Harry was miffed. Snape, after having been somewhat kinder in detention, had gone right back to being unbearable in class. Harry knew that the older wizard had explained to him, multiple times, that it was necessary, but that didn’t mean that he had to like it. It was terribly difficult to look at someone you had previously considered safe and not react as they said anything they could think of to hurt you.

Well, not anything perhaps. Snape knew quite a lot about him, after all. But still. Harry was not pleased. And part of the beauty of life was that he did not have to be pleased. He didn’t have any parents or anyone to force him to be reasonable about this. He was free to go on being as angry as he possibly could be at Snape and Dumbledore.

This was not quite as satisfying as it should have been, but Harry thought it would do in a pinch. He was careful not to think too directly about his reasoning though. It was better not to have to deal with it at the moment, and any time he thought about not having parents now his mind sort of slipped sideways to godparents and why he didn’t have any of those any more either.

The red ink staring up at him from his recently-returned Potions essay wasn’t helping matters in the slightest. The only consolation that he had was that apparently no one had done particularly well on this essay, excepting Hermione, of course, and Snape had ordered everyone to rewrite them and hand them back in. With all the corrections made on his original, Harry figured it wouldn’t be too difficult to figure out which parts he needed to fix. Like all of it.

He had spent a solid three hours researching this paper and writing up the rough draft. That was in addition to the time he had spent doing the required reading and the suggested background reading for the class, and fulfilling similar requirements for his other courses. He had seriously considered only focusing on Defense Against the Dark Arts, but in the end he had decided against it. The prophecy had said that he had a power the Dark Lord knew not, but at the moment he hadn’t the slightest idea what that power was either. He didn’t want to take a chance on missing the skills or knowledge he needed to do Tom in just because he hated a professor.

Harry thunked his head down on the table. A few minutes later Ron sat down beside him. “You know, mate, if you’re that tired, you could quit studying this hard,” he commented. “Honestly, you’re getting to be as bad as Hermione.”

Harry tilted his head to the side so that he could look at his friend without actually sitting back up. “I’m not tired,” he protested. “I’m distraught.”

“Distraught?” Ron looked dubious and slightly amused at this claim.

“Yeah,” Harry sat up and gestured expansively at his essay. “I have to rewrite that.”

Ron glanced over the offending scrap of parchment and whistled, garnering a frown from Madame Pince. “You know, it’s moments like this that I’m really glad I didn’t get into that class.”

“That’s so helpful,” Harry drawled. “I’ll probably have to stay up late tomorrow finishing this.”

“Well, look at it this way,” Ron slung a friendly arm around Harry’s shoulders. “There’s always Saturday morning.”

“Erm, yeah,” Harry said.

“What’s up?” Ron asked, ears pricking up.

“Well, see, Malfoy invited me to go flying again on Saturday morning.” Harry glanced at the redhead out of the corner of his eye.

Ron sat very quietly for a moment before nodding. “All right, Sunday morning, then. I’ll make sure no one wakes you up.”

Harry turned to look fully at him. “You don’t mind?” he asked.

“A little, I suppose. But I understand.”

“You could come, you know,” Harry suggested. “There’s nothing to stop you now. I don’t care if Malfoy gets offended.”

“Nah. I don’t think I could manage to get along with Ferret-face for an extended period, and then you wouldn’t have any fun at all. Besides which, it would mess up our plans, and you wouldn’t find out why he’s asked you again.” Ron shook his head. “I’ll just meet up with you at breakfast.”

Harry flashed Ron a grateful smile. “If there’s any breakfast to be had, you mean, by the time you get finished.”

“I’m a growing young man, Harry,” Ron said sagely. “And besides, if you’re late, you deserve to miss out,” he teased. Harry grinned at him.

“Listen, Harry mate, Neville and Ginny and Hermione and I are having dinner in a bit. You want to come and join us?”

“Yeah, sure,” Harry replied. Schoolwork was all well and good, but even considering his recent vow to succeed he saw no reason to skip dinner with friends. He needed to keep his strength up, right? And maybe it would get his mind off Snape.

---

Madame Malfoy,

I hope this finds you well. I know that this is a difficult time for your family, and I would like to speak with you about your son, Draco. He is coping quite well and his behavior is, as always, a model to the rest of the school, however I feel it might be beneficial for us to meet so that I may be of the most help to him. You will forgive me, I hope, for not requesting this meeting sooner, however I did not wish to intrude on your family’s time together, nor did I wish to remind you of your sorrows until they had had a chance to abate somewhat. If I may suggest that you meet me here at Hogwarts? Perhaps next Saturday, at approximately 9 o’clock?

I await your reply.

Your servant,

S. Snape

---

Narcissa looked up from the letter and gazed out the window at her magically blooming garden with unseeing eyes. Severus’s letter was vague and couched in thoroughly polite terms, but she was still relieved that her husband had not been at home when she received it. Lucius was very sensitive about anything concerning his son, and he would have expected a full report.

If however, she made it appear that she was instigating this contact, that she missed Draco and was worried about him, well, it wouldn’t be the first time such a thing had happened. Her son might not be aware of that, but then what boy wanted his mother hanging about and getting in the way? Just as well that he didn’t know.

Narcissa tapped one elegantly pointed fingernail against her cheek. She would reply at once, she decided, in the affirmative. But she would ask Severus to change the meeting time to eight and suggest that they disillusion themselves and take a walk around the grounds.

---

On Saturday morning Harry woke early. He wasn’t at all certain why he was awake for several long minutes, but he then remembered that he had agreed to go flying with Malfoy again. For another few moments he seriously considered not going, his conversations with Ron and Hermione notwithstanding, but then he thought about how nice it would be to get on his broom, to cut cleanly through the crisp (all right, cold!) morning air, to feel as though he was detached from all of the petty difficulties that plagued him when he was ground-bound.

Besides, maybe the exercise would help re-invigorate him. He’d been feeling a bit off-color lately and he couldn’t think why. Probably he just needed to go out and do something.

---

Draco was actually surprised to see Potter striding briskly onto the field. He was even more surprised to find that he was, ever-so-slightly, pleased to see his rival. As the brunette approached, Draco brought his broom to the ground in front of his yearmate with considerable skill. “I didn’t think you were coming,” he remarked casually.

“I woke up,” Harry shrugged.

“Tag?” Draco quirked an eyebrow up.

“Sure.” Harry lunged for Draco without warning, but just as suddenly Draco stepped back, avoiding his grasping hands.

The blonde leapt into the air. “You’re supposed to wait until you’re actually on your broom, Potter,” he chastised from a safe distance.

Harry just shrugged again. “Muggles play on the ground,” he said as he followed Malfoy into the air.

“We are not muggles.”

“So what? If you’re afraid that I’ll beat you…” Harry trailed off.

“Certainly not,” Draco sniffed haughtily. “After all, you can’t even catch me on a broom, can you?” Harry raised his own eyebrow and took off after the suddenly fleeing Slytherin.

---

Severus could not help thinking of Narcissa’s letter as he watched her son file into his classroom with the rest of the sixth year NEWT class. Her suggestions for alterations to his plans had been well-considered and he had had a few bad moments when he couldn’t help wondering if his intentions were that obvious. He had concluded, however, that he was over-thinking the situation and that Narcissa was only being prudent, a trait far more people of the world could stand to develop, particularly that group which spent much of its time surrounded by crimson and gold.

With that remembered thought, Severus’s eyes traveled, almost against his will, to one Harry Potter. He remembered to scowl even as he did so, and he was rewarded with an answering glare. He held the look for a few beats, then sneered and turned away.

Sometimes, he considered, his life was a little too much like that ridiculous muggle spy-novel he had confiscated from one of the Ravenclaw students. Severus shook his head imperceptibly and brought his thoughts back in line. That little mental vacation was over and he could only thank Merlin that it had happened at a time when his lack of concentration was not fatal.

He turned firmly back to the business at hand and brought the class to order. If these students were going to be ready to sit his exams, let alone the Nastily Exhausting Wizarding Tests, there was a lot of work to do.

---

Harry was on time this morning. He had felt quite thoroughly refreshed after his morning flight last week, and the week just gone had been tough. Harry had been taking his vow to study more quite seriously. Nearly every spare moment had been devoted to extra reading.

This didn’t mean that he didn’t spend time with his friends anymore. They had a tendency to drag him off whenever they felt like it, particularly the Weasleys, but he had been quite diligent. Even Hermione had commented on it.

Today, he needed a break, he decided. Surely it wouldn’t hurt anything to put aside his books and go for a quick flight. Besides, if Ron caught him studying this early, well, it wouldn’t be pretty. Harry dressed quickly and snatched up his broom on the way out the door. He was looking forward to this.

---

Narcissa glanced around as she and Severus strolled the grounds of Hogwarts. It was quite nostalgic, except that during her school years she wouldn’t have been caught dead walking with Severus Snape. The Malfoy matron shook her head. Youth was such a silly time, and yet it held an inexplicable charm for so many.

So far they had spoken only of inconsequentials. The weather (allowed to be fair), the price of salamander tails in Diagon Alley (up for no discernable reason), how the goblins were faring during the turbulent times (well, as nearly always). They neared the Quidditch Pitch now, expecting it to be deserted at this still-early hour. Perhaps they could finally come to the real reason that Severus had invited her here.

To Narcissa’s surprise, there were, in fact, two figures already in the air. They flew well, she could see that even from a distance, performing loops, spirals, swerves, and dives with ease and grace. “Surely there isn’t a team practice scheduled now? I should have thought all the students would be still asleep, or possibly breakfasting?”

Severus cocked his head slightly. The privacy charm they used functioned much like a disillusionment charm for outsiders, but allowed him to see Narcissa clearly, and vice versa. He strongly suspected that it had been developed to allow trysts and was thankful that most students had never heard of it. “I did not realize that they had re-instituted their tradition.”

“Which tradition?” Sometimes Severus was a little too evasive for his own good, she decided.

“Your son and Harry Potter met Saturdays last term to fly. Apparently they have decided to do so this term as well.”

Narcissa examined Severus closely from the corner of her eye before turning to look at him fully. “My son?” she asked. “Are you certain you haven’t gotten him confused with someone else? So far as I know, my son despises Harry Potter and is unfortunately vocal about it.”

Severus permitted himself a small smile. “Yes, I’m quite certain that it is your son, Draco.” He paused. “I understand that he originally instigated the practice at his father’s behest, but I am aware of no such prompting this time.” Narcissa nodded and watched the two youths. Her son was growing up more everyday. “He is a fine young man,” Severus said. “A credit to you.”

Narcissa did not even glance over. “He is far more his father’s son than mine.”

“Are you certain? I was quite sure I detected your influence.”

This time Narcissa did look at him. “Did you really?”

Severus didn’t miss a beat before replying. “He has your grace. He has grown up much in the last several months.” He turned to meet her eyes.

She searched his face for a long moment before she turned away again. “Why did you really ask me to come here, Severus?” she asked.

He was silent for a time. “At the end of the summer you met Molly Weasley, nee Prewett, in Diagon Alley. You spoke to her. What did you say?”

“Anything I said to Molly was between Molly and me, as you well know. As it happens, however, we spoke of our children.”

“It might surprise you to know, then, that I have spoken to Molly myself.” He paused. “Your stories do not quite match up.” He looked up at her, but she remained coolly unmoved.

“Are you denigrating my integrity, Severus?” she asked with an almost-smile stretching her lips.

“Of course not, I wouldn’t dare,” he returned. “However, I cannot help wondering why you feel the need to dissemble.”

“Do you truly?”

“Would it help if I told you what Molly told me? You said that I could not be trusted. That Madame Weasley should be careful of all of her children around me.” He examined her for a moment, but she made no reply, verbal or otherwise. “What if I told you,” he began, surreptitiously fingering his wand, “that I could be trusted?”

“Ah, but trusted by whom?” That same half-smile was on her lips again. This time, Severus returned it.

“I admit that my credibility seems to be low in some camps at this moment.”

“And in other camps it is always low.”

Severus inclined his head, “As you say, Madame Malfoy.” He paused before appearing to change the subject. “I am surprised that you were not more aware of young Draco’s activities,” Severus said as he watched the young wizards in the air beyond him.

“A young man does not always confide in his mother.”

“But a man will often confide in his wife.”

“I have not seen Lucius lately.”

“Have you not? Come, Madame, must we continue to preserve this polite fiction? We both know that the lord of the manor has returned to it for the same reason that you were able to warn your kinswoman.”

“What are you suggesting, Severus?”

“An exchange of information.”

“You wish me to betray my lord?”

“I wish to be kept better informed of what my duties may be or may become. In return, I would be pleased to keep you more abreast of your son’s activities.”

“I grow weary, Severus. At what point does a power pursued cease to be attractive? When is it no longer worth acquiring?”

“When is the loss no longer acceptable?”

She looked at him. “I want peace for my son. I want him to be strong and successful.”

“I want the same for all of my students.” He placed a subtle, nearly indistinguishable accent on the word all. It would not have been noticeable unless one was listening for it. As it happened, however, Narcissa Malfoy was listening for it.

She was silent for some time, considering his offer. It would be dangerous, she knew, but she was no longer absolutely convinced that the path she had chosen as a young witch was the correct one. It was suspected in many circles that Severus’s loyalties were divided. Given the way their conversation had gone, Narcissa doubted that division. It was just a matter of which he had truly pledged himself to. But did it really matter, either way? If he supported one side, there would be no change. A little more danger added to that of being married to a servant of the Dark Lord. If Severus supported the other side, that small danger would be larger, but not greatly so. Pain and death were still pain and death. And either way, Severus would take great care to guard his source, at least until she was no longer useful to him. She would choose what to pass on. No matter which side Severus was truly working for, her information would find its way, in whole or in part, to the right ears.

Narcissa Malfoy loved her son dearly, she always had. Lucius had always claimed that she weakened the boy, but she wondered now how true that statement was. Draco was far more credulous on some subjects than she would have believed possible. That naivety could be taken advantage of, a dangerous situation for any young man to find himself in, and one that was particularly hazardous for Draco.

She had not realized how much she had been separated from Draco until the separation was gone, and now that she had her son back, she would be damned if she would give him up again. Narcissa looked up at her son, flying peaceably, even enjoying it! With a halfblood, no less, though still one that was destined to change the magical world. Who would have thought it? She nodded in acknowledgement of Severus’s offer, and in agreement.