tearing friendships apart so easily. There was nothing he could do for Dean, his housemate would have to make his own mind and then live with his actions.
It was raining as he walked Seamus to the station, warm raindrops falling on them both, a few even landing on the kitten that was firmly tucked under Seamus' robe, peeking from the open collar with eyes wide and curious.
Harry found it oddly befitting.
They weren't alone, Minerva McGonagall walking slowly beside Seamus, speaking softly about the safe house that would never be used as such. She was acting as if she was still responsible for Seamus.
Maybe in her mind she still was.
Seeing that talking about the house couldn't pull Seamus out of his gloomy thoughts, McGonagall changed the topic to cats and taking care of them. Apparently that was the right choice; Seamus' expression became less wooden and he even asked a few questions.
Harry smiled at McGonagall. It was great she was here, using quiet words and familiar tones to keep the mood from turning awkward.
The train was already waiting, the sight a bit strange considering that Harry had never seen a train here unless it was the Hogwarts Express, and even that seemed to operate only twice a year.
There were also three very familiar people waiting at the platform.
Harry was glad Hermione didn't hold back like Lavender and Parvati so clearly did and just came to hug Seamus.
"I... I guess this is it, then." Seamus didn't even try to pretend reluctant to leave, relief shining in his gaze as he looked at the train.
The words seemed to jolt Parvati and Lavender out of their stupor and the two girls descended on Seamus, hugging him and telling him to take care of himself. Lavender was sniffling as she let go, accepting the handkerchief from Parvati with a slight nod.
Looking a bit uncomfortable, Seamus turned towards the train, hopping on the first step before anyone else could hug him.
"Wait up!"
Freezing on the step, Seamus turned around to see Ron and Neville run to the platform. His expression was incredulous.
"Phew!" Ron let out a panting sigh. "We thought we'd miss you!"
Seamus' face lit up, and for a moment he looked almost like he used to. "You guys..."
"We got you something for the journey!" Neville smirked, waving a huge bag full of chocolate frogs. "Don't drop them all, or you'll have to spend the whole trip hunting for frogs. Like... you know."
That brought a wobbly smile on Seamus' face, a reminder of frog hunts and evenings spent in the Gryffindor Tower giggling as if you really could get drunk on chocolate only. He grabbed the offered bag and squeezed it against his chest while Zlito did his best to crawl inside the bag to investigate. "You guys..." He didn't seem to be able to say anything else.
Neville clasped his hand on Seamus' shoulder and then stepped to the side when Ron did the same. There were promises to owl and halted words of farewell and then the train whistled to signal its departure.
For just a fraction of a second, Seamus hesitated. Then he shoved the bag of chocolate frogs under his arm and climbed on board the train.
"Bye, Seamus!"
Echoing Neville's words, Ron called, "Bye! Owl us!" He waved his hand as the train started moving.
"Good bye Mr. Finnigan. And good luck," professor McGonagall said. Her smile was genuine, widening slightly as she watched her former student wave back and then nuzzle against the kitten.
Harry stood there, staring for as long as he could still see the train. He didn't know what to think, what to feel. After sharing his life for seven years with Seamus, he hated watching him leave, but at the same time he was relieved. This was one friend he wouldn't have to watch die.
Shivering, he pulled his robe tighter around himself, and then turned to leave.
He blocked out Neville and Ron's babbling and the occasional word from Hermione, lost in his own wistful thoughts. The way professor McGonagall looked at him as she turned towards Hogwarts made him shake his head slightly, as if she had actually asked if he wanted to join her for the short walk.
This wasn't worse than what he had expected, the losses and the pain hurting just as much as he'd always thought they would. He needed to deal with this right now, on his own, for he knew that if he crawled into Snape's rooms right now, feeling raw, he might never have enough strength to leave.
It didn't mean he wasn't tempted, but he forced himself to walk to their house, keeping his face expressionless, not wiping the raindrops off his cheeks as they landed there and then rolled down slowly like tears.
He kicked his shoes off and refused to look at Ron as he fumbled with his own clothes next to him in the hallway, as if he was feeling the tension on his skin as well.
Ignoring the worried look on Sirius' face, Harry continued to walk towards the stairs, waving Hermione away when she tried to say something to him. He couldn't deal with words right now.
He knew his friends just wanted to make him feel better, but he knew they couldn't. Selfish beyond anything he'd ever done, he refused to be consoled just to make everyone calm down. Though he knew things would be all right, it felt like the world was falling apart.
And nothing was really going to change that.
Part 10 The continuing raids were a good indication of the overall situation. The open war everyone had been expecting would probably never come. This was what Voldemort's people would do; terrorize their world and kill all they could.
Dozens of Clabberts were sold almost overnight as people fortified their houses. Some even installed Muggle type alarm systems, especially those who lived close to Muggles. All around the wizarding world, the air seemed to shimmer from the force of the wards.
Fear had become their constant companion; one could sense it in the very air they were breathing. No one could turn their back on the news and the rumors anymore.
Voldemort was back.
The Order was getting bigger with people arriving almost every day to join them and training became more important than ever. No one could sit back and watch; Hermione was already used to tutoring the others and teaching healing charms and Ron was perfectly capable of assisting in the dueling. Draco's skills came in most handy, and after a few very pointed glares from Harry, no one dared to make any comments about the seemingly unending stock of hexes and curses he knew.
In the middle of all the classes, there were meetings, but now they weren't simple speculation and planning on actions they might never need.
"Before we start the meeting," Arthur Weasley grinned at Harry, looking nothing like a self important Acting Minister for Magic should. "Happy birthday, Harry!"
Harry grinned back, flustering a little as everyone in the room cheered. It was a small crowd; the inner circle of the Order -- these days consisting an extra set of young Gryffindors as well as two young Slytherins -- joined by the Heads of the Houses and Arthur Weasley who was accompanied by a few Aurors, and he felt almost like home in their company.
Most of the meetings didn't start with toasts -- butterbeer -- and cake and it was almost unreal to sit here and watch everyone smile and eat cake and know that as soon as the impromptu celebrations were over, they would talk about the war.
Licking the whipped cream from his spoon, Harry had to admit he liked this. There had already been a few songs and more congratulations than he could count, and the almost mania -like cheer on everyone was disconcerting to say the least. But sitting here with his family and friends wasn't bad.
Not bad at all.
It was easy to get down to business after everyone had finished with their cake -- except for Ron, who was discretely munching on his third slice -- and concentrate on today's topic. For once it wasn't about the Order and their plans for the future.
Harry looked at Arthur. "What exactly has the Ministry done with all the complaints and accusations towards known Death Eaters?" He knew for a fact that there had been lots of them these past few months.
People needed to trust the authorities, even in the Wizarding World, and no matter how the Ministry had wanted to stand clear from anything concerning Voldemort, they would have received dozens of owls carrying testimonies.
Looking uncomfortable, Arthur sighed. "Nothing."
Only Flitwick bothered to try to look surprised, everyone else just nodded. They hadn't really had any illusions about this.
Still, Harry could almost hear an echo of McGonagall's voice in the room, the words 'the ministry will do nothing' as clear as if she'd actually repeated them again. He glanced at her, knowing all too well how it felt to tell people the truth and be told he was being ridiculous.
He was not going to let something like that happen to any of those who had suffered. Not again. "Then it's time you do something." It felt weird to speak like this to Mr. Weasley, but Harry couldn't hold his tongue simply because he liked and respected the man.
Arthur Weasley nodded, looking determined. "Yes, it is."
"We need to make absolutely sure people know what we're up against. If you'd hold a press conference..." Harry was glad to see the nod. "Good. Then there's the matter of crimes that have been committed against people. There are people who are responsible for torture and murder."
Shocked coughs and mutters filled the room, most likely due to the calm way Harry stated that to their new Minister, the man who had already witnessed such horrors.
"Yes."
Harry was quiet for a moment, but since no one else wanted to add to the tension so palpable already, he said quietly, "I want you to issue warrants for the arrest of the following people. Peter Pettigrew, for betraying the fidelius charm, contributing to the death of..." He choked for just a moment. "James and Lily Potter, framing Sirius Black and killing Cedric Diggory."
On the other side of the table, Remus grabbed Sirius' hand in a tight grip.
Arthur nodded. "I'll see to it." He cast a surprisingly stern look at his Aurors who were staring with their mouths open.
One of the Aurors grabbed his quill and started to scribble it down on the parchment in front of him.
"Also for the arrest of Lucius Malfoy, for kidnapping and assaulting professor McGonagall and for the attack on the Burrow resulting in two deaths." No matter how he tried, Harry couldn't bring himself to say names here.
There was frantic sound of scribbling.
No one said a word for a moment, then McGonagall stated coolly, "I do believe the Ministry has already taken my testimony on the matter."
"Yes, as they have taken mine as well." Sharing a look of perfect understanding, Arthur Weasley nodded at her.
Harry was glad no one had succumbed into the endless apologies and explanations.
There were other names, other horrors, and Harry listed all he'd heard. Some were old memories -- McNair, Crabbe sr. -- some more recent ones -- the younger Crabbe and Goyle and Parkinson -- and they were all familiar to most of the people in the room.
Next to the Acting Minister, the Auror was already on his fourth parchment, scribbling down names and descriptions as quickly as he could, trying not to miss any that Harry mentioned and groaning as the others started to call out names as well.
His hand stilled as Harry Potter stated out the last name.
"Tom Marvolo Riddle. Also known as Lord Voldemort or You-Know-Who."
There was an utter silence in the room.
Harry smiled a crooked little smile. "I doubt I have to list all the things he has done to people."
Surprisingly enough, the older people in the room smiled back at him, their feral expressions just as full of memories of pain and hatered as his was.
From his place between Snape and Blaize Zabini, Draco said, "We all know what he's done, but there are things he probably wants to keep a secret. Like his ancestry. Minister Weasley, you might want to mention the fact that Tom Riddle is a half-blood in that press conference of yours."
The importance of his words already showed on Blaise's face. "Voldemort isn't a pureblood? I'll be damned!" He grinned brightly. "Oh that's just too perfect!"
Arthur looked from the now laughing Slytherin to Draco Malfoy, knowing exactly what he was implying. "I will. Thank you, Mr. Malfoy."
It was clear that it wasn't the response Draco had expected. Harry smiled at the confusion and slight embarrassment that showed on Draco's face for a few seconds before the well practiced nonchalance returned.
He wished he could end the official part of the meeting with this and maybe have another bite of the cake, but there was still something he needed to say. "Once you have the warrants, you might want to show them to the press as well, but I don't think you should send Aurors to actually arrest anyone. Especially if that means going to the mansions to fight the battle on their terms. Just let it be known that all these people are wanted, and leave it to that."
Even as Arthur Weasley nodded, there were a few baffled looks cast at Harry.
"I don't want to start the big battles." Harry didn't say the word 'yet'. "But this will hinder their movements and it'll also make sure our world sees these people as they are; criminals."
That caused even more baffled looks, as if people hadn't even thought about Voldemort and his Death Eaters as something as simple as that.
Harry wasn't really surprised.
The meeting broke up after that, the Aurors rushing back to the Ministry so that they could write down proper warrants with the necessary paperwork. The others stayed behind, finishing with what was left of the butterbeer and attacking the rest of the cake.
Such a quiet show of caring was better than any pompous speech or expensive gift.
Arabella Figg pulled Harry into a tight hug. "Happy birthday, Harry. And many more to come!" she whispered fiercely.
Harry smiled at her. "Thank you."
Fletcher offered him his hand and more well wishes as did professor Flitwick before he was unceremoniously pushed to the side as professor Sprout enfolded Harry in a tight heather scented hug.
Soon everyone flocked around Harry, either shaking hands with him or hugging him. It was easy to allow the touches with these people and not feel crowded or weirded. He hugged Hermione, laughed at the very evil look in Draco's eyes as he shook his hand again and muttered 'Harry'. He flustered and then smiled with wonder as McGonagall touched his arm briefly after congratulating him.
Dumledore's benign smile and cryptic words about the importance of this day made Harry shiver a little, but the feeling of unease was forgotten soon as Ron wrapped his arm around his shoulders.
Pulling his robes back in order after the Weasley group hug, Harry came to stand before Snape.
"Happy birthday, Potter," Snape stated with a brief nod.
"What, no hug?" Harry asked, an evil glint in his eyes. "I'm hurt, Snape."
Leaning closer, Snape muttered, "I do not wish to make a spectacle of myself in front of a group of Weasleys who are staring at us right now, looking like they're expecting something."
That made Harry glance at Ron and his brothers who were indeed staring at them, Ron looking like he was tasting a slug in his mouth and George giving him a not so subtle thumbs up and a wink.
He groaned. "I should have guessed..."
"I assume you felt necessary to inform the Weasleys of our..." Snape hated the fact that he still couldn't think of a word to describe what was between him and Harry. The closest he could come up with was 'courting', and the mere idea made him scoff. "Thing."
Harry nodded. "Yeah." He wondered if he should apologize, but he didn't feel like he should apologize for being happy about what they had. "Sorry I didn't tell you earlier." That would have to be enough for Snape.
"I see." Shaking his head a little, Snape offered Harry his hand. "If you want a hug, you will have to wait until we're in private. Say, in my rooms tomorrow after lunch?"
"Yeah. I'll be there." Harry held Snape's hand, brushing his thumb against one of the familiar ink stains. He let his touch linger longer than was really necessary, knowing Snape didn't really mind since he didn't yank his hand away. Tomorrow would be a quiet day anyway, and it had been ages since he'd just spent time with Snape.
Snape squeezed his hand softly before letting go. "Just be careful when you come to Hogwarts tomorrow. You know what day it is."
"Yeah." Harry knew he would be on his guard tonight as well, remembering all too well that Voldemort had plans for him. "I will be."
Being reminded of how Snape didn't even try pretend he wasn't concerned for his safety anymore made him feel warm inside, and even though his message had brought back memories of insanity, Harry was smiling softly as he finally stepped away from Snape.
As he turned to leave the room, he got another wink from George.
There would be more well wishers milling around the Headquarters, most used to the forbidding look he threw at anyone who came too close and simply waving at him and calling out their congratulations. He had told Ron firmly that he did not wish to spend his birthday in a crowd, pretending everything was all right, but would like to have dinner with his family and maybe all the Weasleys who might be able to join them.
Ron had looked a little disappointed, but even he couldn't really find the idea of a party appealing anymore. The joy of organizing one had died with Terry Boot.
Sighing, Harry walked across the hallway, his head already focusing on the work waiting for him today, patient enough to deal with their world today as he knew he could have time for himself tomorrow with Snape.
Part 11 Harry shivered as he stepped into the familiar rooms in the dungeons, the temperature lower in here than it had been in the hallway. It almost made him groan as he felt the coldness hit him like a wave, realizing it wasn't physical.
He'd spent most of the morning grinning like a loon, just counting the hours to lunch so that he could go to see Snape, planning on a few clever remarks on hugging and then just crawling under Snape's robes and not letting go.
It had been such a great plan but he could already see that he wasn't going to be able to follow it after all.
What the hell had happened this time?
He didn't have to wonder long. Snape was pacing back and forth, looking about as friendly as an enraged dragon, only casting a disgusted glare at Harry and resuming the pacing without words.
So it was anger instead of pain and fear and Harry sighed with relief as he went to sit on the couch.
This was so much easier to deal with.
When he realized that Snape was simply going to walk around looking menacing, he cleared his throat. "What happened?" No need to start with pleasantries.
Snape stopped with his back turned at him, hands squeezed into fists. Then he turned around, his expression revealing nothing. "Albus... suggested that I should move out of Hogwarts." He sounded hollow.
"What?" Harry blurted out. He was on his feet before he could even think. "Albus is kicking you out?"
His thoughtless comment earned him a glare. "Yes."
Harry could only stare. Of course Snape's words made sense; Dumbledore had to think about the school and the students who would be arriving shortly. With all the Slytherins and others from proud pureblood families, Snape would be in danger. "So he really thinks people will send their children here this year?"
It was an appalling thought. They really were at war, and if there were any fights near Hogsmeade, everyone would be in danger, not just those who actually willingly took part in the battles. Even with exactly a month to the beginning of the school year, things would not change enough to make the place completely safe.
Not even if everything worked out as planned.
"I have no idea." It wasn't as if Snape had stayed there for a long discussion after Albus had asked him to find another place to stay. The message had been clear; he wasn't needed here anymore, so he had to leave. Kicked out of the place he'd called home for almost two decades like all those years meant nothing.
Going into hiding to save teenagers had been completely different. Draco Malfoy had been his responsibility and he'd done his duty as always. This was not a temporary plan, this was permanent.
Harry thought for a moment before asking, "What are you going to do?" He had no idea what he would do if he was in the same situation; he'd probably walk away from the world that had never wanted him in the first place.
"I will move into Hogsmeade." Stating it out as if it was ridiculously obvious, Snape didn't bother to even think about the question of housing yet. With all the people moving into the village, there would be no appropriate place for him to stay, no rooms big enough for a small personal corner and an adequate space for brewing.
The thought was worse than anything. He wasn't useful as a spy and if he couldn't work with his potions either, he was indeed completely useless.
Dumbledore's casual dismissal smarted more than anything, even with the sympathy shining in the old wizard's eyes as he had told him it was time to leave.
"Okay." Harry nodded. "It's not fair, but I do understand his point. If you stay..."
"There will be open fighting inside the castle. Yes, Potter, I know that." The anger bubbling inside Snape was focused on Harry for just a brief moment before the man turned his gaze away.
Understanding all too well just how mad Snape had to be, Harry didn't let the furious glare touch him. They both knew what it would be like if pureblood children were forced to take sides against their muggleborn housemates, and preventing that would be hard work. With someone like Snape there, acting as the Head of Slytherin... It would be impossible.
"Yeah. So... Hogsmeade? Good. We need you there." It came out quietly but firmly. "You're the best Potions master I know, and you also know the enemy; the Order needs you now more than the school does."
Harry wanted to add that he needed Snape, but didn't think that would count as a valid argument right now.
"Please! I'm the only Potions master you know." Exasperated, Snape turned at Harry again. The idiot was unbelievably bad with these assurances, even though they didn't sound exactly patronizing.
"That doesn't change the fact that you're more needed with the Order than you are here."
Snape wanted to argue that if only out of principle. He knew that they needed his work, but it didn't change the situation. He was going to have to leave this place, and he hated it. Hated changing the solid walls into a flimsy apartment or a room over the Three Broomsticks.
This was his home, his sanctuary. No one would bother him here and there was blessed silence surrounding him. He didn't want to be forced to meet with idiots all the time. He could have dealt it if there were only Order members living in Hogsmeade, but with multitudes of Aurors everywhere, life would undoubtedly be hell.
Nothing new there, Snape shrugged. He had survived worse.
The small gesture was a reluctant agreement, elegant in its simplicity. Inside, Snape was already considering the worst. Maybe he would find himself living next door to his former students. Merlin forbid it was someone like Longbottom.
"Do you have a place to stay yet?" Harry didn't dare to give voice to the hope building inside. "In Hogsmeade, I mean. Or are you going somewhere else?" He hadn't even thought of Snape owning a place somewhere else.
He blinked at that. An ancestral home of the Snape family? Could there be a place like that? Or maybe even an actual family waiting somewhere?
Snape stared at him as if he could read his every thought. "There is no place I could go. The Snape House was destroyed decades ago in one of the more foolish Muggle wars. This is... was my only home."
He managed to even say it matter of factly, as if he didn't care one way or the other.
"That's not true." It slipped away instantly. Harry didn't even have to think about what he was going to say. Actually, there was no way he could keep it unsaid. "You have a home with me."
This time Snape did glare. "Don't be ridiculous."
"I'm not. I have a house. You need a place to stay. I want to stay with you." Ticking the points off with his fingers, Harry tried to sound like he was actually arguing logically when all he was doing was grasping straws here.
Snape shook his head. "You already have the house full of people." He refused to comment the foolishness of Harry's other words. They were of no concern.
"I wouldn't say it's full of people. There's enough room for you, and I think we could set you a small potions laboratory in the basement." The more Harry thought of it, the better it sounded in his ears. "And you know there's no safer place to stay in Hogsmeade."
"No safer place for me to stay than in a house full of Gryffindors?" Snape couldn't believe he was actually arguing with Harry instead of telling him where to bury such a stupid idea. "Yes, that is very convincing, Potter. I can already see how comfortable it would be to share a house with your godfather."
Not letting the sneer discourage him, Harry shook his head. "He can live with it, and I have faith that you'll manage as well." He was quiet for a moment before adding, "You can't stay here anymore, and I don't think I can deal with you living alone anywhere else."
Snape had been expecting some kind of an emotional outburst, but the unnaturally calm words hit him worse than any childish tantrum. "I do not need your protection!" He was still feeling too raw to moderate his voice and it came out louder than he'd thought.
"That is not the point and you know it," Harry said.
If only the idiot would fight him. Then it would be so easy to yell and throw him out of his rooms. "No."
Harry looked straight into Snape's eyes. "I'm asking you. Please." There was actually a pleading note in his voice.
"Don't be such an idiot! Your emotional attachments are nothing but a distraction you can't afford right now." Why hadn't Dumbledore taught the youngsters that ages ago?
That wasn't exactly the response Harry had expected. Blinking, he tried to get the point and couldn't. "Explain."
"When you value something or someone like that, they become a burden. You will spend too much focus on keeping them close, making sure you don't lose them." Snape sounded like he was explaining it to a child. Or a simpleton.
Harry couldn't say anything for a moment. They were back to this? Then he blurted out, "You already know I value you. No matter where you live, I still do. And it will be a hell of a lot easier not to worry when we're living under the same roof." He could see how his words were not actually helping and added, "You need a place to stay. I have one."
"Oh yes. An extra room for me to live right next to your godfather's? A cellar for me to work on my potions?" There was something much darker than simple sarcasm in Snape's voice and he turned his back on Harry, as if incapable of even looking at him anymore.
"No. I mean, yes to the cellar, but I was thinking more about... I have this big bed where you could sleep too."
Snape turned around in a blur of swirling black cloth.
Meeting the shocked black gaze without flinching, Harry muttered, "I know, I'm an idiot." His lips quirked up slightly at the way Snape nodded instinctively to confirm that. "I'm asking you to move in with me."
"No."
Harry hadn't thought it would be that easy. "Please. I'm asking you as a member of the Order. Think about your safety. Move in with me."
"No." Snape's resolve wasn't that easy to break.
"I... Don't do this Snape. Don't force me to make it an order." Seeing the cold amusement at that, Harry shook his head. "Don't laugh about it. If it's the only way to make sure you'll be safe, I will order you to move in with me. You are a member of the Order of the Phoenix, and you know damn well what I am."
Every word cut him like a knife, slicing through something precious. He hated himself for his words, but he had to make Snape understand how much was at stake here.
Snape's face lost all its color, his eyes burning black. "You do that, and I will never again share your bed or anything else with you." His tone was lifeless. "I will not be manipulated or used."
There was an awful silence in the room, both Harry and Snape staring at each other as if afraid that any further words or gestures would shatter everything.
"If I order you... Then at least you will be safe." Harry couldn't tear his gaze away from Snape's. "But it won't be fair to you. And I'm not Voldemort. Or Dumbledore."
Snape closed his eyes, unwilling to show even the smallest hint of the relief Harry's words caused.
"But I will ask you again. And again. And then I'm probably going to whine and beg and plead until you either throw me out of here or give in. And you know that if you throw me out, I'll just make a big scene in the hallway."
Swallowing convulsively before he could say anything, Snape nodded. "I have no doubts in your ability to act like an emotional idiot. That will not be necessary."
Harry didn't want to read too much on that, but asked anyway, "Please, Snape. Could you at least consider it? You can call it anything you want, a favor, a thing, a logical arrangement. Just... Is there any chance you could stand living with me again?"
Snape said nothing for a long time; he simply stared at the brave fool. He couldn't understand how none of his arguments had reached their intended target or swayed Harry. No matter what he said, Harry Potter was not going to give up his foolish notions of friendship and things and emotional attachments.
"For how long?"
The quiet, simple question almost made Harry gag. He burned with the need to let out the suffocating scream of pure rage working its way up to his throat while he also wanted nothing more than to curse Albus Dumbledore for doing this to Snape.
He didn't care if his words sounded like an accusation. "I'm offering you a home. You can't be kicked out of your own home, Snape. Not if I have anything to say about it." He managed to smile a little. "I don't know any fancy pureblood vows, but you could probably teach me one. Or you can have it in writing; my home is your home."
"No." Snape saw how it made Harry flinch and added quickly, "That will not be necessary."
This was insane, the completely outrageous Gryffindor emotionalism clearly becoming contagious; a disease driving all logic away. Snape shouldn't trust anyone anymore, not now that the one person in the whole universe he would have died for had turned his back on him. But he believed in Harry's words without a doubt.
Foolish notions of forever and soft declarations.
"I must be out of my mind..." Shaking his head, he let go. "Yes, I do believe that there is a chance I might stand living with you again, Potter."
All his excuses were already torn to pieces; he didn't find solitude the same bliss it had been for years, he didn't hate sharing his life with someone else. There seemed to be no use in trying not to encourage Harry to harbor delusions about them, for Harry would probably continue being a complete idiot even without any sort of encouragement.
Harry let out a soft sound of utter happiness and walked over to Snape. Wrapping his arms around him, he held on, resting his head on Snape's shoulder.
The utter joy almost radiating from Harry made Snape almost flinch. How on earth could his acceptance make him this happy? It boggled the mind. The sex and the nights spent away from the madness their reality was now he could understand, but not something like this.
He refused to speculate on it and used the method he'd found most effective in a situation such as this; he simply held Harry close.
"You know... there's something people who share... things sometimes do after an argument." Harry's lips moved against Snape's throat, the words almost a mumble.
It wasn't that difficult to guess what he meant. "Yes, even I have heard of the concept of make up sex." Snape reveled in the way Harry didn't even try to play games. "Bedroom!"
"Okay."
Snape guided Harry across the room into the bedroom, pausing after every few steps to accept another kiss, or a soft caress. When Harry moved his hands to open his robes, he grabbed his hand, though. "No." Silencing any protests with a kiss, he pushed Harry onto the bed.
He was still burning inside; the remnants of the awful emptiness and rage just beneath the arousal, calling for him to rip off Harry's clothes and to just turn him on his belly and take him. This was still his home, and he was the master in his own bedroom; he should act accordingly.
Watching Harry sprawl on his bed, his mouth slightly open and green eyes staring at him under the mop of messy black hair, Snape stood there for a moment.
He could do anything he wanted.
With slow precision, he sank to his knees next to the bed. His hands moved to Harry's fly, and after a frantic scrambling towards the edge of the bed, Harry was right where he wanted him, his legs spread on either side of him.
"May I?" Hand still hovering over Harry's groin, Snape looked him in the eyes.
Harry let out a whimper. "You know you don't have to ask." He wanted anything Snape did. "Yeah. Go ahead."
Of course Snape knew by now that he didn't have to ask, but he liked the veneer of civility. He liked to have simple words to confirm the message given by gasps and groans and Harry squirming under his touch.
He unzipped Harry's trousers, not even bothering to pull them off. Pushing his shorts down so that he could reach better, he simply grabbed his prick, stroking it into full hardness. It didn't take much; it was clear Harry was already eager and ready for anything.
"Snape..." Harry groaned, leaning back on his elbows. He wanted to touch Snape, wanted to have him naked here with him, but something in the dark gaze told him not to reach out. This was something Snape wanted to do, and he was going to let him do anything.
Since it sounded like an encouragement, Snape tightened his grip, sliding his hand up and down Harry's prick in a steady rhythm. His other hand was braced on Harry's hip, palm flat against the soft cloth of his tailored trousers.
He was still fully clothed, and felt no need to strip or have Harry remove his clothes.
Smelling Harry's arousal so acutely close to his face, he bit his lip. The temptation to lean in and swallow him to the root was almost overwhelming, but something kept him where he was, his lips a mere wand's length from Harry's leaking prick.
"Oooh.... Yeah..." Eyes wide, Harry stared straight into Snape's eyes, taking in the look of intense concentration completely focused on his prick. "Snape..."
Snape let his gaze sweep over Harry; his flushed face, his chest heaving with every breath. He enjoyed the words so clearly escaping Harry, every exalted sound encouraging him to move his hand faster until Harry moved his hips up to his touch.
Simple pleasure. Right this moment, he wanted to give this to Harry and ignored the erection straining against his own trousers. He could wait.
He could see how Harry reached out for him, the movement a clear invitation to join him in bed. There was innocent selflessness in the gesture that made Snape shake his head. "No." He could hardly recognize his own voice as he said, "I want to do this."
There was something liberating about kneeling here, staring at Harry as he climbed towards completion, not being distracted by his own need. It was his own choice, as it had been his choice to offer his body to Harry for the first time in this room; intimate, private things he could share if he wanted to. And right now he did.
"Snape..."
The sound of his name called out in passion never ceased to thrill him.
"Snape!" This time Harry's groan was a warning. "If you don't move, I'm gonna... Oh damn it! Yes! Snape!"
Snape knew exactly what Harry meant and was pleased by such consideration. But he was not going to move no matter what would happen.
"I'm.... going to come... all over you..." Thrusting harder into Snape's grip, Harry sounded almost desperate as he ground out the words. "Snape..."
Nodding, Snape confirmed, "Yes, you are."
Those simple words made Harry tense, his shocked gaze burning into Snape's. Then he groaned, coming in almost painful contortions all over Snape's face and chest.
Mind completely blank, Harry slumped on the bed, muttering, "Oh my fucking god..." He didn't care if his Muggle roots were showing with his words or if Snape would comment on his swearing. He was boneless, unable to move, knowing nothing but Snape's gentle touch still on his prick.
He could feel Snape lean closer to rest his head against his thigh and reached out with a trembling hand to touch his hair. There was something sticky sliding through his fingers, not simply the greasy strands of Snape's hair, and he just had to say it again, "Oh my god, Snape."
There were so many things he wanted to say right now, but couldn't form anything more coherent than that. And maybe it was enough.
When he could breathe more or less steadily, he sat up again, staring at Snape with wondrous joy. He didn't say anything, just slipped on the floor next to him and kissed him.
"You're all messy," he whispered, kissing Snape again. "And now I'm all messy too." He kind of liked messy, especially this kind.
Snape kissed him back with hunger that startled even him. "How true."
"So maybe we should take a shower and I can wash your hair and you can then shag me against the tiles." Harry smiled. "Masturbating in your shower was indeed fun, but I want more. Like shagging till I squeal."
It never ceased to amaze Snape how easy it was to feel amusement in a situation like this. "That should not take much effort on my part." Harry was always enthusiastic in bed, making happy and demanding noises.
"I like the sound of that," Harry said, his voice muffled as he pulled his shirt off. "Now take off your clothes and let's make some more happy memories from here."
Closing his eyes, Snape couldn't believe how accurately Harry could interpret his actions. "That would be acceptable." He couldn't wait to peel the rest of Harry's clothes off and then run his hands all over his naked body. Naked, wet body.
He didn't know where all the pain and anger had gone, but there was such satisfaction in being with Harry that he didn't even question their absence.
They managed to get messier before finally washing away all the traces of mutual passion, neither slipping in the slippery shower even though it had been close a few times. It gave Snape the opportunity to make scathing comments about foolish Gryffindors and Harry to respond with a grin, so both were quite satisfied with the whole thing.
After they got dressed, things turned less cordial.
"I have to go and see Dumbledore. Order business," Harry said curtly.
Snape knew he would have to go back to the Headmaster's office sooner or later as well. Preferably later.
He allowed Harry to leave first, knowing that he needed to see Albus more than he did; important Order business had to come before any personal needs.
With Harry, his lighter mood seemed to disappear as well, leaving him to stare at the door for a long time before turning to face the rest of the room. His living room, his home that was not really his anymore.
He glared at the potions cupboard, pushing foolish contemplations out of his mind. He had work to do and would have to concentrate on packing his most important belongings with care and not dwell on something he couldn't change. Moving with precision, he saw to his vials and ingredients, finishing with them and his most precious books and then leaving the rest to the house elves.
The corridors were empty as he walked to the Headmaster's office, a fact he was glad of. Forcing even the resemblance of a polite expression his colleagues might expect to see on his face would be far too hard. He had spent years schooling his face to show nothing but calmness and obedience, but there was no reason for him to hold a control over his anger right now.
"Phoenix!" he barked out and then let the staircase carry him up.
Dumbledore's door was already open, as if inviting anyone in. Snape sneered at that; such a nice illusion.
The ancient Headmasters in the paintings were all awake, babbling frantically about something. Snape could hear a familiar name whispered with outrage, and this time there was pride in the sneer. It seemed like Harry could be a complete Gryffindor even while dealing with Albus Dumbledore, saying things that weren't really accepted in a polite society.
"Ah, Severus," Dumbledore said quietly, looking up from the tabby cat curled on his lap. "Come on in." He gestured at the chair on the other side of the small table.
The room was back to its old self, comfortable couches and chairs here and there; the large table and the chairs surrounding it was gone.
Snape didn't bother to slam the door shut behind him, he walked to the appointed chair and sat down, raising an eyebrow at the empty cup already waiting for him there. He wondered if Albus had spent the whole day waiting for him to come back. He certainly hoped so.
Keeping his expression neutral, he watched the cat uncurl in Dumbledore's lap and then butt her head against the hand still raised to run over her back. Only his eyes showed his amusement.
The cat held her tail proudly high as she walked out of the Headmaster's office with dignity.
"Minerva."
She didn't look at him, but from the way her fur bristled, it was clear she heard him well. The door slammed shut behind her.
Snape could feel the mood shift immediately from slightly melancholy to expectant.
"Severus." Dumbledore leaned forward, grabbing the teapot as if it was a reflex by now. "I'm glad you decided to come back."
"Yes." Not about to offer anything, Snape watched as Dumbledore poured him tea.
He didn't know why he was here or what was the point of this conversation. Leaving the room earlier with angry words and glares should have made his opinion clear already.
"I..." Letting the soft syllable fade out and die, Dumbledore shook his head and took a sip from his cup.
There were dozens of things Snape could have said, but he chose to simply sit there, arms crossed over his chest and staring at the teacup he wasn't going to pic up from the table.
Grabbing a parchment from the thin air, Dumbledore muttered. "Here are several options if you need a safe place to stay in..." He didn't even bother to finish that, knowing his offer wouldn't be necessary.
Snape stared at the old wizard who had once given him everything he'd ever needed. There had always been a price to pay, but he'd been willing to hand over anything that was asked.
He remembered Harry once asking how he'd felt towards Dumbledore. It was one question he would never have a simple answer to. Mixed with gratitude and reverence bordering on worship was a world of hatred and suspicion. He could see clearly where Albus was going to.
Manipulative bastard? Definitely, but he was also an excellent strategist. And moments like these, Snape was forced to admit that he was just a man, like anyone else in the world.
"That will not be necessary." Shaking his head, he kept his voice level. He couldn't believe he was making this choice, hated the fact that Dumbledore was even giving him the chance. It would have been so much simpler if it had been an order. "I will be staying with Potter."
It was surprising how easy it was to say it after all.
Dumbledore didn't say anything, he only nodded. He looked old and weary, and the way he sank even deeper into his chair seemed like a gesture for comfort.
"Was there anything else?" No matter how he might have wanted to, Snape couldn't say it harshly. This was a farewell, and even if by some miracle he was one day invited to return to Hogwarts as a teacher, things would never be the same again.
"No," Dumbledore said quietly. He watched Snape get to his feet and walk to the door before adding with a strangely hesitant voice, "Severus... Faced with your choice, I believe I might have let Minerva die."
The words came as a complete surprise. Snape spun around in shock to see the one thing he never expected to witness; Albus Dumbledore was looking at him with naked desperation in his eyes. He wanted to take that desperation away, tell him that he wouldn't have, that he would have saved her and everything would have been all right.
Instead, he tilted his head slightly. Albus was right, he always was; he was a legend too and his personal myth was just as complicated and confining as Harry's could be. "I know."
This might have been a game, one more trick up the old wizard's sleeve. Albus had guided him into becoming the perfect spy, had pushed Harry to the unwanted position as the greatest hero in their world and it had all been a part of his plan, but somehow Snape couldn't believe this was as calculated.
"You may be a better man than I am." Dumbledore looked down as he said it.
A genuine smile spread to Snape's lips. He knew his conscious decision between doing Dumbledore's bidding and going to Harry Potter out of free will ended a bond he'd held on to for decades, but he still couldn't feel real regret or sadness. Albus' words were just another example of the very familiar flamboyance he had to suffer from more than one person these days. "Somehow I doubt that."
Without commenting on the first look of real shock on Albus' face he'd ever managed to cause with his words, Snape turned around and walked out of the Headmaster's office.
Part 12 "Harry! Back so early?" There was delight in Ron's voice as he watched Harry walk into the kitchen. He'd thought Harry would spend the whole day at Hogwarts and it was barely time for afternoon tea.
Harry let out a sigh and sat at the table, reaching for a scone without a thought. "Yeah." The vigorous activities after the lunch had made him hungry, and he was pretty sure that as soon as he said a word about Snape there would be no chance for him to eat. He'd probably have no appetite left either.
He accepted the cup of tea from Draco, but couldn't manage a smile.
Lowering the Witch Weekly -- he only read for the laughs and nothing more --, Sirius asked, "Everything all right then?"
Harry had no idea what to say to that. No, things were definitely not all right, but maybe this change would turn out to be just fine, if they got beyond the phase where he was mad at Dumbledore and everyone else yelled at him and doubted his sanity.
Looking around with a calm expression, he said, "There's something we need to talk about." He wondered if he was reaching with his optimism. It would probably turn into a real fight before he even finished telling the others about his plan.
Sirius looked suspicious, recognizing the tone. "I don't think I'm going to like this," he said to Remus, noticing how tense he was.
"No, you probably won't."
On the other side of the table, Ron put his cup down carefully. "What is it?"
"I had a meeting with Albus today. We agreed that it's time for everyone in the Order to concentrate on the fighting." Harry paused for a moment, wondering why he felt he needed to lie, and then realized that no matter how mad he kind of was at Albus, he didn't want to say things to humiliate Snape. "There'll be more people moving into Hogsmeade. Including Snape. It's not safe for him to stay in Hogwarts anymore."
He wasn't going to say a word about Slytherins turning on the Head of their House either. If his friends didn't figure out that on their own, it would remain a secret.
"No!" It came out even before Sirius had a chance to think about the whole thing. He didn't need time to think about this. "You are not moving out of this house! This is the safest place in Hogsmeade and I forbid you to leave because of that..." The firm touch of Remus' hand on his arm made him cut the sentence before he said something that would make Harry mad.
He was definitely grateful.
"You're thinking of leaving?" Ron couldn't believe it. "But... This is your house! You can't just leave." It would mean he'd have to move as well, because he was not going let Harry out of his sight.
Harry looked at Remus, seeing a hesitant look on his face. He hoped he was up to the explosion that would surely follow his next words. "If I don't leave, the only option is for me to stay. And I'm not going to stay anywhere without Snape."
They could have heard the faint tinkle of a Snitch's wings flutter in the silence that followed.
Ugly dark red color was spreading over Sirius' face. He was obviously trying very hard not to scream. Or smash things. He definitely looked like he wanted to smash things right now. Ron didn't look much better, squeezing his hands into fists.
After waiting for a moment, Harry said quietly, "I know most of you don't like Snape and I'm not saying that he's overly thrilled by this idea either. But this really is the safest place I know."
He couldn't believe how sick this was making him feel. Having Snape over for the night weeks ago had been relatively easy, since Sirius and Remus hadn't been home, but this would be different. He was beginning to doubt his plan, wondering if they could ever coexist under the same roof.
To his total dismay, he realized he didn't care. He wanted this, so everyone should bloody well try!
"Harry!" Ron and Sirius both paused as they heard each other say the name with equal amount of exasperation.
Ron motioned Sirius to go on. After all, he was Harry's godfather; he'd be able to make him listen. Besides, Sirius hated Snape even more than he did, so he'd do his best to be persuasive.
Leaning back, Draco watched the Gryffindors fight over Snape. It was ridiculous. He could live with people he'd once hated, what was so damn different with Snape?
"Harry..." Sirius made sure he didn't see Remus' expression, knowing that he'd feel either really guilty or he'd start to yell if he did. Keeping his voice level was already a hardship, all the anger he had inside was threatening to escape in frantic words. "He can survive. Look, he's survived this long. I doubt he'd even want to live here. With all of us. Besides, there's no room for his potions here."
He was actually proud that he was able to argue those points rationally.
"Stop. You and I both know that's not true. The point isn't the room here, it's that you don't want me to be with him."
Sirius nodded. "Yes. I don't want you anywhere near him, but..." He also didn't want to see the sad look in Harry's eyes. It was even worse than suffering that disgusting man. "Just think about it, Harry! Please. I don't want to live with that... man." That evil and revolting greasy git.
Next to him, Ron was nodding slowly. He could definitely get the point.
It was difficult for Harry to not yell at them. He knew Sirius would never drive him away, would never make him choose between his love and someone else. What Sirius gave him was unconditional. Getting him and Snape to get along would probably take decades. Even that was kind of pushing the optimism too far.
He wanted to say lots of things, logical things about their cause, the fight. Staying together meant being safer and they needed each other. He even wanted to bang his fist on the table and say that it really was his house and he needed Snape here.
In the end he closed his eyes for a few seconds. When he opened them again, there was nothing but sadness in his gaze. "Sirius... I love you." He held up a hand to stall the immediate reply. "But you have to understand that I also love..." Shocked, he paused before saying, "Snape." He hadn't meant to just say it like that.
But he couldn't take it back.
This time they could have probably heard the Snitch's wings beating above the practice pitch in Hogwarts.
Not ready to face any implications of his words, Harry pushed his chair back. He knew he was running away again, but he couldn't handle sitting here any longer.
"Harry, wait!" Sirius' voice was choked, full of suppressed rage and fear. "I didn't..." He had no idea what he wanted to say, but he knew he couldn't let Harry walk away like this.
"I know." Looking a bit hesitant, Harry glanced at Ron. Then his gaze slid over Draco and Remus until it rested on Sirius again. "Just... Before you say anything else, think about where you live." He made a little gesture with his hand. "Think about where you sleep."
Feeling there would be no other coherent words coming out, he turned around and walked out of the room.
Sirius turned to Remus, shaking. "What... I..." He didn't think he understood what Harry had just said. Yes, he knew they were all aware of where he slept, and he knew painfully clearly where Ron and Malfoy slept most of their nights -- if that could be called sleeping.
"He meant we should think hard about were we sleep, and then think where he sleeps," Remus explained quietly. "He's alone, Sirius. He probably feels completely alone right now."
"But... He's not alone! He has us! All of us!" The long arc of Sirius' gesture even included Draco in.
Remus nodded. His words weren't however agreeing. "He has us. But it's not enough." He hated the way his words brought that desperate expression on Sirius' face. Moving without thinking, he grabbed Sirius' hand. "He loves us just as much as we love him, Sirius. But that kind of love isn't enough. He needs someone who's there just for him. A lover. He has chosen Severus Snape to be that, and there is nothing you or I or anyone can do to change that."
The glint in Sirius' eyes turned angry. He couldn't even remember a time when he hadn't detested the greasy Slytherin. "I hate that man!"
"I know. But that doesn't matter right now. All that matters is that Harry... loves him." There was bafflement in Remus' voice as well, but he tried to hide it.
It made no sense to him either, but he was willing to give the whole thing the benefit of the doubt. He knew Harry and trusted his judgement.
"He's making a mistake asking him to live here."
"Maybe, but we have to let him make his own mistakes." Remembering how that had been Sirius' favorite argument when they'd been teenagers, Remus leaned back on his chair.
That earned him a nasty look. "That was different. We never did anything as stupid as that." Sleeping with Snape and wanting to live with him? That was undoubtedly the most horrifying, disgusting, insane thing Sirius could think of.
"No. You found a way to become an Animagus to help your friend deal with being a werewolf. That's even worse, wouldn't you say?"
Sirius bristled with anger. "No. I wouldn't. He's... I bet he's using Harry somehow." The whole thought made his blood burn again.
"I don't think so." Even though he knew Sirius would never be able to see clearly when it was about Snape, Remus had to try.
Sirius grimaced as if he was tasting something foul. He looked around the table, taking in Ron's similar expression and the very calm look on Malfoy.
His gaze locked with the Slytherin. "You know Snape better than anyone here." It took a snake to really know one. He had nothing against Malfoy, especially after all he'd done for Harry, but he did know what he was like.
"Probably, yes." Draco nodded, even though he had to wonder if anyone really knew Snape.
"Is he just playing with Harry?" It was the question Sirius had wanted to ask for ages, but hadn't really wanted to hear the answer.
Draco grinned at the question, remembering how at the small cottage he had calculated his every expression when he was around Ron and wondered about the way Snape and Harry had been engaged in something he couldn't fathom. "No. He's definitely not playing with him."
"Then what is it?"
There was no real answer to that question. Draco wondered that himself. "I don't know. But I do know that he's not doing this to hurt Harry."
Sirius let out a sigh that sounded very much like a canine whine.
He hated this. He absolutely hated this!
Upstairs, Harry was pacing in his room, thoughts running aimlessly around his mind like headless chickens.
Had he really told everyone he loved Snape? Oh yeah, he had. It hadn't even required any thought; he'd simply opened his mouth and the words had poured out.
He let out a hysterical laughter.
The thing was, he didn't want to take it back. He wanted to live with Snape, have sex and things with him, annoy him by leaving socks all around the room and then watch him brew his potions. It wasn't a passing fancy; he wanted that for as long as he lived. What else could it be but love?
"I guess I really am an idiot." Saying that out loud somehow pushed the laughter away, as if it wasn't ridiculous after all.
Not a big revelation either, to be honest. So maybe he hadn't used that word before, it didn't mean that he hadn't known it was the perfect one to describe what he felt towards Snape.
Sighing, Harry stood in the middle of his room, wondering what to do next. He didn't want to go back downstairs and talk about Snape, he didn't want to keep pacing like this.
Ages ago, his only way to keep the dark thoughts at bay had been long walks through the corridors, searching through Hogwarts until he knew the castle better than any other student. He felt the restlessness grow in his body, familiar even after such a long absence, and his steps took him to his wardrobe before he could even make a conscious decision.
He'd go out for a walk, just around the streets of Hogsmeade, nothing dangerous. The only way for the hero of the Order to do that without gaining a few followers and a lot of attention was to wear his Invisibility Cloak.
Pushing his new clothes to the side, Harry grasped for the cloak and then frowned when he couldn't find it. He tried again, rummaging through the wardrobe, feeling a rush of panic rise as he still couldn't find what he was looking for.
"Damn it," he muttered, going through the drawers on the left side of the cupboard, knowing there was no way he would have crammed the cloak there with his underwear and socks but refusing to think he had lost it.
His Invisibility Cloak was the only real reminder he had of his father, that and the few photos he had of him and his mother and he couldn't have misplaced something so precious to him.
Harry sat hard on the floor, cursing out loud. After everything, this seemed too much, and it was somehow easier to be upset about this than the rest of his problems.
He knew that no one in the house would have taken his cloak without asking, but it was still gone. Trying to remember when he'd last seen it, he couldn't think of anything after the day they'd moved in here and he'd unpacked his clothes.
A faint memory of finding the wardrobe open even though he'd been sure he had closed the door surfaced, and he had a very unpleasant feeling between his shoulder blades. Had someone been able to sneak through their wards after all? And for what; the cloak?
He couldn't really believe that himself.
Maybe he should ask Ron just in case he'd borrowed it without having the time to ask. There was probably a reasonable explanation for all this, and he would find it just as soon as he felt like getting up and walking back downstairs to his family.
He closed his eyes, unable to make his body move.
He couldn't really face anyone -- that being mainly Sirius -- right now.
Even though they'd had arguments before, it had always been over something small; a slip to allow him to go to Hogsmeade, the sometimes reckless way he approached danger.
What Sirius said mattered. His opinion had always meant more to Harry than anyone else's, but this time he wouldn't let it sway him.
He was going to live with Snape. Maybe here, maybe somewhere else, but he was not going to let this chance slip away.
The fights were becoming more open, more ruthless, and deep inside Harry knew these smaller raids couldn't last forever. Sooner or later, there would have to be a choice between reacting and actually attacking, and that would very likely be one of the last decisions he made.
Unlike months ago, the thought of dying didn't open up the vast emptiness inside. This time Harry acknowledged it as a probability and moved on. If there was a chance he was going to die, he wasn't going to waste time on guilt or trying to make everyone happy.
He wanted to do this one thing for himself; it had felt like that from the beginning, his one selfish act while still being the self sacrificing hero their world wanted him to be.
Fine. But he was not going to do this without Snape.
There was a soft knock on the door, and Harry had to swallow before he could call out. "Come on in." He wondered who it would be; probably either Remus or Ron, coming to keep him company.
"Harry." Opening the door a little and peeking into the room, Sirius blinked as he couldn't see anyone. Then he noticed Harry sitting on the floor in front of the wardrobe.
He stepped into the room quietly and closed the door behind him,
With a few steps he was next to Harry, and not knowing what else to do, he sat down right beside him.
"I'm sorry."
Both smiled a little as they managed to say that at the same time.
Sirius shook his head, the smile disappearing from his lips. "No, I'm sorry." He didn't explain it further.
"Yeah." Relaxing a little, Harry nodded. "I know." It would have been easier if he could have been angry at Sirius, but no matter how annoying the stubborn hatred his godfather cherished was, he still couldn't be angry at Sirius.
"Good." Sirius took the words as a permission and leaned his shoulder against Harry's, enjoying the silence for a moment.
Before walking up here, he'd had a few more words with Remus and the others. Some spoken quietly, most growled from between clenched teeth so that he wouldn't scream. When Hermione had arrived from her meeting, they had gone through the whole thing again.
He was definitely tired of all the logic now.
Listening to her and Remus talk had forced him to look at the whole thing from a different angle, especially when Hermione had said she didn't mind Snape moving in with them. Her tone had been relaxed, unlike the barely concealed revulsion and grudging pity she still showed for Draco Malfoy.
He still didn't like the idea; to be quite honest, he hated it with burning passion. But it didn't really matter what he thought, as long as Harry was happy.
It was clear that right now, he wasn't.
Sirius looked at Harry. "You really want to live with that man?" He tried to keep the disgust out of his voice, but the way Harry flinched told him that he hadn't really been successful.
"Yes. I want to live with him," Harry said. He knew he shouldn't want it this much, since everything he'd ever wanted had turned into ashes. There would be more shouting and anger and outrage, but he added anyway, "I don't want to live without him."
It was worse than what Sirius had feared. He recognized that expression; it reminded him of that night three years ago when he had crawled to Remus' house, expecting to be thrown out. There had been too many unsaid things between them then, too many years of suspicion and loneliness. He'd been certain Remus wouldn't want him there, not the way they'd been so long ago.
Finding that the old love hadn't really disappeared anywhere had been a miracle. The embrace he'd been enfolded in hadn't taken all the pain and misery away, but it had been a new beginning. His chance of a redemption.
How could he deny such happiness from Harry? What kind of a man was he if he insisted on making Harry look so sad and lonely?
"Then... you should live with him." Hating the whole concept, Sirius was barely able to squeeze the words out. But no matter how much he loathed Snape, he loved Harry more. "This is your home, and if you want to share it with Snape, I'm not going to try to stop you."
Harry let out a relieved sigh and turned to hug his godfather. He knew exactly how hard this was to Sirius. "Thank you!"
"Don't mention it."
Part 13 The atmosphere in the dungeons was exactly as freezing as it had been yesterday when Harry had come down here, but this time he didn't have to wonder why.
He knew that it didn't matter that Snape had accepted his offer rather graciously -- after all the arguing --, things wouldn't be exactly easy today when leaving this place behind became reality.
No words of consolation would be appreciated, and to be honest, Harry didn't have any phrases to offer. He would miss the dungeons as well, finding the windowless rooms a sanctuary of sorts, and could only imagine how difficult this was for Snape.
He waited patiently as Snape checked his possessions again and then made sure he wasn't in the way as Snape stormed out of the room with an angry look on his face.
With a glance around the room now empty of all personal items, Harry took a step towards the door. Then he turned to look at the chair he'd slept in those nights when he'd first come into the dungeons and pulled out his wand. His shrinking charm wasn't as good as Snape's potion, but the chair shrunk enough to be carried out comfortably.
He didn't say anything and simply followed Snape out of the dungeons.
They were quiet until half way to Hogsmeade. Then Snape broke the silence by asking, "I assume your godfather will be moving out then."
"No. I managed to convince Sirius that this is the best thing to do right now." Harry had been expecting the question as well as the very comical look of shock that followed his answer.
Snape was certain he had heard wrong. Reasoning with Black? That was as feasible as teaching a flubberworm to tap dance. "I hope you used simple words and short sentences." He hadn't known Harry would have the patience for that.
"Behave!" The chiding word escaped before Harry could think about what he was saying, but even with the glare, he did not take it back.
If Harry really expected him to stop hating the mutt, he was definitely not in touch with reality. Snape muttered, "I will certainly not hold my tongue in his presence." Or anyone else's. It was bad enough to agree on this, to leave his home and accept something that felt awfully lot like charity.
Harry didn't say anything. He just raised an eyebrow. It was an infuriating expression, especially since Snape suspected that the idiot had adopted it from him.
Snape's eyes shone with open malice. "Then you want me to join you and your friends in coddling your less than sane godfather." The look he cast at Harry was a very strange one.
"Not really." Unwilling to take the bait, even though he was definitely going to make Snape pay for that comment later on, Harry shook his head slightly. "You can be as evil as you want to be. As long as you don't do him any real harm." He made sure he didn't smile as he looked at Snape. "I trust you."
Hearing the dark words Snape muttered at that, he turned his head away and grinned. Sometimes it was almost unbelievable what a few words could do. Snape was definitely not going to go easy on Sirius, but wouldn't really hurt him either.
One day -- far in the future -- he would ask the two men just exactly how much they enjoyed their mutual enmity. Both would probably try to hex him for his assumption, but he wasn't completely blind. It was obvious how happy a well aimed barb could make them.
Like when he was out walking with Draco, Harry noticed people casting weird looks at him and his companion. He chose not to acknowledge any of the staring, keeping his attention on Snape instead, still amused by the grumbling.
They were going home; such a weird thought, especially since he'd already lived in the house for ages. Now it would really feel like a home with everyone he cared for gathering under the same roof, and the mere thought made him grin like an idiot.
A fact Snape commented on with dry sarcasm.
Holding the door open for Snape, Harry let him enter first and then stepped in as well, belatedly wondering if their entrance would startle someone inside. He didn't want to think that either Ron or Sirius would actually be waiting for them, but one could never really be sure with those two.
"Harry. Professor Snape." Smiling politely, Draco stepped out of the kitchen, holding a steaming cup in his hand.
Snape inclined his head slightly. "Mr. Malfoy." He cast a look around. "I'm surprised there's no welcoming committee waiting."
"I believe most people here are awfully busy, sir. Planning classes and strategy as well as sulking in their rooms."
That made Harry laugh out loud. "Well, sulking is better than most of the things I could have imagined."
"Indeed." Snape nodded.
Draco agreed on that, knowing all too well how both Black and Weasley could throw tantrums at the mere thought of Snape. Of course there would probably be yelling and glaring and more sulking later on. "So true." After sharing a knowing look with Harry, he muttered, "It's good to see you, sir." Not waiting for a reply, he continued on his way to the living room.
Glad to see that at least Draco could behave normally, Harry grinned at him and then ushered Snape upstairs before Sirius could indeed come out of the room he shared with Remus and make things worse. He was a realist, after all.
He hesitated as he reached the small hallway, realizing that he'd just assumed Snape would indeed want to share a room with him. It was actually probable that Snape would want as much privacy as possible. How stupid of him to ignore that. "Um... I didn't actually prepare a room for you, but if you want to have your own place, it's all right."
Snape rolled his eyes. Did Harry really think he could convince anyone with that rather sad expression on his face? Probably. Delusional Gryffindor. "That will not be necessary." He wouldn't be able to keep the room as his own private area anyway.
"I meant what I said earlier." Harry didn't make a move to guide Snape to his bedroom. "This will be your home, but I won't order you to sleep with me. I'm not like..." Realizing he'd better not finish the sentence the way it was echoing inside his mind, he said lamely, "that."
"I see." Hearing both what was said and what was kept silent, Snape nodded. He hadn't really thought Harry would abuse his position like that. "Are you going to stand here all day or can we put my belongings into your room now?"
Harry grinned. "Our room." Saying it out loud made his stomach flutter. He didn't even mind the glare. His and Snape's room.
"I assume you also have the room down in the cellar for a work space for me." Seeing the nod, Snape let out a slightly pleased snort. That would be his own private area and it would be enough.
He didn't mind Harry's presence, but old habits died hard. Spending all time joined at the hip like some people seemed to do would never do with Snape.
"Here we are..." Harry muttered as he opened the door and gestured Snape to enter. He couldn't believe how insanely giddy he was feeling, but even though it was kind of embarrassing, he relished the feeling.
Snape looked around the room, his lips twitching slightly as he took in the green drapes and the clearly enlarged bed, both things different from his previous visit. He could see that the room had been thoroughly cleaned recently, the smell of various cleaning potions still faint in the air.
Casting a knowing look at Harry, he chose not to say anything about the faint fluster or the foolish grin on his lips. He should have known Harry would make some kind of a silly gesture and had as usual gone overboard with it. At least there were no Slytherin crests anywhere. "Lovely decor."
"You like it?" There was honest anticipation in Harry's voice.
"It's adequate." As long as Harry didn't insist on using red and gold on every surface, Snape was fine. "And I noticed you've cleaned as well. How unusual."
That made Harry glare. "I am not messy!" At least not compared to Ron. He knew how to hang his robes in the closet and not throw them on the floor.
Snape didn't look convinced. He stared for a moment before saying, "Since it seems I will not be rid of you, I will have to take your word on it." Seeing the ridiculous smile that spread to Harry's lips, he added, "However if your housekeeping proves to be as exemplary as your studying, we may have to discuss about our living arrangements again on a later date."
He wasn't surprised by the way Harry stepped closer to him to give him a fierce hug.
"Now, I assume you have cleared some space for my belongings." Enlarging the trunk with his clothes, he looked around.
"Yeah." Harry gestured with his hand at the wardrobe. "Lots of space in there!"
Snape cast an exasperated look at him. "Gryffindors!" He didn't even comment on Harry's exuberance, finding the unadulterated joy amusing instead of annoying, and went to hang his robes in the wardrobe.
Harry still couldn't really believe this. Watching Snape unpack his trunk was making him almost light headed with relief and happiness. It was nice, really nice, and he was planning on savoring the feeling as long as it lasted.
"Do you have any plans for today?"
Jolting out of his thoughts, Harry looked up at Snape's question. "Not really. Don't need to go anywhere today, now do I?" It would have to be a pretty big emergency to pull him out of here. "Maybe we could..." He was certain Snape wouldn't agree on spending the whole day in bed, so he finished it lamely, "Er... I could show you the house."
"That is acceptable." Snape didn't bother to remind him he'd already seen the house. "Anything else?"
"Well, it's almost lunch time, so I was thinking... Lunch?" Grinning like a fool, Harry reveled in the exasperation in Snape's gaze. He was really too euphoric to even try to control himself right now.
Snape seemed to realize that as well, as he muttered a few words so quietly that they couldn't be heard before sighing, "That is also acceptable."
"And then later I was thinking..." Sex. Lots and lots of it. Maybe in the bathroom with the door locked and a few silencing charms protecting them, or in his bed, that nice and soft and wonderfully large bed he would never again sleep in alone.
This time Snape didn't even try to hide the sneer. "I know exactly what you are thinking of, Potter." He'd known this would happen and the only surprise was the fact that Harry hadn't suggested they spent the day in bed. Not that he would have agreed to that, at least without a few token objections.
Harry smiled. "And?"
"We should have lunch first."
There were sounds coming from the dining room when they finally went downstairs, and Harry felt a moment of utter panic as he realized that yes, Snape really was living with them now, and that the next few minutes would probably be an utter disaster.
Sighing, Harry cast a look at Snape. "You do know that..." He didn't know what to say, really, knowing that Sirius and the others were waiting just behind the door, and that he couldn't really tell Snape not to react to anything anyone said to him.
"Yes, I do." There was evident disgust and resignation on Snape's face.
Harry chose not to say anything, he simply pushed the door open and stepped into the dining room first, hoping that no one would hex him.
It was clear there had been some kind of discussion about the eating arrangements. Harry smiled a little as he saw Sirius sitting between Remus and Hermione, noticing also the empty seats that would place him and Snape between Remus and Draco. He refused to comment on the preemptive strike, glad that Snape went only with a raised eyebrow and a brief nod at Draco.
"Severus." Remus inclined his head politely. "Hope you found your new quarters suitable."
Taking the seat next to Draco, Snape cast a brief look at Sirius and then said, "Yes. They are adequate."
It was fairly obvious to everyone who was looking at Harry that Snape wasn't exactly talking about the empty room upstairs. Remus was just glad Sirius was keeping his gaze on the table. "Good. Juice?"
"Yes, please." Harry reached out for a glass.
"Severus?"
Nodding, Snape took the offered glass. "Thank you."
Ron was already used to the polite words, but Sirius glanced up, waiting for Snape to say something scathing.
When it seemed like the Slytherin was content on sipping his juice, Sirius returned his attention back to the table. He had given his word to Remus; he was going to keep it and sit here and try not to kill anyone.
No matter how difficult it might be.
The house elves chose that moment to come in. Banging the door open, Eppy wobbled in, carrying a tray while Bobbler hovered behind her holding a large kettle.
Setting the table looked as painstakingly exhausting as always, but all the Gryffindors knew better than to even offer their help. It would not be appreciated.
Eppy was making soft annoyed sounds as she placed the cups on the table, casting a glare at each man as she passed them by. When she saw Snape sitting next to Harry, she froze and her ears lifted in surprise. For a moment it almost looked as if she was pleased to see him again. Then she went on muttering from under her breath as she finished with the plates and cups and gestured Bobbler to put the kettle down on the table.
No one said a word as Snape cast a glance at Hermione, obviously expecting her to serve herself first. She smiled hesitantly, muttering, "Hello, professor," before reaching out for the ladle.
"Miss Granger," Snape answered just as softly.
The men attacked the food with various show of appetite, everyone concentrating on eating -- or pushing the food around the plate. Draco was the only one to behave normally, neither glaring or beaming at Snape.
Ron mouthed to Hermione, "Awkward!"
She rolled her eyes at him, but couldn't really disagree. This was definitely weird.
For a while the only sound in the room was spoons clicking against porcelain.
Harry was glad to see there was not going to be a scene. From the way it looked, Sirius wasn't even going to acknowledge Snape's presence in the room, and even though it was a bit annoying, Draco had been right; sulking was much better than most of the things he could think of.
He had the weird notion that if they managed to survive this first lunchtime, they could probably survive all living together.
"Pass me the juice, please."
The cold but polite tones coming from Snape startled everyone, and both Hermione and Remus reached out for the pitcher that was resting right in front of Sirius. Their clumsy attempts to grab the pitcher made it teeter dangerously, and only Sirius' reflexes prevented a disaster.
Sirius curled his hand tighter around the pitcher and then slowly looked up.
Snape stared right back at him.
"Snape."
"Black."
The two of them kept staring at each other.
"Help!" Ron mouthed at Hermione, wondering if he should prepare for an all out name calling or just crawl under the table. It looked awfully like there would be a food fight any moment now, or at least an expensive glassware hurtling towards Snape's head.
Crawling under the table sounded better every moment.
Remus reached out calmly and took the pitcher from Sirius and then poured Snape more juice.
"Thank you." Breaking the eye contact with Black, Snape nodded at Remus and then resumed his eating. He pointedly ignored the way Black was still staring at him.
After years of eating in the Great Hall he was used to dining while people were staring daggers at his direction.
Harry looked from Sirius to Snape, relaxing when Sirius lowered his gaze a moment later and continued pushing his food around his plate. This was going better than he had dared to dream. No one had yelled or cursed or thrown things.
That would probably come later.
As soon as Snape seemed to be finished with his meal, Harry decided it was time to go before anyone could say anything that would lead into a fight. "That was excellent as always."
Eppy, who was slowly gathering dishes away, huffed at that.
"Anyway, I think we should continue our tour." Harry looked pointedly at Snape. "Would you like to see the rooms in the cellar now?" It sounded more like a command than a suggestion.
"Of course," Snape murmured. He was perfectly willing to leave insulting Black until a later date. This was more important than amusing himself with foolish Gryffindors.
Sirius raised his gaze again, his expression full of disgust. "Going to play with your chemistry set again, Snape?" he sneered, as if it was impossible for him to keep his silence anymore.
It was better to continue with the open hostility than to think about Harry showing Snape the house that was going to be his home. Dear Merlin! He hoped Snape was going to live in the spare room upstairs.
He had no idea what to do if Snape was staying somewhere else.
The answering sneer on Snape's face was just as malicious. "Yes, Black, I am. What about you? Chase any brooms lately?"
Harry rolled his eyes, ignoring the barely hidden amusement on Hermione's face. "Very clever. Now let's go." He shooed Snape to the right direction, muttering quietly to himself.
He was a bit surprised to have Snape walk down to the cellar without protests or even an offhand remark about Sirius and idiotic Gryffindors.
Choosing to concentrate on his new laboratory, Snape allowed himself to be guided down a set of stairs, keeping an eye on every detail in the rooms below ground level.
The first room was inadequate for any real work, but would probably serve well as a storage. He could already picture various jars and bottles here and there, all he needed was a few shelves and maybe a cupboard or two.
Nodding to himself, he walked to the smaller room, approving of the place immediately. The ventilation system needed a slight improving, but that would be easy to fix. Everything else was suitable; the lighting was good with the small window near the ceiling even letting in natural light, and the table at the far side of the room was of a pefect height.
Harry smiled as he saw the obvious enthusiasm. Trying not to sound wistful, he asked, "So do you want to try out the room now?" He knew for a fact that Snape had brought all his equipment with him, and would undoubtedly want to start working immediately.
Oh well. Maybe he would be allowed to help somehow, like by carrying things around.
"Maybe later." Turning his attention away from his new domain, Snape let a smirk spread to his lips and then gestured at the door. "I do believe we already have other plans for the day."
Part 14 Getting dressed again after hours of blissful nakedness seemed wrong somehow, but Harry had to agree that they actually needed to eat at some point.
He wondered if the others would leave them be if they never emerged from their room again, and then decided it wasn't worth risking. Spending most of the day in bed with Snape was one thing. Having Sirius die of a heart attack was another.
Snape finished his ablutions first, adamant on going downstairs when he was ready instead of waiting for Harry.
This was his life now, and no matter how most of his hours spent in this house would undoubtedly be spent in the small rooms in the cellar or in the large bed in Harry's -- he was still wary of calling it theirs unlike Harry who seemed to revel in the thought -- bedroom, he was not about to back away from any battles.
He was not going to let Harry steer him away from those either.
Draco Malfoy was the first person he encountered downstairs, and he idly wondered if the boy had been standing guard, waiting for him.
"Professor Snape." There was the barest hint of a smirk on Draco's lips. "Dinner isn't served yet. Would you care to join us in the living room?" He made a gesture towards the door.
Accepting the offer with a nod, Snape followed Malfoy, listening to the effortless small talk half heartedly while looking at the small group of people who were trying to look as if they hadn't been waiting for anyone.
He was surprised to see Black in his human form. Usually the mutt seemed to prefer looking like the shaggy beast he truly was when he was feeling more unbalanced than usual.
Snape nodded curtly at everyone, ignoring Weasley's half-grimace and the way Black growled at him.
He simply sat on the couch.
Black and Lupin had been in the middle of a discussion, and since Snape was only going to sit here and wait, they went on with it, soon turning the whole thing into an amicable argument.
At least the other Gryffindors seemed to be able to sit relatively quietly, Weasley fiddling with chess pieces and trying not to look at anyone, and Granger reading a book.
Snape didn't know what he'd been expecting, but it wasn't really this cozy scene.
The whole day had been full of small surprises, leaving him rather restless. Even though the thought of being able to organize his new working place soon and the reality of spending most of the day in bed with a very eager Harry Potter were pleasant, he was still waiting for things to turn ugly. Whenever it looked like something was too good to be true, it usually was.
At least Lupin's comments were keeping Black too busy to turn his attention on him. Snape had the feeling that would change soon enough.
And Merlin, those two could still bicker! It was as if he was transported back in time to the Great Hall to suffer through yet another of the foolish arguments. He hoped they would actually stop their childishness before dinner was served, since he for one wasn't going to suffer through this as he ate.
Watching over first years wasn't as annoying as this.
Sirius looked up just in time to see Snape's exasperated look, and it was enough to break his tirade. Why on earth should he nag at Remus when he could have a real fight with Snape?
Especially now that Harry wasn't down here to disapprove.
He glowered at Snape and growled, "What?"
Looking slowly from Black to Lupin and back again, Snape said, "I see you two are still quarreling like an old married couple." He waited for the inevitable explosion.
Which never came.
Divided between his promise to both Harry and Remus and the very urgent need to punch that sneering look out of Snape's ugly face, Sirius curled his hand into a fist. The git would indeed look much better with that unnaturally large nose of his smashed into bloody pulp.
He took a deep breath, fingernails scraping his palm as he squeezed his hand tighter into a fist, but he managed to hold still.
"That is a fairly accurate assessment of the situation, yes." Gaze gleaming with mirth, Remus looked from Sirius to Snape, his hand touching Sirius' arm slightly.
The first time he'd ever heard that jibe had been at school, and it had made both him and his friend act awkwardly towards each other for weeks, both fearing they were revealing too much. Now it didn't make him want to hide anymore; it was more like a compliment than an insult.
Snape turned his attention to Lupin, malicious amusement clear on his face. "Indeed?" Not really a question. The mutt and his werewolf were not exactly what he would call discreet. "My deepest condolences."
"What? No other comments or jokes about us?" Sirius was waiting for the predictable nasty words, and was stunned when there were none.
"That would be rather hypocritical right now, wouldn't it Black?" Snape asked snidely, finding his own words annoying as soon as they left his lips, and glared at Black as if it was all his fault.
Sirius glared right back, wanting nothing more than to jump up and strangle Snape for all the things he'd just said and more importantly for the things he'd barely hinted at.
The way Remus cleared his throat distracted him for just a moment, but it was enough to remind him just exactly why he wasn't supposed to use violence towards the slimy Slytherin. Too bad the reason was exactly the same that made him so mad in the first place.
He wasn't going to do anything that would make Harry unhappy. Keeping his gaze on Remus' eyes, he repeated that until the urge to hit Snape dissipated just a little.
Snape pointedly ignored the exchange of looks.
There were more sounds coming from the kitchen, accompanied by delicious scents that made Crookshanks uncurl at the windowsill and stretch himself.
The cat jumped to the floor and padded quietly to the door, rubbing his cheek against the doorframe as if it would somehow allow him to enter. When the door stayed shut, he let out a disappointed sound, and then headed to Hermione, where he enjoyed the pat on his head before making a tour around the room, sniffing at everyone.
Keeping an eye on the cat, Snape raised an eyebrow at the way Draco Malfoy seemed to be uncomfortable with the way the creature kept staring at him.
Snape on the other hand sat and watched the cat make his round.
"Crookshanks..." Hermione called out as the ginger cat went to rub his whole body against Snape's legs, leaving tufts of hair on the black trousers.
Snape simply stared at the cat, who seemed to be content making another brush against him. "I see your kneazle is showing all the proper Gryffindor traits as well." Mainly complete disregard on the glare and stubbornly flaunting his affections.
"He's only half-kneazle," Hermione corrected, as if she was unable to let it pass. "And thank you, sir." Her expression was solemn, but there was laughter in her eyes, as if she knew perfectly well that it wasn't a compliment.
The way Snape sneered at that was definitely not unexpected.
"You should be careful, Crookshanks." Turning his attention to the cat, Sirius warned, "Snape there might want to cut you into a potion."
"Thank you for yet another example of your wit, Black. Any second year should know that the only part of a kneazle you can use in a potion is its hair." Snape brushed some of it off his pants, staring at Sirius pointedly.
Sirius glared at that.
There were footsteps coming from the hallway, and then Harry pushed the door open. Most of the people in the room turned to stare at him, with only Snape still concentrating on Crookshanks who was rubbing his face against his shoes.
"Hi, Harry," Ron said, as if making sure there would be no awkward silence was the most important thing in the world.
Sirius barely noticed the way Remus' hand had tightened on his arm. All he could concentrate was the way Harry's hair seemed wet, like after a shower, and he really didn't want to think about why Harry would need a shower before dinner. He also didn't want to think about what he'd been doing all day and with whom.
But even he couldn't miss noticing the way Harry's gaze went immediately to Snape even as he answered Ron's greeting, and how the heartwrenchingly familiar smile appeared on his lips the moment he saw the git.
It was the one thing that kept him sitting still until dinner was served.
Dinner was almost a repetition of the lunchtime awkwardness, with the exception that even Sirius seemed to have found his appetite again.
"Would you like some more juice, professor?" Hermione asked, noticing Snape's glass was empty. She didn't want to witness another glaring match.
"Thank you, Miss. Granger." Snape nodded at her politely and reached out with his glass, ignoring the way both Black and Weasley stared at him. He noticed that Remus Lupin was having a hard time not showing his amusement, and that even young Malfoy was hiding a smirk.
He decided not to ask what it was all about. These idiots would undoubtedly tell him sooner or later anyway.
Hermione smiled at him and poured him the juice. "You're welcome, professor. And please. It's Hermione." With all the glaring and the tension, she wanted to show the man some support.
The blank stare Snape aimed at her spoke volumes.
"Er... Or Miss. Granger. Whatever you prefer, sir." Wondering if she'd overstepped her bounds, Hermione turned her attention back to her food.
That was the extent of small talk during the dinner.
Finishing with his food, Harry took the offered cup of tea and leaned back on his chair. He was feeling better than in ages, the day off from the constant worrying about the war as good an idea as spending most of the day in bed with Snape.
Tomorrow would be back to business; there would be lots of paperwork waiting as well as the inevitable meetings and he would have to concentrate on that again.
Sighing, he stared at his tea a while longer and then looked up. "Okay. I'm glad we've all come to decide on the awkward silence instead of the yelling and name calling and cursing."
"Harry..." Looking concerned, Remus tried to think of a way to dissolve the tension, but there was nothing to really say.
"I don't mind the silence. It's better than some things I could name." The expression on Harry's face told he'd already named most of them. "I just want to be sure we can actually talk about things and not just explode and start fighting when it gets too awkward."
Sirius looked at Harry, knowing his words were mostly aimed at him, but what on earth could he say? That he wanted Snape out of their lives? That should be obvious by now, but saying it out loud would change nothing.
"I think we can manage."
No one seemed surprised when it was Remus who said the words and even sounded like he meant them.
Casting a brief look at Sirius and then at Snape, he added, "We're all adults here, so I think..." His voice trailed off when Sirius gazed at him with disbelief and Snape simply raised an eyebrow. "We'll manage if we concentrate on the here and now."
Sirius didn't think that concentrating on Snape living here and making Harry grin goofily was any better than concentrating on the past, but Remus had a point. "Okay."
There was a brief pause until Snape nodded. "I agree. Dwelling on things past won't change anything." His voice was cold, though, saying clearly he was still not forgetting what had happened years ago.
It was clear he wasn't finished, and Remus cocked his head slightly. "But?"
"There is something I must insist on." Ignoring the glare thrown at him by Black, Snape kept looking at Remus, a hint of caution creeping into his gaze.
Since there didn't seem to be any malice in the way Snape looked at him, Remus managed a smile. "Let me guess. You want me to stay in our room during the full moon with wards on the door?" He didn't even need to see Snape's nod to know he'd guessed correctly.
He wasn't surprised by the whole thing. What Sirius had done years ago had almost destroyed him and killed Snape; it wasn't something either would exactly forget.
The way Snape was sitting there, waiting for him to go on was however astonishing. They had never discussed the matter beyond a few angry retorts from Snape every time he handed him his Wolfsbane, which was a gesture of the man's professionalism and definitely not of his forgiveness.
Before he could say anything else, Sirius growled, "You have no right to ask that!" He'd known it would come to this.
"Yes, he does." Remus' tone was gentle, a striking contrast to Sirius' rage. He didn't want to say more or point out that Sirius had made it damn clear Snape would have the right to ask that by creating the whole issue in the first place.
There were so many things about the past they could fight about, and Remus knew there were questions he would probably want to ask later on, things that even now nagged at him. But this would lead nowhere. "He does have the right to ask."
Sirius was holding on to the tabletop, knuckles turning white. He was trying to calm his breathing, face red and eyes blazing with rage. Hearing the quiet words that held so many memories but no recrimination, he seemed to deflate, losing most of his rage under the pain. "Remus..."
"It's all right." Touching Sirius' hand gently, Remus smiled. "Let it be."
Watching the exchange in silence, Snape was shocked by how quickly Black seemed to agree with Lupin and the almost desperate need for approval so evident in him. His memory of the man was somewhat different, the arrogance oozing from Black had been the most notable trait in him when they had all still been students at Hogwarts, and he'd not seen anything in the Order meetings that would dispel that memory.
He realized that his words about Black being less than sane had been more correct than he could have guessed.
Nevertheless, it wasn't Black's mental state that made him murmur at Lupin, "I would appreciate it."
"Of course." Still holding Sirius' hand, Remus nodded. He would raise the wards, just as he would let Snape watch him drink the Wolfsbane if he wanted to. Not willing to mention his one time lapse three years ago in front of Sirius and the children, Remus hoped Snape wouldn't either.
Acknowledging the somber tone even more than the words, Snape raised his tea cup. "Thank you." Seeing Black's eyes widen at the simple courtesy never ceased to amuse him.
He ignored the way most of the other Gryffindors seemed to be beaming at him and continued drinking his tea.
There were no other comments, and when everyone had finished with their meal, no one seemed to want to stay in the living room for a quiet conversation.
But there was less of the awkward tension Harry had mentioned.
Snape didn't say anything about the dinner as he shut the bedroom door behind him, not commenting on the weird scene in the hallway with Weasley glaring at Malfoy followed by frantic scrambling into one of the other bedrooms either.
He was going to miss the peace and quiet of his dungeons, but maybe living with these people wouldn't be as bad as he'd thought.
Especially if they gave him privacy when he worked.
Taking off his robes, Snape cast a look at Harry who was very pointedly folding his own clothes on the chair he'd taken from the dungeons. It was a domestic sight of sorts, one that reminded Snape of something that had been said earlier.
He didn't think he should comment on the scene with Lupin and Black, but curiosity drove him to ask about the thing Granger had brought up. "Would you prefer calling me Severus from now on?" Offering the use of his first name did seem logical.
Harry dropped his sock on the floor, gawking with mild shock at the non sequitur. "You want me to call you Severus?" The name felt strange on his lips. He wasn't certain he really wanted to call Snape that.
He didn't know why. Maybe because all these years, he'd got used to the man and his name and changing that perception would tell people things had changed. Even though he didn't mind everyone knowing what was between him and Snape, he didn't want to sound as if he was somehow seeing Snape in a completely different light.
"Not necessarily." There were only a few people who called Snape by his first name, mostly his colleagues, and even they seemed to choke on it from time to time. "It doesn't really matter to me."
"Okay. Do you want to call me Harry?"
Snape thought for a moment. Did he? He already thought of the twerp as Harry anyway. "Whatever you prefer." He had no opinion on the matter.
"I think I'd like to call you... Snape. If that's all right with you." Harry liked the name. It suited Snape, and he was probably the only person in the whole world who said it with fondness. Usually it was almost like a curse.
Nodding, Snape lifted the covers and sat on the bed. "It is my name." As long as Harry didn't call him with any of the nauseating nicknames the Gryffindors seemed to like -- the four idiots from his school years taking it to the extreme -- he didn't really care.
"Snape. Okay. And you can call me Harry if you want to." Most of the people already called him that anyway. "Or Potter." Harry knew Snape would probably just call him idiot.
It was nice to crawl into bed, feeling exhausted and shagged out. Harry didn't mention the dinner, knowing that awkward didn't begin to describe it, but also feeling that it could have gone so much worse.
No one had been hexed, no one had left the house in anger. That was something.
Snuggling against Snape in the dark, muttering the usual "Good night," Harry thought that this moment alone was worth all the awkwardness.
Part 15 There were a few gloomy stares aimed at both Snape and Harry the next morning as they walked to the Headquarters together, but no one said a thing.
It grated on Harry, making his skin crawl. There had been no comments about the way Snape was so obviously staying with him and his family, but somehow the silence was worse than anything.
If there were words, he could respond to them somehow; even though he didn't really believe in explaining himself, he could make it absolutely clear that he knew what he was doing.
Now there was just the oppressive silence and surprised looks following them into the meeting hall, the stares intensifying as Snape took his place next to Draco Malfoy until the tension was almost suffocating.
Harry sighed, and took the empty seat next to Snape.
Soon it seemed like people had already began to discuss something far more important than professor Snape's possible new quarters.
"So, when exactly will the final battle be?" asked Sprout.
The enthusiastic nods coming from all around the table chilled Harry, because he knew there could be no answer. You could make plans and have perfect strategies, and still there was no telling when a battle would be the last one. All they could really plan was the first big battle and hope there wouldn't be another one.
Arabella Figg scoffed. "Who cares when? I'm more concerned in where. The Death Eaters seem to be completely happy with rampaging all around the country, burning a house here and another one there."
Excited babbling followed her words as everyone felt the need to voice their theories or more questions.
"Don't be stupid, Arabella," Hooch's comment could be heard even above all the noise, her voice that was perfectly suited for coaching Quidditch players echoing in the room without the aid of a sonorus. "Where do you think it will be?"
Ignoring the way Sirius smirked at the prospect of having the two ladies start a real fight, Harry cleared his throat.
"Of course! Hogwarts! Oh, that was silly of me!" Sprout fussed, looking slightly embarrassed. "Sorry about that."
People smiled at her, no one even trying to challenge what she had just said.
Arabella Figg glared at Hooch.
"Yes, Hogwarts," Harry muttered before anyone could say anything they might -- or might not -- regret later. He knew his words would sound like an affirmation and was glad he wouldn't have to form any other lies.
He once again wished it would be as simple as that; the final battle, the war fought between him and Voldemort only, the hero conquering the bad guy in time for everyone to go home for tea.
He pushed that firmly out of his mind.
"So what can we do about it?" Sprout was still talking breathlessly, as if trying to ask anything to keep the conversation flowing so that the women on either side of her couldn't continue bickering.
"We need to talk about what will happen when the Death Eaters attack Hogwarts," Harry said, ignoring the bad taste the sentence left in his mouth. It wasn't at all certain that the Death Eaters would come, at least any time soon, especially if things went on like this.
Voldemort's people attacked, killing people and starting fires all over their world. The Order and the Aurors hurried there to put out the fires and then bury the dead. As long as it was as simple as that, Voldemort wouldn't have any reason to risk all he had on a full blown attack.
Sitting back, Harry gestured at people to talk about the situation amongst themselves, encouraging them to voice any and all ideas they had. It wouldn't change most of the plans they had already made, but maybe someone would say something they hadn't thought about yet.
He tuned out the buzz of people all talking at the same time, knowing that it would be a waste of energy trying to concentrate on everything that was said now. Some of the ideas would be undoubtedly ridiculous.
But there would be good ideas, solid plans, and most of all, enthusiasm to face the enemy.
Harry didn't know if he could really feel good about it. He knew the realities better than most people in this room.
They had already beaten Voldemort in a way; they'd robbed him of his dream victory. Harry had known that the morning after his birthday, when he had been alive and well and definitely not bound somewhere in the cellars of the Malfoy Mansion waiting to be executed.
Yet they still had a long way to go, especially if their plans failed and there would indeed be no great battle where Voldemort would bring his followers to meet the army following Fawkes' banner.
It was a gloomy thought, one that Harry had always tried to banish before. The mere idea of having to fight in small skirmishes for decades was enough to ruin his day, but he couldn't just ignore the fact that it might actually come true.
Why would Voldemort risk a battle when they were so equal in strength and he had nothing to really worry about? Both sides had a solid leader and people willing to fight. Of course they also had mindless fanatics -- Harry only had to look at where Moody and his fellow Aurors sat to remember that. They had people with courage and skills; excellent in Potions and Charms, but so did Voldemort. Old seasoned wizards and those who had just recently left school, ones who would probably tuck tail and run.
Those who would fight till the end.
Harry swallowed. Yes, there would be deaths, people he knew, people who were even now here in this room with him. Voldemort's people did have one thing they didn't; they had the Dark Magic and the willingness to use the Unforgivables. They had been trained to kill, unlike his people.
It was obvious the old school Aurors could kill. Some of the teachers might resort to the ultimate violence as well, especially if they were protecting the school and former students. Harry knew that there were others, like the Weasleys, who had already lost too much to simply settle with ordinary charms.
But the truth was, most of the others would try to fight an honest fight, no matter how hard they'd tried to teach everyone to survive, and that would be the reason they lost.
Trying to shrug off the uncomfortable emotion, Harry tried to think about the qualities they had and Voldemort's didn't. He was stunned by how hard it was to think of anything that would be of use.
Honesty and reason and sanity were great qualities, but wouldn't help them in a fight. Not when the enemy were going to cheat and use madness against them.
At least people seemed to be eager to form a plan, the noise level still rising in the room. Such a far cry from those early meetings where everyone sat quiet and waited for the orders or then milled around, trying to look like they weren't absolutely terrified by all this.
There was Snape muttering quietly with Draco and Blaise, both younger Slytherins listening avidly, Blaise nodding every once in a while. Remus and Hermione were clearly having some ideas, both leaning closer to each other and muttering quietly while Sirius watched them with a benign expression on his face. Some of the Hogwarts staff were arguing about something, with Hooch and Figg staring at each other angrily.
Harry decided not to ask what that was all about.
He could see Ron frown where he was sitting next to Hermione and clearly finding some flaw in whatever she was saying. The expression was familiar, usually accompanied by a very clever move on the chess board.
That had been a surprise, one Harry wouldn't share with his friend. Ron could actually see both the big picture and the finer details if he concentrated on them instead of being pig headed about something else. The strategies Remus was now scribbling down on a piece of parchment weren't unlike ones used in wizarding chess.
Still not saying a word, Harry kept looking around the small room. Everyone was talking out loud, some of the younger members of the Order were also gesturing with their hands. There were some good ideas, coming unavoidably from the few Muggleborn, who had broader horizon than the ones raised in the wizarding world. Harry understood the strategic value of a surprise. Fighting with Muggle strategies would certainly be that.
But it wasn't enough.
Harry looked away from Ron, resting his gaze on Draco Malfoy for a moment, still amazed to see the calm expression on his face. He saw Dumbledore and McGonagall whisper to each other, saw acceptance in the eyes of Arthur Weasley as he listened to a younger witch, whose eyes shone with zeal and innocence.
Wherever he looked, he could see good people, dedicated people. But that wasn't going to be enough if they didn't make sure they were all going to be able to deal with their plans.
In a short while, the small discussions exhausted around the table, and everyone turned back to stare at Harry. For once, he didn't mind the expectant looks; there were plans, old plans that had existed for some time now, and it was about time for them to finally discuss them and then continue training so that they could actually do what they had planned.
"All right then. We need to make sure everyone knows what to do in battle. We shouldn't let Voldemort's people inside Hogwarts, but they can do enough damage from the outside. There's a lot to cover; the lake, the Forbidden Forest, the grounds..." Harry waited for his words to sink in.
The horror so evident on the faces of most of the professors were the truest indicator that this was indeed their worst nightmare.
Harry didn't give them time to really panic. "Let's start from the beginning. Albus. What will you do if the Dark Lord invades the school grounds?"
Everyone turned to the Headmaster.
There was a fierce glint in Dumbledore's eyes. "I will stay at the courtyard and guard Hogwarts. That is my task. I do believe the house elves are more than happy to help me with it." His smile was knowing.
"Yes, the house elves will help, as will the ghosts." Not bothering to acknowledge the curious looks everyone cast at her at the comment, McGonagall added, "I will stay as well." She looked at Dumbledore as if there would be objections.
Dumbledore stared at her for a moment before nodding slightly. "I would be most delighted to have you there by my side."
Harry refused to let his control slip and roll his eyes like Snape had a moment ago. He was rather proud of that. "Good. What about the rest of us?"
It was easy from then on. People seemed to realize the importance of team work, and in no time, there were basic teams set to guard over all the important places surrounding Hogwarts. There would have to be more, small teams going to deal with Voldemort's operations elsewhere, but this was not the time to discuss that. This was also not the group of people that needed to be involved in that conversation; secrecy had become a second nature to Harry, but he could see so clearly how it was the only way in a situation like this.
He had already known that Dumbledore would not leave the school and that as the deputy Headmistress, McGonagall would stay as well, guarding Hogwarts till the end. If Hagrid came back in time, he and others would cover the grounds where his hut had stood, if not, that would be the job for some of the younger Aurors. Those with more experience like Bill Weasley and Moody and the rest of the survivors from the first Voldemort war would lead others.
"And what will you do, Harry?" Eyes gleaming with excitement, Ron turned to look at his friend.
Harry smiled at him. "What I do best."
There was a confused silence that was broken by Draco Malfoy's soft, "We're going to play Quidditch?"
A few younger Aurors snorted with laughter at that, casting disbelieving looks at the Slytherin who was suggesting something as stupid as Quidditch at the moment like this.
Harry on the other hand smiled even wider. "Yeah. We're going to play Quidditch." Considering his skills, it was either flying or then challenging Voldemort into a chocolate eating contest. Somehow he didn't see the latter plausible, no matter how insane the Dark Lord was.
After a moment of disbelieving shock, realization dawned on some faces. Harry could see it on George's face a moment before Charlie caught on and let a satisfied grin bloom. Oliver Wood actually let out a gleeful little 'yes' and high fived Angelina who was sitting close by.
Harry tried to remember all the stories he'd ever heard in the locker rooms or the pitch, and with every story there were more names he could connect to the faces all around him.
It was Madam Hooch who finally said it out loud and ended the weird looks most people were casting at the former Quidditch players. "You're talking about a wizarding air force?"
"Yes. That's exactly what I'm talking about." That was absolutely the place where Harry wanted to be when it came time to act; high in the sky with a broom underneath him, a wand in his hand and people he trusted by his side.
Some of them were probably out of condition and some had left that part of their lives behind, but they could all still do it. Flying was in their blood.
George was saying something to Charlie, repeating 'WAF' so often that Harry was certain there would probably be T-shirts with that coming up next. He ignored that, concentrating on the way Charlie looked at him and nodded with gratitude plain on his face.
Harry didn't know if it was anything to be grateful for; even with a bum leg, Charlie could fly and fight. Otherwise he might have not been able to fight at all.
Such thoughts were stupid, and Harry knew it. There was no force on earth that would keep the Weasleys from the battle; they would crawl on broken glass to face the Death Eaters.
Hooch was beaming happily. "I think that's an excellent idea!"
Those she had once guided in the art of flying were nodding all around the room.
Hours and hours of training helped now. There were no silly questions or complaining; people actually managed to get into groups with designated group leaders. This wasn't about meaningless classes or training for curses most had never heard of.
Harry let his people work, content to watch them move around the room and find the team that would most likely need their expertise. He noticed that some people were gathering together in silence and nodded at Remus who was quietly standing between Sirius and Snape.
Their work would be different, but no less dangerous than standing on a battlefield facing the enemy.
"I must say you're rather good at this," came the soft words nearby.
Harry almost jumped. He turned to face Arthur Weasley who was standing next to him with a familiar look in his eyes. "Well at least now I know where Bill got the habit of sneaking up behind people... And yeah, I guess I must be."
"You're hating every moment of it, right?"
When had Mr. Weasley got so perceptive? Harry didn't know, but right now he was rather glad for it. "Yeah." He didn't even have to ask if the feeling was mutual; it was clear that Acting Minister Weasley wasn't exactly rejoicing in his new status either. "But someone has to do this."
Arthur looked around, and when he saw no one was close enough to hear his words, he muttered, "Will this do any good?"
This time the amazement showed on Harry's face, and there was a lot of respect mixed with it. "Yes. I believe that it will. I can't really tell you..." There was an apologetic shrug. "But yeah. This will make all the difference in the world."
"But there are other things as well?"
Harry agreed, "Yes, there are other things as well." Their plans were far from simple, but right now, the wizarding world had to concentrate on this.
Arthur was quiet for a moment, looking at his sons who were all gathering together and talking enthusiastically, especially Charlie, who had been rather quiet about the battles until now. "You will tell me if you need me and the Ministry to do something, won't you Harry?" He turned to Harry, seeing in the young wizard's expression that he wouldn't have to wait for it.
There was already something important he could do.
"Let's hear it then!" It was the one way Arthur could really thank this man who was the best friend of his youngest son and who was giving him and his family a chance to avenge Fred's death. "What do you need?"
Looking into Arthur Weasley's eyes, Harry sighed. It would come to this; their world had always known that one day there would be a battle raging outside Hogwarts, the school grounds filled with witches and wizards trying to kill each other and dodging those who had already fallen, the wounded and those who were dying. There had always been whispers, as if the legend of the Great Harry Potter had already been written in the minds of the people
Voldemort would come, for that was what evil Dark Lords did, and Harry Potter would stand tall and resist, for that was what heroes did, and no one ever questioned that.
"I need to talk with you about one of the warrants you made," Harry said quietly. He knew all too well that he could simply tell Arthur what he wanted to be done, but right now, he couldn't bear with another half truth.
"Yes?"
Glad of how calmly Arthur Weasley was standing there and waiting for him to explain, Harry mused out loud, "We gather here in Hogsmeade, but I think everyone sees Hogwarts as the center of our world."
"That sounds about right." Amazingly, there was an amused glint in Arthur's eyes. "We all expect Voldemort to march here. No one's talking about the battle at the Ministry or anything like that."
Harry nodded. "Yes. And everyone knows about Voldemort's main strongholds."
The amusement disappeared from Arthur's gaze in a second. "Like the Malfoy Mansion." His expression clearly stated that he would be perfectly willing to go and tear the place down stone by stone, with his bare hands if necessary.
"Yes, like the Mansion," Harry agreed. "But I can't remember ever hearing anyone saying anything about Tom Riddle's old home. Not even after you issued the warrants on his arrest; specifically on him as Tom Marvolo Riddle and not just as Lord Voldemort."
There was a short silence as Arthur stared at him with an incredulous expression on his face, amazingly looking exactly like Ron after he'd walked in on Harry touching Snape's arm. The incomprehension slowly melted, leaving steely resolve behind. "The Riddle house?"
Harry nodded again, knowing he didn't need to explain his plan further. "The Riddle house."
Part 16 It didn't take long for the rumors to spread. Like a charmed magical fire they raged over Hogsmeade within a day.
People passing by Harry's house were staring now, as if the house had grown itself ears and a tail. Of course such transformation wasn't unheard of, but this time the horrid fascination was simply because of the new inhabitant.
Snape's presence in Hogsmeade was familiar, but seeing him around all the time was clearly a shock to most of the people. To the members of the Order it was mostly a cause for some curiosity, but there were those who seemed to be almost offended by the way he was now living with their leader.
There were also the rather nasty articles in the Daily Prophet about the man.
Harry knew it was a mistake to pay any attention to the papers now, but he couldn't help wondering, especially when Sirius kept casting worried looks at him. The way Snape had simply disappeared into his new laboratory without saying a word after breakfast made him worry even more.
It was nothing new, really; rumors about Snape moving out of Hogwarts and speculations about his new home followed by pages about the First Voldemort War, accounting the well known fact that Snape had indeed been a Death Eater.
'Reliable sources' handing over quotes that would make people wild, hints about Death Eater atrocities that had never really been printed before. Columns after columns full of the abominable ways Voldemort's people disregarded all decency.
Harry hated the whole thing, mostly bothered by the repetition of the old belief that you never really stopped being a Death Eater.
Sure, people had a right -- and a good reason -- to doubt and comment on Snape's past, but ignoring the present was simply idiotic. He had been a Death Eater, but he sure as hell wasn't one anymore. Hadn't been one for a long time.
Refusing to call his actions sulking, Harry spent most of the day casting angry looks around and then retiring earlier than usual, needing some time home alone.
These days, they didn't even bother to pretend that walking around alone was an option, and Harry was glad that it was Remus' turn to babysit him. At least Remus didn't seem to have the need to say anything as he walked him home, settling with casting a few contemplating looks at him every once in a while.
Since the door leading to the cellar was firmly shut, Harry didn't go downstairs to see if he could spend time with Snape, thinking he might want some time alone as well. Instead, he spent a moment making himself some tea and then glaring at the Daily Prophet someone had left on the living room table.
He was just glad no one had been stupid enough to actually comment on anything they had printed.
Even though Harry knew it was a bad idea, he picked the paper up and browsed through it, flipping through the pages almost negligently. The stories about his own past had never intrigued him at all, but this was different; he needed to know what they were saying about Snape so that he could be prepared for any and all remarks people might make.
He set his jaw and started reading.
Disgusted after the first few lines, Harry crumpled the paper into a ball and tossed it to the other side of the room, barely resisting incinerating the whole thing.
The hell with it! He wasn't going to waste any time reading that crap.
It was the same thing over and over again, and there was nothing anyone could say that Harry hadn't heard before.
"Are they writing about Severus again?" Remus asked as he stepped fully into the room from the doorway where he'd been standing in silence and watching. He'd noticed the dark frown on Harry's face all day long, and thought this might be an excellent time for a little talk.
With Sirius in the house, it would be impossible to even try this.
"Yes. About his past." It was disgusting. Why was everyone so keen on labeling people? Most of the people in this house seemed to have a description following their name; the werewolf, the former prisoner of Azkaban, the Slytherin, the former Death eater. The Boy Who Lived. Harry was sick and tired of it.
Remus sat down on the couch. "About him being a Death Eater." This was something he'd been thinking about for a long time, almost since he'd first heard about Harry seeing Severus, but there had never been a proper time to bring it up before.
Glaring, Harry muttered, "Yes." A former Death Eater. Why couldn't people get that in their heads?
"You do know that they're simply stating a fact. It's not as if they're making things up." At least they weren't this time. Remus looked at Harry earnestly, needing to see if he'd really thought about it.
Of course Harry knew that. "I know." It wouldn't have an impact on Snape if it was simply a lie. "But they shouldn't write about it now."
In his opinion, the reporters should never write another article about Snape's past. It didn't change anything and only complicated everything.
"Maybe so, but to many, his past as a Death Eater won't change even if he does good deeds for us now."
The only reply Remus got was an infuriated glare. Harry's angry expression warned him not to go into this now.
"Have you ever really talked about it with him, Harry?" Gaze sharp, Remus stared at him. He was as stubborn as any other Gryffindor and wouldn't let go this easily.
Harry shook his head. "No. And I don't intend to." He was not about to re-open the age old wounds. Life was harsh as it was, people were judging so many things by what had happened years ago. He wasn't going to add to that.
"Maybe you should." Noticing how Harry was prepared for a retort, Remus added, "I'm not saying this to drive you away from him. I simply think that maybe you and he should talk about his past."
There was a short silence. Harry's lips were pursed into a thin line, his face reddening. Finally he nodded curtly. "Fine. I will talk to him about it. Right after I ask Sirius to tell me everything about that time when he lured Snape into the Shrieking Shack. Including what happened afterwards."
Remus' jaw fell open. He couldn't say a word, could hardly even breathe. Had Harry really said that? How could he? He loved Sirius almost as much as he did.
"I can't think of any reason for such a conversation except to really hurt him. It would destroy Sirius." Harry sounded slightly disgusted, and all of the emotion was aimed at himself. "We both know what happened. I can even guess why it happened. So there's no need to go digging into it."
Still shocked by the matter of fact way Harry had just used that as an example, Remus stammered, "But it's not the same thing!" No one had died and Sirius hadn't meant to really even hurt anyone, he'd just been young and stupid.
Harry nodded. "No it's not the same thing. But at the same time it is." He was really glad there was no possibility of Ron or Sirius barging in unnoticed; this was painful enough as it was. "I know exactly what Snape used to do. He was a Death Eater!" He let the reality of that statement wash over him, the disgust and horror clear in his eyes. "Do you honestly believe I don't know what that means?"
Even though this wasn't the first time Remus saw Harry this weary and suddenly older than he was, he could still only stare.
"The Death Eaters kill people. Muggles. Wizards. They use curses and knives and poisons and bare hands. They work alone and in groups. Torture, maim and rape before they kill. Do you think I left something out?"
"No." It was a whisper. Remus shook his head slightly, unable to meet Harry's gaze. He had been taunted and scorned for decades over his curse, but he had never felt this small before.
"There is nothing for me and Snape to talk about. I know. How the hell could I not know? I've fought against those bastards for years." Harry bit his lip as he remembered all the times he'd encountered the masked Death Eaters, all so ready and willing to take his life.
He could never forget what the Death Eaters were like, but he didn't see Snape as one of them. Death Eaters felt no guilt or remorse and they exalted in every sick perversion their master told them to indulge in. The fact that Snape didn't flaunt his pain didn't mean he didn't feel it.
"Harry..." Remus swallowed. "I..."
Harry didn't let go. "Do you really think I should ask him about his past? Tear all that open and for what? To prove to you that I do know what I'm doing? To somehow feel better when I hear him tell me that he wasn't one of the nicer Death Eaters who just bowed down to Voldemort and then went to bed when all the others stayed and had an orgy?"
He snapped his mouth shut before he could say anything more. Snape wouldn't want anyone else to know about the nightmares or the scars. He probably preferred thinking Harry hadn't noticed them either, or that he hadn't made some educated guesses about their origin.
"Do you think he would say that?" There was something in Harry's voice Remus didn't recognize, and he couldn't help wondering if he was somehow lying to himself after all.
A chuckle escaped Harry before he could shake his head. "No. Snape would never lie to me. He would tell the truth, no matter how horrible or painful. He wouldn't lie." Of that he was certain. Snape would not tell him simply what he wanted to hear, he would be brutally honest.
Remus was shocked once again. "And you honestly don't want to ask Snape if he never..."
"If he never what?" This wasn't what Harry wanted. He didn't want to be angry at Remus or anyone he loved, but he could feel the anger tingle through his body. "If he never what, Remus?"
"If he never really enjoyed it."
The silence was deafening. Harry stared at Remus, feeling all anger drain away from him. He wanted to let go and sit down on the floor, but couldn't. All he could think of were the words.
Enjoy it? He wanted to say no, scream it out so loud the windows shook with the force of his voice. But he couldn't. Because deep inside he knew that it was possible that Snape had.
It was a rush; the power that coursed through you when you cast the Avada Kedavra was horrifying. Maybe it was why it was so unforgivable. It was not the only curse that would kill, but it was the one that could make killing enjoyable.
"Have you ever used the killing curse on anyone?" Harry was certain Remus hadn't, and the slight shake of head confirmed it easily. He already knew Sirius hadn't. The one time he had killed had not been by using magic.
Instead of saying anything about how addictive the rush of power could become, he said quietly, "I don't have to ask Snape if he ever enjoyed killing or torturing innocents."
He didn't say anything about the sex, even though he couldn't help thinking about it for just a moment, knowing all too well that even impersonal fucking could sometimes be a relief, at least physically. Sleeping through the ranks of Death Eaters was probably just like Harry's sleeping with his schoolmates when any warm bed was enough for the night; something that had happened and wouldn't need to be discussed. Ever.
Especially with the memory of Snape's rage towards the mere comment about sexual violence, that had been more telling than any words could possibly be.
"Because I already know." Harry stared at Remus, his voice steady. "I know that while being sober and not under any mind altering charm, he's never truly enjoyed what he did as a Death Eater."
"How can you be certain of that?"
Both Harry and Remus turned to stare at the doorway in horror.
Snape looked even paler than he usually did, his arms crossed across his chest as if he was cradling himself. His eyes showed nothing of what he was thinking.
Cursing himself quietly, Harry wondered what had made him forget that the firmly closed door leading to the cellar and the faint smell of burning herbs in the air meant that Snape was indeed in the house, brewing.
"I... I know," Harry said, knowing it wouldn't be enough by the slight sneer that his words caused. "If you had, you would never have left them."
That made Snape nod. "Correct." He was pleased -- not to mention astonished -- by the logic Harry was showing instead of using intuition or that good old Gryffindor trust. "With one exception, of course." This time the trusting gleam in Harry's gaze didn't even manage to irritate him. It was somehow warming. How disgusting! "I did enjoy working with potions. The laboratory in the Malfoy Mansion was considerably better stocked than my... Than the one in Hogwarts."
He chose not to say anything about the unpleasant atmosphere or the poor ventilation system. They hadn't been enough to ruin the experience.
Especially when he had been working on potions he'd never even dreamed of brewing, both the ones considered too malevolent and simply too difficult for someone his age.
Harry smiled slightly at that. He should have expected Snape to be meticulously honest. "I can imagine." Young Snape being all ecstatic to be able to work with things he'd only read of, showing off his skills to the others.
Ignoring the smile, Snape looked at Remus. "Anything else you want to know, Lupin?" His tone indicated there had better not be any more questions.
"No." It had been a foolish thing to expect of Harry in the first place. Remus had known that the moment Harry had mentioned the Shrieking Shack. Thinking about the nasty things other people did was always easier than to focus on what truly awful things your loved ones had done. He should have remembered that.
Snape seemed to settle for that. Without any words, he turned around and walked away. A few moments later his footsteps could be heard in the staircase leading upstairs.
"I..." Seeing that Harry was about to follow Snape, Remus stammered, "I'm sorry." His concern had been genuine, but he had clearly put his nose into a matter that didn't really concern him.
"Don't be." Harry knew that Remus hadn't said any of the things out of malice. "It's all right."
That wasn't good enough. Remus shook his head. "No, it's not. I was out of line. Please convey my apologies to Severus as well." He hoped he hadn't destroyed anything that Harry held dear, honest enough to admit to himself that his questions hadn't stemmed from worry alone.
Harry stopped, casting a piercing look at Remus at the sound of genuine guilt behind his words. He wondered if Remus could really hear it himself, as if the echo of something he'd once said was still there to be heard even after decades from that night Sirius' prank had gone too far.
He didn't know. It wasn't his place to ask.
Nodding slightly, he turned and hurried upstairs.
As Harry stepped into his room, he looked warily around him, half expecting to see Snape's trunk packed already. The scene downstairs had been completely unpleasant, and he wouldn't have been surprised to see Snape try to run away from this house.
It was a relief to see the man standing by the window.
"Are you all right?" He could read the tension in Snape's body. "I'm sorry about what you had to hear, and Remus sent his apologies as well."
Snape didn't acknowledge the apologies in any way. "Mr. Potter..."
"No!" This was beyond the worst possibility Harry had allowed himself to consider. "Don't do this, Snape." There was only one reason why the man would address him like that, and Harry knew he wasn't going to like what came out next.
As if he hadn't been interrupted, Snape went on, "I don't believe this arrangement will work after all." With everyone's eyes on him once again and with even someone like Remus Lupin questioning him, there was no other option. He couldn't stay here.
"If this won't work, we'll think of something else. Move somewhere." Keeping his voice level, Harry refused to look away. He'd fight for this if he had to, with Sirius and Ron and Remus, even with Snape himself. He wasn't going to let go. "I want to live with you."
Snape snorted. "Don't be stupid. You have a big house with people you undoubtedly call a family." There was no real scorn in his voice. He knew this was one of the subjects that would lead to real pain, so he toned down the sarcasm. "Are you honestly suggesting you'd leave all that behind to..."
He wasn't sure how to put it. To be with him? To have someone to hold? Something undoubtedly Gryffindor anyway.
Images of the cottage assaulted Harry. He wondered what it would be like to live somewhere alone with Snape, dealing with all the small everyday things together, calling the place home and falling asleep next to him in their bed every evening. It sounded wonderful.
Even with this new insight, he still sounded surprised as he said, "Yes."
Snape had expected there to be a silence, or maybe a very awkward silence followed by another foray into sexual acrobatics. Having Harry grab his wand and cast a cruciatus wouldn't have been as shocking as this soft admission.
Somehow the torture of the curse would have been easier to bear than the hollow feeling brought by Harry's insane belief in him.
"You do know that everything Lupin said was true." There was no sign of life in Snape's eyes.
"Yeah." Harry nodded. His voice was quiet as he added, "I've seen it all in my nightmares." Whatever the connection between him and Voldemort was now, it had once been strong enough to show him at least the shadow of what he and his Death Eaters did.
He didn't know how anyone could hide from the truth. The Death Eaters were monsters; not the kinds of you read about in a book, but the reality behind every fantasy villain. They weren't men reduced to their baser needs like those bitten by a werewolf, they weren't the undead. They were simply men.
Snape squeezed his hand into a fist so hard he half feared his fingers would crack from the pressure. "I never have nightmares." He could tell by the flash he saw in Harry's eyes that he was going to protest and raised his other hand to still any foolish words. "I only have memories."
Looking into Harry's eyes, he wondered if he would ever understand everything behind his simple words, and then almost choked as he realized he didn't need to explain anything to him. Harry did know, he did understand perfectly, and he still wanted him to stay.
He shook his head. "No."
Harry managed not to curse out loud. Just how many times would they have to go through this? "I already told you once I want to live with you. If you choose not to believe me, I think I'll just have to tell you again. Until you do believe me."
"You can't possibly mean that." It was unbelievable, because Harry sounded so earnest, his words echoing once again with the notion of sharing everything with him.
"Of course I mean it! I want to live with you." Harry was beginning to realize this was going to get really tedious fast.
Snape simply stared.
"You once said you don't want to hear me beg." Harry kept his gaze on Snape's, refusing to back off. "But I'm getting really close to the point now. Please."
The simple words seemed to be more effective than anything. "Stop that!"
"I'll stop when you stop fighting me about this! I want to live with you, no matter what the others say, no matter what you did when you were younger."
Snape let out a disbelieving snort.
Not even that could make Harry really mad. "Do you really believe I'm just saying that? Come on, Snape! If it's about staying here, we can move. I mean it."
That was the point. Snape couldn't fathom what would drive Harry to even contemplate such a thing.
"Becoming dependant on someone is not healthy, Potter. When you start thinking that a person is the most important thing in your world, you'll lose yourself. If you don't believe me," now there was a glare, "ask Remus Lupin. I'm certain he'll be happy to tell you how much he enjoyed his life alone without..." There was a definite pause full of all the unsaid nasty comments before Snape settled with, "Your godfather."
Harry let out a suffering sigh. Was Snape being intentionally dense or was this just something he honestly didn't understand? He was beginning to wonder if it was the latter.
"I'm not talking about a biological imperative like the werewolf mating habits. I'm not trying to force you into anything. All I'm saying is that I like living with you. It's nice to..." How to explain it? Especially since he wasn't completely sure what he meant. After a long silence, he finished the sentence lamely, "You know. Be with you."
Snape shook his head, forcing the words out before he could convince himself of their stupidity, "I do not understand that." He didn't find Harry's presence in his life unpleasant, but he honestly couldn't understand how Harry would be so insistent on making him stay.
"I know, but it's not something you can explain." Harry smiled a little. "You know, Gryffindor emotionalism and all that." He didn't know how to say it better; the way Snape seemed to balk at every emotional scene made him keep that one word unsaid. For now.
Sighing, Snape shook his head, but his body was slowly relaxing. "Oh, that." How on earth had he imagined he could ever win a logical argument with someone who didn't obviously believe in logic? "I see."
Harry asked quietly, "So will you stay with me?"
"Yes." It escaped Snape before he could swallow it down. He wanted to be angry about the whole thing, hate himself for falling so easily into the trap laid by the pleading gaze now shining with happiness, but couldn't. He was well aware that he had just agreed to much more than simply not leaving.
"Thank you."
Snape didn't want to hear Harry thanking him, the relief in the idiot's voice reminding him of desperate begging somehow.
He made a small gesture, elegant even with the helplessness showing in it, and Harry walked straight into his arms, holding him as if he was afraid he would still want to run away from him. He didn't want to talk, didn't want to do anything but simply stand here and feel Harry against him.
It was somehow better than anything, and if a hint of the rage and fear Lupin's words had caused still lingered, he ignored it, concentrating on the way Harry's hands moved down his back and how his lips were moving up his throat, nibbling and kissing and whispering something so softly he almost couldn't hear what he was saying.
The almost reverent whisper of his name was familiar, as were the touches and the smell of Harry's shampoo tickling his nose. Snape leaned his head to the side, a graceful gesture devoid of submission, simply a way to give Harry more access, and the whispers turned into an almost suffocated sob.
"Mine!"
Snape froze at that, ignoring the way the sound was frighteningly similar to a feral beast's and concentrated on the word that could still make him shiver with utter terror.
He slowly pushed Harry away. "I am not anyone's property, Potter."
Harry blinked at the icy cold tone, rather shocked as he realized he had actually said it out loud. "No, you're not." He reached out for Snape again, letting his hand drop at the look on Snape's face.
"Even if I stay with you," Snape said, noticing the way Harry flinched as he stressed the 'if', "I do not belong to you."
The concept had always filled him with defiance, even when he had voluntarily held out his arm and entered in a servitude worse than any slavery. He was his own master now, and would never bow down to anyone, no matter what delusions they might have.
He expected to see anger in Harry's eyes, so the sadness so evident in the green gaze was just as surprising as the quiet apology.
"I'm sorry."
Harry even sounded like he meant it.
"I don't mean you belong to me," Harry added. "I... want you to belong here with me."
Covering the slight shock and the underlying panic well, Snape nodded, as if the words actually meant something to him. Standing still, he allowed Harry to reach out and touch him again, but he was unable to melt into the caresses, feeling the nervous tension in Harry's body as well.
He didn't know what it meant when Harry didn't even try to hide the awkwardness in his kisses. There were no other words, and Harry's lips were almost hesitant on his skin, touching softly, gently. Staring at the wall on the other side of the room, Snape tried to figure out what it meant, knowing that if he simply let this happen, they would fall into bed and shag and there would still be a hint of doubt somewhere deep inside of him, gnawing at him until it became impossible to ignore.
There was a soft kiss on his throat, and then Harry's teeth nipped at his skin, sucking softly but strong enough to leave a mark.
It was the gentlest marking Snape had ever experienced.
Before he could comment on it, Harry whispered, "I'm sorry I seem possessive. I don't mean it the way you think... I don't want to own you. But I want you to be... Mine."
That was utter nonsense, but Snape wasn't surprised. "You're contradicting your own words." That wasn't a surprise either.
"I know." Harry's lips against his skin formed a trembling smile. "You could accept it as one of the things."
Snape sighed. The elusiveness of all the things between them was already annoying him, and he didn't like feeling that Harry could neatly hide all sorts of unpleasantries behind the notion of things. "That makes absolutely no sense."
He was already willing to share so many things with Potter, even enjoying most of them. This blatant show of ownership was wrong, simply showing him how foolish he was to let his shields down and allow someone to take a hold on him.
Harry stepped back, looking him straight in the eyes. "It makes perfect sense to me." Leaning in, he planted a chaste kiss on Snape's lips, and whispered softly, "Mine."
"Yours?" Feeling his spine stiffen, Snape raised his hands and wrapped his arms around his chest again, neatly blocking Harry's access to his body. He glared at Harry, his voice full of scorn. "Yours?"
"Yes."
"Idiot!" Snape didn't think he could tolerate such utter stupidity from anyone, and the fact that he was simply standing here and not either storming out or hexing Harry was probably the evidence of his superb self control.
"Yes." Nodding slightly, Harry kept his gaze on Snape's, forcing himself not to touch him. "But I'm your idiot."
It dawned on Snape that this had nothing to do with ownership after all. Harry's idiotic words weren't a prelude to a violent claiming of someone's body or an attempt to ensnare their whole being, mind and soul.
When the realization finally hit, he moved without a thought, grasping Harry's shoulders in an almost bruising grip and instead of shoving him even farther away, he simply spun around with him and pressed him against the wall.
He could see worry in Harry's eyes, but there was no trace of real fear or terror. Those intense emotions had disappeared a while back, right after he had said he would stay, and though Snape was slowly starting to accept what it really meant, the thought still filled him with awe.
"I may yet die out of shock, but I do believe you're absolutely right." Snape confirmed the words with a glare and then slowly leaned in to claim Harry's lips with his own. "Exactly what I've always wanted." The sarcasm in his voice made him feel more secure about this. "My own idiot."
Harry arched into his touch.
"Not a very subtle idiot, but an idiot nevertheless." It still didn't make much sense, but Snape never expected that from a Gryffindor anyway. It was somehow enough to hear the foolish notion of belonging and accept it as a part of whatever they shared when it was clear that Harry's words had nothing to do with domination and control.
Things became a blur after that, with Harry trying to pull Snape's robes off while Snape tried to move them across the room to the bed. There was black cloth everywhere, trailing a path from the window, and the bedsprings complained loudly as Snape managed to finally land them both on the bed, half naked.
Harry insisted on kissing every bit of skin he revealed, and Snape let him, holding onto the sheets as Harry slithered down his body.
Content on letting Harry remove his clothing, Snape watched the expression of delight spread to Harry's face as he finally managed to get him naked. He didn't reciprocate, but simply said, "Take off your clothes," making Harry fluster and then scramble out of his trousers.
Their movements were almost frantic, uncoordinated. Snape enjoyed every single groan Harry let out, recognizing his name between the incomprehensible sounds of pleasure, and would have been content with anything.
"Inside me!" Harry growled, and it wasn't a plea but a command. "Now!"
Snape had the familiar jar open before he even registered the words. The way Harry was spreading his legs and pulling him closer was eloquent enough.
Harry's mouth was open, his breath coming in harsh grasps as Snape entered him. He needed this, needed to feel Snape as close to him as possibly and know that he was not going away. The touches and the kisses and Snape's gaze on him were more assuring than any words he could think of right now.
Wrapping his legs tighter around Snape's back, Harry urged him on, knowing he couldn't last much longer.
The moment seemed to stretch on forever, the almost painful pleasure throbbing through him, seeking for a release that was just beyond his grasp. Harry squeezed Snape's arms harder, his hand slipping on the sweat slick skin, and buried his face in Snape's neck.
But it wasn't before Snape saw the hunger and the desperation on Harry's face, and maybe it was lunacy to drag it out in the open again, but Snape had to know. It wasn't about Harry and his motives anymore, it was about that place inside that had almost reveled in the thought of being wanted like that, wanted for himself and not for being useful.
"Say it!"
Moving so fast he almost hit his nose on Snape's chin, Harry looked up. For a fraction of a second he searched the black gaze for something, and then growled out, "Mine!"
Snape slammed into him as a response, making him howl the word out again. Holding onto Snape with cramping fingers, Harry gasped it out over and over again as his whole world narrowed down to this one glorious moment, his body straining against Snape's.
The dark gaze never moved away from his. Snape kept staring at him even as he shuddered and then went boneless on top of him.
Harry smiled a completely happy smile, knowing that even the exasperated look and the snort wouldn't be enough to lessen it. If anything, they just made him feel warmer inside.
He'd never dared to ask for anything special, knowing that things never went the way he wished, but right now, right here, he had everything he could ever want. He had a feeling that they wouldn't have to talk about emotional attachments again, his message finally loud and clear and spelled out in a way that even a stubborn Slytherin would understand it.
Letting out a sigh, Snape leaned back against the pillows. He knew that even though it was too early to actually retire for the evening, sooner or later Harry would do his leech imitation again.
He simply pulled Harry against him.
He could feel Harry make a content little sound, still shocked by the way he could make this young idiot happy. Pulling the covers up, he cocooned them both into a warm shelter.
Harry made another one of those satisfied sounds deep in his throat and lay his head on Snape's shoulder.
There was a moment of silence, not enough to lull Harry into a drowsy stupor, but almost. His eyelids were drooping slightly, and he snuggled closer to Snape, wondering if he could ever feel better than this.
Probably not.
Snape's hand came to rest on his chest, a casual caress that made him snuggle even closer.
"Idiot." Unlike usual, it was muttered softly against his hair, the familiar word slightly slurred by a yawn.
He'd been wrong; it was possible to feel even better. Deciding not to say anything, quite certain he wouldn't be able to squeeze anything intelligent out of his throat anyway, Harry kissed Snape's shoulder. He would be perfectly happy to simply stay here in silence until they either fell asleep or decided to go downstairs for dinner.
Part 17 Snape wasn't certain he actually liked the early mornings.
He was used to them after years of waking up around dawn to get ready for classes, but he had never really thought about mornings in the context of liking them.
That was becoming a habit these days; thinking about insanities and impossibilities, or even taking them for granted. He sometimes envied Harry for the way he seemed to be able to grasp huge issues and make them sound so damn easy, as if life wasn't really as complicated as it had always seemed to him.
The rather sad truth was that he was beginning to realize he did in fact like mornings, especially those that could be started with an armful of sleepy Harry Potter, followed by a cup of hot, strong tea.
Just as he didn't exactly mind the fleeting touches that had always been a show for others; touches of ownership, of power over him.
Knowing there would be a hand touching on his shoulder as soon as Harry came downstairs, Snape settled with his cup of tea, enjoying the silence of the morning, all too well aware that it would not last for long.
It would be a busy day today, a fact that he didn't really wish to contemplate right now when there were still hours and hours before the full moon would rise above Hogsmeade. He was simply going to deal with the things as they came, starting with the Wolfsbane that was already slowly brewing in the cellar.
Not allowing any of his inner turmoil show on his face, he grabbed his tea and then pointedly ignored the first Gryffindor -- that being Weasley -- barging into the kitchen. He was sure the boy would be glad if he didn't force him to use any of his limited vocabulary so early in the morning, simply nodding at the monosyllabic grunt that escaped the redhead before he headed to the far side of the table.
This was so familiar by now that the tension in the room was rather low, with Weasley hiding behind the Daily Prophet, devouring his breakfast and drinking the overly sweetened sludge he undoubtedly called tea. Snape still expected there to be awkward looks or some stammering comments, but Weasley didn't offer him any.
At least the boy was honest with his discomfort.
Sooner or later others would arrive, with Granger usually smiling even as she laid her eyes on Snape and Lupin and Black following closely after her as if they really had to operate as one unit even inside their own home.
Snape had to wonder if it was a precaution; if Lupin felt it necessary to actually stay close by the mutt so that there would be no off chance of an argument between them. Such a waste of time. No matter how Snape might want to see how many comments would drive Black to do something drastic, he had promised Harry not to goad the man into a real fight.
Today, Snape didn't even look up from his cup after the first glance at the Gryffindor duo. He had nothing to say to Lupin.
He could almost feel Black's insane gaze focus on him, as if the man was just waiting for him to start berating Lupin again. He could wait for that as long as he wanted, Snape was definitely not going to waste his time on things he had already commented on dozens of times during the years.
They had agreed not to address the past again, and a part of Snape agreed fully on that. But he was not going to forget the things that had happened, unable to really let go, never mind forgive.
He could tell that no one in the room really believed he wasn't going to throw a tantrum, his lips curling into a slight sneer as he thought of how satisfying it would be to smash things or say a few scathing words about the stupidity so evident on some people, all present company included.
Yet it was almost as satisfying to sit here and let them worry.
When the door creaked open, he didn't even need to look up to know that Harry had just stepped into the room. The tension spiked before slowly dissipating, the Gryffindors greeting Harry with obvious enthusiasm, young Malfoy nodding and calling out Harry's name as if it was some sort of a private joke between those two.
A hand brushed against Snape's back, the touch brief but certain, and this time Snape did look up to see the goofy smile on Harry's face. Once again he could tell with absolute certainty that from this idiot, the touch was just as it seemed, and not a not so subtle show of superiority in front of others.
"Morning, Snape."
"Good morning, Potter," Snape said quietly, reaching out for the teapot. "Tea?" He could once again feel Black's gaze on him.
Harry sat on his customary place next to him and nodded. "Yeah, thanks."
Pouring the tea, Snape already looked for the plate full of sausages, knowing Harry would probably ask for them next.
It made him think about liking things again, and making sure Harry actually ate breakfast was definitely on the list. He knew such thoughts were more dangerous than any, but there seemed to be no way of stopping them. At least liking was something he could clearly define, a personal preference he chose out of free will, unlike things that simply seemed to happen whether he really thought about them or not.
He could hear a saucer rattle on the other side of the table as Weasley set his cup down, and knew that there was probably that gawking expression on the boy's face again. No surprise there, and he could bet that Weasley wasn't the only one watching.
Snape refused to look around the table to actually confirm that.
Some evenings, he caught Black staring at him and Harry like he wasn't fervently thinking Avada Kedavra at him and was instead trying to figure out something he was unable to grasp. Snape never showed he actually noticed the stares, just like he pretended not to hear anything the mutt was saying to Lupin when he thought there was no one around to hear his raving.
Years of sneaking in the shadows made it impossible for Snape to trust any given situation, much less a person, suspicion keeping him alive. But even in the middle of all the looks and the rants, Black seemed to be honest in both his hate towards him and his devotion towards Harry.
Harry did seem to bring forth such emotions in people, just like it seemed impossible for most people not to at least resent Snape. It was almost satisfying to have that one constant thing in his life, Snape noted, though he knew all too well that Harry didn't share his view on the matter.
He was simply content to be left in peace. Delusions of fortune and glory were long gone, and his priorities were changed; the things that he had now were enough. He had his own laboratory, where he could brew what was necessary as well as things he genuinely enjoyed. There was the fight against Voldemort, real action he could take alongside others to stop the madman. He had his own personal idiot, who seemed to insist on sharing things beyond simple physical relief with him and consider it a permanent arrangement.
He couldn't even really say that he hated living in a house full of Gryffindors, living with a possessive idiot whose eyes shone every damn time he looked at him. No matter how ridiculous the arguments amongst the people in this house got, or how he tried to find any reason not to trust Harry, he simply could not hate any part of his life right now.
It was absolutely infuriating.
He finished his breakfast in silence, barely listening to the endless bantering between Lupin and Black that was somewhat strained this morning. Thinking about the reason for such tension drove his appetite away.
"Are you coming to the Headquarters today?" Harry asked as he saw Snape push his plate away.
"There are things I have to work on in my laboratory," Snape muttered, his grasp around the cup tightening a bit as he didn't turn to look at Lupin. They both knew why he would spend the day brewing, and considering the sorrowful way Lupin had been staring at him for days now, Snape wanted nothing less than to actually talk to the werewolf.
Harry kept his voice quiet as he said, "Okay. I'll see you this evening then." He made it somehow sound as if everything was quite normal.
No matter how he tried not to, Snape couldn't help feeling grateful for that. He put his tea cup on the saucer so hard it rattled the spoon, and then pushed back his chair, leaving the room with his robes billowing ominously.
They could hear the door down the hall slam shut after him.
Even Sirius didn't say anything to that.
Remus leaned closer to Harry, muttering quietly, "I don't think I need to tell you that tonight will be hard on Severus." Seeing the nod, he added, "Sirius isn't happy about it, but he will make sure the wards on our door hold."
"I know." It was clear that Sirius was still feeling guilty. He would never do anything to make Snape feel more comfortable, but he'd rather chew off a limb than to hurt Remus again. Harry knew that.
"We'll cast a silencing charm too, so that everyone can sleep." Now there was a smile on Remus' face. He could still remember hearing his own howling echo in the small room the last full moon.
Harry nodded at that, not bothering to say that he would cast wards and charms upstairs as well. It wasn't that he didn't trust Remus. He was simply going to do everything in his power to make Snape feel safe.
In the end, only Ron and Draco accompanied Harry to the Headquarters. Hermione opted to stay home, casting meaningful looks at both Sirius and Remus.
Harry hoped her presence would somehow lessen the tension. He doubted Snape would surface from his work even for lunch, but at least now he wasn't left alone in the house with people he loathed.
The day was tedious, full of small meetings that didn't seem to accomplish anything. Harry wasn't the only one who was feeling edgy; most of the former Quidditch players milled around the meeting hall, looking anxious to start doing things.
Ron didn't know why they weren't doing things already, but Harry probably had a good reason for sitting on his hands and waiting. For a moment he wondered if he should ask and if Harry would actually tell him if he did ask, but it didn't seem like the right moment.
He simply decided to act normal, even though it wasn't really easy to decipher what was 'normal' these days. Today, he decided, normal was even weirder than usual. People seemed to know that something was going on, but those who didn't know what it was were smart enough not to ask questions, and those who clearly did know, chose not to say anything.
It was kind of like that back home, with the nervous silence almost suffocating. Ron was a bit surprised to see that Snape was still locked in his lab, not attending to dinner, but he wasn't complaining. Things looked bad enough without the git, with Remus casting furtive looks at the window and Sirius casting furtive looks at Remus.
Ron was relieved when Eppy finally came to collect the dishes, signaling that it was all right to get up and leave. No one said anything when Sirius walked Remus to their room without saying anything, the door slamming shut after them almost drowning out the sound of the lock being turned.
Almost immediately after that, there was the sound of footsteps and then Snape appeared from the cellar, looking tense and more annoyed than usually.
He refused to look at anyone, heading straight upstairs.
It was clear that Harry wanted to follow him, but for some reason he just stood there undecided for a moment before walking into the living room. He didn't even notice Ron following him until Ron sat on the chair opposite to his.
Then he only looked up, looking tired and didn't even try to squeeze a smile on his face.
"Trouble in paradise?" Ron's voice was flippant. He'd seen Harry moody after meetings, but had never seen him like this. Maybe some good natured ribbing would make him feel better, even if making jokes about his life with Snape was pretty icky.
Harry froze for a moment. Then he turned to glare at his best friend, his gaze as cold as ice. "Don't! Just... Don't talk about something you don't understand." With a sneer even Snape would be proud of, he got to his feet.
"Whoa! Hey, wait a minute." Stunned by the response, Ron stood up as well. "I didn't mean it like that."
The honest panic in his voice seemed to make Harry deflate somehow. He sank back into his chair, the cool mask leaving his face. "It's full moon tonight."
"Okay." Ron still didn't get it. The last time there had been a full moon, Harry had gone to Snape for Wolfsbane potion and that had been it. He didn't understand what was the big thing here. Even Hermione had been all right sleeping downstairs with a werewolf practically on the other side of the wall. It was just Remus, they trusted him. "What's the problem then?"
Harry sighed. "Remember when Snape tried to keep us safe from Remus that night..." He didn't know how to really call it; the night everything had gone wrong, when he had almost died, when Sirius and Buckbeak had almost died.
Seeing Ron nod, he still didn't go on, his mind still caught up in the memory. He had never really thought about what Snape had done that night. It didn't matter if he'd frozen or if he'd actually planned on acting the way he had, he had still stood between them and the werewolf, protecting the Gryffindor trio.
"That wasn't the first time he saw a werewolf." What a simple way to describe the one truly incomprehensible act he knew Sirius had done. "Remember what Remus told us? That Sirius kind of..." Almost tried to kill Snape once. Harry snapped his mouth shut, not knowing how to say it out loud.
Ron almost made a quip about Snape being afraid of werewolves. Fortunately he could read the look in Harry's eyes correctly and remained quiet. An image of Aragog the huge spider Hagrid had raised staying downstairs assaulted him and he decided that there was nothing funny in someone not being comfortable around werewolves after all. "Oh."
"Yeah."
There was really nothing Ron could say after that. Thinking about Snape being afraid was somehow wrong; as if that made the git all too human.
He decided not to concentrate on Snape and fear and simply sit here with Harry. It was still weird to think about Harry actually caring about Snape -- not to mention slightly nauseating -- but that wasn't really Ron's business. His business as Harry's friend was to be here, and it was easy to just sit here and snuggle in the chair and think of nothing.
He sat there with his friend until it became clear that Harry was ready to go to bed, walking quietly behind him upstairs and pretending he wasn't disappointed to see Malfoy's door shut for the night.
Not disappointed at all.
Harry had a moment of utter panic as he stepped into his bedroom and saw no one there. Stepping back into the hallway, he listened carefully, relaxing only when he heard the water running in the bathroom.
This gave him more time to think, even though he wasn't sure he really wanted any more time with his thoughts. He'd spent the whole day trying to figure out how tonight would go, and he was no closer to finding any answers than he was this morning.
If there even were any answers for him to find. Somehow he doubted there were.
When Snape came from the bathroom, dressed in black from neck to toe with his still wet hair glistening in the faint light, Harry went to take care of his evening routines. He spent a long time in front of the mirror, just staring at himself.
He wondered if Snape ever did the same and if he did, what did he see.
Realizing that he was procrastinating, he sighed and then walked back to the bedroom. Outside, the sunlight was still slowly disappearing, but very soon, the moon would rise and he wanted to be ready for that.
Harry glanced at Snape as he locked the door and then cast a few wards on it, but didn't say anything. He was pretty sure he didn't have to explain what he was doing.
The glare he got for his actions was murderous anyway. "I do not need to be coddled, Potter!" He continued undressing as if there was nothing in the world worrying him. "The Wolfsbane and the wards downstairs are sufficient enough."
No matter how annoyed his words sounded, there was clearly doubt in his eyes, as if he would have certainly cast those wards himself had Harry not taken care of it first.
"I know." Harry knew better than to comment further. He might get away with being emotional and possessive any other night, but it was clear no such things would be tolerated tonight.
He could never really comprehend what things had been like when Sirius and Snape had been no older than he was right now, and even if he did, it was certainly not his place to judge either of them. Sirius still carried anger and guilt with him, while Snape was definitely trying not to show an ounce of the fear lurking behind his sneer.
Getting ready to bed, he put his wand on the nightstand, already seeing Snape slide his own under his pillow.
He wanted to reassure Snape somehow, maybe telling that the only way Remus could ever get to him was through Harry, and that Sirius would do anything to prevent that. Such words would be an insult, though, and instead of making things worse with fumbling platitudes, Harry simply went to bed.
Turning the lights off, he crawled under the covers, wrapping an arm around Snape's chest and molding himself against his back. He planted a kiss on Snape's cheek before settling down. "Good night, Snape."
The answering words were quiet, but calm. "Good night."
Neither man pretended they would sleep well.
Harry kept his eyes closed even in the pitch black, straining to hear even the faintest sound of howling even though he knew that there would only be the silence. He was certain Snape was doing the same; the tense body against his was a clear sign that Snape was anticipating the worst.
Forcing him to relax even more, Harry breathed as evenly as he possibly could, trying to keep on the illusion of it being just another night. Snape wouldn't want to talk about it and any show of obvious comforting would be scoffed.
That didn't mean that Harry was going to ignore the fact that Snape was probably more terrified than he would ever show anyone. He just held Snape and pretended he was asleep until weariness won and he finally drifted off for real. Waking up, he didn't move for a long time, for once being the one who was wrapped in strong arms as Snape held onto him like a lifeline even in his sleep.
He knew the moment Snape woke up, feeling the body against him tense instantly. Wondering if he should pretend he was still asleep, Harry simply lay there, watching as Snape lifted his head a little and cast a look at the window.
Snape blinked in the brightness of the rising sun and then relaxed. Only then did he look at Harry. "Good morning, Potter." He didn't even try to hide the slight relief so evident in his expression.
"Morning, Snape," Harry muttered, and pulled Snape into a kiss.
He felt like laughing, feeling the nervous tension from the night before dissipate in the morning light. The full moon had set and everything was all right, and though he knew that Snape might take laughing the wrong way, he grinned like an idiot when Snape simply rolled on top of him with a rather malevolent glint in his eyes.
This was better than any dream. Not only had Snape stayed, he was acting like this was what he'd expected, an early morning spent driving him mad in bed. The rest of the world with meetings and breakfast and werewolves was somewhere far away and nothing existed here except Snape and him.
Since he'd been awake since dawn, Harry was a bit stunned when he realized that even with all the morning's activities, he and Snape were the first ones to be up and about. Suddenly starving, he headed towards the kitchen even as Snape took a detour in his laboratory before joining him for breakfast.
Eppy was busy pouring tea as the door opened, and she huffed a little, her ears twitching as she saw Remus Lupin enter the room. No one said anything as he walked slowly towards the table leaning heavily against Sirius' shoulder.
"Harry," Sirius nodded in passing before helping Remus to sit down.
Casting a worried look on Remus, Harry muttered, "Morning." He wasn't sure, but Remus looked more tired than hurt, unlike after some full moons when he could barely walk. "Remus?"
"Hello, Harry." Shooing Sirius away, Remus looked at Harry, a wan smile appearing on his lips.
It was enough to show Harry that everything was indeed all right. "You look well."
Letting out a weak bark of laughter, Remus shook his head. "Rough night." As if realizing his words might not go well with everyone, he reached out for Sirius' hand and then cast a faintly apologizing smile at the fourth man in the room.
Snape didn't say anything, his face devoid of any real expression. He simply handed Remus a small cup of steaming concoction he'd prepared earlier.
The tired werewolf took the cup and emptied it without words before Sirius could do more than mutter his name under his breath. There was a look of surprise on his face as the warmth from the drink coursed through him, driving most of the groggy feeling away. "Thank you, Severus."
"You're welcome." Turning back to his breakfast, Snape dismissed the gratitude curtly.
Harry smiled so hard his whole face ached.
There was a short silence as Eppy poured more tea. Sirius continued glaring at Snape, waiting for a quip or a comment, hating the fact that he was once again showing off with his damn potions, hating the faint smell of sex that had greeted him as he'd opened their door earlier this morning. Most of all hating the fact that despite the potion, Remus still looked exhausted and there was nothing he could do about it.
Clenching his jaw so hard his teeth were grinding, Sirius kept staring at Snape for a moment longer and then grabbed the newspaper from the table. He needed to do something with his hand and was choosing the lesser of the two evils.
He really should have known better.
"Merlin!" He could only stare at the front page, his hands shaking. Then he lowered the paper to gape at Harry, not wanting to believe neither what he'd just read nor the hard, knowing look in Harry's eyes. "Harry?"
"Sirius, what is it?" Already feeling stronger, Remus put his cup down and leaned closer to Sirius. "Sirius?"
Sirius shook his head, as if unable to form words. He simply held the paper up, showing the front page for everyone to see.
It was less garish than most of the headlines they'd seen recently, which wasn't surprising, for once it had nothing to do with Harry's life or former Death Eaters. The picture beneath the text wasn't moving, the black and white photograph as dead as the landscape it portrayed.
It wasn't a homestead with innocents murdered, it was the ruins of a house, with a body of a giant snake curled in front of where the door had once been.
The picture made Harry hiss from between his teeth, as if sibilant words of both shock and satisfaction wanted to escape and then coil around him like a magical serpent.
"Merlin!" Remus echoed Sirius. He couldn't believe what he was reading. "'Riddle House destroyed in the Ministry's night-time raid. Voldemort's vicious viper vanquished.'"
"You know that really sounds stupid," Harry muttered. What the hell was it with reporters anyway?
Not paying any attention to the words, Snape leaned closer in, squinting a little. "They killed Nagini?" Turning to look at Harry, he asked, "You do know what happens next, don't you?" He could already see the answer in Harry's eyes.
Sirius put the paper down with a slam. "Did you know about this, Harry? Did you know what the Ministry would do?" There was disbelief in his voice.
"Did you tell Arthur to send troops to Riddle house?" Remus couldn't keep the words in.
He didn't really need to see Harry nod to know it was true.
"Yeah, I did."
Snape looked from one Gryffindor to another, not quite grasping the reason for all the horror he could detect in his old classmates. Then he snorted. Of course; they expected Harry to be better somehow. He had to wonder what they had thought the secret Order meetings had all been about, for they certainly seemed like they had never thought of this before. "He won't simply sit back and take this. He'll think it's a personal insult and do rash things, irrational things."
"That he will do anyway. But maybe now..." Harry shrugged. It was silly superstition in a way, but he couldn't say it out loud.
He wasn't really glad about what had happened, felt no exuberance over any of it. All these months of secret plans and weeks of training had led to this, and he just wanted it to be over already.
But it was time, and soon Voldemort would have no choice; he would have to play his part in this insane spectacle, just as Harry had for years.
Snape nodded, knowing all the unsaid things and agreeing with Harry completely. "I know." Pushing the paper out of his way, he grabbed the tea pot and didn't even ask Harry if he wanted some; he poured him a cup, ignoring the way Eppy glared from the other side of the room.
Unable to think of anything to say, Remus and Sirius stared at them, both wondering just when exactly had things spun out of control.
The strange uncomfortable silence stretched as the men ate their breakfast, fading a bit as the others joined them, but never really disappearing completely.
Part 18 The air almost seemed to tingle with excitement as everyone around the Headquarters kept talking about the Ministry's raid at the Riddle House, speculating about what this would really mean.
Harry didn't comment on any of the speculations, glad that people were finally seeing the big picture on their own.
Sadly, the excitement didn't last for long. Soon, there were more reports on distant villages being pillaged, the Dark Mark shining on the nightly sky and showing that yet another family had been lost.
Flitwick put the sentiment into words. "They're killing us!"
No one in the room could argue with him, for it was the truth. No matter how they had trained and planned, the Death Eaters were still out there, destroying their world. It was slow, a homestead at the time, and such warfare could take years with the casualties including more innocent bystanders than Aurors or the members of the Order.
Sitting here, talking about strategies was beginning to make everyone frustrated.
"I don't think Voldemort wants that final battle," Bill Weasley said quietly. "And why would he? Things are going so well for him and he will accomplish everything he wants without a full attack."
There were agreeing murmurs at his words, the younger Order members looking grim. It was beginning to sound like nothing they could do would really make a difference.
Harry nodded. "A real battle could go either way. Voldemort is evil, but he isn't stupid." Which was a pity, really.
He wasn't surprised when no one suggested making the first move. Their world had always been so good at waiting, sitting still, holding its breath as the enemy marched around destroying places and people and doing nothing until they absolutely had to.
They were the good guys, so they would do what good guys did and wait.
"So... What do we do next?" Ron asked, fidgeting a little in his seat.
"Things have to change!" Frustration was evident in the small gestures Hooch made. "We can't just sit on our arses and wait!"
Titters of laughter erupted from all around the room, but when the laughter died, there were agreeing words and nods replacing the amusement. They really had to do something and everyone knew that Voldemort's people wouldn't stop until they were stopped.
When it was clear that Harry wouldn't say anything, there was a short silence followed by hesitant suggestions. Like so many times in the past, people were bouncing ideas as if this was an early Order meeting where everything was fresh and new and all kinds of things were possible.
Harry simply listened, waiting for the first person to finally realize what was really going on. He didn't want to say it first, didn't want to reduce everyone else into a pawn he would order around.
Surprisingly enough, there was talk about the Malfoy Mansion, suggestions about marching there and destroying the place coming from the Weasleys. Some people wanted to concentrate on the smuggling operation and get rid of the threat the dark creatures posed.
If only Voldemort tried to fight them in the open, or challenge Harry into a duel. That would make everything so much easier.
Near Harry, Ron was locked in a heated conversation with Malfoy. Sometimes he was so annoyed by the git, he just wanted to smack him around, but since that would probably lead to other activities better kept in the bedroom, he settled to muttering insults instead.
Draco seemed to be enjoying the argument as well, his scathing remarks asking for more angry retorts. It was almost a game now, and this time both knew exactly what they were playing.
"Stop being such damn idiots!" Hermione was tired of listening to the bickering, never really being able to escape it, not here and not at home. "If you insist on picking a fight, at least..." Her mouth fell open.
Harry closed his eyes, swallowing hard. He should have known she would be the one to see it, the one to say it out loud, and now that there was no chance to back away from this anymore, he was both relieved and terrified.
"Harry? I..." Frowning as she tried to organize her thoughts, Hermione looked at the head of the table, not really stunned when she saw the hard expression on his face. "We are going to pick a fight, right?"
Shushing each other, people turned to listen what was going on.
"The Death Eaters are scattered all around and we can't really attack their stronghold like that. But if they were all in the same place..." muttered Moody, delighted by the idea of having Death Eaters in one place so that he wouldn't have to go and search for them.
"Yes." Harry didn't have to say anything else.
Now it wasn't even about guessing, it was about having the nerve to actually say it out loud. Hermione was still staring at Harry, unable to contain her amazement. "We need to bring the fight here. To our turf, to Hogwarts."
It was the only strategy that made sense, and she knew she was right even before Harry nodded.
There was something inherently wrong with the concept of actually inviting the fight to their doorstep, but slowly people all around the room seemed to warm up to it.
Harry cast a look at Dumbledore, knowing it was indeed time. "That sounds like a plan. Then we can control the fight, as much as it can be controlled." Reversing Voldemort's plans, making him react for once.
It was almost laughable how easily people started to grasp the strategies after that, calling out things they could do, things that had already been set in motion.
Even the Weasleys had to agree that launching a major attack on the Mansion would be foolish, but then Draco Malfoy commented with a slightly annoyed voice that the Malfoy Mansion wasn't the only ancient stronghold; there were other places they could target.
"The Goyles have a castle, and the Buldstrodes have a few estates near by," Snape said.
No one was really surprised to see the two Slytherins nod at each other, but the idea of actually attacking someone's home seemed wrong to most of the people.
Of course it might send Voldemort's people to defend their homes, or more likely drive the Dark Lord to do something rash in fear of losing his troops. Strategically it was sound, but it was still distasteful.
Harry's quiet, "This is war, people. We can't always do what's nice and right in order to save thousands," settled that issue quite firmly.
It didn't wipe out the pensive expression from Draco Malfoy's face, though.
There were other things, plans that were less worrying. Arthur Weasley suggested they evacuated most of the Ministry offices and bring everyone to Hogwarts. Dumbledore mentioned Hagrid and offered to call in the reserves from Beauxbatons sooner than planned.
"So essentially we make a lot of noise and make it look like we have a plan for something big and Voldemort can't do anything but react?"
The Aurors seemed to like the idea a lot.
Moody smiled, his scarred face almost beaming. "Voldemort is paranoid about everything. He can't let this go!"
Considering Moody's need for constant vigilance, his comment was hilarious. No one laughed at him, though. Everyone was too busy nodding and agreeing with him.
It didn't take long for most of the people commit to the whole thing, and after assigning those in charge of all the operations, the room cleared of enthusiastic Order members and Aurors as they went to find their place in the whole thing.
The inner circle of the Order didn't move, neither did any of the Weasleys.
As the door closed behind Moody, Hermione said quietly. "Of course we could also make sure the Death Eaters can't move around by issuing warrants for their arrest. And maybe we could destroy Voldemort's home and kill his pet snake and see if that makes him do something stupid."
That certainly made Harry flinch, but he'd been expecting it. He'd always known Hermione wasn't stupid. "That does sound like it might goad them into a fight, yeah."
"Why?"
Flitwick leaned closer to Sprout who shushed him and kept her eyes on the two Gryffindors, her expression baffled, with awful realization slowly dawning.
Harry smiled a sad little smile. "Are you asking me why we're doing this or why we're doing it like this?"
"I get the strategy. What I don't get is all the secrecy. You've been planning this for a long time, haven't you?" Hermione's 'you' was aimed at Dumbledore as well.
"Yes, we have." Harry could see the others nod as well, both Dumbledore and McGonagall casting looks at their colleagues and Figg and Fletcher simply agreeing.
Even though Sirius and Remus hadn't attended to all the secret meetings, they were nodding as well; they had been aware of most of the plans, even though the very calm and cold way Harry was actually guiding them all in this fight came as a surprise anyway.
Harry let all pretense drop and for once didn't moderate his words as he looked at his friend. "If our great leader Harry Potter suggested we actually go and kill Death Eaters and attack their homes and told everyone that we have planned a strategy for ages when the Ministry did nothing... What would happen?"
They both knew what would have happened, and he could already see it in Hermione's eyes.
"Chaos. Or then everyone would have argued the whole thing until we got nothing done," Hermione said quietly.
"Yeah." Those would have been the easy things. "Or maybe everyone would have just followed and done exactly what I told them to do." Harry made his disgust at the prospect show on his face.
"So now it's a joint decision instead of you telling us what to do." It still didn't seem to make sense. "Why?"
Harry smiled, the twist of his lips cynical. "Absolute power corrupts. I don't want to be put in the position where everyone lets me lead and no one uses their own brain."
That seemed to satisfy Hermione, her frown slowly melting into an understanding expression. "Oh. So now we won't be trading a Dark Lord for a..."
"Yeah." Harry didn't really care what term they would invent for the monster he could so easily become.
He met Snape's gaze for just a moment.
Arthur Weasley leaned back on his chair and said, "Well I for one am glad that someone decided to make plans about vanquishing Voldemort." He looked slightly uncomfortable as if he found it strange to criticize Fudge and his organization now that the man was dead and he was leading the Ministry.
It was quite easy to agree with him, even though Hermione was still looking pensive.
"All right. Can anyone think of anything else we can do to make sure Voldemort will commit all his forces to attacking Hogwarts?" Harry asked.
Snape had been watching Black with a strange expression on his face. Seeing the mutt in his canine form from time to time these past few days had made him think about something, but he wasn't certain he should make the suggestion after all.
When no one had anything to offer, he looked at Harry, his gaze unreadable. "There is one thing that might get his attention." He hesitated for just a second. "You could start a rumor that you're trying to become an Animagus."
His words were met by a puzzled silence.
Harry swallowed hard, his expression pained, but nodded anyway. "I think that would work."
"I don't see why that would frighten Voldemort." Hermione looked from Harry to Snape, clearly needing more information. There had never been any sign that the Death Eaters would be concerned with Animagi, unless you counted Sirius and professor McGonagall.
Keeping his gaze firmly away from his godfather, Harry muttered, "Trust me, it will." This was one of the moments he actually wanted someone to take his word for it.
Of course hoping that Hermione wouldn't be curious about something was completely useless. "Why?" She looked expectant, leaning forward. "How can you tell?"
Harry felt like he was under Ministry interrogation, the questioning looks compelling him to say something just as strongly as veritaserum would. He couldn't think of anything convincing to say, figuring that his friends and family wouldn't believe any lies and he couldn't tell the truth.
"Voldemort has always feared our hero here will become a magical Animagus." Snape's cold voice cut through the silence. "Since it's extremely rare and dangerous to even attempt becoming one, he will probably believe Potter to be foolish enough to try."
Turning towards Snape, Harry felt almost boneless with relief. He should have known Snape would be able to think of something plausible. A completely ridiculous thought of actually trying something as stupid as becoming a magical Animagus flashed through his mind, followed by an insane mental image of turning into a Blast-Ended Skrewt.
"And just exactly how would you know that?" Annoyed by the whole subject, Sirius glared at Snape. He didn't like the way the git was making comments about something that important to him.
Snape didn't say anything; he simply raised an eyebrow.
The words Sirius muttered at that were not really audible, but they were all too easy to interpret anyway.
People knew by now that the issue of Snape's past wasn't something they should approach, but no one was delusional enough to forget it.
Harry smiled at Snape, his expression more gentle than amused. He'd already known Snape would keep his word, and he also knew exactly what it cost him to do so.
"Er... Harry?" Bill Weasley coughed, looking slightly embarrassed. "I wonder if..." He looked at Snape and bit his lip.
"What is it?"
Bill cleared his throat again. "Wouldn't your relationship with professor Snape also aggravate Voldemort?"
There was a startled silence.
Sprout looked at Harry, baffled. "What relationship?" Glancing at Flitwick, glad to see he was just as confused as she was, she didn't notice the tension rising in the room.
"No." Harry shook his head firmly.
Now the silence was strained, a strange mixture of embarrassment and anger.
"The relationship between Snape and I is personal," Harry said, not turning his gaze away from Bill. He didn't dare to look at Snape. "I'm not going to use that as a weapon."
"What relationship?" Sprout whispered again.
"I do believe Voldemort's people already know I have moved in with Potter," Snape stated calmly, as if it was quite normal for him to talk about his relationship with Harry. "The way they see our... personal association is not important."
Blinking, Sprout started, "I don't understand, what..."
"Oh for Merlin's sake, Pomona! You're not that thick!" McGonagall glared at her colleague.
"I... Oh. Oh!" Flustering, Sprout turned to Snape. "Oh I must apologize, Severus. I didn't realize... How silly of me!"
Snape refused to comment on that, even though his expression suggested there were plenty of things he wanted to say. Sitting ramrod straight, he waited for more questions and shocked comments, and was surprised when there were none.
"This is the one thing I refuse to discuss about in public." Relieved to see that Snape wasn't going to hex anyone, him included, Harry added, "I'm entitled to have something private, something that isn't anyone else's business, and this is it. I am not going to use my relationship with Snape as a means to an end."
It was so easy to say it out loud, the word rolling on his tongue as if it was the most natural thing ever. His relationship with Snape. Noticing that Snape hadn't seemed to find the term repulsive or offending, he finally turned to look at him.
Snape was looking at him just like he always did when he was doing something extremely Gryffindor, and the expression brought a silly smile on Harry's lips.
The soft growl escaping Sirius was drowned under hesitant mutters of congratulations.
Since it was clear that the subject was closed, no one lingered with their well wishes, except for professor McGonagall who saw it prudent to touch Snape's shoulder and smile at him before leaving the room. Arthur Weasley was whispering to his sons, clearly questioning Ron about it all and making him squirm with every question.
Harry didn't really care.
No matter how Snape had stated he didn't mind living with him, he had dreaded this, knowing that sooner or later people would find out. It was a pressure he could have lived without, but at least now there wouldn't be foolish questions within the inner circle.
He wasn't naive enough to believe it would stay between the people who were still quietly leaving the room, but the way even Sprout had nodded solemnly at his words of privacy might keep it from becoming a general discussion any time soon.
Before Harry could go to Snape, Hermione intercepted him. "We need to talk."
Even with her being just a friend, those words made Harry shiver. "Okay." He had no idea of what this was about, but considering Hermione's genuinely angry expression, this would not be fun.
"You're hiding something."
That made Harry blink. He'd half thought it was about Snape. "Huh?"
"You and Snape and Dumbledore. Don't bother to deny it, I could see it when we were talking about the Animagus thing." Hermione had been watching her friend and knew there were things he was keeping a secret. There had been occasions when she'd let him keep his silence, but this wasn't one of them. "I want you to tell me what it is."
Harry saw the determination and sighed, knowing he couldn't stop Hermione from asking questions.
Even with the room already empty, he pulled out his wand to cast a silencing charm around them. Then he gestured for Hermione to sit down, taking a chair next to her.
The sudden casting had made Hermione flinch, but now she was leaning forward, looking eager to hear what Harry had to say.
"Before I tell you, you must promise you'll never say a word about this to anyone. Not even Ron." Not that Harry didn't trust him. He just didn't want him to start acting strangely around anyone.
Hermione nodded. "I promise."
Knowing that she would keep her word no matter what, Harry sighed, "When we came from the cottage, I made Dumbledore tell me the real reason behind Voldemort's obsession in me. And my family."
That was the last thing Hermione had expected to hear. She opened her mouth to say something, but decided against it before any words came out. Instead, she nodded, encouraging him to go on.
Harry kept the explanation simple, knowing that Hermione had actually listened in the History of Magic classes and could probably give hours long lectures about the circle of the year and Wild Magic. He told her about the way Prongs could easily play the role of the King Stag, how Voldemort had fixated on the symbolism.
During his monologue, Hermione sat there in silence, listening. Her mind was already working on the matter. She had to admit that while it sounded ludicrous, it did make more sense than some of the things she'd encountered in the wizarding world.
"All right." Frowning a little, she tilted her head to the side. Obviously trying to find some kind of a flaw in Harry's logic.
The expression was familiar from school. It made Harry smile a little, reminding him of how life used to be so simple back at Hogwarts.
Hermione ignored the smile. "I understand the logic behind Voldemort's actions. It does fit rather well. Your father's Animagus form, your birthdate. There are indeed people who do believe in the Wild Magic. Did you know that they say the Forbidden Forest is one of the places it's still strong?"
"No." Harry had to admit he didn't. It was probably told in 'Hogwarts the History', so no wonder he didn't know.
"Of course not." Now there was a hint of amusement in Hermione's eyes. "Anyway, I don't understand why you have to keep it a secret. I mean, I know some people would idolize you even more because of it, but otherwise..."
How funny Harry had never even thought about that. "It's not that. Nothing that simple." He put a hand on Hermione's arm to silence her. "Do you know how my father and the others became Animagi?"
"To be with Remus when he turned into a werewolf. Before the Wolfsbane was invented." Her reply was prompt, as if she was answering to a question in the class.
Harry nodded. "Yes. When my father, Sirius and... Pettigrew found out about Remus, they tried to figure out a way to help him. They did find a way. Sirius found a way." He looked Hermione straight in the eye.
Comprehension dawned on her immediately and she closed her eyes for a moment. When she looked at him again, there was sadness in her eyes. "Becoming an Animagus was Sirius' idea, and if your father hadn't become a stag... Harry, if Sirius ever finds out it will kill him!"
"I know. That's what I told Albus and Snape. He can never know about this." Glad that she'd understood what he was after, Harry let out a relieved sigh.
No matter how weirded this whole thing made him, he could never ignore the fact that at least one person would believe it without hesitations. Sirius would not survive such a blow, whether or not the theory was ever proven right.
Hermione looked contemplative, staring into distance. When she finally spoke, her voice was full of wonder. "I'm not surprised Voldemort is so afraid of you. Do you have any idea of how much symbolism there is in your life? Things that pureblood wizards living on this island would recognize immediately. I'm not talking just about your birth and your father, but later on. Fostered by others, finding out who you are, being mentored by a wise old wizard..."
"Yeah, well at least I pulled the sword out of a hat and not the stone." Astonishingly, Harry smiled at that. "It's not that easy, Hermione. When you look back on anyone's life you can see whatever symbolism you want to see." Not that he was an expert, really, but since the press interpreted his life the way they saw fit, why not others as well?
He couldn't believe he was a mystical savior of the world. Certainly if he was, he'd be someone stronger and braver. He'd have some real secret powers that had nothing to do with being very good at flying and being able to eat more Chocolate Frogs without barfing than any other Gryffindor in a decade.
The old stories were all entertaining, but they had nothing to do with him. He was just him. Harry Potter. Nothing special, really.
"Harry... Why not simply challenge him into a duel?" Hermione had heard the suggestions for that, knowing all too well that Harry had heard them too and ignored them.
Smiling crookedly, Harry said, "Maybe if I'd challenged him years ago... unofficially, of course. But by the time I was old enough to actually stand a chance against him, or really challenge him, this had already become bigger than just him against me."
Nodding, Hermione mused, "You might want to say something about it to people, though. They're wondering about it."
"I'll think about it." It sounded like Harry was not going to say more about the subject.
"Okay." Even though she sounded a bit skeptical, Hermione dropped the matter. There was already something far more important in her mind. "Harry, does Snape know about all this? I mean about Sirius," she asked hesitantly, with a strange look in her eyes.
"Yes," Harry said. He remembered how shocked he'd been back then, begging him not to say anything about this to his godfather. "I asked him never to say anything about it."
Remembering the haughty expression Snape had used to make everyone remember about his past as a Death Eater to explain why he would know about the whole thing affecting Voldemort, Hermione smiled happily. She didn't really need to know more; if Snape was willing to do that -- and not for Sirius' sake, she could bet -- he was all right. "Okay."
Harry hadn't expected it to be this easy. "Are we cool with this?"
"Yes, Harry." Hermione nodded. "We're cool with this."
Part 19 It was a busy evening. Harry was slowly going through his plans for tomorrow, contemplating things he hadn't thought about since the last Quidditch practice he'd led ages ago.
Somehow it helped that he was thinking of it as practice, even though he didn't forget for one moment that what would come was no game. Scratching a few things down helped as well, even though he wouldn't take any notes with him to the pitch tomorrow.
Sighing, he put the parchment away. It was no real use.
They would have to do a lot of improvisation anyway; to really become an efficient squad, they needed months to practice, and Harry knew that even in the best -- or worst -- circumstances there would be no no more than a few weeks until they faced the enemy. Like most things in life, this wasn't exactly what it looked like.
He had to admit that this part of the plans were better than most. Standing on the ground and waiting sounded wrong. At least in the air he would be free to go and find the proper fight.
The thought made him sigh again.
Sirius cast him an anxious glance from the other side of the living room, worrying his lower lip between his teeth to keep silent. He hadn't seen Harry this moody in ages.
He'd kept an even closer eye on Harry lately, mostly because of Snape. He didn't really understand any of what was going on between those two, especially the fact that Harry was fond of the git. Trying to be fair, he'd listened to everything Harry had said, and after a while he'd wondered if he'd been wrong somehow and there really was a softer, nicer side to Snape.
Glaring at the man sitting on a chair not far from Harry and drinking his tea calmly, Sirius had to conclude that he'd been absolutely right all along. Snape was a cold bastard who made evil comments about things, clearly enjoying the way his words made people -- usually either Sirius himself or Ron Weasley -- splutter. He was barely civil with most of them, spent a lot of his time locked in that laboratory of his and whenever he was forced to join them here in the evenings, he just sat there like a dark judgmental specter.
After the full moon, Sirius had changed into Snuffles on purpose early in the evenings, padding softly to the stairs and sat there, focusing on the sounds and smells coming from upstairs.
He hadn't told about it to even Remus, knowing he wouldn't approve.
He had so many questions about Harry and the bastard, but listening as hard as he could, he still didn't have any real answers. Snape didn't seem to behave any differently when he was alone with Harry. He'd never heard the man laugh or use kind words and the curt comments he did hear made Snuffles growl quietly.
The real difference had been in Harry. His godson had talked a lot, though most times the only reply he got was a snort or a grunt, and he sounded mellow. His smelled different as well, Snuffles' nose twitching as his mind connected Harry's scent with happiness instead of misery.
It made no sense, and Sirius hated that. For if that greasy bastard made Harry happy, he couldn't hate him as completely as he wanted to and couldn't do anything to drive him away.
Shaking his head slightly, Sirius kept watching Snape.
"Merlin! These people are idiots!" Ron exclaimed, his voice breaking the tense silence.
Snape raised an eyebrow, muttering, "How surprising."
Ignoring the softly uttered words, Ron burst into laughter, the special edition of the Prophet shaking in his grip. "They're having a poll on what kind of an animal Harry will turn into when he becomes an Animagus!"
That certainly caught Harry's attention. "Oh?" It hadn't taken much time for the papers to start commenting on the whole thing.
"Yeah." Ron smirked." Right now the odds are on a black panther as the non magical and a unicorn as the magical Animagus." He let out a very undignified snort at that.
Even though the things the press wrote about him rarely managed to amuse him, Harry had to laugh at that. "What? Damn, that is stupid. A black panther? Here? In Scotland? Why the hell would anyone want to turn into a black panther anyway? And a unicorn?"
"I think that at least in theory, you'd have to be a virgin to become a unicorn Animagus," Draco said calmly.
Even Remus' coughing fit didn't distract Sirius from seeing the evil smirk that flashed on Snape's face.
Since the comment made Harry laugh even harder, Sirius chose only to bite his lip again.
"I think they have something about that in... Fuck." Ron dropped the paper on his lap and looked at Harry. "Um..."
The tension was back as was the silence, as Harry looked back at his friend. After a moment, he asked, "They're writing about me and..." He cast a brief look at Snape.
"Yeah." Ron nodded. He'd only read half way through the paragraph, and though it didn't exactly say it, it was quite clear to read between the lines. The snake was out of the bag. Or whatever he was supposed to be staying in before Bill had stupidly outed it. "You want to read it?"
Harry shook his head firmly. "No."
"You do know that people will talk about it. There will be other articles." Remus doubted people would be stupid enough to ask Harry about it, but it would be the talk of their world until something more interesting came along.
"I know." Twisting in his chair again, not even noticing when the parchments he'd been holding scattered on the floor, Harry looked at Snape. "I'm sorry."
They hadn't talked about it. What was there to say anyway? Sooner or later someone outside their little family would have found out about them anyway, and it had always been clear that it would end up in the papers. At least there weren't headlines screaming about the Boy Who Lived and his Death Eater lover.
Not yet anyway.
Snape sneered. "Not everything is your fault, Potter." The familiar words left his lips easily, and worked as intended; he could see Harry relax slightly.
Accepting the words as the extent of which Snape was willing to address this in front of the others -- rather surprised he had not stormed out -- Harry turned to collect the parchments from the floor, ignoring the way the others kept staring at him. He didn't know what they expected to happen next.
Whatever it was, they would have to be disappointed.
Harry put the stack of parchments on the floor and then resolutely grabbed his broom from where it rested against the wall. He pulled the small table closer to place the broom servicing kit there, and then focused his attention on cleaning his broom.
A few minutes later Ron cleared his throat and asked Remus to play chess with him, phrasing the question carefully, using the term 'a worthy opponent' with honesty. The tension seemed to dissipate again as the two turned towards the board, giving Sirius something to focus on instead of just glaring at Snape.
Harry was grateful for the peace and quiet.
He could have done this upstairs in his room, but it was good to sit here and work in silence, running his hands through the twigs. Such a familiar thing from ages past, when the whole team had sometimes gathered in the common room to work on their brooms before an important game.
The fact that Draco went to collect his own broom and kit soon after Ron and Remus had made their opening moves wasn't at all surprising. Harry greeted him with a nod as he saw him hesitate at the doorway and then gestured at the table as an invitation.
They didn't talk, both working on their own broom like any professional would, never trusting anyone with the one thing that kept them soaring through the air. Still, it felt right to do this together.
Harry set to remove any loose twigs.
He didn't really look up from his broom until it was in a perfect working shape again, barely noticing when Snape left the room to walk to his laboratory.
Putting away his broom servicing kit, Harry eyed his Firebolt critically. He could have got himself another broom if he wanted, either buying one or accepting one of the offers from broom manufacturers, but he felt comfortable with his Firebolt. He knew its movements by heart.
This would have to do. The handle was shining and there were no loose twigs.
"Potter."
Startling, Harry looked up, blinking as he saw Snape offer him a vial. "What is it?" There was only curiosity in his voice.
"Protection against curses. Put two drops on the handle." As usual, Snape showed him the amount of drops with his fingers -- holding them in another direction than Ron did whenever he made the gesture -- to make sure Harry got it right.
Harry took the vial gently and then dropped two fat gel like drops on the broom handle. The result was spectacular; silver sparks spread across the handle, encasing the broom in swirls of brightness. It burned intensely for a moment and then seemed to vanish inside the broom, leaving only a soft tingle behind.
Handing the vial back, Harry did nothing to hide the happy smile. "Thank you." It was accompanied by a soft touch on Snape's arm.
Dark amusement and a hint of embarrassment warred on Snape's face, finally turning into the familiar closed up expression as he turned to give the vial to Draco, not bothering to repeat his instructions. It was quite clear to him that the boy would manage.
"I should have enough of this for your people in a day or two," Snape said quietly, not looking at anyone else as he marched out of the room again.
Harry shook his head in amazement.
For a long time now, he'd suspected that there were lots of things Snape didn't understand about him. Most of the notions about sharing things came to mind. Now it was slowly dawning that there were things he would probably never understand about Snape either.
The man had never looked uncomfortable in public with him; not when Bill Weasley had so quietly announced their relationship to everyone, not when there had been even more whispers and stares.
Yet he was clearly annoyed by his small gesture of making certain he -- and Draco -- would be safe.
It made him feel warm inside, unable to do anything but to hold his broom and smile at Draco who was putting his broom servicing kit away and trying not to laugh at him.
On the other side of the room, Remus leaned back on his chair and declared, "Check."
Harry's dreams that night were filled with flying; not the reenactment of a Quidditch game they had played years ago, but the feeling of weightlessness and soaring through the air. Waking up well rested, he went quickly through his morning routines before gathering his flying robes from the wardrobe and heading for breakfast.
It was definitely odd to finish dressing in the hallway, pulling on the thicker flying robes when it was so hot outside, but here he was, standing side by side with Draco Malfoy, waiting for him to fasten his robes so they could finally leave.
"Is it just me, or is this completely ridiculous?" Draco asked, rotating his shoulder so that the robes fell in place correctly.
Harry couldn't help smirking as if he was going to comment on Draco's quite familiar outfit, but he simply said, "No, it's definitely not just you." It was different from the times they had managed to sneak out to play one on one Quidditch, flying for the fun of it.
"Good." Draco nodded. "Whenever you're ready."
Others were already waiting, lingering on the street outside their house as if unable to walk the short way to Hogwarts on their own. It was probably only natural; they'd done this in practices as well, everyone waiting until the whole team was ready before going to the pitch.
That was probably the reason for the easy way they formed lines and marched down the road, chattering quietly amongst themselves. Flying would have been easier, but transportation was a single effort while a game needed everyone to play together.
Harry wasn't surprised to see Madam Hooch standing in the middle of the pitch. She walked to the assembled group, greeting everyone with a nod and a few words. They had all started out here, most having their first flying lessons under her guidance and it was almost like coming home.
Finishing with the nods, she went to stand next to Oliver Wood, taking her place there in the group unselfconsciously.
That was definitely unnerving.
Harry shrugged. Somehow this all felt unreal, as if the normalcy of the situation was wrong and they should have a crowd here waiting for them, holding banners and shouting encouragements.
Just like Hooch should be up in the air, the familiar whistle hanging around her neck as she kept an eye on the teams, ready to call out any possible foul.
Letting go of the memories, Harry stepped away from the others, his movements clearly indicating he was prepared to take command. The way everyone perked up also showed that no one was going to challenge his place as their leader.
"Everyone ready?"
There were the usual nods and a few comments about being a bit rusty with the flying thing. Harry could tell by the relaxed looks and smiles that everyone was prepared for this, the words mostly just pre-game quips. Or maybe pre-game nerves.
"Before we begin... You all know why we're here, right?" He wasn't certain they had all been present at the meeting, but even if they had been, he still had to ask.
George summarized everyone's agreements by calling out, "Wizarding air force!"
His brother cuffed him at the side of his head, but laughed with the others nevertheless. There was an almost proud look on Charlie's face that disappeared immediately when George turned to glare at him.
"Yes, even though not really if you are thinking about an air force Muggle style." Harry could see that most of his troops had absolutely no idea what he was talking about. "We will fly and help people on the ground."
Seeing the approving nods, Harry waited for someone -- anyone -- to challenge his rather inane explanation, but no one said a word. There were a few suspicious glances thrown at him, but nothing more.
He sighed, dropping the matter. They'd have enough to do without him brooding over something that, in the end, was rather insignificant. Without further ado, he cast a charm, forming a pulsating field of energy over the pitch. They never used things like that in practices, but there would be no time to look after everyone when they started training with the curses, especially not on something as simple as falling.
"That'll make sure no one gets killed." There was no sign of a smile on his face; this was not a laughing matter. "Has everyone cast proper wards on your brooms?"
There were nods and a few affirmative words coming from everyone, just as he'd expected. These people were no idiots, and even though a normal Quidditch practice would probably go without curses, a player who didn't take care of his broom didn't get to play for long.
"Professor Snape is brewing a curse repelling potion for us. You will get it tomorrow."
There were a few nods and nervous tittering from some, and Harry kept his expression stony as he stared at everyone who thought him mentioning Snape was funny.
The following silence was highly satisfying.
Seeing everyone stand here so attentive didn't make something shrivel inside Harry like he'd feared. This was so unlike the meetings where everyone expected him to be able to lead and guide with impossible expectations; this was something he knew how to do.
No different from the training sessions where he took his team through carefully planned flying.
"All right, people. Spread out and mount your brooms." His mind was already shifting to the familiar gear, his voice certain as any Quidditch captain's. Funny how it didn't really matter that this wasn't about getting ready to defeat another team on the pitch.
Of course if this were a simple Quidditch practice, there would be a familiar team standing in front of him, all wearing the Gryffindor colors. Now there was a mismatched group of people on the field, larger in number than any real Quidditch team, with only adults attending, wearing well worn flying robes of all hue.
Draco Malfoy was standing next to him, wearing green robes and a smug expression, his broom already in place. Madam Hooch kept smirking at Harry when she took her place on his other side, as if she actually enjoyed the role of a simple student instead of being the one herding youngsters on their first flying lesson.
The attentive way everyone was looking at Harry was a clear reminder that this once he wasn't going to have to spell things out for his troops. Everyone here was a professional, and even though some might be a bit rusty with the finer points of flying, no one needed to be told the basics.
"All right then! Let's do some warm ups." Gesturing with his hand, Harry mounted his broom. He wasn't surprised to have the old Gryffindor team take their familiar places behind him, Oliver and Angelina tailing those who had come after their time on the team, easily adapting to the situation.
The rest of the people followed the Gryffindors, casting amused looks at each other.
For the first time, Harry was glad Ron had never made it to the Quidditch team, though it had been close a few times and not qualifying had always hit his friend hard. It would be hard enough to lead this tight band of people already, but with Ron here, it would be near impossible.
The thought brought a familiar wave of anxiety over him, and he glanced to his left, expecting to see George hovering there, on his usual place.
When he could only see Madam Hooch kicking herself up in the air, he frowned.
A strange thought hit him, and swallowing hard, he turned to look over his other shoulder, already knowing what he'd see. The sight of the redhead on his broom with a bemused expression on his face still almost knocked Harry off his Firebolt even though his feet were still firmly planted on the ground.
"Are you all right?" he asked without really thinking. He couldn't help it; seeing George in Fred's old position hit him harder than anything.
George blinked a few times and then nodded. "Yeah. I'm fine."
Unable to really say anything to that, Harry kicked off the ground. Then the worry was diminished by the familiar thrill of flying.
He took the group out for an easy flight around the Quidditch pitch, making sure everyone was comfortable with flying so close to each other. The second round was faster, their route not a simple circle but loops and faints around the towers.
Hovering in the air as the others continued on their way around the pitch, Harry kept an eye on his people, assessing their skills and style with a sharp eye. They had always taken the House Cup matches seriously, but it was clear that everyone knew this was more important than that; the players who were out of sync with the others wouldn't simple lose them a prize, they would lose their lives.
It was very easy to see exactly what position each member of his new team had played, even with those who hadn't been playing for years. The Seekers were mostly ignoring the others, their eyes instinctively scanning the area for the Snitch. Chasers and Beaters flew closer to each other, adjusting to the rhythm of the flying as if it was a second nature by now, ready to react to the Quaffles and keep their Seekers safe. Most of the Keepers went to defensive maneuvers though there were no goals to protect.
Harry catalogued every move, knowing that they would have to hone their strategy so that everyone could do what they already did the best.
He knew the strengths and weaknesses of his old team better than anyone, except maybe for Oliver Wood, and was also familiar with the others he'd played against. Guiding people like Madam Hooch or Oliver himself -- who had always been something akin to a hero to him -- felt weird, but Harry knew perfectly well that they would have to treat this like a game on one respect; their team could only have one captain.
The fact that it would be him didn't seem to surprise anyone.
He watched the group fly by again, responding to the few waves and Draco's grin. It was easy to see that most of the older people had kept playing even after Hogwarts, either in small local teams or some even nationally. Oliver and Angelina soared across the sky with incredible grace, neither showing any regrets for leaving their teams behind to defend their whole world.
Harry's proud smile didn't disappear even when he saw George flying right behind them.
The movements were achingly familiar as Harry watched George swoop down and turn left before making a loop and swinging to right, two slightly different styles melding into one. There was perfect balance in the movements that were exact mirror images to each other, unlike earlier when it had at times seemed as if the two brothers were forever leaning towards each other.
Harry swooped down after them, taking his place slightly above the others. This felt right, and he didn't really care if they never found out what had happened and if George was crazy or not. It was clear that George believed that Fred was right there with him, and Harry didn't need mediwizards to prove him right.
He was going to go with his gut and believe it anyway.
Feeling insanely good, he muttered a sonorus, holding his wand easily even as he flew a bit higher, and then said, "Chasers! Make groups of three, people you know and are comfortable working with." He waited for a moment as his people tried to make the asked formations. When they seemed to be in place, he added, "We'll start with the Hawkshead Attacking Formation and then go to the Parkin's Pincer. Ready? Go!"
The Keepers and the other Seekers flew to the side, hovering in the air easily as the Chaser swooped down in groups of three, any hesitation forgotten at the familiar instructions.
Harry kept them working hard until midday, and then everyone went to have lunch before returning back to the pitch. He ignored the bustle in the Three Broomsticks, concentrating on the pieces of parchment where he was scribbling down ideas and strategy, keeping it firmly in mind that this time the objective wasn't going to be goals and finding the Snitch.
Part 20 Holding the towel loosely in his hand, Ron looked into the mirror and grinned. His hair was standing on end. At least his reflection was simply there, a mirror image of him instead of another Ron Weasley moving around and commenting on how ridiculous he looked.
He dropped the towel on the floor and then ran his fingers through his messy hair, barely managing to smooth the wild strands. Not exactly presentable, but good enough for going to bed.
Whichever bed he chose to go to.
The fear of encountering a darker glare than usual made him tidy the bathroom a bit; mop the wet floor with the towel before putting the towel into the hamper, pick up his clothes, that sort of thing. He tried to find the idea of Snape actually showering funny, but it only managed to give him the creeps. Snape naked anywhere was a fodder for nightmares.
It almost made him choose to go to bed alone. Almost.
Padding across the hallway, Ron glanced at the firmly shut door on the right and shuddered a little. No matter how hard he tried to get used to Snape's presence in the house, it was probably something he'd always find totally unnatural. But it wasn't really his problem. As long as the git spent most of his time in the cellar, he was kind of all right with it. In a weird and disgusting way.
He had bigger things to worry about. The training wasn't about showing off and making silly jokes anymore, it all felt so real these days, now that the fighting seemed to be right around the corner. No one could hide from the reality anymore.
The worry and all the things they went through every day made him so tired, but not tired enough to just crawl under the blankets and sleep through the whole night. With everything else, there was constant tension, and his body reacted to it seemingly automatically, almost thrumming with all the nervous excitement.
As usual, there was a good remedy for that.
It would be good to do something that would take his mind off the constant war and he could bet Malfoy would be just as eager as he was. He always was. The Slytherin spent his days flying with Harry and the other Quidditch players, but even with all the excitement during the day, he never walked away from the possibility of shagging.
The thought made Ron grin. Slytherins!
He stood at the doorway for a moment, hesitating before he could step inside. For some reason he didn't want to go to Malfoy's room tonight, preferring to stay on his own turf.
It wasn't something he thought of often, the decision between getting up and crawling across the hall to his own room and just falling asleep and risking rolling into the wet spot made when it was actually an issue. Most of the nights he chose to leave Malfoy to deal with the mess, sneaking back into his own room, but all the thoughts about Snape made him reluctant to risk the nightly hallway tonight.
The bastard had spent decades patrolling Hogwarts at night. He was bound to sneak around the house as well. Let Malfoy deal with the possibility of running into him while being half naked and smelling of sex.
They had no script for this, no words or hidden looks for deciding things. He waited for Malfoy to come up and take care of his evening routines and then they kind of went straight to business and ended up in someone's bed, happy and sticky.
Yanking his favorite T-shirt down a bit -- and yes, it was definitely too small for him -- Ron stood there waiting, knowing he wouldn't have to wait for long.
He didn't like waiting, but was usually willing to be patient. Something was different today, and by the time Malfoy finally came upstairs, he glared at him before the annoyance morphed into anticipation.
"Weasley." Malfoy's voice was quiet as he nodded at him as he passed him by
Ron answered the nod with one of his own. "Malfoy." He sounded rusty, as if he hadn't spoken for a while, the sound mirroring the dull ache inside.
There were no words, there was no need for those these days, and he gestured at his own room, not even waiting for Malfoy to nod again before heading towards his bed. It was a nightly ritual, like washing his hands before dinner, and it always played the same.
No matter how hard the day was, there was always this; the unnamed connection between Malfoy and him, something he couldn't even begin to describe even if he wanted to. And he definitely didn't want to think of names or definitions for something that should be just as simple as it was; fucking.
It was damn convenient to have Malfoy in his bed. Not that he would admit that to anyone. It had taken him a long time to even admit it to himself, but these days, he was almost comfortable with the thought. For once Malfoy had been right; he didn't have to like the bastard to like fucking him.
Sex didn't have to change anything.
The door closed behind Malfoy, and the sound alone made him shiver. He was tired, but not that tired, and the idea of Malfoy's body writhing under his was enough to drive all thoughts of sleep away.
Not bothering to say anything, Ron turned to Malfoy, pulling him close as soon as the bed dipped.
He took the control of the first kiss, determined not to give Malfoy a chance to try anything funny. It was always a rush to feel Malfoy's mouth open under his and respond to his kiss, the capitulation hesitant at first and then complete as Ron took everything Malfoy was willing to give.
One kiss lead to others, and soon Ron was pulling Malfoy's flying robes off, needing to feel the soft skin and strong muscle hidden beneath the heavy cloth.
Malfoy's hands were already under his T-shirt, his lips curling into a smile against Ron's lips and driving him just as insane as his touch did. It was always enough to make Ron burn with a mixture of anger and lust and his movements turned frantic.
Sometimes Malfoy simply went with it, surrendering to his need as if it was somehow too much to fight. Now it looked like the angry lust was contagious.
They barely had enough time -- or brain cells left -- to put their wands securely on the nightstand before Malfoy's robes pooled on the floor with various knick knacks and small coins falling from his pockets, bouncing on the thick carpet before rolling under the bed. Malfoy bent down to collect something, giving Ron a perfect view of his arse, and once again it got a little hazy after that.
All Ron could think of was getting that arse naked and in bed.
He peeled off Malfoy's clothes layer after layer until he had him naked, working without thought. This was familiar by now, the need to touch and be touched, the small twinge of guilt for doing something like this with Malfoy so faint he could almost ignore it completely.
It was drowned when Malfoy's hands moved to undress him.
Malfoy grabbed the hem of his T-shirt and tried to yank it over his head, growling as it didn't really work. He yanked again, and one of the small tears at the hemline finally gave up, splitting the shirt in two as Malfoy's strong hands searched for bare skin.
The sound of tearing cloth was astonishingly loud. Ron groaned as he felt his shirt rip, the nice familiar haze disappearing somewhere. Losing his favorite Cannons T-shirt was definitely a mood killer. "Damn it, Malfoy. That's my favorite shirt!"
"I'll buy you another one." There was more ripping as questing hands moved over Ron's chest.
Ron lay absolutely still while the words rang in his head over and over again. Malfoy would buy him another shirt.
They were in bed and Malfoy was destroying his favorite shirt, the one his father had bought him after saving for it for months and he thought it would be enough to just buy him another one?
But of course. He was Draco Malfoy, and he had enough money to buy anything in the world.
He rolled to his side. "Get off me!"
It was surprisingly easy to push Malfoy away, the balance between lust and anger shifting so that for once the lust was losing to the burning anger building inside.
"What is it now?" Malfoy asked, exasperation evident in him, and the way he looked at Ron told all too clearly that he had no idea what was making him push him away.
Ron seethed with anger. He wasn't going to lie here and let Malfoy use that superior tone at him anymore.
He'd be damned if he ever let Malfoy buy him anything!
It came out a bit differently. "I'm not your fucking whore!" Ron snarled from between clenched teeth.
The words seemed to almost echo in the room, and even Ron cringed a little at the way they sounded; mean and sharp and full of venom.
He didn't regret them. Things had changed a lot recently, with people looking up to him, seeing the youngest son of Minister Weasley instead of a poor kid who would be a nobody if he didn't have Harry Potter's friendship. But Malfoy never seemed to change, and here was once again proof that he saw Ron as he always had, looking at him with amusement and superiority showing in every look and gesture he made.
Now the bastard didn't even try to hide it, offering him money for... He didn't really know what.
Probably not just for the shirt, but everything possible. Ron couldn't really tell; it was all a jumble in his mind. All he did know was that he had already sold out on most of his principles concerning sleeping with people he didn't even like, and this was simply too much.
"You really think I would do that?" For the first time in ages, there was resignation in Malfoy's eyes, and it was clear from his expression that he could almost taste the bile in his mouth. "You really think..." Seeing the awful truth in Ron's flaming gaze, he shrugged, as if getting rid of the pain, coldness replacing all doubts. "Fine then."
Ron stared as Malfoy got off the bed and just looked at him for a while.
He didn't know what to say, seeing quite clearly that his words had actually managed to hurt Malfoy and sort of hating himself for that. Never really good at articulating his feelings -- or even acknowledging most of them -- he didn't know what to say, knowing only that whatever words came out next would probably be something he'd never even dreamed of using while addressing any of the Slytherins.
Especially Malfoy.
Gathering his clothes from the floor, Draco picked up a Galleon he'd dropped only moments ago when undressing had been the most important thing in the whole world and squeezed it so hard his hand hurt.
This was going to end right now.
It had been good for a while, with Weasley getting over stuff and saving all the stupid outbursts for the training hall. Things outside were insane, and it had always been easy in bed; Weasley holding him tight and making his skin burn. Shagging like that was for fun and an end of its own, it had nothing to do with guilt or games and he had reveled in it.
No amount of guilt or desire or need would make him do this anymore. Whatever problems Weasley had were his own and didn't have anything to do with him.
He didn't want mushy emotionalism like the looks thrown between Black and Lupin when they were once again harboring the delusions no one could see. This wasn't a relationship, this was never going to be one. He wanted the connection with someone who wasn't repulsive and knew what was going on. Weasley fit both categories and for a moment it had seemed like they were actually seeking the same.
Now he understood it was all an illusion, and he was going to walk away and never come back.
Draco finished pulling on his pants, and straightened his back, unwilling to linger here longer even if it meant walking around in his underwear. The Galleon in his hand felt awfully hot, and he realized he was holding something that would hit Weasley just as hard as his words had hit Draco.
Throwing the coin at Weasley as an adequate payment for the services that were no longer needed would hit the arrogant redhead right where it would hurt the most, and for the first time in ages, Draco would revel in the pain his actions would cause.
"Don't go."
The tone from Weasley made Draco hesitate, and he looked up from the Galleon. He'd never heard that tone on Weasley, especially when he was talking to him. "What do you want?"
Ron stared at Malfoy, trying to remember all the nasty and evil things he'd ever done to him. It didn't really work. All he could remember was how Malfoy had already apologized for all the bad things that had happened to his family and that he had practically laughed in his face.
He didn't want to be like that. "I'm... I'm sorry, all right?"
It came out sullen and more as an accusation than a real apology. For a few moments Draco couldn't comprehend just exactly what Weasley had said. Then he raised an eyebrow, his hand forming a protecting fist over the golden Galleon. As an apology, that was completely unacceptable.
Sighing, Ron brushed his palm across his face and then said, "I mean it. Not just because of the sex and not because of..." He couldn't really think of anything else tangible enough to force him to apologize. He kept his eyes focused on Malfoy even though looking at him was even harder than saying the words. "I really mean it. I'm sorry." Even if Malfoy was a bastard at times, he wasn't bad all the time.
It was insane how the way Malfoy nodded to accept his apology made him sigh with relief.
Insane and wrong on so many levels he couldn't even begin to describe them. But he knew that apologizing to Malfoy was not something he should do. It was probably even worse than shagging him.
"I really shouldn't want this..." Ron muttered, needing to fill the silence with something, since it looked like Malfoy wasn't about to return to bed. Then again it didn't look like he was about to leave, so maybe he hadn't ruined everything. "I shouldn't like this. Or... you know..." He wasn't going to add he wasn't supposed to like Malfoy, even if that was what his silly brain had conjured up.
Draco cocked his head. "Why?" He wasn't sure why Weasley was making such a big deal of it it; he hadn't done or said anything to insult him or his friends for ages. The verbal sparring was exciting and the following sex was fantastic. So what on earth was the problem?
"I..." Ron couldn't really use Malfoy's father as an excuse anymore. Nor could he make comments about him being a Slytherin; Blaise was one and he wasn't that bad. "Because I'm supposed to marry a nice Gryffindor girl and have a family." It just came out and sounded silly even in his own ears, but ever since he'd been a kid, he'd known that was what Weasley men were supposed to do.
He could see from the slight softening of Malfoy's gaze that Malfoy knew all about duty and the way things were supposed to be. Then he realized that it had always been like that with Malfoy. He had been supposed to follow his father's footsteps, become a Death Eater, do things too awful to mention and enjoy every damn minute of it.
Not really liking the implications of his own thoughts, Ron waited for Malfoy to say something about his inane words or maybe laugh at him, wondering why this was so damn hard. He shouldn't be with Malfoy, shouldn't want to spend time with him or shag him or talk about Quidditch with him, but it didn't change the fact that doing all those things was nice. Probably one of the nicest things in life right now.
Draco let his hands relax, his robes and the Galleon falling to the floor unnoticed. "I am not asking you to marry me." There were so many things he could say, most probably things Weasley was thinking right now if that overly serious look on his face was any indication, but he could only manage this.
"Yeah." Smiling hesitantly, Ron was glad Malfoy was willing to let it go. "That would definitely be weird."
They were actually grinning at the same stupid joke and the world wasn't coming to an end. That alone was a miracle.
"So... What happens now?" Ron might be able to joke with Malfoy, just a bit, but he didn't want to ask him to come back to bed. Sure, he would ask if that's what it took, but that would make it serious again and he was really not comfortable with that kind of a discussion.
The reply was highly satisfying in all its elegance, even though there were no words until Malfoy was crawling back to bed all naked.
"What happens next is that I'm going to kiss you. Right now," Draco muttered, his lips a breath away from Weasley's. The kiss was soft, teasing. "And then I'm going to taste you." Another kiss. "And then I'm going to suck you off."
Ron had absolutely no objections to that plan. "Yeah. Okay."
Licking the corner of Weasley's mouth, Draco added, "And then you can bring me off any way you want to." It was a dare and they both knew it. Until now, he'd only felt Weasley's hand on his prick when they had been shagging, and it had probably never even occurred to the redhead to reciprocate the occasional blowjob he gave him. That would have to change, if not tonight, then sometime soon.
Draco was perfectly fine with Weasley shagging him, but the other thing felt too much like being used, and he wasn't going to allow that. Not anymore.
Ron swallowed. He wasn't sure if he could actually try to take Malfoy's prick into his mouth -- and definitely not if that meant going down on his knees in front of him -- but the challenge in the gray eyes made him determined to at least consider it. It wasn't as if he wasn't as brave as Malfoy! If he could suck prick and be so blasé about it, so could he. "Sure."
Part 21 Hands still cramping from clutching onto the broom all morning, Harry looked around the room, finding the meeting a bit strange after days of actually doing things instead of just talking.
But right now, this was more important than going through the swoops and formations again. His air force could practice without him for an hour or two.
"We need to make final decisions on the task forces." He knew they should have probably done this ages ago, but every decision seemed to be final in a morbid way, and he'd wanted to postpone the inevitable just a little while longer.
There were nods, people already gathered in small groups as if they had only been waiting for him to say it out loud.
"When the time is right," Harry said, "Remus and Sirius will take care of the smuggling business. They need people with knowledge about the Dark Creatures with them."
The long hours of training and classes had drawn people to their areas of expertise, and it didn't take long for the ones who felt competent on this to raise their hands and then migrate to the two wizards.
Harry didn't say anything as Hermione joined them.
"Good. Then we need people to take care of Voldemort's strongholds. We can not leave them any place to fall back to."
This time, no one said a word about destroying homes. People simply waited for Harry to call out places and then made decisions of where to go, choosing either the smaller, more remote mansions that would be taken down soon, probably the following days, or the larger estates.
Leaning back against the backrest, Harry let his mind wander as people talked, confirming plans about the big battle they were now looking forward to.
The main force of their army would stay at Hogwarts and face the Death Eaters. Though that battle would undoubtedly be formidable, it was the smaller operations that could well turn the tide of the whole war.
It wasn't exactly a matter of choice anymore. The preparations for everything had been set in motion a long time ago, when Dumbledore's words had made it clear that this war would be won or lost at the conference table and not on the field.
Harry tried to keep that in mind, but he couldn't really ignore the clenching in his gut that told him that as usual, Dumbledore had not been completely truthful with his words.
Whatever would happen before the battle would be easy to plan, especially the small attacks that were meant to drive Voldemort to actually attack. No one could really predict what would happen when the battle was engaged.
The silence in the room jolted him out of his thoughts, and he looked around, wondering what had caused the uncomfortable mood.
It didn't take a genius to guess.
"I think I should be the one leading the operation to the Mansion."
Harry knew he should have told Draco to stay with the others at the pitch. "Out of the question." He could see others around him nod at his stern words. "You're already involved with the air force, and I need you in the air."
Draco shook his head. "You'll need my expertise." He didn't want to say this, but had to. "I know the place better than anyone, I know all the secrets. When we go to my... the Malfoy Mansion, I should be there to guide our people."
He'd been over this in his head, and there was really no other option for him. He'd spent his childhood sneaking through the endless corridors of the Mansion, snooping around, following the house elves and the visitors who had always seemed to sneak around in silence, casting furtive looks around as if they were afraid of every shadow.
"No." Harry wasn't going to let Draco go anywhere near that place. "You're needed in the air with us. End of discussion."
Arrogance almost drove Draco to his feet, but then he realized that Harry was probably trying to protect him. Even with all the show of friendship and the quiet conversations they'd had, this still managed to shock him to the core. "I appreciate what you're trying to do, but it's my place to..."
"... do as I tell you." It came out more easily that Harry could have ever imagined.
He wasn't going to let Draco do something as bravely idiotic as that. It would be hard enough to face the people who would come for them, Draco's former friends, his housemates. His family. Going back to destroy his own house was inconceivable, and Harry wasn't going to add a friend's nightmares to his list of future regrets.
Draco nodded slightly, acknowledging Harry's words as truth on one level. Yes, his place as one of the Order of the Phoenix was to do as their leader told him to do. But he was not going to let Harry operate on foolish sentimentality when he knew quite well that this gave them strategic advantage. "I know. But it has to be me. No one else knows that place as well as I do."
Besides, it felt like it was his duty to do this, no matter how foolish it sounded.
He had definitely been spending too much time around Gryffindors.
"We will find someone else."
Seeing the stubborn way Harry was clenching his jaw almost made Draco roll his eyes. There were days he could honestly say he liked and even grudgingly respected Harry, but sometimes he thought he needed a swift kick in the backside. "Who?"
He wondered if Harry had any idea of what he was talking about. The Mansion was huge with corridors that went on and on, rooms hidden behind tapestries, vaults hidden cleverly in plain sight so that one would simply walk by and never even know what was there. Then there were the levels below ground, the dungeons no one could have possibly memorized completely.
"I think that should be rather obvious."
Both young men turned to stare at Snape who was sitting next to Minerva McGonagall, looking as calm as ever.
Harry was the first one to realize just exactly what he meant. "No!" The exclamation was instinctive, but came out without any real fire, as if he already knew he couldn't win this argument.
"I know the Malfoy Mansion, especially all the places where Lucius has been performing the Dark Arts as well as most of the vaults." Snape didn't have to add how he'd managed to gather that information. "Furthermore, I am completely capable of defending myself against whatever surprises they have left there."
Before Harry could say anything, professor McGonagall turned to face Snape, her hand touching his sleeve softly. "Severus, surely you can not mean you would actually go back there!"
"I don't want to go there." It was the absolute truth, the memories of the Mansion not considerably more pleasant to Snape than they were to Minerva. "But I do believe that should be my part in the fight."
Harry's throat squeezed shut, silencing all the arguments. He wanted to scream and shout and absolute forbid Snape from doing anything as dangerous as that, but what good would that do? They would have to leave the Mansion to the last and destroy it when Voldemort's people had left, and that meant that while Harry and the Order faced the Death Eaters at Hogwarts, others would be sneaking through the corridors of the Mansion.
It would be dangerous on so many level, but the alternative was probably even worse.
He knew that leading the Order into battle meant that he would lead people to their death; good people, those he had known half his life. Would it be any better to have Snape facing the Death Eaters on the field than to have him in the Mansion?
Harry didn't want to make such a decision, not for people he loved, but there was really no way he could shelter them from harm.
He looked at Snape, ignoring the way other Order members were staring at him, silently begging him to consider it.
Snape looked straight back, his gaze burning dark.
No one in the room made a sound, the tension growing until it reached an uncomfortable level, but still no one moved or said anything to break it.
Harry hadn't objected on Sirius going on a mission, but it had been decided months ago, when they had first heard about Voldemort's plans on using the Dark Creatures. That had been Dumbledore's call.
He'd known Ron would stand by his brothers, just as he'd known Hermione would go wherever her knowledge would be needed the most.
There was no way on earth he would order Snape to do this, but even with the man volunteering, he felt nauseous. It wasn't just that the Mansion was a familiar place to Snape, the place was dangerous, and sending anyone there wasn't easier than telling them to stand by him on the battlefield.
"Are you sure?" Lips numb, he forced the question out. Seeing Snape nod curtly, he repeated, "I mean it. Are you absolute sure about this?" There was really no alternative he could offer Snape, or indeed anyone. It had gone beyond choosing between fighting and trying to find another way years ago.
Snape nodded. "Yes."
The hand on his arm tightened convulsively, McGonagall's fingers closing over his Dark Mark through the cloth unintentionally.
Knowing all too well that he might one day look back to this and regret ever agreeing to any of this lunacy, Harry said quietly, "All right. You will lead the operation to Malfoy Mansion."
His mouth tasted horrible as he said that.
There were soft whispers in the room, people who hadn't attended the smaller Order meetings now looking at them with curiosity evident on their face. Harry pretended he didn't notice, ignoring every word.
He would have to avoid the newspapers like the plague. If anyone dared to comment of the hero of their word sending his lover to face almost certain death... He didn't even know what would happen next.
It now felt incredible that he had once stood by and let Arthur Weasley face the idiots who had tried to hurt Snape. He wasn't sure what had changed, or if indeed anything really had, but if something like that happened now, he wouldn't simply deal with the issue. He would probably do something too awful to even contemplate.
Snape had been right about one aspect; forming bonds of attachment with people made life more difficult on occasion. Not that Harry regretted anything he had with Snape. He only regretted he had to be a part of this charade, now more than ever.
"Er... I think I'll join your expedition, if you don't mind, Snape." Arabella Figg's voice rang oddly loud in the room.
As if relieved that someone had broken the awkward silence, there were a few others to join in as well.
Bill Weasley hesitated as one of his colleagues from the Cursebreaking department made a comment about them needing professional curse breakers at the vaults, casting looks at his father and Charlie before looking at Harry, clearly unable to make his mind.
It was clear to Harry that the Weasleys were less interested in destroying the Malfoy ancestral home than they were in destroying the lord of the mansion. He couldn't blame him.
He wasn't going to order the Weasleys around. Arthur would most likely stand firm on the Hogwarts ground, their new Acting Minister completely unable to hide behind his status. Charlie and George would fly with Harry. Bill and Ron could choose where they went, both eager to join the fight.
Harry was just glad that Percy was nowhere to be seen in the meetings and that everyone had agreed that Ginny was too young to take any part in this.
Leaning back on his chair again, Harry listened to the discussion half heartedly. He didn't have anything to contribute to the discussion anymore. It was all too clear that people around him used their training to figure out what to do on their own.
That was the only good thing about this situation.
Snape leaned closer to him, paying no real attention to the fact that people were staring. "Thank you for not making a scene." He paused, and then added more quietly, "We should have discussed this earlier."
Yes, they should have. The only problem was that Harry didn't think of any time that would have been good for such a discussion. Maybe it was better this way. Now they all had things to concentrate on, and he didn't have extra time on his hands to wallow in the pointless anxiety the thought of losing Snape caused.
Letting out a little laugh, Harry muttered, "I don't think talking would have made any difference."
"Perhaps so," Snape admitted.
Harry looked at him, realizing that Snape knew exactly what was waiting for them. Funny how it could hit him so hard, even after all the countless hours of talking about war and fighting and death with this man. He had been so angry then, so frightened, and nothing had been able to drive those emotions completely away.
They were still there, right under the surface. But now there was also hope, fierce hope about the future. All the things he could lose were also things he would fight for; everything he shared with Snape were worth fighting for and dying for if needs be.
He didn't think it was selfish of him to think about such a big thing with such definitions. Why should he be any different from anyone else? They might all think about their world and freedom, but in the end, everyone fought to keep their loved ones safe.
"I still worry, you know," he muttered quietly so that no one else would hear.
Snape looked at him for a moment before nodding slowly. "I may share your misgivings on the situation as well." With that, he turned his attention back to the conversation that was still going on.
Lips twitching a little, as if trying to fight a huge grin that would be completely inappropriate, Harry let Arthur Weasley draw him into a small argument about the Ministry.
It was strange how easily everyone accepted their parts in this. Weeks of training had called everyone to focus on the war, and no one seemed to question the logic behind all the plans. Harry was glad for that. The way people talked about the upcoming battle as a certainty was better than the endless questions.
Plans made, they called it a day right before dinner time.
People walked out of the Headquarters in small groups. It was a habit by now; no one traveled alone, not even the few blocks to their quarters. Hogsmeade was safe -- or as safe as any place could be -- but it was still best not to tempt fate.
Harry waited patiently for Ron to finish saying goodbye to his father and brothers so that they could all walk back home together.
The others were already by the door, Remus and Hermione standing between Snape and Sirius. They didn't even seem to be conscious about it anymore, all staying together as a silent agreement. Most of the time, the small group didn't even attract much attention, except for the few curious looks people threw at Snape every now and then.
"Harry." Hermione nudged at him, shifting parchments under her arm. "Do you have any plans for the evening?"
The glance at Snape was involuntary. "Er... No. Not really." Nothing beyond the usual. Dinner, maybe joining Snape downstairs to watch him brew, snuggling down with him if they were tired, but most likely something more vigorous.
Hermione smiled. "I see." It was clear she knew exactly what Harry meant.
"Oh hush," Harry muttered. He liked the matter of fact way Hermione was talking to him about what he shared with Snape, but there was no reason for the smugness. They weren't as bad as Ron and Draco after all, not keeping anyone up with all the ruckus.
"I didn't say anything!" Still smiling, Hermione turned to look at Ron who was walking towards them. "At least you're not as bad as Ron and Malfoy." There was a slight edge to her voice, as if she still didn't really approve them.
Harry thought it made her sound exactly like McGonagall. Ignoring he'd just thought the same a moment ago, he gestured towards the door. "If you say so." He was pretty sure she was lying.
Part 22 The small attacks seemed to be working. Soon, there were fewer raids on the villages as the Death Eaters gathered to protect their forts, fearing that what had happened at the Riddle house would be repeated. It was good to finally have a victory, even though it brought Harry no joy to order people's houses to be destroyed.
But not all the news were good.
Small bands of Aurors and Order members had been lost on training missions, some turning out dead, but others disappeared from the face of the earth. Such losses always hit Harry hard, but this time it was worse than before,
One of the names on the list handed to him was Neville Longbottom.
Harry could only sit there and stare at the parchment, ignoring the buzz around the room. He didn't see Hermione's tears or the way Dean broke his knuckles on the solid stone wall. All he could think of was that he should probably make sure that someone had informed Mrs. Longbottom.
He had no idea what he should tell her; assuring her he'd do anything to get him back would be kind of hypocritical, but he'd be damned if he sent condolences before knowing his friend was truly lost.
It was fortunate that Sirius had stayed home with Remus, both finding it easier to browse through the books in silence while they figured out the final details of their mission. Harry was having hard time staying in control as it was.
Trying to deal with Sirius' worry would have probably made him snap.
The mere thought made him gag. Merlin! Sometimes he loathed himself more than anyone else.
This wasn't about some strategy on the paper, this was about a friend and how the hell could he just stand here and watch his housemates crumble all around him without joining them in their grief? In their rage.
Harry saw Ron looking at him, and for the briefest of moments he knew that if Ron made even the barest of suggestions of going out with their army and bringing Neville back, he would probably say yes and think about it later. At the same time he knew with absolute certainty that he would never do anything of the sort.
A horrible thought hit him, making him gag again, and he turned slowly to look at Dumbledore. The fact that the old Headmaster was very carefully standing on the other side of the room with his back turned to him made him mutter curses from under his breath.
The room was suddenly too full of people. He couldn't breathe in here; any deep breath would surely force the primitive scream out of his lungs.
Harry turned around and walked stiffly to the smaller meeting room he used as his private office.
Glad that professor McGonagall was taking care of the girls -- Hermione now reduced to growling, but both Lavender and Parvati sobbing loudly -- Ron inched away from the other Gryffindors. He was unable to let himself even think about what it meant to have Neville disappear like that.
Until they knew anything for sure, he refused to consider the fact that being taken by the Death Eaters was as good as being dead.
He knew death, and this wasn't it. Couldn't be it.
Denial was a happy place right now, and Ron was trying his best to stay there for as long as he could. It was clear that to everyone else, reality was too hard to escape, and there were all sorts of angry outburst coming from his friends and even some of the professors in the room.
He didn't want to talk to Dean, who was already being scolded by madam Pomfrey for breaking his hand. What good would words do anyway? No one in this room could do anything about the whole thing, well except maybe for Harry, but even he was looking weird, walking away from his people, his robes billowing behind him menacingly.
Ron rushed after Harry. "Harry, wait up!"
"Not now, Ron."
Not paying any attention on the words beyond realizing they were so obviously growled from between clenched teeth, Ron went after his friend. This was not the time to be alone with grief. "Harry..."
Harry stopped and slowly turned around. "Not. Now."
Ron shivered at the maelstrom of fury and pain showing in Harry's eyes. He'd never seen Harry like this and had no idea what to do or say. Anger or grief would be okay, but this went beyond anything he had experienced.
"Mr. Weasley."
Spinning around at the sound of his name, Ron actually felt relieved to see Snape standing at the doorway. "Yeah. Okay." It didn't matter that Snape hadn't actually said anything; he understood him anyway.
It was definitely weird.
He wanted to leave the room and the oppressive mood, but for some reason he hesitated before stepping out, lingering by the wall in silence, almost afraid to look back.
To Ron's relief, Snape was just standing there, behind Harry. He was touching Harry's shoulder, but that was all. Letting out a shuddering sigh, Ron turned to go and then froze as he heard Harry whisper quietly.
"They will know who he is and if he's not dead already..."
"I know."
Ron flinched at the calm way Snape just said it. How could anyone just say something like that?
"Damn, I'm tired of all this..." Harry's voice trailed off. There was a small silence as Snape said nothing and simply stood there, waiting. Then Harry turned to look over his shoulder. "Do you think it was intentional that they took Neville?"
"I don't know."
Ron shook his head a little, exasperation radiating from him. Why on earth couldn't Snape just lie? It would be easy, even Ron could probably manage the words about it not being anyone's fault. That it was probably a random attack or something. He knew how hard Harry took these things, so why couldn't Snape do something to prevent all the guilt and stuff?
"Yeah."
Turning around completely, Harry kept his gaze on Snape. "We have a lot to do. I can't do this now." His lips twisted into something that wasn't exactly a smile. "It won't help anyone and I'm just so..." It seemed he didn't how to finish his sentence.
"Anything you need right now?" Snape asked, still calm as ever.
Harry shook his head. "Later."
They stood there for a long moment, Ron unable to leave, neither Harry nor Snape even noticing his presence. There was a commotion in the big meeting hall, but Ron knew no one would come here now, no matter what.
Finally Harry sighed. "You know what happens next, don't you?" He didn't even wait for Snape's muttered affirmative. "I have to use this. It may be the only chance we get."
Ron had no idea what he was talking about, but he could hear disgust in Harry's voice. He was a bit surprised to see that Snape didn't seem to be much happier about the whole thing.
"Can you do it?"
There was not even the slightest of hesitations, as Harry nodded at Snape's question. "I have to." His lips quirked into yet another not-really-a-smile. "So yeah. I can do it."
"Good," Snape said quietly.
Ron's eyes widened as Harry stepped closer to Snape, hand moving to touch Snape's. Trying not to make his disgust too obvious, Ron turned around and rushed back into the big meeting hall. Whatever happened next, he so didn't need to see it.
He wished he knew what they were talking about.
Harry took a deep breath, his fingers brushing against Snape's grounding him. "I can do this," he muttered, trying to reassure himself more than Snape.
He didn't expect there to be a reply, glad that Snape only looked at him. It was more than enough, and way better than the empty words anyone else would offer. Snape would also understand what he wanted to say even when he didn't really say it.
"I think I should go back there." Not that Harry wanted to. He just knew that hiding in here didn't help. The longer he stood here, the less he wanted to go and face his troops.
Snape agreed. "Yes, I think you should."
They walked out side by side without touching. Snape had his arms crossed on his chest, his robes billowing as usual as he swept out of the room, Harry looking just as forbidding with the tight expression on his face.
The mood in the big meeting hall was still somber, and for once people didn't focus on Harry when he stepped through the side door. Everyone was staring at an old lady who was slowly making her way across the room towards Albus Dumbledore.
Even though Harry had never seen Neville's grandmother before, her appearance was too famous to be missed. Looking drained, Mrs. Longbottom still managed to stand straight under the impressive hat as she walked slowly across the room.
McGonagall went to greet her. "Fenella. We just heard. I'm so sorry."
"Minerva." The stuffed vulture shook a little as Mrs. Longbottom nodded curtly. "I don't need you to be sorry. I want my grandson back!"
Harry flinched as if someone had slapped him.
"My dear Fenella, I assure you, we want Neville back as much as you do." Dumbledore stepped forward, holding out his hands and looking as sympathetic as possible.
This time, his sympathy wasn't received with the usual grace.
Mrs. Longbottom's hat looked it would capsize as the old woman shook with anger. "Nonsense! What are you going to do about getting my grandson back?"
"Fenella... I'm not sure there is anything to be done." McGonagall muttered quietly, trying to draw her attention away from the Headmaster. "The Death Eaters...."
"Don't try to patronize me, Minerva. I know quite well what the Death Eaters do to their victims. What I don't know is what you're going to do about Voldemort and his foolish games!"
Something inside Harry snapped, and he didn't have to pretend as he said calmly, "I think we've had enough games already, Mrs. Longbottom."
People turned to look at him.
Mrs. Longbottom glared. "Harry Potter. What are you going to do about this?" It was clear that she didn't think he could manage much better than Albus Dumbledore.
"I will challenge Voldemort to a duel," Harry said. The anger burning inside turned this into something far beyond a simple strategy, and right that moment he would have indeed issued any challenge possible and even believed in it, no matter how he knew all challenges would be futile. "That should get us Neville back."
Ron opened his mouth to say something, but Hermione hissed, "Don't! Harry knows what he's doing!" making him close his mouth and glare.
It once again looked like everyone else knew what was going on and he was left out of the loop. There would be some explaining to do later on!
Mrs. Longbottom's expression softened a little. "And he will accept your challenge?"
"He will if I make it official. It's almost new moon, and I have all the witnesses I need here." Raising his voice, Harry repeated with a louder voice, making the whole room echo with his words. "I hereby challenge Voldemort to a duel."
The sound of cheers and applauds in the room was almost deafening.
Ron couldn't believe his ears. What the hell? They were supposed to take care of Voldemort's troops and now Harry was throwing away his life for what? For revenge? "Are you insane?" he asked, his voice drowned by the catcalls and whistles.
"There will be no duel," Hermione said, leaning closer to him again. "Think about it, Ron. This isn't more than just another way to make him attack us."
Of course that kind of made sense, but Ron wasn't convinced. "Are you sure?" Well, refusing a challenge would make Voldemort look like a coward, so he had to react somehow, but would he really risk an attack when he could just walk to Harry and... risk everything.
Eyes widening, Ron turned to stare at Harry again and seeing the small moue of displeasure on his lips made him realize that Hermione had been absolutely right.
It was strange to watch things unfold and see behind what was shown on the surface. Ron could tell that Dumbledore and McGonagall weren't surprised by Harry's declaration, and neither was Snape who was still standing right behind Harry, as if offering silent support.
Ron realized Harry had known what would happen the moment they told him about Neville's disappearance. It made him slightly nauseous and he knew that would never be able to use anything as cold bloodedly as this.
McGonagall stepped closer to Harry. "Are you sure you want to do this, Mr. Potter?" There was genuine worry behind her quiet, planned words.
"I'm old enough to issue a challenge, and it's the right time for it. Yes, I'm sure." Harry nodded.
"According to the laws about dueling, you have to be an adult to issue a challenge, and the most traditional time for one is when the moon has waned." Hermione whispered into Ron's ear. "It would probably be even better around Halloween, but I'm sure this will work as well."
Ron could only nod at that, remembering the stories great-aunt Tessie had told him when he'd been little. They hadn't exactly been happy fairy tales about baby crups and bunnies.
They had given him nightmares for weeks.
Mrs. Longbottom wasn't looking angry anymore, her expression full of grief. "And will you bring my grandson back to me?" She raised her hand when she saw the flicker of doubt in his eyes. "Even to be buried. I... would like to have him back."
Instead of an enraged old madam, there was only a grieving grandmother left, someone who hadn't been able to bury her son even when he was lost to her, forced to only visit the living shell of him and his wife at St. Mungo's.
It reminded Harry of that awful scene at the cemetery over three years ago, making his ears buzz. He didn't want to bring anyone's body home to be buried, he never wanted to attend another funeral. But he had no choice but to nod, "I will bring him back if that's humanly possible."
She acknowledged that with a nod of her own, clearly unable to say anything else.
Minerva McGonagall took the few steps that separated her from Mrs. Longbottom, and this time the elderly woman allowed her to lead her away, accepting the soft words without a scathing comment.
One of the older Ministry officials, one of the few who had survived Fudge's last attempt for glory, approached Harry. "Mr. Potter!"
"Yes?" Steeling himself for whatever the man had to say, Harry quirked an eyebrow.
The man gushed about his bravery for a moment, getting both approving nods and exasperated looks from the people standing nearby. Then he got to the point, explaining the intricacies of a formal challenge, relishing the details and droning on and on about it.
Harry listened, nodding politely every time the man looked at him.
He agreed to go to the Ministry for the paperwork, even though all the witnesses here were enough to make it formal already. He also agreed to make the challenge public, knowing that there would undoubtedly be yet another special edition of the Prophet later on today, describing this very moment to everyone.
The official made a few notes on a parchment and then insisted on shaking Harry's hand. "This is indeed a glorious day, Mr. Potter! People in our world will tell your story forever."
Harry waited until the man was gone to let out a laugh that was so sharp it could cut anyone standing close enough. "Yeah. The great story of Harry Potter." He didn't even see the way Ron and Hermione cringed at that. "None of the great tales have a happy ending, now do they?"
How the hell could anyone suggest his actions were heroic now that they were on a fast track towards death and destruction, and one of his oldest friends had just disappeared? It was so wrong he didn't have words to describe the wrongness.
He didn't want to be remembered, to become another Godric Gryffindor. It would suit him perfectly if no one even remembered his name in ten years. Maybe becoming a legend was someone's dream, but it definitely wasn't his. All he wanted was to live in peace.
Needing to get away from this, Harry retreated to the corner with his broom, going through the motions of clearing the twigs even though they weren't even ruffled. The others from his team joined him soon after, followed by Ron, Hermione and Blaise who were talking quietly about something Hermione had read.
Harry listened to the others half heartedly, smiling just a little as he heard some of his old team mates ribbing Malfoy. It sounded nice, like something they might have said to any other player back when it was all about Quidditch, and Malfoy's response was equally light.
Some of the banter sounded forced at first, but they were soon enough bickering with gusto.
It was easier to concentrate on this as if it was nothing more than a preparation for a game. Whatever idiocies of fame and fortune others might sprout sounded as inviting as the horrible slavery Voldemort handed out as a prize to those foolish enough to follow him.
Maybe a gilded cage, but it still had bars that would hold you prisoner.
He sighed. Wishing people wouldn't focus on him was rather stupid considering he had just made the announcement they had probably all waited for.
"You okay?" Sliding into the empty chair next to Harry's, Ron nudged him.
Harry just stared at him.
"Oh. Yeah, stupid question." Ron shrugged. "Sorry. I just mean... I know what you're doing and being a friend here, you know?"
"It's okay. And thanks." Not that it changed anything, but Harry was still glad Ron was trying. He had to be just as upset with the thing with Neville as he was.
"So... Now we have a plan." It wasn't a question. "Like a plan that actually works?"
"Yeah."
"Mm hmm." Ron nodded, trying to look like he actually knew what was going on.
Harry looked into the distance as if he was trying to see something that was beyond his grasp. "One day, people far smarter than I will look back and analyse our actions here. They'll probably see exactly what we did wrong and what should have been done instead. But..." He shrugged, gaze focusing on Ron again. "Right now, I can't think of anything I could have really done better."
"Yeah." There was nothing Ron could really say to that.
"I mean, challenging Voldemort years ago would have got one of us dead, most likely me, but Dumbledore was right. It's not enough to get rid of him anymore. If I die..."
Ron flinched, hand moving to his wand. "Don't say that!" The mere thought was making his skin tingle unpleasantly.
"It's a possibility, Ron," Harry said. "Whatever happens to me, you'll all still fight to defeat the Death Eaters. It's not about him and me, it's about us and them."
It sounded unlikely to Ron. Surely their world would collapse if Harry... was lost now. He tried to imagine his father leading the troops with Dumbledore by his side, and to his astonishment it didn't seem as ridiculous as he'd thought.
Maybe they had all been changed by this.
"You don't think Voldemort will accept your challenge? Like... there will be no duel." Ron didn't know enough about the Dark Lord to make a guess either way, but somehow it didn't seem like he would abandon his plans and meet Harry alone somewhere.
Harry cocked his head, as if weighing whether to tell the whole truth or not. "No, I don't think he'll accept this challenge or come alone. I don't think he'll wait until I make it really official." He paused for a moment, the cold hard look creeping back into his eyes. "But I don't know if this war can ever really end without some kind of a confontation between the two of us." The smile on his lips wasn't amused. "That's what everyone wants, right? The great hero and the great villain meeting alone."
As always, Ron shivered at Harry saying things like that about himself, but he couldn't really say he was wrong. "And you think this will work?" He asked. "I mean, I get the whole thing with us picking a fight and the challenge at the waning moon and all that crap, but... How can we be sure they'll really come?"
Casting a brief look at professor Trelawney who was sipping her tea on the other side of the room, Harry wondered if they should indeed have Snape brew a potion that would make her actually prove she could handle real Divinations. It was morally ambiguous, but extremely tempting.
"It will work. The Death Eaters will come."
Harry jumped, and then turned to look at Blaise who was smiling slightly, his blind eyes focused on nothing at all. "Are you sure?" He could remember the Slytherin's weird behavior from weeks back, but was still reluctant to believe he had the Sight.
"Yes." Blaise nodded, his unseeing gaze suddenly on Harry. "The Death Eaters will come."
The certainty in his voice was so compelling that Harry knew without doubts that their long wait was finally over.
Part 23 Harry couldn't help wishing he could grab a time turner and go back an hour or two just so that he could have a moment for himself and his thoughts.
All the long weeks of planning were coming to this; a few simple words from him that were more efficient in goading Voldemort into a fight than destroying his ancestral home. He'd known it for a long while that when the time arrived, they would have to move quickly. In a way it was the relief he'd expected.
Leaning his forehead against the window, he tried to tell himself that the feeling he was experiencing really was relief and not nausea.
It was all in place now, and the Death Eaters would come. They had all known that, some for weeks, some had known for years, and it had only been the question of when.
Now they knew.
Soon, the sun would set, revealing the darkness of the moonless night. It heralded the time of darker magic, the darkening time of the year only boosted that image, and Harry knew that with the challenge and the Ministry's evacuation to Hogsmeade, Voldemort could not stall anymore.
"Red caps... red caps... I can't remember how to destroy them!" Muttering frantically, Hermione grabbed another book, browsing through it with panic evident in every move. "Oh for... Who cares about red caps? I'm forgetting something important! Occamy!"
Harry listened to her mumble to herself, finding her last moment reading almost relaxing. It had been like this every time they had an exam; Hermione panicking even though she knew all the books by heart.
The fact that she was now hyperventilating and reaching out for yet another book was familiar, just like Ron's idle lazeing with a fizzy drink and a chunk of chocolate in front of him on the table.
They all dealt with the waiting their own way.
Sighing, Harry turned around to face the room. They wouldn't have to wait for long now that they knew the Death Eaters were coming.
He didn't want to stand here and contemplate anymore; things had moved so far from the realm of what ifs that he could just sit back and do nothing and it wouldn't change a thing. They had made all the preparations just the way they had planned ages ago.
"I think I'll go to bed." Ron stood up, ignoring the chocolate on the table. He looked slightly green, as if the idea of sitting here and drowning his worries in sweets was making him sick.
"Good idea." Nodding slightly, Harry added, "See you in the morning."
His words made Ron look even greener. "Yeah, right..." Ron took a few steps towards the door, and then stopped, glancing at Malfoy. "So, you coming or not?"
Draco had been busying with his broom, fussing over it unnecessarily as if any action was better than waiting. He looked a bit surprised at the invitation, but simply nodded, resting his broom against the wall and then joining Weasley on his way up.
No one in the living room said a word.
Harry could see that the others were ready to leave as well, Sirius leaning his head against Remus' shoulder, muttering soft words that would soon turn into caresses and Hermione gathering a few books to take to her bedroom.
He waited in silence as they got ready to leave the room, nodding his good nights and hugging Sirius tight. Then he was left alone, staring into the few candles Hermione had lit -- more out of habit than any real need -- for a moment before extinguishing the flames.
It had been a long day, and the evening had felt even longer with all the unsaid things hanging between them. Fortunately no one had been willing to talk about the fact that this could be the last evening they spent together like this, everyone concentrating on the moment.
Harry hadn't been surprised when Snape hadn't stayed, preferring to finish with his potions before retiring for the night.
Probably hoping that would avoid him from being a part of any emotional outbursts.
Sighing, Harry finally turned away from the fireplace and walked upstairs, his feet feeling heavy. Maybe it had been good Snape had chosen not to join the somber group in the living room. That way no one had been tempted to relieve the tension with angry words. Harry doubted anyone would have wanted to get into a fight tonight, thought. They all knew there'd be plenty of that tomorrow.
The bathroom door was slightly ajar, showing that there was no one else. Not that Harry had expected anyone to linger with their ablutions, especially since the sounds coming from behind Ron's door told him that both he and Draco were busy with something else.
He didn't waste extra time on his evening routines either.
Snape was already sitting on the bed, a towel in his lap as he was working a familiar looking potion on his skin, covering his Dark Mark with a wince. "Potter."
Squinting his eyes with suspicion, Harry wondered if Snape had accidentally scrubbed the remains of the barrier potion off earlier or if he had tried to confirm the thing Blaise Zabini had already stated. It would be so like Snape to trust no one with things that really mattered.
He had no idea how the link between Snape and the Dark Lord worked, and was pretty sure he didn't want to know.
"Maybe after tomorrow you won't need that anymore," he muttered quietly, gesturing at the bottle half full of the green salve sitting on the table.
Snape refused to comment on the stupidity of Harry's words. They had always intended to throw everything they had at Voldemort on the day of the battle, and if they failed to defeat him tomorrow, it was most likely it meant the Dark Lord won. One way or the other, he would never have to use the barrier potion shielding the Dark Mark again; the potion would either become redundant or he would be dead.
He wasn't going to say that out loud either, unwilling to approach the subject of his own mortality, knowing all too well how Harry would react to such musings. "Maybe."
"They really are coming."
"Yes."
Harry nodded. No one had really doubted it, not when Blaise had said it, not when the long-eared owl had arrived bringing news from Hagrid about strange weather phenomena preventing traveling, not when the small attacks had stopped as if all the Death Eaters had vanished somewhere.
Most likely gathering in their stronghold, just like people had been moving to Hogwarts the past two days.
He walked quietly to sit next to Snape. Waiting until he was finished with the potion, he leaned against him, needing the contact.
Neither said a word as Snape wrapped an arm around his shoulder and pulled him closer. They simply sat there for a long time.
It was getting darker outside, even though it was still bright enough to see without a magical light or candles. Yawning, Harry toed his socks off and then squirmed out of his robes before crawling under the blankets.
He smiled slightly as Snape cast a pointed look at the clothes he'd abandoned on the floor before standing up and slowly undressing himself.
"Snape?" Harry didn't know why this felt even more difficult than that first time he'd ever really talked to Snape about things. They hadn't been lovers then, not even friends -- mutual hate was probably the best way to describe what they shared -- and still he didn't know how to say this. "May I ask you something?"
Knowing all too well that this would be something very emotional, Snape suppressed a sigh and nodded curtly. He had been expecting something like this, and the fact that Harry was asking him in private and not in front of others was a small blessing.
"What do you want to do afterwards? I mean... After. If we survive." It was something Harry hadn't dared to ask before. He barely managed to think about the future himself, unable to really contemplate time he wouldn't have to worry about everything.
He usually just imagined a peaceful life, happily thinking about utter boredom.
Snape blinked. This wasn't what he'd expected. He couldn't answer it right away, pondering the matter as he folded his robes over a chair. For years now, life had been about fighting Voldemort and trying to defeat him. He had no hopes or dreams beyond that.
Surviving? It had always been about that, even when he'd risked his life for their cause he'd never taken unnecessary chances. Not before Harry Potter had wormed his way to his life anyway. How absurd he had never considered this; had never believed he really deserved a life after the battles against the Death Eaters.
"I don't know."
The perfect life had always meant the small rooms in the Slytherin dungeons. He knew Albus would take him back if they survived the war and that he could resume his position as the Potions professor and live the rest of his life in Hogwarts, terrifying children and brewing his potions in peace.
He realized the thought wasn't as pleasing as he might have imagined.
It was strange to contemplate the future like this. "I guess... It would be a good time to retire." No more children to herd, no more idiots to teach. That would certainly be wonderful. "I could find a small house somewhere far away from people."
The cottage they had stayed in didn't seem too far from his dream.
He didn't want to spend a lot of energy imagining a future that might not be, but the possibility of concentrating on new potions and maybe even tutoring those who weren't completely inept in his line of work was exhilarating. His life that he would choose for himself, not something he had to do out of duty. It was almost too much to even contemplate.
Harry closed his eyes. Peace and quiet sounded like bliss to him. "That sounds perfect." His chest ached with dozens of things he wanted to ask, but his throat couldn't squeeze out the words.
He didn't want to look at Snape. It was better just to lie here and imagine for just a little while that they were actually planning a future together.
"No, Potter, that's a simple thought. Perfection would require house elves there to take care of the mess you'd undoubtedly create."
Opening his eyes in shock, Harry could only stare. Then he had to blink hard. "Oh."
There was nothing on Snape's face to indicate he even acknowledged the enormity of what he had just said, but Harry was sure he hadn't just said that out loud to please him, or as an unconscious comment about Harry's robes on the floor.
While Snape's expression was unreadable, his gaze was open, shining with a myriad of emotions, none of which were malicious. There was barely even sarcasm to be seen.
Harry smiled a bit wobbly, his throat squeezing shut, and it was a relief to have Snape take that step forward and tilt Harry's jaw so that he could easily kiss him. It was a gentle brush of lips that left Harry breathless.
It was always unwise to make assumptions like this, but Snape was certain of the one he'd just made. Harry had made it all too clear more than once that he wanted this, and considered -- or at least hoped -- their arrangement was permanent.
He'd been right when he'd thought all this was far from being innocent and harmless. No matter how foolishly Gryffindor Harry was with his straightforwardness, the things were far more dangerous than any games Snape had ever played.
"I'd like that," Harry managed to whisper. "I'd like that a lot." Images of sharing such a simple life with Snape filled his mind, full of memories from their stay at the cottage, where it had been so easy to just be and maybe do some chores and forget all about the world that hungered for his presence.
It was better than anything he could dream of.
"Yes, maybe then I would actually find my socks," Snape muttered, gesturing at his bare feet as if to remind Harry of the earlier discussion about laundry.
He slid between the sheets, trying to find a comfortable position even as Harry wriggled closer to him as usual, smirking as Harry let out a loud yelp as their feet collided.
"Cold feet!" Harry muttered, knowing all too well that Snape wasn't at all sympathetic to his complaints.
Letting out a snort, Snape endured the squirming and protests and waited for Harry to settle down and melt against him as he did every single night.
Snape wasn't certain what made this so addictive. It wasn't the way Harry touched him or arched against him, naked and needing more. It wasn't the frantic blur of torn robes and drive towards completion.
Snuggling even closer to him, Harry kissed his neck and then made snuffling sounds, burying his nose to his skin.
There was no need for anything more, the silent evening lulling both into mellow drowsiness.
Snape's hand pushed its way beneath Harry's T-shirt, making slow, lazy circles on his back. He liked the simple touch, enjoying the pleased murmurs from Harry as well.
This was like most things with Harry; an embrace he offered willingly, even eagerly, not lying to himself about its purpose anymore. It wasn't necessary to think about things he could give to Harry. He shared the pleasure of this simple touch.
Harry tightened his arm around Snape.
He didn't want to think beyond this moment, not even to fantasize about the future. He definitely didn't want to think of this as goodbye.
Murmuring a few soft sounds that formed no real words, he pressed a kiss against Snape's skin again, not wanting to blurt out any emotional phrases or promises.
He doubted they could really add to this moment.
Harry felt a soft brush of lips against his temple and smiled. "Is this Slytherin emotionalism?" he murmured quietly, unable to resist teasing Snape.
"I do hope so. It would be extremely disappointing to have your idiotic traits to start rubbing off on me." Snape's voice was too mellow for the words, but he didn't seem to care about that now. "Go to sleep."
"Okay." It wouldn't be that simple, but Harry didn't want to waste any more time on words that in the end meant nothing.
He rested his head on Snape's shoulder, relaxing even more under his touch, smiling as Snape's hand slowly moved across his back.
Tomorrow would dawn soon enough, even though nighttime hadn't really fallen yet. Everywhere in Hogsmeade, people were now getting ready to fight, some going through strategies and plans one last time, some simply enjoying the presence of their loved ones.
There had been other fights, other battles, but inside, Harry knew this would be the battle. Hopefully the last one. They would not surrender, would not stop until Voldemort was defeated for good.
People would die. It was quite probable that he would die as well, and though facing the Dark Lord was the most dangerous thing he could think of, going to the Malfoy Mansion wouldn't be much safer.
It was far worse to think about that than it was to think about dying himself.
Harry listened to Snape breathe, refusing to waste this moment on contemplating death. This was yet again one of those good moments, perfection that would be etched in his mind for as long as he would live. It could be only a matter of hours, it could be for decades, but this one moment would remain there.
He liked the idea; it was almost like the happy ending everyone always wanted, even though the endings in life were rarely happy. Inside this room he had everything he could ever desire and for someone who'd never got what he really wanted, that was happiness beyond measure.
Determined to hold onto it for a while longer, he closed his eyes.
Part 24 Harry was awake at the brink of dawn.
He squeezed his eyes shut after one glance at the window. It wasn't bright enough for him to get up, but he didn't feel sleepy anymore. Maybe it would be the best for him to just lie here and enjoy the soft sounds of Snape breathing.
Realization hit him a moment later, driving all thoughts of relaxation out of his mind.
This was the day they had all been waiting for. The sunrise was a sign, the dawn of the battle. All the preparations they had made, all the years they had plotted and planned and suffered had led them to this day.
His first thought was to crawl under the blankets and never come out again, but after a few breaths he let go of the panic, knowing that while it was normal, it wouldn't change anything.
He was going to have to get up and do his duty, so that maybe some day soon he would have the luxury of spending the whole day in bed without worrying about the Order or their world or anything.
Sighing, he pushed the blankets away, only then noticing that Snape was awake as well. "Morning."
"Yes, it is." Not bothering with the niceties, Snape sat up. "We should get ready."
Harry nodded, knowing that any other words would simply make him want to stay in bed for longer. "Yeah."
They went through their morning routines quietly, sharing the bathroom under the pretense of saving time, neither commenting on the quiet companionship. Harry finished his ablutions first, dressing up and then waiting for Snape as the man spread the familiar potion on his Dark Mark, hopefully for the last time.
The others were already up, and Sirius and Remus were getting ready to leave with Hermione, their operation the first action planned for the day.
Harry half wished they had left already, wondering just how many teary goodbyes he could deal with today. He was pleasantly surprised when Sirius enfolded him into a bear hug, followed by a few pats in the back and his eternal Gryffindor optimism as he muttered, "We'll deal with the creepy crawlies and then come and watch you kick Voldemort's arse."
After a few similar words from both Remus and Hermione, Harry padded into the kitchen, not wishing to watch them leave.
Sirius' false cheer dropped from his face immediately.
"So are we ready?" Looking from Sirius to Hermione, Remus finally gestured at the door. "Let's go then." There was nothing more to do, really.
"I'm ready," Hermione muttered, tucking the slim Scamander book into her pocket just in case she needed it.
"Snape." Barking the name out, Sirius looked at the man from the doorway, ignoring the worried looks Remus was casting at him. "Wait a moment."
Snape raised an eyebrow, wondering what on earth would the mutt have to say to him.
Sirius stared at Snape, for once his gaze devoid of the smallest hint of resentment. "If I don't come back, make sure he will be all right." It was half a plea, half a command.
"Of course."
Taking a deep breath, Sirius nodded. That would be good enough. He knew that Snape was a complete bastard, but for some reason he could be trusted with this. "But if I do come back..." His voice deepened into a growl.
"You will still hate me as much as ever. Yes, Black, that is quite obvious and the feeling is completely mutual." Snape sneered. In time, he might be able to tolerate the mutt's presence, but the truth was that the less time they spent in the same village the better.
He turned away, not watching the three Gryffindors leave.
No one seemed to have any appetite that morning -- even Ron who had slept longer than usual was just nibbling his toast -- but they all ate anyway, not knowing when they might have the chance to eat the next time. No one mentioned the fact that this might be their last meal either.
Everyone in Hogsmeade seemed to be ready, people milling around in the streets, waiting. When Harry and his friends finally emerged from their house, no one said a word, but it was clear what they had been waiting for. United, the army of Aurors and the Order of the Phoenix made their way towards Hogwarts.
Eppy and Bob stood at the doorway, watching the witches and wizards pass by.
There was a crowd waiting at the Great Hall, the professors getting ready to join the fight. Small groups were forming here and there; the different task forces preparing to leave as soon as everyone was present.
Arabella Figg nodded briefly at Harry before going to Snape, her face grim. Everyone knew that their mission to the Malfoy Mansion would be the most dangerous assignment, not counting the main force staying to defend Hogwarts of course.
Harry simply nodded back at her.
This was it. Funny how he felt none of the things he'd always thought he would as he watched people get ready for the fight. His mind was filled with a strange combination of exhilaration, relief and utter terror, forming a loop that didn't allow any emotion to gain dominance over the others.
He looked at his friends, smiling a little as he saw Draco adjust his flying robes. Still a Slytherin to the core, his new black robes lined with silver and green, looking perfectly groomed even now.
Next to him, Ron was pulling off one of his boots and wriggling his toes, looking really pale. Harry sighed. He wished he could be there with his friends, but knew that in the end, he'd just be in the way in the melee. It was best to stay out of the crossfire and look for his real enemy, no matter how uncomfortable the idea felt.
Flying was what he did best.
Harry watched Parvati Patil tie her long hair into a ponytail. It was a good precaution; even Draco had combed his hair back again, the hairgel making it look like a slick blond helmet covering his head.
Of course Snape's only concession to the situation was to push some of the greasy locks behind his ears.
"Are you ready?" Finishing with his robes, Draco looked at Harry. "We should get in the air before the Death Eaters arrive." His voice was tight. Somewhere amongst the masked figures was his own father, surrounded by people Draco had known all his life.
Fastening the gloves tight, Harry nodded. What else could he do; say that he would probably never be ready for this and would prefer to run and hide?
He wasn't even sure that was true anymore.
"Good." Draco brushed his hand down his front, adjusting the robes one more time. Then he grabbed his broom. Most of their small team was already outside, waiting for them to join them. There was really nothing left for him here.
Except for one thing.
The broom clattered against the flagstones as Draco twirled around. Weasley didn't even seem surprised by the sudden movement and allowed himself to be pulled into a fierce embrace. It felt as natural as breathing, the slender figure against him, the strong hands holding him tight. Both knew that everyone was watching, but neither really cared. If someone wanted to make comments about them, they could just go ahead.
There was an eerie silence in the room.
Ron let everything else fade away as Malfoy's hand touched the back of his head and guided him into a hungry kiss. He was terrified of what lay ahead, suddenly realizing this could well be the last time for everything.
What a stupid moment to admit to himself that maybe he really didn't hate Draco Malfoy anymore. That maybe shagging and fighting and then shagging again sounded better than dying or losing people he didn't hate. He still didn't like Malfoy, but damn it, he didn't want to see him dead!
And he definitely didn't want to lose his own life either.
Closing his eyes, Draco let his lips move against Weasley's, devouring his mouth. Then he let go, stepping back before the need to melt against Weasley could override his mind. "Accio Nimbus!"
As soon as the broom jumped to his hand, he turned around and walked out of the Great Hall without looking back.
Leaving Ron stare after him with a tight expression on his face.
It took a moment for everyone standing nearby to shake off the shock and continue with their preparations. Bill Weasley was muttering softly from under his breath as he shoved his wand into the holster on his belt, his expression telling everyone that he was definitely going to have a long discussion with his little brother later on.
"What a lovely display."
Harry smiled a little at the dry voice. He didn't need to look up to know that Snape was standing right next to him. "Yes. I thought so too." The snort that his words produced was exactly what he'd expected. "Is your group ready?"
"Yes. They're ready to leave." Snape nodded.
The panic flooding over Harry was unexpected. He'd thought he would be able to deal with this, considering how calm he'd felt all day, but now that the time to go was finally here, he realized he was far from ready. Then as soon as the terror had come, it was gone, buried beneath the knowledge that ready or not, this had to be done now. Only after defeating Voldemort could there ever be the peace he so desperately craved.
"Then you go in there, take care of the business and get out of there. Burn the place down if you have to, just make sure there will be nothing there to aid Voldemort's people ever again." He was glad Draco wasn't there to hear him say it.
There was another nod.
Harry didn't know what else to say; all the platitudes he could come up with sounded stupid and anything personal would surely choke him.
"Harry." It came out calmly. Only the fire in the dark gaze told about Snape's inner turmoil.
Swallowing down the wobbly grin that threatened to spread on his face, Harry raised an eyebrow. "Yes?" He knew there wouldn't be any earth shattering goodbyes, not in public, but damn it, Snape could have chosen another moment to call him by his first name.
Snape stared at him for a moment, then raised his hand to touch Harry's arm, a quick brush of fingers against the thick flying robes. "Don't get killed."
He resented leaving Harry like this; the idiot would be in more danger than ever and he wouldn't be there to protect him.
"I'll try not to," Harry said.
"Good." It was really all Snape could ask.
Harry looked at Snape, knowing all too well that this could be the last time he ever saw the man. All the things they had said last night, all the unsaid promises, and there was still so much he wanted Snape to know. So many things he wanted to do or say and now time had ran out and all they had was this. "Snape, I..."
He couldn't finish the sentence, already losing the grip he had on all his emotions, the ache and the nervous clenching in his stomach driving the calm away.
He couldn't do this now.
"Go!" Drawing the detachment around himself like a cloak, Harry copied Snape's gesture, his fingers brushing against Snape's sleeve. "I'll see you when this is all over."
This was not the time for confessions. He wished there would be a chance to make them later on, when it really would be over and he wouldn't have to think about fighting and dying.
There were no other words, no other touches. With one last look, Snape turned around, his robes billowing. Harry refused to watch him go, fearing he couldn't just let him walk away if he did.
People were leaving. The small groups that were to attack the stronger manors and mansions around their world were gathering outside, letting portkeys hurl them to their destinations. Those who would spread out on the grounds or go to the Forbidden Forest were already on their way, those who would stay closer to the castle and protect it with their lives were saying their goodbyes.
Harry walked slowly through the corridors, gazing at the empty paintings on the walls. Everyone was gone. The people in the paintings and the ghosts had all traveled to places where they could see outside, crowding the windowed areas.
He could hear the sound of children running and laughing somewhere deep inside the castle, and wondered if his mind was playing tricks on him. There should be no one here yet, the school term starting weeks from now. If the school still stood then.
Steeling himself against the need to go and check it out, Harry went on towards the main entry. The school was still Dumbledore's responsibility.
The world outside was his.
Right inside the great doors leading to the courtyard stood a man with a small form of a fluffy cat sitting next to him. He was holding a pitchfork.
Harry said nothing as he passed him by, barely noticing the glare Filch cast at him. Yes. Everyone was ready.
The purebloods, the Muggleborns, the Squibs. The members of the Order standing side by side with Aurors, the professors with youngsters who had barely finished school. All of them making a stand here, at the heart of their world.
They would all die before they let Voldemort take over. Everyone knew that, most probably trying very hard not to think about the fact that the battle would indeed claim lives. Still, they were standing here, standing and fighting. No one would ever again have to face these horrors if they succeeded in their task of ridding the world of the Dark Lord and his followers.
Harry took a deep breath. All the games and the playacting had grated on his nerves for months, but this here, this group of people getting ready to defend their world, this was right. It wasn't about one man being a hero, it was about all of them doing what they had to do.
That was the one thought he held on to as his steps carried him over the threshold, out of Hogwarts and its protective walls into the battlefield.
Outside, the sun was almost reaching its zenith.
It was a beautiful day.
Part 25 "Harry."
"Harry Potter!"
Nodding to everyone who called out his name, Harry walked to the small group standing with their brooms ready. The gesture was instinctive and needed no extra thought.
This time the greetings and the attention weren't unfounded; they were really standing here as his army and he was going to lead them into battle. No matter how many people called out his name, he acknowledged them and then moved on.
Draco Malfoy grinned at him, his expression strangely feral. "Harry." There was the slightest incline of his head.
Harry responded in kind. "Draco." He stopped for a moment to clasp the offered hand, needing this brief moment of contact.
He spent a similar moment with everyone in his group of the 'wizarding air force', saying back names no matter how he was called. Most of the people called him Harry or Potter, but to the Gryffindors, he was 'captain'. The smiles accompanying the title were just as feral as Draco's had been.
The smile on Harry's lips was probably the same.
Stepping in front of George who was adjusting the gloves the same way both he and his twin had always fussed with them before a game, he nodded at him in greeting before saying quietly, "Be careful out there. No unnecessary heroics."
"Wouldn't dream of anything like that." The smirk on George's face was full of mischief. "No, sir!"
Harry shook his head, clasping his hand on George's shoulder. "I mean it. No stupid stunts out there, guys. Both of you." Seeing the way George's eyes widened at that, he added. "Do I make myself clear?"
Not even bothering to hide his amazement, George nodded. "Yeah. We'll be careful. You got my word for it. Wouldn't want to disappoint mum by killing us both."
"Good." Squeezing slightly with his hand before letting go of his friend, Harry turned his back to George and then moved to exchange a few words with Oliver Wood.
When they were finished with the final greetings, Harry made a small gesture, and they all mounted their brooms. Without really thinking about it, they had already taken the group formation on the ground, ready to start flying together.
Without a word, Harry kicked himself up in the air.
Everything was so much more coherent from up high, and Harry could see clearly the different parts of the army moving around the grounds. Those who were still lingering close to the castle stared at him, and he wondered if they expected him to say something. Maybe give a speech of the importance of this day of all days and remind them of what they were fighting for.
Act like their great hero and cheer them all.
As much as he thought that they all deserved to have a good leader, someone who could inspire them to do great things, there were no words. He couldn't think of anything uplifting or heroic to say. Didn't know how to take away peoples' fear for he was scared as hell himself.
Harry looked at his airborne taskforce, meeting somber gazes and knowing they felt just like he did. "Let's make sure this really is the final battle."
He wasn't prepared with the way his voice thundered with the force of a sonorus, just as he wasn't prepared for the strong gust of wind that lifted him higher in the sky than he'd planned to fly. For a moment he raised above Hogwarts, circling the Gryffindor Tower before retaking his position as the leader of their flying squadron.
His robes fluttered wildly in the wind like a banner.
Down on the ground, people cheered at the sight, calling out his name and waving their wands in the air.
Ignoring the slight annoyance he felt at the clearly magical wind and the old man who had so obviously conjured it up, Harry set his gaze on the horizon and then started the journey towards the gates as if he'd just spotted the Snitch there.
Determined, with nothing else in the whole world to distract him from his goal.
They were so used to the waiting, it was almost unreal when Madam Hooch called out, "I think I can see them!"
Even after Blaise's prophetic words and the assurances that Voldemort would indeed have no choice but to attack, Harry had to swallow as he saw the Death Eaters in the horizon.
Wiping her sweaty palms on her robes one by one, Angelina stared into the distance. "I didn't realize there'd be so many of them..."
Harry kept his gaze on the horizon as well, knowing that it was no illusion. The Death Eaters were really a small army now, their number probably about as great as the joined forces standing against them. Even more, the masks and the robes and the occasional scythe he could see even from here gave the Death Eaters the advance of fear.
"All right then. Let's head back. Break the formation!" Harry called out, his hand repeating his orders in the silent gestures as if this was indeed a game.
His troops followed his order immediately.
Hermione raised a handkerchief to her face, trying to keep from coughing even as the acrid smoke made her eyes burn.
"Are you all right?"
Nodding at Remus' question, she finished with her incantation and released yet another charm at the warehouse filled with jars and bundles of dead creatures. The place was somewhat fire resistant, and it took all her concentration to make the fire charms work.
She was just glad she'd been appointed to this task instead of actually going after the living creatures.
There had been relatively little actual fighting, with only a few wizards left to defend the compound. Most had been getting ready with carts and carriages filled with barrels full of something that had exploded with the first fire charms, leaving only one masked Death Eater to try to ward the Order away.
Hermione had been there to see him fall.
Some of the huge pens had been empty, but there were still dark creatures caged in the compound, and Hermione didn't ask Remus what was happening to them. She knew some of them were at least half sentient, and no matter how she told herself this was war, she didn't want to know.
"We're almost finished here," Sirius yelled as he approached them, coughing at the smoke. It was fairly obvious why he wasn't in his Animagus form.
Remus wiped a hand over his sooty brow and nodded. "Yes. After we're certain we've destroyed everything, we should get back to Hogwarts!"
Muttering out another fire charm, ignoring the high pitched squeal that came from somewhere inside one of the warehouses, Hermione tried not to think about the fact that this was only the beginning.
Now that the waiting was finally over, it was all too clear what they would do.
Harry swept over the yard, dismayed by the completely inappropriate exhilaration that always accompanied him when he was flying. The familiar landmarks could almost make this feel like a Quidditch match, though now his gaze was trained on larger targets than the snitch, the silent figure next to him an ally and not an adversary.
It was strange; three Seekers in the air together, forming a small group that was followed by others. He kept his gaze down on the ground, trying to concentrate on the fight even as his instincts were screaming to him about Draco hovering somewhere to his left and Laura Madley flying right behind him.
There had been a moment of hesitation, an oppressive feeling in the very air he was soaring through, as the first attack had come, aimed at the protective barriers guarding the school.
Then it had become easier to breathe again, as the wards around Hogwarts grounds had failed, Voldemort's first victory won hard enough to actually seem like real work instead of Dumbledore letting go and then allowing the dark robed masses to swarm through the gates.
Green sparks erupted here and there below, as the most eager Death Eaters flung the death curse without hesitations. Most of the Order members seemed to work on less malevolent curses, but there were those who were answering darkness with darkness, and they weren't all older Aurors who had already seen too much death.
Standing next to the main entrance of Hogwarts, side by side with the Headmaster, professor McGonagall was holding her ground, her blue gaze burning with rage as she aimed curses at the small group of Death Eaters who had somehow managed to get past all the wards and were now trying to invade the castle itself.
Harry shivered as he saw her fling the familiar hex at the approaching Death Eater, dropping the masked figure with two simple words.
He remembered what Snape had said about rescuing her from the Malfoy Mansion and how she had used non lethal force to subdue her torturers. There was no sign of such consideration now.
"Avada Kedavra!" Her voice rang cool over the distance, as if she was chastising a student who was late from class.
Harry couldn't really blame her.
Seeing that everything was going more or less as planned, he flew higher, dodging a few stray curses flung at him. He couldn't get involved with the fighting yet, no matter how a part of him was screaming at him to get down there and do something. His job was to aid and assist if he could and keep an eye on the Death Eaters so he could find his real foe.
It would be so much easier if he still had his Invisibility Cloak and he could just fly around as he pleased and try to target Voldemort without the risk of being killed. Then the stray thought was gone as quickly as it had appeared.
He'd totally forgotten about the whole cloak, and it was now too late to do anything about it. He couldn't focus on what he couldn't change right now. Gaze sweeping over the mayhem down below, he tried to spot Voldemort, hoping it would all be over soon.
That would be the real battle, even though the larger one was probably just as important for the safety of their world. But him facing Voldemort would be the chance to end this all for good, that was his part in all this, like it was for some to stand firm on the ground and for others to destroy the Dark Lord's strongholds.
No matter what happened afterwards, that wouldn't be of his concern. This was the fight he intended to win, and the rest was someone else's problem.
Swooping down in a graceful arch, he almost laughed out loud. How insane was it to think of something like that right now?
Then again, there were probably more insane things in the world.
Since most of the people on his team were members of the Order, Snape had no problems ordering them to spread out across the Mansion. His curt words about secret cupboards and vaults weren't questioned; even the few Aurors went where he directed.
It was highly satisfying.
They had to hurry to secure the place, for who knew just when the first Death Eaters tucked tail and ran from the battlefield. Snape sent the least experienced witches and wizards to herd out the house elves and some of the Aurors to place Narcissa Malfoy under arrest. He didn't want to be forced to kill Draco's mother, remembering how she had never been an enemy, not during their school years, or the dark nightmare following them.
Waving the young Order members who were hovering behind him to go and check the library and the huge ballroom, Snape took a detour to the small sitting room before he could go to see the place he knew the best.
Some things were too private to be handed to others. Snape had to fight the urge to look over his shoulder as he walked to the chest hidden in plain sight and then poured acidic potion over the documents inside without bothering to take a look.
He was destroying the evidence of a past he wished he could evaporate as easily, not hesitating for a moment. Nothing good would come to those who might survive and even repent their actions if the parchments were ever found by the Ministry.
It wasn't merely self defense; he was protecting his Slytherins as well.
A soft whisper of a sound from the doorway made Snape retreat to the shadows. The heavy velvet curtains offered a good place to hide.
He watched quietly as a barely visible human form slipped into the room with only a soft rustling of expensive robes heralding its approach.
There had been a time when he had known every single person who might have appeared in this house from the way they walked, the tilt of the head, the scent. Small gestures under the hooded robes and the masks screamed out identities better than anything.
Sense memory kicked in as the newcomer closed the door, the gust of air sending a hint of a familiar fragrance towards Snape. One of his old concoctions, the expensive ingredients a proof it was made for only one person, the function of the potion no more sinister than a simple perfume.
He held his wand tighter and stepped away from the shadows. He knew exactly who this was and couldn't hex her from behind.
"Narcissa." Snape greeted the blond woman with a curt nod.
The robed figure wavered for a moment before stilling. Turning around, Narcissa Malfoy smiled coldly. "I should have known they would send you here." Her posture was tense, but she wasn't holding her wand.
Snape remembered how she had always been the one to plot behind the scenes at school, using her mind to push others forward and then watch events unfold. If only Lucius and Voldemort hadn't been so eager to consider most women as a mere necessity to breed, Narcissa would have made a far more formidable enemy than her husband ever had.
"Have you come to kill me then?" Still not showing any sign of fear, Narcissa spread her arms a little. "Go ahead. We both know you will never take me alive to Azkaban."
"I'm not here for that. We came here for the house and you're simply a bonus." Snape didn't believe the faint shock spreading to Narcissa's face, the expression almost as calculated as that on Draco's face sometimes. "Don't. Don't force me to destroy both you and that portkey you're so innocently reaching for."
Narcissa stilled completely, her hand still too far from the vase she was trying to grab. "You always were too clever for your own good, Severus." Her gaze was cold. "What are you waiting for? I said you'll never take me alive."
There was a moment of silence as Snape stared at her. Then he shook his head. "I don't want to kill you, Narcissa."
It didn't convince her. "Oh really?" She squinted her eyes and searched his face for any signs of deception. Seeing he actually meant what he was saying, she let out an amused laughter. "Dear Merlin! Sentimentality always was your greatest flaw, Severus. You would spare me for old times' sake?"
"No. But I will spare you for the sake of your son. Remember him, Narcissa?"
Snape's words made her stop laughing.
There was a hint of regret on Narcissa Malfoy's face that disappeared a moment later. She nodded ever so slightly, as if really trying to remember the existence of her only child. "Like I said, Severus. You're a sentimental fool."
Snape knew what would happen next, but he made no movement to stop her. Keeping his wand pointed at her, he watched her spin around and grab the glass vase perched on the shelf.
He never knew if the sound of Draco's name he heard really came from Narcissa as she disappeared through the portkey or if it was simply a figment of his own imagination. He preferred thinking she had said it herself. It would be the one good memory he could ever offer the boy. If they both survived this.
Not bothering to stay for longer, Snape turned back to the door.
"Everything all right?" Arabella panted as she hurried towards Snape with a small group of the Order members in tow. "I thought I heard voices here."
Snape didn't have to think about it twice. "Just a house elf." The sneer on his face was perfectly formed. "There's nothing in here that would interest us. We should move on."
"Good. Let's go."
The small group of witches and wizards spread out, sneaking through the corridor with their wands drawn.
Floor by floor they searched through the Mansion. The Aurors concentrated on the vault they had found on the ground floor, others inspecting the upper floors.
Snape waited long enough to see that there would be no real problems facing the team and then went down to the basement. The two wizards and the witch following him seemed to almost swoon as they entered the dark corridor, feeling the dark magic all around them. He ignored the familiar feeling.
They still had a lot to do here.
Watching with satisfaction as the people following him actually recognized most of the wards around him, Snape left the three to work with the storage areas and went on alone. He knew what lay ahead and company would only hinder him now.
"Lumos." Not apprehensive about the dark, he still preferred lots of light around him in this place of all places where memories of death and suffering echoed in every footstep and his own past was tangible all around him. It was appropriate that this would be his part in this battle, and he was more than ready to destroy the evil that lingered here and make sure no one else would ever again have to face it.
Focusing a little too strongly on the people down below, Draco allowed himself to be drawn to a fight that had erupted between a group of some of the younger Order members and Death Eaters, noting only too late that his decision had pulled him away from the safety of the flying group.
He tried to fly away as soon as it was clear that their people could hold well against the Death Eaters, but then there had been others, stronger in magic, and he'd been forced to concentrate all his attention on staying alive.
"Fuck!" Apparently Weasley's crude vocabulary had rubbed off on Draco after all. He fought hard to hold his broom steady as the masked figure down below aimed more hexes at him.
Swearing didn't really help, but it did make him feel a bit better as his broom bucked as if it was alive and resented the one riding it.
Draco squeezed his thighs tighter together around the broom, his right hand trying to aim his wand even though it was almost impossible to really focus in the assault. The Death Eater down below was skilled, maybe too powerful for him.
Grinding his teeth together, Draco forced his broom to obey him, managing just barely to aim the next hex.
Before he could fling a curse at the masked man, the Death Eater pushed back his hood, revealing a shock of silver-blond hair with an arrogant practiced gesture.
"No..." It was just a whisper. Draco didn't let go of his wand, but he felt utterly nerveless anyway.
He had known this would happen. In his nightmares, he had faced the man on the battlefield over and over again. All those dreams had left him completely empty.
It felt even worse in reality.
His whole existence had been based on his family, the Malfoys, who had sent their sons to the first class taught by Salazar Slytherin when he and the other three had founded Hogwarts. Their blood had remained nearly pure throughout the centuries, dictating the traditions they followed with pride.
Nothing had ever mattered to him more than the family line; the unbroken chain uniting the first Malfoys to him. The line which would one day bind his children to the traditions as well. That was what had been taught to him, and he still believed in those teachings.
Blood meant everything.
Lucius Malfoy yelled, "Come on down, Draco. It's useless to fight." His tone was as haughty as ever.
Not bothering to reply, Draco flicked his wand and sent a well aimed cruciatus at his father. Whatever hesitation he'd felt earlier was now gone; his father had chosen his path, and so had he. His dreams had been filled with foolish emotionalism and subconscious memories from his childhood.
He wasn't that child anymore.
He was a Malfoy, proud of it. And he was not going to listen to someone who killed other purebloods because an insane Mudblood ordered him to.
Holding onto the anger that had been simmering inside ever since he'd fought Aurors who thought his name described sinister insanity, he pointed his wand at his father again.
The curse didn't make Lucius even flinch. He muttered something, the air around him shimmering. Then he raised his wand.
Draco knew what would come next. His father wouldn't waste his time now. Any other time, there would have been curses of pain and humiliation, the two lesser Unforgivables flung at him for hours until death came as a relief. This time, there would be two words and green sparks and with shock, Draco realized it was quite possible he wouldn't survive the next few seconds.
"Malfoy!"
Before he could curse his son, Lucius heard his name yelled at him. He turned around, smiling behind his mask as he saw who was calling out for him. Even though cold rage had replaced the vacant look in the man's eyes, he'd recognize the second hand robes and the carrot top anywhere. "Weasley."
Mouth going dry, Draco watched Arthur Weasley approach with his wand drawn. The usually so mild mannered man looked completely mad with rage.
He didn't hesitate for a second. "Crucio!" He pointed the curse at his father, not surprised when it didn't hit. But at least his actions were buying Weasley time. He cursed again, this time almost hitting the man below, forcing him to jump to the side. The polished mask fell from his face, making no sound as it landed on the grass.
Lucius Malfoy looked up, irritation clear on his face. "Draco!"
"Go to hell!" It felt so good to say that out loud, Draco yelled it again, accenting it with yet another curse.
From behind Lucius, a large man was running towards them, his robes askew and the mask on his face looking like it was going to fall any minute. "Lord Malfoy!" Agitated, he rushed towards his master.
Draco would have recognized Vince's father even without hearing his voice. The man had been following his father forever, like his son had shadowed him.
The duel between Arthur Weasley and his father was now raging fully, so Draco turned his attention to Crabbe, wondering if he would have to face his old friend next. Pushing away every thought of old friendships and regrets, he grabbed the handle of his broom tighter and focused on this new threat.
Hoping that rage and grief would win over arrogance in the fight between his father and Weasley's.
No real ghosts lingered in the Malfoy Mansion, but the shadows the small light cast on the walls seemed to paint the horrors from ages past for everyone to see.
Snape didn't spare one look at them, muttering out charms and sprinkling potions on the stone floor.
Clearing the basement was taking longer than he'd thought. Lucius had clearly moved some of his precious mementos from the vault to down here; to be used in obscure Death Eater rituals or to be kept safe.
No matter how long this took, Snape was determined to make certain he found every cache here. There would be no place for the surviving dark wizards to flee to.
The walls were trembling, as if the ancient mansion was trying to fight him away on its own. Snape walked faster, needing to get to the dungeon as fast as he could. He could feel the strength of the magic here, and knew it was probably only a matter of time before the whole building collapsed on him.
He didn't want to be here in the basement when that happened.
This was the last place to search. The Aurors and Figg were probably finished with the vault already. He would check out the last of the cells and then they would be on their way.
Water was dripping down from somewhere, the sound making it feel like there was someone here with him. Snape ignored the feeling, continuing his way down the corridor. The magical light from his wand didn't reach far, but there was plenty of light here anyway; the walls themselves glowed sickly green.
Snape saw the doorway where the remnants of the door still hung on the hinges, the splintered wood looking scarred. For a flash of a second he could remember walking out of the room with Minerva clinging to him, the smell of blood everywhere, the tingle from dark curses still hanging around him like a cloak. He pushed the memory away. That was all in the past, as were the other horrors he'd witnessed down here.
He would never have to come back here after this. No one would have to suffer here. With that firmly in mind, he hurried towards the end of the corridor.
Something made him glance at a closed doorway on his left. It was just a feeling, for there was no other sound but the dripping water.
There was someone there. He could feel it in his bones. A flick of his wand confirmed the feeling. There was definitely someone locked in the small room.
Not hesitating, Snape pushed at the door. When it didn't budge, he muttered out the charm to open it.
With a groaning protest, the door swung slowly open, revealing a small dark room. The air seemed to shimmer with malice and pain. Eyes already adjusting to the new darkness, Snape could see that there was indeed someone shackled to the wall.
Someone who was not moving, but as Snape stood there, he could hear a muffled sound of pain escaping the prisoner. Whoever it was, they were still alive.
He took a step closer, crossing the threshold.
The Mansion rumbled as if it truly was a living creature, the sound as frightening as a dragon's roar. Then the heavy stones came crumbling down, burying everything beneath them.
Remus let out a muffled curse as he stared at the edge of the forest. They had come back to Hogwarts grounds just in time to see the Death Eaters launch their main attack.
There were no troops here, just a few Aurors trying to keep everyone out of the Forbidden Forest, and it was quickly becoming clear that defending the place would fall to him and Sirius.
He could see Hermione grasp the idea as well, and no matter how much she had always disliked the training with real curses, there was no hesitation in her now.
Remus only wished he could find that strength inside as well.
"Look!" Hermione pointed at the group of Death Eaters battling with the Aurors. "I think they're going to run."
It was a relief of sorts. Remus didn't think it would be their job hunt every dark wizard down and kill them.
Then Sirius yelled out, "I can't believe it!" His voice was gravelly with a note of triumph in it.
Watching in horror, Remus realized that one of the men running towards the trees was familiar to him, his face hidden behind his hood but the almost cringing movements identifying him better than anything.
As the man looked behind to see if anyone was chasing them, Remus caught the look on his blotchy face, a part of his mind calmly assessing the horrified expression.
The sound coming from next to him wasn't even a curse anymore; it was way beyond any enraged exclamation or an outlet for magic. What started out as a call for the man they had once called a friend, a brother, turned into a bloodthirsty growl as Sirius morphed into his canine form.
Hackles raised, the dark black dog loped after the Death Eaters.
"Sirius, no!" Squeezing his hand into a fist, Remus swallowed the rest of the worried words clawing their way up his throat. He knew that there was nothing he could say that would make Snuffles listen, for there was no power in the whole world that could stop him now.
He shivered with horror as a small part of him cried out for blood as well and wished he could turn into the wolf right now and join the hunt.
The human in him gagged at the mere thought.
Holding his wand tighter, he took a few steps towards the woods. Even if he couldn't follow Sirius as fast as he might want to, he knew he'd have to go after him and keep the promise he'd made at James and Lily's funeral. Their killer would die right here, right now.
"Remus!" Hermione's shrill scream jolted him out of the red haze. "Look!"
Remus turned to see a swarm of darkness approaching from the flank. For just a second his mind froze with terror as the sight made him remember the army of Dementors that had circled around Hogwarts years ago. Then reason won over the panic. There were no Dementors left here.
"Lethifolds! They're Lethifolds!" So they hadn't been able to destroy all the dark creatures after all. "Do you kno