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Chapter Text

Harry had never been in a muggle limousine before. It was wicked cool. It had leather seats, and a little cooler with drinks and snacks, though Harry didn’t take anything, and a sliding glass divider that separated them from the driver. Harry got lost in the simple joy of exploring the cab and fiddling with all of the buttons and little compartments.

“Harry,” Mrs. Malfoy said with a smile in her voice, “settle down. Save your energy for your lesson.”

Harry grinned at her and at Draco. Right. Karate lessons.

He was so excited!

Just a couple hours ago, Harry had been bracing himself for a summer of boredom and loneliness at the Dursleys. Now, the Malfoys were rescuing him from that fate by arranging him to take karate lessons with Draco. The Dursleys couldn’t even be mad about it, because Mrs. Malfoy had expertly arranged for the neighbours to witness her casual display of wealth and class. Aunt Petunia would have to go along with whatever Mrs. Malfoy said and did in order to keep up appearances with the neighbourhood and take advantage of her new ‘posh friend’. Professor Snape might be Harry’s hero, but Mrs. Malfoy was a mad genius. She had met Aunt Petunia only once, and briefly at that, and already had her completely figured out.

This summer was going to be awesome.

It was more than just the martial arts to Harry, this was summer freedom and a chance to explore the muggle world without the Dursleys looming over him, and a chance to learn something new!

Harry loved quidditch, but he house teams taught themselves, and even though Marcus was brilliant, he’d learned so much more technical stuff from Mr. Bagman in a couple sessions than he’d learned from the Slytherin team all year.

He was hoping that karate would be the same. Sparring in the Slytherin Heir rooms was fun, but it was chaotic and unstructured.

That was good for practising improvisation, but Harry wanted to master technique and strategy, too.

He was certain that muggle martial arts and wizarding DADA would have enough overlap in their theory that this fun summer hobby would be very worthwhile.

Plus, Draco was doing it with him, so even if he didn’t learn much, he knew he’d have fun.

The limo was too big for the cramped dojo parking lot, so Harry and the Malfoys had to walk a little to get to class. He didn’t mind.

It was a beautiful day.

Or it was, until Harry caught sight of Piers Polkiss.

Harry been so excited to get away from Dudley that he’d forgotten about Dudley’s friends.

Polkiss spotted him and sauntered over. “Hey, Potter. Dudley around?”

Harry shook his head, no. “Nah, I’m here with a friend.”

“Cool,” Polkiss said. “How was St. Brutus’?”

“Huh?”

Polkiss gave him an odd look. “The reform school you got sent to. Your uncle said it was for the criminally insane or some shit.”

Harry gave a startled laugh, thinking fast. “Oh! I didn’t know they’d told anyone. It’s a posh private school, actually. My parents secured me a scholarship before they died. It’s filled to the brim with future politicians and nobility types and the like so yeah, the criminally insane.”

Polkiss laughed. “That’s rough.”

Harry gave an awkward shrug. “It’s not all bad. The friend who brought me here goes there with me. He’s rich, but he’s cool. He’s related to someone important, but he won’t tell me who. There’s a rumour at school that he’s secretly a Royal, but I think that’s bollocks. He’d never shut up about it if he was. Hey Draco, come meet Piers Polkiss. He’s one of Dudley’s friends.”

“Charmed,” Draco said snidely, sticking out his hand.

Polkiss burst out laughing. “You two are hilarious! You here for Karate lessons, then?”

“Yup.”

“Me too. I didn’t think I’d know anyone here. I asked Dudley to join but Mrs. Dursley didn’t want ‘Duddikins’ getting hurt. Personally, I think she and Mr. Dursley just didn’t want Dudley doing anything ‘foreign’. They’re so weird sometimes. It’s cool that you’re here, though. This’ll be fun!”

Polkiss ran back to his spot in line, and Draco gave Harry a questioning look.

Harry shrugged. “He’s always nicer when Dudley’s not around. It’s weird.”

“I’m going to keep an eye on him,” Draco promised, crossing his arms.

“Just don’t get too distracted. We’re here to hit things, remember?” Harry said cheekily. He was glad that he had such a protective friend.

“Is everything alright?” Mrs. Malfoy asked. Merlin, she was good at blending into the background when she wanted to be, even dressed like a posh muggle princess like she was.

Harry nodded quickly. “Yeah, it’s alright. Thanks.”

“Alright. I’ll stay long enough to get you boys signed in, and then I’ll let you have your fun. I gave Draco some muggle money, and there’s a little shop right over there, so if you get finished early and I’m not back yet, grab yourselves a snack and wait for me here or at that park over there. Don’t wander off and don’t talk to any strangers. Got it?”

“Yes, Mother,” Draco said impatiently.

“Yes, Ma’am,” Harry echoed. He was amazed at the balance she managed to strike between being responsible and safety oriented and being hands-off and letting them feel like they were growing up. He was eternally grateful that he’d gotten the opportunity to know her. He liked to think that his own mother would have been a lot like her, but of course, he could never know for sure.

They got registered without issue and quickly changed into their new pyjama-uniforms. Gis. Apparently the white belts meant that they were beginners, and they would have to earn better colors as they went.

Harry thought that sounded awesome. He hoped he’d be the first of their group to advance.

As the lesson started, they were gathered together as a group to do some simple warm-ups and stretches.

Harry was expecting them to get right into it, but after they were limbered up, their sensei brought them all close together to talk about the importance of discipline and a clear mind.

“I won’t make you wash my car,” the sensei said, causing most of the students to laugh, “but we’re not Cobra Kai, either. Balance is important. You can’t land a solid hit if your momentum isn’t lined up correctly. You can’t make a solid decision if your thinking isn’t lined up correctly, either. You must learn to stay calm under pressure, to think quickly under threat, and to always remember that violence should be a last resort. This is meant to be fun and it is meant to protect you. It is not meant to turn you into bullies who feel free to terrorize everyone else. Got it?”

Everyone nodded solemnly. One kid snickered condescendingly, and the sensei immediately told him to stay after class for a private chat, if he wished to continue the lessons.

Harry was impressed.

He’d seen adults get utterly steamrolled by kids like that before, and it was nice to know that this authority figure, like Professor Snape, knew how to put his foot down.

They got down to theory, to Harry’s delight, and went over the basic tenants of, to Harry’s dismay, meditation of all things, before moving on to the proper stances they’d need to stay grounded. Finally, they ended the class with some sets of basic punches and kicks, but with no actual fighting.

It wasn’t as exciting as Harry had been hoping, but he could see the potential, could tell that the sensei was building a foundation of knowledge within them before setting them loose on the dangerous and fun stuff, and he wanted to stick with it.

Draco agreed.

It was still early when they’d finished and changed back into their street clothes.

They went with a few other kids to the corner shop to buy some junk food and drinks, and then Polkiss invited them to hang out at the skate park.

Draco was dubious, but Harry was intrigued. He had seen kids skateboarding before, and it had always looked difficult but fun. It looked like flying but standing up and with wheels.

“Let’s at least watch,” Harry begged, tugging at Draco’s sleeve. “It’s still part of the park where your mother told us to wait. We’ll be able to see the limo from there and everything.”

“I suppose,” Draco said reluctantly, “but don’t expect me to join in.”

Harry rolled his eyes. “I won’t. You might want to after you see what they can do, though. Come on!”

They chased after Piers and the others.

Chapter Text

Severus was going to die, wasn’t he?

Or he was going to go to Azkaban for murder.

He had been putting a meeting with Lucius Malfoy off ever since his confrontation with Quirrell and The Dark Lord, citing his injuries as a reason for the delay.

But Lucius Malfoy was not a person to be put off forever, and he was demanding a meeting with Severus now.  He was demanding answers.

Severus still didn’t know what he should say.

The Dark Lord knew he was a traitor.  There was no walking that back or making excuses.  If The Dark Lord ever rose again, Severus was a dead man.  A tortured, mutilated dead man.

Lucius didn’t know that yet, though.

Probably.

And he was still disturbingly close to Harry.  Severus needed to keep that line of communication open if he had any hope of keeping the boy safe.

He also needed to pass information of Lucius’ plans on to Dumbledore if he planned to keep his boss’ good graces and protection.

Which he desperately needed.  Because he was a dead man.

But The Dark Lord was out there, capable of movement and capable of communication.  He could inform Lucius of Severus’ treachery at any moment.

Death or Azkaban.

Severus wasn’t seeing any other inevitabilities for his future.

He could run, of course, and try to eek out a life worth living for a year or two before Voldemort tracked him down.  Maybe he could even find a moment of true happiness or peace.

But he’d sworn to Dumbledore that he would protect Harry Potter.  He’d sworn to himself that he’d do what he must to right his past wrongs.

He was needed here.

The last school year had proven that.

Dumbledore couldn’t be trusted to put the boy’s needs and safety first.  To the old man, Harry was a chess piece.  A rare and valuable one to be sure, but something to be maneuvered and gambled and sacrificed in needed for ‘the greater good’.

Severus couldn’t allow that.

With a heavy sigh, Severus gathered his nerves, straightened his spine, and flooed over to Malfoy Manor.

Lucius did nothing to steady him as he stumbled out of the fireplace with a limp, but he did offer him a drink.

Severus accepted the offering but didn’t partake.  Not yet.

It would be too embarrassing for a Potion Master and spy to die by poisoning.

“You wanted to speak with me?” Severus asked pointedly.

Lucius raised an eyebrow.  “Have a seat, my friend.  I see you’re still recovering.”

Ah yes, the classic Lucius Malfoy concern-wrapped-in-an-insult.

Severus still sat.  He was too sore not to.

“What are we going to do about next year?” Lucius asked, pacing the room.

Severus blinked.  That was not what he’d been expecting.  “What?”

“There’s a lot to consider, isn’t there?” Lucius said, running a hand through his immaculate hair.  Vain bastard.  “Dumbledore is finally under some scrutiny.  Little Harry Potter is already throwing his political weight around.  Doing it quite adeptly, too, I might add.  Slytherin is more unified than it’s been in generations, but the parents are no where near that level of solidarity.  There are whispers and rumors that The Dark Lord is indeed still alive somewhere and either in hiding or incapacitated.  And have you seen the list of potential DADA professors for this coming year?  It’s dire.  I’m going to have to hire a private tutor for Draco and Harry over the summer, just in case.  Thoughts?”

Severus set down his drink and steepled his fingers together.  “That’s… a lot.  As for Potter and The Dark Lord, I suggest we hold our course for now.  Reacting to vague rumors can only end badly.  As loathed as I am to admit it, the boy isn’t bad at politicking or at seeing the right of things, especially for a Potter.  He isn’t at all what I would have expected, before meeting him.  He could still be a valuable tool, if not an ally, I think.  Only time will tell, of course. 

“As for Dumbledore, we both know this scandal won’t be enough to bring him down.  If we push too hard, we’ll be the ones destroyed by it.  We need to keep gathering evidence and staying vigilant.  I’ve got the Slytherin Prefects looking out for the younger students.  We can only hope that will be enough to weather whatever catastrophe Dumbledore allows to fester this year.  And yes, I’ve seen the short list.  Any idea who’ll get the job?”

Lucius gave a disgusted sigh.  “Dumbledore keeps pushing for Lupin, a man with no credentials and no discernable employment history.  Sadly, the majority of the Board want Lockhart.”

Snape shuddered.  “I can’t possibly imagine who’d be worse.  Are there no other viable options you can back?”

“None the others will go for, I’m afraid.  I haven’t given up hope that a better candidate will present themselves, but I’m not holding my breathe either.  It’s probably going to be one of them.  You went to school with Lupin, right?  Any idea why Dumbledore is pushing for him so hard?”

“There are certain things I can’t say.  Magical vows were involved.  He was one of Potter’s groupies, though, and very against dark magic.  He owes Dumbledore a great deal.  I’m sure he’s already Dumbledore’s sworn man.  He’d be a great tool to manipulate Potter with, too.  But he is dangerous.  I can’t explain how or why, but he isn’t safe to have around children.”

“Well that certainly fits with Dumbledore’s tastes, doesn’t it?” Lucius said snidely.

“Tragically so.  Are the rumors true that the Ministry is cracking down on Dark Artifacts again?”

“Mmm, yes.  Thankfully I’d already refreshed my security measures before inviting Potter over for Christmas, or I’m sure I’d be out of sorts.  If the aurors do anything to traumatize my son again with their raids, though, there will be hel to pay.”

“I don’t doubt it.  You’re certain they won’t find anything?”

“Positive.  I’ve enlisted the spirits of the Mael Faes.  It cost a heavy bit of my magic to do, but I’ve already recovered well enough from the toll.  Enough of that, though.  Was Dumbledore really keeping a Philosopher’s Stone at Hogwarts?  A real one?”

“He was.  I can’t vouch for its authenticity one way or the other, though.  I never saw it firsthand.  It was rather pathetically guarded, so I wouldn’t be surprised if it proved to be a fake.  It was a trap for Quirrell and a test for Harry, either way.”

“And you’ve no idea what motivated Quirrell to go after it?  Or what convinced Dumbledore that he would?”

“Nothing definitive.  I was too busy fighting for my life to ask questions, Lucius.”

“Don’t be dramatic.  I’m not blaming you.  It is troubling though, no?  What if he was working for Our Lord?  Worse, what if there’s a new faction out there, quietly amassing power?  Every time a powerful wizard gets notions of immortality, the Wizarding World bleeds.  Every.  Single.  Time.”

“That’s true enough.  We’ll keep our eyes and ears open.  The truth will come out sooner or later.  In the meantime, we’ll keep building alliances and taking precautions.  What else can we do?”

“I don’t like waiting, Severus.  This whole thing has me anxious.”

“Neither do I.”

Well, at least his cover with Lucius wasn’t blown yet.  That didn’t make Severus safe, far from it, but it was something.  He settled in to have a talk and a drink with an old colleague and friend, and to learn as much as possible in the pursuit of keeping Harry safe.

Chapter Text

Muggles were crazy.

Draco watched in awe as they rode on a thin little piece of wood with wheels nearly straight down for like ten feet, before momentum threw them forward and back up again into a jump before doing it all over again.

Without any magic at all to protect them or heal them.

They were absolutely bloody insane.

“Brilliant, isn’t it?” Harry asked watching the suicidal muggles with rapt awe.

“How can they do that?” Draco asked.  “Don’t they get hurt?”

“Oh, all the time,” Polkiss said with a grin.  “I broke my arm real bad when I first tried the half-pipe, and I’ve strained my thumb and ankle a few times since then.  The trick is to not be afraid of the pain.  It’s totally worth it.”

“I’m not scared,” Draco snapped.

Polkiss’ grin turned feral.  “No?  Want to give it a try, then?”

Draco swallowed hard and gave Harry a silent plea for help, but Harry just looked excited at the prospect of trying it out.

“Well,” Draco hedged, “I don’t really have the right shoes for it.”

“Sure you do,” Polkiss said, grabbing Draco by the arm and dragging him towards the Curved Slope of Death.

Polkiss handed him his board, and showed him how to position it at the edge of the drop.

“When you’re ready, you just step firmly onto the other end of the board,” Polkiss said.  “The trick is to be fearless, Rich Kid.  If you tense up or try to pull back, you’ll crash and burn.”

Draco gulped.

The ramp had looked high from the ground, but Draco swore it looked taller than the quidditch stands from up here.  How was this so much scarier than flying?!

He stood at the edge and tried to psych himself up.

It didn’t work.

He was too paralyzed with fear.

He began to tremble and to his horror and shame, tears began burning in the corner of his eyes.

He refused to cry like a baby!

“I can go first if you want!” Harry offered, bouncing up and down in excitement.

Shaking with relief, Draco scrambled back from the edge.

“I knew you weren’t a coward, Potter!” Polkiss laughed, showing Harry how to place his feet.

“Shouldn’t we be learning that on flat ground, first?” Draco asked bitterly.  He hated being set up for failure.

“Probably,” Polkiss said blandly, “but that’s boring.”

“It’s okay, Draco.  I want to try this part!”

Draco had to bite his tongue to keep from reminding Harry that he’d nearly fallen to his death barely over half a year ago.

Harry’d fallen, and Draco had froze.

Like a coward.

He’d promised himself he wouldn’t do that again.  Damnit.

Harry practically leaped from the edge in his enthusiasm, flying down the ramp.  He almost had it, but wobbled at the last moment, and fell on his back, skidding across the smooth surface next to the board that had escaped him.

Draco’s heart was in his throat as he watched Harry for signs of injury.

“Alright Harry?” Polkiss asked, leaning forward over the edge.

Draco was sorely tempted to have him a push.

“I’m fine!” Harry said, grabbing the board and jumping to his feet.  “Can I go again?  I think I know what I did wrong.”

“That’s how you learn!” Polkiss said, reaching down to help Harry scramble up the face of the ramp to the ledge above.

Draco sat and sulked as he watched Harry go again and again, wiping out over and over until, one time he didn’t.

He stayed on his feet and even managed to grab onto the opposite lip of the ramp, dismounting cleanly.

“Way to go Harry!” Polkiss called out.  “You’ll be a pro in no time!”

Harry grinned and rode the board back over to their side.  “That was awesome!  You want a turn yet, Draco?  It’s really fun!”

Draco very much doubted it, but he also didn’t want to look like a coward and a fool un front of Harry and his muggle friend.

“Yeah, okay,” he said shakily, climbing to his feet.

“Alright, Rich Kid!” Polkiss said.

Draco wanted to slap him.

He wanted to slap everyone who had put him in this stupid position, really.

Including Harry.

Including himself.

He felt nauseous.

Harry had fallen, and he was fine.  Draco could do this.

The worst that could happen was he’d look like an idiot when he fell.

Or he’d crack his head open and bleed out before his mother got back with her wand to heal him.

Merlin’s balls.

There was nothing for it.  Moving quickly so he wouldn’t have time to think, let alone over think, Draco grabbed the skateboard, put it in place, and stepped off the edge.

He immediately flinched, leaning back instead of forward like he was supposed to.

Limbs flailed everywhere as he rolled to a stop, one gigantic bruise.

Every bone in his body wad broken, wasn’t it?  He wasn’t even going to make it to his second year at Hogwarts, let alone graduate.

“Ooh, nasty spill, Rich Kid.  You alright?”

“I’m fine,” Draco snapped, hauling himself to his feet and glaring up at his jeering section.

“Good,” Polkiss said with a sardonic grin.  “You’ve gotta go again.”

“What?” Draco asked without thinking.  “Why?”

“Because,” Polkiss drawled, “if you don’t go again now, you never will.  Get back on the horse, or whatever.  Come on!”

Draco grumbled under his breath, but did what he was told.

The second time did not go any better.  It hurt just as bad, and he wasn’t any less scared.

He was just waiting for himself to land wrong and get a serious injury.

The only thing that kept him from throwing a fit and stalking off was Harry cheering him on.

Draco sighed.

It was so easy for Harry.

This was exactly like flying.

Draco had better technique, better form, but he hesitated.  Harry was fearless.  It made Harry better than him.

Maybe… maybe this was what he needed.  Bagman had told Draco he needed to overcome his fear if he ever wanted to be a world class flier, but that was easier said than done.

When all that was at stake was a race to the snitch, it was too easy for his instincts to take over and sabotage him.

With skateboarding, though, it was his fear that was causing him pain.

He needed to lean forward.

Maybe, if he could master skateboarding, he could master flying.

He needed to try.

From then on, Draco threw himself down the ramp with a ferocity that surprised him.

He didn’t quite have it yet.  He still flinched  or held back, or second-guessed himself at exactly the wrong moment, but he was getting better.

He would master this.

“Draco,” Harry called out, pointing down the street.  “Your mum’s here!”

Draco said his goodbyes and grabbed his things, heading for the rented limberline.

“How did it go?” his mother asked.

“It was great, Mrs. Malfoy.  Thanks so much for arranging this!”

His mother chuckled.  “You’re welcome, Harry.  And you, dear?”

Draco, filled with righteous determination, straightened his spine and said, “Mother, I need a skateboard.”

His mother looked at him as if she had just now realized she had been raising a hippogriff all these years.

Behind him, Harry burst out laughing.

Chapter Text

Harry was still riding high from his day out with Draco after supper that night.  When they’d returned to the Dursleys, Mrs. Malfoy hadn’t just dropped him off and left like Harry had expected.  They had stuck around to make sure that Harry would be alright.

Harry had offered to make dinner so that Aunt Petunia wouldn’t get mad at having to do it herself.

Aunt Petunia had frozen at the offer.  In hindsight, Harry realized that she had not wanted Mrs. Malfoy to know about just how many chores Harry had, but at the time, he had honestly just been trying to be helpful.

Mrs. Malfoy had stepped in saying that she would be delighted to try out Harry’s cooking and had watched him closely as Harry had started pulling out ingredients.

It hadn’t taken long before she had asked Draco to help with the chopping and stirring, while she had rolled up her own expensive designer sleeves to handle whichever tasks Harry wasn’t tackling himself.

Looking back, Harry was amazed that she had never once taken control of the process from him.  She had followed his lead and allowed him to make all the final decisions about seasoning and presentation and all of that.

After being shamed by her guests making her food, Aunt Petunia had jumped in to set the table and help out however she could, but without ever really getting to know Harry enough to predict his movements or communicate with him, she had gotten in the way more than anything.

It had still been the most fun Harry had had cooking in his entire life.

He had been very proud of what they’d made together, and Mrs. Malfoy had gone out of her way to compliment Harry on his skills.

Draco said that it was no wonder that Harry was such a genius at Potions, and the Dursleys had had to sit there in silence and allow talk of both magic and about Harry’s intellectual prowess to be spoken of openly at their table.

After they had eaten, Aunt Petunia had even made Dudley do the dishes and had pinched his ear to drag him over to the sink when he had started to whine.

Harry had been free to visit with the Malfoys in the sitting room while his aunt and cousin did all the cleaning up for once.

Uncle Vernon had made a show of ignoring them all by rereading that morning’s paper.

As they were leaving, Mrs. Malfoy had casually informed Harry that she had placed a monitoring spell on him, just in case he had any hidden karate injuries that acted up over the next couple of days until their next lesson.

Aunt Petunia had paled at her words and Uncle Vernon had gone red.

Harry had hidden a smirk as he gave her a big hug goodbye and promised to write to Draco before his next visit.

A monitoring charm meant that the Dursleys would have to keep their hands off of Harry and keep him well-fed.

Of course, Harry still had that perpetual platter of sandwiches up in his room, but the Dursleys didn’t know about that.  As far as they were concerned, their primary methods of punishing Harry had just been taken away from them.

It was brilliant.

When Harry skipped into his room, he was immediately accosted by Mercurius, who nipped his ear hard enough to bleed.

Harry doublechecked, but the window was open, and Mercurius’ water and food bowls were both full.

Harry supposed his owl just had a rough way of saying he missed him.

He ruffled the bird’s feathers and fed him a treat.

Mercurius hooted and nipped Harry again, more softly this time.

“I missed you too, boy,” Harry said fondly.  “I didn’t realize I’d be gone all day.  Did Professor Snape send anything back for me?”

The owl cocked his head toward Harry’s desk, where a sealed letter rested.

Harry grinned and bounded over to it.

Harry,

I am glad that you made it home safely.  I took the liberty of ordering you some new potions books to keep you busy over the summer, as well as some Defence Against the Dark Arts books, in case this year’s replacement professor is subpar.  They should arrive tomorrow.

Don’t be a nuisance to your relatives and remember to ask me if they demand something of you that you don’t believe is safe or fair.

I’ve heard that you will be spending quite a bit of time with Draco this summer.

Stay safe and keep your eyes open, especially while in public.

I am glad that you will get to spend the summer with your friend but remember that most of the protections on your Aunt’s house don’t extend beyond their property line.  Keep your wand with you at all times, even though you aren’t allowed to use it.

It is better to have to explain to the Ministry why you had to use magic in self defence after an emergency than to be kidnapped or hurt because you didn’t want to get in trouble.

I’m sure you’ll continue to do me proud and I look forward to seeing what you’ve learned over the summer once next term starts up.

Take care, Harry.

Professor Severus Snape

p.s.

If you would like me to come with you to take a closer look at some of the items in your trust vault now that you are more acclimated with our world, let me know.  I would be happy to escort you and to answer some of your questions.

Harry read the letter three times.  It was simple, but Harry knew Professor Snape well enough to know that there was a depth of caring hidden between the lines.

He was excited to see which books Professor Snape had gotten him.

He wondered if he should add more to his general research or pick a specific independent study.

Maybe once he skimmed through the books, inspiration would strike.

He wrote a quick note back to Professor Snape, confirming that he was still okay, and that his first karate lesson with Draco had gone well, then left it on his desk for Mercurius to deliver in the morning.

His owl deserved the chance to hunt and rest before going on his next mission.

Harry needed sleep too, he realized when he saw how dark it had gotten outside.

He had had a long day!

After cleaning up for the night, Harry curled into his bed and fell asleep almost as quickly as his head hit the pillow.

Chapter Text

Severus paced his office at Hogwarts, waiting for Harry’s reply.

He felt bad about manipulating the boy, but if Albus Dumbledore successfully petitioned to have Remus Lupin teach at Hogwarts, then Harry would need to know some context in advance, and those letters waiting in the Potter trust vault combined with Severus’ commentary would probably do the trick without arousing anyone’s suspicions about Severus going out of his way to sour Harry’s opinions.

Harry would need to learn about both Lupin and Black eventually.  It was better he learn at a place and time where Severus could provide damage control.

Merlin, what a mess.

Lucius was going to be the death of him, if Harry didn’t manage it first.  Or Dumbledore.

Or The Dark Lord.

Or bloody Remus Lupin come back to finish the job.

He sank down into his chair and rubbed at his temples.

He could deal with Lucius attempting to brainwash Harry into his bigoted views.

Harry was a smart kid.  Empathetic.

He would listen to reason and seek out information to sift through.  So long as Severus kept in contact with the boy, he did not fear him being radicalized beneath his nose.

The rest of Lucius’ plans for the boy were more concerning.

Harry had already been thrust into the public spotlight and Ministry politics more than Severus liked.

Hel, Harry had dived into the political scene headfirst in an effort to save him.

Severus was grateful but felt incredibly guilty that he had put Harry in that position.

He might not be falling for Dumbledore’s traps yet, but he was still growing up too fast.

Casting a tempus charm, Severus frowned.  It was getting late.

Lucius had mentioned that Harry and Draco were hanging out near Petunia’s place that day, but surely that had ended hours ago.  Severus could not imagine Lucius nor Narcissa allowing their son to spend so much time in a muggle neighbourhood.

Had something gone wrong?

Had Lucius learned of Severus’ true allegiances after all and invited him over only as a pretext to keep him from interfering with the boy’s demise.

Merlin, Severus hoped not.

If Lucius Malfoy had engineered Harry’s death under Severus’ nose, he would be begging for death by the time Severus was finished with him.

Azkaban be damned.

No, Severus needed to stay rational.

It was too soon to panic.

Right?

Anything could be going on.

Perhaps Narcissa had taken the boys out for a late dinner.

Perhaps they’d gone to Malfoy Manor for a few hours, after Severus had left.

Perhaps Harry was dead in a ditch.

Severus sighed.

He had better check in on Privet Drive, at the very least.

If he could get visual confirmation that Harry was alive and well, then he could get on with being annoyed at the boy for ignoring his letter and get some much-needed sleep tonight.

With a great sigh and a considerable amount of strain on his healing leg, Severus trudged to the edge of Hogwarts’ wards and apparated to Privet Drive.

There was a giant limousine parked in front of the Dursley’s house.

Severus didn’t know what to make of that.

Casting a disillusionment spell on himself and creeping closer, Severus saw that the vehicle was occupied by a bored-looking driver who was reclined in his seat and reading a book.

Either he had already been there for a long time, or he was expecting he would be.

That did not track with what Severus knew of the Dursleys.  There was no way Petunia Evans was capable of fostering a relationship with anyone with wealth or class.

No, this was not an unrelated muggle coincidence.

This was the Malfoys.

Why were they still here?  What were they up to?

Severus readied his wand, just in case.

There was the noise of dishes clanging together and laughter coming from the kitchen.

Frowning, Severus peered inside.

He nearly choked at what he saw.

Narcissa Malfoy had the sleeves of her very posh muggle outfit rolled up as she helped Harry and Draco cook dinner.

Baffling.

What was she up to?

There was no way she would sully herself with such a demeaning task without a damn good personal motivation.

Harry smiled fondly at Draco and laughed at something the blonde said.

Narcissa gave them both a look of pure motherly affection.

No.

That must be an act.

There was no way that Lucius Malfoy’s cunning wife would allow herself to become attached to a boy who was doomed to die.

This was grooming, pure and simple.

It made Severus angry to witness Harry be so taken in by the adult Malfoys’ charade, but there was nothing he could do about it while maintaining his cover with them.

Still, this meant that Harry was physically safe, for now.  Narcissa Malfoy would not wand down a famous eleven-year-old in his own home after making such a flashy entrance in front of the entire neighbourhood.

Now that Severus thought about it, if the Malfoys had been this engaged with Harry all day, the chances were high that the boy had not even seen his letter, yet.

He had been worried over nothing.

Such was the fate of a spy.

Or a parent, but that didn’t bear thinking about.

Severus was not in a position to be more directly involved in Harry’s life than he already was.

Again, such was the fate of a spy.

Isolated and looking in on displays of human affection from afar.

He needed to get back to Hogwarts before Albus noted his absence.

He’d caused enough of a headache for himself for one day.

Chapter Text

Harry couldn’t wait until his next karate lesson with Draco.

He had woken up early, too excited to sleep, and sent off his letter to Professor Snape.

After that, he had unpacked his school trunk, proudly displaying his text books and the many gifts he’d gotten on his shelves.

He owned so many things now, valuable not just because of how much they had cost, but because who had gifted them too Harry, and why.

His bookshelves were full of proof that people cared about him and wanted him to succeed.

It was a nice reminder to hold onto at Privet Drive.

It was super awesome of Mrs. Malfoy to allow Draco to take muggle lessons with him all summer, but Harry still wished he hadn’t had to come back here at all.

Aunt Petunia had not yet given Harry standing orders about making everyone breakfast, so Harry took advantage of that loophole to hide away in his room.

When the books that Professor Snape had promised showed up, Harry jumped at the distraction they offered him.

He diligently sorted them by category, and then added them to his shelves, nodding satisfactorily at how they filled out his wealth of potential knowledge.

Then, squeezing onto his little toy broom, Harry pulled the first potions book back down and began the arduous task of cross-referencing the new book against his old notes, and filling in the gaps.

There were so many tricky little details to each ingredient, that it was no wonder that even the best books rarely listed all of them.

It was a treasure hunt, sifting through so many pages of text to find something new to learn.

He was so engrossed with his research that he didn’t notice his muggle proximity warning gift from Professor Snape had gone off until there was a loud knocking at his door.

Harry swallowed hard, quickly hiding his notes and magical broom.

“Harry?” a voice Harry wasn’t expecting asked.  “You in there?”

“Yeah Piers, just a sec,” Harry called out, checking to make sure he was in fully muggle attire.

He cracked the door open.

Piers looked a little haggard, with a bruise forming on his cheek and swollen knuckles.

Harry blinked.  “What happened?”

Piers shrugged.  “Dudley and I got in a fight, but my parents won’t be home for hours and I lost my key again.  Do you wanna hang out for a while?”

Sneaking a glance back at his room, Harry said, “Yeah sure, but not inside okay?”

“Brill!  You wanna go skateboarding again?”

Harry grinned.  “Yes!  That was awesome.  I’m going to have to save up for my own board!”

Piers shot Harry a look.  “Your aunt and uncle spoil Big D rotten, but they don’t buy much for you, do they?  I’ve noticed.”

Harry shrugged in a way that he hoped was casual.  “Yeah well, I’m not their kid am I?”

“I suppose not.”

“What did you and Dudley fight about anyway?”

Piers rolled his eyes almost as dramatically as Draco.  “Duds is mad that into skateboarding and karate his summer.  He thinks I’m abandoning him, which is stupid because I’m here, aren’t I?  He’s the one who wants to pout.”

“Why doesn’t he just tag along?” Harry asked, even as he dreaded the idea of Dudley invading his summer freedom.

Piers scoffed.  “He’s too bloody fat to keep his balance on a skateboard, for one.  I think he wanted to sign up for karate but his dad wouldn’t let him.  Pretty sure Vernon thinks it all foreign mumbo jumbo or some rot.”

“That sounds about right,” Harry muttered darkly.  “Did Dudley give you that shiner?”

Piers tenderly jabbed at the bruise on his cheekbone, just under his eye.  “Yeah.  He threw a bloody tantrum when I wouldn’t drop put of classes at the dojo.  Big baby.”

Harry smirked and shook his head.  “Why are you even friends with him?  Doesn’t sound like you like him much.”

“Right now I don’t,” Piers said.  “And I dunno.  He comes up with fun ideas for games sometimes, and as annoying as his spoiled arse is, it’s handy to know someone who can get anything he wants.  He’s even had a bloody Playstation for a year!  Still not sure how Vernon swung that.”

They got to the skate park, smaller than the one near the dojo, but still nice.  The half-pipe was a bit smaller, but it had enough ramps and rails to keep things interesting.

Harry was having a lot of fun, but he was feeling guilty.  “Dudley won’t give you too hard of a time for hanging out with me, will he?”

Piers shrugged.  “Who cares?  I can be friends with who I want.  Smeltings isn’t like our old school.  Dudley’s not the boss of everyone, and he can’t bully the older kids into doing things his way.  There’s a really popular girl a few years above us who’s a wiccan, and Dudley called her a Freak in front of everyone.  He’s still on a lot of people’s shit lists after that, and it happened months ago.”

Huh.  Harry had trouble picturing a Dudley who wasn’t the center of everyone’s attention and the leader of every group he encountered.

Weird.

Harry wiped out hard trying to land a fancy flip-kick-thing he’d seen an older boy do.  Piers made sure he was okay and then burst out laughing.  “Jesus, Potter, you’re a madman.  Why don’t you hang out with us more often?”

Harry gave a self-deprecating smirk and shrugged.  “Not a big fan of Harry Hunting?”

Piers frowned.  “Oh.  I guess I never thought of it from your side of things.  You were always the one singled out, weren’t you?”

Harry sighed.  “Yeah, but that’s not what I mean.  You and a few of the others were alright; you’d just tag me when you caught me, maybe put me in a headlock for a second and then let me go.  Dudley and a few of them got mean.  They’d hit me really hard or knock me down.  Dudley even kicked me in the ribs a couple times.  I hated it.”

“I’m sorry,” Piers said, looking pensive.  “I know everyone was afraid of standing up to Duds, of pissing him off, but that was still pretty shitty of us to do to you.”

“It’s no big deal,” Harry lied.  “We’re friends now… right?”

He felt nervous the second the words left his mouth.

What if he’d read things wrong?

What if Piers was just passing the time until one of his real friends was free?

Piers grinned at him and held out his hand.  “Friends.”

Harry smiled and shook it.

Chapter Text

Draco was beyond appalled.

For some unfathomable reason, his father had accepted an invitation to visit Mr. Lovegood, editor of the batshit Quibbler, and his daughter for lunch… and he was dragging Draco along.

Draco could not understand why his father had decided to commit social suicide on a lark, but Draco desperately wished that he’d been left out of it.

Pansy had been forced to play with ‘Looney Lovegood’ before, and she’d come back with horror stories.  The girl was absolutely certifiable.

His father had made him promise to play nice, though, so Draco had resigned himself to nodding along to the insanity and hopefully gathering some funny stories to share with Harry later.

Merlin, this would be so much more bearable if Harry were here.

“Lucius!” Mr. Lovegood said jovially, ushering Draco and his father inside.  “Welcome, welcome.  And my, Draco, look how much you’ve grown!  You remember my Luna, don’t you?”

“Not really, Sir,” Draco replied with a shallow bow, unaware that he’d ever met the little blonde girl with large watery eyes before in his life.  Maybe Mr. Lovegood had imagined it, along with the crumple-horned whatever-they-were that he liked to write about.

“It’s nice to meet you, Draco,” Luna said dreamily.  “We have some snapdragons in our garden, if you’d like to see them.”

Draco resisted the urge to roll his eyes.  Yes, yes, his name meant ‘dragon’.  Well spotted.  Still, outside sounded better than this stuffy, structurally questionable excuse for a house so he nodded.  “That sounds lovely, Luna.  Thanks.”

Luna grabbed his hand and ushered him outside.

The garden really was lovely, he supposed, but there wasn’t much to do.

He tried to be an attentive guest and gentleman, but Luna kept going off on tangents that Draco did not understand and could not follow.

Her assertions that he had an infestation of nargles nesting within his immaculate hair was the final straw.

He let Luna talk and allowed his mind to wander.

Stand firmly on the heel of the board.  With confidence, lean forward and stomp down on the front end of it.  Lean into the momentum.  No fear.

Even in Draco’s imagination, he flinched.  He hesitated.  He leaned back.

Why did he have to be such a coward?

“Don’t you think so, Draco?” Luna asked, her big eyes so earnest and beguiling that Draco felt guilty for tuning her out.

“I’m sorry, Luna.  I got distracted.  What were you saying?”

Luna picked a snap-dragon and handed it to him.  “Just that the nargles seem to be driving you to distraction.  What were you thinking about?”

Draco plonked himself down on a patch of grass.  “Skateboarding.  It’s a muggle sport, and I’m rubbish at it.”

“It must be very complicated, then,” Luna said, gathering her skirts to delicately sit down next to him.

Draco shook his head.  “Not really.  It relies on instincts, and I haven’t got any.”

“Here,” Luna said, picking a small bouquet of colorful flowers.  “These will keep the nargles away.  You don’t lack instincts, they’re just in hiding right now.  For their protection.”

“Thanks,” Draco said slowly, then took a closer look at the flowers he’d been gifted.  “Wait, these are potion ingredients.  This one relieves stress.  This one improves focus.  This one’s poisonous unless… yes, unless you combine it with this!  That nullifies the poison and stimulates blood circulation to the brain.  Luna, are you a herbologist?”

Luna laughed.  “Oh, no.  My mother was a potioneer, and she used to show me how she worked, but I honestly don’t remember much of it.  My father has taught me to be intuitive, instead.  I have instincts too, you see, but they needed to be trained, to be coaxed out of hiding.  They’re very handy things, instincts.  You should keep yours safe.  You’ll need them.”

“Your instincts tell you that?” Draco asked, his lips quirking into a fond smile.

Pansy was off her rocker; Luna wasn’t crazy at all.  Not in the ways that mattered.

She just saw the world a little differently, that was all, and Draco had come to appreciate the value of grappling with a different perspective.

Harry had taught him that.

Luna just smiled at him and shrugged.

“My friend and I are going to be potioneers, you know,” Draco said.  “You should hang out with us, once school starts.  You’ll be a first-year, right?”

“I will,” Luna confirmed.  “My father has been worried about me.  He thinks people will find me too odd, I think.  He’s been worried that I’ll be a Slytherin; is hoping that I’ll sort Ravenclaw, instead.  He thinks it’ll be safer there, but I’m not so sure.”

“Your instincts tell you you’re a snake?” Draco asked.

“Oh, I think I could wear and shed many different skins, if given the choice,” Luna replied airily, “and that fear is a poor reason to make a hasty decision.  Things can be dangerous and beautiful and delicate all at the same time, after all.  It’s all in how you handle them.  Like flowers.”

“Well, for the record, my friend and I are both Slytherins, and we wouldn’t let anything bad happen to you.  I think Harry will be fascinated by your instincts, and I know he’ll want to know about your mother’s work in potions.”

“He’s lost his mother too, hasn’t he?” Luna asked, not giving a single indication as to whether she knew they were talking about famous orphan Harry Potter or not.

“He has.  I know he likes it when people talk with him about her.  It helps to keep her memory alive.”

“That’s a lovely notion, Draco.  I’m very glad to have met you, today.”

“Me too, Luna.  No matter which house you get sorted into.”

Chapter Text

Harry stretched happily before rolling out of bed.  It had been two weeks since his first karate lesson with Draco, and things were going very well.  Their sensei was still taking things safe and slow, but they had learned enough to begin practicing moves at home, so Harry was almost never bored.

Today wasn’t about karate, though, or even skateboarding.  Mrs. Malfoy had invited to the manor for the day, and Harry was very excited to be going to his real home again, even if it was only for a few hours.

He had no idea what they’d be doing once he got there, but knowing Draco, it was bound to be energetic and fun, so Harry decided to buckle down and get some potions research finished while he waited.

He avoided looking at his small pile of letters from Professor Snape as he worked.  He felt guilty for not responding to the offer to go through his Gringotts vault together yet, but he didn’t know which days he’d be free, yet, and he didn’t want to waste Professor Snape’s valuable time.

He did make a point of writing a very thorough thank-you note for all of the new books he’d sent, though.  The rest, he’d figure out later.

When the doorbell rang, Harry was halfway down the stairs before Dudley had time to blink, let alone haul himself off of the sofa.

“Hi!” Harry said happily as he opened the door before skidding to a stop.  “Oh, hi Piers.”

Piers rolled his eyes.  “Ouch.  Could you sound more disappointed to see me?”

“Sorry,” Harry said sheepishly.  “I’m hanging out at Draco’s place today, and he’s supposed to be here to pick me up any time now.  I just wasn’t expecting you.  How’s it going?”

Piers gave Harry a playful shove.  “My parents both have to work today, and I’m bloody bored.  I thought I’d see if you or Big D wanted to hang out.”

“Oh, I’m sorry Piers.  I totally would if I didn’t already have plans.  We’re still on for skateboarding after karate tomorrow though, right?”

“Yeah, absolutely!  Say hi to Rich Kid for me.”

“Will do,” Harry said, opening the door wider for Piers to come in.

“Hey Duds!  You wanna do something?”

“You sure you wouldn’t rather hang out with the Freak?” Dudley asked sourly from the other room.

Piers gave Harry a dramatically exasperated look and shook his head.

“Yikes, well I’ll let you two work that out,” Harry said cheerfully, stepping outside to wait on the front porch.

Piers smirked at him and gave him the finger before Harry closed the door behind himself.

It was a beautiful day, and Harry wasn’t going to let anything ruin it.

Not even Dudley being Dudley.

It took a few more minutes before the Malfoy’s pulled up in their rented limousine.

The muggle driver opened the back door for Harry, who crawled in and grinned at Draco and Mrs. Malfoy.  “Hello Mrs. Malfoy.  Draco.  Piers says hi.”

“Piers is the muggle boy who let you borrow his wheeled board?” Mrs. Malfoy asked.

Draco nodded.  “Yeah.  I don’t think he likes me much, but he’s alright.”

Mrs. Malfoy gave Draco a scrutinizing look at that comment, but let it drop.  “How have you been, Harry?  Are your relatives treating you alright?”

“I’ve been fine, Mrs. Malfoy.  Thanks for asking.  Between the protections that Professor Snape set up on my room and your regular visits, they’ve mostly left me alone.  My cousin Dudley is still a prat, but I don’t think he knows how to be anything else.”

“Well, I am glad that you’re safe.  If anything changes that, you let me know immediately, alright?”

Harry smiled shyly.  “Thanks Mrs. Malfoy.  I will.  Professor Snape already made me promise the same thing.”

Mrs. Malfoy nodded.  “Severus is a good man, underneath his rough exterior.  I’ve no doubt that he will move mountains to protect you, if needed.  I have a different set of skills than him, though, so make sure you tell me, too.  I’ve been researching the muggle court system and their governmental agencies, and I’m not afraid to fight dirty to keep the people I care about safe.  I can use their own rules against them if they step out of line.”

Harry gave an uncomfortable shrug.  “I’ll be fine, but thanks.  I can manage them for a few months a year.  Especially when I’m spending most of my time out of the house with Draco or Piers anyways.  It’s really no big deal.”

“I will decide for myself what I consider to be ‘no big deal’ Harry, but I am glad that you are safe.”

“Yes, ma’am,” Harry said with a sigh.  He really was grateful that the Malfoys had gotten themselves involved in his summer, but he also wished that everyone would stop worrying quite so much.  It made him feel weak and pathetic when adults kept eying him like he was made of glass.

He could handle doing chores, a little bullying, and neglect.

It wasn’t like anyone but Dudley ever really hit him, especially not anymore, and Professor Snape had made sure he always had access to food, so he wasn’t going hungry or anything.

He’d even grown a little since summer had started, as far as he could tell.

Well, maybe that part was just wishful thinking, but he’d definitely grown since last summer!  Even Piers had mentioned it.

The muggle limousine dropped them off just outside the Ministry, where there were lots of approved apparition points around.

Harry took Mrs. Malfoy’s hand and, in a blink, he was staring up at the familiar but still awe-inspiring face of Malfoy Manor.

It was good to be home.

“Master Harry!” Dobby cried out, greeting them at the main entrance, “Dobby has been waiting for you!  Dobby has been baking all morning, just for you, and has been setting up a new flying course!”

Harry grinned at the odd little elf.  “I’ve missed you, Dobby.”

Dobby teared up and launched himself at Harry, hugging his leg tightly.

Harry laughed, patting him on the head.

“Before we do the flying course, I’ve got something else to show you!” Draco said excitedly, grabbing Harry by the arm and pulling him towards their massive back yard.

Harry gaped at what he saw.

It wasn’t surprising, but it mindboggling, all the same.

Harry had never seen a skatepark so large.

It had everything; multiple half-pipes of multiple sizes, different ramps, straight and angled rails, and a few of those bowl-things dug into the ground that Harry didn’t know the name of, but desperately wanted to try.

“Wicked.”

“I have to hand it to the muggles,” Mr. Malfoy said, walking up behind them.  “There is quite a bit of engineering behind the design of these deathtraps.  They really thought it through.”

Harry smiled.  “Hi Mr. Malfoy!  Did you build all this, then?”

“Draco and I helped the house-elves with the actual construction, but I had to venture into muggle London alone to do the research for it.  I had no idea that muggles put so much critical thinking into their baffling ideas of recreation.”

“It’s like those motorized toys we made last year,” Draco said happily.  “Muggles are really quite clever.  I think their lack of magic forces them to think in different ways, in order to compensate.  I’ve been looking at muggle books on biology, chemistry, and engineering to help me get better at transfiguration.  Kinda like how you broke down potions into its little parts, but just looking at the different ways we can think about how objects are put together, and what they’re made up of.  McGonagall is going to have no choice but to give me better marks than Granger, next year.”

“She probably already knows all this,” Harry pointed out cheekily.  “She’s muggleborn, after all, and books are her only friends.”

“Yeah, but that’s just it,” Draco said.  “She wants to know everything about everything.  She lacks focus.  She probably knows all of the individual facts about potions ingredients, too, but got too distracted trying to learn the next thing to really think through the implications.  She’s better at repeating the solutions other people have come up with than coming up with her own.”

“Is that what this skatepark is about?  Coming up with your own solutions to the problem?”

Draco nodded fervently, pure steely determination settling into his features.  “Yes.  Skateboarding is the key, I think.  I keep hesitating.  I flinch.  I’ll never be the best at flying if I can’t get over that, and skateboarding is very unforgiving, on that front.  When I’m going after the snitch, hesitation doesn’t cause immediate or obvious failure.  It just slows me down a little.  It’s too easy to let it slide, or to not even realize that I’m doing it.  With skateboarding, the moment I hesitate, I end up on my arse.”

Harry laughed.  “Wait, you’re doing all of this to get better at quidditch?  I thought you liked skateboarding.”

Draco shrugged.  “I’m sure skateboarding will be fun enough once I get the hang of it, but I’m mostly using it for training.”

“Merlin, you must really want to be Seeker.”

Draco looked uncomfortable for a moment.  “Well… yeah.  I’ve always wanted to be team Seeker.  I won’t let it ruin our friendship if you beat me, but I’m not going to give it up, either.”

“I think it’s brilliant,” Harry decided.  “We can compete for the position every year, and that will force us both to keep getting better and better.  Slytherin will be better off for it.”

Draco smiled in relief, but also in eagerness.  “Yeah, I think so too.  Maybe we can both go pro if we push each other hard enough.”

“Maybe,” Harry said, “but I want to beat Professor Snape’s mastery record more.”

“Teacher’s Pet.”

Harry was just about to grab a skateboard and give the park a try, when an owl swooped down and landed in front of Draco.

Harry didn’t recognize the owl from Hogwarts, so he had no idea who had written to his friend.

Draco took the letter and paled.  “Dad!  The aurors are coming!”

Chapter Text

Draco scrunched up Percy’s warning and ran over to his father.  “The Ministry is doing a raid on us today!” he called out.  “They’re already on their way!”

His father looked both calm and slightly amused in the face of Draco’ panic.

“I know, son.  It’s alright.  He have nothing to hide.”

“We… we don’t?” Draco asked.  He remembered the Ministry raids from when he was little.  They always had both of his parents stressed and paranoid for days afterwards.  They always forced Draco to retake his lessons on which words he was allowed to say in public.

“Is everything alright?” Harry asked, looking worried.

Draco’s father smiled at them both, reassuring but with a sharp edge to it.

“We’ll be fine, Harry.  Don’t worry about it.  Some factions at the Ministry are using the recent disturbances at Hogwarts as cause to stir up old rumors, that’s all.  Some aurors are about to arrive to take a look around.”

Harry frowned.  “Because they still believe that you’re a Death Eater?”

“That’s right.”

“Even though you’ve been looking out for me all year?”

“It seems so.”

“Well, that’s bullshit.”

Draco’s father smirked.  Draco got a sinking feeling in his gut that there was a reason why his father had suggested that they invite Harry over today.

He had known about this raid for a while, and he hadn’t said anything.

“How did you find out about this, Draco?” his father asked.

Draco handed over Percy’s hastily scrawled note.  “Percy Weasley warned me.  Apparently his dad is in the raiding party, and he overheard something at the Ministry today.”

“A Weasley tipped you off?  Remind me to never question your methods in gaining allies again, Son.  Well done.”

His father tossed Percy’ note into the air and set it on fire.  “Best not to risk getting your friend in trouble over this.  These raids are supposed to be a surprise, after all.”

Draco rolled his eyes.  “Have you ever been surprised by one?”

“Not particularly, no,” his father admitted.  “It pays to be informed.  Harry, if anyone gives you a hard time for being here, let me know immediately.  Hey have no right to harass you.”

“Yes, Sir,” Harry said, squaring his shoulders and scowling at nothing in particular.

Merlin, he was on the war path, wasn’t he?  And Draco’s father wasn’t stopping him.

Just great.

Multiple cracks of apparition sounded by the front gate, muffled by distance.

Dobby appeared, his hands wringing, to inform them of their uninvited visitors.

“Show them in,” his father said calmly.  “Bring them straight here; no detours.”

Dobby nodded and disappeared.

Soon a procession of aurors were filing around the side of the manor, looking stern and disgruntled.

They had probably been hoping that Father would come crawling to them grovelling and begging for forgiveness.

That was not the Malfoy way.  It was especially not the Malfoy-with-connections way.

“What a surprise to see you all here,” Draco’s father said smoothly.  “My son and his friend were just about to try out their new… skate park, and I feel that supervision is necessary.  Would you care to join me?”

Draco’s father gestured to the outdoor lounge area which had been rearranged to keep the skate park in view from all of the seats.

Draco put on a brave face, even though the last thing he wanted was to give the aurors something to laugh at him about when he inevitably fell.

A balding head of distinctive red hair caught his eye.  “Hi Mr. Weasley!  It’s good to see you again.  How’s Fred doing?”

Mr. Weasley shifted uncomfortably, whether from the sudden attention or the reminder that a Malfoy had recently been instrumental in saving one of his kid’s lives, Draco couldn’t say.

He didn’t feel bad, though.  He had hated these raids as a small child, they’d given him nightmares, and Draco had done a lot to help out the Weasley family this past year.  Whether Mr. Weasley had volunteered for this raid or been dragged along, Draco hoped he felt bad about it.

“I’m afraid this is more of a hands-on visit than an idle chat,” Scrimgeour growled, eyeing Draco and Harry suspiciously.

“What is all this, anyway?” a terrifying man with a fake eye and big limp that Draco didn’t recognize asked.

“Alistair, I thought you’d retired,” Draco’s father said silkily.

“Retired from active field work, Malfoy,” the cripple replied, tapping just beneath his fake eye.  “Been brought in as a ‘special consultant’ to make sure this search is conducted thoroughly.  You didn’t answer my question.  This looks like a battle training arena.”

“It’s a muggle form of entertainment,” Draco’s father said.  “It’s called a skate park.  It is designed to aid in jumps and tricks to be performed while balanced on a wheeled board.  It is apparently all the rage, these days.”

“A muggle game, is it?” Mr. Weasley asked.  “How does it work?  Does someone keep score?”

“Arthur, enough,” Scrimgeour snapped.  “We’ve got more important things to be doing than ogling so-called muggle oddities.”

“I should certainly hope so,” Draco’s father drawled, “as you’ve made it abundantly clear that this isn’t a social call.  I presume you have the proper paperwork in order for me to peruse?”

“Yes, yes,” Scrimgeour said, shoving a messy pile of papers at Draco’s father’s chest.  “You won’t weasel out of this on a technicality.”

“I wouldn’t dream of it,” Draco’s father said, not even glancing at the paperwork.  “What is all of this about?”

“We have reason to believe that you might be hiding dark artifacts on your premises,” Scrimgeour snarled.

“Oh?” Draco’s father asked mildly, “and what reason would that be?”

“That is none of your business.”

“It was an anonymous tip,” Mr. Weasley said with a huff.  “Please, Lucius.  This is just a routine search.  After what happened at Hogwarts, everyone is on edge.”

“Mr. Malfoy tried to warn everyone that something bad was going to happen at Hogwarts,” Harry said, taking a step forward.  “I did too.  None of you listened to us.  You turned my own concerns against me, and started an investigation against the only teacher who was actively working to keep me safe!  I won’t let you do that again.”

“Harry,” Mr. Weasley said gently.  “This is different.”

“Is it?” Harry challenged, raising his chin.  “Is it different?  It seems to me like past mistakes, past rumors, are enough to overshadow the good work people are currently doing.  Mr. Malfoy was cleared of all charges against him a decade ago!  Longer, even!  He has had ample opportunity to hurt me, but he hasn’t.  He has had a full year to try to brainwash me into loving dark magic or hating muggles, but he hasn’t.  He and his son made me a muggle-inspired mechanical bat last year.  He made his son a skate park.  He allowed Draco to take muggle karate lessons with me, and to become with the muggle students in the class.  Draco has been studying muggle biology and science.  I’m sick of the people I care about being targeted for no good reason!”

“Easy there, Lad,” Scrimgeour said gruffly, while the crippled man stared at Harry as if his scar held all of the answers to the universe.  “You’re too young to understand what’s going on here.”

“I’m old enough to understand bullying when I see it,” Harry said.  “I think the readers of the Prophet to understand that, too, when I tell them all about this.  Keep that in mind while you’re taking your perfectly legal little look around.”

Draco had never been more proud to be Harry’s friend.

Chapter Text

Harry stalked the aurors like a panther as they made their way through Malfoy Manor, looking for anything unprofessional or suspicious that he could report.

The aurors were annoyed by his presence; they kept asking if he and Draco wouldn’t rather be playing somewhere else.

Harry took that a sign that he was needed exactly where he was.

He was able to pick up on quite a bit about each auror as they went, too.  Mr. Weasley was passive and easily distracted but was also inquisitive and observant.  He seemed to be stuck in the middle of this whole thing.

Scrimgeour was on a mission.  He was desperate to find something incriminating against the Malfoys, probably to save face against leading the charge against Professor Snape, who had been publicly vindicated as a hero, last year.  The man needed a win more than he needed the truth, and that made him dangerous.

Moody was something else, entirely.  He was like Scrimgeour but with all of the political ambitious swapped out for simple vindictive paranoia.  He was also dangerous, but Harry was more afraid of his wand than of anything he would write in a report.  His eye was magical, too.  Harry could tell by the way he looked at things, the way he zeroed in on enchanted objects while barely acknowledging non-magical items at all.

It stood out to Harry, then, when Moody didn’t even linger at the doorway to the Mael Fae cave.  He couldn’t see it.  Not even his magical eye could see it.

Harry wondered, once again, why he could.  He always felt like a part of himself had gone missing down there, like he needed to confront the terrifying Malfoy forebears to get it back.

He knew enough about old, dark magic to ignore the pull, but it still fascinated him.

Draco’s terror in merely describing a glimpse of what was down there was enough to pique his curiosity.

Academically, of course.

The aurors finished with the main areas of the house and began poking away at the attic and other little nooks and crannies.

“I see you have some portraits in storage,” Moody said, eying the blank space across from Harry’s guest room as they made their way past it to yet another storage room.

“Ah, yes.  My father’s archaic beliefs were upsetting my son and his friends,” Mr. Malfoy replied, waving a dismissive hand.

Harry nodded to confirm.

“And what beliefs are those?” Scrimgeour growled.

Mr. Malfoy paused, frowning.  “You know my father was a true believer in You-Know-Who’s cause.  You know what he did to me because of it.  Suffice it to say, Abraxas was not pleased with my son’s choice in half-blood friends and muggle hobbies.  I confined him to his portrait and moved him to the attic.  He’s welcome to complain the rats.”

“Odd you didn’t do that earlier, given all he ‘forced’ you to do,” Moody said, looking pointedly at Mr. Malfoy’s left arm.

“It has been rather freeing.  Familial obligations have been so deeply ingrained within my wife and I that I suppose it took our son being bullied by the dead to see things clearly.  It is a welcome change.”

Moody and Scrimgeour scowled, but Mr. Weasley looked thoughtful as he looked Mr. Malfoy over.

“I bet Fred and George would love the skate park,” Draco said casually.  “Do you think they’d be allowed to come visit sometime, Mr. Weasley?  I’m sure you or your wife could come too.”

Mr. Weasley looked startled at the offer.

So did Mr. Malfoy, but he recovered faster.  “That’s a lovely idea, Draco.  What do you say, Arthur?  I’m sure all of your children could find things to keep them entertained for a few hours, even if skateboarding doesn’t interest some of them.”

“Oh!  That’s… I mean.  I’d have to talk to Molly of course.  Do you still have the plans you used to construct the ramps?”

“Arthur!” Scrimgeour snapped.

“Right!  Right.  Now might not be the best time for all of that, Lucius.  You understand…”

“All too well.  Fear not, Arthur, I will owl you copies of the muggle plans.  Shall we continue on, gentlemen?”

“Oh yes, let’s,” Moody said, rolling his human eye while his magical one stayed eerily focused.

It made Harry shiver.

Creepy.

The rest of the raid went as uneventfully as Harry imagined these things could get.

Obviously, Mr. Malfoy wasn’t hiding anything, so obviously the aurors didn’t find anything.

Especially not with Harry watching them to make sure they didn’t plant any evidence.  Harry had caught enough glimpses of Aunt Petunia’s daytime television shows be on the lookout for that kind of thing.

As it turned out, as the group had made their way to Mr. Malfoy’s study to finish up their verbal sparring, Harry’s vigilance was proven justified.  He noticed Moody casually slip a non-descript quill onto Mr. Malfoy’s desk, so Harry just as casually slipped the quill into his own pocket for safe keeping, when none of the adults were looking.

Perks of being a kid.

He half expected Moody to make a big show about sensing something dark on Mr. Malfoy’s desk, or to hone in on the fact that Harry had taken the quill with the help of his magical eye.

Neither happened, leaving Harry to believe that the quill wasn’t a dark artifact at all, but maybe some form of surveillance device, instead.  He wondered if it could allow the aurors to listen in on any conversation happening within Mr. Malfoy’s study, or if it was paired with another quill that copied everything Mr. Malfoy wrote into a Ministry file somewhere.

Harry knew all too well from his time with the Dursleys how innocent words could be twisted and used against someone when people were looking for an excuse to dole out punishments.  He wasn’t about to let that happen.

The aurors left, and Harry watched until the last of them apparated away before signalling to Mr. Malfoy and Draco to remain silent.

Using a different quill and spare bit of parchment, Harry scrawled out what he had seen, and that the suspicious quill was currently in his pocket.

Mr. Malfoy gave Harry an inscrutable look and cast a barrage of spells before holding out his hand for the quill.

Harry gingerly handed it over.

Mr. Malfoy cast more spells before ordering Dobby to return the quill to his study in a special desk drawer where it couldn’t be confused with a regular quill.

“I’m impressed, Harry,” Mr. Malfoy said, sounding genuinely grateful and impressed.

Harry smiled up at the man.  “Thank, Sir.  I thought they were acting extra suspicious.  Good thing people underestimate kids, right?”

Mr. Malfoy nodded gravely, before his dour face slowly morphed into a smirk.  “Indeed.  I’ll do my best to never make that mistake again.  I think its time we started going over the daily papers together whenever you visit.  You are a part of this political charade whether you like it or not, and it would be best if you are kept aware of what people are saying and why.”

Harry beamed with pride.  “I’d love that, Sir!  I want to be able to help, and I can’t do that very well if I don’t know what’s going on.”

“You’ve been doing what I told you last summer, and reading the articles with possible motivations in mind?”

“Yes, Sir.  It’s helped a lot, but I don’t know enough of the names, let alone everyone’s history and allegiances to get the full picture yet.”

“That’s to be expected.  It should have given you a strong enough foundation to build your knowledge off of, though. We can work on filling in your knowledge gaps, rather than having to start from scratch.  No doubt we’ll interpret certain things differently, too, which will broaden both of our insights.  Draco, would you like to join us?”

Draco sighed but nodded.  “It sounds super boring, but yeah, I should know what people are saying about our family and about Harry, too.  We’ll still have time for flying and skateboarding though, right?”

Mr. Malfoy chuckled.  “I promise.”

Chapter Text

Severus was getting the worst of both worlds.   He couldn’t decide if it was the whole bloody world that was out to make him miserable, or just Albus Dumbledore.

Probably both and then some.

Gilderoy Lockhart was going to be the Defense against the Dark Arts Professor, and that was bad.  Remus Lupin was going to be the new grounds keeper, and that was infinitely worse.

Severus had skimmed through Lockhart’s books and was utterly convinced that the man was a fraud.  His students would suffer academically under his tutelage, and Severus swore that if he ended up as a thinly disguised vampire in Lockhart’s next piece of fiction, he was going to sue the man into oblivion.

The only reason Severus had considered Lockhart and Lupin to be equally bad choices for the DADA spot was that Lockhart’s incompetence was balanced out by Lupin’s innate danger.

Now, Lupin would not be teaching the students anything.  He would be on school grounds, endangering everyone, while keeping the thestrals fed.

It was a poor trade all around.

Not only was he going to have to put up with yet another pompous arse that thought he was better than everyone else around him, while working overtime to keep his students safe, but he’d been roped into making wolfsbane every month, too.

He couldn’t even assign the bloody potion as detention work to the older students, for a myriad of reasons.  The brewing process was too long and complex to be completed within an evening, it would be catastrophically dangerous to risk the potion being brewed ineffectively, and the fact that Hogwarts was now employing a werewolf was a closely guarded secret.

Severus had to imagine that if word got out that Dumbledore was actively hiding this from parents, there would be a revolt, especially after last year, but Severus was helpless to spread the word.

His oaths and obligations bound him to discretion.

Still, his Slytherins were known for their cleverness on good authority.

If he was careful, he could drop hints.

Someone would figure it out; hopefully before a child maimed or eaten.

It was a pity that Severus could not get into Harry’s vault to pre-read the letter the wolf had written for the boy, but Severus was reasonably confident that he could protect Harry from any lies or misconceptions that might lie within.

Harry had finally gotten back to him about visiting Diagon Alley, wrapped in a rambling apology about not responding sooner and being grateful but not wanting to waste Severus’ time.

Honestly, the boy’s anxious groveling set Severus’ teeth on edge.

Some Head of House he was, utterly unable to instill a little confidence into his favorite student.

Maybe plying the child with ice cream after their visit to the bank would be enough to convince him that he wasn’t a waste of time.

Couldn’t hurt.

He could use the extra time to make sure Harry kept his guard up when he returned to school.

Both Lockhart and Lupin would want to get their claws into the boy, although for vastly different reasons.

Lockhart would want to both use and manage Harry’s fame in relation to his own.

Lupin would want to relive his glory days and conv8nce himself that he hadn’t dropped the quaffle and then face-planted into the pitch for the past ten years of absence from Harry’s life.

Not that Severus condoned any werewolf spending time with children anytime close to a full moon, but Merlin, Lupin had been one of Potter Sr.’s best friends.  Surely he could have spend the five minutes necessary to check up on the boy and realize that the Dursleys were neglectful, abusive, unsuitable guardians.

Severus closed his eyes mournfully.  He hadn’t spared those five minutes, either.

It was a miracle that Harry liked him at all.

Which was all the more reason to protect Harry from growing unduly attached to the wolf.

Severus was now a permanent fixture in Harry’s life.  Nothing short of his own death would be enough to stop Severus from watching over the child.

He did not trust Lupin to do the same.

No, he would abandon Harry again sooner or later.  Severus was certain of it.

Strengthening his resolve to not hex Petunia Dursley nee Evans on sight, Severus walked briskly up to the Dursley residence and knocked impatiently on their front door.

Hopefully Dursley was not so foolish as to point a firearm at him this time, or he would hex the bastard, consequences be damned.

Harry opened the door with a Slytherin grin and quietly slipped outside.

“You didn’t tell them I was coming, did you?” Severus asked dryly.

Harry tugged at Severus’ sleeve to speed their getaway.  “Nope.  They go ballistic enough when the Malfoys visit, and I remember how they reacted to you last time.  I may have implied that I would be hanging out with Draco all day today.”

“That was probably wise.  Shall we?”

Harry nodded and shifted his grip from Severus’s robe sleeve to his arm.

Severus apparated them directly to the Gringott’s lobby.

Chapter Text

Harry had missed this, being out in wizarding public with no one but Professor Snape to look out for him.

It made him feel all special and nostalgic.

He remembered how awed he had been at every little magical thing, and how quickly his trepidation about the tall, stern-looking man had morphed into a steadfast respect and a fierce need to earn his respect in return.

Harry had done his best.  He had even done a good job at it, as far as potions and embracing the Slytherin ideals were concerned.

He knew he still had lots to learn, but that was what school and growing up were for.

Professor Snape had given Harry his vault key last year, and Harry had been very careful not to lose it.

He presented it to the waiting goblin with a flourish and smiled cheerily at Professor Snape as they climbed into the cart.

“I bet I could fly down to my vault before this cart could make it,” Harry said.

“I bet you’d die a horrible death trying,” Professor Snape deadpanned.  He was so funny.

“Gringotts has multiple layers of security.  Neither your broom not your person would make it to your vault, let alone back out again, in one piece,” their goblin guide informed them.

“Well, hypothetically, in an identical but unwrapped environment, heading to something that loomed like my vault, but with no goblin diligence protecting my wealth, I bet I could win by flying.”

“Save it for the quidditch season.”

“I will!  Er, rather I will if I make it.  There is stiff competition within Slytherin this year.”

Professor Snape gave a vindictive grin.  “I know.  I’ve seen you fly, Harry.  I’m sure you’ll make the team.”

Harry shrugged.  “Draco’s been practicing super hard, and Cass wants it bad, too.”

“Are you planning to give up before even trying, Mr. Potter?”

“No, Sir.”

“Good, then don’t talk like that.  Aim for your goal and you might yet hit the target.  Focus on what you don’t want, and you’re likely to hit that, too.  It will be worse than shooting blind.”

“I want it, Sir.  It’s just hard, you know?  Draco’s got a private quidditch pitch in his back yard.  His parents made him a muggle skate park because he thinks it will help his flying somehow.  I can sit on my toy broom while I do my homework.”

“From what I’ve heard, you’re a natural at flying anyways.  Buying yourself a quidditch book to look over high-level maneuvers and team plays might serve you well.  There are always ways to stay diligent, even if one must get creative about it.”

Harry grinned.  “I can do that!  If I male the team, will you come to my matches to cheer me on?”

Professor Snape looked amused.  “I’m Slytherin’s Head of House, Harry.  I go to all of the games.  But yes, I will cheer for you.”

“What all do you think we’ll find in my vault?” Harry asked, craving his neck to see the bowels of Gringotts as they zoomed along.

“Family heirlooms and letters, most likely,” Professor Snape said.  “Maybe some legal documents you’ll need to look over when you get older.”

Harry nodded.  He adored the wand holder his mum had made as a student, and the letters from his parents still got reread every couple of weeks.  Harry wondered what other treasures were hidden amongst the gold.

It would be fun going through everything with Professor Snape, no matter what it was.  He always had an interesting story to add about Harry’s mum, and was even getting better about giving small details about his dad, too.

Harry knew they didn’t get along, so he appreciated the effort that Professor Snape was making.  For him.

It made him very proud.

“Do think maybe my mum has some old Charms textbooks like your potions ones?”

“It’s possible,” Professor Snape said indulgently.  “Try not to get your hopes up for anything specific.”

Harry sat back and sighed.  This stupid cart was taking too long.

He really would be faster on a broom.

He shifted again, craning his head back to stare up at the stalactites looming above them in a constantly changing blur.

“If you fall out of this thing, the money to cover the costs of scraping your battered carcass off the rocks is coming out of your vault,” Professor Snape drawled.  “I refuse to pay for your stupidity.”

Harry smiled.  “I know you’d catch me.”

Professor Snape snorted.  “I would.  And then I’d have you scrubbing cauldrons for the rest of your summer until your hands bled as penance for your recklessness and attempts to give me premature heart failure.”

“I bet I could guess what potion I was scraping out of them,” Harry said smugly.

“You probably could, you insufferable brat.  Have you read the new books I sent you?”

Harry nodded.  “I’m almost finished updating my notes.  There was a lot of new stuff to cross-reference.”

“Perhaps Hogwarts should hire you to write our own line of Potions textbooks.”

“Could I add sarcastic comments like you and mum used to?”

Professor Snape chuckled.  “Knowing Dumbledore, he’d probably allow that.”

“Here we are,” their goblin guide said disinterestedly as their cart slowed to a stop in front of Harry’s vault.

Suddenly, Harry was nervous about what he might find inside.

Chapter Text

Severus followed Harry inside the boy’s family vault, lingering near the entrance until he knew for certain what Harry was willing to allow him to touch. 

Harry knew better than to touch any of the artifacts before having them checked for dark magic or hexes, but Severus kept a close eye on him regardless.

Accidents happened.

They had been in a bit of a rush the last time they’d been here, and Harry had been utterly overwhelmed with the revelation that magic was real and was his birthright.

Severus looked warily at the little shelf that contained the letters from Lupin, Black, and Alice Longbottom.  He assumed that Harry had read over the letters from his parents and grandparents already, knew that Harry would get angry with him if he thought Severus had hidden these other letters from him, but each one came with a heavy conversation, and Severus was not comfortable allowing Harry to read them alone and without context.

Who knew what grand lies Black had spewed?  What idle promises Lupin had made?  What sentimental hopes Alice Longbottom had expressed regarding her future with her own son?

No, Severus needed to be here when Harry read these letters, needed to know what they said, so they could talk them through together.

“Professor Snape?” Harry called out.  “There is a pile of books over here.  Can you double-check that they’re safe?”

Severus shoved off the wall he’d been leaning against and examined the books in question.  It was a haphazard pile of various textbooks, novels, journals and even a grimoire.

Severus blanched at the title scrawled across the grimoire’s cover.  “James Potter’s Big Book of Pranks.”

Lovely.

Severus quickly checked himself.  Harry was not a bully, and he was not reckless.  Those pranks had been hell to be subjected to in the halls of Hogwarts but learning them might keep Harry safe when the Dark Lord returned for real, and learning the mechanics of spell creation would allow Harry to feel close to his father in an academically stimulating way.

“What’s that?” Harry asked, looking at the grimoire over Severus’ arm.  His little face fell.  “Oh.  I’m sorry.”

“It’s alright, Harry.  This book might have some useful information in it for you.  You’ll have detention until you’re my age if I catch you using anything in here against your fellow students unprovoked, but I don’t expect you to hide from your father’s legacy on my account.”

“Could… maybe we could look it over together?” Harry asked shyly, hopefully.

Severus gave him a soft, lopsided smile.  “Is this an attempt at securing extra tutoring from me?”

Harry bit his lip as his eyes danced.  “Maybe.  I like to learn things, and you’re really smart.  You made your own spells too, didn’t you?”

“I did.  Most of mine were undoubtedly worse than anything your father created.  I won’t be sharing those with you until you’re much older, so don’t ask.”

Harry nodded.  “I won’t.  What about Mum?  Did she make her own spells, too?”

“Not as many as your father and I.  Her genius lay more in adapting existing spells to be used in unconventional ways.  She had a knack for stringing together a handful of basic spells and achieving elegant, sophisticated results.

“Spellcasting is about will, more than anything else, and your mother could think in very abstract, metaphorical ways.  Your wand holster, for example, contains a hugging charm in its design.

Harry gave a startled laugh.  “What?  Why?”

Severus smirked.  “Lily had found a charm that would animate a stuffed bear to hug a child back if squeezed.  I’m half-convinced she was researching for some sentimental drivel she could make for me for Christmas.  I was fourteen.  Anyways, your mother had this little muggle toy called a Chinese finger trap, where if you stuck your finger into it and tried to pull it straight out, the trap would tighten around your finger.  The trick was to push your finger further in before pulling it out.

“I’m sure you’ve noticed that your wand holster works the same way.  You have to push the wand in a little before it can be released.  Well, your mother combined the idea of the Chinese finger trap with the idea of the hugging bear, so if someone tries to force the wand from its holster, whether by yanking it or by summoning it, that ‘squeeze’ from the trap activates the hugging charm, which locks the wand firmly in place.  It is a very clever creation, especially for a fourth year, and it required no knew spells at all.”

Harry looked at the holster strapped to his forearm.  “Just some creative thinking and muggle engineering.  Draco said the same thing the other day.”

Severus nearly choked.  “What?”

Harry grinned.  “I went to the Malfoy’s the other day, and Draco showed me some muggle books on physics and engineering he’d picked up.  Chemistry and biology, too.  He seems to think that he can one-up McGonagall and Granger in class if he can work out how muggles break things down into parts and make them work.”

“And his father… allowed this?”

Harry leaned forward conspiratorially.  “His father built him an entire muggle skatepark in their back yard just to help Draco fly better.  Between you and me, I think he might be a little spoiled.”

Shaking his head, Severus laughed.  “I may need to invest in ice skates for the afterlife, after all.  Merlin.  Alright, take the prank-grimoire with you.  The other books are safe too.  Anything else grab your eye?”

Harry picked out some heirloom jewelry pieces, more books, and Fleamont Potter’s potion journals.

Severus could not help but be proud of the boy’s budding potions obsession.  He knew Lily would be proud of her boy, too.

And the Potters too, he supposed.

When Harry discovered a pile of invention prototypes, Severus was just as baffled as the boy as to what most of them did or what purpose they served.  Clearly, Harry had some Albus-level eccentrics in his family tree.

Harry decided to take a few of them to puzzle over, but left most of them safely behind, where they would be safe until he could work them out later.

Remembering the property deeds and invention patents on the shelf with the letters, Severus handed them to Harry to look over.

Harry rifled through the patents until he found the ones that matched what he was taking out of the vault but didn’t read them.  Grinning, Harry explained that he wanted to see how much he could figure out on his own first, before reading the patents thoroughly.

Severus approved.

Rushing to books and to others for the answers to life was far less valuable than figuring out how to figure them out on one’s own.  Of course, outside insight and help was sometimes necessary, and was important to seek out and consider, but never at the expense of one’s own mind.

Harry re-topped off his money sack and took one final look around the vault.

“I think that’s everything I want for now, Sir,” Harry said.

“Excellent.  I have a few more personal letters for you, that I think we should read through together and discuss.  Perhaps at Fortescue’s?”

Harry looked more anxious than excited by the prospect but nodded politely.

Severus wondered why.

Chapter Text

Harry followed Professor Snape reluctantly, feeling both nervous and guilty.

He had finally read the letters from his parents last Christmas, but he still had not touched the letters from his grandparents.  It felt wrong to read the letters of strangers before he finished reading the letters from blood family.

And he should have read them by now!  There was no reason not to.  He cherished the letters from both of his parents.  They had loved Harry, and had promised that they always would, no matter what.

Harry had no reason to fear that the letters from his grandparents would be any different.

Except, his mum’s parents were Aunt Petunia’s parents, too.  They had been muggles, like Petunia.  Normal, like Petunia.

What if they didn’t like having a magical grandson?  What if they had taken one look at him as a baby, and known he was a Freak?

And his dad was a bully.  He had been super mean to Professor Snape when they were kids, and from what he could tell, Professor Snape had been a lot like Harry.

What if James Potter had learned his prejudice from his parents?  What if Harry was too short, too awkward, or too Slytherin for them?

Harry hadn’t wanted to risk it.

But now, his grandparents’ letters were in his nightstand at the Dursleys, and the letters from his godfather, godmother, and one of his dad’s random friends were with him and Professor Snape, about to be read together and discussed.

Maybe it was better this way.

It would hurt less if his parent’s friends rejected him.

They weren’t family.

Professor Snape could probably tell Harry embarrassing secrets about all three of them, and why it wasn’t worth being sad.

That would be nice.

Professor Snape ordered them each an ice-cream, less fancy than last year when the Malfoys had paid, but Harry didn’t care about that.

It was nice of Professor Snape to pay for him at all.  He had just seen firsthand that Harry had plenty of money.

“Find us a booth,” Professor Snape said briskly, “and I’ll set up privacy wards while we go over everything.”

Harry did as he was told, picking something secluded but comfortable.

“You seem nervous,” Professor Snape said.  “Is it spending time with me outside of school or something about the letters, specifically?”

Harry shook his head, violently.  “It’s not you, Sir!  I’d hang out with you every day, if I could.  Honest!  I’m just worried that the people who wrote the letters expected me to be something I’m not, and won’t like what I am?”

“Oh?  And what about yourself to you fear they will find so objectionable?”

“I dunno,” Harry hedged, squirming, and avoiding eye contact as he accepted his ice-cream.  “That I’m a Slytherin?  That I’m not brave?  That I don’t find mean jokes funny?”

“Harry, look at me.  You are one of the bravest children I’ve ever met.”

Harry opened his mouth to protest, but Professor Snape raised a hand to forestall him.

“You are fearless on a broom.  You are always trying new things and opening yourself up to people who think differently than you do.  You have stared down more Ministry officials than the average wizard will meet in their lifetime, and you have refused to back down.  If that’s not bravery, then I don’t know what is.”

Harry frowned as he mulled that over.  He didn’t feel brave, he just… either forgot to be afraid in his excitement or did what needed to be done.  Surely that wasn’t anything special.

“Are you brave, Sir?” Harry asked, needing a point of reference.

Professor Snape stared at him blankly before a sneaky little smirk crept onto his face.  “I have my moments, yes.  That doesn’t mean I’m never scared, or that I’m always planning my bravery in advance.  It just means that I go ahead and do what must be done.”

Harry grinned at his Savior.  He would never be as brave as Professor Snape, he knew, but maybe he could be close, if he kept doing the right thing to help his friends.

“Harry,” Professor Snape said casually, tracing his sundae bowl with his spoon, “what would you think about calling me Severus, when we’re not at school?”

Harry’s eyes grew wide.  “You mean it?  Like friends?”

Professor Snape smiled.  “Yes, like friends.”

“I would like that very much, Sir!” Harry said and then blushed.  “It might take a bit of practice to remember, though.”

“That’s alright.  I appreciate that you are unfailingly polite to me, but I do believe the formality between us to be unnecessary.  We might not be related and I was never considered for the role of your godfather, but I would not mind taking on the role of your pseudo-uncle …one that actually likes you, if that is alright with you.”

Harry could feel tears stinging at his eyes.  He nodded furiously while blinking them away.  “Can I call you Uncle Severus sometimes, maybe?”

“I’d like that, yes, but it is quite the mouthful.  You may shorten it however often you like.”

“Just to Severus or can I call you Uncle Sev?”

Professor Snape’s face softened and got a far-away look.  “Your mother used to call me that.”

“I know,” Harry said.  “She wrote it a lot in the textbooks you gave me.  She liked you a lot, huh?”

“We were best friends, and yes, you may call me Uncle Sev.  Just not in class.  A little formality must be maintained while I am actively teaching you.”

“I think I’m ready to look at the letter now, Uncle Sev.  Thanks.”

“You are very welcome, Harry.  Let’s start with the one from your godmother, shall we?  Alice Longbottom was, is, Neville’s mother.  She was badly injured shortly after your parents were killed and never recovered or else I am certain she would have taken you in.  She was a very kind woman.”

“I’m not the only one to take after my mum, then,” Harry said, thinking of how kindhearted and nurturing Neville could be.

“No, I suppose not.  Would you like me to read the letter aloud? Or would you prefer to read it for yourself first?”

“No, you can read it.  Please.”

“Very well.

“Dear Harry,

It is my hope that you and my Neville will grow up healthy and happy together, becoming the best of friends.  It breaks my heart whenever I look at either one of you to think that someone out there wishes to do you harm.

There might be a taboo on You-Know-Who’s name, but we are not afraid.  We are not backing down.

Your parents are fighting for you, every moment of every day.

We will keep you safe just as we will keep Neville safe.

Nothing else matters.

If that protection costs us our lives, please know that each and every one of us pay that price gladly.

It is okay to mourn us, but do not feel guilty.  This is our choice just as you are our future.

Live free and proud and be happy, that is all we ask of you.

If I am not around when you read this, give Neville a hug from me, and send him my love.

If I am alive, give your doting godmother a hug, too.

Stay strong, little one.  You are never alone.

Your godmother,

Alice Longbottom”

Harry smiled sadly.  “She sounds nice.  You said she got real hurt?  Is there a way I can visit her in the hospital?”

Professor Snape frowned.  “I can put you in touch with Neville’s grandmother, if you’d like.  She’d be a more appropriate person to ask permission for a visit.  I must warn you though, Harry, she did not suffer something so simple as a broken leg or burned face.  Her mind was permanently damaged by very dark magic.  She won’t recognize you.  She probably won’t be able to communicate at all.”

That was awful.  Poor Neville.  No wonder he didn’t like talking about his parents much.  “There isn’t anything anyone can do?”

“No, there isn’t.  The mind is a complicated thing, as is the brain.  We do not even fully comprehend where one ends and the other begins.  People have tried to come up with treatments for such injuries, but thus far, nothing has been effective.”

Harry made a mental note to add muggle and wizarding brain and mind research to his list of books to buy.  There had to be something he could do to help.

Neville deserved to know the woman who had written this letter.

“Okay,” Harry said.  “Next one.”

Chapter Text

Severus looked down at the two remaining unread letters in his hands.  He had no idea which one to read to Harry first.  They each had their own issues.

Should he subject Harry to the manic ravings of a madman who had turned traitor shortly after writing this or to the mild-mannered cowardly liar who had likely made grand promises and followed through on none of them for the sake of not rocking the boat?

Each might hurt Harry in different ways.

With Lupin employed by Hogwarts this year, both subjects were rather likely to come up, though, and Severus would rather be here to offer comfort, the truth, and damage control than to leave Harry to muddle through the complicated feelings and half-truths on his own.

Black first.

That was likely to be the harder blow, which would allow them to end things on a slightly lighter note.

Severus hoped.

“This one is from the man who is in Azkaban for life, for selling your parents out to the Dark Lord and murdering their friend shortly afterward.  I’m not sure what he’ll say, but just know two things.  One, he is a liar and always has been.  And two, he is safely locked away and can’t hurt you, no matter what.  You don’t have to think about him ever again after I read this, if you don’t want to, but if you want to learn more about what happened with your parents, his trial, or anything else, I will help you find whatever answers you seek.  Ready?”

Harry gulped hard but nodded, setting down his spoon so as not to be distracted by half-melting ice-cream as Severus read.

“Here it goes.

“Hey there Little Man!

Your parents are insisting that we write these in case something bad happens to us, but I don’t think we’ve got anything to worry about.  The Marauders always pull through!

You’re in hiding right now, hiding for your life, but you have nothing to worry about.  There are too many people who love you standing between you and the psychotic dick who wants to do you harm.  We’ll never let him touch you.

Besides, with your father’s cloak, and the story behind it, it’s almost like you’re fated to survive.

You can greet Death like a friend in your ripe old age for all of us, yeah?

After you’ve lived a good, long life, and fathered a third generation of little prongslets.

James and I have got a plan.  We’re going to play some sleight of hand for You-Know-Who, and he’s never going to see it coming.

No one ever sees Peter, coming or going.

Perks of being a rat.

I’ll teach you all about muggle ‘magic’ by the time you read this, I’m sure.

I just need a little more practice.

I wasn’t able to keep my baby brother safe from the darkness, so I refuse to make that same mistake with you.

You’re stuck with me, Kiddo.

I’ll be your own person grim, and we’ll play hide and seek until your sides hurt from laughing.

Alright, I think I’ve written long enough to satisfy your mother.

Remember to always solemnly swear that you’re up to no good.

Your Dogfather,

Padfoot

Aka Sirius ‘lady’s man’ Black”

Severus was shaking with rage by the time he finished.

He looked up expecting to see Harry in a similar state, but instead found the boy wearing a thoughtful frown.

“Was that written in code?” Harry asked.  “It didn’t make any sense.”

Severus pursed his lips as he looked over what he’d just read.  Yes, he could see how it would be confusing.

“Come, sit next to me so we can look it over together.  I’ll explain what I know, and we’ll try to figure out some of the rest together, shall we?”

Harry scooted around the table until he was pressed against Severus’ side and leaning high up on his elbows to get a good look at the letter.

“Alright,” Severus said, pointing to the first paragraph.  ‘The Marauders’ was the name of your father’s friend group.  It consisted of James, Sirius Black, Remus Lupin, and Peter Pettigrew.  I’m guessing that’s the Peter mentioned further down, and he is also the friend Black murdered after betraying your parents to The Dark Lord.

“The line about your father’s cloak is odd.  I’m certain it pertains to his invisibility cloak, which makes a stupid kind of sense about hiding effectively, but I can only assume that the part about fate and Death is referencing a wizarding children’s story about three brothers who try to outsmart Death.  In the story, the brother who asks Death for his very own Cloak of Invisibility is able to escape Death, until at the end of a very long and fulfilling life, that brother decides to ‘Greet Death as a friend’ and accept his passing to the next life on his own terms.

“I am uncertain if Black is trying to hide a double meaning in there, or if he is simply being dramatic.

“As for the ‘Prongslet’ line, ‘Prongs’ was your father’s nickname amongst his friends.  I’ve no idea why.  Your father was Prongs, Black was Padfoot, Lupin was Moony, and Pettigrew was Wormtail, I believe.”

Severus frowned as he thought the nicknames over.  Lupin was a werewolf, and they’d had the bloody gall to call him Moony in front of everyone.  It was like they had been begging everyone to discover his secret.

“Wait,” Harry said.  “Wormtail… like a rat’s tail?”

“Maybe,” Severus said.  “Why?”

“There,” Harry said pointing to the letter.  “Black calls Peter a rat.  I thought it was an odd thing to call a friend.  Isn’t it?”

“Black always had a baffling sense of humor, but yes, that is odd.  Perhaps they liked to play a game where they’d pretend to be different animals or something.”

“But a rat?”

“I don’t know, Harry.  It is curious, but Black was also always unstable.  It might have a hidden meaning, or Black might have already decided to turn on his friends and let the mask slip in his wording.  I don’t know.”

“Okay, sorry,” Harry said, scanning the letter some more.  “What’s next?”

Severus sighed, his rage rising again as he reread Black’s words.  “Next is Black claiming that him and your father had a plan to outsmart The Dark Lord.  Either he’s lying, really heavy-handedly I might add, or he had an even weaker character than I had assumed and cracked under the first sign of trouble.

“He didn’t outsmart the Dark Lord.  He didn’t keep you safe.  He outsmarted your father and got him killed.  Got your mother killed.  Almost got you killed.”

“It’s okay,” Harry said kindly, putting his hand on Severus’ arm.  Severus wondered if the boy realized that it was resting directly over his Dark Mark.  Irony upon irony.  “He might have lied, he might have tried to get me killed, but he didn’t.  And he’s in prison where he belongs for what he did do.  He didn’t get away with anything.”

Severus enveloped Harry into a half-hug, scruffing up his hair in the process, just because he could.

He had not yet had the opportunity to take advantage of his freedom to openly treat Harry kindly.

The Dark Lord already knew he was a traitor.

Lucius didn’t, but Lucius fully expected Severus to get on Harry’s good side, so that was no concern.

None of the rest of the Death Eaters had both the courage and the freedom to attack Severus over his association with The-Boy-Who-Lived.

“Is there anything else you have questions about?” Severus asked.

“Why did he call himself my ‘dogfather’?  Was that just a spelling mistake?  Was that part of their animal-make-believe again?” Harry asked.

That was odd, Severus admitted.  Dogfather.  Padfoot.  If ‘Wormtail’ was the nickname for Pettigrew’s rat persona, then Severus supposed ‘Padfoot’ worked equally well for a dog.  ‘Prongs’ would be what, a deer of some sort?  Maybe a boar or a cow.  It sounded like it described antlers the best, but Severus could not discount tusks or horns, either.  And ‘Moony’… only… Moony was real.  Lupin was a real-life, actual werewolf.  He literally turned into a wolf-like beast every single month.  Severus could not imagine Lupin would use a wolf persona in some make-believe game.  He couldn’t imagine him using anything moon-related.

Patronuses, maybe?

It would be odd for Lupin, who had been mauled by Fenrir Greyback of all wolves as a child to conjure a wolf guardian as a manifestation of happiness.

Baffling.

Potter and his friends had always been incomprehensible to Severus.

This was just another example of that.

Perhaps Lupin’s letter would shed further clues as to what Black’s insane ramblings could mean.

At least Harry didn’t seem to be traumatized by Black’s sickening pretense at protective friendship.

He really was a resilient kid.

Chapter Text

Harry was going to read Black’s letter over a few more times once he got back to the Dursleys.  It still didn’t make any sense.

Still, it didn’t hurt the way that Professor Snape seemed to think it would.

Harry didn’t know his godfather.  He didn’t even know his father.

He felt like he kind of knew his mother, thanks to Professor Snape sharing his textbooks and stories, but it still wasn’t a personal kind of knowing.

Sirius Black was a piece of shit for getting his parents killed, but he’d betrayed them, not Harry.

Harry had never known him to trust him enough to be betrayed.

Black was a bad man in the same way that Hitler or Grindelwald were bad men.  They had done horrible things, things that Harry detested, but it was reading about those bad things in a textbook, not like living them himself.

Not like Professor Snape had lived them.

“Alright,” Professor Snape said, “Last one.

“Hello Harry,

My name is Remus Lupin and I am a friend of your father’s. 

Your father has always been a great friend to me and I will be eternally grateful for the sacrifices he has made on my behalf.

I know that for as long as he is alive, I will be welcome in your life.  I hope that will remain true for a very long time, but this is war.

There are no guarantees.

My own place within society is also uncertain.  I have a rare medical condition that prevents me from offering to be your fulltime guardian, should anything happen to your parents, but I have full confidence that your godfather, Sirius Black, will take good care of you, if it becomes necessary.

Either way, I will check in on you as often as I am able, I promise.

I hope this war ends quickly, and that it never touches you directly.  I hope you grow up in a peaceful world, a tolerant world, where you will not be judged by the purity of your blood or the proclivity of your magic.

You deserve that future.

You deserve the future that your parents are fighting for.

I doubt I will ever have children of my own, so you are likely as close to a son as I will ever get.

Sleep well Harry and grow into the type of person that will make your parents proud.

Remus Lupin

‘Uncle Moony’”

Harry frowned as he mulled the letter over.

“What are you thinking?” Professor Snape asked gently.

“What kind of sickness does Lupin have; do you know?”  Harry asked.  “It’s just, I don’t want to be mean if he was going through something awful, but I dunno, it sounds like everything he said was full of self-pity and blaming everyone else, but without having the courage to just come out and say it.  I’ve known people like that, you know?  I was always afraid of becoming someone like that.  It’s why I never complained about the Dursleys.  I wanted to be in control of my own life, at the end of the day.  If I blamed everything on them, then it was like I couldn’t take credit for anything good I did, either.”

Professor Snape looked both sad and relieved to hear Harry say that.

“Lupin has always been like that, Harry.  He claims the moral high ground without putting in the work or risk to maintain it.  He rarely bullied me directly, but he never stopped his friends from doing it.  He never distanced himself from them until they improved.  I am glad you can see it for what it is and won’t fall for his pathetic act.”

“What do you mean?” Harry asked.  What did it matter if he believed Lupin’s letter or not?

“Well,” Professor Snape said slowly, “the thing is, now that Hagrid has been fired and arrested, Headmaster Dumbledore has convinced the Board of Directors to hire Lupin as the new groundskeeper.  He’s coming to Hogwarts this fall, and I’m guessing he’ll want to get to know you.”

Harry scoffed.  “He could have introduced himself to me at any time.  Why would he want to start now?  And if he’s so sick, how can he do Hagrid’s job?  Or did he get better?”

“He didn’t get better.  Harry, I can’t tell you about Lupin’s sickness.  It’s a secret, and I was coerced into taking a vow of secrecy.  A magically binding vow.”

Harry paled.  “Someone made you do that?  I won’t ask anything else about it, I promise.”

Professor Snape gave Harry a look.  “You’re going to try to figure it out on your own, aren’t you?”

Harry blushed.  “Maybe.  Is that bad?  He brought it up in his letter.  It’s not like I’m really prying, am I?”

“It’s a good idea,” Professor Snape said firmly.  “You deserve to know the truth, and when you learn it, I hope you tell your friends about it, too.”

Harry chewed his lip and leaned forward to drag his ice-cream across the table to where he now sat.  That meant that Lupin’s sickness was dangerous.  Professor Snape valued privacy, but he valued keeping Harry and the other Slytherins safe more.  If Lupin’s sickness was harmless, he would encourage Harry to leave it alone.

Was it contagious?  That seemed like an awfully large risk for Hogwarts to take in hiring him.

Maybe no one knew?

Was it legal to hide something that could endanger kids like that?

Harry’s pile of subjects to research kept growing and growing.

He might end up spending all of the money in his parents’ vault on books, if this kept up.

The thought of having a library that extensive made him smile.

Chapter Text

For the first time in Draco’s life, he was more excited about someone else’s birthday than his own.

He had turned twelve at school, drown out between the false accusations against Professor Snape and the dragon‘s rampage.

Draco’s parents had offered to throw Draco a massive party to make up for the oversight, but Draco, surprising both them and himself, had turned them down.

They’d be having a small make-up birthday for him this weekend, but Draco’s true excitement was from helping to plan Harry’s surprise party at the end of July.

On top of being excited to show Harry the joy of an over-the-top birthday party just for him, this was also a perfect time opportunity to prove to his father that Draco was old enough and careful enough to be trusted with some family secrets.

Draco knew his father kept them from him, knew it was because he was too little and got excited and talked too much.  But Draco wasn’t a little kid anymore!  He could handle the responsibility; he wouldn’t tell.

He hadn’t told anyone that Harry was a parselmouth all year last year, and that was a big secret!  Surely that meant he was ready to start being treated as a grownup.

So, instead of telling Harry everything about the party he was planning, Draco watched Harry like a hawk as they scoured the local muggle library together for interesting books, searching for clues as to what would make the absolute best presents ever.

He still needed to be subtle, though, so he made a show of grabbing several books of his own.

It was still odd to him to have interests that didn’t precisely align with Harry’s.

Last year, they had been inseparable, but now Draco kept being tugged towards the challenge of understanding, taking apart, and rebuilding physical objects, whether through transfiguration spells or muggle mechanics and engineering, while Harry was more and more becoming interested in healing and medicine, on top of his still vast obsession with potions in general.

It worried Draco, that they might want to take different elective classes than each other next year.

Seeing a dragon in person had certainly rekindled Draco’s fascination with the beasts, and while he knew that Care of Magical Creatures would never allow animals that dangerous near students, he had hope that the class would still be interesting.

Draco wasn’t sure if Harry would want to take the class, though.  Harry was far more interested in helping people than creatures and tended to see everything as potential potion ingredients and nothing more, unless it could speak.

As Draco went about his spying, he began to understand why his mother had always seemed almost as excited about Draco’s birthday as he was, himself.

It was fun to try to figure out what Harry would like best, without tipping him off.

The anticipation of Harry’s joy was enough to make Draco giddy.

He could hardly concentrate enough to do more than glance at his own books, even though they looked very interesting.  He’d have time to read them later, when he was alone.

Harry, meanwhile, was utterly engrossed in his book on childhood mental development issues, wiggling in his seat in the way he did when he was really trying to concentrate.  It made it easy for Draco to sneak a peek at the other titles Harry had gathered around himself.

Harry didn’t think he was off, did he?  The amount of information on muggle brain science and psychology were concerning.

Draco didn’t know how to convince his friend that he was normal, other than treating him normally, but he already did that!

Something specific must be bothering Harry.

Draco didn’t want to pry, but he did want to help, so he added it to his growing list of things to watch out for.

Hopefully they’d be able to vent a little energy and frustration during their next karate lesson.  Draco always felt super relaxed after he’d been able to hit things, especially things that looked and sounded like Piers Polkiss.

“Do you need help looking up anything specific?” Draco asked, after ten more minutes of silent studying.

“Hmm?  Oh, no.  I’m not really sure what I’m looking for, yet.  I’ll know it when I find it.”

“Uh huh.  Mind if I take a peek anyways?”

“Yeah, sure.  Just don’t move my bookmarks.”

“Will do!”

Draco grabbed a book from Harry’s stack at random and began flipping through it.

He was half-way through the section on learning disabilities when one of Harry’s bookmarks caught his eye.

He read the section over more closely, certain he knew why Harry had marked it, but not wanting to make assumptions.

“Why’d you bookmark dyslexia?” he asked.

Harry blushed.  “Oh.  It’s silly, really, but I was thinking it sounded like Greg, dontcha think?  If he already knows something, or can figure it out with his hands or in his head, he's pretty smart, but reading instructions and writing out his thoughts really screws him up.”

“I was thinking the same thing,” Draco said.  “Is there muggle medicine that could help him?”

“I’m not sure.  That book didn’t mention anything, but it’s a bit older.  I’ll have to look up more info on it.  I was thinking about brainstorming potion ideas for it, though, to show Professor Snape, but I don’t know enough about how the brain works yet to know which ingredients to use.”

“All of this is to help Greg, then?”

“Well, no… I also read a letter from my godmother the last time I was in Diagon… Alice Longbottom, Neville’s mum.  I know they say there’s no way to reverse dark spell damage to the brain or mind, but I still want to try.  It would be nice to meet one of my parents’ friends who didn’t abandon me with the Dursleys or turn evil.”

“I wanna help.”

“You don’t have to.  You’ve got your own interesting things to read.”

“I can read this lot later,” Draco insisted.  “Neville and Greg are my friends, too, and it was my crazy bitch of an aunt who hurt Nev’s parents in the first place.  I want to.”

Harry smiled at Draco as it he had hung the sun after a thousand years of darkness.  “Okay!  Maybe we can figure this out together!”

Draco pulled out a muggle pen and pad of paper and scooted closer.  “Where should we start, then?”

Chapter Text

Harry looked around his room with pride.  It truly was his room now.  The walls were covered in educational potions and herbology posters, and some quidditch ones, too.  His bookcase was displaying a sizable collection of books he found interesting and belong to him alone.  The cork board behind his desk was filled to the brim with pinned notes and tidbits for his research.

His parents’ wedding photo was sitting proudly on his nightstand, with the letters from his family tucked safely inside.

Yes, this was more than just the room he was forced to stay in for a couple months; he had truly claimed it as his own.

Draco had owled Harry yesterday, making sure that they’d go skateboarding after karate lessons this afternoon.

Harry had his fingers crossed that meant Draco had made a breakthrough. He was excited to find out.

A shout sounded from downstairs, making Harry pause.  It was still early for the Malfoys to stop by, but they’d been early before.  Piers rarely bothered coming all the way to Privet Drive before karate lessons.  The rest of Dudley's band of friends hadn’t been around much.

Harry still didn’t know if that was because he wasn’t hiding away this summer and the Dursleys had stopped inviting so many visitors over, or if they had decided that Dudley wasn’t worth their time all on their own.

The Dursleys could just be fighting amongst themselves, Harry supposed.

Sometimes Dudley got jealous of the things the Malfoys took Harry to do, or the things Harry got as gifts or bought with his own money.

Sometimes Uncle Vernon liked to find something to shout about if he was having a bad day.

Uncle Vernon should be at work, though.

Weird.

Unable to resist, Harry crept out of his room and to the top if the stairs to figure out what was going on.

“…you got off the bloody sofa and stopped eating sticks of lard every five minutes you’d be fit enough to actually go out and meet people, too, you fat slob.”

Oh, Merlin.  That was Draco.

And there was only one person he could possibly be talking to.

“Shut the fuck up, Freak!  I don’t care if you and your Freak boyfriend go wave your hands around and make weird noises at each other in white pajamas.  It’s super lame and I’ve got better things to do.”

“Better things like slurping gravy?  Like picking your arse?  Like hanging out with all your friends?!”

“I SAID SHUT UP, FREAK!”

“Dudley!” Aunt Petunia shrieked.  “Keep it down.  What will the neighbors think?”

“But Mom, this Freak is picking on me!”

“I don’t want to hear it, Dudley!  Mrs. Malfoy and I are trying to have a nice chat and some tea.  Figure it out amongst yourselves.  Quietly.”

Dudley threw the telly remote into the wall and stormed up the stairs.  Harry pressed himself back against the hallway wall to keep from getting trampled as Dudley barrelled into his room and slammed the door.

“Oh, hi Harry!” Draco said in that way that meant he was far too pleased with himself.

Harry rolled his eyes.  “You shouldn’t piss him off like that.  One of these days he’s going to punch you in the nose.”

Draco shrugged.  “That’s what the karate is for, isn’t it?”

“What, letting you be a smart-arse without consequences?”

Draco beamed.  “Precisely!”

“Just don’t blame me when you ruin your clothes by bleeding all over them.  We’re still going skateboarding after class, right?”

“Yup!  I can’t wait to show you!”

Harry smiled.  “I can’t wait to see!”

“Harry!” Aunt Petunia called out sweetly, making Harry instantly nervous and distrustful despite knowing she was just putting on a good show for Mrs. Malfoy.  “Make sure you eat some breakfast before you leave!”

“Yes, Aunt Petunia,” Harry called back, equally fake and sweet.  “Thanks for the reminder!”

Draco smirked at him as Harry shuffled into the kitchen long enough to grab a couple of granola bars.

No way he was staying in there with his aunt and Mrs. Malfoy longer than he had to.

“It’s bloody terrifying how easy it was for your mum to wrap my aunt around her little finger,” Harry mumbled, tearing off the wrapper of his first bar.

Draco looked over at his mother, full of pride.  “You complaining?”

“Hell, no!  This is the nicest she’s ever been.  It’s still weird, though.”

“She should have been nice, all along.  Do you think Polkiss will be there today?”

“Piers?  Yeah, why wouldn’t he be?”

Draco shrugged defensively.  “I dunno.  I don’t want him to laugh at me again if I don’t get my thing with the skateboard right on my first try.”

“Does his teasing bother you that badly?”

Draco sighed heavily and scuffed his foot against Aunt Petunia’s just-polished floor.  “Maybe?  He calls me ‘Rich Boy’ and laughs when I fall, but then he acts all nice like it never happened.  I don’t get it.”

Harry shook his head at his friend.  “He’s just not intimidated by your name or money.  He treats everyone that way.”

“He’s nice to you.”

Cocking his head, Harry thought about that.  “He is now, yeah.  When he hung out with Dudley, he’d join in the bullying sometimes, but I think he was just playing along.  I think maybe he’s being careful to make up for that now that Duds isn’t breathing down his neck twenty-four seven.”

“Ugh.  Your cousin is the worst.”

Harry smiled.  “No arguments, there.  Even Aunt Petunia is getting sick of his tantrums, by the sound of things.”

“At least when Mum’s around to scare her straight.”

“I’ll move back into my cupboard if she’s willing to live here fulltime.”

“Your what?”

“Never mind.”

Chapter Text

Severus Snape rolled his eyes and grimaced at the large, obnoxiously smug poster of Gilderoy Lockhart advertising that the man would be at Flourish and Blott’s in person to sign autographs in a couple weeks’ time.

Thank Merlin he had not had the misfortune of timing this trip to the bookstore to correlate with that inevitable disaster.

Small Mercies.

The booklist for Hogwarts students had not yet gone out either, so the bookshop was relatively empty and blessedly childfree.

Severus perused the shelves at his leisure, carefully selecting volumes that Harry would enjoy and that would make the correct point if Harry was clever and motivated enough to figure it out.

He felt as manipulative as Albus, constructing this test for the boy, but with that damned unbreakable vow shackling his speech, his options were limited.

He had been open and honest with Harry in every other way, so he was sure Harry wouldn’t mind one instance of runaround.

Well, in almost every other way.

He had been deliberately vague about the circumstances that had driven him and Lily apart, and while he’d admitted feeling guilt over her death, he had not come close to admitting his mistake about the prophesy and painting the target on her back that became her death sentence.

He certainly hadn’t told Harry that he’d begged The Dark Lord to kill him and his father, if only his mother could be spared.

Merlin, he’d been more lost in those dark days than he’d realized at the time.

That had been such a desperate, foolish, evil bargain to attempt.

He’d almost had Harry’s blood on his hands for all eternity.

He was in an utterly sour mood by the time he approached the register to pay for his presents and leave.

He thunked his books down in the counter with a careless force that would have earned him a death glare from Madam Pince.

As it was, the store clerk behind the till just stared.  “P-professor Snape!”

Severus rolled his eyes, fully accustomed to the fear and groveling he elicited from his former students.

Something was off, though.

It wasn’t fear shining in this stranger’s eyes, but awe.

Respect.

It was disturbing.

“I’m in a hurry,” Severus snapped, expecting the stranger to flinch and jump into action.

Instead, the man extended his hand.  “I won’t take up much of your time, Sir, but it is an honor to meet you!  It isn’t right, what they allowed to go on at that school last year, but you were on top of things right from the start, weren’t you?!  If the Ministry wasn’t so prejudiced and blind, they’d have listened to you sooner and saved everyone a ton of trouble.  And the Boy-Who-Lived!  He would have died if it wasn’t for you!”

Severus rolled his eyes impatiently.  “I was there.”

“Yes, yes of course.  Still, it’s an honor.”

“I assure you; it is not.”

The man chuckled as he rang Severus’ purchases through.  “That’s for me to judge, I’d say.  It’s not every day I rub elbows with a certified hero.  And to think, you and Gilderoy Lockhart will be sharing a roof over your heads and working together to better the youth of tomorrow in just a few short weeks!”

“Please don’t remind me,” Severus drawled sourly.

The man finished ringing him up and Severus was in such a rush to leave the awkward interaction that he didn’t realize that he’d been severely undercharged until he was well down the street.

Well, he certainly wasn’t going back.

That much human interaction was already enough to make him itch.

He had grown used to being feared, disdained, and left alone.  He was comfortable with that isolated existence.

This, whatever this was, was horrifically claustrophobic and decidedly inconvenient.

He needed to convince people that he was not some soft-hearted fool of a hero, and soon, before he was driven insane with the fanfare.

A young mother smiled at him as she passed.

The sooner the better.

Chapter Text

Draco was horribly nervous.  It was a week before Harry’s birthday and his surprise party was today.

Mother had initially wanted to have the party early in August, but Draco had insisted on doing it early.  Harry had had his birthday ignored by his pathetic muggle relatives too many times for it to be funny to pretend that they weren’t going to do anything special for him.

Draco didn’t want Harry to experience a single moment of doubt that Draco cared about his special day.

Not a single one.

Everything was shaping up to be perfect.

Draco circled the Manor, looking for anything that was out of place or insufficiently festive.

Luminescent green and silver balloons and streamers covered nearly every inch of the walls and floated through the air.  Every end table and flat surface was crammed with treacle tarts and pumpkin juice.

Dobby had even made a miniature quidditch obstacle course for a herd of fairies to chase each other through.

It was perfect.

By the time the guests started to arrive, Draco was jittering with excitement.

He needed to calm down.  It was nearly time to go pick Harry up for their day together and Draco was going to blow the surprise if he was acting like a maniac.

Mother seemed to find his difficulties restraining himself highly amusing.  “Did Dobby feed you a whole pan of brownies again Darling?  You’re twitching like you’re one chocolate frog away from a sugar coma.”

“I just want Harry to have the best birthday ever,” Draco whined.  “You know his muggles never did anything special for him and last year he found out he was a wizard for the first time.  It’s like we have to make up for ten years and outdo being gifted magic all at once.”

“I’m sure Harry will be happy with whatever happens, Dear.  He knows that it’s the thought that counts.”

Draco made a face.  “That’s just something old ladies say when they’re too boring to want anything cool.”

His mother quirked an eyebrow and Draco paled.  “I didn’t mean you, Mother.  I just meant that Harry’s a kid and kids like toys and games and exciting things.  The thoughts may count for something, but they don’t make a day actually memorable.  I want Harry to brag to his grandkids about how brilliant this twelfth birthday party was.”

“Life rarely goes exactly to plan Darling, and it is absolutely never perfect.  We do our best and learn to make do.  Harry’s going to have a marvelous day… unless his best friend has a nervous breakdown and gives himself a heart attack before the party even starts.”

Draco rolled his eyes but did take the time to take some slow, deep breathes and to stretch out his jittery limbs.  “Are we ready to go get him?”

His mother nodded.  “We can apparate to where the limo’s waiting for us whenever you want.  Your father is keeping the early guests entertained.”

“Is Luna here yet?” Draco asked.  He liked Luna and wanted to introduce her to Harry before they got to Hogwarts and the rumors about her reached him first.

Not that he thought Harry would believe them without evidence, but he wanted to make sure they both had a good first impression of the other.

“Not yet, Darling.  You know how… quirky her father is.  There’s no telling when they’ll show up.”

“Just, let me know when they get here if they arrive after us, please Mother?  I don’t want Pansy or Blaise to be too mean to her.”

His mother reached forward to brush an errant strand of hair out of Draco’s face.  Or maybe she just wanted an excuse to touch him.  “I’ll keep an eye out for her.  You know, you’re maturing into a very kind and conscientious young man.  I’m very proud of you.”

“Gross, Mum.  You make being a good friend sound all lame,” Draco said, pulling away from her touch.

His mother chuckled.  “I’m just saying, a year ago you would have happily joked about ‘Looney Lovegood’ with your friends no matter what you thought of Luna privately.  A year ago, I never would have believed that you’d befriend someone like Neville Longbottom, let alone convince his shrew of a grandmother to allow him to attend a function at our home.  I never would have dreamed that you’d ally yourself with the Weasleys of all people.  I think being friends with Harry has been good for both of you.”

Draco shifted uncomfortably the way he always did when his mum got all mushy.  “Whatever.  Let’s go get Harry!”

“There’s my little monster.  Alright, let’s go.”

Draco could barely contain his glee as his skipped to the apparation point.

Chapter Text

Harry flicked a pebble at Piers’ cup from where they were hanging out under the slide at the local playground.

“Five points,” Piers muttered, picking out his own pebble to use as artillery against Harry’s paper cup.

Dudley was in one of his moods again and Piers had had his skateboard locked up as punishment for swearing at his little sister in front of his grandmother, so they were both incredibly bored.

Bored, sweating badly, and irritable.

Still, it was nice to be bored together.

Draco was coming over soon and Harry was hoping to convince him and his mother to have a muggle outing with him so that Piers could tag along.

It didn’t seem right to abandon Piers for his ‘rich friend’ when he couldn’t explain that they were going somewhere magical where Piers couldn’t follow.

The idea of it reminded Harry of how Piers used to hang out with Harry whenever Dudley was sick or away but then abandon him whenever his favored option became available again.

That had always sucked big time, and Harry was not looking for payback.  He wanted to be a good friend, not a petty one.

“Ten points,” Harry conceded at Piers’ pebble strike.  Merlin, it was so hot this summer!  Harry was trying hard not to sulk at Dudley hogging the conditioned living room at Privet Drive to himself like the spoiled arse he was.

It wasn’t like Harry could invite Piers into his room without violating the Statute of Secrecy.

A limo drove slowly past the playground on its route to the Dursley residence.  “Draco’s here!” Harry beamed, tugging at Piers’ sleeve.  “Let’s ask if you can hang out with us today!”

The two of them ran back to Privet Drive, cutting through the park to save time.

They arrived just as the limo was pulling up.

Harry waved excitedly.  “Hey Draco!  I was thinking, could we do something in London today so Piers can come with us?  He lost skateboard privileges for like a week over something totally stupid and Duds is being an arse again.

Draco paled at his request, looking flustered and upset.

That took Harry aback.

He knew that Piers’ teasing sometimes rubbed Draco the wrong way, but he hadn’t expected this.

Suddenly, he felt very stuck in the middle and a bit defensive of his muggle friend.

“I… we already have something planned today.  Something private,” Draco said with a meaningful look.  Harry just scowled at him for being so rude.  “Polkiss can’t come.”

Harry was blindsided.  Sure, Draco and Piers butted heads sometimes, but they always came around.  Harry was sure that Draco knew that Piers was a friend and anyways Pansy was ten times ruder and meaner than Piers ever was.

“Draco, what the hell?” Harry snapped.  “You’re acting like Dudley.  I’m sure whatever you wanted to show me can wait until next time.  I can’t just ditch Piers and leave him all alone in this heat!”

Draco was turning red.  “It’s not like that!  And it can’t wait!  It has to be today!  Mum!”

“What is it Draco?” Mrs. Malfoy asked, a little exasperated as she circled around from the other side of the limousine.

“Tell Harry that Polkiss can’t hang out with us today,” Draco demanded like a spoiled brat.

Like Dudley.

Harry was shaking with rage.

Draco was better than this, wasn’t he?

“It’s okay, Harry,” Piers said awkwardly.   Harry could tell that he was hurt and that made everything worse.  “I didn’t mean to intrude or nothin’.  We can hang out later.”

“No!” Harry bit out impatiently. “Draco’s just being stupid.  You can come or I can stay.”

“Mum!” Draco whined with tears in his eyes.  He seemed to be on the verge of panicking.

Harry could not believe that Draco was trying to make himself out to be the victim here.  Old insecurities about Dudley’s ability to turn everyone against him had Harry choking up.

“What Draco is trying to say,” Mrs. Malfoy interjected soothingly, “is that we bought tickets to a sold-out event for Harry as an early birthday surprise weeks ago, and cannot purchase an extra ticket now.  I’m terribly sorry Piers; if I had known you’d wish to join us, I would have gladly gotten one for you as well.  Perhaps you’d be willing to join us for an outing next week?  I was thinking a beach trip might be lovely.”

“That sounds great, Mrs. Malfoy.  I didn’t mean to be rude or invite myself to something special.”

“Not at all, Dear.  It was a simple miscommunication.  Will you be alright if we leave with Harry for today?”

“Yes, ma’am.  I’ll be fine,” Piers tripped over his words to assure her.  Harry had never heard Piers try to be so formal or polite.

Mrs. Malfoy had that affect on people.

Harry was still grumpy as he waved Piers goodbye and climbed into the limo.

He didn’t want to be ungrateful about the money the Malfoys had spent on his ticket to whatever they were seeing, but he knew how rich they were.

Surely, they could have switched plans and rebought tickets for a different day.  Or found someone selling marked up tickets at the door.

Where were they taking him anyways?

Ignoring Draco’s attempts at small talk, Harry frowned when they pulled into the parking lot the driver always dropped them off at before they apparated to Malfoy Manor.

Where was this secret event if they had to apparate there?

He stopped cold when they landed just outside Malfoy Manor’s front doors.

What in the actual hell?

Had Draco and Mrs. Malfoy seriously just tricked Harry into ditching Piers just so they could hang out here?

He was seething.

Draco wouldn’t look him in the eye.  “Just… come inside for a second Harry.  Alright?  I just need to grab something for… for the thing we’re going to.”

A chill seeped down Harry’s spine.  He didn’t believe him.  Draco was lying to him.

He had never, ever felt so betrayed.

His eyes burned and his throat felt like it was swelling shut against the pain of being stabbed un the back.  Swallowing hurt.

“What’s going on?” Harry asked hoarsely, planting his feet firmly and refusing to move.

Draco was looking panicked again.  He looked to his mother and Harry snapped.

“Stop it!  Stop trying to get your mum to cover for you!  What is wrong with you today?  You know that Piers is my friend.  He’s your friend too, you jackass, and yet you made me ditch him under false pretenses to what?  Hang out?  We could have done that anywhere!  We could have done that at the Dursleys’ or in muggle London.  Since when have you turned into this rude, entitled, spoiled brat?  I don’t like it.  I don’ like you, the way you’re acting!”

Draco looked devastated.  He was beet red and his eyes were shimmering with unshed tears.  He opened his mouth to speak but nothing came out.  After a few seconds, he took off running around the side of the manor towards the quidditch pitch.

Harry sighed.  He supposed he should go apologize for being so harsh, but he really didn’t feel like.  Draco was being mean and treating both Harry and Piers like toys he could pick up and put down and hoard to himself however he liked.

Harry hated being treated that way.  He hated being put into the middle of arguments and forced to pick a side.

He hated bullies.

Mrs. Malfoy was standing next to Harry awkwardly.  She seemed to be at a loss for words, too.

“I need some water,” Harry grumbled and stalked off toward the Manor.

“Harry…” Mrs. Malfoy said hesitantly.

Harry ignored her.  If she was covering for Draco’s behavior and making excuses for him, than she was more like Aunt Petunia than he’d thought.

He wrenched the doors open, not even waiting for Dobby to do it for him like the little elf loved to do and was greeted by a wall of people.

“SURPRISE!” a cacophony of voices shouted in sloppy unison.

“Happy Birthday, Harry!” Mr. Malfoy greeted Harry with a warm grin and a chuckle.  “Where’d Draco run off to?”

Oh.

Harry felt like he’d been hit in the stomach.  He was a terrible person.

Chapter Text

Draco still couldn’t wrap his mind around how things had gone so wrong.

Idly petting the most docile little peahen chick he’d ever seen come out of his father’s flock, Draco thought over every detail of what had happened over and over again in excruciating detail.

Draco had panicked.

He had panicked and he’d been unable to think on his feet in order to come up with a clever solution.

He’d frozen.

It was like his fear of skateboarding all over again.  His fear of falling off his broom.

His paralyzing terror watching Harry fall from the quidditch stands.

He wiped the tears from his eyes in angry frustration as the peahen in his arms squawked and nipped at him with ruffled feathers.

“Sorry Girl,” Draco muttered, soothing the mercurial creature.  “I’m mad at me, not you.”

“Draco?” his mother called out from the barn’s entrance.

“In here,” Draco admitted with a sigh, tamping down his childish urge to yell at her to leave him alone.

His feathers were feeling awfully ruffled, too.

“There you are, Sweetheart.  You missed the surprise.  Harry’s gone inside already.”

Draco shrugged petulantly, trying hard not to care.  “It was a stupid idea, anyways.”

“It was a kind and thoughtful idea, Darling.  We just forgot how stubborn Harry can be when he’s protecting someone he cares about.  You’ve never been on the wrong side of that equation before, have you?”

Draco shook his head glumly.  “He hates me now.”

“He doesn’t,” Mother said firmly.  “Now that he knows what happened, I’ll bet he feels just as silly about the misunderstanding as you do.  You’ll see.  Do you think maybe you should find him and apologize so you can get back to making this a fun birthday for him rather than hiding out alone?”

Draco sighed.  “Maybe.  I don’t really want to talk to anyone else right now, though.”

“I know, Sweetheart, but I’ll bet that Harry will be upset until he talks to you, and he’s stuck in our house with a bunch of people without backup.”

“Yeah, yeah okay,” Draco said, gently setting the peahen chick down.  “Thanks, Mum.”

“You are very welcome, Draco.  I’m so proud of the young man you’re growing into.  Now, let’s make go make sure your father’s guests aren’t trying to eat Harry alive, shall we?”

Draco laughed and followed his mother back to the house.

She cast a quick succession of charms to clean him up and then he was inside, swept up in the chaos and frenetic energy of a Malfoy-Hosted Soiree.

Draco’s stomach dropped immediately.  What if Harry yelled at him again?  There were so many people watching.  Draco didn’t want to lose his best friend in front of all these people.

His hands were actually shaking.

Merlin, he was such a coward.

Taking a deep breath, Draco forced himself to take a step forward.  He was going to lose his best friend if he was too afraid to make things right.  The longer it took, the harder it would be.

Harry was across the room, nursing a glass of pumpkin juice and sticking close to Father.  He looked so small, hunched over and surrounded by a sea of adults.

He also looked so sad.

Squaring his shoulders, Draco crossed the room, weaving through conversations and ignoring his other friends’ attempts to say hello.  He could be a polite host later.

Harry was more important.

Clearing his throat as he approached, Draco looked at Harry’s pouting face and nearly fled.  Harry hated him, he just knew it.

“Harry,” Draco said tremulously.  “I’m so sorry.  I didn’t mean to lie, and I didn’t mean to be mean to Piers.  I wanted to give you a nice surprise for your birthday, and everything was already planned.  I couldn’t invite Piers without violating the Statute of Secrecy, and I couldn’t postpone the party because everybody was already here, and I didn’t know what to do, and… and I panicked.  I handled it like a right prat.  I’m sorry.”

Harry sighed, heavily.  “It’s my fault.  I know you better than to think you’d do those horrible things.  I should have trusted you.”

Draco stuck out his hand.  “Truce?”

Ignoring his hand entirely, Harry pulled Draco into a hug.  “If by truce you mean I forgive you and I’d like you to forgive me, then yeah.  Truce.”

“Happy Birthday, Harry,” Draco whispered.

“Ah, there you are, Draco,” Father said smoothly, as if he hadn’t just made a berk of himself apologizing in front of the entire room.  “Would you like some punch before you take Harry to hang out with your friends?”

Merlin, Draco loved his dad.

“I’m fine, Father.  Thank you.  I will be rescuing Harry from all you boring adults, now, please.”

Father chuckled.  “Go have fun, Son.  Happy Birthday, Harry.”

Draco led Harry to the room they had set up for kid’s games while they waited for everyone to arrive and do cake.  “Do you really forgive me, Harry?” Draco asked.  He knew how well Harry was at playing to a crowd.

“Of course, I do, you idiot,” Harry huffed.  “I was the one that yelled and stuff.  I know that you’re nothing like Dudley.”

Draco shrugged, awkwardly.  “I think maybe I used to be.  A little.  I’m still sorry for making you worry.”

Harry nodded.  “What about Piers?  I know you can’t tell him the whole truth, but will you make things right with him, too?”

Draco bit his lip.  “I… I’ll try.  I don’t think he likes me as much as you think he does.”

“Because he calls you Rich Boy?”

“I dunno.”

“I think he likes you just fine,” Harry said easily.  “You proved yourself by not giving up on skateboarding, even when it was scary and hard.  The real spoiled brats give up easily and whine about it, you know?”

Draco was quiet as he thought that over.  He hadn’t given up easily, had he?  He had forced himself to keep practicing, over and over, even when kept falling and getting scraped up.

Huh.

Slowly, a proud smirk spread across Draco’s face.  “I didn’t give up, did I?”

Harry grinned back.  “Nope!  You’re practically a Gryffindor.”

“You take that back!” Draco squawked, lunging at Harry to trap him in a headlock.

Harry dodged him and took off running down the hall.

Gathering all his Slytherin fury, Draco chased after him.  “Get back here, Potter!  You take that back!”

Harry’s laughter echoed through the manor as they ran.

Chapter Text

The mood was already decidedly odd when Severus stepped out of the fireplace and into Malfoy Manor’s entrance hall.  Everyone was clustered together and gossiping in the way that only happened when something scandalous had just happened right before their eyes and they just had to form the wettest, most scathing, or insightful take of the matter to secure their own place in everyone’s memory of the event.

And then people noticed Severus’ arrival and their faces morphed, half looking like Severus was a prize whose attention must be won and the other half looking with bland disgust that he was sullying their dignified affair with his presence.

Merlin, this was going to be a long day. 

“Severus,” Lucius called out smoothly, “Welcome, my friend!  You missed surprising Harry.”

“I’m sure he was devastated by my absence,” Severus drawled, still gauging the reactions of everyone around him and trying to piece together what had happened before his arrival.

Something had definitely happened; something that Lucius Malfoy wanted to minimize both to Severus and to the rest of his guests.

Involving his son, perhaps?

Or involving Harry.

Severus narrowed his eyes as he took in the identities of the vultures flocking around him.

There were plenty of Ministry officials.  Plenty of Wizengamot members.  Plenty of businessmen and investors.  Plenty of old money lords and heirs.  Too many non-convicted Death Eaters for comfort.

Arthur Weasley was there, clutching at his drink as if his life depended on it.  Severus would not imagine how he had managed to secure himself and invitation or why for Merlin’s sake the uptight paragon of goodness and the working class had decided to accept it.

Then Severus spotted Percy Weasley following Ludo Bagman around the party like the world’s most self-important duckling and suddenly Arthur’s presence made much more sense.

Now that Severus thought of it, having Arthur Weasley a welcome guest in his home was a good PR move on Lucius’ part.  Either Arthur, and by extension the Ministry’s latest dark artifact raiding brigade looked compromised by his new-found truce or they looked paranoid and vindictive if they targeted Lucius again soon.

Sneaky bastard.

“Hello, Severus,” Arthur said in an overly familiar tone, setting Severus’ teeth on edge.  “I wasn’t expecting to see you here.”

“Likewise,” Severus gritted out.

Arthur shifted his weight and glanced over at Bagman.  “I’m here for my son.”

Severus nodded curtly.  “I’m here for Harry.”

“Right,” Arthur said, fiddling with his drink.  “I’ve heard that you’ve been protecting him.”

“Yes,” Severus said shortly.  “I have.”

“He’s been doing a better job of it than anyone else at that bloody school,” a sharp female voice said from behind Severus.  “I’ve half a mind to pull my niece and send her to Beauxbatons, instead.”

“That dragon was hardly Albus’ fault, Amelia,” Arthur said stiffly, puffing out his chest.

“This is about more than the dragon, Arthur, and even then, he should have known better.  Rubeus Hagrid already had a criminal record for harboring dangerous, illegal animals on those very school grounds.  He never should have been given that job in the first place, let alone so much unsupervised leeway in the forest.”

“It was a mistake,” Arthur admitted hesitantly, as if allowing Albus any weakness hurt his very sense of morality itself.

“Let’s hope the new groundskeeper proves to be more palatable,” Severus deadpanned, wishing that his tongue wasn’t shackled against spilling the truth about Lupin’s unregistered wolfy ways.

“Keep an eye on him, Severus,” Amelia said, resting her hand on Severus’ forearm.  “I was hesitant to trust you last year, but you’ve proven yourself in my books.  If you spot anything amiss in that school, you let me know.  I trust your judgement.”

“I’m no hero,” Severus insisted, bristling against the trust and praise.  He didn’t deserve it.

“That might be the first true thing I’ve every heard you say, Snape,” Rufus Scrimgeour growled.  “The Minister was looking for you, Amelia.”

“I’ll find him in a moment,” Amelia said dismissively.  “Severus and I are discussing plans to ensure the safety of my niece and the other Hogwarts students this year.”

Scrimgeour snorted derisively.

“I’m so glad to see you here, Rufus,” Lucius cut in smoothly.  “I was terribly worried that my invitation had been tragically lost when I never received a confirmation.  I had begun to think that I had not sent you an invite at all.”

Scrimgeour scowled.  “I’m here with the Minister.  For his protection.”

“Ah yes, hard-earned tax galleons at work; you’re doing an admirable job.  Where is Cornelius?  He had asked me for a private chat, but I don’t see him at the moment.  Do you?”

Amelia rolled her eyes.  “Lovely to see you, too, Lucius.  This party for Harry is a very thoughtful gesture.  He certainly deserves to be the center of attention for something other than a political drama or personal tragedy.  I don’t see him at the moment, either.  I’ll have to track him down to deliver his gift…”

Merlin, Severus hated the tedium of political backbiting.  He was certain the twelve-year-olds, wherever they were hiding, were acting more maturely.

“Where is Harry?” Arthur asked nervously.

“I stashed him with all the hidden dark artifacts,” Lucius drawled.  “Why don’t you ransack my home again to see if you can find him?”

Arthur and Scrimgeour bristled.

“Lucius!” came a bright, cheerful voice.  “What a lovely party.  And what’s going on in this private little conclave?”

“Ah, Rita,” Lucius practically purred at his pet little reporter.  “We were just discussing the Ministry’s position on Harry’s protection, or lack thereof, at Hogwarts over the past year.  Amelia and I are of the opinion that Severus here is a hero for going above and beyond the duty of his post to ensure his students’ safety, while Arthur and Rufus remain unconvinced.”

Rita Skeeter practically vibrated with bloodthirsty glee.  “I have heard rumors that you’ve been quite the dashing hero, Severus Snape.  I don’t suppose our illustrious Head Auror has evidence that would shatter that image of you, do you Rufus?  The people have the right to know.”

“I’m not giving interviews today, Skeeter,” Scrimgeour growled.

“That would be a ‘no’, then,” Ludo Bagman, of all bloody people, said as he joined in the conversation with a chuckle.

“I’m going to go find something to eat,” Severus said, turning to leave.

Rita Skeeter clamped herself around his arm.  “No, stay.  One of Lucius’ elves can bring you a snack if you’re truly that ravenous.  I want to hear what the Hero of Hogwarts has to say about these seemingly baseless accusations against him.”

“I’m no hero,” Severus bit out.

“Yes, you are,” Percy Weasley said.  “Sir.”

“Son,” Arthur warned.  “Stay out of this.”

Percy glared at his father.  “Professor Snape is the most respectable teacher that Hogwarts has.  He actually upholds the rules, no matter how unpopular that makes him.  He kept Harry alive, just like Draco Malfoy and Harry Potter kept Fred alive, but you don’t want to let go of old grudges.  It’s childish.”

“Do tell,” Skeeter said, keeping a firm grip on Severus’ arm.  “I could have sworn I read a report recently about Arthur Weasley leading a fruitless raid against this very home while Harry Potter was visiting the family, but now you’re saying that Lucius’ son and heir kept one on Arthur’s children alive during the dragon attack?”

Percy narrowed his eyes at the woman.  “I didn’t mention the dragon attack.  But yes.  Draco Malfoy and Harry Potter have been busy building political bridges which will be vital if we’re ever going to heal from the war, but it seems the older generation is still intent on burning them all back down.”

Bagman chuckled jovially.  “The boy’s got you there, Arthur.  You sniff after Lucius like a crup after an injured kneazle, but it was Lucius’ son that brought Percy here to my attention.  He’s been the most organized intern I’ve had in years.  I have plans to promote him into my office properly once he graduates, and it is all thanks to the Malfoy family.”

“I would never lay the sins of the father at the feet of the son,” Arthur insisted, looking flustered.

“Wouldn’t you?” Lucius asked mildly, surreptitiously rubbing at his left forearm.

Arthur glared at the man.

Severus made a failed attempt to extricate himself from Skeeter’s vice-like grip.

“Tell me, Severus,” Skeeter said, “what’s it like being the Savior of the hour?”

“I’m no such thing.”

“Now, now, you can only play the humility card so many times.  You spotted Quirrell as a bad egg months before anyone else cottoned on.  There’s no denying it.”

“I don’t want to be the center of attention,” Severus said flatly.  “I can do my job more effectively if I’m left alone.”

“So, you are a hero, you just don’t want credit for it.  That’s terribly noble, but I’m afraid my readers won’t forget you that easily, Severus.  Not when it was their children that you kept safe.”

Severus wrenched his arm free.  “I’m merely balancing the scales from my past mistakes.  That makes me a coward, not a hero.”

“I’ve read your file, Severus,” Skeeter crooned.  “Even before Dumbledore stood up in your defence, the Ministry couldn’t pin a single murder on you.  You may have been led astray in your youth, but you never killed anyone.”

“Tell that to the Potters,” Severus muttered under his breath as he stalked away, bumping into a short object that he had overlooked.

Harry looked up at him with curious, suspicious green eyes.

Lily’s eyes.

“What do you mean by that?” the boy whispered hoarsely.

Chapter Text

Harry couldn’t do this.  Not again.  Not so soon after everything with Draco.

Surely, surely, Harry had misunderstood.

Right?

“Uncle Sev?” Harry asked tremulously.  “Please.  Please tell me what you mean.”

The look on Professor Snape’s face said for more than Harry ever wanted to know.

Tears stung at his eyes, but he stubbornly blinked them back.

Professor Snape didn’t say a word.

He shoved a plainly wrapped present into Harry’s chest and fled.

Harry watched him go, feeling like he’d just been split in half.

He looked down numbly at the present in his arms, unsure what to do with it.

Unsure of anything.

Harry hoped that Draco wouldn’t be mad as he fled to the rooms that had been his over Christmas.  He just wasn’t in a partying mood.

He knew that Professor Snape had made mistakes during the war.  He knew that the man felt guilty and remorse over some of the things he’d done.

But he’d never killed anyone, right?

Not his parents.

Not his mum.

Uncle Sev and his mother had been best friends, after all.  Harry had Professor Snape’s old textbook to prove it.  They’d been friends.

Friends fought, sure, but they didn’t betray each other.  Not like that.

Harry must have misunderstood.

That was the only explanation that made any sense.

He clutched at Snape’s present, unwilling to open it, but not wanting to let it go, either.  He clung to it like a lifeline.

He’d misunderstood.

He’d misunderstood.

A knock came from Harry’s shut door.  He was just about to ask Draco to leave him alone, when he heard Professor Snape’s deep, soothing voice.  “Harry?  Is it okay if I came in?  I am sorry that I fled from you.  I would like the opportunity to explain things to you if you would allow it.”

“Yeah,” Harry called out softly, gripping his present tighter.  “You can come in.”

The door creaked open, and Uncle Sev stepped inside all tall and somber and face cracking with brittle remorse.  “May I sit?”

Harry nodded and scooted over along the edge of the massive bed.

“Thank you,” Professor Snape said, inclining his head as he sat gingerly a noticeable distance away from Harry’s side.  His breath smelled like Uncle Vernon's did after he'd been drinking, but he didn't have that dangerous look in his eyes, so Harry figured it was alright.

“What… what did you want to talk about?” Harry asked hesitantly, staring down at his own knees.

Professor Snape cleared his throat and shifted his weight.  “I told you before that I had regrets from the war.”

Harry flinched, nodding miserably.  He refused to look up.  How bad was this going to be?

“I overheard a prophesy that was not meant for my ears, or part of it at least.  I was a fool.  I knew that what I’d heard would motivate the Dark Lord to inflict pain on someone if I shared it with him, but I had assumed that it would be some distant, far-off pain that I would never have to witness directly.  I did not think that it would affect someone I cared so deeply about.

“The prophesy spoke of an as-of-then unborn child, one who would be 'born as the seventh month of that next year died'.  The end of July, Harry.”

Harry gasped.  “The prophesy was about me?”

“Yes and no.  The prophesy did not name names, and you were not the only magical baby born within the correct timeframe.”

“Neville,” Harry said, filling in the pieces in his mind.

“Indeed.  The prophesy foretold that this child in question would be the Dark Lord’s equal, and that he would have the power to defeat him.  I should not have told him, Harry.  I regret it with every fiber of my soul.  But I was angry.”

“Is the prophesy why Neville’s parents got hurt?”

“Yes.  And no.  Bellatrix Lestrange was the ringleader of that encounter, from what I’ve heard, and she was already patently insane.  The Dark Lord had just been defeated by the Prophesy Child, by you, but you were safely out of her reach.  The Longbottoms were the next best outlet for her deranged revenge.”

“So,” Harry said slowly, working things out in his head as he went, “it’s your fault that the Dark Lord killed my parents, because you told him about the prophesy, but it’s also my fault too, because the prophesy was about me, or something about me made him pick me first.  And everything that happened to Neville, too.”

“It is not your fault, Harry,” Professor Snape said firmly.  “I don’t know what the prophesy meant, when it said that you’d have the power to defeat the Dark Lord, and if I know anything about such things, it is that blind speculation on such matters is not only foolhardy but dangerous.  But you did not make any of this happen.”

“But…”

“If you learned that young Draco had the ability to become better than you at quidditch, would that make it okay for you to hurt him to stop that from happening?”

“No!”

“And if you did it anyways despite knowing that it was wrong, would any of the blame be Draco’s, for tempting you to hurt him?”

“Well, no.  Of course not.”

“Exactly.  Your abilities, your strengths, and your potential will only ever reflect badly on you of you squander them or choose to use them for evil’s sake.  It is good to be aware of the advantages you have, but you should do what you can to use them for the greater good,  but you should never let anyone bully you onto feeling guilty about being special., not even yourself.  Anyone who does so is no true friend.”

“But what about you?  You did choose to do the wrong thing.  You… you betrayed my mum.”

“I did,” Professor Snape said solemnly.  “I did not know that it was her life that I was putting at risk, but I knew that it was someone’s.  I have no defense.”

“What about after?” Harry asked desperately. “Didn’t you do anything to try to make it right?”

Professor Snape shuddered and frowned.  “To my shame, I did.”

Harry glared at him.  “What do you mean, ‘to your shame’?  Trying to fix it is a good thing, right?”

Professor Snape shook his head sadly.  “I was still too full of anger, and too afraid.  I knew that the Dark Lord would not let the child live, not let you live, no matter what.  I believed that I could not save you, so I didn’t even try.  I begged the Dark Lord to spare Lily’s life, but I did not beg for you or for James.  I was such a stupid, bitter coward.”

“You didn’t do anything to help us?”

“Well… I did warn Dumbledore that the Dark Lord was after you.  That was why your parents knew to go into hiding.  I knew I was only buying them time though, I wasn’t saving them.  Or you.”

“But you were a spy, right?  You helped to save other lives by sharing the Dark Lord’s secrets.”

“I… yes.  None of that ended up doing your parents any good, though.  You were still orphaned.”

Harry glared imperiously at Uncle Sev.  “And if you hadn’t, who knows how many other orphans you’d be teaching at Hogwarts this year.  You did a bad thing.  But you feel sorry about it, and you did what you could to make it right.  You saw the problem and you made sure you wouldn’t make the same mistake again, even though it was dangerous to be so brave.”

“You… are you forgiving me?”

Harry cocked his head.  “Would you like to be forgiven?”

Uncle Sev gave a startled laugh.  “I’m being shown up by a twelve-year-old.  How did you get to be so mature?”

Harry shrugged.  “I’m technically still eleven.  My real birthday isn’t until next week.”

Uncle Sev reached out and ruffled Harry’s hair.  “If and when you’re ready, I would very much like your forgiveness,  Harry Potter.”

Harry grinned and tackled Uncle Sev into a bear hug.  “I’m ready, now.  I forgive you.  But…”

“But what?”

“You said you didn’t hear the whole prophesy.  Who did?”

“Ah.  That would be our illustrious headmaster.”

“Brilliant.  I can ask him to tell me the whole thing when school starts back up.”

Uncle Sev shifted on the bed.  “That… the headmaster likes to keep sensitive information close to his chest.”

Harry was affronted.  “He might not tell me?  He has to, doesn’t he?  It’s about me.  No one else knows?”

“Not as such.  From what I could tell, the Seer delivering the prophesy was in a sort of trance while doing so.  I doubt they’d remember.  I think the Ministry keeps a record of all prophesies locked away, but…”

“Okay.  I’ll ask the Ministry for the prophesy.”

“They might not listen to a child.”

Harry huffed.  “I’ll get Mr. Malfoy to help then.”

Uncle Sev nearly choked.  Harry rubbed his back soothingly as he regained his breath.  “That seems like an awful lot of inconvenience to a lot of people.  Let me speak with Albus, Headmaster Dumbledore, before you involve the Malfoys.  Perhaps I can convince him to share what he knows.”

Harry grinned.  “You’re the best.”

“I’m not.  I’m still a deeply flawed man, Harry.  Don’t let the papers or the hype surrounding last year convince you otherwise.”

Harry rolled his eyes.  “Knowing you is what convinced me otherwise, Uncle Sev.  Actions speak louder than words, yeah?  Well, you’re a man of action, and I’ve been paying attention to the things you’ve done since meeting me.”

Uncle Sev blinked, a complicated look washing over his face.  “You’re missing your own party, Harry.  You should get back out there.”

“I haven’t even been here an hour and I’m already exhausted,” Harry complained with a dramatic sigh.

Uncle Sev chuckled.  “You and me both.  You can open my present if you’d like.  I fear it may seem trite and insufficient, after the talk we just had, but I hope you find them interesting.”

Harry smiled and carefully pulled off the wrapping paper, exposing a tightly bundled stack of books.

They were and… odd assortment.

There was one on dark creatures, one devoted to the lesser-known properties of monkshood, one on the magic of the lunar cycle, and one giant one on lies of omission and the toxicity of the passive allowance of evil.

“Er, thanks Uncle Sev,” Harry said, grateful for the presents, but unsure what to make of them.

“I am afraid that they are quite dense,” Uncle Sev admitted.  “You may need to read between the lines to catch their full meaning.”

“Okay,” Harry said, already flipping through the lunar cycles book to look for any information on how the phase of the moon might affect Harry’s brewing.

Professor Snape ruffled Harry’s hair again as he stood.  “Don’t hide in here too long, or Lucius will have both our hides.”

“Uh huh,” Harry said distractedly, already lost in the sea of newfound knowledge.

“Happy early Birthday, Harry,” Uncle Sev said softly.  “I’ll get you a better present for your real birthday.”

Chapter Text

Draco wandered the manor, helping his mother clean up after the party.

It had been such a weird kind of disaster, from start to finish; Draco had never seen anything like it.

That fight with Harry had been awful, but even after they had reconciled, things kept going wrong.

Professor Snape had upset Harry.

Pansy had decided to pick on Luna despite Draco’s best efforts to get her to stop, and Harry hadn’t really gotten the chance to meet her, either.

Blaise had been a no-show and Theo’s father had gotten drunk and yelled at Theo in a way that made Draco very worried about his friend’s safety after he got home.

He had not been able to keep up with all of the adult conversations happening at once, but Draco had sensed enough tension in the room to know that invisible lines had been drawn all over the house as people aligned themselves with or against one cause or another.

On top of all of that, Draco still had no idea what to actually say to Piers Polkiss the next time he saw him.

He could not think of any excuse for not inviting Piers along that did not sound elitist or exclusionary.  He wished that he could just come out and say that Piers couldn’t come because there was going to be magic all over the party and Piers wasn’t allowed to see any of it by wizarding law, but saying that sentence itself to Piers would be against wizarding law.

His mum’s suggestion of them already having tickets to some sold out event was the best option he had, but it still sounded lame.

A part of Draco, niggling at the back of his head, was upset that he even cared what Piers thought.  He was just a muggle after all.

But Draco did care.  Piers was decent to Harry, and really good at skateboarding, and Draco wanted Piers to like him.

It didn’t matter whether he was a muggle or not.

It didn’t matter.

It had never mattered, even when Draco had thought it did.

Piers was just as much a person as the rest of them.

And if Piers the Muggle was worthy of Draco’s time, then what excuse did he have for pushing the muggleborns at school away?

Not that Draco had been actively mean to anyone or refused to be anyone’s friend who had asked, but he hadn’t reached out, either.

True, muggleborns were exceedingly rare in Slytherin, so it wasn’t like he was forcing anyone to be an outsider or anything.

But still.

Then again, it would be weird if Draco decided to try to befriend someone just because they were a muggleborn, wouldn’t it?

He should just wait and let his friendships develop naturally.

He could do that, right?  Or was the fact that he was thinking about this now tainting all his future interactions with muggleborns, one way or the other?

Merlin, being a good person was hard.

Somehow, Draco didn’t think he could ask his father for advice on this one, either.

Maybe mother.

No, probably not.

Draco remembered all the stories about Mother’s side of the family.

If his great aunt Walburga Black was still alive, she’d disown him in a second for even thinking about maybe becoming friends with a muggleborn.  If she knew he was already friends with a muggle, she might have disowned Draco’s mother too, for allowing it to happen.

Maybe he could ask Luna about it the next time he saw her.

She was a pureblood, but she didn’t seem like the type to push anyone who wanted to befriend her away for being different.

She would understand.

He hoped.

All in all, Harry’s twelfth birthday party had sucked big time.  All he could do was cross his fingers and hope that the rest of the summer would go more smoothly.

It had to, right?

“Draco, darling, come hold this for me while I undo the charms, will you?” his mother called from the next room.

Draco hurried to comply.  “Mother?” he asked, his arms full of struggling party decorations.  “Why are you letting me be friends with a muggle this summer?”

His mother paused, looking at him carefully.  “Because we cannot bring Harry fully into our world.  It is only fair that you meet him halfway.  Now hold on, those streamers have been escaping from me all morning, the stubborn little things.”

“If I stopped being friends with Harry.  If we got into a bad fight or he moved away or something, would I still be allowed to be friends with Piers?”

His mother sighed as a streamer escaped and twirled its way up the nearby banister.  “Can we talk about this later, Draco?  Those are some complicated, grown-up questions and I need to concentrate.  We both do.”

Draco frowned.  “But…”

“Not now, Draco.  Harry is still your friend, I promise.  You don’t need to worry about it.”

“That’s not what I’m worried about,” Draco grumbled under his breath, but tightened his hold on the feisty festive décor and didn’t say anything else.

He supposed it didn’t really matter why his parents had allowed him to explore the muggle world, only that they had, and that Draco was in a position to take full advantage of that freedom.

He was going to learn absolutely everything that he could, and he was going to find a way to keep touch with Piers even after school started back up, and he was going to become the best skateboarder ever and not just because it would help his flying.

Muggles were interesting and Draco was certain that even wizards could learn something from them, if they gave it a try.  His anatomy books alone were proof of that.

He just needed to prove it, and then his parents would have no choice but to treat muggles seriously.

Easy peasy.

Chapter Text

Harry scrambled around his room, collecting odds and ends that he didn’t want to leave behind.

Between the Malfoys and Professor Snape, Harry had more muggle and wizarding clothes than he knew what to do with, plus enough toys and games and hobbies to keep him busy until he was fifty.

And books.

Harry was very proud of his collection of books.  He was even prouder with how well he was getting to understand them.  He felt like an entire new world had been opened up to him in the last year, in addition to the physical world of magic and friendship and wizardry.  Harry had never had access to so much useful and interesting knowledge before in his life.

Harry squeezed the majority of his books into his school trunk, not wanting to risk anything happening to whatever he left behind.  He would rather keep everything close at hand and safe, no matter how heavy his trunk became.

He paused when he saw Professor Snape's first year potions textbook.  The book he’d scribbled all over, with Harry’s mum.  Harry’s mum, who he’d gotten killed by selling her out to the Dark Lord.

This was stupid.

He had forgiven Uncle Sev, and he’d meant it, but he still got caught off guard by the sting of betrayal and the ache of bruised trust at stupid, random moments.

He and Uncle Sev had been exchanging letters all summer.  They were friendly and informative and super helpful for Harry’s research projects, but they were missing something.

That easy, unspoken bond between them was horribly strained and bent out of shape, and trying to force it back in place was only making things worse.

It only highlighted how much their dynamic had shifted since Harry’s ill-fated birthday party.

It made Harry very sad, but he didn’t know how to fix it.  He supposed it was one of those things that just took time.

But time had a way of leaving Harry incredibly lonely.

Things had been a little awkward with Draco too, since the party, but not as bad as with Professor Snape.  Draco had tripped all over himself apologizing to Piers for excluding him the day of the party.  It made him look more guilty, honestly, but thankfully Piers had mostly found it funny.

Harry got the impression that Piers was used to being a third wheel whenever his step-dad kicked him out of the house and he made his rounds to friends’ houses hoping for a place to stay for a few hours.  He must be used to running afoul of family events or pre-formed plans.

In any case, Draco had gone a bit overboard trying to make things up to both Harry and Piers, and in typical ‘rich boy’ fashion, had showered then both with presents and invitations to all sorts of things all through August.

Harry knew that Draco meant well and that he was just nervous about clearing the air, but it made Harry feel like their friendship was bought and paid for, and he didn’t like that at all.

He also didn’t like how jealous he got every time Draco mentioned how excited he was for Harry to finally meet his new friend Luna on the train ride to school.

It felt silly, disliking a girl he’d never even met, but Harry couldn’t help it.

Luna sounded different than Draco’s other friends.  She sounded special.

Deep down, Harry was worried that he wouldn’t understand her, that she wouldn’t like him, and that Draco would have to choose between them.

Harry trusted Draco, but he couldn’t exactly demand and expect Draco to choose him over every other friend he’d ever have, could he?

What would happen if it turned out that they weren’t best friends forever, but only best friends for now?  What would happen when Draco moved on to bigger and better things and left Harry behind?

He would be devastated.

Shaking his head, Harry forced himself to think about something else.  There was no point worrying about things that he couldn’t control.

He had been working with Professor Snape all summer on ideas for treating dyslexia with magic.  He was sure that he had a potion idea that was close to being ready for testing, but he’d need Uncle Sev to go over his notes first and to supervise his brewing.

He really hoped that it would help Greg.  He hoped that Greg would not be mad at Harry for sticking his nose somewhere where it didn’t belong.  Even if he was mad though, Harry hoped that the potion helped him.

He hadn’t had too many long conversations with Greg yet, Greg was self-conscious about his intelligence and hesitant to talk, but Harry could tell that he was thoughtful and smarter than he realized.  He deserved a confidence boost.

Taking a deep breath, Harry looked around his room.

That was it.

He was packed and ready for Hogwarts.

The Malfoys would be here soon to take him to King’s Cross.  He was one train ride away from officially being a second year.

He hoped it was less eventful than first year.  He didn’t think he could handle another professor trying to get him killed.

And he was able to try out for Quidditch!  Harry couldn’t wait to go flying with the Slytherin team again, no matter how tryouts went.

“Harry!” Aunt Petunia called out in her sweet voice that she only used when the Malfoys were around.  “Your friend is here to take you to school, dear.”

Rolling his eyes, Harry grabbed his trunk and scanned his room one last time to make sure he hadn’t forgotten anything.  It looked so sparse and depressing with all of his things packed away, so alien and hollow.

But he couldn’t see anything he’d missed.

“I’m coming, Aunt Petunia!” Harry called out, equally false warmth tainting his voice.

It was such a silly game they played, when everyone knew the truth about how Harry and Dursleys really felt about each other, but they played it anyways.

“Hello Harry,” Mrs. Malfoy said with genuine kindness as Harry rounded the corner to the staircase and headed down.

Harry cracked a smile.  “Hello, Mrs. Malfoy.  Thanks for giving me a ride.”

“Of course, dear.  Let me grab your things.  Draco and Luna are waiting for you in the limousine.”

Harry’s heart dropped.

Oh.

Chapter Text

Draco fidgeted anxiously in the limo while he played host to Luna and waited for Harry to join them.

Luna, for her part, was currently preoccupied with the cracks in the sidewalk, studying them intently with her face pressed tightly against the limo’s glass.

“The windows roll down, you know,” Draco said when Luna strained to see more of the fractured concrete.

“Do they?” Luna asked dreamily.  “How peculiar.”

Draco smiled.  Of course, Luna would find that odd.

“What are you looking for, anyways?”

“The paths we tread always tell stories,” Luna said simply, as if that explained everything.

“Because we damage them when we walk on them?” Draco asked.

“Sometimes we damage them.  Sometimes they damage us.  We leave impressions on each other, because we’re all a part of the same story, you see?”

Draco smiled.  “Where do you imagine our path will take us today?”

“Hogwarts, for a start.”

“Of course.”

“Do you think Harry will like me?”

“Absolutely!” Draco said emphatically.  “Harry’s a good person; he’d never be mean to you.”

Luna turned to look at him and smiled sadly.  “That isn’t what I asked.”

“He’ll like you,” Draco insisted.  “You’ll see.”

“There’s a lot of sadness in this neighbourhood.”

“Yeah,” Draco agreed softly.  “I know.”

“Why do you suppose that is?”

Draco scoffed.  “Because people live here.”

Luna blinked slowly and looked at him.  “That is a rather common connection, isn’t it?  I wonder why that is.”

Draco just shrugged.  He nearly jumped out of his skin when Piers knocked on the streetside window by his head.  Merlin, Polkiss could be sneaky when he wanted to be!

Draco rolled down the window.  “Hi Piers!  You here to see Harry off to school?”

Piers flashed his goofiest smile.  “You too, Rich Boy.  Don’t stop shredding at fancy school, yeah?”

Draco grinned back.  “Got my board safely wrapped up in my trunk, ready to go!”

Piers glanced further into the limo and started.  “I didn’t know you had a sister!”

“Oh!  She’s not my sister.  She’s my distant cousin and a friend.  Luna, this is Piers.  Piers, Luna.”

“Hello Piers,” Luna said dreamily.  “I’ve never met a safe harbour before.”

Piers looked confused, as if he wasn’t sure whether or not he’d been insulted, and Draco was just about to explain that that was just the way Luna was, when Piers’ smile returned, and he made a shallow bow.  “I’ve never been fishing, either, which is a shame.  It’s nice to meet you too, Crescent Moon!”

“I do plan on shining brighter when I’m all grown up,” Luna confided to Piers, as if he was a life-long friend.

“I bet,” Piers agreed, without missing a beat.  “I plan on meeting lots of different people from interesting places.”

That made Luna giggle.  “Well, I’ll be sure to light their way.”

“And I’ll do my best not to light you on fire every time I have to sneeze,” Draco said.

“Hello Piers!” Draco’s mum called out pleasantly.  “I was hoping you and Draco would have the opportunities to make your goodbyes until next summer.  Thank you for making sure my son never broke his neck learning that new hobby of yours.”

Piers blushed and fidgeted.  “I’m sorry if I caused you any trouble, ma’am.”

“You are no trouble at all, young man.  None at all.  Draco?  Hop out for a moment and help Harry with his things, would you?”

“Yes, mum,” Draco said with a nod.  “Harry isn’t bringing his owl with us, is he?”

“Mercurius wanted to fly on ahead,” Harry said, holding up a bandaged finger.

Draco snorted.  “I can see that.”

“Wait, you have a pet owl?” Piers asked.  “Really?”

“Oh,” Harry said.  “Yeah.  I suppose that is kind of weird, isn’t it?”

“Weird but cool!” Piers said.  “I’m sad I didn’t get to meet him.”

“He, er… he bites,” Harry admitted sheepishly, “but you can meet him next summer, if you want?”

“Absolutely!  I’ll miss you, Harry.  Little Whinging is going to be so boring without you.”

“I’ll miss you too, Piers.  You were always my favorite of Dudley’s friends.”

Piers snorted.  “I hope that wasn’t a hard choice.  Enjoy your fancy-ass prison!”

Draco and Harry laughed, while Draco’s mother looks confused and mildly affronted.  “St. Brutus’ is no match for us!” Draco said.

“Ah yes,” Mother said.  “I keep forgetting that your prestigious boarding school has garnered such a reputation in certain circles.”

“I’m sure it’s just the jealousy talking, ma’am.  Not many people around here get to rub elbows with lords and politicians and the like.”

“I’ll write you if I can,” Draco promised, shaking Piers’ hand.  “And brag about all my new sick moves.”

“You’d better,” Piers said.  “You too, Harry!”

“He seems lovely,” Luna said as Piers took off on his skateboard, waving as he went.

“He’s a good guy,” Draco admitted.  “Harry!  Hop in already, and I’ll introduce you to Luna.”

“I’m coming, I’m coming,” Harry grumbled, sounding a little out of sorts.

“Hello Harry,” Luna said, scooting over to make more space for him.

“Hullo,” Harry replied shortly as he climbed into the limo and proceeded to stare blankly out the window.

“Did you get everything packed okay?” Draco asked, desperate to keep the conversation from dying an early and awkward death.

“Yeah.”

“Dudley didn’t give you a hard time, did he?”

“He was fine.”

“Is he?” Luna asked.  “He looks very lonely.  I think his wrackspurts must have driven everyone away.”

Harry looked at Luna incredulously.  “His what?”

“The whole house is infested with them,” Luna said, “but look, you can see him peeking out the window.  They are clinging to him like a dark cloud.”

Harry scoffed.  “That’s just his stupid pouting face because he doesn’t get to be the special one, for once.  He begged his mum all summer to send him to a fancy boarding school filled with rich kids, but she told him no.”

“She must be lonely, too, don’t you think?”

Harry rolled his eyes.  “If you say so.”

Luna blinked at him.  “I don’t have to say anything, if you don’t want me to.  Or you could just ignore me.  Most people do.  They say it’s because I’m so strange, but I think we’re all strange, in our own ways.  I don’t mind, though.  You can’t go on adventures if you don’t get yourself a little lost first, and I tend to get lost in my own thoughts, all the time.  I suppose that makes me the adventurous type!”

Harry looked at Draco as if insanity was catching.

Draco just shrugged.  “I used to pretend that I was Inflatable Pete on one of his adventures when I was left alone.  Do you pretend to be someone else in your thoughts, Luna?  Or do you always stay yourself?”

“Oh, I don’t think I know how to be anyone else,” Luna said.  “I’m always just me.”

Finally, Harry cracked a reluctant little smile.

Chapter Text

Harry felt guilty for his sulkiness the more he listened to Luna talk.

She was very odd, there was no doubt about that, but just because she saw the world differently didn’t mean that she saw it wrong.

It was like Luna’s brain had grown in a way to filter harsh truths to her in a way that was whimsical and beautiful.

Harry was actually kind of jealous that she could see things that way.  Where Harry saw politics and death threats and bullies, Luna saw fantastical creatures and pretty metaphors and a messy mosaic of mesmerizing broken glass.

He wondered what had made her this way, but it was much too personal a thing to ask.

He could tell that Draco knew it, too.

He was so gentle with the way he handled her eccentricities, drawing the truth from her in small, safe steps.

“Are you a fan of quidditch, Luna?” Harry asked, offering an olive branch in the best way he knew how.

“Oh yes,” Luna said sagely.  “The colors are quite lovely.”

“The… colors?” Harry asked, utterly baffled and looking to Draco for an explanation or for validation.

“I think the flying is my favorite part,” Draco said easily, as if flying and colors were equally integral to the sport and only a matter of preference.

“I like the freedom of it,” Harry admitted, slowly catching on to how conversations with Luna worked.  It seemed he would need to learn to just roll with the strange twists and turns or he’d be the one left behind.  “I don’t have to overthink anything when I’m in the air.”

“That is a good reason,” Luna agreed.  “I could chop potions ingredients all day just for the freedom, all floating and warm.”

What?

“Oh, you like potions?” Harry asked instead, not entirely sure what Luna’s idea of ‘potions’ would actually be.

Luna nodded, a sad, lonely look flitting across her young features.  “My mother taught me all about them.  Practicing keeps me close to her.”

“Oh,” Harry said awkwardly.  Were her parents divorced?  Was her mother dead?  Was she sick in St. Mungo’s like Neville’s mum and dad?  “I’m sorry that she’s gone.”

Luna nodded stiffly, before blinking twice and smiling vacantly.  “I think it’s lovely that unwanted things can be broken down with care and love and brewed into something useful and new, don’t you?”

Harry gave his own bitter-sweet smile.  “That is lovely, yeah.  It’s nice to be able to make things that help people.”

“I do hope the potions professor at Hogwarts will like me,” Luna confessed, twining her small hands together in her lap.  “I’ve heard unkind things about him, but I try not to believe those sorts of things.  People say all sorts of unkind things about me, too.  Do you think he will?”

Harry’s stomach twisted into knots at the thought of Uncle Sev.  He swallowed hard and pushed the scrunched-up thoughts away.  “I think that as long as you pay attention in class and always put safety first that he will be very glad to have you.”

Luna looked abjectly horrified.  “Oh, I am always serious about safety.  It would just be silly to take chances with potions.”

Harry grinned despite himself.  “Yeah, Professor Snape will love you.”

“Luna’s gonna steal your title of Teacher’s Pet,” Draco teased, hopping back into the conversation now that Harry and Luna were at ease with each other.

“I’ve never been much of a thief,” Luna said.

“Liar,” Draco said fondly.  “You steal the heart of everyone you meet.”

An hour ago, Harry would have been incredibly jealous of that statement.  Now, he was only mildly jealous and mostly agreed.  Luna was a different kind of friend than Harry was, because she was a different kind of person, but Harry still hoped that Draco would not want to spend more time with Luna than with him.  Harry liked his other friends at school, but he would rather hang out with Draco than any of them.  Not even Neville compared.

“I don’t think that’s true,” Luna said quietly.  “People often don’t like what they don’t understand.”

“My relatives called me a freak and locked me in a cupboard for most of my life because they didn’t understand magic,” Harry confided.

Luna patted his arm sympathetically.  “No wonder you like to fly.”

“Hey Luna?” Harry asked.  “Which Hogwarts house do you think you’ll go to?”

“I don’t really know,” Luna said dreamily, “but my only two friends seem to be Slytherins, so maybe that will be a factor.”

Draco smiled.  “The snakes would be happy to have you, but I’ll still be your friend no matter where you end up.  I promise, okay?”

“Okay!”

“Yeah,” Harry said softly.  “Me too.”

“Harry?” Draco asked.  “Why don’t you tell Luna about the dyslexia potion you’ve been working on with Professor Snape?”

Luna perked up immediately.  “Oh, please do!  What’s dyslexia?”

Harry scooted closer.  “It’s something that happens sometimes in people’s brains, where they scramble up the words and letters they see when trying to read.  It can be really frustrating and difficult when trying to learn.  I've been outlining a line of experiments to test out for potions that will hopefully help the brain see words the way they actually are.”

“Oh, I see!” Luna said.  “That’s very clever of you, Harry.  Are you trying to make a potion that helps the brain accepts what the eyes see or a potion that helps the eyes share what they know to the brain more accurately?”

“I was thinking more the former, but I’m still not an expert on dyslexia, so I don’t know for sure how it works.  Do you think that would make a big difference when designing the potion?”

Draco grinned at them and offered the occasional comment as Harry and Luna started working through the problem.

Harry shot him a grateful smile.

He was struck again by how nice it was to have a best friend that, while competitive and ambitious, didn’t mind allowing Harry to be the center of attention from time to time.

He supposed he owed it to Draco to return the favor, and let Draco have his own moment to shine, if only in Luna’s eyes.

Afterall, she seemed to need a good friend, too.

Chapter Text

Draco helped Harry and Luna grab their things from the limousine and weave their way through King’s Cross, while his mother trailed behind them.

He had been skeptical, last year, when his parents had insisted that they use the muggle entrance to the platform but now it seemed like a fun tradition.  He hoped they did it next year, too.

Luna was enthralled by the muggle architecture and mechanical and electronic devices that filled the train station, so Draco took great pride in explaining what he had learned over the course of the last year.  Harry joined in, offering up his own tidbits of information and pointing out things that Draco hadn’t even noticed.

As they approached Platform 9 ¾, Draco was struck again with how much he had changed.  Last year, all Draco had cared about was impressing Harry and being the one to guide him into the magical world.  He had barely even noticed the muggle innovations all around him, much less valued them.  He had already had his interest piqued by Harry’s explanations of things that day they’d first met in Diagon, but Draco had still seen the whole concept of what he would later learn to be mechanical engineering to be an amusing party trick or idle hobby.  He had not yet grasped how much technology had revolutionized how muggles lived.

How wizards lived.

Because the Hogwarts Express was definitely designed after muggle train engines and not the other way around.  Just like the Wizarding Wireless was based off of the concept of muggle radio transmitters and receivers.

The Wizarding community had once borrowed ideas from muggles as a matter of course, but somewhere along the line, they had lost that art.

Draco was going to bring it back.

“Come on, Draco!” Harry called.  “We’re headed through to the platform!”

Pulling himself from his thoughts, Draco ran over to where Harry and Luna were waiting for him.

They popped through the barrier all in a row, laughing as Harry stumbled and almost face planted onto the platform.

“You know, for such a graceful flier, you really are a clutz,” Draco commented, grabbing Harry’s arm to steady him.

Harry scowled at him playfully.  “Yeah, yeah.  The floor moved; I swear.”

Luna giggled.  “That’s very rude of you floor.  You should be more considerate of the people walking all over you.”

“And stop pretending to be a Hogwarts staircase,” Draco added.

Harry huffed.  “You’re both hilarious.  Really.”

Luna flashed a vacant smile.  “I am rather funny, aren’t I?  I’ve always thought so.”

“It must be the blonde hair,” Draco said, nodding seriously.  “It gives us a comedic edge.”

“Blonde hair does tend to scare nargles away when the sun gleams off of it just right,” Luna said.

Draco grinned.  “No wonder I’m always such a joy to be around!”

“Keep it up and you two can gleam alone together on the train.  I’ll go sit with Neville and Pansy.”

Holding in a cackle, Draco clutched at his heart.  “You’d abandon me?”

“I’m seriously considering it,” Harry said, smiling sweetly.

“You wouldn’t last five minutes alone with Pansy.”

“I would too!  And I said Neville would be there.”

Draco rolled his eyes.  “Nev’s great, but he’s not great backup against one of Pansy’s verbal rampages.”

“Maybe I’ll go hang out with the Weasleys then.”

“Oi!  The Weasleys are my pet project!”

Harry snickered.  “I dunno, Draco.  I’m the Boy Who Lived.”

“Cheater.”

“I use what I got, Rich Boy.”

They continued ribbing each other as they boarded the train and found a free compartment.

Luna sat primly at the edge of her seat, posture perfect and hands folded neatly in her lap, as she watched the commotion on the platform through the compartment window.

Draco was careful not to bump into her as he jostled with Harry to be the first to store their bags away overhead.  Many headlocks, elbows, and one stamped foot later, their things were all settled and Harry and Draco were seated across from each other, catching their breaths.

“Knew I’d win,” Draco said smugly, sticking out his tongue.

Harry laughed.  “You had a head start.”

“Do you guys mind if I sit with you?” Neville asked, lingering hesitantly at the compartment’s sliding door.

“Come on in, Nev,” Draco said easily, scooting over to make room for the shy Gryffindor.  “Have you met Luna?”

“Um, no.  Hello Luna,” Neville said awkwardly, making a stunted attempt at a formal bow in the cramped space.  “It’s a pleasure to meet you.”

“Luna, this is Neville Longbottom,” Draco said, smiling at the abysmally botched introduction.  His parents would be horrified.

“Hello Neville,” Luna said pleasantly.  “Are you a Slytherin too, then?”

“Oh, no.  I’m a Gryffindor, even though no one really understands why,” Neville said with a nervous laugh, finally sitting down.

Luna cocked her head and looked at him more closely.  “I’ve always heard that the roaring lions aren’t the biggest threat.  It’s the quiet ones, hiding in the grass where you can’t see them coming, that are the dangerous ones.  The loud ones are just a distraction, you see?”

Neville flushed at that.  “I, er, I suppose that’s true.  You know… in the wild and all.”

“Don’t let Neville try to fool you, Luna,” Draco said, flinging an arm around Neville’s shoulders.  “He’s got a spine of steel hidden beneath his grass-stained robes.  Harry and I are lucky that he’s on our side.”

Harry nodded.  “You’re a good friend, Nev.  That matters way more than pulling stupid, dangerous pranks just for the attention.”

Neville was beet red by now and steadily shrinking in on himself.  Draco decided he’d tortured his friend with praise enough for the moment.  Well… almost.  “Neville’s a genius at Herbology Luna.  If you ever need help getting fresh potions ingredients, he’s your man.”

Luna perked up immediately.  “Would you mind?  I don’t want to be an inconvenience, but I’ve never been able to grow my bleeding moon drops correctly.  The petals always fall off too early.”

“Oh!” Neville said, his shoulders relaxing.  “There are a couple possible reasons for why that is happening.  Did you plant them under a new moon?”

Draco quietly switched places with Neville so he and Luna could talk plants in peace.

He prodded at Harry’s shin with his foot.  “Hey, you okay?”

Harry smiled.  “Yeah, sorry.  I think I got stuck in my own mind for a bit, you know?  Luna’s super nice.”

“She is, yeah.  You’ll always be my best friend, though.  You know that, right?”

“I know,” Harry said, nodding.  “You think Flint’s going to have a heart attack when he sees some of the new moves we’ve been practicing?”

Draco grinned.  “I hope not!  Not until after he picks me for the team, at least.”

That made Harry laugh.  “Oh, we can’t let his death inconvenience you, can we?”

“Precisely.”

Chapter Text

Harry and Draco stayed with Neville and Luna rather than do the full round of introductions that Draco had subjected Harry to last year.  Harry could quickly see why.

Pansy burst into their compartment, excited to see them, only to sigh in annoyance when she saw Luna sitting there.  She greeted Harry, Draco, and Neville, pointedly leaving Luna out, and then abruptly made excuses to go hang out with Daphne, instead.

Harry glanced at Luna worriedly.

She did not seem bothered by Pansy’s rudeness, but Harry knew very well that some hurts were easily hidden, even when they stung deeply.

It made Harry upset.  He liked Pansy, but he didn’t like how she had just acted.  He still wasn’t sure what he thought of Luna, but he knew that no one deserved to be treated cruelly.  As far as Harry could tell, Luna had done nothing to warrant Pansy’s ostracization.  He was worried that this year was going to become very awkward, if both Luna and Pansy decided to vie for a place within their friend group.

If Harry had to choose between them, who should he choose?  Pansy was already his friend; he liked her and owed her for her help with the Ministry last winter.

But she was mean to Luna, who Harry was pretty sure did not deserve it.

Would Harry break up an important friendship in favor of defending a girl he barely knew and still did not like overly much?

And Draco was closer to both girls than Harry was.  How much more awkward was this going to be for him?  Harry was certain that neither girl would want to let their friendship with Draco go without a fight.

Harry felt sick to his stomach just thinking about it.

Why couldn’t everyone just get along?

Retreating into himself, Harry pulled out some of his Potions notes and began reading them over.  It never hurt to double check his work.

He was just working over why a particular recipe was calling for seven star-blossom petals when nine seemed far more suitable for the desired effect of fully activating the pickled pulminarus roots when Marcus Flint came knocking on their compartment door.  “There you two are!  How are my two future quidditch superstars?”

“Ready for tryouts,” Draco replied, smugly excited but also dead serious.

Harry nodded along, feeling confident in his skills, but still nervous about the whole thing.  The Slytherin quidditch team had become a second… or possibly third… family to him.  He did not want to make any mistakes to muck that up.

“Good,” Marcus nodded.  “Higgs was more than just our seeker; he was a unifying force on the team.  We’ll need to work hard to keep our skills sharp while we figure out our team dynamic without him.”

Harry frowned at that.  “I thought Higgs was a solitary player, even for a Seeker.”

“As far as his play style was concerned, he was,” Marcus confirmed, “but he also kept tabs on everyone and was ready with both on field and off field advice whenever anyone was having an off day.  That kind of quiet leadership can’t be forced, and it can’t be compensated for with straight flying skill, either.  Not that I’m worried!  We have the makings of a kickass team this year!  But it will be different.  I need everyone focused and ready to commit.”

Draco started peppering Marcus with specific questions, but Harry was clinging to what their captain had said.

He had always admired Terence’s quiet leadership, but he had never really thought about the specifics behind it.  He had just liked Higgs.

Now, Harry could not help but imagine himself embodying those same qualities.  He pictured himself staying calm and observant in a swirl of chaos that swept up everyone else around him.  He pictured himself expertly handling his own tasks, but keeping an eye out for anyone else who was falling behind.  Of pushing for his own success by pushing everyone else along with him.

He pictured himself being the kind of stabilizing and motivational influence that he had never really had in his own life.

Not until Professor Snape had rescued him.

Stern, but fair.  Professional, but empathetic.  Stoic, but genuine.

Harry wanted to play quidditch like that.

He focused on the sports side of his new ambition, not yet ready to peel back the layers of his relationship with Professor Snape.

With Uncle Sev.

The man who got his parents murdered.

The man who failed to save them.

No, Harry did not want to get even more mopey on this train.

He was being enough of a drag already.

It was not something Terence Higgs would have allowed of himself.

So, Harry wouldn’t allow it either.

He squared his shoulders and refocused on the strategy talked, working out what Draco and Marcus were talking about now.  They were both being enthusiastic, but not very specific in their descriptions or plans.

Harry glanced at Neville who, despite lacking interest in the sport, was still an outsider and not privy to Slytherin secrets.  Luna did not seem interested in the quidditch talk either, but Harry could still not get a solid read on her.

She was confusing.

Everything was bloody confusing this year, and it hadn’t even properly started.

Harry clutched his potions textbook closer to himself and sighed.

At least potions always made sense, even if it sometimes took Harry some time to work everything out for himself.  In the end, he knew he’d always find the answer.

That there was always an answer to find.

Life was not nearly so simple.

Chapter Text

Remus shifted uncomfortably in his chair, as the students filtered into the Great Hall, aware of far too many sets of eyes scrutinizing him.  Merlin, he hated being put on display.

He was paranoid that every bite of food he was about to take, every word he spoke, every gesture he made would out him as a wolf.

The presence of Severus Snape, bitter, spiteful, and vindictive as always as far as Remus could tell, sitting at the same table as he was, watching him with cold, obsidian eyes, was making his instinctual fight or flight drive flare into overdrive.

He tried to push Snape out of his mind.  Dumbledore had prevented him from spilling Remus’ secrets before, surely he would offer the same protection now.

Instead, he looked to Harry.

The boy was painfully small.  Painfully young.

It hurt to see James’ features on such an innocent face.

It hurt to see Slytherin colors draped over that narrow frame, too.

Harry should have been raised by Lily and James.  Surely, he would have valued bravery, adventure, and chivalry over cunning and selfish ambition if he had had the loving support of the bravest couple Remus had ever known.

As it was, Harry had been subjected to Snivellous as his Head of House for a full year before Remus had arrived.  There was no telling what kinds of lies he’d been filling Harry’s head with, of what kinds of manipulations he’d levied against the child.

Remus had caught snippets of a dynamic he could not understand in the papers over the months, of Harry defending Snape and defending the Malfoys and appearing very hostile against some aurors who had dedicated their lives to combating Death Eaters and You-Know-Who.

It was unsettling to see a miniature James be so taken in with the likes of Lucius Malfoy and Severus Snape.

Remus should have reached out to the boy sooner.  He should have…

But no.

He was still too much of a danger.

His circumstances were too precarious.

He was one wrong step away from being driven from town by a mob wielding pitchforks and torches.

Children needed stability, and Remus could not provide that.

He would never be able to provide that.

Even now, getting close to Harry came with a whole host of risks.

The last thing Remus wanted was for Harry to come to rely on him, only for him to have to pick up his meager semblance of a life and run.

But leaving Harry open and defenceless to Snape and so many children of Death Eater families… that was not an option, either.

Remus would have to walk a very fine line if he had any hope of saving Harry without getting him hurt, but he was certain that that was the real reason why Headmaster Dumbledore had insisted on him taking up the groundskeeper post this year.

Remus could see why his presence was necessary, watching as Harry and the little Malfoy boy whispered intently together, their heads almost touching.

They are all just kids.  None of them are responsible for the sins of their fathers.

Remus glanced sidelong at Snape, who caught his movement and sneered at him.

Then he looked back at the Malfoy boy.

He could only imagine the types of dark, hateful things that the child had been brainwashed into believing.

He undoubtedly only deigned to recognize Harry at all because of his fame and the myriad of rumors that had never quite faded about the night that James and Lily had died.  If Harry was any other half-blood boy, the little blond would undoubtedly consider Harry far, far beneath him.

No, Remus did not understand what circumstances had led Harry to where he sat today, but he was going to find out.  He was going to give Harry the truth about who he was and where he had come from.

Hopefully, Remus wasn’t too late to stop Harry from diving headfirst into a dangerous, deadly trap.

The unsorted first years filed into the room and took their places in a line in front of the staff table as they waited for the Sorting Hat to decide their fates.

He frowned at the floppy scrap of sentient fabric as Minerva brought it out.

Why had it chosen to place Harry in Slytherin?

Surely, it had seen an option for him somewhere safer.

The parents of so many of Harry’s so-called friends had sworn themselves to Harry’s mortal enemies and would no-doubt kill Harry in an instant if their Lord commanded it.

The hat had made a mistake.

Or worse, that hat had been tampered with.

He glared at Snape again.  Had this been Snivellous’ doing?  A final act of revenge against James?  To kidnap and corrupt his son right under everyone’s noses?

But then, Harry was Lily’s son, too.

And Severus had always had a soft spot for Lily.

So much of a soft spot, in fact, that it had driven James into a jealous frothing rage.

Would Snape really betray Lily like that?

He had sworn himself to You-Know-Who, despite his stance on muggleborns.

He had happily served as a Death Eater for months if not years before Dumbledore had somehow managed to turn him into a spy.

Remus never had been made privy to the details.

It was too much to entrust to a Dark Creature, apparently.

Even one as passive and spineless as Remus knew and loathed himself to be.

Perhaps that was why he’d never been told.

How long would Remus hold up under torture?

How long would he keep vital secrets safe if locked in a room with innocent children, mere hours before the start of a full moon, and told he’d only be given wolfsbane if he gave up one little thing?

Remus did not know.

And that was damning enough.

He never had been built for the hardships of war.

That had been Sirius and James.

Remus and Peter had been too soft for the hard decisions.

Then again, if someone had put a wand to baby Harry’s throat, Remus was fairly certain James would have let the world burn if it meant keeping his son unharmed.

So perhaps they had all been too soft, after all.

Harry looked up at the other end of the head table, frowned, and quickly looked away.

Sneaking yet another peek at Snape, Remus was surprised to see the man looking incredibly sad.

And then that familiar, cold sneer wiped all human emotion away.

Chapter Text

Severus barely noticed Gilderoy Lockhart’s nonsensically inane prattling to the staff and posturing for the student body as he waited for the first-year students to finish being sorted.

Years of suffering through the attention-hogging gossip of children had trained him to block out such obnoxious bloviations, which was good, because Minerva looked as if she was ready to relocate to the Slytherin table for some peace and quiet.

No, Severus was anxiously waiting for the opening feast to close and for some excuse to present itself so that Severus could speak to Harry Potter in person.

Which was stupid.

Harry had been left in good hands over the summer, or underhandedly manipulative hands, but hands that would do him no overt harm, surely.

Severus was yearning to make more than fleeting eye contact with Harry and to see a spark of something other than hatred reflected back at him.  He needed a hint that things between them were going to be okay.  He needed to apologize.  Again.

He was too invested in Harry’s wellbeing to content himself with being a despised outside observer, nor a shadowy, clandestine protector.

He was in far too deep for that.

Lupin’s quiet presence at the far end of the table was ironically far more difficult than Pick-Me-Lockhart to ignore.  Snape had no doubt as to why he was here; replacing Hagrid was merely a convenient excuse.

Harry Potter had proven himself to be far too cautious, rule-abiding, and Slytherin last year, and Severus could only imagine how much that grated against Dumbledore’s sensibilities.

He was reminded again of Dumbledore’s insistence that Harry remain at the Dursley’s, despite the neglect and abuse he’d been facing.

It made Severus’ skin crawl.

And it presented a problem.

How could Severus teach Harry to not accept ill treatment from authority figures when he had wronged Harry so badly and was currently desperate for forgiveness?

He had half a mind to stand up and cheer when Harry did not immediately brush off Severus’ past wrongs in favor of a hopeful future or sense that he somehow deserved the injustices that came his way, but God damn did it hurt to see the cool distance in Harry’s eyes and to read the guarded updates in his letters.

And now that there was a wedge between Severus and Harry, Remus bloody Lupin was waiting in the wings, being oh-so-reasonable and mysteriously sad.  How could an angsty, empathetic orphan resist such a lure?

Fucking hell.

Severus did his best to pay attention to which new students joined his house, clapping politely as each one walked over to the table of snakes and mentally gauging which difficulties each one was most likely to face.

He was most worried about the Lovegood girl, who looked very much as if she had no idea where she was as she wandered over to sit between Draco and Harry.

Severus had heard odd rumors about Xenophilius’ only child.  He supposed at least some of them had to be true.

How on earth had the hat sorted in the house of cunning, focus, and ambition?

He would need to keep an eye on her, especially as he noticed the second year Slytherin girls sneer at her and deliberately snub her.

Everyone but Draco and Harry, in fact, were giving her odd looks and edging away from her as she began to speak.

Had they met on the train?

Or had Harry met this girl earlier in the summer?

He hadn’t mentioned her in his cordial but distantly formal letters.

Severus almost wished that Lupin would get up to his old bullying ways and pick a fight with him.

He needed something to hit.

And hex.

And then possibly hit again.

He had a feeling that if he took his wrath out on Lockhart, the man would have a new bestseller by Easter about his harrowing encounter and brilliant slaying of the ‘dungeon dwelling vampire lord of Scotland’ or something equally trite, and making the peacocking fraud even more famous and wealthy would decidedly not put Severus into a better mood, no matter how satisfying hearing the man’s nose cracking beneath his fist might be.

Between the Slytherin House’s public show of solidarity last spring, Remus Lupin’s unofficial appointment as Harry’s lifeline to his father’s memory, and the papers still speculating on Dumbledore’s competency as Headmaster, this was shaping up to be a political headache of a year for Severus.

He missed being invisible and hated.  He missed being expected to scrape together enough passing grades from his students to avoid and inquest, to make at least one third of the first year students cry, and to do and be nothing other than a miserable bastard in teacher’s robes.

He missed having Harry’s secret but unyielding trust.

Merlin, when had Severus gotten so pathetic?

A sudden, blinding flash of light broke Severus from his thoughts.

His hand was on his wand, and he was halfway to standing up when he registered the source of the light.

A little first year boy who had just been sorted into Gryffindor was just tucking his camera away under his school robes.

Severus glared at the child, who blushed in response and waved.

The child looked star struck, prompting Severus to look around for Lockhart, who was still seated further down the table.

The boy was looking at Severus, and that vapid adoration and awe had not dissipated.  It was disturbing, to say the least.  No child should look at an unfamiliar adult that way, let alone Severus.

The boy wasn’t even a snake.

Merlin, he should have paid closer attention to the drivel the papers were spewing about him, because clearly, they were leading the innocent and feeble-minded far, far astray.

Lockhart had also noticed the camera’s flash, and had noticed that Severus, and not himself, was the object of the strange child’s misguided admiration.

Severus could feel the other man’s glare digging a hole into the side of his skull.

Perfect.

The last thing he needed this year was to get caught up in a one-sided pissing contest with an incompetent peacock.

Perhaps Lucius would be willing to adopt the man after he lost his post this coming spring… assuming he managed to survive.

Severus was dead set against more murder plots or life-threatening incidents happening on school grounds again this year, but if the victim was Gilderoy Lockhart, Severus could probably find it within his heart to make an exception.

Chapter Text

It was weird, not being the youngest person in the Slytherin dorms.  Harry couldn’t decide if he liked it or not.

Other one hand, it was nice to have one less thing that he couldn’t control singling him out as special, but on the other hand, Harry had liked being a part of the ‘carefree, silly first years’.

Now, there was a whole class of people looking up to him like an experienced veteran.

It was bizarre.

Gemma Farley had already pulled Harry aside to ask if he’d be willing to help struggling first years learn the foundations of potions.

Marcus Flint was also already grilling Harry to make sure he was ready for quidditch tryouts.

Harry’s time was already fully booked, and the year had barely even started.

“Hello Harry,” Luna said in that distant sing-song voice of hers that made Harry wonder if she had been born a bird and was stuck wistfully dreaming of home.

“Hey Luna.  How are you settling in?”

Luna smiled at him.  “Very well, thank-you.  The first year girls have been very welcoming and nice so far.”

Harry blinked.  “Er, they have?”

Luna nodded seriously.  “Oh, yes.  Astoria Green grass has made it very clear that I’m to be treated as a friend.”

“I’m glad she’s looking out for you,” Harry said honestly.  “Slytherins can sometimes be funny about people they see as different.”

“That’s true,” Luna said, draping herself over the back of the sofa Harry had claimed, while staring vacantly into the fire.  “But they also know that sometimes things become more valuable if they’re rare.  They just need to be reminded of that, from time to time.  Did you know that doxies eat nargles?”

“Er… no?”

Luna smiled, entirely to herself.  “They are quite helpful, actually.”

“I’ll be sure to keep that in mind.”

“Hi Luna!  Hey Harry!” Draco said, dropping onto the sofa beside Harry with an armful of sweets.

“What’s all that, then?” Harry asked, eying the veritable mountain of sugar.

Draco grinned.  “Study food.  Gotta start the year out right.”

“Uh huh.  You planning on eating all that tonight?”

“Not alone,” Draco said.  “You’ve got firstie potions study group duties and I have transfig, so I figure we can make a good impression and gain some minions with this.”

“That sounds lovely,” Luna said sagely, snatching a mint cream tart from Draco’s pile.  “I find that empty calories make fast friends, when people are open to the idea.  Don’t you agree?”

“Everyone agrees with that one, Little Moon,” Draco said fondly.

“Do you really need we need to start a study group already?” Harry asked.  “I don’t think we have any muggleborn first years in Slytherin this year.  Everyone should know the basics, right?”

“You’d be surprised,” Draco murmured darkly.  “The best private tutors are really expensive, and not all parents have the time or inclination to teach their kids much of anything.  They expect Hogwarts to fill in the gaps for them.”

Harry studied the dark shadow that had fallen over Draco’s face.  “You have a specific example in mind.  Who are you thinking about?”

“Greg and Vince,” Draco said with a sigh.  “Well, and Theo, but he’s a bloody genius who can look at a thing once and know exactly how it works.  He visited a few times while I had a tutor over, and he’d always know more than I did and stump the tutor with complicated questions.  Bloody annoying, that.  Greg’s dad gave up on him as stupid ages ago, though, and stopped bothering to pay for lessons, and Vince’s dad thinks learning book stuff is even more useless than Vince does.”

“I hope my potion idea helps Greg,” Harry said softly.  “You don’t think it’ll insult him to be offered the trial phase, do you?”

Draco gave Harry a sad smile.  “Honestly?  I think Greg will just be grateful that you cared enough to try to help.”

“Words are meant to dance in one’s imagination after they’ve been understood, not before,” Luna said wistfully.  “I think your potion will free Greg to think in symphonies.”

“I hope so,” Harry admitted.

“Want to go visit Professor Snape this weekend to see how close we are to a working recipe?” Draco asked.  “After tryouts, of course.”

Harry blanched but hid it beneath a smile.  “Yeah.  That sounds good.  I want to get started on it right away.”

Luna patted Harry’s shoulder.  “Don’t worry.  Your nargles will be eaten soon enough.”

“I… thanks, Luna.”

“Harry?” Gemma Farley asked, holding out a slip of parchment.  “The new groundskeeper asked me to give this to you.”

“Oh,” Harry said, frowning at the note.  “Thanks.  Any idea what he wants with me?”

Gemma shook her head.  “He didn’t say.  If he does or says anything that makes you uncomfortable, let me know.  Just because he’s an adult employed by the school doesn’t mean he gets free access to you.  You’re a student and a person first, and a celebrity way down the list.”

Harry smiled up at her and took the parchment.  “Thanks.  I’ll let you know if he gets weird.”

Gemma nodded curtly.  “How are you fitting in so far, Luna?”

Luna cocked her head from her awkward position lying on the back of the sofa.  “I’m the right size, but I might be part of a different picture.  I think we’ll need more pieces to find their homes before I can know for sure.  I like it here.”

“Oh… well good, I think.  If anyone gives you trouble, let me know.  You’re already friends with the top two second year students in our house, but if you have issues with your homework that they can’t help you with, you can ask me about that, too.  I’ll see you guys later!”

“See you, Gemma!” Draco called out.

“Thanks for the note!” Harry added.

“What does it say?” Draco asked, scooting closer.

Harry unfolded it and skimmed it over.  He frowned.  “He wants to have tea with me tomorrow after class.  The note doesn’t say why.”

“Well, you aren’t going alone.”

“I’ll be fine, Draco.”

Draco scoffed.  “You’ve already had an adult try to kill you on school grounds once; I’m not taking any chances.  If you want to meet him, I’m coming with you.  And if you want him to stuff it, I’m sure Farley will pass that message along for you, too.”

“I’ll meet him,” Harry said with a sigh.  “He did know my parents, after all.  Maybe he wants to talk about that.”

Draco nodded.  “Fair enough.  Does he say where he wants us to meet him?”

Chapter Text

Remus anxiously tidied his little office.  It was hardly more than a broom cupboard, but Hagrid had not left any paperwork or schedules for his myriad duties, and Remus had insisted that he needed a space to stay organized or he would inevitably miss something.

He was there for Harry, but that did not mean that he was willing to allow his paid duties to fall by the wayside.  Honestly, he could not afford to lose this job.

It did make him anxious, though, being surrounded by so many defenseless children.

If something went wrong, if his potion was faulty or if he was detained before a full moon and unable to take it, it could lead to a massacre.

He refused to let that happen.

The knock on his door made Remus jump; Harry must be early.

Compulsively straightening some last-minute bits and bobs, Remus took a deep breath and opened the door.

Three students stood there expectantly, a little mirror image of Prongs with Lily’s eyes, and two platinum blondes.

“Oh,” Remus said lamely, “I didn’t know you’d be bringing friends with you.”

The blond boy scowled and took a step forward, nudging Harry behind him.  Protecting him.  “Harry doesn’t accept invitations from strangers alone, Groundskeeper.  We’re here to make sure you don’t try anything funny.”

That… was unexpected.  All three children were decked out in Slytherin garb, but Remus could not help but think about he, James, and Sirius had always looked out for each other.

Before Sirius had betrayed them.

Before he’d gotten James and Peter killed.

Remus swallowed hard, willing the ghosts of his past to cease clouding his vision.  “Come on in.”

“Hello, Sir,” the girl of the trio said vacantly.  “My name is Luna, but I promise not to hurt you.”

Remus startled.  “What?”

The girl did not elaborate, instead ignoring Remus to look around his office.  Was the girl high?

“Little Moon would never hurt a fly,” the blond boy said fondly, watching Remus with a critical eye, “except maybe if she was in dire need of potions ingredients, I suppose.  I’m Draco Malfoy.”

Remus stared at the child, suddenly seeing Lucius’ sharp, scornful features on the boy’s face. He had heard rumors that the Malfoys had gotten their claws into Harry, but seeing it firsthand was disconcerting.  The boy seemed so genuine in his protective affection.  “And you’re friends with Harry?”

“Nope,” the boy said flopping inelegantly into one of the room's wooden chairs.  “We’re best friends.”

“I… see.”

“Why did you ask us here, Mr. Lupin?” Harry asked cautiously, shyly.

Lupin bit his lip to keep from pointing out that it had not been them he had invited.  If his friends made Harry feel more comfortable, then so be it.  “I saw you at the opening feast, and it was like I had been transplanted back in time,” Remus admitted.  “You look so very much like your father did at your age.”

Harry cocked his head, scrutinizing him.  It was unnerving.  “I had heard that you had been friends.  Why didn’t you reach out to me sooner?”

Shame blossomed in Remus’ chest, fresh yet oh so familiar.  “I would have liked to, Harry.  I have a… health condition.  I’m receiving treatment for it as part of my employment contract here at Hogwarts, but it was too expensive for me to acquire beforehand.  It would have been too dangerous.”

“It’s contagious, then?” Harry asked warily.

“Under certain circumstances, yes,” Remus confirmed.  “You are in no danger now.”

“I’ve never heard of a ‘health condition’ that was too contagious to allow for letters to be sent,” Malfoy snarked.

“Nargles can be transmitted by owl,” the girl replied with a sad smile.  “Is that what stopped you from writing Harry, Groundskeeper?”

Okay, she had to be high.  He needed to let Albus know.

“I’ve never heard of a potion that can stop an illness from being contagious without curing it,” Harry mused suspiciously.

“I never said it was a potion,” Remus pointed out gently, his shoulders itching in distress of where this conversation was going.

Harry narrowed his eyes.  “What else would it be?  If the treatment was a spell you would have learned it by now and treated yourself for free.  If it was an artifact or runic device, either you would have saved up for it on your own by now, or it would have been out of Hogwarts’ budget.  It has to be a potion.”

“He’s got you there,” Malfoy said smugly.  “Harry’s a mad genius at potions.  Your secret doesn’t stand a chance.”

“It is a private matter,” Remus insisted sternly.  Merlin, how had a gaggle of twelve-year-olds managed to back him into such a corner?

“Not if you’re potentially dangerous, it’s not,” Harry pressed.  “I don’t fancy another near death experience this year, thanks.”

“I promise you; the proper precautions are being taken,” Remus said.  “Can we please change the subject to now?  I was hoping to get to know you.”

“Is Professor Snape making your potion for you?” Harry asked, ignoring Remus’ plea.

“I believe so, yes.  It would be a serious breach of ethics if he were to confide in you on the matter.”

Harry shrugged, even as his eyes hardened.  “Don’t talk bad about him.  Professor Snape cares more about my safety than following wibbly-wobbly ‘ethics’.  He won’t let social norms get in the way of protecting me from anything.  Or anyone.”

Remus frowned, sensing a warded trap.  “You have a great deal of faith in him.”

Harry’s chin jutted out stubbornly, just the way James’ used to when he had chosen a hill to die on.  “He’s earned that faith.  You haven’t.  If you try to make me pick sides against him, you’ll lose.”

“I…see.  What makes you think I’d force such an ultimatum on you?”

“Because you hate him,” Harry said frankly, his small, childish shoulders squaring for a fight.  “You used to bully him, with my dad.”

Moony stirred within Remus’ chest, baring his theoretical teeth against the slight to his dead packmate.  He felt tension rise within his muscles, could see that Harry noticed it, but could not force himself to relax.  “Did Professor Snape tell you that?”

“No,” Harry stated firmly, “He didn’t have to.  My dad told me so.  Or do you deny ever calling him ‘Snivellous’ and attacking him?”

“Your Dad told you about that?  When?  How?” Remus paled, inching his way over to the chair behind his cramped little desk.  He was starting to feel lightheaded.

“He wrote me a letter,” Harry admitted defensively.  “I found it in my vault after I got my Hogwarts letter.  After I found out I was a wizard.  I don’t like bullies.”

It took Remus a moment for his brain to follow Harry’s abrupt change of subjects.  The boy was so adamant in his claim, it made Remus worry about the implications.  “Have you ever been bullied, Harry?”

“Why?” Harry sneered.  “Are you going to start in on me, too?  Gonna use my past against me?  Gonna use it to manipulate me?”

“Of course not!” Remus exclaimed, doing his best to stay calm.  This was not going the way he had expected.  “I just want to know that you’re okay.”

“You’re about a decade too late for that, Mate,” Malfoy drawled, looking far too pleased at Remus’ discomfort.  “But please, don’t stop digging on my account.”

“I care about you, Harry,” Remus insisted, pointedly ignoring the Malfoy boy.

“Yeah?  What is your health condition?” Harry asked bluntly.

“I’m not telling you that.  It’s private.”

Harry smirked at him, looking so much like Snape that Moony’s hackles rose.  “So, you do understand the concept of privacy.  Interesting.”

“Harry…”

“Allow me to be blunt, Sir.  I don’t know you.  I don’t trust you.  I am fully inclined to not like you.  Professor Snape is worth ten of you and that’s never going to change.  I don’t think you should invite me here again.”

“That’s not…”

“I think Harry’s said all he needs to say,” Malfoy cut in.  “Come on, Harry.  I think we should tell Professor Snape about this.”

Harry flinched, Remus saw it, clear as day.

Worry pushed away his lingering frustration.  What had Snape done to James’ boy?

He must have done something to give away his thoughts, because Harry glared at him.  “You know what?  You’re right Draco.  Let’s go talk to Professor Snape.  At least he’s honest with me.”

Remus very much doubted that.

He had no idea what web of lies the greasy bastard had spun for the boy, but Remus had no doubt that Harry was trapped within them, unable to see the danger he was in.

He needed to rescue Harry from his own overly trusting nature.

…He needed to free Harry from Severus’ clutches without jeopardizing his access to wolfsbane.

He had a sinking suspicion that Harry was not going to make that easy.

He’d need to call upon all of his Marauder skills to go about this.

Clever and sneaky.

Harry clearly needed him.

Chapter Text

Severus was in a foul mood.

It seemed his dunderheaded students got more ignorant and brash with each passing year and now that he was a quasi ‘celebrity’ in the papers, his usual implicit threats were losing their effect.

He had even heard rumors that certain circles of students were taking unfair detention from the Severus Snape as some sort of misplaced badge of honor.

It was infuriating.

Gilderoy’s passive aggressive jealousy was not helping matters, either.

The man was the very definition of foppishly insufferable.

His stupid self-obsessed grin and childish pouting whenever he was not the center of attention was enough to make Severus want to desire to rearrange the vain man’s face the muggle Cokeworth way… with brass knuckles and a straight razor.

Severus sighed and grabbed the next undoubtedly idiotic essay he needed to mark.

Merlin, his life was an unending cycle of misery, wasn’t it?

An ouroboros wrapped tightly in coils of monotony and choking the life from him.  He knew his misspent youth had been darker than most, but this irrepressible penance was slowly wearing him down.

It was his open office hours, but he still scowled when a handful of students barged in without knocking first.

Until he noticed that Harry was one of them.

Until he noticed the look on Harry’s face.

Setting his quill aside, Severus swept across the room, stopping just shy of trapping Harry in a likely unwanted hug, and got down onto one knee to look the boy in the eye.  “Harry, what’s wrong?”

Harry looked at him blankly, then searchingly, and then his face crumpled, and he launched himself into Severus’ open arms.

“I still haven’t forgiven you,” the boy murmured into Severus’ chest, “but I do trust you, Uncle Sev.  Why does everyone else just try to manipulate me?”

“Were you cornered by Lockhart?” Snape guessed with a disparaging sneer, “…or was it Lupin?”

Harry nodded against him.  “Lupin.”

“What did the 'useful' idiot do this time?”

Harry shrugged.  “He was just being weird.  I dunno.  It was like… like he kept looking at me and expecting my dad to climb out of my skin at any moment.  I didn’t like it.”

“It is tragically common for adults to impress their own biases and perceptions upon the next generation, “ Severus admitted, forcefully pushing the mental image of Neville Longbottom from his mind.  “No one who is unwilling to see you for who you really are is worth your time.”

“Thanks, Uncle Sev.  I… do you mind if I do some of my homework in your office?  I don’t really feel like talking to anybody else.”

“That’s fine, Harry.  Draco and Luna are free to stay as well.  Just stay quiet and let me work.”

“Thank you, Professor Snape,” Lovegood said with a curtsy, her eyes wandering to Severus’ shelves.

“Yeah, thanks Sir,” Draco added, shrugging his book bag off his shoulder and collapsing inelegantly into a chair.

Narcissa would be appalled.

Well, no.

Narcissa would pretend to be appalled while holding back her amusement.

Severus narrowed his eyes at the display, prompting Draco to grin unrepentantly and pull out a scroll of parchment and his self-inking quill.

These children were monsters.

Severus was proud to have them in his house.

He was prouder still that they had the good sense to be wary of Lupin and his harmless act.

Standing by while bullies ruined people’s lives did not make one innocent, and showing up a decade too late under false pretenses with the barest olive branch imaginable did not make one trustworthy.

Lupin’s brand of being a ‘good person’ would get Harry’s heart broken if he got too close.

Severus refused to let that happen.

Lupin could fuck right off.

They had just settled into a reasonable level of peace and quiet when Severus’ floo flared to life, revealing the overly coiffed head of Gilderoy Lockhart.

“Severus!  I was hoping you’d be in.  I have an extremely important proposition for you, Fellow Hero.”

Severus remembered he was in the presence of innocent ears in the nick of time.  Covering his colorful response under a cough, Severus instead rolled his eyes and leaned back in his chair.  “I highly doubt you could offer any proposition I would find even remotely tempting.”

Lockhart laughed.  “Oh, you are funny!  I guarantee this is something you will not be able to resist.”

“If this is an ill-fated attempt at flirting, I will punch you in the face.”

“Oh, heavens, Severus!  If you want to get a little physical with me, you’ll have to try harder than that!  But, no.  I have noticed that this school is currently lacking a duelling club.  You strike me as the most suitable staff member to act as my assistant.”

Severus pinched the bridge of his nose and reminded himself, yet again, that hurling a string of obscenities was not appropriate with Harry and his friends listening in.  “You do realize that Professor Flitwick is a duelling champion, correct?”

Lockhart gave a nervous laugh.  “I had heard that, yes, but I, er, I think that having an assistant of a similar height and build as myself would make demonstrations much easier for the children to follow.”

Well, that was the stupidest excuse Severus had heard in years, and he had an unending train of incompetent children constantly attempting to excuse their nonsensical behaviour.  Severus gave Lockhart a feral grin.  “I suppose that makes sense, and after Professor Flitwick, I am the next best duelist on the staff, and by far the most dangerous.”

Lockhart paled.  “You… you are?  I mean, of course you are!  Why else would I have asked you?  I need, uh, someone who can keep up with my own considerable skills, or we won’t be able to teach the children much of anything, will me?”

“Decidedly not,” Severus agreed.  “In which case, I do hope you will not be expecting me to hold back.  It has been a long time since I’ve had the occasion to test my skills in earnest.”

“No, no, of course not!  Both us heroes need an opportunity to shine, yes?  Although, naturally, we should probably hold back a little, just at the start.  Until the children have a firm enough grasp on the basics to somewhat follow along.  Wouldn’t want to waste our best moves when no one is capable of appreciating them, right?”

“Are you certain a full-fledged duel would not be the best way to enamor the youth, to draw them into the full alure of a duelling club ran by someone as… distinguished as yourself?”

Lockhart choked.  “Well, I… that does sound promising, I grant you, the children do deserve to see two masters at work, to be sure.  However, for the sake of safety, not for either of us, you understand, but for the bystanders, the younger ones in particular, we… well… perhaps we should both think it over before committing to a full duel.  Wouldn’t want to break any hearts if we determine it would be too dangerous, eh?  Anyways, that was all I wanted to ask.  Will you… I mean, I know you are a busy man, and I would not fault you at all if you had too much on your plate already?”

“Nonsense,” Severus said, baring his teeth.  “I look forward to testing my skills against yours.  Have a pleasant evening, Gilderory.”

The floo went dark, and Draco snorted loudly.  “Merlin, Professor, you’re going to wipe the floor with him!  Please make sure Harry and I have front row seats to see it!”

Yes, Draco Malfoy had grown on Severus, since he had first befriended Harry.

Since they both had.

“I would never dream of depriving the two of you.”

“Does it need to be professors who start clubs?” Harry asked, looking preoccupied.

“Most clubs require a professor’s supervision, at the very least, depending on what it is,” Severus said.  “Did you have something in mind, Harry?”

Harry bit his lip.  “What if we started a Potions club?”

Severus could not help but smile.

Chapter Text

Harry’s thoughts were tripping over each other in their mad rush to be explored first.

A potions club would be bloody brilliant!

They could make experimental potions, and brew advanced group projects, and practically test all of the theories Harry had come up with in his notes!

“A potions club would indeed be a noble endeavor, however, I will not allow students to run amok through my ingredient stores without limit.  I am willing to supervise such a club, but I will not be responsible for running it.  That will be on you, Harry, and I have some stipulations.  Are you alright with that?”

Harry nodded vigorously.  “Yes, Sir!  I can do that!  What stipulations?”

“First, unless you convince each house to start its own potions club, yours will need to be open to anyone, provided they follow the safety procedures and rules.  You cannot prevent anyone from joining or kick someone out simply because you do not like them.

“Second, following on from the first, you must accommodate members of various knowledge and skill levels.  I suggest starting each meeting with remedial tutoring for the struggling students, followed by a study hall for those who need extra lab time or group studying on school assignments and an advanced study group for those of you looking to discuss advanced theory and once I am convinced it can be accomplished safely and orderly, advanced and experimental brewing.

“Third, while there are a fair few skilled brewers within the current student body, nearly all of them have strong personalities that tend to clash.  I am not volunteering as a babysitter; if you cannot keep your advanced group in order, I will shut it down.

“And lastly, I will be placing limits on available ingredients.  Hogwarts has a set budget for school clubs and a set one for potions stores.  I will not have you blowing through that in a month.  Any ingredients that are subject to ministry control will not be allowed.  I do not care if you have a clever idea or if you have a written exception from the Ministry.  I am not willing to incur the risks.

“Are those terms acceptable?”

Harry beamed up at Uncle Sev.  “They’re bloody brilliant, Sir!  I can’t wait to get started.”

“You think the Weasley twins will want to join?” Draco asked innocently, looking directly at Professor Snape, who grimaced.

“I have very little doubt that those horrors will join, along with their older brother and your friend Mr. Warrington.  It will not be easy wrangling them into working together and safely for long periods of time.”

“Safety should always come first with potions,” Luna said softly.  Sadness tinged her oddly serious words.

“Indeed, Miss Lovegood,” Uncle Sev said gently.  “I assume you are also interested in joining?”

Luna nodded, a dreamy look dropping back over her features, softening them with whimsy.

Professor Snape nodded in return.  “I feel safer, already.”

Harry frowned at the interaction, trying to puzzle it out.

Luna blinked at him.  “I think potions is a lovely way to save lives, don’t you?”

“Er… yeah, Luna.  I want to do all sorts of good with the potions I make one day.”

“A brilliantly brewed potions has the power to drive nargles away.  Did you know that?”

“I do now,” Harry said, forcing a smile.  He liked Luna, but she really hurt his head at times.

“Perhaps I can use this potions excuse to avoid working with Lockhart,” Uncle Sev mused, his dark eyes calculating.

“Not until you kick Lockhart’s ass at least once though, right?” Draco asked with a malicious grin.

Professor Snape snorted.  “I suppose it would be remiss of me to pass up on an opportunity to educate the students on the folly of picking battles one cannot hope to win, by way of a demonstration.”

“Just make sure Harry and I have front row seats,” Draco chortled. “Father calls people like him upstart, new money, false glory pretenders, and says it is always satisfying to see them put in their place.”

“That sounds like your father, alright,” Professor Snape drawled, “although his definition of who deserves such a title tends to be rather broad.”

Harry’s brow furrowed, wondering whether or not Professor Snape was speaking from experience.  Him and Mr. Malfoy had always seemed to get along.

Mr. Malfoy had been the very first person to tell Harry that Professor Snape was a hero.

He didn’t like realizing just how many relationships that Harry had thought were simple were actually complicated and messy.

Like him and Professor Snape.

Merlin, that still hurt.

Professor Snape had been nothing but kind to Harry, his very own savior who had rescued him from the muggle world and made sure he was safe and cared for within the Dursley’s home.  He had opened the door for Harry to enter the world of magic and potions and friendship, and Harry would be eternally grateful to the man for all of those things.

But he had gotten Harry’s parents killed.

Harry wouldn’t even need to be rescued from the Dursleys if Snape had not done what he had done; Harry would have been living happily with his own loving mum and dad.

Would Harry have still been sorted into Slytherin if he had grown up with his parents?  Would he and Draco still have become best friends?

The more Harry lived his life, the harder it was to wish that things would have happened differently.

But that felt like a betrayal.

Surely, the good experiences of growing up with his parents would be enough to outweigh the good ones of being rescued by Professor Snape and befriending Draco.

That felt like a betrayal, too.

“Professor Snape?  What do you think Lupin wanted with me?”

Professor Snape blinked slowly, as if stealing a moment for himself to catch up with Harry’s train of thought.  “I imagine that the answer is complicated, Harry, but I assume that attempting to get to know you now to make up for not seeking you out earlier is a part of it.  He likely wants to assure himself that you are okay, to assuage his guilt.  He might… Harry, I do not want to unduly sway your opinion of the man, but please be aware of the possibility that he might want to change you to becoming more like your father.  More like his friend.  I suspect it might bother him that you are not the same brash Gryffindor daredevil that he was.”

Harry frowned.  “Why would that bother him?  You said it yourself that I’m a lot like my mum.”

“You are, and there is absolutely nothing wrong with that.  You should be very proud of being like her.  It isn’t rational and it isn’t fair, but many people see the physical similarities between yourself and your father and connect the obvious fact that you are both male and assume that you must naturally take after him more than Lily.  That is a false assumption, but it is one that people sometimes mindlessly make, since they have not taken the time to actively think it through.

“Besides, your mother and I have quite a bit in common, too, and as a current mentor figure to you, it might appear to the casual observer that I have somehow manipulated you into becoming more like me.”

Harry glared, his fists clenching by his sides.  “But that’s not true!  I’m the one who… who wanted to learn potions.  No one forced me to be me!”

“I know, Harry.  I apologize; I did not intend to upset you.  I do not even know for certain that that is what Lupin has done, but it is possible, and I want you to be aware of that possibility.  To protect yourself, if needed.”

Harry stared down at his forgotten homework.  He needed time to think that through.

Chapter Text

Draco was excited about starting a Potions Club with Harry but, as he sat through charms with enough pent-up energy that he was worried he might vibrate right out his seat, he was way more excited about quidditch tryouts that afternoon.

Draco had been practicing all summer, tightening up his flying instincts and working to combat his fear.

Skateboarding had helped.  The muggle sport simply did not work until one could shove their fear aside and just go for it.

Especially the half pipe.

Merlin, Draco both loved and hated the half pipe.

He would need to see if he could figure something out so he could keep practicing it here at school.  Now way was he going to embarrass himself in front of Piers again next summer.

He hoped his work all summer was enough to earn him a spit on the team.

He knew that Harry was still better than him, that his friends had already unofficially secured the coveted Seeker position, but that didn’t mean that he couldn’t beat someone else out for a spot.

Draco liked playing Seeker the best, but he thought he’d make a pretty good chaser, too.

He had spent hours bouncing a quaffle off the wall to himself at home to work on his throwing muscles and coordination.

Catching a quaffle was different than catching the snitch.  It was bigger and heavier and could throw someone off-balance on their broom if they weren’t ready for it.

Sometimes one hand wasn’t enough to make a clean catch, either.

Draco still wanted to beat Harry as a Seeker one day, but he had not allowed that ambition to cloud his mind or current goals.  He would be ready for whatever spot on the team that he could get.

Time dragged as Draco half-heartedly took notes and made a futile attempt to pay attention through his classes.

He pictured himself making a perfect barrel-roll, a flawless lateral dodge, a textbook Wronski feint.

If he envisioned it happening hard enough, maybe he could bring it to life.

He pictured himself as Harry, doing that insane flip over Draco’s back in the Slytherin common room last year.

Could he ever be brave enough to try something like that?

Would he ever think of something crazy and creative like that in the heat of the moment?

Harry’s lack of traditional convention truly did set him apart as a flier in a way that Draco’s technical fluency could never match.

And it made Harry extra fun to watch.

His mother always said that solid foundations and good teamwork won more games than flashy flying, and Draco conceded that was true, but he still wanted the crowd to cheer his name when he did something spectacular.

That was what he had always wanted, what he had always dreamed of, when he had learned on his practice broom, and played with his parents growing up.

He wanted to win championships and be MVP and make the front page of the Prophet with some dazzling display of ingenuity, daring, and skill.

One day, he promised himself.

One day, he’d have it all.

Grabbing Harry’s arm the moment their last class ended, Draco dragged them to the dungeons to change and grab their brooms.

He nearly tripped running down the stairs, Harry pulling him back from disaster with a laugh.

“Someone’s excited.”

Draco offered a sheepish grin.  “Aren’t you?  I’ve been waiting my whole life for this!”

“Well, I’ve only known about quidditch for a year, so I think you’ve built up a bit more anticipation than I have but yeah, I’m excited too,” Harry teased, giving Draco a gentle elbow to the ribs.  “I’ve heard a lot of people are trying out this year.”

Draco huffed.  “I know.  You’d think more than just Higgs graduated off the team.  Good thing Marcus already likes us and knows what we can do.”

Harry frowned.  “You don’t think he’ll play favorites, do you?”

“Not a chance,” Draco snorted.  “He would rather cut off his arm than sabotage the team’s chances with politics.  Still, it’s good to know that he has more than just today to use to analyze our skills.  He knows you and I work well with the team.”

“So does Cass.”

“True, but he’s not Seeker material.  He’ll be fighting for a Chaser spot, again.”

“So will we,” Harry said.  “There can only be one Seeker.”

Draco groaned.  “Are you trying to make me nervous?  I’m trying not to think about that.  I just want to go out there and do my best and measure that against everyone else’s best so I’ll know what to work on next.  Easy peasy.”

“Right.”

“I think I’ve improved a lot over the summer.  Skateboarding really helped get me over some of my mental blocks, and flying against you is good practice for anybody!  I like our chances.  Now drop it before I throw up.”

Harry chuckled.  “Ten Four.”

“Huh?”

“Muggle thing.  Military, I think.  Or maybe just radio.  I dunno.  It means I understand.”

They ran out to the quidditch pitch together and sure enough, there was a large crowd already forming in the field.  Harry waved to Millicent, who was standing on her own and looking determined.

Huh.

Draco didn’t know she liked quidditch.  He had to admit that she had gotten pretty athletic since their House had started morning runs last year, though.

He wondered which position she wanted to go for.

Vince was also there, a big glowering, hulking shadow.  There was no doubt about what position he wanted; he was trying to displace one of the current Beaters.  Fenwick and Burke were not going to give up their place easily, and as big as Vince for a second year, the two seventh years definitely had a considerable size and strength advantage.

If he was cleverer, Draco would suspect that Vince was simply putting himself on Marcus’ notice for the advantage going into next year’s tryouts.

Perhaps he was copying what Draco and Harry had done last year, or maybe he was getting advice from an older relative.

“Alright everyone, settle down!” Marcus called out.  “We’re going to be starting in just a minute, so if you haven’t yet already, please come let me know which position or positions you will be trying out for.  And if you aren’t here to take this seriously, leave.  Now.  We have too many people here to waste time goofing off and I promise I will make you regret it if you do.  Got it?  Good.”

Draco forced a confident smirk onto his face.

Easy peasy.

Chapter Text

Severus put on a casual air as he ascended the stairs to the staff box overlooking the quidditch pitch, acting as if he personally oversaw tryouts every year and this was nothing special.

Holding back a groan, he spotted Lupin already seated there, coiled like a spring and looking anxious.

“Doing a little enemy reconnaissance are you, Lupin?” Severus asked, dipping his voice into that dangerous, silky tone that never failed to grab his target’s attention.

Lupin looked up, startled.  “Oh, Severus!  I suppose I should have expected you to be here.  I’m just here to cheer on Harry.”

Severus raised a pointed eyebrow as he took his seat, pinning Lupin on his incredulity.  “Indeed.  I’ve heard that he is quite the flyer.  My entire Slytherin team has been talking up his skills since last year.  The captain especially is quite fond of him and Draco Malfoy.”

Joy sparked through Severus’ blood as Lupin stiffened.  “I’m sure they’re all very happy to have such a famous person on the team.”

“It certainly improves their chances of being scouted,” Severus mused, “but that is hardly why Harry is respected within my house.  He is a Slytherin through and through and has earned everything he’s gained with the rest of them.  I doubt most of them even remember he’s The Boy Who Lived on a daily basis.”

“I would just hate to see him taken advantage of,” Lupin bit out.

“So would I,” Severus drawled, leaning back in his seat.  “He has just as much Lily in him as James.  You would do well to remember that, Wolf.  He is my best friend’s child too, and I will not see him manipulated.”

“I’m not here to manipulate him,” Lupin snapped.  “I’m here to protect him.”

“A noble endeavor.  I had to fight hard to convince anyone that he was in danger last year, even after a direct attempt on his life.”

“That’s what the prophet said,” Lupin grumbled.  “But it was scant on the details.”

Severus scoffed.  “That’s a good indication that they’re reporting the truth for once.  Skeeter, in particular, likes to embellish with brazen falsehoods.”

“What happened last year, Snape?  The truth.”

“I do not trust you enough to share the full truth with you, Wolf, and I promise you that I never will.  The short version is that The Dark Lord possessed Professor Quirrell and spent the year testing Harry while trying to gain access to the philosopher’s stone Albus had hidden within the school as his own test for the boy.”

“Awfully bold of you to talk about trust, Severus, when you’re the one with the Dark Mark branded on your arm.  I read all about it.  The article even came with pictures, so I know for a fact your sins were not one of Rita’s ‘embellishments’.”

Severus sneered.  “Then you know full well that I was exonerated as a spy.  Who was there to vouch for Black at his trial?  Do you recall?  It seems to have slipped my mind.”

“Sirius’ trial was never publicised, and you know it.  I’m sure you tried to look up the articles once your own freedom was secured.  One more way to gloat, eh Snape?  The Marauder’s weren’t so perfect after all.”

“You were never perfect,” Severus spat, before composing himself.  “I did not need to read some gossip rag to relish in the knowledge that one of you finally got what you deserved.”

Lupin glared at him.  “Do you mean Sirius?  Or James?”

“At the time,” Severus bit out, “I would have been hard pressed to pick.  Now, however, after seeing the impact of Harry growing up without a loving family or support network of any kind, I cannot help but wish that James Potter had survived, for Harry’s sake.”

Lupin looked taken aback.  “No support network?  Don’t lie, Snape.  Surely Albus was keeping an eye on him.  Teaching him the things he needed to know.”

“When I first met him, Harry Potter firmly believed that magic was not real and that his parents had died in a muggle car accident.  Drunk.”

Lupin gaped at him.  “How… why?  I don’t.  That doesn’t make any sense.”

“Have you ever met Lily’s sister Petunia?  Or her other three-quarters, Vernon Dursley?  They both despise magic.  And fear it.  They abused and neglected their nephew unencumbered for nigh on a decade before I found him and intervened.  Albus still makes him go home to them every summer.  I had to arrange for a Hogwarts elf to provide him with food, Lupin.  It was bad.  So, excuse me for not trusting you or anyone else when it comes to Harry’s wellbeing.  You want to keep the boy safe?  Then stay out of my way.”

Lupin was silent, staring down blankly onto the pitch as the Slytherin team and hopefuls ran through some warm-up drills.

There certainly were a lot of snakes trying out this year.  Despite Severus’ vehemence that his house did not idolize Harry due to his status, he was quite sure that at least some of the crowd was here to glean a firsthand story about The Boy Who Lived and his fabled flying.

Even in warmups, Harry stood out from the rest.  His flying was so effortlessly graceful and fluid.  Mesmerizing.

Draco, despite his more conventional technique, was keeping pace with Harry, too, matching his every twist and turn as they led the way around the pitch in an on-brand combination of laps, tag, and downright showing off.

There were a lot of steady, competent flyers on the field.

It was early, Severus did not want to get ahead of himself, but things were looking good for Slytherin’s chances at the Cup this year if things continued this strongly.

“Harry looks good out there,” Lupin said softly.

“Shut up, Wolf,” Severus muttered, without much heat.

He was too invested in his analysis of the potential players’ skills to fall back into an argument.

It was harder to ignore the curious, scrutinizing stare drilling into the side of his head through ominous, amber eyes.

Severus refused to take the bait.

He wasn’t a wild, impulsive animal.

And Harry deserved all the support he could get.

Chapter Text

Harry glanced back at Draco with a grin.

It was truly amazing how quickly his worries evaporated once he hopped on his broom.

He knew he was showing off with his flying; he couldn’t help it!  Flying was a thing of pure joy, meant just for him; never mind that Marcus Flint was watching them and taking notes.

Harry let out a whoop and flipped over and around Draco, who mirrored his movements until they were intertwined in a spiral of limbs, barreling down the pitch in a single blur.

It wasn’t until they pulled out of their tightly coiled dance and noticed that everyone else had stopped to watch them with awed, nearly panicked expressions frozen on their faces that Harry registered how dangerous what they’d both done had been.

Merlin, one wrong move and he and Draco would have smashed into each other at high speeds.

That had been reckless and stupid.

He’d felt so natural and in control at the time, though.

He and Draco had spent so much time flying together, racing and doing stunts and generally just reacting off of one another, that it felt almost like they shared a brain in the air.

Marcus blew his whistle to call them all back to him.

Draco was grinning like an idiot by Harry’s side as they rejoined the group.

“That was awesome!”

“We’ve never tried anything that fast before,” Harry said, realizing just how close they’d been to clipping each other.  He suddenly wanted to borrow a pensieve to see it from an outside angle.

Draco cocked his head.  “I wasn’t scared.  I didn’t even think about being scared!”

“Neither did I,” Harry admitted shakily.  “Not until it was over.”

Draco burst out laughing, joyous and free while Harry snuck a glance up at the stands where he had nearly fallen to his death the year before.

Tearing his eyes away from the crime scene, Harry returned Draco’s smile.

He hadn’t even noticed he was in danger until it could have been too late.

“Alright, we seem to be thoroughly warmed up, now,” Marcus said with a mad glint in his eyes.  “Keeper hopefuls, line up by the close hoops.  Everyone else, line up at center field.  I want everyone to try to score, but Chaser hopefuls, my eyes are especially on you.  If you’re trying out for both Chaser and Keeper, do three rotations trying to score and then move to the other line.  Got it?  Let’s move!”

Harry and Draco flew to center field, with Adrian and Cass nipping at their heels.

“You’re going down, Pucey,” Cass jibed, grabbing a quaffle and rushing to the head of the queue.

“Not on your life, Warrington.  You’ll be chasing me for as long as you live and you know it!”

Cass flipped him off with a cheeky grin, then pointed at Draco and Harry.  “You’re both on my hit list, too.  Don’t think I’ll go easy on you just because you’re itty-bitty.”

Draco rolled his eyes.  “I’m not worried about it.  Harry and I have got this.”

And they did.

Harry was nervous right up until it was his turn and he started to fly.

Memories of falling melted away as Harry’s world narrowed down to himself, the three goals, and the Keeper hovering between them.

He flipped.  He dodged.

Time slowed and Harry saw his opening.  It was a slight gap under the Keeper’s left elbow.

He took his shot.

The quaffle ricocheted off the edge of the goal ring and through it.

Ten points to Slytherin.

Harry allowed himself a little smiled as he circled around to rejoin the end of the queue.

It was tight competition, between himself, Draco, Adrian, Graham, and Cass, although Graham kept dive bombing at the rotating Keepers until the very last moment before taking his shots.  He had liked to play dirty last year, too.  Harry knew that Marcus liked his players to go hard, but Montague liked to skirt the line into intentionally unsportsmanlike. 

Millie also had a dead aim, though her flying got a little shaky at high speeds.  It was nothing she couldn’t fix with a bit more practice.  Dustin Urquhart, now a third year, had the opposite problem.  He was fast and agile on his broom, but kept throwing wide, missing his mark by a fraction of a margin.  Once he got that under control, he was going to be good.

There was a lot of talent among the large group of hopefuls; Harry had to admit that Slytherin would do just fine this year without him.  They’d do just fine without Draco or Adrian, too, at least where Chasers were concerned.

Keepers, too.

Harry could not help but get excited for the Seeker try-outs.  He wanted to test himself against everyone to see how good he really was.

He had improved since the beginning of last year, when he had been new to flying, but he knew that he was not the only one to have done so.

Draco had improved way more than he had.

Harry still relied on instincts to do what he did; Draco had the technical elements of flying mastered and had been working to conquer his fear and hesitation.  If their corkscrew stunt earlier was any indication, he was well on his way.

Harry was very proud, even if the thought of Draco getting hurt made him feel sick.

Marcus was visibly shaking with excitement by the time the Keeper tryouts were over.

He split everyone up to run some passing drills and coordinated flight plays, forcing Harry and Draco into separate groups.

Harry knew it was to see their skills on their own and not just as a team, especially since they were hoping that one of them would make Seeker, not Chaser, but it still made everything markedly less fun without his best friend by his side.

Harry loved flying, but he loved hanging out with Draco more.

Chapter Text

Remus was too old for this; watching Harry’s reckless daring was clearly bad for his heart.

James’ son was clearly skilled, even more skilled than his father had been at that age, but he was taking so many risks.

The fact that he was taking those risks in the midst of a bunch of blood supremacists who were known for playing dirty only made Remus’ anxiety skip higher.  He seemed entirely unaware of the danger his competitors posed to him.

Remus could admit that the Malfoy boy seemed to genuinely be protective of Harry, though he still could not fathom how Lucius Malfoy had allowed that to happen, but Remus knew all too well how the lines between friend and foe could blur when competition and personal stakes grew teeth.  James and Sirius had gone too far against each other in the heat of the moment and had always been more likely to land themselves in the infirmary during a Gryffindor-Slytherin match than at any other time.

Even more than fighting against Snape.

Remus glanced askance at the man in question, caught off guard by his white knuckled grip on his wand and intense gaze following Harry around the field.

He looked… worried.

Remus frowned and snuck another glance.

It was a protective sort of worry, not the concern that James’ son was likely to weasel his way onto the Slytherin team that Remus would have guessed.

Severus Snape was proactively looking out for Harry Potter’s safety.

Diligently, too.

He had seemed genuine when confronting Remus about Harry’s homelife, too.

Remus thought back to a young Severus Snape, too skinny, unwashed, and struggling to maintain his rigid dignity while sporting threadbare, ill-fitting clothes.

He remembered the year Snape had walked onto the Hogwarts Express after summer break sporting a fresh black eye and a limp that he couldn’t quite hide.

Harry was Lily’s son, too.

Yes, Remus could believe that Snape would care very much if Lily’s boy had been neglected or abused.

But Albus never would have allowed that to happen.

He wouldn’t.

Would he?

Albus had allowed Snape to go home to his less-than-stellar homelife every year.

Snape hadn’t been an orphan, though.

There was only so much a school administrator could do against the wishes of a child’s parents, even one as powerful and respected as Albus Dumbledore.

Harry didn’t have parents, demanding that he come home.

Albus had taken Harry after James and Lily had been murdered.

Albus had promised Remus that Harry would be safe.

Have you ever met Lily’s sister Petunia?  Or her other three-quarters, Vernon Dursley?  They both despise magic.  And fear it.

Remus shuddered.  He knew all too well what it was like to be feared and despised for something beyond his control.

No child deserved to be judged so harshly.

They abused and neglected their nephew unencumbered for nigh on a decade before I found him and intervened.

Snape had found him.

Snape had intervened.

That should not have been necessary.

It didn’t make any sense.

But Remus had not smelled even a whiff of deception when the man had said those words.

He meant them.

I had to arrange for a Hogwarts elf to provide him with food, Lupin.  It was bad.

Moony bristled within Remus’ chest.  His inner wolf could understand the horrors of starvation.  It felt rage that a cub within it’s pack had been intentionally deprived.

Until Snape had not only fed him but secured him an ongoing source of food.

No wonder Harry trusted the man.

There was nothing half as persuasive as reliable access to life’s basic necessities.

People would sell their souls in exchange for the resources to live another day.

But Snape seemed to genuinely care.

He’s Lily’s son, too.

Remus… had misjudged this situation.

He did not trust Snape, not really.

The man was a branded Death Eater and had been a terror all throughout school.

His bitterness and cruelty were legendary.

But he wasn’t Harry’s enemy.

Remus needed time to think.

The students cheered loudly, and a small smile flitted across Snape’s face.

Remus focused his attention back on the tryouts in time to see Harry flying towards the team captain, his arm raised high with the wings of a snitch barely visible and fluttering within his grasp.

Remus had missed it, but it must have been impressive to garner a cheer like that.

From a group of cheating, dirty blood supremacists.

Remus looked closer as the captain gave Harry a slap on the back.

It seemed supportive, encouraging, friendly even.

The Malfoy swooped over and gave Harry a high five, grinning wildly while Harry laughed openly and honestly.

Several of the other students flew over to Harry too and Harry seemed pleased to interact with every single one of them.

Why had Albus hired Remus?  Had been certain he knew.  Albus had hinted to many things without much subtlety.

But none of Dumbledore’s hints had insinuated this.

Harry, for all the world, appeared to have friends within Slytherin.

…That is hardly why Harry is respected within my house.  He is a Slytherin through and through and has earned everything he’s gained with the rest of them.

Remus could see what Snape had meant.

I had to fight hard to convince anyone that he was in danger last year, even after a direct attempt on his life.

Snape had meant Dumbledore, hadn’t he?  He was implying that Albus had allowed Harry to be left in danger on purpose.

Why?

Remus clearly had some digging to do.

He was too old to choose his side blindly, based on outdated loyalties and presuppositions alone.

The team captain released a snitch into the air, paused, and blew his whistle, prompting the Malfoy boy and one other boy to tear into the sky.

Remus watched as Harry followed Malfoy’s movements carefully, cheering him on.

His looked mirrored that of Snape, watching over him.

Protective.

Remus snuck another glance at Snape.

Proud, but protective.

Even at the height of competition, Harry wanted the Malfoy boy to succeed and to be safe.

He’s a good boy.

And, Remus swallowed… Severus Snape was a good professor.

A worthy guardian.

If Remus wanted a place within Harry’s life, he was going to have to share.

Chapter Text

Draco circled the pitch, forcing his eyes into a half-focused state that would pick up movement quickly.

He was calm and alert, scanning the horizon for any glint of golden light.

He felt good.

He felt like he was teetering on the verge of watching the world shift to slow motion around him as he effortlessly traversed it.

Like time itself was bending to his will.

Draco had had good moments when flying before, but this felt different.

This was his fear of skateboarding and his confidence in his mastery over a broom and his instincts of how his opponents would react at any given moment all narrowed down into a single pinprick of readiness.

He was going to give Harry a run for his money, he just knew it.

He was going to make this the hardest decision Marcus Flint was ever going to have to make.

A cold smirk settled over Draco’s face as he patrolled the skies above the pitch like a stalking predator, calm, patient, and infinitely ready to strike.

He had already beaten Cass and Adrian to the snitch once each and besides Harry, they were his biggest competition.

Cass had been good, but his larger frame lent itself far more to a Chaser or Beater role than that of a Seeker.  He was also going to make Marcus sweat when finalizing the team roster, but not for the Seeker role.

Adrian had surprised Draco, though, putting up more of a fight than he’d expected from the seasoned Chaser.  He had clearly spent his summer practicing, too, and had upped his agility in the air by an impressive margin for one who had already been skilled.

Harry sped directly past Draco, making him flinch.

Dammit.

Draco could not afford to let his guard down, not with Harry Born-With-Feathers Potter on a broom.

Not with eternal glory and his childhood ambitions on the line.

The worst part was that Draco knew Harry wasn’t showcasing Draco’s weaknesses intentionally.  Draco’s flinching hesitation was simply too obvious a flaw to not exploit.  It happened naturally, when one flew as recklessly as Harry.

Closing his eyes for a moment, Draco pictured himself standing at the lip of a halfpipe, ready to lean in.

He could do this.

A flash of gold caught Draco’s eye.

Harry had seen it too, already angling towards the prize.

Harry was closer to the snitch, but Draco was higher.

He could use the extra momentum of gravity to his advantage.

If he timed it right.

Moment of truth.

He stood at the precipice, fear clawing at his chest, holding him back.

Draco leaned forward.

The world blurred around him.

Tears stung at his eyes as he picked up speed.

If he hesitated, he wasn’t going to win.

Pushing harder, Draco dropped in front of Harry and transitioned out of his dive with a flourishing roll that whipped his robes into Harry’s face, obscuring his vision for just one critical moment.

One miniscule advantage.

Streamlining himself against his broom, Draco pushed himself to his limits, willing himself to go faster while angling his body in little veering swerves to break Harry’s line of sight with the snitch for fractions of a second at a time.

The snitch zagged towards the supporting posts of one of the goals, zigging again behind it.

Draco was going to crash.

No.  He wasn’t.

Cutting the angle as close as he could, Draco kept his speed, brushing past the unyielding post so close it clipped the padded shoulder of his quidditch robes, cloth snapping in the air.

From the corner of his eye, he saw Harry veer wide to avoid a collision of his own.

This was it.

Taking advantage of the reprieve from Harry’s relentless trailing, Draco dropped his feints and dodging to narrow in on the snitch.  Straining himself, Draco reached forward at the edge of overbalancing, leaning into the drop, and closed his numb fingers around fluttering silver wings.

He'd done it.

He’d done it!

The snitch was clutched firmly in his hand, struggling feebly against his iron grasp.

He let out a startled laugh, not quite believing what had just happened.

He had beaten Harry Potter to the snitch.

He’d won.

Twisting around in the air, Draco met Harry’s eyes and held up his arm, victorious.

Harry grinned and eased up on his own broom enough to clap.  The sounds of more applause echoed around him from far below, accompanied by whooping yells and cheers.

“That was brilliant!” Harry called out loudly, breaking into an unfettered laugh.

Draco pulled his broom up next to Harry’s and cautiously gave his friend a midair hug.

Harry was happy for him.

Harry was genuinely impressed by Draco’s flying and was excited for Draco’s victory so thoroughly that it made him beyond gracious in defeat.

Merlin, how had Draco gotten so lucky?

Before he had met Harry, Draco had not even known to hope for a friend as selfless and inspiring as him.

He knew, even as Harry punched his shoulder in playful congratulations, that Harry was going to use this contest to push himself harder for next time.

Draco grinned.

He would use Harry’s motivation to further his own, too.

Together, they would keep pushing each other higher and farther than either of them could manage on their own.

But for today, Draco had won.

No matter what Marcus decided regarding the Slytherin team, Draco knew that everyone had seen him manage some truly impressive fancy flying, and he had done it without flinching.

Draco had never felt more proud.

Chapter Text

Harry was an anxious wreck as he waited for the quidditch results to come back and for Marcus to post the official team roster.

He loved flying, but he knew that Draco and Cass did too, and there weren’t enough spaces on the team for all of them.

Harry would be crushed if he didn’t make it and Draco did; he’d have so much free time without his best friend.  He would also feel awful if he made it and Draco didn’t.  Draco had worked so hard for this, and he had flown beautifully and fearlessly in tryouts.  He should make the team.

If Harry made it over Draco, he was worried that everyone would assume politics were involved.  Harry didn’t want to get Marcus in trouble just by being him.

This whole Boy Who Lived was often more trouble than it was worth.

That left Cass.

Cass wanted to make the team just as much as all of them, had worked just as hard as all of them, and had learned a few new tricks over the summer, too.

He was always so kind and inviting to Harry, always there with a smile and some friendly advice while constantly ready to make Harry laugh when he was feeling down.  And he was older than Harry.  That should count for something, shouldn’t it?

Harry and Draco both had two extra years to make the team that Cass didn’t have.

And it wasn’t like Harry wanted Adrian to lose his spot on the roster, either.

None of it seemed fair.

Maybe Harry could volunteer to be the alternate.

That way he would still be practicing with the team and hanging out in the locker room with everyone before games, even if he didn’t actually get to play.

Professor Snape had never played for the Slytherin quidditch team, and he  had become the youngest potions master in history.

Maybe… maybe flying was too much of a distraction.  Maybe it was holding Harry back from his more important ambitions.

Perhaps Harry could not afford to be a jack of all trades when he quite literally wanted to become a Master like his mentor.

When Marcus appeared in the Heir's Room Auditorium where all the team hopefuls were gathered, he looked stressed but excited.

And a little manic.

Harry wondered it he had remembered to drink water at all.

“First off,” Marcus began, the magic on the stage automatically amplifying his voice as he addressed the crowd, “I would like to thank each and evert one of you for making this the most difficult decision I’ve ever had to make.  We could easily field two full teams this year, each contenders for the cup in their own right, and still have talent left over. 

“To everyone who didn’t make the cut this time, don’t give up.  Keep practicing and stay in shape.  Your time will come.  We have an honest-to-Merlin secret pitch for Snakes only for at least as long as our current elusive Heir stays enrolled, and I expect all of you to make good use of it.

“I am willing to work with each and every one of you this year to help you improve.

“That said, I am happy to announce to you this year’s Slytherin Quidditch Team.

“In the position of Keeper, Miles Bletchley.”

Harry and everyone else in the audience cheered as Miles jogged onto the stage and shook Marcus’ hand.

“In the positions of Beaters, we have Fabian Fenwick and Richard Burke.”

Harry’s clapping was slightly less enthusiastic as Stanton Avery’s two friends high-fived and joined the team.  They hadn’t done anything terrible to Harry themselves last year, but they always quietly took Avery’s side whenever he picked on Harry or made judgemental comments.  They were good Beaters, though.

“For our primary Chaser positions, we have myself, Adrian Pucey and Harry Potter.”

Harry swallowed hard, even as Draco nudged his shoulder to prompt him up onto the stage.  He was on the team.

He’d actually made it.

That meant that either Draco or Cass hadn’t.

He felt sick as Marcus shook his hand and gave him a reassuring wink.

“As our primary Seeker, we have Draco Malfoy.”

Harry let out a loud whoop on behalf of his best friend as Draco jumped up from his seat and sprinted up onto the stage, pulling Harry into a giant bear hug.  “We did it!”

Harry nodded, shooting Cass a sympathetic glance.

The older boy was smiling and clapping along with everyone else, but Harry could see the brittle edges of his happy mask.

“And finally, as our official alternate, we have Cassius Warrington.  Let’s give it up for the team!”

Cass shook Marcus’ hand then moved down the line, shaking the hands of everyone else on stage and congratulating them for making the cut.

It was such a classy move that Harry wanted to cry.  Would he ever be courageous enough to be so dignified in defeat?

Lost in thought, Harry missed Marcus dismissing the remaining audience, only realizing that they had gone when their Captain clapped his hands sharply together to start their first official team meeting of the year.

“What’s with all that ‘primary’ nonsense, then Captain?” Miles asked, raising an eyebrow.

Marcus gave a terrifying grin.  “I double-checked the rule book.  We can announce our official roster and still swap roles within the team even without injury, illness, or detentions so long as we give Hooch twenty-four hours notice.

“Adrian, keep brushing up your Seeker skills, because I have a plan.  We’re going to scout our competition and tailor our roster to match theirs.  This current configuration offers the greatest overall strength, which is why it is primary.  Draco, you impressed the hel out me in tryouts.  Well done!

“Draco’s technical flying skills is going to give him a real edge against most other Seekers.

“Harry’s unconventional flying and batshit decisions in the air, however, will be invaluable against any unusually aggressive Seekers we might play against.”

Harry started at praise and felt a pit of dread in his stomach at how much Marcus had already thought-out Harry’s place on the team.  He would be letting his Captain down now, if he let Cass take his place.  There was no way to make everyone happy, was there?  “Harry will be able to bait his fellow daredevils in a way that frankly no one else I’ve ever seen would be able to manage.

“And finally, if we find out that a team has a particularly troublesome beater pair this year, that stunt Harry and Draco pulled in warm-ups was enough to prove how in-sync they are in their aerial acrobatics.

“Adrian is a strong enough flyer to cover as either Chaser or Seeker while I utilize our two new secret weapons to poke at our opponents’ weaknesses.  And as always, Cass is a fantastic all-rounder who will be able to fill in wherever we need if anyone absolutely has to miss a game.

“And if anyone does miss a game or even a practice for anything less than a stellarly justified reason, I will have Cass replace you fulltime.  He’s too good to be benched if any of you aren’t putting in your full effort and dedication to the team.”

“Thanks, Marcus,” Cass whispered.

Marcus clapped him on the shoulder.  “I mean it, Cass.  You’ll make the official roster sooner or later.  You were extremely close to making it now.  We have two players graduating after this year, and I already have plans for how to fit your playstyle into the team, so don’t you dare give up on us.  We need you.”

Giving Marcus a toothy, genuine grin, Cass spread his arms wide.  “I wouldn’t dream of it, Captain.  I’m going to keep every last one of you on your toes all year.”

Straightening his spine, Harry nodded along with everyone else, accepting the challenge.  The team comes first.

Chapter Text

Draco could not help but strut around school as word spread that he was Slytherin’s new Seeker.  He felt validated and important all in his own terms; this achievement had nothing to do with his father’s name nor with Harry’s.

Draco had earned it all on his own.

He did feel bad that Cass hadn’t made the team again, but he would rather play with Harry anyways.  He felt less bad that Graham Montague had lost his Chaser spot.  Montague had been the outsider on the team all of last year and hadn’t seemed to put much effort into practicing over the summer.

That didn’t stop the fourth year from giving Marcus and the rest of the team the cold shoulder, though.

Draco understood why he was upset, but thought he was crazy for antagonizing their captain.

Both of their Beaters were graduating this year, which would open up two spots for next season.  Montague was big enough that could probably snag one of those spots if he focused on learning the position over alienating himself from the team.

Draco wondered if Cass would start learning the Beater position, too.  He was leaner than Graham but he seemed strong enough.

Maybe he could use Draco and Harry as extra bludger target practice.

Beyond the all important Quidditch, school was going well.

Draco and Harry were both contenders for top spot in most of their classes.  Harry was clearly still Snape’s favorite and Draco was determined to earn a soft spot with McGonagall even if it killed him.

Both Harry and Draco were trailing behind Neville in Herbology, but that was to be expected.  They were both still near the top of the class, and doing better than Draco would have managed if he hadn’t befriended the Gryffindor last year.

Draco and Harry were neck and neck in Defence and Charms, even though Lockhart got on both of their nerves.  Harry just thought he was annoying, but he gave Draco the creeps.

Astronomy was a breeze for Draco thanks to his Black heritage early education and while he didn’t give much of a toss about History of Magic, he was getting by without bringing down his average too badly.

He had even managed to find some introductory muggle workbooks for biology, chemistry, and physics that he was working through in his spare time.  It was tricky without a teacher there to help him, but it was a fun challenge.

Merlin, Harry’s Teacher’s Pet ways were getting contagious.  Mother would be so pleased.

Father, at least, had his priorities straight.  After Draco had made the Quidditch team and hearing from Draco how Marcus was intent on flooding the pro league with Slytherin alumni in the coming years, He had lifted the whole team brand new brooms.

Between their new equipment, secret and exclusive training arena, and Marcus’ leadership, they all had a real chance at playing professionally.

Draco grinned as he imagined walking out onto the pitch at the Quidditch World Cup as the announcer shouted his name to a deafening roar of cheers and applause.

He knew he’d have to keep working hard to get to that level, but it would be worth it.

Once Potions Club started up, he was going to have hardly any free time!

He still needed to write Piers a letter, too.

Even if he couldn’t explain Hogwarts and magic to his new muggle friend, Draco had no intention of abandoning him until next summer.  Draco had always been good at telling stories; he’d just have to spin a good one about his and Harry’s exploits as the prestigious and mysterious St. Brutus’ boarding school.

It would be a fun challenge.  He’d just need to be careful not to commit any probable lies to paper, or he might lose Piers’ trust.

He wondered how muggleborn students dealt with extended relatives and childhood friends who weren’t eligible to know about the existence of magic.  It must be hard.

Draco wondered if that was why Granger was so stubborn and stuck up in her display of knowledge, because no one she knew from before last year were allowed to hear about everything she’d learned.

Draco frowned.  Or maybe she was just so overbearing and annoying that she had never had any friends.

Just because Draco was widening his social circle didn’t mean he had to take pity on every self-inflicted tragedy he came across.

‘St. Draco the Charitable’ was not a moniker he ever wanted for himself.

It lacked the charming ring that ‘Draco Malfoy, World’s Greatest Seeker’ had anyways.

Rounding the next corner on his way to the library, Draco stopped short at the sight of Gemma Farley and Percy Weasley huddled together, thick as thieves.

“I didn’t know you two knew each other,” Draco said loudly, causing the two to jump.  He smirked at their discomfort.

“Oh, hi Draco,” Gemma said sheepishly, “do you need help with something?”

“Why wouldn’t we know each other?” Percy asked archly.  “We’re both prefects.”

Draco waved Percy off.  “I don’t need anything.  I just forgot to write down who said some quote I’m using in my Transfig essay, so I have to look it back up.  What are you two talking about?”

Gemma shifted anxiously.  “I’m not sure we should say anything just yet.  Not without proof.”

“Proof of what?” Draco asked, his curiosity piqued.  He always had loved a good scandal.  “You can trust me.”

“It’s not that we don’t,” Gemma insisted.  “It’s just complicated grown up stuff.  I don’t want to ruin anyone’s life if we’re wrong.”

“Maybe we should tell him,” Percy said.  “Warn him.  He’s resourceful.”

“He’s twelve.”

Percy shrugged.  “He’s the reason I even thought of reaching out to you about this.”

“He is?”

Draco blinked.  “I am?”

Shrugging gracelessly and running a hand through his violently red hair, Percy said, “Yeah, well… I haven’t historically had the best impression of Slytherins.  You’ve helped my family a lot though, Malfoy.  And me, personally.  Listen, Farley.  I get wanting proof, but we have to at least warn the younger ones to be cautious, just in case.  I don’t want our proof to be in the form of a ruined life.”

Without even meaning to, Draco wrapped his arms around himself.  His skin felt prickly, and he was suddenly on high alert.  “What’s wrong?  If kids are in danger, you have to tell me.  I can’t risk anything happening to Harry again this year.”

“We don’t know if anything is wrong yet,” Gemma said, “so please don’t take things into your own hands.”

“We’re worried about Lockhart,” Percy interjected bluntly.  “Just… be careful around him, okay?  And maybe don’t let any of your friends go to his office or to detentions with him alone or anything.”

“It’s nothing to worry about, not yet, but Percy and I just find it a little disturbing that a grown man is encouraging his underage students to fawn over him so aggressively.  It might be completely innocent, but we just don’t know.”

“Better safe than sorry,” Percy said with a stiff nod.

Draco nodded, too.  “He’s creepy.  I… I can’t really explain why.  It’s just a feeling, but I don’t like it.  I don’t like him.  Our last Defence teacher tried to kill Harry last year.  I don’t want to take any chances.”

“Just stay alert.  If you see anything suspicious, let another professor know right away.  Or me or Percy.  Don’t try to investigate or fix things on your own.”

“I will,” Draco promised.  “And I won’t.  Investigate, that is.  Does Professor Snape know, yet?”

“I haven’t spoken to him.  I was hoping to have some actual evidence.”

“Maybe you should tell him now,” Draco said cautiously, not wanting to upset her.  “You’re Lockhart’s underaged student, too.  I mean, I know you kick ass, and I’ll never forget that you were always on Harry’s side last year, but you’re still just a teenager.  You know?”

Gemma sighed but ruffled Draco’s hair fondly.  “Fair point, kiddo.  Let’s all agree to be cautious, then.”

“Agreed,” Draco said solemnly.  “Thanks for the head’s up.  I… should be going now.”

Anonymous quote forgotten; Draco hurried back down to the dungeons.  Lockhart was already too enamored with Harry’s fame.  If anyone deserved the warning, it was him.

Draco refused to stand frozen and watch helplessly while Harry was hurt by a teacher again.

Never again.

Chapter Text

Harry had mixed feelings about going to the first Duelling Club meeting with his friends.

On the one hand, he and all of the other Slytherins were certain that Professor Snape was going to wipe the floor with Lockhart and Harry couldn’t help but think that the braggadocious narcissist deserved it,  but on the other hand, Harry felt guilty about looking forward to anyone’s public humiliation and downfall.

It felt too close to being a bully.

Lockhart was famous, too, so the stakes of a public shaming were even higher.

But then again, Harry was convinced that a fair amount of Lockhart’s tales of adventures and exploits were bald faced lies.

Was exposing The truth of his incompetence really bullying or was it a noble and necessary act?

Or was thinking that just making excuses for something cruel?

Harry didn’t know and that made him uneasy.

At the very least, Harry resolved not to laugh too hard at whatever was about to happen.

Probably.

“I hope Lockhart falls right on his pretty face,” Daphne said sourly.  “Maybe then Astoria will shut up about him for five seconds.”

Pansy snickered.  “I dunno.  He’s hilariously incompetent in class now.  If he hits his head even once he might turn into a drooling vegetable.  That’s no fun.”

“He’s low hanging fruit, Pans,” Blaise said slyly, glancing at Harry and rolling his eyes behind Pansy’s back as they walked.  “Getting McGonagall to go off on a tangent is an accomplishment.  Getting Lockhart to do it just means reality hasn’t shattered.”

“Still beats classwork,” Pansy insisted, sticking out her tongue.

“Not in defence!” Harry felt obligated to say.  “I like being able to practice the fun spells.”

“Teacher’s Pet,” Draco teased.  “Theoretically, a Duelling Club should be more fun than class.  I doubt we’ll learn much of anything useful in either one, though.  Not unless Professor Snape takes over entirely.”

“Snape wants to be the Defence teacher, you know,” Pansy said.  “Dumbledore’s too bigoted to let him do it.”

“Or he likes him too much,” Theo cut in.  “Everyone says the position is cursed, after all.  Even the seventh years haven’t had the same defence professor for two years; I’ve asked.”

Blaise rolled his eyes.  “You know who everyone says placed the curse, right?  If the bloody Dark Lord could curse a whole ass teaching position, why didn’t he just curse the position of ‘student named Harry Potter’ and be done with it?”

“Shut up, Blaise!” Draco said hotly.

“Whatever.  I’m not saying he should have done that, I’m saying that if he was truly capable, he’d be stupid not to.”

“He’s not stupid,” Vince said quietly.

“He kind of is.  Just because your parents bent the knee to an idiot doesn’t mean I have to pretend to be blind.”

“Can we please talk about something else,” Harry said weakly as Greg grabbed Vince’s wrist to keep him from throwing a punch at Blaise.

“I don’t understand why you guys are all so upset about Lockhart,” Tracey said loudly, giving Harry a sympathetic smile.  “I mean, his stories all seem exaggerated, but they’re well-written.”

“Mum used to read me some of them,” Greg added with an awkward shrug.  “I liked them better than the Harry Potter stories.  No offense, Harry.”

Draco snorted.  “Those Harry Potter travesties are garbage, but Lockhart’s aren’t any better.  At least the Potter ones are up front about being pure fiction.”

“I still haven’t read them,” Harry admitted.  “They kinda creep me out.”

“Some of Lockhart’s stories might be true,” Greg insisted.  “A lot of them make sense.”

“They are well-written,” Tracy reiterated.

“They’re well-written as individual tales up until you meet Lockhart in person and see what a walking disaster he is,” Draco said.  “A lot of the stories conflict with each other, though.  He can’t be in five places at once and he can’t even cast a simple shield charm to save his pathetic life.  I wouldn’t mind him if he was honest about being a fiction writer and not in a position of authority over us.  He is not a defence expert.”

“Maybe he has a time turner,” Theo drawled.  Harry could tell that he was egging Draco on more than actually defending Lockhart, but Draco took the bait.

“He’d have aged to the point of Dumbledore if he was jumping back in time that often!  And if he really is old and senile now, he still has no business teaching us.  He’s a pissing fraud.”

“He’s about to be a puddle of paste at the end of Snape’s wand,” Blaise said.

Harry couldn’t help but nod.

Professor Snape could defeat Lockhart one-handed, blinded, and asleep.

“Serves him right,” Draco grumbled in a way that made Harry uneasy.  He knew that Draco was wary of the man for more than being an incompetent liar.

Harry didn’t entirely disagree.

It made him uncomfortable whenever Lockhart tried to latch himself onto Harry’s fame or find camaraderie between them over both having delusional fans.

Fans that Lockhart seemed to love more than life itself.

But that didn’t make him evil, did it?

Harry couldn’t go his entire life afraid of every adult that was a little strange.

Just between Quirrell had tried to kill him… and The Dark Lord… and Uncle Vernon probably would try too if he thought he could get away with it… just because Harry had had some unfortunate encounters with people didn’t mean they were all bad.

Harry refused to believe that.

He refused to live like that.

All of his research into the reasons why wizards hated muggles and vice versa seemed to end in the same place… animosity born of fear.

It would make Harry smaller if he tried to force everyone else into boxes built of his own ignorance and lock them there forever, and Harry didn’t want to be small.

He wanted to be tall enough to look people in the eye as he shook their hands and took the measure of their characters.

He wanted to be cunning enough to be able to tell the difference between ineffectiveness, pettiness, and malevolence.

Or was he just being naïve?

“Hurry up, Harry!  I don’t want to miss a second of Lockhart’s downfall!” Draco called out gleefully.

Shaking off his thoughts, Harry hurried to catch up with his friends.

He could worry about complicated things later.  For now, he’d just watch the show, learn what he could, and take mental notes for how to run an officially sanctioned school club.

And probably notes for how not to, too.

Hopefully the Slytherins wouldn’t be placing bets on how quickly he would fail when he started his Potions Club.

Against his better judgement, he bet that Lockhart would be knocked unconscious by Professor Snape in forty-five seconds flat.

Chapter Text

Severus stalked the perimeter of the hall, watching students arrive in small groups and huddle together excitedly as they waited for the Duelling Club to begin.  He was anxious; keeping this many students with excitable temperaments and such a wide range of experience safe during active spell fire exercises was going to be difficult.

Especially with an idiot with an ego attempting to show off.

Severus was already mentally preparing himself to prioritize shielding bystanders over and above knocking the pompous walking disaster firmly on his arse.

This might very well be as close to teaching Defense that Dumbledore ever allowed him to come and Severus was not about to squander the opportunity by endangering students in favor of some petty grandstanding.  He would use this chance to impart as much knowledge to the next generation ad he could manage.

If the curse held true and Lockhart only lasted one year, perhaps Severus could leverage the Duelling Club to circumvent the curse and allow some proper, consistent defence education to actually take root in this infernal school once more.

Slytherins always loved a good loophole.

Harry’s class, as expected, arrived in a single large group.  Even the other Slytherins showed up in much larger groups than the average.

It had started with the full house early morning runs last year, arriving in the Great Hall as a unified presence, and that habit had spilled over into the snakes’ other migrations.

It was the kind of camaraderie that Severus had not seen within his house in years.

Perhaps ever.

And it was a public display as much as it was a private affair.

It had been incredibly helpful, as a matter of fact, in differentiating friendly rivalries from hateful bullying.  When his Slytherins knew that their members were having fun poking at members of another house, they stood back and allowed the instigators to fend for themselves.  When one of their own was attacked without cause, however, they were quick to rally around them and use the might of their collective presence to keep other houses in line.

Gryffindor, as the primary reciprocants of such mischief, had followed suit, albeit in a less organized manner.

As a result, the snide comments about muggleborns and death Eater wannabes had largely ceased, as well as the overall student visits to the infirmary.

The rivalry between Cassius Warrington and Adrian Pucey against Fred and George Weasley had continued on, stronger than ever, and with the added peer pressure to avoid unneeded collateral damage, had blossomed into a point of hilarity and pride between both houses.

“My, my,” Gilderoy said in that carefully pitched tone of voice that dozed with performative pride, “we seem to have gathered quite the crowd, haven’t we Severus?  Worry not if you catch a whiff of stage fright.  This is all in a day’s work for me, I’m afraid.  I can carry this burden for both of us if you become rattled.”

Severus was slightly worried that all this constant eye-rolling was going to detach his optic nerves.  Perhaps a preventative potion could be invented?

“I am certain I will manage,” he said, a shade too precisely to hammer home his disdain.

Gilderoy missed the connotations, but if the muffled snickering was anything to go by, his Slytherins had not.  Even some students from other houses were suppressing small smirks.

It still caught Severus off guard that he was not entirely hated by the Lions, Eagles, and Badgers this year.

“Professor Snape has a lot of practice performing under a spotlight,” the irritating young Mr. Smith drawled.  “I should think he can manage a handful of students just fine.”

“He’s never lost a fight to a doxy, either,” Finch-Fletchley snickered.

Merlin help him, even the Hufflepuffs were defending Severus’ honor and sassing a neutral teacher, now.

“They were Cornish pixies,” Gilderoy snapped, before seeming to realize what he’d just admitted to, “and there were a lot of them.”

“I just hope we can learn more than how to flail our arms around spastically,” one of the Weasley twins stage whispered.

The other twin provided an apt demonstration, causing the room to erupt into laughter.

Lockhart flushed scarlet and Severus swore he saw him stamp his foot in a mini-temper tantrum before he tossed his stupid hair and managed to regain a modicum of control.

“Yes, well, we’ve got a lot to cover today, and a demonstration from Professor Snape and I, as well!  How excited.  Best get to it, then.  Severus, if you would take your place.”

Catching Harry’s eye as he hopped onto the duelling platform, he winked, before turning his attention to Lockhart and adopting a relaxed, bored posture.

Harry, bless him, looked conflicted about what was about to happen.  He did not appear worried for Severus’ safety however, nor judgemental as if he believed Severus was acting the bully, so he decided to take it.  Leave it to Lily’s son to find an obscure moral high ground on which to cling.

Severus would make sure that Gilderoy suffered no long-lasting debilitation or injury.

There was no need to traumatize the preteens in the audience just to prove a point or have some well-deserved fun.

If this was a seventh-year defence class, Severus might not be so gracious.

As Severus bowed stiffly, Lockhart gave a ridiculous flourish that left himself wide open.  It was technically legal to attack one’s opponent the moment after they reached the lowest point in their bow, but it was considered unsportsmanlike.

Gilderoy had left himself wide open for attack, too caught up in grandstanding for the crowd.

Not wanting to leave any wiggle room for the golden peacock to claim that his defeat was a result of Severus’ cheating or underhanded ‘Slytherin’ tactics, but equally wanted to impress upon the students the importance of keeping one’s guard up in any fight, Severus hit Lockhart with a harmless spell that dyed his gaudy robes a nauseating greenish brown directly where the spell had struck.

Lockhart didn’t notice; the students closest to the stage did.

Snickers and suppressed giggles rippled out from the dueling platform as more and more students caught on.

Lockhart frowned, glancing around to pinpoint the cause of such repressed mirth.

Severus struck.

Caught up in the spirit of his first attack, Severus hit Lockhart with a volley of non-lethal, non-debilitating spells, ending with a simple tripping jinx.

Lockhart stumbled to his knees, his own theatrical confundus spell flying wide.

Severus took advantage of his opponent’s bowed back to discolor more sections of the man’s robes.

Soon, the cloth covering every vital area on the man’s body was a grotesque rainbow of putrefaction.

The daft bastard still had not noticed, laughing off Severus’ tripping jinx as if he had allowed it to land on purpose.

Severus toyed with the idiot for a few more exchanges before casting a decisive expelliarmus.

“Yes… well done, Professor Snape.  Bravely fought, I daresay.  Mind you, if this was not for demonstration purposes and slowed down so the students could follow, this might have turned out very differently.”

Ignoring Lockhart entirely, Severus turned to the crowd, looking student after student directly in the eye.  “What did everyone learn from this demonstration?”

“Not to mess with you, Sir,” Mr. Warrington said with a cheeky bow.

Severus allowed himself a slight smirk and gave a minute bow in return.  “Very astute, Mr. Warrington.  Anyone else?”

Chapter Text

Draco revelled as the crowd’s energy turned predatory.

Student after student raised their hands to point out all of the ways that Professor Snape had wiped the floor with Lockhart and how Lockhart had failed to even notice.

Soon Lockhart was red as a tomato and shaking with rage.

“Yes, yes, as I was saying, this was all done for demonstration purposes.  Now, I bet my very first printed copy of ‘Werewolves of Baskerville’ that you would all rather get to practicing duelling for yourselves than standing around talking about your boring old professors, am I right or am I right?

“Perhaps we could have a couple of students give it a go in front of everyone before we break into pairs, yes?  Who’d like to volunteer?  Mr. Potter?  I’m sure you’re dying to show your fans what you’re made of.”

“Not really,” Harry murmured testily, bristling as Lockhart invaded his personal space.

“I’ll go!” Draco volunteered loudly, waving his hand and attempting to step between the two of them.

“Very good,” Lockhart said with a painfully fake chuckle, grabbing Harry’s arm from around Draco and dragging him onto the stage while Draco scrambled to follow.

He glared at Lockhart and pointedly grabbed the professor’s wrist to remove it from Harry’s person, even as Harry squared his shoulders and hissed, “Don’t ever touch me without my permission.”

Lockhart blanched and twisted away from Harry and Draco’s scrutiny to face the crowd.

“Let’s see of these two star-crossed lovers have what it takes to fight a proper duel, shall we?”

“Ew,” Draco muttered under his breath while Harry rolled his eyes.

Snape stepped up between them.  “Stay focused,” he instructed calmly, “and focus on defence.  I am well aware of how much sparring goes on in your common room, so I trust you’ve both already honed some instincts.  Don’t let that idiot goad you into doing something rash.”

“Are there any rules we should know about?” Harry asked.

“No attacking until both of you have bowed.  Stay on the platform.  No harmful spells.  And stand down as soon as I call it.  You’ll be fine, Harry.  Show Lockhart what you’ve got.”

Draco extended his hand for Harry to shake, a muggle show of sportsmanship that Draco had witnessed from Piers over the summer.  “Scared, Potter?” he asked teasingly.

Harry grinned in response.  “You wish.”

As Draco moved to his end of the platform, he could feel the anticipation from their audience rising.

It surprised Draco that so many students, particularly the older ones, would care about what two second years could do, but he supposed it shouldn’t.

One of them was The Boy Who Lived, after all.

And Harry wasn’t one for flexing his magic outside of the Slytherin dorms or class.

Everyone wanted to see if the boy lived up to the legend.

“You got this Harry!” one of the Weasley twins called out, shooting Draco a wink.  “Wipe the floor with Malfoy’s arse!”

Several students snorted at the phrasing, making the smirks on both twins’ faces grow wider.

“You want me to take you on next?” Draco shot back, laughing.

Both twins beamed with mischievous glee, making Draco regret his impulsively brazen challenge.

Fred and George Weasley always came as a matched set and were not afraid to play dirty.

Harry first.

Clearing his mind, Draco took a deep breath and centered himself like he’d learned over the summer.

It took Draco a moment to realize that both he and Harry had adopted the bow they’d learned in karate class, rather than the standard wizard version.  The small twitch of Harry’s lips prove that he’d noticed it, too.

They were in their own little world after that, a cozy little amalgamation of sparring in the Slytherin Heir’s room and training in the muggle dojo; no audience, no prat of a professor, and no pressure holding them back.

It was just a game between friends, a familiar competition to outdo one another and try something new.

Neither of them had Professor Snape’s precision and accuracy in their attacks nor Lockhart’s obsession with theatrics, but they knew each other well enough to predict each other’s next moves as often as not, and plenty of practice at staying balanced, mindful, and ready to strike.

Sometimes their pronunciation under pressure was a little clumsy, and sometimes their movements weren’t as smooth as they were in class, but none of that really mattered.

They were having fun.

Draco soon found it frustrating that the duelling arena was so narrow.  He was ducking and dodging as best as he could, but the edges of the stage kept getting in the way.

He was used to a lot of their wand sparring happening on their brooms with three full axes of movement available to them, and they always made use of a lot of the mat at the dojo too.

It felt like being trapped in a hallway, constrained and claustrophobic, despite the large room around them, but it was a challenge that was forcing Draco to be creative.

He and Harry were both using distance to vary the cadence of the fight.

They would close the gap between themselves, integrating hand-to-hand strikes in between casting before backing away again and sending volleys of admittedly sloppy spells at one another.

By the time Harry caught a lucky shot and hit Draco with a cheeky expelliarmus, Draco could feel the heat flushing his cheeks while his ribs ached from breathing in a way they hadn’t since he’d started running with Harry every morning early last year.

He fairly collapsed against Harry’s shoulder and clumsily grabbed his friend’s hand to give it a final shake.

Harry, thankfully for Draco’s dignity, seemed equally worn out.

As they caught their breaths, it slowly dawned on Draco that the whole room was staring at them and whispering fiercely.

It was Neville of all people who broke the silence.  “How did you guys learn to do that?”

Around his shy Gryffindor friend, other students nodded along.

Draco blinked and looked to Professor Snape, who also looked rather gobsmacked.  “Sir?  What did we do?  Why’s everyone staring?”

Professor Snape cleared his throat.  “Most wizarding duelists, especially those trained in the European or North American styles, have a tendency to forego complicated footwork and hand-to-hand elements in favor of pure magical strength and ingenuity.  What you and Mr. Potter just demonstrated looked closer to an Eastern style of dueling than anything I’ve witnessed in several years, albeit less structured, and not pertaining to any one school.  Very impressive, Gentlemen, and a lesson to the rest of you that creativity and movement can be powerful allies in a fight.  Note the stamina that both combatants displayed throughout the duration.  This style would not have worked had either of them been out of shape.  Conditioning, discipline, and repetition were all clearly on display just now.  The body must be honed just as much as one’s magic; only a fool disregards one in favor of the other.”

“Sir?  Was everything they did legal, then?  I’ve never read of martial arts being allowed in a proper wizard’s duel,” Granger asked insistently.

Draco could hear Professor Snape’s eyes rolling as he answered.  “They were well within the parameters of the rules laid out for them today, Miss Granger, and I remind you that I mentioned the existence of many different wizarding dueling schools.  What is legal in one might not be legal in another.  At the end of the day, I advice you all to learn to adapt and to expect the unexpected.  In life, not everyone follows the rules.  You may one day find yourself in a fight against one who will not deign to fight fair.  Remember that.”

Harry nudged Draco’s shoulder and beamed at him with pride.  “Morning runs were your idea, remember?”

Were they?  Draco distinctly remembered Harry dragging Draco’s disgruntled and bleary-eyed form out of bed morning after morning until the routine had finally settled.

“Never would have tried karate without you, either,” Draco said instead, as Granger began grilling Professor Snape on why there were no books on Eastern duelling schools in the duelling section of the Hogwarts library.

“The way you dropped into that one roll was totally something you learned from skateboarding,” Harry giggled.  “I thought you were going to faceplant all over again.”

“Ha ha.  We did pretty good, didn’t we?”

Harry grinned.  “I think I like duelling club better than I thought I would.”

Chapter Text

Remus took a delicate sip from his stout afternoon tea as he contemplated how strange life had become.

James’ son was a popular and celebrated Slytherin, Severus Snape was a hero and celebrity to the entire school, and Albus Dumbledore, the man who had chastised James and Sirius with his damned twinkling eye about the merits of inter-house cooperation and giving people a chance to prove themselves on their own merits, did not seem happy about it.

Why was Remus even here?

He had looked into what had transpired at Hogwarts last year and Severus was right; he had saved Harry’s life and Slytherin had rallied around both of them.

Harry looked happy and healthy and supported.  He was a sweet kid, too.  Stubborn when it mattered, with an admirable balance of justice and empathy.

He was doing just fine.

Severus was doing just fine too, he had to admit.  A petty little part of him insisted that it was unfair that the Marauder’s greatest rival had pulled through both Hogwarts and the war with so much dignity intact while all of Remus’ friends were either dead or ruined.

Torn apart by one single, inexplicable act of brutal betrayal.

Why hadn’t Black come for Remus before poor Peter?  It would have been easier to be dead and done with it than to be forced to languish on alone, packless, friendless, abandoned.

Why hadn’t Snape been turned against and left to rot, instead?

He had been a Dark Arts obsessed Death Eater, for Merlin’s sake, and yet Dumbledore had vouched for him, his Death Eater friends had never tried to murder him, and he was now a respected and venerated member of society.

But then again, Severus had been a bullied kid who had almost been killed by Remus himself due to Sirius’ petty antics.  It was kind of nice to have such a successful reformation story for children to look up to.

The Severus of fifteen years ago would have burned with envy for the accolades the Severus of today had justly earned.

Surely there were scorned, troubled, and abandoned youth within the school at this very moment who might look upon Severus’ success and decide to choose a pro-social course to achieve a greatness of their own, rather than falling for the allure of easy, Vengeful darkness.

So why wasn’t the headmaster overjoyed that Harry and everyone else had such an inspiring role model?

Severus Snape was a hero.

And Remus was certain that he had been brought to Hogwarts to introduce a wedge in between the man and James’ son.

Lily’s son.

It made no sense.

The entire student body was enthralled by the way Severus had reportedly trounced Gilderoy in their little duelling club.  Remus had been concerned at first that perhaps Severus had gone too far and injured the other man or demonstrated some dark spells or something, anything else to justify Remus’ position as groundskeeper this year, but it had been nothing like that.  Several students had enthusiastically described exactly how Severus had harmlessly changed the color of Gilderoy’s robes over every vital weakness he had left exposed to make his point.

It was an ingenious bit of harmless fun and had indeed resonated with the students.

It was a perfect way of demonstrating that fancy spells were no match for simple, subtle aim.

Gilderoy had not even known the spells had been fired, let alone landed.

Constant vigilance as Mad-Eye would say.

Remus was begrudgingly impressed.

Rummaging through his meager possessions, Remus dug out a sealed bottle of Ogden’s finest.  He needed a peace offering if he was going to learn the truth.

And perhaps a small miracle to keep Severus from hexing him on sight.

Remus furrowed his brow as he stared down at the modest vintage.  It was a poor gift to make up for years of animosity.

He knew better than to feign innocence in that he’d never been the instigator, either.  He had been there, complicit.

Heartfelt apologies seemed like the kind of thing to be lost on Severus, too, but for Harry’s sake, it was worth a try.

Taking an extra moment to straighten his shabby robes, Remus glamoured his bottle of booze to look like an empty potions bottle and headed down to the dungeons.

Merlin, he hadn’t even double-checked Severus’ office hours.

This was an idiotic, impulsive mistake, wasn’t it?

James would want him to do whatever it took to make Harry’s life easier and safer, though.  Even if his attempts made him look like an absolute dunderhead.

Sirius would want… well, Remus didn’t give a hot damn about what that miserable traitor would want.  Black had made his choice.

Even if that choice still made Remus’ heart ache every time that he thought about it.

Steeling himself, he knocked against Severus’ office door.

“Enter,” came the stiff reply.

With clammy hands, Remus cracked the door open.  “Hello, Severus.  Do you have a moment to talk?”

Severus huffed.  “I’m busy, Lupin.  What do you want?”

“I had hoped to speak with you about Harry.  Or, listen to you about him, perhaps.  If you’re willing.  I trust your judgement with him.”

“Very well, Lupin.  Come in and shut the door behind you.”

Remus complied awkwardly, shuffling forward and thrusting the fire whiskey into Severus’ hands.  Severus raised an eyebrow at the gift.

“Oh, right,” Remus said, blushing as he de-glamoured the bottle.  “I did not think it prudent to allow the students to see me carrying alcohol around on a school night.  We don’t have to drink it now, if you don’t want; it’s a gift.  For you.”

Severus smirked and set the bottle aside.  “Obviously.  What’s all this about, Lupin?”

“Right.  I’ve thought a lot about what you’ve said.  Harry trusts you, implicitly, and from everything that I’ve ascertained, that trust is not misplaced.”

“How generous.”

“I’m not finished.  Please.  I regret not being active in Harry’s life earlier, but I’m here now, and I want to help.  He’s a good kid.  He’s doing well.  I don’t want to pull him in another direction or complicate things for him by dragging our pasts into his present.”

“I still do not understand what you want from me.”

Remus ran a restless hand through his hair and blew out a heavy puff of air.  “I’m just confused.  Harry went through some traumatic things last year and you protected him admirably.  You helped him better than I think I could have managed in your place.”

Severus rolled his eyes.  “Merlin, you must have a big ask if you’re willing to kiss my arse this hard.”

“It’s not that,” Remus insisted, frustrated that he could not find the right words to just get his concerns out in the open.  “It’s Dumbledore.”

“You lost me.”

“Why did Dumbledore hire me this year?”

“Because the last idiot who held the position got himself arrested.”

“He could have hired anybody.  Why risk hiring a werewolf to a school when he’s already under scrutiny, if not to connect with Harry?”

“Well, if you already know…”

“Dumbledore isn’t happy that Harry is happy in Slytherin.  Why?”

Severus laughed, full bodied and rich.  “Please do not tell me our illustrious headmaster’s bias against my house is news to you, Lupin.  No one is that daft.”

“Is that really all this is?  Bringing me here isn’t going to get Harry randomly resorted.  There has to be more than that.”

Severus leaned back in his chair and gave Remus a long, hard look.  “I have my suspicions.  Are you sure you want to know?”

Remus scooted closer to the edge of his chair.  “Please, Severus.”

“Very well.  But I am warning you, Wolf, if you go around spreading rumors of my concerns to anyone I will retaliate.”

“I won’t,” Remus promised quickly.  “Who would I even tell?”

Severus looked at him as if he were an idiot.

“You… you’re worried I’ll tell Dumbledore?”

Running a finger along the edge of his desk, Severus held Remus’ eye.  “Will you?”

“No!  Not if you don’t want me to.  Not… not unless Harry’s safety is at stake.”

Severus frowned and pulled back.  “He is trapped in Slytherin…”

“I don’t care about that!” Remus snapped.  “He’s safe there, safe with you.  I’m not stupid enough to try to pry a cub from his pack.  Not without a damned good reason.  What are your suspicions?”

“Did you ever hear the details of what I faced when I confronted Quirrell and the Dark Lord last year?”

“I heard rumors… I’m not sure how accurate they were.  Why?”

“I left with the distinct impression that Albus had intentionally tried to lure Harry into protecting the stone, himself.”

“WHAT?!  To what end?”

“To test his character,” Severus replied flatly.  “And to condition him to take similar actions in the future.”

“That… no.  That doesn’t make any sense.”

“You’re not ready to hear this.”

“It’s madness!”

“Get out, Lupin.”

“No!  No, I’m sorry, please… I’ll hear you out.  I will.  But you have to admit that it sounds farfetched.  Harry’s just a child.”

“He’s a figurehead.  He’s the symbol of the bloody resistance against The Dark Lord, and not only had Harry stubbornly refused to throw himself into danger in some self-righteous venture to keep everyone else safe, but he has shown a healthy, thriving sense of self-preservation.

“More than that, though, he is reaching out to the children of Death Eaters.  Talking to them.  Reasoning with them.  Compromising.  He’s best friends with a Malfoy, for Merlin’s sake!  If The Dark Lord returned tomorrow and called his followers to war, Harry would be very reluctant to raise banners against him.  Harry would want to negotiate for peace, at the very least.

“The Dark Lord would take advantage of that.  Dumbledore will have difficulty rallying people without the Boy Who Lived leading the charge.”

“He’s twelve.”

“He was a baby when all this started.”

“So what?  You think Dumbledore brought me here to convince Harry to act more Gryffindor?”

“Precisely.  Everyone that Harry currently looks up to is a Slytherin, through and through.  Weigh options, consider risks, play the long game; want something for yourself.

“I’ve told Harry stories about his mother, but I have been very open about the fact that his father and I never got along.  I have done my best not to disparage the man in front of his son, but I have hardly glamorized a life of bold theatrics and reckless pranks, either.  I have never pushed Harry to consider taking up the fight against The Dark Lord for himself, nor to become an Auror like his dad, nor to bypass adult authority to go on idiotic grand adventures in the name of fun.”

“I… I will need to think on this,” Remus admitted.  “It’s a lot.”

“Indeed, it is,” Snape said dismissively, as if already convinced that Remus would discard everything he’d said.  It made him more determined to ponder it fully.

Albus allowed Harry to grow up in a home that hated magic.

He must have been so relieved and grateful to discover a world in which he belonged.

Grateful enough to fight for it?  To die for it?

No.

No, surely it would never come to that.

Surely, Albus would never allow it to come to that.

Remus glanced at Severus as he hastily stood.  “I should go.  I will think on this, I promise.  I… enjoy the whiskey.”

“Oh, I shall,” Severus drawled, his black eyes glittering with contempt.  “Do try to schedule your next interrogation in advance, would you?  I seem to have stumbled into running a duelling club since its founder went into hiding.”

Remus smiled softly.  “I heard you trounced him.”

Severus smirked back.  “Indeed, I did.”

Chapter Text

Harry was a nervous wreck as he spread out his notes and read through the Potions club sign up sheet one final time.  There was more interest than he had expected there to be, but now that Uncle Sev had taken the reins of the Duelling Club, he supposed he shouldn’t be surprised.

No pressure.

Harry knew that he couldn’t make his club as flashy or fun as duelling and that it would be dangerous to try.  He’d just have to rum this first meeting the way he and Professor Snape had outlined as their go-to meeting template and see who decided to stick around.

It would be embarrassing if everyone ditched after a week or two, but Harry’d get over it.  He was used to being an outcast at muggle primary school anyways.

It wouldn’t be so bad.

He perked up when Draco was the first one to enter the room; he’d always have a friend, no matter what happened in his extra curriculars.

Adrian and Cass were the next to arrive, Cass shooting Harry a wink as he began setting up his cauldron.  Miles and Marcus soon followed.

It was nice that so much of the Slytherin quidditch team were taking the time to check his little club out.

And then members of all houses started showing up; Fred and George, Finch-Fetchley and Smith, Granger, Corner, and Luna.  Vince and Greg arrived with Blaise and Daphne.  And a lot of older students whose names Harry didn’t know.  Even Neville showed.

It was overwhelming.

And, Harry had to admit, pretty cool.

“Hi, everyone,” he said a little shakily.  “If you could all take your seats, I’d like to get started.”

For a gut-wrenching moment, no one moved, and then Marcus cleared his throat loudly.  “Sure thing, Harry.”

“Thanks, Captain,” Harry said as everyone else lazily followed suit.  “Alright, everyone.  I’m afraid I don’t have a professor to beat up for your amusement to kick things off, but I’ll do my best to not be too boring as I explain what this club will be all about.

“First off, it was a condition of starting this club that people of all houses and skill levels be accepted, so no drama, okay? 

“Each meeting will start out with a discussion point.  We’ll start at the basics and then build up the conversation to some higher-level complexities.

“After that, we’ll split into groups of those who would like tutoring help, those who want to focus on their own homework, and those who can offer tutoring help.  If you don’t offer tutoring help, you won’t be able to participate in the competitions at the end, so keep that in mind.

“And on that note, each meeting will end with an advanced discussion and competition for those who are eligible.  We’ll pick a high level potion, discuss the principles behind the brewing techniques and the properties of the ingredients, and then we’ll hold a competition to see who can create the most effective and useful derivative of the potion, due at the next meeting.

“While the advanced stuff is going on, everyone else can continue with homework or practice brewing potions from their own year’s assigned text book.  The advanced group will help to keep an eye on those brews while we talk, to make sure everyone stays safe.

“Professor Snape will be here in case of an emergency but is up to us to keep each other safe and drive discussions.

“Any questions?”

“Yeah,” one of the older Ravenclaws that Harry didn’t know said.  “What makes you think a little second year like you deserves to be in the advanced group?”

Harry flushed.  “Well… er…”

“Test him,” Severus drawled from the corner of the room where he was grading papers while nominally supervising.  “I have full confidence him his ability to lead this club, but if you disagree with my assessment, pay attention to what he says during the advanced discussion and keep track of his mistakes.  Evaluate the potion he enters for the first competition.  When he embarrasses you on both counts though, do refrain from lashing out at him.  I will not stand for bullying.  Carry on, Mr. Potter.”

“Yes, Sir,” Harry said weakly, scrambling to organize his thoughts.  “I know I’m not perfect at potions, and I still have a lot to learn on the subject, but as Professor Snape said, I am willing to prove myself.”

“Within reason,” Draco interjected sternly.  “This isn’t a bloody muggle inquisition.”

“So, er… does anyone else have any questions or should we get started?”

“Get on with it!” one of the Weasley twins called out cheerfully from the back.

“No one cares about the fragile egos of Ravenclaws,” the other twin added.

“Right,” Harry said quickly.  “Moving on, then.  “Our opening topic today is about how to identify if ingredients will react volatilely against one another or if they’ll cancel each other out.  We’ll start with immediate reactions and if we run out of time, we’ll cover delayed reactions next week.”

The discussion went well enough, delving into an overview of how some magical properties were fundamentally incompatible while other ingredients were only immediately volatile if stored or prepared incorrectly.

Granger had not stopped taking notes the entire time.  She would lucky if they made it to thirty without developing arthritis in her hands at the rate she was going.

She asked a lot of follow up questions, too, which the one hand was nice because she was engaged in the material, but on the other hand was driving Harry crazy.

Especially when she kept asking him to cite his sources.

Harry had learned most of this stuff by logical deduction and cross-referencing his notes on every potion in his textbooks and that they went over in class.  He explained his methodology to the club, and several older students confirmed that they had read his findings at some point over their years of study, but Harry did not have books, authors, or bloody page numbers at hand to validate everything he’d learned.

In his experience, knowledge stuck better if it was learned intuitively rather than read as abstract theory and memorized in large chunks; names and dates had never been his strong point.

Granger seemed offended by that.

“I just don’t see how you can teach this stuff to others if you don’t know whether you’re right or not.  How can you tell of you’ve made a lucky guess, understood things correctly, or formed false connections from your limited data set?  The experts are experts for a reason.”

“That’s an elitist and restrictive way of looking at knowledge,” Harry said hotly.  “What if one of those experts you admire so much is the one to make a mistake?  If everyone else just blindly follows them, the mistake will be taken as law.  New ways of thinking or radical new discoveries will never happen if everyone in the field is stuck carefully treading the exact same path as the people who came before.”

“Throwing random ingredients together is more likely to get people hurt than lead to a breakthrough.  It’s not only a waste of time to reinvent the wheel when the knowledge of generations is right there, it’s dangerous and stupid.”

“As fascinating as this philosophical debate is, it has veered rather far from the potions discussion it was meant to be,” Snape drawled.  “Granger, do feel free to fact check everything Mr. Potter has shared today and bring your independently vetted findings to the next meeting.”

“Let’s start with the tutoring, then,” Harry said gratefully.  He didn’t know how Professor Snape managed to keep his sanity as a professor.  He was exhausted already!  “Everyone who is willing to tutor sign this sheet here, keeping in mind that if you don’t sign, you can’t join the advance group this week.

“If you would like a tutor to help you with something, move to this side of the room, and if you just want to work on homework, move to that side.

“I’ll assign the tutors for this week, but if you have something specific you’d like ongoing help with, pass me a note with details and I’ll try to match you with a specialized tutor moving forward.  Er… go?”

The classroom burst into a flurry of motion as everyone rearranged themselves into their desired groups.

Harry was happy to see that he had more people willing to offer tutoring than those who needed it.  He’d been worried about that.

He did his best to pair people up with people they wouldn’t normally work with, but also people who they weren’t likely to fight with right away, but he cheated on that principle a little bit by assigning himself as Neville’s tutor.

Him and Neville got along well and Neville’s encyclopaedic knowledge of Herbology made Potions conversations with him really interesting.

He decided it was alright to be selfish and give himself a perk of leadership just this once.

Plus, talking with Neville would help distract him from the gnawing worry that the advanced portion of this meeting was going to be a disaster.

Chapter Text

Severus bit back his foolish pride as he watched Lily’s son navigate a leadership position over a group of largely older and more experienced students with courage and carefully cultivated knowledge.  The fact that it was potions knowledge was just the cherry on top of Harry’s achievement.

The tutoring itself was having mixed results.  The prefects in the group had taken to it seamlessly, but some of the other older students were using it as a thinly veiled excuse to joke with their friends, and the more impressionable young ones were starting to follow suit.

Thus far, they were not disrupting those intent on learning, so Severus was content to let it slide until Harry indicated that he needed help reigning it in.

Some of the tutors were struggling to explain concepts in an accessible manner, too.  Justin Finch-Fetchley looked about to strangle Granger as she lectured at him and Theo Nott had just shrugged more than once after explaining something in a single way had not instantaneously landed.

Messer’s Warrington, Pucey, and the Weasley twins were all surprisingly well behaved, making Severus even more suspicious of the whispered advice they were giving out.  He would have to keep a close eye on the infirmary I’m the coming weeks.

Longbottom had already been improving in Potions since taking up with Harry and Draco, much to Severus’ conflicted chagrin, and seemed to be in the middle of a theoretical discussion regarding the age and moisture level of belladonna leaves and the potential effects such variables could have on potions.

Severus still wished that Harry had chosen anyone other than the child he had attempted to offer up to the Dark Lord in Harry’s stead as a friend but he supposed that Lady Karma truly was a cold-hearted bitch with an unhealthy affection for irony.

As much as Severus disliked Lucius Malfoy's continued influence over Harry’s life, the boy had clearly picked up some of Lucius’ knack for acquiring strategic allies, leadership, and oratory skills.

Harry had the makings of a potions master and a politician, and that was a rare and potent combination.

If Harry stayed the course, he would have a nearly unprecedented aptitude and opportunity to cut through bureaucratic red tape when presenting new potions recipes to the world.

It would be a heavy responsibility, the ability to side-step unnecessary extra paperwork and critical safety considerations in equal measure, based on the weight of his fame and his personality alone.

But Severus was getting ahead of himself; the boy was not locked into a single career path.  A bounty of opportunity lay before his feet, and Severus was determined to keep it that way.

“Okay everyone,” Harry said haltingly.   “It’s time for the advanced study group.  Everyone else is free to stay here to keep studying independently or in groups or to leave early, but if you’re going to stay, please stay on subject and try not to disturb those around you.”

Nodding encouragingly when Harry caught his eye,  Severus surreptitiously moved his chair closer to where the advanced group was gathering to more efficiently eavesdrop.

He was quite curious as to what this particular group of students could uncover together, with their chaotic mix of madness, genius, and willfulness.

“Aren’t you coming, Nev?” Malfoy asked when Longbottom made no attempt to join the advanced group.

“We could sure use the input of a herbologist if you don’t mind,” Harry chimed in with a big, welcoming smile.

It was still jarring to see Slytherins and Gryffindors so openly accepting of each other.  Severus’ heart ached as buried memories threatened to break through his mental walls.

Oh, Lily…you would be so very proud of your son.

The advanced discussion started a little slow and meandering as everyone found their footing and thought through ideas to contribute.

Granger was still visibly frustrated from earlier and was struggling to add her two knuts to the conversation now that she was surrounded by older and more knowledgeable students who had more experience with the intuitive and logical deduction needed for altering or inventing recipes.

It would be interesting to see how she adjusted to being a small fish in a big pond, as it were.

Harry, on the other hand, had no issues asking clarifying and follow-up questions from his older peers in a way that encouraged discussion rather than shut it down.

He had the makings of a fabulous teacher…. Far better than Severus himself.

It was also interesting to witness the Weasley twins bond with their uptight older brother in real time.  It seemed that their differences in relation to the importance of rules and mischief had kept them from truly acknowledging the cleverness of the other.  The way they were delightedly bouncing suggestions back and forth as if they’d each just discovered a long-lost cousin with an instant bond rather than conversing with siblings they’d known all their lives was rather tragic.

It made Severus think of Regulus and his unfortunate relationship with his prick of an older brother.  And now the cunning but cowardly one was dead far too young, and the obstinately self-righteous one was rightfully languishing away in prison.

Everyone, even their own parents likely, would have predicted that it be the other way around.

What a waste.

As a teenager, Severus would have to killed to have a family and accompanying perks like the Ancient and Noble House of Black.  He had been confident that he would have accomplished great things with so much privilege.

Now, seeing how he had allowed his considerable skills to go largely to waste after allowing them to be used for ill, Severus was almost grateful that he had not had farther to fall.

He would need to make sure that Harry did not suffer a similar fate, as a famous star such as him would surely hit terminal velocity on the way down.

Severus watched his older Slytherins closely for any sign of disruption, manipulation, or any other sign that they were planning to hurt Harry or to use him for their own ends.

The most virulent blood purists had pointedly not bothered to attend this little club, but the truly dangerous snakes were the ones adept at disguise.

Like Lucius Bloody Malfoy.

Severus did not like thinking of his own house as the enemy, but whispers of The Dark Lord’s survival and involvement at Hogwarts had started to leak out into the Old Crowd, and while the specifics of that involvement or in Severus’ own role in stopping it, had not yet been brought to light, it had stirred a quiet, nervous fervor amongst the Death Eaters who had disguised themselves to escape justice.

Draco laughed loudly at something one of the Weasley twins had said, nudging Harry’s side until he relaxed enough to chuckle along.

How much had Lucius heard?  What did he think about the Dark Lord being in such close physical proximity to his son, last year?  Would he instinctually seek ways to turn away from his Master to keep his son free or would he double down on his support in a bid to keep the boy alive and protected?

What would the man do once he realized that Severus had betrayed the Dark Lord and was actively choosing to protect Harry Potter above all others?

What would Severus do once Lucius Malfoy made his move?

How could he possibly keep Harry safe and innocent in the midst of such a betrayal?

Merlin, he never should have allowed the Malfoy family anywhere near the boy.

…No matter how good of a friend young Draco had revealed himself to be.

It was all temporary.

Peace was temporary.

There was a war brewing, and Severus had no idea how to defend against it.

He was stuck in an open field without cover, with armies amassing on all sides.

Suddenly, Harry’s burgeoning leadership qualities seemed more dangerous than hopeful.

Everyone was going to look to him to lead them, weren’t they?

How could Severus possibly prepare Harry for a burden such as that?

It was inevitable, it seemed, that they would both end up with more blood on their hands, and that made Severus feel incredibly helpless.

And old.

Chapter Text

Harry was quickly realizing just how exhausting it was to be involved in so many things.  Whenever he wasn’t working on his Potions Club entry with Draco and Neville or planning the next meeting, he was at official or unofficial quidditch practice with the team, and whenever he wasn’t on a broom, he was going to the duelling club that Uncle Sev had totally co-opted for himself.

That was on top of classes and homework, morning house runs, and hanging out with his friends and sometimes Harry’s head started spinning with all of it and he just wanted to find a small dark hole to go hide in and breathe.

Harry had been embarrassed and apologetic when he had asked the snake figurines outside the Heir’s Room for a small cupboard with a cozy chair and a window into the lake that no one else could enter or see, afraid that Slytherin’s magic would deem him selfish and unworthy, after all.

He still did not know what to make of the snakes’ gentle, philosophical response that all good leaders need a retreat to recharge their mind, body, and magic.

Sure, he was running the potions club, but that didn’t really make him much of a leader.  That was just for fun, and Professor Snape was always there, making sure nothing went wonky.

Now, sitting in a squashy chair with a thick, plush blanket wrapped around his shoulders, and staring through the underwater window at how the distant light cut through the ebbs of the lake’s murky waters, Harry felt a little silly for requesting a cupboard rather than a proper room, but he did not truly regret it.

He swore he could feel the castle’s protective magic extra strongly in this little hideaway.  It made him feel relaxed, rejuvenated, and content.

The heir magic had even arranged for Lofty to drop off a piping hot cup of tea for him without him even asking.

He should have known that it was too peaceful to last.

‘Pardon us, Little Heir,’ the serpentine adornments framing the window hissed, ‘but your Head of House is asking after you.  He has requested your presence in his office.’

Sighing, Harry set down the rest of his tea and carefully folded the blanket that he was pretty sure was the softest thing he had ever felt in his entire life.

‘Will this space still be here for me when I get back?’

‘Always, Little Heir.  We would not keep your retreat from you.’

‘Ersss… thanks.’

The echo of the snakes’ hissing chuckles followed Harry out into the common room.

“There you are!” Draco said.  “Professor Snape was looking for you and I was thinking we could practice that one crossover play again later?”

“The one that gives Marcus a heart attack everything we try it?” Harry asked, grinning and forcing himself to bounce up onto his toes to get his blood pumping again.

“You know it.  Where were you, anyways?”

Harry shrugged evasively.  “Just thinking somewhere quiet.  I shouldn’t keep Professor Snape waiting.”

Draco rolled his eyes.  “Teacher’s Pet.  Meet you on the Heir’s Pitch at seven?”

“Sure.”

Rubbing absently at his eyes, Harry almost walked straight past Professor Snape’s office.

He should have finished his tea.  It had been nice and strong.

“Enter,” Professor Snape said when Harry knocked.

“You asked for me, Sir?” Harry asked as he slipped inside.

“I did.  Have a seat, Harry.  You look tired.”

Harry didn’t bother arguing ad he slumped into a chair and stifled a yawn.  “Did I do something wrong?”

“Not at all,” Professor Snape said kindly, “I merely thought you deserved an update to our little project.  I had a meeting with young Mr. Goyle this morning.”

Perking up, Harry leaned forward in his seat as his leg bounced excitedly.  “Did you finish the potion?”

Uncle Sev smiled.  “I did.  Bare in mind that this is still experimental.  I may need to tweak it through several more iterations before it is fully effective, but I believe that Mr. Goyle should experience some measure of relief from the symptoms of his dyslexia right away.”

Happiness swelled in Harry’s chest, followed quickly by a clenching anxiety.  “Was he upset that we tried to help him behind his back?”

“He was embarrassed that I had noticed.  I suspect that he expected to be shamed.  I did mention to him that you brought the suggestion to me, and it is possible that he will give you the cold shoulder for a time, but I do not believe that this will negatively impact your friendship in the long-term.”

“Oh.  Right.”

“Are you upset that I named you?  I believed you deserved credit for being a kind and attentive friend.”

“No.  No, it’s not that.  I’m just a little tired, is all.  I’ve got a lot going on.”

“Too much?”

Panic tore through Harry.  “No!  Well… maybe.  I dunno.”

Please don’t take anything away from me.

Snape gave Harry a scrutinizing look.  “Potions Club does not have to meet every week, you realize.  There is no shame in shifting your schedule to something reasonable and achievable.  I do not want your schoolwork to suffer on behalf of your extra-curriculars.”

“It won’t,” Harry jumped to promise.  “I can manage.”

“Take care of yourself, Harry.  It is okay to say no when you need to.”

Harry huffed and crossed his arms belligerently. “I’m not a baby, you know.”

“No, you are an incredibly ambitious young man with a lot of external pressure on you at all times.  No human being has the power, the time, nor the mental capacity to please everybody, all of the time.”

“It’s not like I’m volunteering to help the house elves in the kitchens or do firsties’ homework for them or anything.  I’m allowed to have more than one hobby.”

“No one is disputing that, Potter.  Merlin, you are so tired that you are picking a fight with me over nothing more than a genuine expression of concern.”

“Am not,” Harry mumbled, a sheepish smile creeping onto his face at the end.  “Is it really that obvious?  Being tired is normal, isn’t it, when you have important things to do, and you want to do your best?”

“It is unsustainable.  If you do not choose a compromise, your body will do it for you.  Your mental acuity, reflexes, and even health will suffer if you push yourself too hard, for too long.  That will negatively impact all of your goals, will it not?”

“Maybe.”

“I am not asking you to give up on anything.  Just pace yourself and rest when you need it.  Remember that people care about you, and take care of yourself for our sakes, if not your own.”

“Yeah.”

“You are always welcome to come here, if you need an excuse to escape the obligations of your friends and peers for a while.”

That made Harry smile.  “Thanks, Sir.  I have a pretty good hiding spot already, though.”

“As you wish.”

“I think maybe I should go and take a nap.  Draco wants to go flying, later.”

“I am the very picture of surprise.  Try not to ruin your sleep tonight.  And try not to fall asleep on your broom and force me to come up with a reasonable explanation as to how you managed to get a high-grade concussion within your dorm.  I am officially unaware of our house’s advantage when it comes to quidditch practice access.” 

Harry grinned.  “I promise not to die in a way that would put you in an awkward situation.”

“See that you don’t.  Get out of here, you menace.”

Giving a cheeky thumbs up, Harry left with a bounce in his step.

Time for a nap.

Chapter Text

Draco was conflicted about everything that was going on in Slytherin.

Harry kept sneaking off somewhere and wouldn’t tell Draco where or why, Vince was hanging out with the third- and fourth-year hardline blood purists more and more, and Greg kept flip-flopping between excitedly reading new things and apologizing for pretending to be smart or for slowing everyone else down.

The next time Draco ran into Greg’s dad, he was going to hex the bastard right in the nuts.  Greg was never going to be a brainiac like Theo, because no one was smart like Theo, but he wasn’t stupid either.

He never had been.

“What did the fire do to you, then?” Pansy asked, flopping down on the thick, plush carpet next to Draco.

It took him a moment to realize that he’d been attacking the embers in the common room hearth rather… vigorously.  He scowled.

“Everything is changing this year; I don’t like it.”

“I thought you wanted to be on the quidditch team.  Can’t be all bad.”

“That’s not what I mean.  We’ve all been friends for ages, together.  Except for Harry, but he fit in so well with everyone last year.  It was so easy.

“Now, Harry’s got stuff going on that he won’t tell me about, Vince and Greg barely bother to talk to each other anymore, merlin only knows what girl drama you lot have going on, and I’ve somehow got myself tied up with a gaggle of Weasleys.

“Gemma and Percy are worried about Lockhart, I don’t like how much Lupin looks at Harry, and I dunno.  Something just feels off this year.”

“Don’t be stupid,” Pansy said fondly, ruffling Draco’s hair.  “It sounds like you’re pouting that everyone’s growing up.”

“Am not.”

“We’re not all five anymore, friends because our parents hang out and nothing more.”

“I’m beginning to wonder why I’m friends with you at all.”

“You love me.  I’m just saying, you can’t expect people not to change, and you’re going to push people away even more if you get mad when they do, Stupid.”

“There’s something extra ironic about the gossip queen telling me to shut up and mind my own business.  All you do is judge people for what they do.”

“Only when they deserve it.  I’m ambitious, you know?  I’m going to be the next Rita Skeeter, only better.  Hogwarts is great practice.  Hanging out with you is too, with your impressions and stuff.  You’re very observant and funny when you aren’t being utterly dense.”

“I’m so glad I keep you entertained.”

“We’re friends, but you also keep me informed.  Two birds and all that.”

“Uh huh.  You hang out with Neville Longbottom.  He’s the most normal, boring person in this school.”

Pansy snorted.  “He was your friend first.  And you’re wrong.  Nev’s my special project.”

“What in Merlin’s tits does that mean?”

“Just that once that boy gets his confidence up, he’s going to be one of the most interesting wizards of our generation.  And I’m going to get all the credit for seeing it first.  Just watch.”

“Whatever you say, Pans.  You don’t sound crazy or anything.”

“Crazy is interesting.  So is drama.  Everyone reads the gossip column, even if they refuse to admit it.”

“I don’t.”

“Yes, well, you’re an uncultured child.  Also, you’re a hypocrite.  What do you think all of your jokes and impressions are, if not gossip?”

“Er… actually funny?”

“So am I.  Merlin, Draco, you’re a bigger drama queen than I am.”

“I don’t go out of my way to learn stuff about people, unless I need something from them.  I just make fun of what everybody can already see. It isn’t the same.”

“No, you’re just so wrapped up in your own life that you only notice the really obvious stuff.  Just because I’m the first one to find stuff out doesn’t mean that I’m the only one to see it.  Every girl in fourth year or younger has already noticed that Blaise has a crush on Astoria, by the way.  Or that Millie has a crush on the Weasley twins.  You’re just oblivious.”

Draco made a face.  “Why would I want to notice stuff like that?  It’s weird and gross.”

“Only if you’re a baby,” Pansy scoffed.  “You’ll get it sooner or later.”

“I doubt it,” Draco grumbled, attacking the dwindling fire once again.

“Romance is just like politics, you weirdo.  Everyone wants something and everyone is maneuvering with and against each other to make mutually beneficial deals.  You’re great at that.”

Draco just shrugged.  Friendships were like politics; wanting to mash lips together with someone else was what was weird.

“Do you guys mind if I sit with you?” Greg asked timidly, already lowering himself to the floor.  “Vince keeps trying to set my book on fire.”

“Hey, that’s the book I loaned you!” Draco said indignantly.

Greg shrugged.  “He says I’m boring, now.  Maybe he’s right.”

“There is nothing boring about Inflatable Pete.”

“I think he’s funny,” Greg agreed easily.  “My nanny used to make me try to read these stories out loud when I was little, and I was so focused on figuring out the words that I missed most of the story.”

“I don’t remember you ever being little, Greg,” Pansy teased, holding a hand above her head.  “I’ve always had to look up to you.”

“I’m glad the potion is working,” Draco said seriously.

Greg frowned.  “Should have known Snape would find a cure for stupidity.  He’s smart like that.”

“You were never stupid,” Draco insisted hotly.  “You always understand things once someone explains it to you in the right way, and those stories you used to tell during sleepovers were always really clever.”

“I stumbled all over the words,” Greg mumbled.

“So?  The ideas were always really good.  Maybe you should try writing some of them down, now that you’re reading more.  Make a proper story out of them.”

“They’ll be rubbish.”

“Draco’s right, Greg,” Pansy interjected.  “You should give it a try.  What have you got to lose?”

“Yeah, maybe,” Greg said evasively, picking at the carpet with his meaty fingers.

Draco decided not to push it further for now; Greg was the type of friend to go along with everyone else so long as he could blend in but try to force him into a spotlight that he didn’t want too fast, for too long, and he would abandon the whole thing entirely.

Pansy seemed to know that, too.   “How would you two like to study History of Magic with me tonight?” she asked sweetly.  “You can invite Harry and Nev along too.”

Draco made a face.  “Who actually studies for History of Magic?  It’s so boring.”

Pansy shrugged.  “Binns makes it boring.  He’s not exactly a ‘lively’ teacher.  But history is full of stories.  Maybe if we worked together, we could pick out an interesting one from between the lines… you know, spice things up a bit with a little drama.”

Draco sneered.

As much as he hated to admit it, he had to hand it to her; Pansy was a mad genius at gathering pawns to her side.  They could turn something boring into something fun by subjecting history itself to Pansy’s gossip treatment, while encouraging Greg to explore his storytelling skills and offering Harry a school-related reason to hang out with all of them all at once.  Not to mention whatever plans Pansy had for Neville.

“Yeah, okay,” Draco accepted slowly.  “You in, Greg?”

Greg nodded.  “HoM still doesn’t make much sense to me.  I’m too dumb for all those old words.”

“You’re not dumb,” Pansy and Draco said in unison.

“Unfashionable words are difficult for everyone.  It’s no wonder that social disasters like Granger are the only ones who can make heads or tails out of them.”

“Maybe we should invite her, then,” Greg muttered.

Draco glared at him.  He might be associating with Weasleys now, but he still had his dignity.

And his limits.

“My thoughts exactly,” Pansy said, patting Draco condescendingly on the head.  “That would be utter social suicide.”

“I’d end up in Azkaban for murder by strangulation for sure,” Draco laughed, straightening his hair.  “And those cells would not be good for my complexion.”

“I think she’s lonely.”

“Greg.  No,” Draco said.

“Absolutely not.”

“Get a one-eyed kneazle or something if you need a charity project.”

Greg’s noncommittal shrug was anything but reassuring.

“You do realize she’s muggleborn, don’t you?” Pansy asked, poking Greg’s arm.

Greg shot Draco a confused, worried look.  “I thought we didn’t care about that anymore.”

“We don’t,” Draco replied firmly, glaring at Pansy over Greg’s oversized shoulder.

Pansy rolled her eyes.  “We make exceptions.  For the greater good.”

Draco frowned to himself.  Being friends with Piers Polkiss had exactly zero benefit to the so-called greater good.  It was just fun.

And occasionally aggravating.

Like a real friendship.  Huh.

Maybe it wasn’t just everyone else who was changing.

Chapter Text

Severus swept from the floo into the headmaster’s office, vague summons still crumpled in hand and stopped short as oppressive amounts of people turned to look at him.

Dumbledore offered him a tight smile as the myriads of Hogwarts Board of Governors, Ministry Officials, and Daily Prophet staff jostled to make room for his arrival.

Merlin, he hated being ambushed.

“Thank you for joining us, Severus,” Dumbledore said not-quite-amiably, the muscles around his eyes tense.  Not an ambush for me, then.  “In light of the unfortunate happenings last year, the school board has seen fit to organize a surprise follow-up review of Hogwarts safety standards.”

Severus shot a hooded glance at Lucius Malfoy, who was standing by to Headmaster’s desk next to the Minister of Magic, himself.  “I… see.”

Lucius stepped forward with a barely contained smirk and offered his hand.  “As the primary whistleblower last year and verified hero and rescuer of at least one student from malevolent forces, we saw fit for you to join us on our tour.  Please feel free to share any new or lingering concerns that you may have as they come up.”

Severus reluctantly shook Malfoy’s hand and was immediately blinded by an onslaught of camera flashes.

Bloody perfect .

As if the new Gryffindor Creevey’s obsession with him was not annoying enough.

“Let’s get this over with,” he grit out.

Minister Fudge laughed and slapped Severus unnecessarily vigorously on his back.  “Right to business, is it then?  I can see why Lucius speaks so highly of you.  Lead on, lead on.”

“What all did you want to see?” Severus asked while silently begging Dumbledore to rescue him.

Fudge beamed.  “Everything.”

“How vague.”

“It is best to be thorough when it comes to the children’s safety, don’t you agree, my friend?” Lucius asked, clasping Severus’ shoulder and steering him toward the office door.  “Albus, I believe it best if you stay behind for our tour.  We’ll bring any questions we have to you after we’re finished.”

“A wise suggestion, Lucius,” Fudge agreed.  “We want an unbiased look at the school before we follow up.  This shouldn’t take longer than what, three or four hours?”

Severus glared pointedly at Malfoy.

The bastard winked at him in return.  The man was out for Dumbledore’s blood and Severus’ wrath was clearly not enough to deter him.

In a moment of weakness, Severus wondered how honest he could be with these people without losing Dumbledore’s protection. 

One thought of Harry eradicated that line of thought.  He would just have to hope that his newfound sterling reputation and Lucius’ machinations were enough to keep him out of Azkaban if Dumbledore decided that he was more of a threat than an asset.

Still, Severus did his best to speed the inquisition along.

He did not lie, nor omit anything that he found truly important, but he quickly brushed aside any trivial thing that caught anyone’s attention, and physically pushed the group to keep up a brisk pace as the walked the castle halls.

There were a million little things Severus could nitpick about how the Headmaster ran things, but no one would be willing to prosecute death by a thousand cuts after something so dramatic as a dragon attack last year.

Even Lucius with his ax to grind would be bored by accusations of petty favoritism and casual negligence, no matter how dire the culminating results could become.

Severus was mentally exhausted by the time they had worked their way down to the dungeons.  He was desperately counting steps until this tour was over.

“Hello Professor Snape,” Gemma Farley said firmly as she and Percy Weasley approached with grim, determined faces, “Minister.  Ladies and Gentlemen of the board.  My name is Gemma Farley and this is Percy Weasley.  We are both prefects here and have some information to share with you all, if you have a moment.”

“Miss Farley was instrumental in keeping Harry Potter safe last year,” Snape explained to the group with a nod to his favorite prefect.

Lucius sized them up like a lazy but curious predator, smiled, and inclined his head politely to the pair.  “My son has also been impressed with young Mr. Weasley as of late.  I believe that hearing some feedback from two esteemed students would be worth our time.  Minister?”

“Yes,” Fudge quickly agreed.  “Yes, I believe some insight from the young men and women in the trenches of this institution would be most welcome.  What have the two of you got to report?”

“Here are copies of our observations, notes, and suspicious incidents this far,” Percy said briskly as he handed out what looked for all the world to be professional press briefings.

“We don’t have enough actionable evidence to seek criminal charges on our own, yet,” Gemma said, “but we are hoping that you will share our concerns about Professor Lockhart once we explain and take action.”

Severus skimmed the notes and was stunned.

He listened to Gemma and Weasley nearly trip over their words in their haste to relay their observations with a faint buzzing in his ears.

He felt ill.

It had always been evident that Lockhart was a fraud; his rank incompetence was proof of that, but Gemma and Percy had come with receipts.

Proof that Lockhart had not been involved in at least half of the ridiculous tales that he spewed.  Proof that those expeditions had happened without him.  Proof that all record of the individuals who had risked their lives for adventure, discovery, or heroics had been scrubbed clean.  Proof that more than one likely candidate to embark on such a mission had been left with missing memories, mental impairment, and sudden onset nervous tics.

That was bad enough.

When Farley and Weasley began haltingly outlying their suspicions of which nefarious reasons such a man might seek out a position of authority over children, Severus went numb.

He did not want to believe that anything had happened.  Yet .

But the evidence of Lockhart’s history of memory tampering and nefarious deeds was overwhelming.  As was his pattern of basking in the fawning praise of students of all ages.

It was rare that Severus was subjected to the crush of a student, but it had happened.  He had always been quick to establish firm professional boundaries and to discourage any manner of obsession discreetly but firmly.

Unequivocally.

The mere suggestion of what a monster such as Lockhart could do in a position of power over the naïve and vulnerable made Severus’ blood boil.

He was not alone in his simmering rage.

Many of the officials in their group were parents and even those who did not have children of their own had clenched fists and tense, twitching jaws.

“This must be dealt with immediately,” Lucius seethed.  “My son informed me that some students had concerns, but I had not realized it was this dire.  This is beyond the pale.  I… I need to go find my son.”

Every other parent in the group nodded.  Severus, too, wanted to rush off to ensure that his students were safe.  To make sure Harry was unharmed.

But there was work to do.  He grabbed Lucius’ arm.

“One hundred and fifty points to both Gryffindor and Slytherin,” Severus bit out in a deadly calm.  “Miss Farley, Mr. Weasley, please inform the other prefects to gather all of your students within your respective dorms.  If anyone is missing, inform your Head of House immediately.  Do not, under any circumstances, confront Mr. Lockhart or allow him access to your dorms.  If he tries to get you alone, defend yourself and flee immediately.  Do not take chances.”

Everyone nodded in agreement.

Fudge cleared his throat.  “I hereby issue an emergency indictment against Professor Gilderoy Lockhart until such time as a thorough investigation is conducted.  Secretary Lundquist, call the aurors.  I want Mr. Lockhart off of school grounds and in a ministry holding cell within the next ten minutes.”

“This is the second year in a row where the Headmaster has hired a clear and present threat against his students into a position of authority and trust,” Lucius spit out.

Silence descended over the group as that reality settled in.  Fudge was grave when he next spoke.  “…Yes.  Lucius, how quickly can the school board appoint an interim Headmaster?”

Lucius smirked coldly.  “Do any of the board members object to Professor Snape taking up the role?”

Severus nearly choked, even as every board member shook their heads.

“No objections,” another board member stated.

“I have a few,” Severus hissed, staring daggers at his irksome not-quite-friend and mortal enemy while trying not to panic.  Hogwarts needed Dumbledore’s protection.  The man might be a conniving old fool, but his reputation and magical prowess protected the school better than any wards could manage.

Except when it didn’t .

Lucius blithely ignored him.  “We might need aurors to escort the headmaster off of school grounds, too.  I would not put it past him to put up a fight.”

The whole group blanched at that.

What that really necessary?

Could Severus allow that to happen?

Which path was the lesser of two evils?

Dumbledore kept allowing threats into the school.  Could Severus do any better?  Could anyone?

What would happen if The Dark Lord returned while Hogwarts was not under Dumbledore’s protection?  Would Lucius open the doors to everyone’s destruction?

“Let’s not be hasty, Lucius,” Minister Fudge said, hands raised and shoulders hunched.  “Surely Albus can be placed on administrative leave without exiling him from his home.  He does not pose a threat to the children directly, it his only his judgement on hiring practices that is currently in question.”

Severus watched as Lucius hid his annoyance beneath a mask of genial servitude.  “Forgive me, Minister.  My protective instincts as a father have made me overzealous.”

“Quite alright, my friend.  Go.  Check on your son.  All of you.  We can reconvene for a follow up of our initial investigation after this situation has been handled.”

As the parents in the group scurried off to find their children, Severus took a moment to collect his thoughts.

He needed to speak with Albus, to reassure him that the war was still his primary objective.  Lucius Malfoy was going to discover that Severus was a traitor sooner or later and once that happened, Albus would be the only thing standing between him and Azkaban.

Walking briskly to his office, Severus thought over what his strategy in proving his continued loyalty should be.  He and Dumbledore were already at odds with how to handle Harry’s time here at Hogwarts, and where he spent his summers.  He needed to reassure the old man that Severus would not use this fiasco as a means to muscle Dumbledore out of the boy’s life entirely.

As tempting at that could sometimes be.

He stopped short when he noticed Harry and Lupin loitering outside of his office.  A twang of panic ripped through Severus’ chest at seeing Harry alone with an adult that he did not trust.

Lupin isn’t Lockhart.

Severus may hate the man, but the wolf would never harm Potter’s son.

“Harry, you should be in the Slytherin dorms.”

Harry frowned up at him.  “Curfew isn’t for hours, yet.”

Right .  There had not yet been time for Farley to gather his snakes into the safety of their dorms.  “What are you doing here, Lupin?”

Harry crossed his arms and scowled.  “Mr. Lupin offered to light a candle with me, for my dad.  I told him I already had plans to light one with you.”

Severus blanched at Harry’s accusatory tone.  In the chaos of the afternoon, he had completely forgotten that it was Halloween.

Why does everything always go to shit on Halloween?

Giving Lupin a wary glance, Severus unlocked his office and ushered them both inside.  “Indeed, we do.”

Merlin, Severus really would do anything to keep Harry Potter safe and happy, wouldn’t he?

Lily, give me strength.

Chapter Text

Remus could smell the tension radiating off of Snape as he ushered Remus and Harry into his office.  He had to bite his lip to keep from telling the man off for being so surly and snappish on the anniversary of Harry’s parents’ deaths.

It was hard for Remus, too, but he was holding it together for the boy’s sake.

Harry, for his part, was hyper-focused on Snape's mannerisms and mood in a way that no child should need to be.  Regulating the emotional needs of adults was no task for a child.

Remus needed to intervene before Harry’s night became all about making Snape feel better and not about honoring his mother and father.

“Uncle Sev, what’s wrong?” Harry asked, pressing himself tentatively into Snape’s side.

Remus suppressed his frown and watched closely as Snape sighed away some of the tension in his shoulders and wrapped Harry into a casual one-armed hug.

“Harry,” Snape said gently, almost regretfully, “have you experienced any missing time or gaps in your memory this year?  Any feelings of unease or wrongness that you cannot explain?”

Moony’s hackles rose at something resonating in Snape’s voice.  Repressed protective rage.

Only then did the actual words register.  What was Snape implying?

Nothing good.

Feeling his wilder instincts surge to the fore, Remus struggled to keep from scaring Harry or Snape as he hyper-fixated on their every movement, on every word.

Harry cocked his head and scrunched his eyebrows together.  “No?  Should I be?”

“No,” Snape growled, holding Harry closer.  “What about your friends?  Has anyone been disappearing for unexplained lengths of time or acting withdrawn or unaccountably angry?”

Harry shook his head.  “No one but me that I can tell.  I’ve been a little overwhelmed with everything going on this year, but it’s nothing bad.  Promise.  Is everything okay?”

“I certainly hope so.”

Moony was not reassured.  “What happened, Severus?”

Snape gave him a long warning look, angling Harry away from him and forcing Remus to suppress a growl.  “Get a hold of yourself Wo… would you?  Lockhart is in the process of being arrested.”

“WHAT?  Why?”

“I said calm down!” Snape snapped.  “Are you capable of having this conversation safely?”

Harry’s eyes were wide as the moon as he looked back and forth between them.

Forcing himself to take a deep breath, Remus nodded.  “I apologize.  I am in control.”

“You had better be.  I am in no mood to take chances, tonight.  Evidence has come to light that our pitiful excuse for a Defence professor has been meddling with the memories of people and stealing their stories as his own for years.  Concerns were raised about how such a man could utilize that skill set within a school full of impressionable youths.”

Remus did growl that time, feeling his eyes flash gold as he forced himself to keep from hunting Lockhart down and tearing him to shreds, but he kept control.

“I don’t get it,” Harry said.  “Why would Lockhart want to steal the memories of a bunch of kids?  Aren’t his stories about grand adventures and stuff?”

“We are simply being cautious, Harry,” Snape soothed.  “It is nothing for you to worry about, once Lockhart is safely behind bars.”

“But…”

“How did Albus find out about all this?” Remus asked sharply.

“He did not,” Snape bit out. 

Remus frowned.  “Then how..?”

“Two prefects presented their case to the school board and Minister Fudge, today.”

Guilt flooded Remus as he flinched at the mention of powerful people who could see him fired or imprisoned.  He was being selfish.  It was good that they were taking the school’s safety seriously.

Even if that meant walking on a knife’s edge, waiting to slip.

Waiting for Snape to give him a bit of a nudge.

Harry’s face darkened.  “Dumbledore hired a criminal two years in a row, then.”

“Yes.”

“Hold on,” Remus said.  “Dumbledore is a powerful man, but he doesn’t know everything.  I’m sure he will handle Lockhart appropriately now that the truth has come to light.”

Snape rolled his eyes.  “He will not be given the chance.  The Board of Governors have placed him on administrative leave.”

Worry clenched within Remus’ guts.  The last thing he needed was a new Headmaster digging into the staff’s histories on behalf of the Board or the Ministry. “Have you heard who is replacing him?”

“Selfless as always, I see,” Snape drawled, prying Harry off of his side to pour himself a drink and offering a second to Remus in a surprising gesture of solidarity.  “You’re going to need this.”

“Why?”

Severus gave a humor less smirk.  “Because I’ve been appointed as interim Headmaster, quite against my will.  Your fate is once again in my hands and that vow Dumbledore forced me to swear will only protect you so far.  I suggest that you keep that in mind.”

Moony bristled at the implicit threat while Remus cast a worried glance at Harry.  “I take everyone’s safety very seriously, Severus.  I would appreciate it you extended the same care to my privacy.”

Harry’s eyes widened as he stared brazenly and intently at Remus’ scars.  “Wait.  Wait, wait, wait.  Are you a werewolf?  Uncle Sev, is he a werewolf?”

Snape smirked.  “I knew you were a clever boy.”

“What did you say to him, Snape?” Remus snarled, making both him and Harry flinch.

“Professor Snape didn’t tell me anything bad,” Harry snapped, maneuvering himself between the two adults despite Snape’s awkward attempts to prevent it.

“I left him a trail of proverbial breadcrumbs to follow, Wolf.  You are the one who just confirmed your condition.  Now that I can speak openly in Harry’s presence, let me be clear; you are a threat to everyone at this school.

“If you ever forget or are prevented from taking your potion, you become dangerous.  If I am ever incapacitated or am otherwise incapable of brewing your potion every month, you become dangerous. Even if another werewolf crosses paths with you on school grounds or in Hogsmeade, you become a territorial and temperamental threat.  Do not attempt to deny it.  Better yet, stop living in denial.”

“Are you firing me?” Remus growled.  It wasn’t fair.  He had barely gotten to know Harry.  He had no other prospects lined up.  He had nowhere else to go.

“Not yet.  I have one very simple condition to keeping you on staff.”

Remus swallowed and wrestled Moony, who was feeling backed into a corner, into submission.  “And what condition might that be?”

Snape looked Remus dead in the eye.  “Swear an Unbreakable Vow to me that you will never spend a full moon without taking an effective dose of Wolfsbane Potion ever again.”

Remus paled.  One mistake, one month of being unable to afford his potion would be a death sentence.

“What if I leave Hogwarts and cannot afford the potion on my own?”

“Then your only victim will be yourself.”

“Wait,” Harry said.  “If he breaks his promise, he’ll die?  Even if it is just an accident or something that he can’t help?”

“That is the nature of Unbreakable Vows, yes.”

“But that’s not fair!” Harry said indignantly.  Despite his terror at the Vow, it warmed Remus’ heart to see Lily’s sense of justice and James’ protective streak shine through in their son despite everything.

“Lycanthropy is an insidious disease, Harry.  My terms are not a punishment, merely a precaution.  I am certain that Mr. Lupin agrees that no one deserves to be infected.”

Hunching his shoulders, Remus had little choice but to nod, even if he could not meet either of their eyes while he did so.  It was true.  He would die of guilt if he ever infected anyone else.

“I have money,” Harry said suddenly.  “If Mr. Lupin ever needs help with his potion, I can help.”

“Oh, no… I couldn’t accept that,” Remus said quickly, pushing down his instinctive self-loathing at the kind gesture.

“That is very kind, Harry, but life is rarely so simple,” Snape added dismissively.

Harry glared at them both.  “You said it yourself, Uncle Sev, Mr. Lupin is less of a threat with the potion than without it, right?  And you.  You’re the last of my dad’s friends who aren’t dead or in prison, and you owe me answers.  I intend to collect, got it?”

Remus nodded past the lump swelling in his throat.  He owed this child more than stories.

So much more.

“Wolfsbane is a very expensive potion to produce,” Snape said, as if discussing the weather rather than Remus’ life.  “It is admirable to offer help, but you should be aware of the cost, first, and weigh it into your decision.”

“You’ve seen my vault,” Harry insisted, “and between you and the Malfoy’s I’ve barely had to touch it.  If I sold all the clothes Mrs. Malfoy has given me, I could probably double my gold.  Do you really think I can’t afford it?”

“At the moment, helping would not be a burden, but life is never straight forward.  You might need that money for something in the future.”

“It’s alright, Harry.  As long as I work here, accessing the potion will not be a problem.”

“Does that mean you’re swearing the vow, then?” Harry half asked, half accused.

Remus hesitated.  “I… will carefully consider it.”

“Consider it quickly,” Snape scoffed.  “I will need an answer before the next full moon.  Consider something else, while you are at it, too.  How would you like to be the temporary Defence Against The Dark Arts teaching assistant and class monitor?”

Remus snorted.  “That’s quite the mouthful.”

“I refuse to promote you to professor.”

“Of course you do,” Remus muttered bitterly.  “Wait.  Is this your way of testing a loophole to the supposed DADA curse?”

Snape smirked.  “It seems prudent, especially as I’m already testing the curse’s bounds with the duelling club.”

“Hold on, Adrian told me all about the curse,” Harry said, panicked.  “You never said running the duelling club could be dangerous!  You’re the only adult keeping me safe!”

Snape gave a Harry a softer smile than Remus would have assumed possible mere weeks ago.  “The quicker I can teach you and your friends to defend yourselves and each other, the less you’ll need me to look after you.”

“But…”

“I will be fine, Harry.  I intend to be active in your life for decades to come, I promise.”

Remus allowed his mind to wander as he witnessed the tender moment that did not include him in the slightest.

What did he truly have to live for, if not preparing this newest generation for the fight to come?  Taking that Vow was a horrible risk, but was it any worse than not making it and falling victim to the moon?  Did he really want to live with the guilt of mutilating and damning someone?  A swift, painless death might just be a mercy.

If it came to that.

He refused to drain Harry of his inheritance, but he had very few expenses while living at Hogwarts.  If he saved carefully and fostered a handful of relationships with parents or other staff who might employ him in the future, perhaps he could make this work.

Merlin help him, but Severus Snape might have just offered Remus a glimmer of true hope, in his own cruel, blunt, sociopathic way.

He is taking the safety of his students very seriously.

If Albus had requested that Remus make such a Vow, would he have hesitated?

Was he hesitating now to protect his life, or merely his pride?

“Buck up, Lupin.  Your frown is about to make it rain in here, and we have not even gotten to the sentimental reminiscing, yet.  This is going to be an awkward enough evening as it is without you tripping over your own lip.”

Right.

Remus was already reeling and wrong-footed, and their night had just begun.

Chapter Text

Harry sat curled up in his hidey-hole, wrapped in a blanket with the Daily Prophet crumpled in his hands, and stared out the window into the dark, soothing depths of the lake.

Everything was a mess.

It had been nice to hear new stories about both of his parents from Professor Snape and Mr. Lupin, even when the tension from one or the other of them swelled whenever a story veered too close to the bullying, politics, and mutual fights that still evidently cut deep for both of them.  It seemed like every single story that either one of them had cut too close to some festering wound in the other.

Mr. Lupin was clearly still very hurt by Sirius Black’s betrayal, too.  Black had been the meanest to Uncle Sev when they were in school, Harry was pretty sure, but Mr. Lupin had not seen his turn to the dark side coming.  It re-piqued Harry’s curiosity about what had happened that had led up to his parents being killed.  He should write to Mr. Malfoy again to see if he had had any luck in getting those court transcripts unsealed.

Harry was still reeling from Professor Snape’s insistence on trapping Mr. Lupin into a death sentence if he couldn’t get a dose of a very tricky and expensive potion on time and from Mr. Lupin’s calm indifference to those terms.

“Do you know what my greatest fear has always been?” the man had asked Harry in a resigned, sorrowful tone last night, when Harry kept trying to come up with a compromise.  “It’s that I will hurt someone while my body is enslaved to the moon and my mind is locked so far away that I can’t do anything to stop it.”

Lupin was going to take the Vow; Harry just knew it.  It made Harry angry that his dad’s last true friend was willing to throw his life away so easily.  It made him sad that anyone had to face a choice like that in the first place.

Selfishly, he wished that an old grudge-fueled Vow was the biggest of his current worries, clenching the damned paper in his fists even harder.

Merlin, Harry was starting to hate the Prophet.

Someone had snuck a picture of Harry, Professor Snape, and Lupin exiting Professor Snape’s office after their firelight vigil.

That was bad enough, flashing a moving picture of Harry with puffy eyes and tear-stained cheeks all over the front page, but the headline made it a hundred times worse.

Hogwarts Appoints Interim Head of House After DADA Professor Lockhart Accused of Obliviating Students.

The accompanying article never mentioned Harry directly, but the picture was making everyone think that it was Harry whom Lockhart had hurt, and that Harry had snitched and gotten Dumbledore fired.

He was getting pity that he didn’t understand from one side and accusations of disloyalty to the Headmaster from the other, and it hadn’t even been a full day yet.

It was ridiculous and exhausting and annoying.

A sudden flood of bubbles outside the windows caught Harry’s eye.

Leaning closer, he saw a juvenile creature spinning and flipping through the water with an effortless ease that reminded Harry of flying.

Adventurous little thing.

Harry has heard that loads of things lived in the lake, but few of them ever ventured close enough to the castle to see in the low glowing light of the water’s depths.

As if sensing the scrutiny, the little guy looked up at Harry and froze.

Harry smiled and waved in as friendly a gesture as he could muster, but the creature got scared or maybe shy and swam away.

Harry hoped he hadn’t scared him off for good.  It was kinda nice having expectation-less, non-judgemental company while he hid away and sulked.

Casting a tempus charm, Harry sighed.  They had an official quidditch practice out on the real pitch in twenty minutes, and Harry hadn’t eaten anything since lunch.

“Lofty?” Harry called out hopefully.

His favorite Hogwarts elf popped into the cramped little room and bowed low.  “How can Lofty be serving Heir Harry?”

Harry rolled his eyes at the title Hogwarts elves all insisted on using when no one was listening in.  “May I please get some orange slices and whatever else is good to eat before a quidditch practice?”

“Lofty knows just the things!”

Harry felt bad that he’d been so distracted since officially joining the Slytherin team.  He really did love the sport and had some wicked ideas for new plays that he and Draco had worked out during the summer.

Marcus’ idea of matching their Seeker to the other team sounded really fun, too.

It wasn’t fair to the team for Harry to allow himself to be distracted and half-hearted during practices and team meetings.  They deserved him at his best.

Trying not to eat the food Lofty provided too quickly and to a really hew before he swallowed, Harry allowed himself to get lost in envisioning himself pulling off the latest moves he’d been working on.

He played each maneuver over and over in his mind, focusing on his hand placement on the broom, and then his balance, how he’d angle his head to feint his opponents, what he’d do with his feet, his hips, his shoulders.  Every finite detail that he usually took for granted as he flew on instinct.

Instincts would only take him so far.  If he got too comfortable relying on them now, it would be even harder to push past his limits once he reached his natural talent ceiling.

He needed to be self-aware if he wanted to build up his skills to an elite level.

And he did want that.

Playing with Draco, watching his flawless technical skills and watching work so hard to overcome his fear and hesitation had been inspiring.

Harry didn’t want to overshadow Draco, but he didn’t want to be left behind, either.  He wanted the two of them to be the two best flyers in the world, one day.

Neither of them would get there by moping around or by taking the easy way out.  It was going to take a lot of excruciating hard work.

Blood, sweat, and tears.

Harry could do that.

His wand started vibrating, letting him know he had five minutes to make it to the changing rooms at the pitch.

Better run.

There was simply too much to do to think about everything imploding in the world around him.

Chapter Text

Draco smirked victoriously as he snatched the snitch out from under Adrian’s nose.  “Too slow, Pucey!”

Adrian laughed.  “Good thing I’m still primarily a chaser, little Malfoy.  Did Harry brew you some illicit performance enhancing potion over the summer?”

“You wish,” Draco laughed.  “This is all skill.  Also, I’m capable of brewing my own illicit potions, thanks.”

“Yeah, yeah.  I’m glad you’re on our team.”

“Me too.  Gryffindor and Hufflepuff both have spies checking in on us.  Have you noticed?”

Adrian rolled his eyes.  “Wood does that every year and Diggory isn’t much better.  Pity for them they can’t get into our common room.  Make sure you and Harry keep a few of your special moves secret.  Marcus wants us to intimidate them without showing our entire hand.”

“Got it,” Draco nodded.  “Might need to remind Harry, though.  He seems fired up today.”

Adrian gave Draco a searching look.  “Yeah, I noticed that, too.  That’s good, right?  I’ve been worried about him this year, and then with that dirty trick the Prophet pulled on him…”

“He hasn’t talked to me about it yet,” Draco admitted.  “I’m sure a little aggressive flying will help.”

“Yeah.  I’m sure Cass will do his best to cheer him up, too.  The official team alternate always doubles as the team therapist.”

Draco frowned.  “Really?”

Adrian snorted.  “No.  Cass is suited for it, though.  Even when he has his own shit going on, he’s always there for everyone else.  He’s got a soft spot for Harry, too.”

“Everyone has a soft spot for Harry.  He’s Harry.”

“True.  Release the Snitch already, Malfoy.  I want another crack at it before Marcus has us rotate.”

Adrian was no slouch as a Seeker, but after a long game of deception and fancy flying, Draco managed to catch the Snitch in a definitive victory.

Draco flashed Adrian a smug smile, even as he desperately flew over to the team bench to snag a drink of water.

He was dripping with sweat and breathing hard enough that his ribs ached, and he we was up against Harry next.

He would need to work harder on his stamina before their first official game.  Morning runs were clearly not enough.

Harry, for his part, seemed to have gotten over whatever had been bothering him lately.  There was a determined, almost manic look in his eye as he flew over.

“Ready to lose, Malfoy?”

Draco grinned and tossed Harry his bottle of water.  “Malfoy, is it?  You’re on, Potter!”

When Harry grinned back, Draco could see some unseen weight lift off of his shoulders.  He needed this.

Well, if Harry needed to let off some steam, Draco was more than happy to oblige.  He might be helpless and stuck as a best friend when Harry ran away from him and hid Merlin only knew where, but this he could do.  Harry always handled things better when he could attack something head on.

“I’m going to win,” Harry promised, his eyes already locked onto the snitch fluttering in Draco’s hand.

Draco smirked.  “You might be coming down with something… you’re starting to sound delusional.  How many fingers am I holding up?”

“More than this,” Harry laughed, flipping Draco the bird so casually that it took him a second before he choked at the audacity.

“I knew Piers was a bad influence on you.”

“Pot.  Kettle.”

“Are you ready?  Don’t want you whining that I cheated after I beat your arse.”

Harry rolled his eyes.  “Just release it already.  Stalling won’t save you.”

“As you wish,” Draco replied in a dramatic falsetto and with as grand of a bow as he could manage on his broom.

They were off.

The wind stung Draco’s cheeks as he flew, his worries sloughing from his bones.

A focused intensity settled in his soul as his mind calmed itself into a single, all-consuming goal.

The fear was still there, lurking beneath his drive, but Draco brushed past it as if it were made of the flimsiest, most delicate silk.

Every time his heart lurched at an upcoming maneuver, Draco harnessed it into an added rush of adrenaline.

He had heard his father say before that fear was what made a person brave, not the absence of it, but Draco had never fully grasped what that meant before.

Each twinge of near panic centered Draco in the moment and crystallized the critical details of his surroundings while blurring everything else into insignificance in pursuit of the Snitch.

The fact that Harry could and was keeping up with him, applying pressure and threatening to overtake him only made it clearer.

Draco had never felt more alive.

The farther Draco pushed himself, the harder Harry challenged him.  Every little twitch and angle, every feint and block, it all threatened the difference between victory and defeat.

There was no time to breathe, no time to think.  It all came down to instinct and a never-ending series of split-second decisions.

Draco won the first round by a unicorn hair’s breadth, but Harry won the second with a demonic vengeance.  Draco was glad that try-outs were already over, but he knew he would have to stay on his game if he wanted to keep his official spot as Seeker.

Draco was zeroing in on the Snitch in a bid to secure a two out of three victory when Professor Snape’s amplified voice cut through the air with a boom.  “ALL STUDENTS, STOP WHAT YOU ARE DOING AND RETURN TO YOUR DORM ROOMS IMMEDIATELY.”

Draco hesitated.  If it had been any other teacher, he would have ignored the order until he’d grabbed the Snitch, but Professor Snape’s tone sounded urgent.

Almost afraid.

Draco and Harry landed side-by-side in front of Snape, who was actively ushering everyone towards the castle with a frantic, hyper-vigilant air.

“What is it?” Harry asked in a strained voice, his hand outstretched as if stuck between offering Professor Snape comfort and seeking some for himself.

Draco wove his arm around Harry’s elbow as he anxiously waited for an explanation.

Snape looked pale as he gripped Harry’s shoulder.  “You need to get to the castle now, Harry.  Sirius Black just escaped from Azkaban.”

Chapter Text

“Black escaping as soon as the news breaks that Dumbledore is no longer Headmaster of Hogwarts?  He sees this as the chance to finish the job his master started eleven years ago.”

“We can’t assume Potter is his only target.  He could go after the children of any number of light families.  He never was that stable.”

“What about Mr. Lupin?  He was almost as close to James Potter as Black himself was.”

“But is he a target or a conspirator?  …No offense, Remus.”

“Dumbledore trusted him enough to hire him.”

“You still trust Dumbledore’s hiring judgement?”

“Enough!” Severus snapped as the pressure and buzzing between his ears intensified.  It was his first staff meeting as interim headmaster, and everything had already devolved into absolute chaos.  “As gratifying as it is that the staff here are finally acknowledging Black’s mental shortcomings, guessing at a madman’s motivations will get us nowhere.  We must simply prepare for the worst and indeed every possibility and move on.

“All students must be assumed at risk and protected.  Every staff member here has a personal connection to Black in one degree or another, so I expect each and every one of you to keep your eyes and ears open.  We will be lost if we devolve into paranoid distrust and finger-pointing, but we are likewise doomed if we willfully turn a blind eye to truly suspicious behaviour for the sake of decorum.

“Lupin!  You and your merry band of friends were quite adept at avoiding both authority figures and consequences while you were students here.  Now is the time to divulge any information you might have about how Black could conceivably gain access to the castle or grounds while avoiding detection.  If you want to prove that your loyalty lies with the innocent children being housed here over and above your past associations, this would be a good place to start.”

Lupin cleared his throat and fidgeted in his seat like a guilty child.  “Right.  Yes.  I do know of a handful of secret passages leading in and out of the castle and grounds that we used to use as children.  We also had a map that showed every occupant of Hogwarts’ current location and movement.  I’m not sure if Black would have access to it now or not, but it is a possibility, and it is something that the f-four of us created together, so he might be able to recreate something similar on his own.  He… er… that is, Black is also an unregistered animagus.  A dog.  Looks rather like a Grim, actually.”

Well that certainly tracked.  Un-fucking-believable.

Severus handed Lupin some parchment.  “I want all of the precise locations; both entrances and exits.  And I want any sighting of any kind of dog on school grounds reported to me immediately.  We’re not taking any chances.  Does anyone else have any pertinent information to add?”

The rest of the staff meeting went about as well as Severus expected, with a lot of half-baked ideas for security intermixed with laments on how the Great Sirius Black had turned to darkness without any warning signs or anyone at all noticing that he wasn’t bloody perfect.

Severus bit his tongue to keep from screaming that he had told them all that Black was rotten to his psychotic core.  Gloating would not help him to keep the school safe.

It was a depressing thing to brag about, too.

“Mr. Lupin, Professor Flitwick, please stay back for a moment.  The rest of you are dismissed.”

Lupin looked sick with nervousness, the coward, while Flitwick appeared politely intrigued.

Once everyone else had left the staff room, Severus firmly locked the door behind them.

“I have a few different items to discuss with both of you,” Severus began, stalling as if an alternate solution to all his problems would magically present itself.  “First, Lupin; I need you to walk Professor Flitwick through the magic behind that map of yours.  Finding a way to shield against revealing Harry and everyone else’s locations would be ideal, and creating out own version of the magic to alert to someone’s unauthorized presence would also be a significant help.

“Second, I have decided to move forward with Lupin as an interim teaching assistant for DADA.  Flitwick, of you would be willing to join me in coordinating the Duelling Club with Lupin’ DADA curriculum, I believe we can make significant strides toward training all students to properly defend themselves.

“Lastly, to that point, the Ministry has been quite insistent in using dementors to assist in tracking Black down.  I have thus far been able to stave off their use on or skirting school grounds, but they will likely be utilized in Hogsmeade and I might not be able to keep them off school grounds forever if this situation is not resolved quickly.  I would like the three of us to make a concerted effort to teach the Patronus Charm to as many students as possible.  Prefects should be the tip priority, followed by those best suited to learn and tutor it and those students deemed particularly high risk.”

“That’s a difficult spell,” Flitwick mused, “but I am confident that we can get at least a couple of older students in each house capable of a corporeal Patronus in a month or two.”

“Good.  Lupin, work the basics of Occlumency into your lessons, if you can manage it.  Any scrap of mental defence the children can muster can help in the case of an emergency.  You do know both Occlumency and the Patronus, do you not?”

Lupin scowled at him.  “I do.”

“Good.  Have your patronus patrol with you as you tend to the grounds.  And if you see Black, alert me immediately.  Do not approach him until I know exactly where you are.”

“I won’t,” Lupin promised.  “I’m assuming you want me to take the Vow before I leave this room?”

Severus blinked.  He had been so caught up in the frenzy of keeping the danger that was Sirius Black out of the school that he had momentarily forgotten about the marauderish danger already lurking within its walls.  Sloppy.  “We’ll need a witness to bind it.”

“That isn’t the real reason why Professor Flitwick is here?”

“Not everything is about you, Lupin,” Severus retorted.  “But I am amenable to Professor Flitwick as our third if you are.”

Lupin cocked his head.  “You included me in your plans without knowing if I’d agree to take the Vow?”

“You’ll need to tell Flitwick the gist of the Vow or your condition before I can explain the wording to him.”

“Yes, as much as I love a good intrigue, all of this talking in circles is starting to make me dizzy,” Flitwick said lightly, though his grip on his wand was tense.

“This is your last chance to take the coward’s path and run away, Lupin.  The quaffle is in your hands.”

“I’ll do whatever it takes to keep Harry safe,” Lupin said firmly.  “Professor Flitwick, I’m a werewolf.  Severus here has proposed a workaround to keep everyone safe around me, despite my affliction.”

“It is rather extreme,” Severus admitted.  “I will allow you a moment to weigh to connotations before you agree to act as our third.”

“Let’s hear it, then,” Flitwick said gamely.

Severus laid out his plan for the Vow and the meticulous wording he had chosen to prevent any chicanery or magical loopholes.

“Surely, the phrasing can be toned down a little,” Flitwick hedged uncomfortably.  “If we worked the problem through together…”

“There’s no time,” Severus snapped.

“I’ll always be a danger to people,” Lupin agreed quietly.  “It’s better this way.”

“But…”

“There’s no way of knowing if an Unbreakable Vow will hold once he’s in wolf form,” Severus said gravely.  “It might not be him breaking the Vow at that point, if he transforms mindlessly, even alone, and then comes across an innocent.  I am not so cruel as to choose this wording purely out of spite.”

“Only partially out of spite?” Flitwick asked sharply.

“It’s fine,” Lupin insisted, his voice gruff.  “Really, I’m fine.  I’ll take the Vow as is.”

“I will not think less of you if you refuse to perform the binding,” Severus allowed.  “I am sure the Headm… Albus will do it for us.”

Remus snorted under his breath.

Interesting.

Severus would have to dig into that reaction later.

“I could just leave if I wanted to,” Lupin said softly.  “I want to stay.  I want to be an asset to the students here and my… my personal knowledge of Black will come in handy.”

Flitwick sighed heavily and nodded.  Annoyingly, Severus felt slightly guilty as he gestured for them to begin.                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                  

Chapter Text

Harry’s life was getting very weird.

It was nice to have someone other than Lockhart teaching DADA again, but Harry was not excited that meditation was now a mandatory part of his coursework.

It was nice that Uncle Sev and the duelling club was teaching them wicked spells and techniques, but it sucked that everyone expected to need to use those skills to fight for his life against his very own godfather sooner or later.

It was nice that Harry had plenty of distractions to keep his mind off of everything, but his perpetual exhaustion was wearing in his body and mind.

He felt like he was living through an adrenaline-fueled fog most of the time, with his fight or flight survival instincts always just a loud noise or an unexpected touch away.

At least Uncle Sev had the power to make sure Harry was safe, this year.  No one was fighting against taking the threat seriously.

Harry had reread both of the letters had his parents had left for him multiple times, looking for clues about why Black had betrayed them then and what his next move might be now, but he was coming up empty.

It had been so frustrating that he’d written to Mr. Malfoy to ask for his help getting a copy of the court transcripts from Black’s trial.

Harry needed answers, one way or the other.

According to Professor Snape, Black had always been unhinged, reckless, and dangerous.  According to Mr. Lupin, no one had seen his betrayal coming.

Something didn’t add up, and the gap in his knowledge was driving Harry crazy.

As stressful as it was to organize and plan everything, Potions Club was by far the simplest part of Harry’s life.  It was fun to see how smart and creative people could be in a field that Harry loved.

Fred and George had the craziest ideas, and we’re unafraid to blow up a cauldron or two testing out theories that no sane person would consider, but they proved to be onto something almost as often as not. 

Cass was a little more conservative in his experimentation and goals but had a real knack for simplifying a brew and for modifying existing recipes to suit an entirely different purpose.  It was no wonder he and Adrian saw the twins as such rivals.

The most inventive person of all, though, was Luna Lovegood.  She was quickly proving to be the most intuitive potioneer that Harry had ever heard of.  It was like she had a sixth sense or something.  It was a fun challenge trying to puzzle out her reasoning and then again decoding the magical principles behind why things always seemed to work out for her.

Harry had always known that lunar cycles and star charts could influence certain potions, but he was quickly realizing that they influenced the subtle effects of potions in more nuanced and consistent ways than he had thought possible.

Neville had been downright giddy when Harry had explained his revelations, going into detail about how he was convinced that certain plants grew better under very specific astronomical conditions.  Together, they had decided to grow some common potion ingredients under different skies and then track if the different crops could compound the differences that brewing at different times could make.

The results might end up being too minute to be deemed worth all the extra trouble, but Harry was fascinated.

It was almost frustrating how school kept magic in separate little boxes when the more Harry experimented, the more inter-related every field proved to be.

It made him wonder what affect charmed or transfigured potion ingredients would have.  His initial reaction was to assume they would create an inferior product, but maybe if they were used intentionally…

Harry had a lot of experimenting to do.

He was glad that he had the Potions Club to help spread the workload around.

It was good that he had distractions.

His father’s best friend and betrayer had escaped from prison and was hunting him down.

Harry shuddered.

He knew that Uncle Sev was doing everything he could to keep Harry safe, but nobody was perfect.  Magic wasn’t perfect.

There were always loopholes, weaknesses, and blind spots to exploit.

There was always room for improvement.

No, Harry would never be completely safe, even he locked himself in his Heir’s Cupboard for the rest of his life and spent his every waking moment adding layer upon layer of magical protections to keep himself alive.

Alone.

Harry had to face the world sooner or later, with its stupid rumors about Harry and Lockhart, its stupid Death Eaters wanting to kill Harry for no good reason, and its stupid conflicting expectations and opportunities that were threatening to pull Harry apart.

Sighing, Harry took one last look out the little for his little sea creature friend and gathered up the notes for his Transfigurations essay.

As tempting as it was to get Lofty to bring him his dinner here, he knew that would not make the rumors go away.  It would probably only make them worse.

The best thing he could do was to once again show the world that he was okay.

Harry had been emulating how Mr. and Mrs. Malfoy handled themselves when they were out in public or interacting with politicians and the press.  He was imitating how Uncle Sev had behaved when he was facing unfair accusations last year.

It hadn’t been easy, keeping a stoic mask in place where everyone could see him, but he was still sure that it would be the best and quickest way to get people to lose interest in him and leave him alone.  The bloody meditation that Harry still sucked at had even come in handy a couple of times, keeping his emotions alive but insulated deep inside himself where they couldn’t be used against him.

A small part of him felt like he was betraying himself, changing to conform to the world when he shouldn’t have to compromise, but his practical side knew it was better to sacrifice this small part of his behavior and routine in order to keep the rest of himself safe and intact.

If he could pull it off.

He knew that if he could keep up the act until Black was recaptured or killed, everything would become a lot easier.  Lockhart’s trial wouldn’t be a picnic, but since Harry wasn’t a witness and didn’t actually know anything about the case, he would not be kept front and center the way he was when every expected Black to hunt him down and murder anyone else who got in his way.

Draco and the other second year Slytherins had been helping him a lot.

Whenever Harry entered class or the Great Hall with his blank mask in place, all of his friends would adopt the same expression, helping Harry blend into a sea of Slytherin ‘indifference’.  They were a uniform, unbroken wall of stoic solemnity.

As Harry entered the Great Hall, he noticed something strange.  The entirety of Slytherin already had their masks firmly in place, including the older students who neither cared about nor liked Harry.

“What’s going on?” Harry whispered to Draco as he slid onto the bench beside him.

Draco took a deliberate nibble of food, hovering his fork in front of his mouth long after he had swallowed.  “Gemma had been officially named as a witness in Lockhart’s trial.  There’s a lot of gross speculation going around as to why.”

Struggling to keep his mask in place, Harry nodded passively.  “You don’t think he hurt her, do you?”

“No.  She was looking into him long before anything came out publicly.  That why the prefects have been so insistent about moving in pairs or groups this year.  She’s fine.”

“Are you sure?” Harry asked, careful to keep his fidgeting hands below the table’s ledge.

“I’m sure,” Draco said softly but firmly.  “She can handle herself.  You focus on yourself, would you?  We’ve all got your back.”

Harry allowed a small smile to break onto his face.  “I know.  Thanks, Dray.”

Draco smirked.  “Anytime, Potter.”

Chapter Text

Severus was reasonably certain that he was not walking to his death.

Probably.

Lucius’ summons had been through official channels and addressed to Hogwarts’ Interim Headmaster, after all.  It was a dinner invitation, nothing more.  It was a professional courtesy.  It was the type of bureaucratic glad-handing that was expected of society’s elite.

It was even less like Lucius to leave an obvious paper trail than it was to do his own dirty work.

He must not yet know about Severus’ true allegiance.  If he did, he would be more subtle.

…Unless The Dark Lord had found a way to fully return and waving Severus’ mangled corpse around like a banner was his way of announcing himself to polite society.

If that was the case, though, surely Lucius would have found a way to include Harry into his invitation, too.

He was the prize The Dark Lord truly coveted.

Which was why Severus was still reporting to Dumbledore about innocuous appearing dinner invitations with school Governors.

It made Severus uncomfortable, giving a bored and aimless Albus any kind of insight into Harry’s life, but in this instance, he did not know what else to do.

There was zero chance that dinner with Malfoy came with no strings attached, and although Severus did not trust Dumbledore to have Harry’s best interests in mind, he knew the old man would move heaven and earth to keep Harry alive.

For the bloody war.

“Severus, come in,” Lucius welcomed the moment his foot brushed against the first stair leading up to Malfoy Manor’s main entrance.  His smile was a little too forced and his stance a little too nonchalant.

He was waiting for me at the door.

Severus swallowed reflexively.  What was going on?

Lucius led Severus directly to his private office, foregoing his usual hosting theatrics and casual displays of wealth.

They walked at a brisk pace, tension sparking in the silence between them.

“What is this about?” Severus asked, the moment the door was closed and locked behind them.

Lucius gave him an inscrutable look.  “You might want to take a seat.”

“Do not make me hex you, Malfoy.”

That drew a small smirk from the insufferable man, who took his time pouring himself a drink and taking his own seat behind his ridiculously oversized desk.  “I would never dream of antagonizing you, old friend.  Not intentionally.”

“What.  Happened?”

Lucius took a drawn-out sip of whiskey.  “Harry has been curious about his godfather since long before the man escaped from Azkaban.  He has been asking me to look into the details of his incarceration.”

“I am assuming you’ve obliged.”

“Indeed.  How could I deny a young Slytherin the knowledge needed to grab the reigns of his own life?”

“How generous.”

“Are you certain you would not be more comfortable seated?”

“I swear to Merlin, Malfoy, I will hurt you.”

“Sirius Black never had a trial.”

“I… what?”

Malfoy leaned back in his chair and gave his whiskey a dramatic swirl.  “Boggles the mind, does it not?  That our illustrious Ministry could make such a blunder?”

“You’re mistaken.  I am certain the Ministry has classified all sorts of trial transcripts.”

“Oh, they have.  They have kept all manner of salacious details from ever reaching the public.  I have copies of all of them.  You can look through them, if you’d like.”

“But not Black’s.”

“Not Black’s.  There is no trace of a trial.  Not even a footnote.  It never happened.”

Severus sat heavily.  “That does not mean he is not guilty.”

“It certainly does not.  It does mean that the world’s most notorious escaped convict has been unlawfully imprisoned for the last eleven years, though, which causes complications.”

“It doesn’t have to,” Severus snapped.  This could not be happening.  He was not about to allow Black to escape justice on some stupid clerical loophole.  He refused to allow Lily’s murderer to walk free.

“You misunderstand me, my friend.  I know the ways that Black tortured you when you were younger.  I am not about to undermine your vengeance.  I am merely pointing out that this revelation puts me in a precarious situation.  Outing this information will undermine my relationship with Fudge.  It will make him look weak and incompetent.  It will cause him a lot of work and public ire, correcting this oversight.”

“Why ‘out it’ at all then?” Severus demanded.  Bury it.  No one needs to know.  Let Black be captured and Kissed and be done with it.

Lucius smiled softly.  “Because Harry asked me about it.”

Severus felt ill.

“If I was able to unearth this information,” Lucius continued, “someone else will, too.  Harry knows I’ve been looking into this on his behalf.  If someone else leaks the truth of it, I will lose Harry’s trust.”

Severus swallowed hard, silently damning Lucius for not offering him a drink.  Bastard.  “Harry values honesty.”

“He does.  Ministers come and go, but there is only one Boy Who Lived.  I am not going to allow my investment of the last year and a half to go to waste.”

“You could tell Harry privately.”

“And what do you think the boy would do with that information?  He is just learning how to flex his political muscles, but he is insatiably curious, and values justice to a fault.  He would leak the truth himself, and you know it.  Do you really want that political backlash to land on him?”

“I…”

“Make no mistake, my friend.  I did not invite you hear to ask for your permission, nor for your advice.  This is a courtesy; offering you advanced warning, so you may prepare yourself.  I do not wish to make and enemy of you, Severus, but this is going to come to light.”

“No,” Severus said weakly, “no, you are right.  It needs to come out.  There should be a trial.  A public trial.  Black’s treachery should come fully to light.”

“Now you’ve the right of it,” Lucius crooned.  “Harry values honesty: Black is a liar.  Harry values loyalty: Black is a betrayer.  Harry values strategy: Black is reckless and dangerous.  Nothing will keep our investment safe more than imbuing him with the truth.  The more he knows that you and I are willing to trust him with the truth, the more he will continue to come to us with his worries, to come to us when danger strikes.”

“Yes, of course.  That makes sense.”

“Have a drink, my friend,” Lucius said with a smirk, floating a second glass of whiskey Severus’ way.

Severus snatched it with a glare and swallowed it in a single, burning gulp.  “You really are a bastard.”

“You’ve no idea.  I must admit, I am curious to see how this trial will expose how James Potter’s closest friend and notorious Dark Arts hater became a loyal Death Eater without any of the rest of us ever suspecting a thing.”

“I’d rather just see him Kissed,” Severus grumbled.

“After making such a fool of the Ministry, I am certain we will get to witness both.”

Severus’ whiskey felt like acid in his stomach.

He didn’t like this at all.  A bloody ambush from the Dark Lord at dinner would have been easier to handle.

Chapter Text

Shoulders aching from a particularly difficult day of removing boulders from a field too close to the wards, Remus was just tidying up his rooms so he could turn in for the evening when a furious knocking at his door startled him.

He was both surprised and not at all surprised to see Snape looming in the hall, glowering and brooding.

“Come on in, Interim Headmaster,” Remus said cautiously, ushering the prickly man inside.  Had he decided to fire Remus, after all?

“News about Black is about to break,” Snape bit out without preamble, “and I need you to keep your head when it does.  Do not forget the facts, Lupin.”

Remus scowled at the accusatory tone.  “It’s hard to know which facts to keep in mind when I’ve no idea what you’re going on about, Severus.”

What had Sirius done now?

“Right.  I apologize,” Snape said, distractedly running his long pale fingers through his stringy hair.  The apology startled Remus more than anything else had in any of their increasingly bizarre conversations all year.  “You might want to take a seat.  Or not.  Ignore me.  I’m turning into Lucius Bloody Malfoy.”

Merlin, Snape was so out of sorts that he had let his guard slip.  It made Remus anxious as hell.  “Severus…”

“Promise me that you will listen to me all the way through and stay put until you’ve thought things out.  I will restrain you or worse if I must, to protect Harry.  Understood?”

Remus crossed his arms across his chest and glared up at the taller man.  “What exactly do you expect me to do? Spontaneously transform into a wolf and tear through the castle?” 

Snape rolled his eyes.  “I do know how the moon cycle works, Lupin.  The rest, though…”

“For fuck’s sake, just tell me!”

“PRO.  MIS.  ME.”

“Fine!” Remus snapped.  “I promise to stay calm.  Now, what has Black done, this time?”

Snape quirked an eyebrow at him, his thin lips curling into a restrained sneer.  “He spent the last decade plus change in Azkaban without ever having a trial.”

Remus paled.  He stumbled into the closest chair.  His brain refused to process that.  It refused to form thoughts.  Remus needed to sit.  Or lay down.  What did that mean?

“What?  No, no, that’s not possible.  That can’t… I haven’t… he…”

“Lupin, listen to me,” Severus fairly growled, looming over him.  “This does not change a thing.  Potter and Lily are still dead.  Pettigrew is still dead.  Those muggles are still dead.  The lack of a conviction does not make him any less dangerous to Harry.  Wallow in the guilt of being a neglectful friend later, but for now, process this information so you can recommit to keeping Harry safe.”

“I should have known,” Remus insisted weakly, his mind flitting from moment to moment where he should have been more observant, where he should have cared enough to seek out closure.  He had always been too afraid to know the whole truth, and he’d allowed a loophole to fester that might be enough to set a monster free.  “Why didn’t anyone know?  Did you know?”

“Of course I didn’t!” Snape snapped, sparking a flicker of guilt in Remus’ chest.  “I would have demanded a public lynching of a trial.  Is this going to be a problem for you?  Can I still trust you to keep Harry safe if Black approaches you with some sob story?”

Moony bristled.  “Black already stole James from me with a silver tongue and a mountain of damned lies.  I won’t let him get to Harry, too.  I won’t.”

Severus scrutinized him carefully.  “Good.  I apologize for dropping that on you, but I needed to see your unfiltered reaction.”

Remus nodded, too shocked by the revelation of Sirius to fully process a second apology from the most stubbornly proud man Remus had ever known.  “I suppose that makes sense.  How do you know about this, anyways?”

Snape grimaced.  “Harry asked Lucius Malfoy to dig up Black’s trial transcripts for him.  For closure.”

“And Malfoy’s going to go public with it?”

“He can’t keep Harry in his pocket of hr doesn’t.”

“I still don’t trust that family,” Remus admitted darkly.  “I’ve become convinced that you truly have Harry’s best interests at heart, but Malfoy?”

“It is good to see you are capable of some level of critical thinking,” Snape drawled.  “I believe that Draco is firmly on Harry’s side, for now.  He’s not a good enough actor to fake his allegiance.  Narcissa has extended her motherly protection over Harry for the time being, as well.  If the Dark Lord never returns, they would likely all stay fast allies, but that is a pipe dream.”

“Have you warned Harry?”

“That his surrogate family that he trusts with his life and loves as his own might betray him someday over politics or self preservation?  No.  I’ve hinted to Lucius’ past, but forcing the matter at this point will only push Harry away… more than my own past already has.”

Remus frowned.  “Isn’t that dangerous?  Letting him stay close to them?”

Severus gave him a pointed look.  “You know how stubborn Potters can be.  He and Draco are dorm mates.  I can’t exactly keep them apart, and isolating him from the only parental figures he’s ever known will only tempt him to turn a blind eye to all of their faults.  He’s safe for now.  Lucius won’t risk anything until the Dark Lord is physically capable of protecting him from the blowback.”

“Well… fuck.”

“Indeed.”

“What are we going to do if Harry does get tricked?  By Black or by Malfoy?  He’s too young to understand everything that’s going on.”

“Harry values honesty and trust,” Snape said bluntly, “but he also values loyalty.  All we can do is tell him the age-appropriate truth without getting between him and his chosen family.  He’s a smart kid.  He’s called Lucius out on his bullshit more than once already.  And myself.  And Minister Fudge.  Mostly though, Lupin?  Let him make mistakes and then love him anyways.  He deserves that much from us, no matter what those mistakes may be.”

Remus nodded slowly.  “You’re a good man, Severus.  You should let people see that more often.”

A dismissive scoff answered him.  “It is hardly my fault that you and many others have been willfully blind.  I do what needs doing without the posturing and peacocking.  It is more efficient.”

“Public perception matters,” Remus said softly, rubbing absently at one of the many scars along his arm.

Severus rolled his eyes.  “I’d rather operate from the shadows.”

“Whatever you say, Headmaster.”

That earned Remus a very satisfying glare.

Chapter Text

Harry was confused when, after Slytherin’s morning run, Uncle Sev had sent him an invitation to have breakfast together in the Interim Headmaster’s office.  He didn’t think he’d done anything to get into trouble, but he hadn’t done anything special, either.

Waving goodbye to Draco and the other Slytherins at the entrance to the Great Hall, Harry continued up the next flight of stairs to where Professor Snape’s temporary Headmaster’s office had appeared.

“Thank you for coming, Harry,” Professor Snape said curtly.  “Please take a seat.  Lofty will bring us our meal shortly.”

“What’s going on, Sir?” Harry asked anxiously, looking around the luxuriously but generically decorated space for clues.  “Is something wrong?”

“You are not in trouble,” Uncle Sev said, dodging the question.  “I suspect you are about to receive a letter from Lucius Malfoy with the morning mail, and I wanted to discuss it with you, after you’ve had a chance to peruse it in privacy and peace.”

“Oh.”

“What are you thinking, Harry?”

Harry sighed.  “If you already know I have a letter coming, why don’t you just tell me what it’s about?”

Professor Snape smirked and leaned forward conspiratorially.  “There are few things in this life as dangerous as undermining Lucius Malfoy’s theatrics when he is feeling dramatic.  You will want to read the whole account firsthand.  Then we can discuss it.”

“Well now I don’t know whether I should be excited or nervous.  Can’t you give me a hint?  Just a little one?”

Uncle Sev rolled his eyes.  “You are worse than a Gryffindor, sometimes.”

Grinning impishly, Harry leaned forward.  “I try to embody the most annoying traits of all the houses.”

“Merlin forbid.”

Harry laughed.  “It really isn’t anything bad, then?”

“It is nothing that will get you in trouble or put you in additional danger.  The news might be… frustrating, but I will help you through it.  I will be there every step of the way.  I suspect Lucius Malfoy will promise likewise.”

Harry frowned.  “I can’t tell if you think that’s a good thing, or not.”

Waving his hand dismissively, Professor Snape conjured Harry a napkin.

“Lofty is being sorry for the delay,” Lofty said, popping into the room along with Harry and Uncle Sev’s breakfasts.  “There was some debate over what the little Slytherin Heir would like best.”

Harry squirmed in his seat.  That was still mostly a secret.  He hoped the elves weren’t spreading true rumors about him.  Or false ones, for that matter.

The food looked delicious, though, piled high with Harry’s favorites and more.

“Thanks, Lofty!  I don’t even know what some of this stuff is.  It looks great, though!”

“Lofty told Fumbler and Twinkling they was overthinking things, but silly elves don’t listen.”

“That will be all, Lofty,” Professor Snape interjected softly.

Harry had already dug into the food before Lofty had time to bow and leave.

“This really is delicious,” Harry admitted happily around a mouthful of food.  “I hope the letter gets here soon so I can enjoy it properly.”

“For a Slytherin, you aren’t very subtle.”

“Sometimes subtlety is wasted effort,” Harry grinned.  “I’m aiming for guilt, here.  Emotional blackmail is very Slytherin, don’t you think?”

“And yet, I believe I have the strength to hold out until the post arrives.”

“It’s taking bloody forever.”

“Language, Harry.”

“Er, sorry.  I… I see owls!”  Harry dropped his fork and ran to the office’s largest window, bouncing on his feet.  “Let them in, let them in!”

“Hopefully, it will just be the one coming to find us,” Snape muttered fondly, opening the window as one of Mr. Malfoy’s distinctive eagle owls swooped in.

“Hi, Seneca,” Harry said, giving the owl a scritch on the head.  “What do you have for me?”

The owl patiently held out his leg as Harry grabbed the letter, before feeding him some bacon and sending him on his way.

Now that he actually had the letter, he was suddenly nervous to read it.

What if Uncle Sev was wrong and it was something bad?

“Go on, Harry,” Uncle Sev nudged.  Harry smirked, realizing he wasn’t the only impatient one.

“Yes, Sir.”

The letter started in that way of Mr. Malfoy’s that Harry especially liked, respectful like he was an adult and yet teasing like he was part of the family.

His smile faded as he read on.

Mr. Malfoy had spent months doing as Harry had asked, searching for Black’s trial transcripts, only to uncover a scandal: Sirius Black had never had a trial at all.

Harry had to reread it twice to make sure he understood it correctly.

The man who had betrayed Harry’s parents and gotten them murdered had never been made to face justice.  He had never had his ugly secrets and dark heart laid bare.

Professor Snape and Mr. Malfoy and even Harry himself had had their good names and reputations questioned and scrutinized all over the papers and in the Ministry, and Black had been quietly swept away.

How had nobody noticed?

Weren’t his parents supposed to be war heroes?  Hadn’t it been their bravery and sacrifice for Harry’s sake that had ended the war?

Why had no one cared enough about getting justice for them to make the truth of their backstabbing best friend public record?

Harry knew that Uncle Sev and Mr. Malfoy had been busy fighting for their own freedom at the time, so it made sense that they would assume they had just missed it, but everyone else?

Every teacher who had claimed to like Lily or James?  Mr. Lupin?  Dumbledore?!

People kept telling Harry that Dumbledore was wise and powerful, but Harry had not seen any evidence of that at all.  He hadn’t known that his groundskeeper was hiding a dragon on school grounds last year.  He hadn’t believed that someone was trying to kill Harry.

If that stupid, cryptic note that had come with the invisibility cloak that Harry still didn’t trust enough to use was accurate, then Dumbledore had  been close enough to James Potter to borrow a valuable family heirloom from him right when he and his family needed it most.

Bitterness welled in Harry’s throat at that thought.  Would his parents have been able to escape with him if they had had an invisibility cloak to keep them hidden that Halloween night?  What could possibly have been so important that it was worth leaving Harry and his family exposed?

“Harry?” Uncle Sev asked tentatively, “are you alright?”

“I think Dumbledore might be a bad person,” Harry admitted gravely.

Uncle Sev blinked and stared at Harry’s letter as if he could read it through the parchment.  “I… what made you come to that conclusion?  What did Mr. Malfoy say?”

“Sirius Black never got a trial.  You knew that already, right?  That’s why you warned me and wanted to talk?”

Uncle Sev nodded.  “I did, yes.  I fail to see the connection to the Headmaster.”

“Dumbledore had to know there wasn’t a trial.  He took my dad’s invisibility cloak when he knew we were being hunted and then when my parents got murdered, he did nothing to seek out justice.  Locking Black away like a dirty little secret isn’t enough.  He should have every one of his shameful actions blasted all over the papers.  His name should be a curse, like muggles talk about Judas, but until he escaped, almost everyone forgot he existed.  They forgot what he did to my mum and dad.  Dumbledore let that happen.”

Uncle Sev shifted his weight.  “It was a busy time…”

“Bullshit.  He was on the Wizengamot already back then, wasn’t he?  Everyone talks about him like a wartime general and strategist, but he hasn’t lifted a secret to keep me safe, and he happily hoards secrets like some Ravenclaw dragon, but he won’t use any of that knowledge or brainpower or whatever it is people idolize about him to actually do any good.  All he does is manipulate people and talk.  I… I think I kind of hate him.”

“Your feelings are certainly valid, Harry.  What did Mr. Malfoy say about the Headmaster?”

Confusion and defensiveness furrowed Harry’s brow.  “He didn’t mention Dumbledore, at all.  Most of the letter is about how Mr. Malfoy and you are going to keep me safe until Black is caught again, and how Mr. Malfoy will make sure he gets a proper trial this time.  Why are you taking Dumbledore’s side, all of a sudden?”

“I’m not, Harry.  I promise you, I’m not.  Albus is a flawed man, but he is the strongest weapon our society has against The Dark Lord, at the moment.  He might not be your friend, but it would be unwise to make an enemy of him, either.”

Harry folded his arms stubbornly.  “He started it.  And you seem awfully certain that Mr. Malfoy is the one telling me to make him my enemy, which he isn’t.  I can think for myself, thanks.”

“I apologize.  I should not have assumed.”

“Why did you assume?  Mr. Malfoy is really good at gathering allies.  He wouldn’t make a stupid mistake, like that.  He might even be more Slytherin than you are, so what gives?”

Professor Snape leaned back in his chair and massaged his eyelids. “This is not the way I expected this conversation to go.  You are correct Harry; Lucius Malfoy is a consummate Slytherin.  He sees everyone as allies, enemies, rivals, and pawns.  That is how he operates.”

“You think he sees me as a pawn.”

“I think he sees you as a potential ally, but you are still very young, Harry.  He has an advantage over you by experience alone.  Even if he does not mean to influence you consciously, he will inevitably try.  That is just who he is.  Not just with you, with everybody.”

Harry frowned.  “Rival or enemy?”

“What?”

“You said Mr. Malfoy sees people as rivals or enemies.  You clearly don’t think he and Dumbledore are friends, so which is it?  Rival or enemy?”

“Probably a bit of both.  Albus put a lot of effort behind attempting to convict Lucius of being a Death Eater.  I know that he is your friend’s father and that he has treated you well, but some of the evidence against him was quite compelling.  They have both disliked each other ever since.”

Harry squinted at Professor Snape, a sick bitterness churning in his gut.  “You don’t trust him.  Mr. Malfoy, I mean.  Even after everything he’s done for me, you don’t trust him.”

“There are very few people who I trust, Harry.  Your parents trusted Black.  Look where that got them.”

Harry watched Snape blanch the moment the words left his mouth, even as he was forced to realize that Professor Snape was right.  It must seem like the only logical choice to doubt everyone after living as a spy through the last war.

“I apologize,” Uncle Sev said hastily.  “That was out of line.”

No, it wasn’t.

Dread flooded Harry’s body, freezing him from the inside out and tipping the world sideways as he imagined how dreadful it would be if Mr. Malfoy or Draco or Uncle Sev betrayed him.

Like really betrayed him, the way Black had betrayed his mum and dad.

Had Harry’s parents realized, before they’d died, that their best friend had offered them up for the slaughter?  Had their hearts broken even as they had fought for their lives?  For Harry’s life?

“I just want Black to face justice,” Harry said firmly.  “I want him to be humiliated and broken and hated by everyone who forgot about him last time.  And after that, I want him to get a Dementor’s Kiss.  And I want to be there to watch.”

Uncle Sev nodded gravely.  “I will do everything within my power to see that happen, Harry.  I promise.”

Chapter Text

Draco had worn a solid inch-deep path into the stone floor outside of Professor Snape’s new office by the time Harry emerged.

“Is everything alright?” he asked anxiously, looking his friend over for signs of distress.  “You aren’t in trouble for anything, are you?”

Harry waved him off, looking distracted but resolved.  “Huh?  No, no, nothing like that.  Your dad wrote me a letter and Professor Snape wanted to be there when I read it.”

A twinge of jealousy plucked at Draco’ heart.  “Father wrote you and not me?  Why?”

Harry gave him an apologetic look.  “He found out that Sirius Black never got a trial.  He wanted me to know before he makes it public.”

Draco’s jealousy was quickly replaced by fear.  “Are you okay?  Do Professor Snape and Father already have a plan to keep you safe if Black gets acquitted?”

Harry scowled.  “They won’t let that happen.  I won’t let that happen.”

He sounded so sure, but Draco knew it wasn’t nearly that simple.  Justice was never that simple, no matter what idealistic grownups liked to say.

“It’s been a long time, Harry.  What if the evidence isn’t there anymore?  What if the aurors back then were too busy or lazy after the war to take proper notes and preserve everything?”

“I’ll petition them to interrogate him under veritaserum myself, if I have to.  Fudge has to know that burying this the first time is a scandal, but failing to bring justice now will ruin his career.  Even if he’s tempted to try it, he’ll have the Malfoy family, the Boy Who Lived, and the Hero of Hogwarts standing against him.  I’ll make sure Black looks me in the eyes as he is forced to admit what he did to my mum and dad.”

Draco bit nervously at a fingernail.  “I hope you’re right.  I don’t know if anyone has ever been tested with veritaserum after a decade of dementors chipping away at their sanity, before.  If I was Black’s solicitor, that would be the first angle I’d try.”

“Are you on my side or not?” Harry huffed.

Draco rolled his eyes.  “Of course, I am.  I’m problem solving.  To help you, dummy.  I don’t want Black to get off on a technicality any more than you do.”

“Yeah, yeah okay,” Harry conceded, running a hand through his messy hair.  “Maybe I can research veritaserum and the long-term effects of dementors on the human mind after lunch.  I want to look up the old articles about Black’s murder of Peter Pettigrew and all those muggles, too.  Maybe see if your dad can get a copy of the auror reports.  Even if Black wriggles out of a conviction for turning my parents over to the Dark Lord, there’s no way he can get out of that one.  He was caught red-handed.”

Good.  Keep Harry focused on problem-solving and doing something productive.

“Let’s make a deal,” Draco said, holding out his hand.  “I’ll help you research if you take a break and go flying with me tonight.  I’ve been explaining Dobby’s obstacle courses to Marcus and the elves here, and I’ve finally convinced them to give one a try.”

Harry smiled tentatively.  “Sounds like fun.  Thanks, Dray.  All of this Black stuff on top of Potions Club and quidditch and everything else has been a bit much, lately.  Sometimes I forget that I’m supposed to just be a kid.”

“Youngest in our year, and still the oldest twelve-year-old I know.”

Harry’s face fell.

“Sorry,” Draco said immediately, scrambling to figure out what he’d said wrong.  “I was just joking.”

Harry shook his head.  “It’s not that.  I just realised we have Defence, next.”

“So?”

A grim look settled over Harry’s features.  “I need to have a talk with Mr. Lupin.”

“…about Black?”

“About my parents’ so-called friend never realizing that their betrayer never stood trial for what he’s done.”

Oh.

“You think he knew but just didn’t say anything?”

Harry sighed.  “That would almost be better than not noticing at all.  If someone hurt you, I would be at the Ministry everyday wanting answers, demanding to testify.  Doing anything to help.  Lupin did nothing.”

“There were a lot of trials going on… not that I’m defending him!  Just playing Morgana’s advocate,” Draco hastily added, raising his hands to ward off Harry’s unimpressed glare.

“There was only one trial about my parents’ murders.  Or, there should have been one trial about them.  Everyone was so busy celebrating in the streets that The Dark Lord was gone that they didn’t even care that I’d been left an orphan, let alone that mum and dad never got the justice they deserved.”

Lowering his voice to a whisper, Draco leaned into Harry’s ear.  “Maybe someone lied to Lupin, someone who knew his secret.  Maybe he thought Black’s trial happened over a full moon, when he wasn’t able to testify, and couldn’t explain why not, in order to get the trial delayed.”

Harry’s glower intensified.  “Oh, Dumbledore had better hope that that’s not what happened.  I hate him enough, already.”

“You… do?”

“It’s a long story.  I’ll tell you after class.”

“Right,” Draco said.  “We’re running late.”

“Race you?”

Draco took off running, laughing recklessly until they started passing classrooms.

“Cheater,” Harry panted heavily as they slid into their seats just as Lupin entered the room.

Draco smirked.  “Don’t make a challenge if you aren’t ready to act on it.  Gotta be prepared.”

Harry rolled his eyes but smiled.

His refreshed mood did not last long.

The longer Lupin talked, the more distracted and subdued Harry got.

Draco had to poke him in the ribs more than once to remind him to at least pretend to be taking notes.

By the time class was over, Draco could feel the fight brewing within his friend.  “Can I stay with you?” he asked quietly as he gathered up his things, “or do you want me to wait outside?”

Harry gave him an apologetic smile.  “Wait for me.  Please?  I think I need to do this alone.”

Swallowing his disappointment, Draco nodded.  “Yeah, okay.  If I hear yelling, I’m coming in, though.”

“You don’t need to.”

“Yes, I do.”

Harry rolled his eyes.  “Fine, fine.  Deal.  It has to be real yelling, though.  Not just raised voices.  I don’t want to get distracted when I’m trying to make a point.”

Draco grinned.  “Avery’s insane for saying you don’t belong in Slytherin.”

“Yeah, yeah.  I’m conniving.  Get out of here.”

“Don’t take too long.”

Harry just winked and shooed him off.

Chapter Text

Puffing up his chest, Harry marched over to Mr. Lupin’s desk.

“I need to talk to you.”

Mr. Lupin nodded curtly.  “The Interim Headmaster informed me that you might.  Would you like to take a seat?”

Professor Snape had given Lupin a heads up?  Harry didn’t know what to think about that.  He decided that it was just a distraction, anyways.  He could worry about it later.

“No,” Harry said firmly, irritated by Lupin’s calm acceptance that Harry was upset.  It made Harry feel like he was being the bully, and he didn’t like that one bit.  “I’d rather stand.  Er…thanks, though.”

Mr. Lupin nodded mildly.  “What is this about, Harry?”

Harry bit back a frown.  If he’d been forewarned, surely, he must already know.  Coward.  “You want to be a part of my life, right?  Because my parents were your friends?”

“I do.”

Focus.

Squaring his shoulders, Harry leveled his coldest glare at the werewolf.  “Then I need to know why you did absolutely nothing to make sure that they got the public justice that they deserved.”

Lupin blinked and took a half step back, as if he were expecting a different accusation entirely.

Why were grownups always underestimating him?  Did that mean that Uncle Sev hadn’t betrayed Harry’s trust, after all?

“I… Black was in prison.  I thought justice had been done.”

Harry bared his teeth.  “Not good enough.  Until he escaped, people barely even remembered Black’s name, let alone what he did.  You should have made sure that people remembered.  Why didn’t you?”

“You know what people think of my condition, don’t you, Harry?  I was terrified that if I ruffled the wrong feathers, someone would take the wrong kind of interest in me.  I loved your parents, and Black’s betrayal was an icicle piercing my heart, but outing myself as less than human wouldn’t have helped anyone.”

“You’re a coward.”

“I’ve certainly spent most of my life thinking so.  Professor Snape has not been shy about voicing his agreement on the matter, either.  But I’ve also made Vows that put my own life in danger to keep the students of this school safe.  I am here on the front lines, willing to send my former best friend back to Azkaban or put him down permanently, if he leaves me no choice, in order to protect you.  So, let me ask you this: would you rather me slink back into the shadows to self-flagellate and drown myself in regrets or would you rather I step up now to honor your parents’ legacy by keeping you and Hogwarts safe?”

Oh, if Lupin thought he could trap Harry into a false dichotomy, he had another thing coming.  He hadn’t been sorted Slytherin yesterday.

“I want you to step up, of course.  That doesn’t mean I can’t be upset that you failed utterly ten years ago.  You have a pattern of behavior that I don’t like, Lupin.  Doing better now is great and all, but that doesn’t mean I’ll automatically trust you.  Too many adults have let me down for me to be that dumb.”

“Your Aunt and Uncle?” Lupin asked softly.

Harry snorted.  “They let me know early on to keep my expectations of them subterranean.  I’m more upset with the so-called heroes who keep promising the stars.”

“Professor Snape?”

“Dumbledore,” Harry snarled.

Lupin seemed surprised by both the name and by Harry’s vitriol.  “How has the Headmaster hurt you?”

Harry frowned, searching Lupin’s amber eyes for any hints.  This was dangerous territory.  Dumbledore was a powerful and charismatic man.  Badmouthing him to his sycophants would only paint a target on Harry’s back.  “Are you here for him or for me?  You’ve made a big show of wanting to be my friend, but I don’t know you.  I’m not telling you anything if you’re just going to report back to him.”

A snarl ripped from Lupin’s throat, making Harry flinch back a step while his heart pounded in his ears.  “After what happened with Lockhart?  I will never go to an adult behind a student’s back after they’ve made accusations against them.  If Dumbledore or anyone else has hurt you, tell me, and I’ll keep you safe.”

“Just like that?” Harry asked dubiously.

“Just like that.  Your safety comes first.  We can look for evidence and figure out other sides to the story once you’re out of harm’s way.  And after there are assurances that you won’t be placed back into the crossfire once the dust is settled.”

Harry still didn’t trust Lupin.  He was still not willing to lay all his cards on the table, lest the whole game explode in his face.  He needed a test, something relatively safe to see how Lupin would handle it.  Uncle Sev could keep an eye on Lupin, too.  Make sure there wasn’t another snake in the henhouse… or wolf in the sheep pasture.

“How much do you know about what happened with Quirrell last year?”

It was Lupin’s turn to scrutinize Harry.  “Mostly just what I read in the paper, for whatever that’s worth.  Did something else happen?”

“You should talk to Un… Professor Snape about it.  He’ll underplay how much of a hero he was, but he’ll be honest about what happened to me.  Tell me what you think about that and I’ll consider telling you the rest.”

“You don’t trust easily, do you?” Mr. Lupin said sadly.

Harry thought he could understand why.  Happy, well-adjusted children who had been raised in safety got to be that blindly stupid.  “My life hasn’t allowed me to throw my trust around carelessly.  I am open to allowing people to earn it, though.  People like Professor Snape and the Malfoys have proven themselves with actions and not just words.”

“Yes… the Malfoys.”

Harry’s jaw jutted out stubbornly.  “Yes.  The Malfoys.  I know what people say about them, you know.  I’m not stupid.  I’ve also seen Mrs. Malfoy spend hours being gracious to my horrid Aunt Petunia just so I can have some time with Draco during the summer.  I’ve seen Mr. Malfoy explain his point of view to me honestly, even when he knows I won’t like it, and listens to my side of things, too.  He’s explained why he is the way that he is.  Most adults don’t bother to do that.

“And Draco, he’d die for me.  I know he would.  He’s the best friend anyone could ask for.”

“I once thought Sirius Black would die for me, too.  And for Peter and James.  Just be careful.  Old blood prejudices run deep.  Deeper than I once thought possible.  If Black could betray your dad, no friendship is invincible.”

“And you think I’m not very trusting,” Harry snorted, rolling his eyes.  “Anything might be possible, but Draco betraying me isn’t probable, and I can’t live my life expecting a knife in the back from the few people who have proven themselves to be my allies.  That way lies madness.”

Lupin raised his hands defensively.  “I just don’t want to see you get hurt, but I get your point.  I’m not trying to break up your friendships.”

“And I’m not icing you out permanently.  I’m just not going to trust someone who hid away while my parents’ betrayer was forgotten about and I was banished to a lonely, isolated childhood without expecting a little proof that you’re willing to fight for me up front.  You already failed them; I’m not going to give you the opportunity to fail me, too, until you’ve earned it.  Same as the Malfoys, and same as Professor Snape.”

Lupin surprised Harry by holding out his hand.  “Very well.  I accept your terms.”

Harry paused long enough to think through the ramifications before nodding and grabbing hold of Lupin’s hand, giving it a single, firm shake.  “Deal.”