Harry woke up early. After dragging his heavy arm up to his face to check the time, he let it fall back to the bed and closed his aching eyes.

Well, of course he was unwell. He would have rolled his eyes, but they simply hurt too much to move.

It was his birthday, he had missed his tradition of wishing himself a happy birthday at midnight, he had nothing to look forward to now that he had got on Lupin's bad side for what he had to assume was the last time, Malfoy was going to get them all killed, the one potion that was capable of making his life a little bit easier had done something dreadful to him, and he was ill. That made quite a lot of sense to him, actually. He would have been a lot more surprised had he woken up with a list of good things that had recently happened to him.

Since those rambling thoughts had made his head ache even worse than before, he tried to break them apart into lesser pieces.

It was his birthday. He needn't expect anything from anyone.

He had slept through his traditional midnight birthday greeting. He felt rather sad about it; he had done it every year since the year he had found out when his birthday was... the year he had started primary school. The little ritual had made up, just a little, for the Dursleys not acknowledging his birthday at all.

Lupin had promised him a gift, and Harry had been stupidly looking forward to it, but Lupin was really angry with him. Perhaps even enough to never have anything to do with him again. That was so much worse than going without gifts. He was used to not getting anything, after all. He didn't care about that at all.

Snape wouldn't give him anything, either. Snape had no reason to.

He might get something from his friends, he thought hopefully... until he recalled that it was up to Lupin to ferry letters between Harry and his friends, and that Lupin likely wouldn't want to do that, after the way Harry had abused the privilege. At best, Harry would never get anything from his friends that wasn't subjected to great scrutiny. Or maybe Lupin would pass the job on to Snape... and then Harry would never get anything, period.

Harry really was feeling dreadful, now that he fully understood what he had done. It had seemed mostly harmless at the time; he had merely felt a bit guilty for sneaking the book past Lupin. He had even thought himself quite clever, at the time. Now he just felt... dreadful.

Speaking of dreadful, the pounding in his temples was pretty dreadful, all right. Harry still had a lot of time before breakfast, but he didn't see himself feeling any better before then. That meant he had to go talk to Snape, like it or not. Snape was the one with the medical potions, since Madam Pomfrey wasn't at Hogwarts yet. Snape was the one he would be expected to go to, anyway. It wasn't like Hadrian could have any possible reason to ask Mrs. Weasley to fix him up. Harry thought maybe Hadrian would be expected to tell Snape even if Madam Pomfrey was around. Wasn't that what children did? Run to their mummy and daddy at the slightest provocation?

Scowling at the ceiling and feeling utterly miserable, Harry tried to push those thoughts away, irritated with himself. He had always been sad about not having a real family, of course, and knew he was missing out, but he hadn't started to dwell on it so much until he was forced to pretend to be a boy who had a living father. Being forced to pretend that he had someone to go to when he needed something was doing all sorts of annoying and bizarre things to him. Worse, he still didn't have anyone to go to; Snape only pretended to care when they were in public, and then only because he had to.

Well, he did have to talk to Snape, he supposed. He had to tell him about Malfoy. So, he supposed it was inevitable that he would have to go find him, and he might as well get a Pepper-Up sooner rather than later.

He rolled out of bed and did the bare minimum of washing up and dressing. His head pounded and his nose dripped and his throat was raw. He didn't bother looking in the mirror, just assuming he looked as bad as he felt.

He left his room and made his way down the corridors, shivering and sniffling to keep back the snot that was practically pouring out of his nose. He was still trying to puzzle out what had got him into this condition, though he was sure he could have done a much better job of making sense of it had his brain not been addled with fever. He'd really done a number on himself. How had he ended up in that corridor, in the middle of the night? What could cause someone to go to bed in one place and wake in another, and not have any idea what had happened in between?

He rounded the corner and blinked at the sight of Mrs. Weasley, Luna, and Ginny walking out of Snape's quarters. Lupin was walking with them as they headed in the direction of the stairs. Snape himself remained in the doorway, looking after them with a sort of tired frown.

Harry was going to start walking again -- he should get this over with, he reckoned -- but his legs were refusing to move.

Ginny.

Ginny, when she had been possessed by Voldemort -- by a horcrux, as Harry now knew -- had done things and then not remembered. Harry had even told Snape that, back at Grimmauld Place when they were arguing about whether Harry himself had been possessed by Voldemort all through his fifth year at Hogwarts. Harry had argued that he had never experienced blackouts like Ginny, but now...

Now he had.

He remembered Snape telling him that Voldemort had been influencing him. How Harry's anger and irritability might have been a sign that he was not always alone in his mind. How his scar had linked him to Voldemort and how his dreams weren't really dreams at all. And, just two days ago, Snape had explained how Harry had always carried a piece of Voldemort's soul in his head. He remembered, too, the red tint his vision had acquired as he raged at Snape, the previous afternoon. That hadn't been normal; that was why he remembered it.

It had happened before, in fact, in Dumbledore's presence, and so Harry had not entirely dismissed the possibility that Dumbledore had not been completely wrong. He had tried, he really had. Maybe a little of what Snape had said had stuck in the back of his mind, and now --

"Hadrian?" Snape said, turning and catching sight of him where he still stood, stupidly, in the middle of the corridor. "Are you all right?"

Harry wanted to step back around the corner and find some other way of dealing with his illness. He had a sudden realization that he could never, ever tell Snape.

Snape, when telling Harry and Lupin about Dumbledore's orders, hadn't looked happy -- he had looked rather sick about it, and maybe even relieved that it hadn't been necessary -- but all of that could change in a heartbeat. If Harry still carried Voldemort... well, then Dumbledore's orders still stood, didn't they?

That had to be what the prophecy meant. That had to be why Harry still might have to die. That was why he was still having dreams that seemed to come from somewhere other than his own mind. He was the reason Voldemort could still come back. He had stopped Voldemort from being destroyed forever, because he was still a horcrux and Voldemort could never die so long as even one of his horcruxes existed.

He couldn't tell anyone. At least not until he knew more. There had to be some way of finding out for certain.

"Hadrian?" Snape was frowning at him in a way that never bode well. "I asked you a question. Are you all right?"

"I'm not feeling well," Harry said, his scratchy throat doing a lot to disguise how shaky his voice was. "I think I caught something."

Snape had already approached him; Harry was a little shocked to realize that Snape was only a few feet away from him. He had to fight against the instinct to get away.

Snape put a cool hand against Harry's burning forehead, then moved it to touch Harry's cheek. "Hmm. You're feverish. Perhaps we were too hasty to blame you for your foul mood yesterday. It's possible you were already suffering from a low-grade fever. Come along. We can take care of this before breakfast, unless I find you are contagious and must be kept away from the others. It wouldn't do to expose Miss Lovegood to another ailment if we can avoid it."

By the time Snape had stopped speaking, Harry found they were already inside and that he was sitting on the couch with a blanket over his legs and a pillow tucked into his side to prop him upright. He found it was very hard to focus on more than just one thing at a time. Or even to focus on one thing for too long. His thoughts were leaping all over the place.

Well, let Snape think whatever he wanted. Harry wasn't going to correct him.

Snape returned with several potions, which he handed to Harry one at a time.

Harry drank them obediently. As soon as his head was clear, he would be able to make more sense of everything. He hoped, anyway.

Snape watched him closely, standing over him in a way that Harry used to find intimidating.

"Lie back."

Harry put his feet up -- his boots had mysteriously vanished off his feet at some point -- and shut his eyes when Snape put a wet, chilled cloth over his eyes and forehead.

"Lie still for a while," Snape said, pulling the blanket over him. "I gave you two potions that will take longer to work, since we must still consider the possible effects on your magic."

Harry huffed in annoyance. It would just be great if he had another reaction to Snape's damn potions, wouldn't it? Maybe Ron was right, and Snape was a terrible potioneer. Maybe they were all being slowly poisoned by Snape's potions, which were all made wrong. Maybe --

"What are you snorting about?" Snape asked irritably, from somewhere on the other side of the room. "I told you to lie still."

"Nothing," Harry said, out of habit. "Sorry."

He didn't seriously believe any of that, of course, but he felt miserable enough that the thoughts made him feel just a tiny bit better, anyway. It wasn't like he had any other way of relieving his frustrations.

"Do you want me to let Lupin know you've taken ill?"

"No," Harry said quickly. "Please don't bother him."

What he meant, sadly, was that he didn't think Lupin wanted to be bothered. He didn't say that, of course. What was the point of complaining to Snape about something like that?

"Then lie still."

I AM lying still, Harry said. But not aloud. Aloud, he said, "Yes, sir."

Some time later, Snape made him drink another potion and replaced the cloth, but wouldn't let him up.

It was somewhat disconcerting to be lying there with an impenetrable whiteness over his eyes, as good as blind, while Snape moved around the room. Harry could hear him picking things up and putting them down, as well as various other noises that suggested Snape was merely getting ready for the day, rather than doing anything that Harry needed to worry about. He would rather see Snape, instead of only being able to guess where Snape might be relative to the couch.

He decided he might as well talk, since he had to lie there for an unknown length of time.

"Sir?"

"What is it now?" Snape asked, putting something down with what sounded to Harry like a very impatient sort of thud.

"Malfoy," Harry said, simply. He already had an idea that Snape wouldn't want to hear him out, so there was little point in wasting his breath on a long-winded explanation.

Snape breathed out a long-suffering sigh. "Go ahead, if you must."

"I..." Harry began, suddenly realizing he had forgotten to think up a good story, like he had intended. His brain really had been fried by fever, hadn't it? "I only took a bit of Dreamless Sleep, so I woke up and went out to... to see if it was still early enough to continue our conversation." He paused, just in case Snape was going to see that right away for the lie it was. "And I... got lost... because... I didn't have the map with me. Then... I was in this corridor and Malfoy was there, too, and he was spying on you and Professor Lupin."

Snape was silent. Since Harry couldn't see him, he had no way of knowing what that meant.

"He heard a lot," Harry hurried on. "You and Professor Lupin were obviously talking about me, and Malfoy knew it. He said he knew you'd gone from the castle after dinner, and he knew it was to check on me wherever I was being hidden. Those were his exact words. He's spying and he's... he's keeping track of what you're doing, and he's --"

"That's enough," Snape said, calmly. "I am aware of all of this, I assure you. What you heard was at least partly rehearsed. There is no point trying to convince Draco, or anyone else for that matter, that we do not know where Harry Potter is. Even the Ministry is no longer pretending to believe that. Our task remains to keep everyone convinced that you are not at Hogwarts."

Harry listened silently. Although Snape had predictably shot down Harry's attempt to warn him about Malfoy's behavior, it had been a while since Harry had been told much about what was going on in the outside world. He wasn't going to do anything to make Snape stop talking.

"It is true that we left the castle, but the rest is entirely conjecture on Draco's part. Don't allow your animosity to cloud your judgment; Draco is exceptionally bright and he has been trained to be alert to everything that goes on around him. Unlike most people you will come in contact with, he is capable of using logic and reasoning. I tell you this so you will know not to let your guard down."

Though he wasn't even sure he knew what all the words Snape had used meant, Harry nodded, causing the white cloth to slip down his nose a bit, and Snape to adjust it before Harry could reach for it himself. Startled to find that Snape had got so close without Harry hearing him approach, he had to stifle a surprised gasp.

"I am entirely unsurprised," Snape went on, "that he is suspicious of you. If I know him as I believe I do, he will keep those suspicions to himself, even should he acquire proof. He is unlikely to confront you, as I suspect some of your friends may do."

Harry immediately thought of Hermione. "Hermione."

"Yes," Snape agreed. "However, she is not the only one who is suspicious. Not," Snape added, sounding he was only saying it reluctantly, "because of anything you've done, but because it is the nature of humans to question things that seem too contrived, convenient, or coincidental."

"Oh."

"We have not done all we can, yet. There are ways to allay suspicions or at least delay the time when someone might take their suspicions to an unacceptable level. Trust that we are working on it even now, and merely haven't seen fit to involve you, yet. I believe Lupin shared one such plan with you, involving the Map?"

"Yes," Harry said. "I think the second map has to be finished first, though."

"We will give you further instructions when we are ready to put that plan into action. Now," Snape said, apparently deciding the subject was closed. "How does your head feel?"

Harry thought for a few moments. "Better... I think. Not stuffy anymore. Still sluggish. The headache's almost gone."

"Hmm." There was a sound of Snape rummaging around a drawer or cabinet. "I can give you a small dose of Clarity Tonic. It is not as strong as Wit-Sharpening Potion, and should not have any undesirable effects. Sit up. You can take that off."

Harry pulled the cloth off his face, realizing only when his still-damp skin tingled that the cloth must have been soaked in a potion, not just water. He pulled himself up, expecting his head to protest the movement, but feeling nothing.

Snape was holding out a glass with a red liquid, which smelled of raspberries and something sharp that prickled Harry's nose when he brought the glass up to his face.

He drank it, and the fog between his ears started to lift.

The pleasantness didn't last long, however. Snape had sat down opposite from him, and was eyeing him in a way that made Harry certain they were not done with their conversation. He waited uncomfortably for Snape to say something.

"Something is bothering you," Snape said, finally. "And I would rather find out now what it is."

"A lot of things are bothering me," Harry said, and immediately recoiled. He had not meant to say that -- not at all -- and certainly not in the flippant tone that had got him in trouble with Snape many times before.

Snape smiled crookedly, as if enjoying Harry's reaction. "I have not slipped you a truth serum. However, Clarity Tonic can lend clarity to speech as well as to thought."

Harry, outraged just the same as if Snape had force-fed him Veritaserum, immediately decided to be vigilant about what came out of his mouth. In this case, he decided to keep his mouth tightly shut.

Snape's black eyes had a glint to them that made Harry look away, just in case.

He thought quickly. If he said nothing, which was what he was tempted to do, Snape would only keep after him. He would have to tell Snape at least something that sounded plausible, and he couldn't very well lie, so he would have to share one of his very real, very personal problems. He didn't want to, but he saw no way around it.

"It's... well, it's..." He stalled for another few seconds, finally settling on something he didn't think would lead down any particularly thorny paths. "I missed my birthday."

It was a simple statement, and on the surface it didn't seem like something that would much matter, but to Harry it was a rather sore point. It had been a sore point all through his childhood with the Dursleys. It wasn't a wound, exactly, but it was a bruised spot that still hurt a bit when prodded, so he didn't like anyone to know. The fact was, however, that it was the lesser of the things he was keeping back, and unless he wanted to tell Snape about the snitch or the bottled memory or the horcrux that was still inside him, he would have to bear whatever mean or disparaging remark Snape chose to make about it.

Snape simply looked at him for a while. "Missed it?" he repeated. "I'm not sure I follow. Your birthday is today, is it not?"

"Well... yes," Harry said, already on the defensive. "But I've always celebrated it at midnight."

Snape continued to just look. Harry did not much like it; he found he would prefer the sneers come quickly, before he shared too much.

"I'd tell myself happy birthday and so on... because... because it's not like anyone else would." He gave Snape a suspicious look from underneath the strands of hair that had fallen into his face. Snape hadn't yet commented, but that probably meant he was thinking up something really cruel. "That way I wouldn't have to go the whole day thinking about how nobody cared it was my birthday."

"I see."

Harry scowled. He didn't know what Snape meant by that, but just in case Snape thought maybe the Dursleys didn't celebrate birthdays at all, he decided to set that record straight. "They celebrated their own son's birthday."

"I'm sure they did."

Harry looked up at him, still scowling.

"Petunia would have delighted in raising her Muggle son up on a pedestal."

Harry let the scowl slide off his face. Snape had caught him off guard. "You knew her, didn't you? That's why she had such a fit when she saw you in her house."

"Yes," Snape said, in a tone more suitable for commenting on the weather. "I knew Lily's sister well enough to know she would be an unsuitable guardian for a magical child."

"But Dumbledore -- !" Harry reeled himself in with great effort. That had to be the potion talking. He was not going to talk about what Dumbledore had done. Not to Snape. Not ever. He would cut out his own tongue before he did that, after what Snape had told him about Dumbledore and the things Dumbledore had done that Harry hadn't even known about.

Snape waited, but perhaps Harry's expression told him there wasn't any chance more would be forthcoming, because when he spoke he avoided the subject of Dumbledore entirely. "You may be pleased to know that you have not, in fact, missed your birthday. You were born close to midnight, missing by seconds being born on August the first, and so to have celebrated last night would have been a full day premature."

Harry shrugged, not bothering to point out that at issue was not the time of his birth -- which, however, he quickly filed away, as he had never known it -- but that he was once again looking at a long day of having to pretend it didn't hurt him to know he didn't matter to anyone. Snape wouldn't understand, anyway.

"Had you wanted to celebrate your birthday," Snape went on, irritation creeping into his voice, "you were told a number of times to make those arrangements with Lupin. Since you chose not to do so, you will have to wait until tomorrow for any sort of fanfare."

"I wasn't looking to be made a big deal of," Harry said, looking resolutely down at the floor. "I don't know why you're so determined to believe that. I'm not even looking to get any gifts, and I don't care..."

"Hmm." Snape sounded like he didn't believe that for a moment. "If you say so. Was there anything else?"

"No."

"In that case," Snape said dismissively, "go change. I will not have you walking into the Great Hall looking like you slept in your clothes."

"Yes, sir," Harry said, never so glad for a reason to escape. "Thanks... er... thank you for the potions."

Snape blinked in what might have been surprise, but his expression remained unchanged. "You are welcome for the potions," he said, inclining his head. "Now go change before you make yourself late... again."

Harry managed to get to his room and rummaged through his dresser for clean clothes. At the rate he was going, he would need to ask Snape about laundry again.

Or maybe he would ask Dobby. The idea came to him in a flash; maybe that Clarity Tonic really was doing something to make his brain work a bit better than usual. He knew how to do it -- he had known ever since Malfoy had shown him, that time they'd had tea in the Slytherin common room -- but somehow it had never occurred to him before. Dobby could be very useful. He would have to think about just how useful, and not forget about Dobby again.

As he pulled open the bottom drawer, he remembered that was where he was hiding all manner of things he wasn't supposed to have, and he quickly resolved to find a much better hiding place. He checked that everything was still there -- the snitch, the bottled memory, and the photographs -- and made sure they were still covered up.

Seeing the photos made another idea pop into his head, but he only filed it away for the time being, not willing to let it take hold. Letting Snape know about the photos was just as likely to result in them being taken away.

On his way to breakfast, Harry saw Hermione and Ginny ducking into a room up ahead. It was one of the small chambers that opened out into the Entrance Hall, and he would have to pass it to get to where he was going. He still had a long way to walk when the two came out again, heads close together and whispering, and they didn't look his way.

Harry simply couldn't help a quick look inside as he passed the open doorway.

Lupin was there, standing in front of the massive fireplace that took up the entire back end of the narrow room. There was no fire, and there was only enough light for Harry to see that the fireplace was filled with something brightly colored and shiny.

As Harry watched, Lupin picked up something brightly-colored and shiny off the table behind him, and tossed it carelessly into the fireplace. It landed on top of all the other brightly colored, shiny things, which Harry suddenly knew for what they were. They were gifts.

His mind went numb. But that was all right, because his feet flew past the doorway like they had minds of their own, and it wasn't until he had locked himself in a bathroom stall that he recalled fireplaces at Hogwarts were not only used to burn things.

He came out of the stall and turned on the tap, letting the water run over his hands and collect in the sink.

He felt stupid for having forgotten something as basic as that, and for thinking that Lupin would burn his gifts, no matter how angry Lupin might be with him. He had just reacted to the shock of seeing.

"I'm an idiot," he told his own reflection.

He dropped his head into his hands, willing his heart to stop beating so erratically. He had reacted before thinking, and he had been warned about that --

"Hadrian? Are you all right?"

This was the third time Snape had asked him that question. Too many for one morning, especially after Harry had been told explicitly that he needed to be more cautious and not draw so much attention to himself.

Snape had opened the bathroom door, though he did not step inside. Harry didn't know what he might have said to Snape, but he was seeing Snape in the mirror, and right behind, almost entirely hidden behind Snape's robes, was a familiar head of curly brown hair.

"I'm fine, Dad," Harry said, trying to force his voice into the right tone. "But I think I should have taken that stomach settling potion, after all."

"Would you like me to get you some?"

"Oh, no, thank you," Harry said. "It's passed now. I think it was just walking up all those stairs on an empty stomach that did it."

"A reasonable assumption, since you missed dinner last night," Snape said, quite agreeably. "It should pass once you've had breakfast."

"I'll be right there. Just give me a minute."

"We shall wait for you, as long as you don't take too long."

"Thanks, Dad."

Snape-in-the-mirror looked at him with an odd expression. He thought maybe it was approval, and that maybe the reason it looked odd was because Snape rarely approved of anything and his face wasn't used to it. It might even have been a small smile, which would have been just as odd.

Anyway, Harry wasn't even sure he had actually seen it, because the door shut and hid Snape from view.

It was a great example of the bizarre and unnerving things pretending to be Hadrian was doing to his brain. He had felt an odd throb of something, a small thrill -- although that wasn't exactly the right word for it -- at the thought that Snape approved of something he had done. And it wasn't the first time, either. He had felt it once that morning already, when Snape had admitted, however grudgingly, that Harry hadn't done anything specific to make his friends suspicious.

He reminded himself that he didn't need Snape's approval. That wasn't why he was willing to put himself through all this. He was doing it because it might keep his friends at least a little bit safer. Because it allowed him to be at Hogwarts, and would allow him to continue with classes even if the Ministry didn't let up before the school year started. Because Lupin had told him it was the only good plan they had been able to come up with.

It had nothing, nothing, to do with Snape. He had given up on gaining Snape's approval years ago; it had happened some time after his very first Potions lesson. He had given up on wanting his approval at some point after that, though it wasn't as easy to pin it down to one particular incident. Something about wearing Hadrian's face just made him forget all of that, for some reason.

Sighing, he splashed cold water on his face and leaned on the counter, liking how the cool, smooth surface felt against his wrists, where blood still pulsed too fast.

He was calm now, and with the calm came a new thought. An idea, really. It was being in a bathroom that had pulled the idea out of his brain. Maybe the Clarity Tonic had something to do with it. In any case, he was a bit impressed with himself for thinking of it, because it was usually one of his friends -- all right... it was usually Hermione -- who had ideas like this.

Becoming Voldemort's horcrux had given Harry the ability to speak to snakes. He had Dumbledore's word for it as well as Snape's, so he didn't doubt it was most likely true. It stood to reason, then, that if he still had a piece of Voldemort's soul in him, he wouldn't have lost the ability.

There were probably ways to find out using some spell he could research in the library. That's what Hermione would have done, first thing. But Harry didn't need books and spells, because there was one way to find out that he already knew would be reliable.

Out of time and not wanting Snape to come in search of him again, he straightened his shirt and left the bathroom, burdened even more than he had already been by the addition of Try to get into the Chamber of Secrets to the long list of impossible tasks he had to tackle.