For The Boy Who Has Everything by Foolish Wishmaker
Summary: Voldemort is dead, but the world is going to hell anyway. Harry is forced to go into hiding as Snape's son. Little does he know, it isn't just a useful disguise.
Categories: Parental Snape > Biological Father Snape > Severitus Challenge Main Characters: Draco, Ginny, Hermione, Neville, Remus, Ron, Sirius, .Snape and Harry (required)
Snape Flavour: None
Genres: Drama
Media Type: None
Tags: Alternate Universe, Resorting, Slytherin!Harry
Takes Place: 6th summer
Warnings: Alcohol Use, Romance/Slash
Challenges: None
Series: None
Chapters: 29 Completed: No Word count: 189045 Read: 191033 Published: 21 May 2007 Updated: 06 Oct 2013
Chapter 24 by Foolish Wishmaker

Walking past the second floor landing, Harry looked longingly toward Lupin's office. The door was shut, however, and he had no plausible explanation for Malfoy to excuse himself to go see Lupin.

Besides, Lupin didn't want to see him; he wanted Harry to leave him alone.

He dragged his attention back to Malfoy.

"... why Professor Snape won't let me take over brewing the more common potions. I'm one of his best students and I don't believe at all that he still worries for my health. I'm perfectly well."

Harry decided Malfoy was best left to just talk uninterrupted. "Hmm."

"I can make burn salves and common antidotes and boil cures and bruise-healing paste practically in my sleep; those were all first year potions."

"Hmm."

"Just because Weasley and most of his crowd are so dimwitted, doesn't make your father bad at teaching. Everyone who wants to get something out of his class is doing well in it."

Harry thought sourly of his own failure in Potions. He had always thought Snape's treatment of him had the biggest effect on his ability to learn, but Malfoy was right that Harry, after the very first class, hadn't tried overly hard to gain something out of his forced attendance.

"Professor Snape said in our very first class that he usually gets a bunch of talentless dunderheads, not worth his time."

Harry remembered Snape's introductory speech well enough for himself, without hearing Malfoy's take on it.

"Anyway," Malfoy finished, "ignore Weasley. He's barely passing any of his classes, and my mother says that any student who blames his teacher for his own failings had better take a long hard look at what he's done to succeed."

Harry was glad when Malfoy finally shut up, because Malfoy had succeeded quite well in bringing back Harry's earlier bad mood.

They were walking past Snape's office, which Harry noticed immediately had its door cracked open, throwing a small section of the corridor into brighter light. He held back a sigh, already anticipating not being allowed to pass.

"Back already?" Snape said, coming to the door as they got nearer. "How was it?"

Malfoy looked at Harry, perhaps thinking Snape would care more about what his son had to say. When Harry shrugged, Malfoy frowned at him and turned back to Snape. "It was fine, sir, other than Weasley being a prat."

Snape raised an eyebrow, and didn't ask which Weasley was being called names. His black eyes shifted from Malfoy back to Harry. "I see. Well, enjoy the rest of your afternoon, Draco. Hadrian, I have a Zamia Furfuracea taking up space in my office and I will thank you to put it back where you found it."

Snape turned on his heel and went back into his office without waiting for either of them to reply, leaving the door open.

"A what?" Harry muttered, and felt heat creep up his neck when Malfoy looked at him like he thought Harry had sawdust for brains.

"It's a cycad," Malfoy whispered, possibly under the impression that he was being helpful. Then, louder, he said, "See you later, Hadrian."

"See you," Harry said, halfheartedly, watching Malfoy walk off in the direction of the Slytherin common room.

Still having no idea what it was Snape wanted him to do, Harry forced his feet to move toward the doorway.

"Sit," Snape said, indicating the hard bench rather than the more comfortable visitor's chair.

The door shut silently behind Harry, and glowed briefly.

Harry sat, already pressing his lips together in determination to remain silent.

Snape settled behind the desk, and fixed his eyes on Harry with an indiscernible expression.

Harry felt the minutes trickle by. His back began to feel itchy and damp, his shirt clingy and too tight, but he refused to squirm and let Snape know that the silence was getting to him. He looked determinately at a small crack in the wall just behind Snape's left ear.

"I would leave you to carry on your silence," Snape said, making Harry jump. "But as you had to have noticed, it's drawing unwanted attention."

Harry, supposing Snape meant Malfoy, nodded reluctantly.

"You would not want me to have to make up a reason why father and son are suddenly not speaking to each other," Snape said. "So, to that end, I recommend you take a long nap and come to dinner refreshed and with your dismal mood set aside. You can sulk your fill in the privacy of your bedroom."

"Fine," Harry ground out.

If he had been hoping Snape would let him go, he was disappointed. Snape didn't take his eyes off Harry's face, and went back to staring at him in silence.

Just when Harry thought he couldn't stand it anymore, Snape finally spoke again.

"Lupin can't seem to make up his mind. He wants me to tell you the truth, he wants me to lie to you... today the pendulum has swung back to the side of the truth."

Harry dared a quick glance at Snape, but looked away again when his eyes met Snape's piercing ones.

"I can't say I am much impressed by your reaction to being told the truth, Potter," Snape said, lowering his voice in a way that made an uncomfortable shiver run down Harry's spine. "You say you want the truth, but it seems to me you only want it when it validates your pre-existing notions. I imagine --" Snape inclined his head to the side, a mirthless smile tugging his mouth grotesquely. "-- conversations with Dumbledore must have been quite agreeable for you. Reassuring and pacifying, perhaps, even if they may not have been entirely satisfying or too forthcoming with truthful answers."

Harry dragged his eyes back to Snape's. He didn't answer, but he didn't look away, either.

"He was very good at that," Snape said, nodding. "He could leave you feeling like everything was going according to some well laid-out plan, or even make you forget the conversation had started with a burning question and that he had not actually answered it."

Harry, slowly, returned Snape's nod, thinking of the times Dumbledore had sat with him and told him things Harry had eagerly committed to memory, but had somehow avoided answering Harry's questions.

"Sometimes," Snape went on, "the truth is withheld because we believe it will not be understood. I know you do not trust Draco and you think we are fools for leaving him with a portkey out of the castle." Snape smirked when Harry jerked his eyes away. "I do not need to read your mind to know that."

Harry returned his eyes to Snape's face, though still somewhat suspicious. Had Snape himself not berated him, once, for not having the sense to know when his mind was being intruded?

"Dumbledore told you that he trusted me, never wavering from that assertion in five years' time. You are the only one who knows how much difference those words made. Perhaps you were capable of mistrusting me to an even greater degree. He did not tell you his reasons, and neither will I tell you my reasons for trusting Draco. I see no point in doing so, since it is not my trust that matters. It is yours." Snape waited, giving him a chance to respond before continuing. "Has anyone ever told you that to be trusted one must be trustworthy?"

Harry jerked his head, negatively. Who would have told him that -- the Dursleys? But he answered, "That's just common sense."

Snape looked at him for several moments that felt longer than they were. "One would think so. Then you see, don't you, that it is pointless for me to tell you that Draco has earned my trust. He has not earned yours, and my opinion will not change your mind about Draco any more than Dumbledore's opinion changed your mind about me."

Harry frowned.

"Do you see, then," Snape pressed, "why you might be untrustworthy?"

Harry crossed his arms over his chest protectively. He had no intention of answering.

"I accept that I may, in fact, be wrong." Snape's eyes were glinting, which gave away that he thought nothing of the sort. "Would you like to prove me wrong, Potter? Simply look into my eyes and tell me that in the past week you have done nothing sly, deceitful, thieving, or potentially dangerous."

As Snape waited, Harry felt his insides heat up as if Snape had lit a fire underneath the bench he was sitting on.

He had eavesdropped on a private conversation. He had stolen out of a box full of dangerous Dark artifacts, which Snape had warned him not to touch. He hadn't returned all of Snape's photographs, and wasn't planning to. He had taken advantage of Lupin when he concealed the stolen book inside Neville's birthday gift. He was going to steal -- or, at least, borrow -- a Pensieve so he could view the memory Dumbledore had left him. He was already planning to go behind Snape and Lupin's backs because they didn't believe the new prophecy was a threat...

If he were truly honest, he could add even more to that list.

Of course, he couldn't tell Snape any of that.

He settled on grinding out, "How do you want me to say that and be truthful, when I've done nothing but lie to my friends ever since we got here?"

Snape didn't answer him. The silence stretched, and eventually Snape sighed, almost inaudibly, and settled back in his chair.

"I regret that I upset you, last night."

Harry sniffed disbelievingly.

"Lupin would like to believe that unpleasant truths are easier to hear if spoken pleasantly. Perhaps I should have taken a page out of Dumbledore's book and offered you a lemon sherbet before I began."

"No," Harry said, a sharp spike of anger barely allowing him to keep himself from glaring. "But I don't think it was necessary to be so mean about it."

Snape just looked at him, waiting for him to go on.

"Well," Harry said, huffing as he struggled to rein himself in, "you didn't have to tell me you can't stand to look at me. It isn't my fault I remind you of something you did."

"I didn't blame you, I don't believe," Snape said. "I merely explained why I am not able to take you on the way Lupin would like for me to. I don't believe you truly would want me to. We would make each other miserable, and that's the plain truth."

"You did so say that," Harry said stubbornly. "You said you can't stand me just for existing. Isn't that what my dad said about you, that one time?"

Snape's eyes flashed dangerously, and Harry hunched his shoulders, sorry he had brought up Snape's worst memory. That, after all, was one of the reasons Snape thought him so untrustworthy, wasn't it?

After a very long time, Harry decided to risk looking at Snape again, and raised his eyes off the floor.

"I did not say I can't stand you," Snape said quietly, as if he had been waiting to say it until Harry was looking at him. "I said you are a reminder of something that remains... painful."

It was Harry, this time, who let the silence drag.

"Did you mean to do it?"

Snape raised an eyebrow.

"Lupin said you should tell me the whole story," Harry said, a bit defensively.

"I'm sure he did say so," Snape agreed, studying him. He leaned back in his chair, folding his hands over his stomach. "Of course, he also says he is finished playing the go-between, so he would have me deal with your unpredictable reactions to hearing things you claim you want to be told."

He waited a few moments for Harry to respond, but Harry had gone back to staring sullenly at the toes of his boots.

"For all your insistence that you need to know everything that concerns you, Potter, your behavior leaves people reluctant to share anything with you. One is never sure if you will fly into a fury or if you will have no reaction at all and will consequently ignore information you are given for your own safety."

Harry scowled. He wanted to tell Snape he didn't agree at all, and he didn't agree... except that he found he didn't exactly disagree, either. But, he told himself quickly, it was only because by the time anyone bothered to explain things, something terrible had usually already happened. How could he be expected not to react badly?

"Neither do you like to tell the truth yourself, as we have already established," Snape went on, apparently unconcerned by Harry's lack of reply. "Would you agree, for instance, to take a sip of Veritaserum and answer one of my questions?"

Harry looked up, glaring mutinously.

Snape, he saw, had a tiny glass vial in between his fingers, which was filled with a clear fluid.

"That's not the same thing," Harry said. "I wouldn't have a choice --"

"But, I would only ask for the truth, Potter," Snape said, smiling horridly. "Is there more than one way to tell the truth?"

Harry, feeling like he had been unfairly tricked, went back to glaring, mouth clamped shut.

"We could agree to some limits," Snape went on, his tone falsely persuasive. "Just one question. We could even decide on it beforehand. Perhaps something about your home life?"

Harry was so outraged that his teeth made an audible grinding sound. "That's private and isn't anyone else's business! That's not the same as me wanting to know things that concern me."

Snape's eyebrow rose. "I see. Do you think there may be times when someone refuses to answer one of your question on account of not wanting to tell you something that's private and none of your business?" He waved away Harry's sputtered protest. "How about something that concerns everyone in this castle, then? May I ask how you plan on dragging us into another disaster over a muddled mess of phrases you only half-heard?"

Harry found himself on his feet, his hands painfully grasping the edge of Snape's desk. "DON'T TALK ABOUT SIRIUS, YOU HAVE NO RIGHT!" A tinge of red started creeping over the edges of his vision, and he was sure that he was about to lose control and destroy Snape's office. "YOU... IT'S..."

"My fault?" Snape questioned quietly. He put the potion back into a desk drawer before continuing, leaving Harry to stand in front of him, shaking uncontrollably. "I did not say anything about Black, but do get that out of your system if you feel you need to."

Harry, feeling like all the air had gone out of him, stumbled backwards and into the bench, which caught him just above the inside of his knees. He sat down hard enough to send pain up his tailbone.

"I know you think I failed to pass on your message," Snape continued, just as quietly. "I did pass it on, but that is not important. I failed to keep you and your classmates safe, which was the job that fell to me once Dumbledore was out of the castle. I did not think that you had much chance of getting past Hogwarts' wards, let alone of reaching London and let alone of gaining entry to the Ministry building. Had I thought it likely, I would have done more to physically prevent you. As it was, there were others who seemed in greater danger, and I allowed my focus to be split. I should not have --" Snape let out a short breath. "It was you I was responsible for, and I allowed myself to be distracted."

Harry sat there, unable to stop shaking and fighting a ghastly possibility that he might cry in front of Snape.

If it wasn't Snape's fault, then it was Harry's. He had already known that -- it had already haunted him night after night after night -- but he still found now that he hadn't completely faced it.

"What happened to Black was not your fault," Snape said, somehow knowing Harry's thoughts again. "It was a terrible thing that happened because of circumstances --"

"You hated him," Harry said, desperate to stop Snape from finishing that sentence. Snape lying to make him feel better was worse, even, than being blamed. "So don't say you think it was terrible."

"Yes," Snape agreed after a moment. "I did hate him. I still do."

Harry felt his throat close up and his chest begin to ache with pressure.

"I hated him, but that was between him and me. He was an ally and an asset to our side. He would have protected you and rushed to your side with a ferocity I might not have been able to match... and he did do so. Had he not died, he would have provided you with a home and given you care... better than I can. He would have lightened my load, made my responsibilities easier to carry out. I am not glad that he is gone, nor do I find any satisfaction in your grief."

Harry tried to take a steadying breath, hugging himself tighter and sinking his nails into the flesh over his ribs in an effort to regain some control.

"Would you like a calming draught?"

Harry shook his head, not because he was very much against having one, but because swallowing anything was an impossibility.

"Why don't you go see Lupin?" Snape suggested. "The walk may do you some good. We do not need to revisit this conversation, but if you would like to continue the one from yesterday, we can."

Harry got to his feet like a wooden puppet whose strings Snape had just pulled.

"Do take the Zamia Furfuracea back," Snape said, his voice taking on more of his normal, dismissive, tone. "I don't have the space for it."

Harry looked at what Snape was motioning to, and saw the plant he had dragged down from Lupin's office. It felt like that had happened years ago instead of the previous day, or maybe had happened to someone else rather than him.

He picked it up and stumbled into the corridor, feeling glad that the thick, meaty leaves hid most of his head, in case he met anyone on the way upstairs. He still wasn't entirely sure he wasn't going to cry, or at least that the next time he drew in a breath it might not come out sounding like a sob.


 




 

 

Harry balanced the heavy plant on his knee while he wiped his face with his sleeve. His eyes were dry, but his nose had started to drip a bit, as if to make up for him not allowing his eyes to do the same. He took a few deep breaths. Feeling a little calmer, he raised his hand to knock.

The movement tilted him off balance, and he almost dropped the plant or even ended up sprawling on the stone floor, if not for the fact that the door banged open and Lupin caught the edge of the pot to steady it.

Harry righted himself and offered him the plant wordlessly, feeling a embarrassed that he couldn't even do a simple thing like hold a potted plant and knock on a door at the same time.

"Thank you, Hadrian. I had begun to wonder if your father intended to keep it in his office."

Lupin didn't offer to let him inside, so Harry found himself floundering for words, feeling exposed in the middle of the corridor.

"Er... Do you need any help, Professor?"

"No, thank you," Lupin said, his tone so unwelcoming that it barely fell short of being hostile.

Harry, feeling like he had been kicked, took a step back.

Lupin sighed heavily, stepping to the side. "Come in and help yourself to a scone, Hadrian. They're on my desk. We can discuss your progress in your Defense reading."

Harry sidled past Lupin quickly, before the man could change his mind. There was a platter with scones and tarts on the desk, which were the same ones he had just had at Neville's tea. He took one, just to have something to hold, and froze with it in his suddenly numb fingers as a glint of gold caught his eyes.

There, on Lupin's desk, almost hidden among stacks of books and mountains of papers, was Snape's box.

Panicked thoughts ran through his mind at mad speed, before he latched onto what he thought was the likeliest one. Lupin was just doing as he had promised, researching the things Dumbledore had left for Snape. It didn't mean anything. If they knew he had opened the box, it would have been Snape who laid into him. He would never have made it out of Snape's office, if they knew what he had done. Snape wouldn't have held back if he had found out Harry had disobeyed him in a manner so like the incident with the Pensieve the previous year.

"You look upset," Lupin said, his tone flat. He set the plant down on a small table and sat down in his chair, looking at Harry with an unreadable expression. "Did you not enjoy the tea?"

Harry sat down, feeling like his legs would not hold him for much longer.

He cleared his throat.

"It was fine. Ron was horrid and Fred and George weren't there, but the rest of us had a good time."

"I see," Lupin said.

Harry, feeling that Lupin was being difficult on purpose, chewed his scone and tried to stop himself from scowling.

"I do have things to do, Hadrian," Lupin said, gesturing to the piles of papers on his desk.

Harry blinked at Lupin, not sure if he had misheard. Had Lupin just called him by the wrong name?

Was something wrong? Was it unsafe to be having this conversation, even though he had seen Lupin ward the door and that had always been his cue it was safe to talk?

He shook off the unpleasant sensation.

What Lupin was really saying was, Talk or get out, and Harry did want to at least try to unburden himself of all the confusing feelings Snape had stirred up.

"I just spoke with Professor Snape," he began, faltering only slightly at Lupin's unchanged expression. "I tried to do what you said, but of course he just insulted me as usual... said I was untrustworthy and shouldn't be told things, and chewed me out for making Malfoy suspicious."

"Yes," Lupin said, ignoring most of what Harry had just told him, "you can't go on not speaking to him. We explained your behavior for today, but --"

"I already got that message, Professor," Harry said, looking at Lupin with what he knew was probably a pathetically desperate expression on his face. "I won't do it again. I'm sorry I was rude this morning. I didn't sleep most of last night and I had another bad dream and --"

"Fine," Lupin said, cutting Harry off. "I appreciate your apology and thank you in advance for being more cautious from now on."

Harry, feeling like he had been slapped into silence, sat back in his chair and just stared at Lupin.

"I'm sorry if your conversation was unsatisfactory," Lupin said after a few long, silent minutes had dragged by. "Is there some reason you would like me to get involved?"

Harry, starting to shake off the confusion, felt a stirring of anger. "We ended up talking about Sirius. He told me to come here."

Lupin's mouth jerked at Sirius' name, but he only gave Harry another long, silent stare.

"He called me sly, deceitful, and thieving," Harry said, his eyes starting to burn again at the memory of Snape's stinging words. "He said I was a danger to everyone."

"Is that what he said?" Lupin asked, unmoved by Harry's outburst. "He said you were sly, deceitful, thieving, and dangerous?"

Harry scowled. "He said I could prove I wasn't, if I looked into his eyes and said I hadn't done anything in the last week to deserve it."

He was going to say more, but stopped, because he didn't like the sour, unpleasant sneer that was making the corners of Lupin's mouth twitch downward.

"I suppose you are correct," Lupin said, making some effort to pull his face back into the neutral, detached expression he had worn since the moment Harry had come into his office. "It sounds like he did call you names... if, that is, you were unable to tell him truthfully that you have done none of those things."

Harry stood up, his spine rigid. "Thank you very much for the scone, Professor."

Lupin gave him a dark, penetrating look that was disconcertingly reminiscent of one of Snape's. He stood up as well.

Harry braced himself, because there was something in Lupin's expression now that made him think what Lupin had been trying to hide behind his impassive mask was nothing short of murderous rage.

"I'm sorry you don't agree with his assessment of you. I have always gone to great lengths to defend you, since I believe your positive traits far outweigh the negative ones. But don't you DARE --" Lupin suddenly brought his hand thunderously down on the top of the desk, making Harry leap back as the platter of scones and tarts clattered to the floor. He dropped his voice to a harsh whisper. "Don't you dare come in here and expect me to disagree with him after taking advantage of my trust." His normally warm amber eyes, now like smoldering coals, bore into Harry's. "I left Hermione the book, since I see no way of keeping half a dozen teenagers from getting their hands on another copy. I could Obliviate the lot of them... but that is too much like what the Ministry is currently doing, and I would be concerned about what that spell would do to Luna's fragile state of mind. But don't you dare --" Lupin took out his wand and pointed it at Harry's chest. "-- come in here and talk to me about how trustworthy you are."

Harry had backed away from Lupin, feeling like his insides had been turned into a solid block of ice, until his back hit the door.

Lupin flicked his wand, causing Harry to flinch in anticipation of pain.

The door swung open, making him stumble.

"Thank you again for bringing back my plant, Hadrian."

Harry turned and fled Lupin's office without a backwards glance.


 




 

 

Walking past Snape's office, Harry found himself stopping to knock on the door.

Snape opened it, raising an eyebrow when Harry walked in without a word.

"Did you send me to him to be yelled at?" Harry asked, his mouth forming the words in a way that felt detached from his brain. "Was that my punishment?"

Snape studied him for a moment. "I had intended to bring it up myself, but given the unexpected turn our conversation took, I found I did not trust myself to deal with what I was sure would follow."

Harry shivered, gooseflesh popping up all over his arms. He rubbed his hands up and down his arms, and left them there, hugging himself.

"Perhaps I should not have trusted him, either," Snape said, sighing irritably. "I ask again, would you like a calming draught?"

Harry shook his head. "I was going back to my room. I think I will have a sleep, after all."

He wanted to crawl into bed and not get up again. Ever.

"Yet, here you are."

Harry shrugged, unable to explain.

Snape walked over to his desk and rummaged inside a box that held a number of vials and flasks, some of which Harry recognized from that morning.

"Here, take some Dreamless Sleep. There's one full dose here, so if you want to be present for dinner I suggest you mix only a few drops into water or juice."

"Can I skip dinner?" Harry asked, taking the potion and looking down at the floor so he wouldn't have to see Snape's expression when Snape said no. "Tell them I'm sobbing my eyes out about my dead Mum, if you want..."

Snape didn't answer for a long time. Harry could feel Snape studying him.

"If you need to."

Harry nodded. He did need to. He didn't think he could stand to be in the same room as Lupin just an hour from then. Not even if they could have sat on opposite ends of the Great Hall.

"Very well," Snape agreed. He paused. "I meant what I said before, about being willing to continue our conversation from yesterday. We need not revisit the one we had just now."

Harry nodded again; he wasn't sure if he was agreeing, or if his head only wagged affirmatively because that would get Snape off his back the quickest.

"Go on," Snape said, opening the door for him. "Rest and we will speak later."

Harry went, and later didn't know how he managed to get to his room, or whether he ever lost his way.

Ignoring Snape's instructions, he uncorked the bottle and took an unmeasured swallow. The rest, he carefully put in a desk drawer for later. Dreamless Sleep was too precious and fell into his hands far too infrequently to waste all of it on just one single dreamless night.

Then, already feeling heavy and off-balance, he snuffed out the light and pulled the covers over his head.


 




 

 

Harry opened his eyes, groggy and confused.

Several things became apparent to him at once, but they made so little sense that at first he couldn't force his sluggish brain to work out what was happening.

He was standing, barefoot, in a dungeon corridor that didn't look familiar. The walls were slimy, and so close on either side that he could not have stretched his arms out fully without touching them. They leaned in, making the narrow passageway even more claustrophobic than it would otherwise have been, and the rough ceiling was only a wand-length away from the top of his head.

It was freezing. His feet were both numb and aching from cold, and the cold was quickly moving up his legs, making his calf muscles tingle. His teeth were chattering.

The only light was from up ahead, where the passageway met up with what had to be a larger corridor, since Harry could see that the light came from a pair of torches. Only the main corridors -- the ones leading to classrooms and Snape's office -- had torches positioned so close together, or in sets of more than one.

Standing there, having no idea how he had got there or why, or how long it might have been since he had left his room, he only shook himself out of his paralysis when he heard voices.

He crept forward, toward the light.

"-- so rough with him. I was almost tempted to check him for hex marks."

Harry pressed himself into the wall as Snape and Lupin, walking side by side, passed the opening of the narrow passageway where he hid.

"I must say, I didn't expect you to come back tonight. I don't have the energy for another argument."

"We're done with that, I think," Lupin replied. He sounded very tired. "And, yes, I came close to hexing him... if he hadn't looked so terrified when I took out my wand. I've never seen anyone's eyes so wide."

Snape snorted. Harry saw him glance around, almost as if he suspected the conversation was being overheard. "He wasn't expecting to be caught, or at least caught so soon. That's all. I'm quite relieved we don't have to deal with him here, for all your efforts to convince me he would be safer. Let someone else have the full-time task of watching him... I've done my part for five years and got nothing but aggravation for my trouble. I have my own child to worry about now, and Draco, too, and I would just as rather do without a troublesome little fool underfoot. You need not think this will put him off future misbehavior, either. There aren't consequences enormous enough to make him think twice of continuing the same --"

A door had open and shut, leaving Harry in sudden silence.

He was about to try to find his way back to his room, when something pale materialized out of the shadows. Harry had stepped back, startled, before he realized it was another person, not a ghost.

"Sounds like someone's in bad trouble," Malfoy said, his voice very soft and his white-blond hair and grey eyes luminous in the low light. "Wouldn't you say?"

The two of them stared at each other. Harry's mind whirled.

"I... uh... I don't really know who they're talking about. Lupin was a bit snappish when I saw him earlier, but he couldn't have been talking about hexing me."

"Potter," Malfoy said, smirking.

Harry felt his stomach drop like it had suddenly been filled with lead.

"They were talking about Potter. They were called away from the castle shortly after dinner, and my guess is they went to wherever Potter is being hidden. He sent Hermione that book, didn't he? It doesn't take much to conclude he's up to his neck in some scheme again. You heard them; they're so used to Potter dragging them into things that they just assume anything that comes from him is going to be trouble."

Harry stared at him, unable to choose between relief and the sore, resentful feeling that Malfoy's words were stirring up. Malfoy had no idea what he was talking about. He didn't want to think that his friends could really feel that way about him... but the dispirited way in which Hermione, Neville, and Ginny had reacted to receiving the book echoed in his mind. Yes, they had said they would deal with it -- they, who were part of his inner circle in the D.A. -- but they had sounded like prisoners heading to a stay in Azkaban, not like friends eager to help.

He had, he recalled, instantly regretted sending the book, but had managed to pacify himself with the thought that it was only a bit of research and nothing dangerous that would lure them out of the castle or... anything like that, really.

"Potter is always in trouble, you know," Malfoy went on. "Professor Snape says he doesn't know if Potter has the worst luck or the best luck, because trouble and disaster follow him everywhere, but he seems to get out alive every time."

The idea of Snape talking about him to Malfoy was enough to jolt Harry out of his shock.

"I only met him once," Harry said, hoping his voice didn't give anything away. "Anyway, I didn't mean to overhear their conversation. I was coming to find my dad because I had another bad dream... about my mum, if you must know. He told me he would give me more Dreamless Sleep if I still couldn't sleep."

Malfoy glanced, rather doubtfully, at Harry's bare feet, and didn't say anything.

"I was only going down the hall, and my boots are a bother to lace up," Harry said, even more defensively. "I made a wrong turn somewhere."

Malfoy shrugged. "Anyone who speaks in the open should expect to be overheard, so you were hardly doing anything any Slytherin wouldn't do. Come on, I'll walk you back to your room... since you're so prone to going the wrong way. Unless you would still like to see Professor Snape? They went inside his quarters. It's quite late, you know."

Harry swallowed. No, he didn't want to see Snape, especially when Lupin was there as well.

"It's fine. I'll just read a bit and that will probably put me to sleep. You don't need to walk with me, either."

"Don't be stupid," Malfoy said. He grasped Harry by the elbow and turned him around, forcing him to start walking the other way, away from the well-lit main corridor. "Your father will have my head if he finds out I knew you were wandering about after midnight and didn't see fit to take you back where you belong."

Harry had no choice but to allow himself to be dragged along.

"I'm a Prefect, you know," Malfoy went on, unconcerned about Harry's silence. "It's my job to make sure all the Firsties are tucked in their beds and shoo them back to the common room if I catch them out of bounds."

Harry decided he was not going to be provoked into arguing, and said nothing.

"There," Malfoy said, a few minutes later. "Straight ahead from here. Or do I need to walk you inside?"

"No, thank you," Harry said, his voice slightly strangled. "I'll manage."

"Well, good-night, then. See you at breakfast."

"Good-night," Harry said, grudgingly. It was still disconcerting when Malfoy was polite to him.

Malfoy waved and was gone, ducking back into the darkness of the narrow passageway.

Harry, once he had shut the door and collapsed into his desk chair, let out a shuddering breath.

Snape might be convinced that Harry was a well-practiced liar, but Harry didn't find lying to be easy at all. Trying to come up with a story Malfoy would believe had been a panic-inducing experience, and he wasn't even sure, now, that Malfoy didn't know the truth.

He decided to tell Snape. The desire to avoid talking to Snape, especially after what Snape had said about trusting Malfoy, earlier, was outweighed by the desire to protect everyone from whatever Malfoy might do with his suspicions, if he had any. Dumbledore had never listened to Harry when Harry had expressed misgivings about Snape, and Snape likely wouldn't listen to Harry about Malfoy, but at least nobody would be able to claim that Harry hadn't tried to warn them.

He put on socks to try to warm his frozen feet, drank the rest of the Dreamless Sleep, and crawled back into bed. He hoped that this time he would wake in the morning, and still in his own bed.

His last conscious thought was that he would have to make up some story to explain how he had found himself in a position to overhear the same conversation Malfoy had. He was getting so much practice in lying, that soon he really would be as deceitful and sly as Snape already thought him to be.

To be continued...


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