“List five benefits of nonverbal spells in peaceful situations.”

“Why would I need nonverbal spells in peaceful situations?” Ron asked in between spoonfuls of pudding. “No point.”

“There is a point,” said Hermione exasperatedly. She waved several sheets of study notes in front of Ron’s nose. “Hence the question.”

Ron batted them away. “Yeah, well, it’s a stupid question. If I’m not being attacked, I can just say the spell. Out loud.”

Hermione raised her eyes to the ceiling and turned to Harry. “It’s going to be on the exam. Tell him.”

“How’s he supposed to know what’s on the exam?” groused Ron without giving Harry a chance to answer. “It’s not like he gets advanced copies. Wait. Do you?” He eyed Harry with sudden interest.

Harry’s eyebrows shot up. “What? No! How would I even do that?”

“You’re Brooks’s favorite,” said Ron matter of factly. “Everyone knows that.”

“Am not,” Harry grumbled. He shoved a bite of pudding in his mouth and looked about at the other stragglers in the Great Hall. Most of the students had left straight after lunch, and Harry liked the Great Hall like this, buzzing with conversation but without the loud din of mealtimes.

“It’s going to be on the exam,” Hermione said emphatically. “Do you know how I know? Because Professor Brooks specifically told us to study nonverbal spells because, and I quote, ‘it will be on the exam.’” She turned to Harry. “List five benefits of nonverbal spells in peaceful situations.”

“Um… Well, it’d be useful to use a freshening charm on the down-low when I’m next to a cute girl.” He shrugged.

“Oh.” Ron perked up. “That’s a good point.”

Hermione moaned. “Did either of you study?”

“’Mione, don’t worry,” Harry grinned. “I’m only teasing.” He listed the five benefits out loud, and Hermione immediately let out a breath of relief and moved on to the next question. By the time they left for Transfiguration, it was apparent that while Ron wasn’t ready for tomorrow’s DADA exam, Harry was, and so Hermione was at least partly satisfied.

All things considered, he was having a very good Thursday. It was nice to have everything out in the open with Snape, even though it had been nerve-wracking to get there. The professor had helped him with a sleeping spell the previous night so that he would be well rested before beginning some new mental exercises tonight. Already, the sleep had done wonders for his mood. Even Ron and Hermione were smiling more in response to Harry’s high spirits.

When he managed to transfigure an apple core into a simple, sturdy footrest after only three tries, he smiled in delight. McGonagall gave him a nod of approval and moved on to assist Lavender, whose footrest had begun to growl at her chair. By the time the class was over, he was ready to cap off the day with some time by the lake with his friends. But before he could collect his things, McGonagall stopped him with a brisk wave forward. “A word, Mr. Potter.”

He shuffled to the front of the classroom as the last of his classmates filed out. McGonagall studied him critically for a moment, and he felt a twinge of nervousness. He hadn’t done anything, had he? Well. Anything recently.

She sat behind her desk and motioned for him to pull up a chair. “It has been brought to my attention, Mr. Potter, that I have been remiss in my duties.” Her pinched lips showed her disdain for that suggestion, but still she asked, “How are you faring in your classes?”

Oooh. Snape had got to her. He wasn’t sure whether to be embarrassed or amused. “Good,” he assured her. “I’m all caught up.”

“And you haven’t had any trouble catching on to the material?” she asked.

“No,” He shook his head. “Not too much, anyway. It’s been a lot of work, but Hermione lent me her notes and Ron and the others studied with me.”

“Good. Thank you, Mr. Potter,” she said with a vindicated gleam in her eye, “for proving the point that my Gryffindors are perfectly capable of maintaining academic standards without incessant hand-holding.”

“Um. You’re welcome?”

McGonagall gave him a satisfied nod. She seemed poised to change the subject, but first he felt the need to explain, however ineloquently, that, “I didn’t complain. To him. About you. Just so you know. He’s just…Snape. Professor Snape, I mean. He’s…him. Gets an idea in his head. You know.”

McGonagall’s lips quirked into an almost-smile. “Yes. I do know.” She eyed him contemplatively for a few seconds. “I am going to take the liberty of speaking openly about a colleague, Mr. Potter. It will not happen often, so do pay attention.”

Harry nodded, curious.

“Professor Snape possesses an intensity of focus that has served him well in becoming one of the youngest and possibly the most accomplished Potions master of his generation. I admire that level of dedication, even if I do not always approve of what he chooses to focus his energies on. This time, I must say that I approve, however inconvenient I foresee that it may be for me on occasion,” she said with a wry twist to her lips. “Only, please do be aware that when Professor Snape commits to a flight path, he occasionally forgets to pull up on the broom.”

“O-okay.” Harry scratched his chin, puzzling out that last bit.

She learned forward and explained, “He meddles because he cares, Mr. Potter. And it is very rare for him to care enough to meddle for the benefit of a student. When you inevitably chafe under that singular focus of his, remember that he means well. Generally. In your case, at the very least. So it appears.”

“Yes, ma’am,” He answered and grinned.

“Now,” she said briskly, all business. “Professor Snape has informed me that you have a detention to serve. Is that correct?”

He flushed and nodded.

“Very well. You will report to my office tomorrow evening at seven o’clock. Understood?”

“Yes, professor.”

“Good.” She stood and handed him a small folded piece of paper.

Opening it, he read flaming frisbees written in a familiar pen. He looked up. “The headmaster?”

She nodded. “He wishes to see you directly.”

By the time he gathered his books and headed for the headmaster’s office, his friends were nowhere to be found. They had probably waited for a few minutes, but by now they would be back in the Tower. By the time he rapped his knuckles on the door to Dumbledore’s office, his mind was on the game of wizard’s chess he and Ron had left unfinished that morning. He hoped Dumbledore didn’t plan on keeping him long. He’d like to finish the game before dinner, because he’d be with Snape most of the evening.

“Enter,” he heard, and it didn’t occur to him to wonder why it wasn’t Dumbledore’s voice speaking until he’d opened the door and come face to face with Remus. He stopped in his tracks. The headmaster was nowhere to be seen. Remus was sitting in one of the chairs in front of the desk, turned to face Harry, smiling a nervous smile and tapping a beat on the floor with the toe of his shoe.

He had an immediate, selfish impulse to slam the door in the man’s face. See how he liked being ignored. Instead, he carefully closed it behind him and waited for Remus to say something. It didn’t take long.

“Hello, Harry,” he said simply. “How are you?”

“Did Dumbledore make you come here?” It was rude. He couldn’t bring himself to care.

“No,” Remus answered, but Harry could tell by the man’s chagrined look that he was on the right track.

“Snape, then,” he said knowingly, and an answering wince told him that he was right.

Remus stood. “Harry, listen…”

“Oh, that’s right. You get to show up whenever you want me to listen, never mind about when I want to talk,” he said bitterly. He sounded like a bratty child, he knew, but he couldn’t quite stop himself.

Remus held up a placating hand. “I know you’re angry. You have every right to be. It shames me every day what I did to you that day. Please believe that I wasn’t myself.”

Harry scrunched up his face. “Are you talking about Kneader’s?” he asked incredulously.

“Of course.”

Harry’s anger reached a tipping point, and he took two deep breaths to stave off the impulse to yell. It didn’t work. “I’m not angry about Kneader’s, Remus!” he yelled. “I’m not an idiot. I didn’t blame you for what happened for one second! I knew the instant you cursed me that you weren’t you. I’m angry because you took off and avoided me because you were too much of a coward to come talk to me about it after!”

“Harry…” Sadness was clear in Remus’s voice, which made Harry even more angry, because it reminded him how much he had missed him, and how fragile his anger was and how quickly it could dissipate and he would forgive Remus. And yes, he knew how unreasonable it was to be angry that he couldn’t be angry, but such was life as a teenager, he supposed. He walked around to the side of Dumbledore’s office, where he could pace without getting too close. He was too afraid he’d ruin his show of temper by accidentally hugging the idiot.

“Did you even think about coming to see me on your own?” he asked, mortified when his voice broke. “Did Snape have to threaten you to get you here? Probably brought you by wandpoint, didn’t he? Or maybe he just sneered at you. You’ve always stood up to him pretty well, but I know how intimidating he can be. I always used to think you were the brave one and he was the coward, you know. Turns out I was wrong about both of you,” he spat. The room fell silent. “I didn’t mean that,” he admitted after a minute, not looking at Remus.

Remus sighed. “Yes. You did. And I can’t say that I blame you.”

Harry eyed the man through his fringe.

“Please sit,” Remus said gently as he took his own seat. “I realize that I am late, but I hope that I am not too late?”

Harry inched his way over and perched stiffly on the edge of the offered chair.

Remus sighed. “I really do apologize.”

“For which part?” challenged Harry.

“For the running away like a coward and not talking to you part. It was very ill done of me.”

And just like that, Harry deflated. Perhaps he had gotten too used to dealing with Snape, with his mental walls and that emotional cold front that he had to work hard to chip away at. Not that it wasn’t worth chipping away at. But still. He’d forgotten how easy Remus was to talk to, how easy it was to get him to understand. Not so easy to get him within a mile of Harry when he really needed him, sure, but once he was there, it was easy to get him to listen.

“I never blamed you for what happened that day,” Harry insisted, pleading with his eyes for Remus to get it. “Really. But I wanted to know how you were. It must have been awful, being controlled by Voldemort like that, and I only wanted to find out if you were okay, and you didn’t let me. You left. Again. Like you always do. Why do you keep doing that?”

“I…I don’t know.” Remus swallowed and looked away. “I suppose…you are right. I am a coward, in many respects. I learned early on as someone who was…different that it was easier to make my own way, not depend on anyone and not have anyone depend on me. Avoidance became my default. Then you came along, and then Sirius returned to me…” He looked at Harry with a sad smile. “I saw how close you and Sirius became. When he died, and I mourned him all over again, and I saw how much you missed him, that we had that in common…for…for the first time, I had the thought that I could be there for someone. Like Sirius had been for you. Perhaps we could form as close to a family as either one of us might have otherwise.” He shook his head in self-reproach. “I was naive.”

“’Cause you didn’t know how?” Harry asked softly.

“Yes,” agreed Remus. “In part.” He hesitated.

“And because you didn’t really want to,” added Harry. He cut off the man’s weak protest. “It’s okay, Remus. I love you, you know I do. But I didn’t want to either. Still don’t.”

Remus huffed a laugh. “I suppose I should be offended by that.”

“It’s okay.” Harry smiled. “I’m not offended either.”

Remus returned his smile before he quickly sobered up. “But I wish to clarify one point, Harry. You are not unimportant to me. My…my avoidance is not correlated to anything you’ve done. It’s-”

“It’s not me, it’s you?” Harry cut in with a raised eyebrow. “You’re really going there?”

Remus cringed. “Well. Yes?” He laughed dryly and rubbed a hand over his eyes. “You see, this is one reason I am ill equipped to be what you need. You see through me, Harry, into every line, every insincerity that I don’t even know I possess until you point it out. You see it all. And you never hesitate to call me out on it.”

“Sorry,” he said automatically, not sure if he meant it or not.

“Don’t be,” smiled Remus. “It’s good for me. Forces me to cut the bullsh- I mean...”

“Remus. I’m sixteen.” He rolled his eyes. “You can curse in front of me.”

Remus laughed. “You see? You, Harry Potter, are a straight shooter. You are unflinchingly honest, in the best way. You deserve such honesty in return.” He shook his head in self-reproach. “And I. I have made a habit of lying to even myself. I tell myself that I can do something, that I will be better, and at the first sign of trouble, I retreat to my old ways.”

“You could be better,” nudged Harry gently, “if you really wanted to.”

“Yes,” he answered with a sad smile. “But I think that I need to do so for myself first. Not for you or for anyone else.”

“Yeah,” agreed Harry slowly. “Yeah, that’s a good idea, I think.”

“And besides, I am pleased to know that you have plenty of people looking out for you.”

Harry nodded. He couldn’t argue with that. He had amazing friends and some pretty decent teachers, too. “How did Snape get you here?” he felt comfortable enough to ask. “Please don’t tell me he threatened you.”

“No. Ah,” Remus rubbed at the back of his neck and admitted, “Perhaps a little. However, I highly doubt he would have truly discontinued my Wolfsbane Potion or spelled poison into my tea.”

Harry raised an eyebrow. “I dunno about that. How many years have you known him?”

Remus quirked his lips into a smile. “Long enough to know that the poison would not be deadly. Nevertheless, he won his case with an appeal to my better nature. Didn’t know he had it in him, to be honest. Told me I was doing a disservice to you. That you had gone through a lot this summer, and my ignoring the situation was only standing in the way of your dealing with the trauma. Is that true?” he asked, sincerity in his eyes. “Are you coping all right?”

Harry hesitated, not only because he wasn’t sure of the answer - he both was and wasn’t coping well - but also because he wasn’t sure he wanted to confide in Remus about it. He’d rather discuss it with Snape. Snape was the one who understood, and who had solutions. He was the one Harry trusted to be there for him when the going got tough.

Remus…well, he was a friend. Even if Harry only saw him one day out of the year, he would always be a friend. But that was all.

“I’m doing okay,” he said with a smile.

That was all, and it was enough for the both of them.

It was difficult to wait until evening to see Snape, and in the end he knocked at the door to the Potions classroom a full twenty minutes early for their lesson.

“Eager today, are we?” came a voice from down the hallway, and he swiveled toward it, startled. Snape was walking toward him, robes billowing behind him, from the direction of his personal quarters.

“I, uh…” He swept his eyes over the classroom door and back to the professor. “Sorry. You weren’t at dinner, and…I know you said you professors don’t live in your classrooms, but I keep, um, forgetting.”

“I suppose that is somewhat understandable,” Snape gave a sardonic twist to his lips as he opened the classroom door and gestured for Harry to follow him in. “Sometimes I forget I don’t live here.”

He hesitated in the doorway. “I can come back. If you’re busy…”

“I have no objection to your company, so long as you have no objection to my getting a few things in order before we begin.” Snape gestured to a chair in front of his desk, then took a seat behind it. He busied himself straightening a stack of essays while Harry entered and closed the door behind him.

It was funny, he reflected as he made his way to the chair, how different the classroom felt now than it did in years past. He had always before felt dread and irritation when he stepped foot here. Now, he felt comfort and familiarity. The cold that had once felt so oppressive now felt refreshing. If anything, it invigorated him for his lesson.

And then there was Snape. He didn’t know precisely when he’d stopped seeing that hooked nose and those crooked teeth as ugly. He hardly even noticed the greasy hair anymore. He even considered that maybe it wasn’t quite as bad as he’d always imagined. Snape certainly didn’t smell like he didn’t know how to use shampoo. Too much time spent among steaming cauldrons, perhaps? Whatever the reason for that particular flaw, Snape was no longer ugly. He could not be characterized as a handsome man, perhaps, but his face was pleasant in its familiarity. Harry knew the lines on his forehead like the back of his own hand. He didn’t yet know how to decipher all of the emotions behind his eyes, some of which he had never seen before these past few weeks, but he would learn. He already knew so many of his gestures, and all the different ways he could communicate without speaking.

Like now, how his eyes were pinched, like he was in pain but was trying not to let on. And how he was watching him, with his head barely cocked to the side, clearly communicating that he knew Harry had something on his mind and was waiting for him to come out with it.

“Your Dark Mark is worse.” He didn’t have to ask. He could tell by the very fact that Snape was getting worse at hiding it.

Snape only hesitated a beat before saying, “It is nothing I cannot handle.”

“How?”

“Pardon?”

“How are you handling it?”

“I don’t see how that is your concern.”

Harry slumped back into his seat and wrinkled his nose. “Not my concern? Really? After everything? I know you don’t want me to help help, but I’d still like to help, if I can. Or at least…share the burden? Something. I don’t like seeing people I care about in pain.” He bit his lip and ducked his head. Perhaps he shouldn’t be embarrassed after all they’d been through together - he hadn’t kept it a secret lately that he cared about Snape, after all - but he hadn’t meant for the words to come tumbling out like that.

After a few seconds of silence, Snape relented, his voice soft. “I have a salve.”

“A salve?” He peeked up through his fringe.

Snape nodded. “Those first weeks after our return, I spent every spare moment researching remedies and brewing potions. None were at all advantageous. It was…frustrating, to say the least. I finally developed a salve that takes the edge off, albeit minimally. But I must use it intermittently or else it loses its efficacy.”

“Does the Mark hurt all the time?”

“Yes.” The way he said it made it clear that he didn’t want pity, so Harry did his best not to show any. Only, he felt bad that he was taking up Snape’s time and energies with his problems when Snape had problems of his own. He should probably let Snape off the hook, tell him he didn’t have to do these lessons. Not that that was an option that he wanted to consider. He needed Snape’s help. He only hated thinking it might be causing Snape more pain, and less rest…

“Stop,” Snape snapped.

“Huh? I wasn’t doing anything.”

“You were doing that thing you do.” Snape waved his hand in a wide circle in Harry’s direction. “Where you blame yourself for something that isn’t your fault. Stop. It’s a ridiculous habit.”

Harry started to deny it but stopped at Snape’s knowing look. “Fine. Well, but…I mean, it’s not like none of it is my fault,” he argued. “You got found out because of me, and You-Know-Who is more angry and more powerful because of me. And-” He faltered as he thought of something. “Does it matter if I say his name now? Would it cause more pain, or would it not matter, ‘cause the Mark already…I dunno, activated or whatever?”

Snape looked thrown, like he didn’t know which part to respond to first, and Harry answered his own question. “Guess it doesn’t matter. I won’t test it,” and went on as if he hadn’t been sidetracked. “And I really appreciate you helping me and all, but it’s causing a lot of extra work for you. So maybe I am blaming myself a bit, and of course it’s not all my fault, but you can’t say none of it’s my fault, can you? Objectively,” he tacked on, because Snape loved objective facts.

“I most certainly can,” argued Snape right back. “But I am not going to sit here and list again all the ways that the Dark Lord’s murderous intentions are not the fault of an innocent boy he’s targeted since before his birth. You are intelligent enough to know better,” he scolded and then muttered, “even if your propensity toward self-flagellation is so ingrained. So in lieu of all that, allow me to state unequivocally that I am here because I want to be. While tutoring you may require additional work on my part, I welcome the challenge and the distraction. Let us consider the matter closed.”

Harry nodded, too relieved to feel chastised.

Snape sat back and examined him until he appeared satisfied. “How are you feeling today? Rested? Tonight we will work entirely on exercises to promote a restful pre-sleep state, but your mind should be alert enough to properly focus.”

“Yeah. I’m good. Really,” he added at Snape’s probing look. “But could-” he hesitated. “Could we…talk more first?”

“Something is the matter?” Snape frowned.

“No. No, nothing. I’d just like…to talk.”

“Certainly.” The professor nodded his head, steepled his fingers, and waited for Harry to talk.

Which…no pressure or anything. He looked around. “Not about anything in particular…” He just…well, wanted to talk. With Snape. Because he could. Because something about talking with him after a long day of school relaxed him.

“Ah.” Snape unsteepled his fingers and tapped out a rhythm on the desk. “Well then. I had something I wished to discuss with you.”

“Yeah?” Harry sat up, curious.

“I do realize that it is short notice, but if you are agreeable, I thought that we might take a Portkey to Kneader’s Point in the morning.”

Harry grinned. “Really?”

Snape inclined his head. “Mr. Kneader is amenable to company.”

“That’s great! I mean, yes. Yes, I’m agreeable.”

“Good. We will leave after breakfast and return mid-afternoon.”

He managed to keep himself from bouncing in his seat, but only barely. It wasn’t very often that he got to go on a trip of his choosing. Even if it was only to see a snake and have a glimpse of the sea, it was exciting.

Snape seemed pleased by his reaction. He then asked a little too casually, “You cleared the air with Lupin?”

“Uh, yeah.” He and Remus had talked for a while, and it felt good, like another weight had lifted off his chest. In many ways, their chat had been a goodbye. To each other for the foreseeable future, but also to the idea that Remus could somehow be a larger part of Harry’s life. And he was fine with that. Glad, even, because now they knew what to expect from each other. It was like a release for them both.

“It…it was good. To see him. To talk. Thank you,” he said earnestly, “for threatening him with poison to get him here.”

Snape harrumphed. “Is that what he told you?”

“Did he lie?” Harry asked with a knowing glance.

“Far be it from me to accuse your precious Lupin of deceit,” Snape sidestepped. “I suppose we’ll be seeing more of him then?” He couldn’t contain a sneer, and Harry snickered, which earned him a mild glare.

“No. He’s not going to be around for a while.” Snape narrowed his eyes, and before he could hatch a plot to actually poison Remus, Harry explained, “It’s good. And, uh, mutual. I love Remus and all. He was a good teacher, but he’s not really all that great at the…well, substitute-godfatherish type stuff, you know? He’s good at the listening part, I guess just not…the dependability part? Among other things. Anyway. We cleared the air. I’m glad. Maybe I’ll see him next summer or something.”

“You are certain that is what you want?”

“Yeah.” He nodded. “I am.”

“Hmm.” He wasn’t sure Snape believed him, but the man seemed satisfied. Maybe even a little too satisfied.

“You could try to get along with him, you know.”

“I do, in fact. I haven’t killed or maimed the man, have I?” Snape raised his eyebrows to emphasize his point.

“No, you’ve just threatened him.”

“He deserved it.”

And Harry couldn’t refute that, exactly, because he sort of agreed that Remus had been acting like an idiot. Plus, it felt nice to know that Snape was willing to threaten people on his behalf, even if Harry wasn’t a fan of threatening behavior in general. So he let it slide and reached into his pocket, pulled out a pocket watch, and handed it over. “Remember this?”

Snape turned it over in his hands. “Black’s, yes?”

“Uh huh. The one Remus gave me for my birthday. He said he’d help me personalize it if I wanted. I decided to take him up on it. Seemed like a decent olive branch, you know? And anyway, I don’t need it exactly the same as it was in order to remember Sirius. Kind of like how you talked about my mum and the stone. I can remember Sirius even if things he left behind aren’t exactly the same. So after Remus and I talked, I fetched the watch and asked him to help me change it up.”

He watched Snape open the watch, knowing what he would see. Tiny words lined the outside of the watch’s face where numbers would otherwise be. Tower, class, Great Hall, forest, grounds, detention, on holiday. He’d left those alone and added dungeons and Hogsmeade. Three of the four hands that used to contain the names of Moony, Wormtail, Padfoot, and Prongs, now read Harry, Hermione, and Ron. He’d considered adding more hands for more names, maybe Ginny or his other Gryffindor friends. He’d even thought about adding Snape’s name. But no. The man had barely let him into his life. He wouldn’t want Harry to keep tabs on where he was every second of every day. He knew how to reach Snape if he needed to, and that was enough.

The professor sent him a questioning glance. “You left Wormtail.”

“Yeah,” he nodded. “Wasn’t going to, but couldn’t quite bring myself to remove it. My dad and Sirius…they’re dead, but he’s not. He’s a rat. Can fit into tight places. What if he tries to get into Hogwarts, and I wouldn’t know except it’s on the watch?”

“Surely you know that the headmaster has taken precautions?” Snape set down the watch and studied Harry. “We were unaware that either Pettigrew or Black were animagi when they previously managed to infiltrate the school, much less that Pettigrew was alive. Should he attempt to reach you again, he will not find it so easy.”

He nodded. “I know. Just the same…”

“It makes you feel safe. To know.”

“Yeah.” He cringed. “I’m not scared, I swear, I-”

“Caution does not make you a coward,” Snape cut in. “Should you need reassurance of his whereabouts, you should certainly retain his name on the watch. It may even be considered prudent.”

Harry sat back, reassured that Snape didn’t think he was a scared little kid for keeping the name. He took back the watch and studied it. “I asked Remus if it would work to spell other names onto it. Could be a good idea to track Death Eaters or You-Know-Who, right? He said it couldn’t be done.”

“No,” agreed Snape. “There are ways to track people, certainly, but more complicated than on the face of a pocket watch. Such simplistic magic as this requires consent. Pettigrew presumably gave his consent long ago.”

Harry nodded. “We - Ron and Hermione and I - had to say a spell over it after. Put something of our magical signatures into it.” He pocketed the watch. “I like it better now. It’s something that belonged to Sirius, but it’s mine now too.” He let go of the watch and let his fingers drift over the outline of his lily-shaped charm, where it sat against his chest under his shirt. Snape had helped him to repair it yesterday and had located a simple chain from which to hang it.

Snape scrutinized him for a few seconds and then asked, “Enough talk, perhaps? You will have no sleeping spells or potions tonight. We will instead work on preparing your mind through Occlumency techniques. You will be glad to have as much time for practice as possible.”

“Preparing my mind how?”

Snape brought his chair around to the other side of his desk and motioned for Harry to face him. “We will focus on reaching a state of calm prior to sleep, reducing the possibility that your sleeping mind will react to negative stimuli. As that is not foolproof, I will also introduce you to techniques to fight off dreams whilst you are caught in their snare.”

He frowned as he turned his chair. “How can I fight off a nightmare if I don’t even know I’m in one? That’s the whole point of dreaming. You think it’s real.”

“We practice enough so that it is ingrained in you.” Snape pulled out his wand. “Your sleeping mind relies on instinct. Habit. You will practice these techniques so often and in such detail that you will use them automatically, even in your sleep. Which is quite the point.”

Well. That sounded promising. A lot of work, maybe, but worth it if it helped. He took a deep breath and nodded his readiness.

In truth, though they hadn’t yet begun, his mind was already loads calmer than it had been in days. It helped to be able to talk to Snape with all their cards on the table. To know that help was on its way. To not feel alone. The slight weights of the charm around his neck and the watch in his pocket were a way that his mum and his godfather could be with him even after they couldn’t be anymore. But more importantly, Snape could be here. Wanted to be here.

Wanted, he repeated in his head. Snape wanted to be here. Even after everything.

Surely that thought alone was good for chasing away a nightmare or two.

“I told you that you should have studied,” Hermione sniffed as they took their seats in the DADA classroom the following afternoon.

“I thought the exam was Monday!” moaned Ron, shuffling frantically through his notes. “How was I supposed to know it was today?”

“Because I told you. So did Professor Brooks. About ten times each! Friday doesn’t sound in the least like Monday.”

“We went over all the study questions though, right?” Harry pointed out. “You were listening. Just try to remember what we talked about and you’ll be fine.”

Ron groaned. “The only thing I remember is that nonverbal spells are useful if I’ve got a crush on a girl, and I don’t think Brooks’ll like that answer.”

“Which is why you should have studied,” said Hermione unhelpfully. She faced forward and cocked her head to the side. “What is Professor Flitwick doing here?”

“Flitwick?” Harry swiveled to face the front, and sure enough, there was Flitwick talking to Brooks. He didn’t seem in a hurry to leave, and the students eyed him curiously as they chattered amongst themselves. Now he understood why Malfoy and his goons weren’t being as rowdy as usual. Flitwick wasn’t the strictest professor at Hogwarts, but he commanded a certain level of respect. They all knew he didn’t hesitate to take points or hand out detentions when students deserved it. And more than half of Brooks’s class deserved it on a typical day.

Whatever the shorter professor was doing there, he didn’t seem in a hurry to leave. He took a seat next to the DADA professor’s desk and gave Brooks a smile and a nod, as if in encouragement.

“All right class, let’s settle down now,” Brooks called out with a nervous smile, which then shifted to a real smile when the class immediately quieted. Usually he had to say that at least five times for it to have any effect. He happily snatched a stack of blank exams, called out, “books away, quills out,” and was practically beaming after everyone obeyed.

Harry turned over his exam and held in a laugh when the first question asked them to “list five benefits of nonverbal spells in peaceful situations,” and he could hear Ron’s low grumble from the seat next to him. If not for Flitwick’s presence, he might have been tempted to whisper some hints to his friend. As it was, they were only ten minutes into the most peaceful DADA class of the term when Professor Flitwick quietly said his goodbyes to Brooks and left. It only took five more minutes for the first wad of paper to fly across the room.

Brooks cleared his throat, then cleared it again. “I…ah, I’ll thank you to not, er…cause disturbance in class, Mr. Malfoy.”

“Wasn’t me,” Malfoy said in a voice dripping with false innocence. “You must’ve seen wrong.”

“I…I know what I saw, Mr. Malfoy.” Brooks cleared his throat to rid it of its wobble, then said in a rush, “N-next disturbance from anyone, it’ll be points.” His voice rose at the end as if in a question. Most of the class ignored him, a few of the boys chortled, and another paper wad flew overhead.

“Five, er…five points from Slytherin, Mr. Nott.”

Harry stared, and he wasn’t the only one. Brooks never took points. Nott looked as surprised as the rest; he couldn’t seem to decide whether to smirk or to scowl.

“You can…ah, continue your exam, or I c-can take more points.” Brooks wiped a bit of sweat off his brow, and the poor man looked about to faint. From Nott’s narrowed eyes, he knew it too. The Slytherin boy was clearly weighing his options. But as nervous as Brooks was, Nott must have decided the professor meant it, for he scowled and went back to his exam.

Brooks blinked, clearly stunned that it had worked, and Harry bent his head over his exam to hide a grin. It was a step. Brooks had an uphill battle on his hands, and the Slytherins in particular wouldn’t take it this easy on him next time, but it was a step in the right direction. And Harry knew exactly who was behind it.

He remembered wondering once, back at Grimmauld Place, how many areas of expertise Snape had to his name. It was a valid question. The professor was highly skilled in Potions, Occlumency, Defense, spying, and dueling, among other things. And now Harry could add one more skill to the list. Who knew Severus Snape had such a talent for meddling?