1997 

“I’m glad you’re back.” Harry knew he should have been embarrassed that his voice came out a little wobbly, but he didn’t care.

“I’m sorry we’re late,” Ginny whispered into his neck. She showed no signs of allowing him to step back so Harry pulled her closer. “International Portkeys are a nightmare…”

“You’re here,” Harry told her. It was all that mattered anyway. He bent his head so that his cheek brushed against her face. He could feel her jaw trembling as he kissed the hollow beneath her earlobe.

“Harry…”

A twinge of unease tickled Harry’s gut again. But he refused to acknowledge it. Refused to believe that Ginny had come out had come out here for anything but a welcome homecoming.

“Everything’s all right,” Harry heard himself saying—as if she was far away and he was speaking through a very dense fog.

“I don’t…”

Harry had to fight his almost overpowering instinct to pull her closer and pretend she hadn’t spoken. But Ginny’s fingers had slipped from the back of his neck and her tight hold was starting to slacken, so Harry reluctantly let his arms fall as well and stepped back.

Ginny was staring up at him. Her chocolate brown eyes were as beautiful as they’d always been.

“Do you want to take a walk?” he blurted. Maybe if they walked, she’d forget what she wanted to say. Or she’d realize she didn’t want to say it at all…

Ginny bit at the inside of her lip and nodded.

“Are you cold?” he asked as they turned away from the cliff.

Ginny didn’t look at him as she shook her head, but Harry told himself it didn’t mean anything. Everything was fine.

The sound of the breaking water, and the Manor itself, faded behind them as they walked.

No one stopped them, and as far as Harry could tell, no one was standing on the steps of the Manor, spying on them.

“Did you have a good time in Romania?” Harry asked in a forced conversational tone after they’d walked for several minutes, and once they’d passed through the clearing. There was a dense forest beyond, but Ginny showed no signs of wanting to stop.

“No… Hedwig came with your letter just before your dad’s Patronus.”

Harry nodded and they continued on through the trees; he couldn’t think of anything to say.

“How is your father?” Ginny asked next, in a tone that suggested they were nothing more than polite acquaintances.

But Harry didn’t want to talk about his dad. He was still simmering with anger, even through the mass of anxiety he was feeling about Ginny.

“He’s not mourning his mother.”

Ginny nodded in understanding.

Harry had no idea where he was going, but he couldn’t stop walking.

Harry?

Startled by the sudden mental intrusion, Harry almost stumbled over a root in his path. His father’s hastily constructed barrier had fallen again and Harry felt the sudden rush of warmth he’d been missing since their earlier row.

Where are you?

His earlier resentments and hurt at his father’s refusal to tell him what was going on flared again.

With Ginny, he answered tersely.

The flames flickered—a mental blink of surprise. It is getting late. Ginny’s parents are looking for her. And I would like to speak with-

Ginny and I are talking, Harry interrupted. We’ll be back later.

Harry-

Harry very carefully tucked his wisp away. He could still hear the echo of his father’s words—calling his name, but he could ignore it.

And he did.

“Did you see any dragons?” Harry asked to distract himself from the niggle of guilt chewing at him now.

The foliage was becoming sparser as they walked on.

“Charlie took us to see some nestlings.”

“Yeah?” This was a nice, safe topic.

“Mmmhmm… they were bigger than your little… what did you call it?”

“A kylaria… Levi.”

Ginny nodded.

There safe topic came to an abrupt close, and Harry struggled for something else to say. They were just pushing their way through the last of the feathery green trees. A tiny stretch of beach greeted them… completely secluded.

The day was turning to dusk, lighting a strip of pink and gold sky on the water’s edge.

“It’s beautiful…” Ginny breathed, mesmerized. Harry smiled and dropped slowly, so that he was sitting in the soft sand, and after a moment’s hesitation, she sat beside him. His hand brushed hers as she settled in.

“Are you… going back to Romania…?”

Ginny shook her head as she stared at the dark blue water; it was just beginning to break over the sand. A tiny blossom of hope peeked through the dark cloud which had been stewing over them.

“Ginny, I-” Harry started to say, leaning in toward her, but Ginny pulled back abruptly.

“Harry…”

With a knot in his stomach, Harry closed his mouth. Ginny tilted her face up so that she was gazing right into his eyes. Searching. She blinked several times.

“I’m sorry about what happened at my house,” she finally said softly; her fingers were like clamps as they dug into the sand next to her legs.

“It’s all right,” Harry murmured. Ginny’s ginger hair swished over her cheekbones as she shook her head.

“I should have explained…”

Harry struggled to keep his voice even. “Explained what?”

“It was really hard to see Hermione so flustered,” Ginny said. “Maybe it’s because I never really thought about what it might really mean… if we were to…” Ginny took in a shaky breath when Harry nodded to show he understood. “And mum and I had a long talk-” Ginny was blinking rapidly again. “Don’t be angry with her... it isn’t her fault.”

Her fault… The words were echoing through Harry’s conscience.

“What isn’t?” he asked hollowly as he watched Ginny’s eyes become shiny.

“Harry…” The word was a quietly gulped breath, and it was all Harry could do not to fold her against his chest and refuse to let her finish. “I’ve thought about it so many times… wanted to so many times.”

Harry’s eyebrows came together as he stared down at her in confusion. That hadn’t been what he’d been expecting her to say, but oddly the words, which should have thrilled him, left him feeling even emptier. Tears were gathering in Ginny's eyes now.

“So have I…” He needed her to know that he felt the same way. Ginny nodded jerkily, and before he lost his nerve—he wouldn’t be a coward, not even about this—he added what she obviously couldn’t say, “And we're only going to want it more.”

The truth hung over them as fragile as crystal, making Harry feel like the world would shatter if he moved.

“I have two more years until I graduate,” Ginny said, her voice almost hoarse from forcing the tears at bay. “I’m not ready, but I don’t think I could wait… and that scares me.” Her lips trembled but no tears escaped.

“I know,” Harry said, his own voice a shade too hoarse for his comfort. “I would never ask you to do anything you didn’t want to do.” He was only repeated what he'd told her before. The words had meant something to her once.

“But I would want to.” A tear slipped past Ginny's lashes. “I just need some time, Harry… Maybe if we just slow down…”

“Slow down…” Harry repeated dully.

“I’m sorry, Harry,” Ginny whispered. “It’s just too fast… all of it.”

It felt like something was lodged in Harry’s diaphragm and he could no longer breathe.

Ginny was babbling then, but Harry barely heard her. “I don’t want to ruin it… Hermione said she felt like she didn’t really know Ron—the way he acted… we’re too young… Ron wasn’t even there when Hermione needed him and I always thought he was in love with her… She said she loved him…”

She trailed off, and they sat side by side as the moonless night tightened its noose. The breeze was beginning to pick up but Harry didn’t feel the cold wind. He was already too numb. They sat there together, the silence cloaking them, neither one of them mentioning that it would be nearly impossible to find their way back to the Manor in the darkness.

--

“Potter.”

Dreams weren’t supposed to be shaky. At least, not dreams of walking barefoot through tall, golden grasses with Ginny. When she was barefoot as well-

“Wake up, Potter. Harry!”

Someone was shaking his shoulder. Someone with a haughty voice. “Merlin, Potter, wake up, would you?” Someone who was annoyed.

Harry dragged his eyes open. He squinted against the light only centimeters from his face.

“Malfoy?”

“Bloody hell, Potter. You’re in so much trouble. ” Draco grabbed his elbow and began tugging him upward; the light from his wand bobbed dizzily.

“What?” Harry asked fuzzily; he sat up slowly, his eyes blinking rapidly now as he tried to take in his surroundings. He was sitting in sand, on the beach where he and Ginny had come at dusk. Ginny was sitting beside him, her ginger hair tangled around her face. She looked just as confused as he felt.

“At least they’re already dressed.”

Harry squinted as he looked up; a tall, lean shadow was illuminated by the moonlight. “August?”

What the hell was going on?

The tall shadow sighed and leaned down. “If you’re not going to call me Auggie, just call me Owen,” he said with a shake of his head. “And would you get up already? Your father is going to kill you. To say nothing of Ginny’s dad…”

“What are you talking about? And what do you mean, ‘at least we’re dressed’?” Harry demanded in exasperation, but he accepted Auggie—or Owen’s hand and allowed himself to be pulled to his feet. He offered his own hand to Ginny as soon as he was standing and pulled her up.

“It’s nearly two o’clock,” Draco explained. “We’ve been searching for you for hours.”

Ginny and Harry exchanged startled glances. “You have?”

“Professor Snape organized search parties,” Owen said as he looked around. “And we’re supposed to set off this firework now that we’ve found you—your brothers had some with them, oddly enough,” he said to Ginny. He plucked a star-shaped firework from his pocket and activated it by tapping one of the points. It shot into the sky and erupted in a spray of green and orange sparks. “Everyone is supposed to meet back at the Manor—the front steps.”

“Brilliant,” Harry muttered.

“We won’t tell them we found you asleep together,” Owen said with a shrug.

“I think they might come to the conclusion on their own,” Draco pointed out.

“We didn’t-” Harry closed his mouth at Draco’s skeptical look. It wasn’t any of his business anyway. As the sparks rained downward, fizzling out, his father’s flames burst with life again. Harry cringed as his father called his name; it was if the flames were burning him.

Harry?! The call was nearly as frantic as Harry had ever heard it.

Yes, I’m here, he answered resignedly. And I’m all right, he added quickly before he was asked. There was no coherent rage; just the flames snapping furiously. Perhaps ignoring his father earlier hadn't been such a good idea...

“I don’t even remember falling asleep,” Ginny was saying; her teeth were chattering a bit. She rubbed briskly at her arms.

“Here,” Harry said, shrugging out of his formal robes. Before Ginny could protest, he draped the heavy fabric around her shoulders and fastened the clasp. His hands lingered around the clasp, as he found himself caught in her unexpected smile.

“Thanks,” she murmured softly. Harry nodded, feeling shaky all over again. A wisp of her hair blew over her cheek then, and automatically his fingers strayed to brush it away. Her smile wobbled a little and Harry immediately regretted it. He regretted being found even more. He would have liked nothing more than to kiss her right then, no matter that she’d said they needed to spend some time apart...

“Maybe next time, the two of you should think about some tents or least a Warming Charm or two if you plan to spend the night outside,” Draco said with a pointed look at Harry’s wand which was sticking out of Harry’s trousers pocket.

“Didn’t you even hear Harry?” Ginny asked with a bit of a bite to her tone now. “We didn’t plan it.”

Draco and Owen exchanged looks as they turned around. “The Manor is this way,” Owen said, which cut off Ginny’s retort.

“We weren’t lost,” she said instead; her irritation was growing steadily now that they weren’t alone.

“How long have you been looking for us?” Harry asked, fighting his natural instinct to reach out and take Ginny’s hand as they followed the other two.

“All night,” Draco said sourly; he wrapped his own cloak around himself as the breeze whipped his blond hair. “Severus is pretty mental when it comes to you, you know.”

Yes, Harry did know; he ignored the observation however. “Who else is looking for us?”

“Everyone who was still there when you pulled your little disappearing act,” Draco answered.

“We weren’t-”

“Listen, Potter,” Draco interrupted, “I don’t care if you and Ginny were shagging. You don’t need to deny it for my sake.”

Without warning, Ginny grabbed Draco’s arm and spun him around. Draco’s wide, silver eyes glinted in the moonlight. Ginny jabbed her wand, which was now lit by a Lumos, close to Draco’s face. “You can just keep your filthy thoughts to yourself, Malfoy, or I’ll hex your mouth closed for you.”

Ahead of them, August snorted. He held his hands up in surrender when Ginny turned her glare on him. “Funny image,” he told her through a grin. A familiar jealousy clawed at Harry then, and he very suddenly began to feel like his stomach would twist itself into so many knots, it might never untangle. She’d only wanted to slow things down. It was easier to breathe if he didn’t question it. He'd let her have some time... that was all she needed to sort everything out-

“Harry? You coming?” August called from ahead. Harry ducked his head, away from Ginny’s dark brown eyes and began walking again.

They continued onward, Ginny walking ahead of Harry, but not quite catching up with August, off the tiny stretch of beach and through the dense forest of trees again. It was too dark to seem familiar to Harry; he didn’t even try to retrace his steps, allowing August and Draco to lead the way. Good thing August had come, he supposed. Since alone, Harry wouldn’t have trusted Draco to lead him anywhere.

“Couldn’t you and Ginny have found a secluded spot a bit closer to the Manor?” Draco complained as he picked his way over a fallen log.

Harry ignored him—pointedly he hoped. But Draco didn’t take the glaring hint.

“Why did you even need to find such a private place, if you weren’t doing anything?”

“We were talking. Ever heard of it?”

Draco glanced sideways at him. “Touchy, aren’t we?”

“Yes.” Maybe that was pointed enough. Draco pursed his lips; he leaned his head in closer to Harry’s.

“Look. Severus was pretty upset… but I guess he will be more relieved that you’re all right than angry because he had to look for you all night.” He shrugged when Harry turned his head to stare at him. “And there’ll be too many people there to do anything right away… so maybe if you explain quickly, it won’t be as bad.”

As bad? Harry didn’t think the Slytherin was talking about Severus lecturing him.

“Thanks,” Harry murmured, unsure what else to say. Draco shrugged again.

“I just know Severus has a temper, that’s all. He’s like my father that way,” he said quietly. Harry felt disloyal somehow when he didn’t refute Draco’s assumption that Severus would discipline him the same way Lucius disciplined Draco, but he couldn’t seem to bring himself to explain it after Draco had made himself vulnerable.

He met Draco’s eye again, and the other boy smiled just a little and turned his head forward again. They continued on in silence. The trees began to thin after they’d walked for a long time, finally fading into the clearing near the cliff where Ginny had first met him. Ron and Hermione, with McGonagall between them, were already coming toward them.

“Are you all right?” Hermione was calling anxiously. She hugged both of them tightly and then August, thanking him and Draco. Ron folded his hands over his chest and scowled, first at Hermione and August, and then at Harry.

“You aren’t hurt?” McGonagall demanded tartly, looking them over with narrowed eyes.

“No ma’am,” Harry said.

“Where were you?” Ron demanded.

“We took a walk,” Ginny said wearily; she bunched Harry’s cloak around her shoulders as the wind whipped the fabric around her. “We were talking and we fell asleep.”

“You expect us to believe that?”

“It’s none of your business,” Ginny retorted.

“Ron, just leave it,” Hermione suggested quietly.

“They were asleep when we found them,” August volunteered from beside her. Ron narrowed his eyes, his gaze snapping between August and Hermione, but seemed to find it prudent not to challenge the taller man.

That wariness didn’t extend to Harry; Ron grabbed his arm as Harry walked past.

“You’ve been alone with Ginny all night,” he said, his voice still heavy with accusation.

Harry pulled his elbow away. “So?”

Ron’s cheeks pinked. “So? You disappear with Ginny for hours, just to talk? Where the hell did you go?”

“Bugger off, Ron,” Harry snapped. He wanted Ron to yell back, or better move a little closer, so that he could shove him. Or hex him, though that wouldn’t be nearly as satisfying as a good shove.

“You disappeared with my sister all night!”

“We didn’t do anything, you stupid git!” Harry yelled. “We never did anything!”

“Like hell you didn’t!” Ron snarled, pushing his face right up to Harry’s. “Do you think we’re all stupid? What were you doing all night, eh?”

“None of your damned business!” Harry shouted; he shoved Ron’s shoulder so that Ron was no longer breathing in his face.

“So you did do something then!” Ron retorted loudly and then Harry was being shoved with two hands against his chest, and away from his best mate. Incensed, Harry could have punched Ron right in the jaw, but Ron had had hours to stoke his own anger and he swung first as Harry straightened up.

“Ron!” two female voices protested in one breath as Harry was knocked backward into Draco. Harry could have sworn as Draco grabbed his arms and righted him again, that the Slytherin was grinning.

Pulling himself away from Draco, Harry launched himself at Ron, who was ready, and apparently quite willing to fight. But there wasn’t much of a chance.

“Harry!”

“Ron?”

Harry struggled as he was yanked away from Ron. “What’s going on?” It was Remus’ voice next to his ear.

“What the hell are you doing, Ron?” That one was Bill, who was fighting to restrain a flailing Ron.

“Harry spent the night with Ginny, that’s what’s going on,” Ron managed to say as he struggled for breath.

Harry opened his mouth, about to retort or to re-launch himself at Ron if Remus would allow it, but Ginny stepped between the two mates.

“We didn’t do anything, Bill Weasley, so you just wipe that look off your face. You two as well,” she added coldly to the twins as they appeared behind Ron and Bill. “And as for you, Ron-”

“Ginny,” Remus interrupted calmly, “I think the best thing is for everyone to cool off. Nothing is going to be solved by yelling at one another… or with blows.”

“It’s Harry’s fault,” Ron began heatedly.

“No, it isn’t,” Harry snapped. Remus gave his bicep a light, admonishing squeeze. Harry swallowed down another angry retort and shook his head. “You’re the one who ruined everything,” he muttered as he wiped his mouth; the back of his hand came away smeared with blood.

Ron’s face was screwed up into an ugly scowl, but Bill nudged him—not exactly gently—with an elbow. “Belt up, Ron,” he said quietly. “Are you all right?” he asked his little sister. Ginny nodded; her hands had relaxed their defiant stance on her hips. “How about you, Harry? All right?”

Though he was surprised to have been asked, Harry nodded. He’d expected Bill to begin an interrogation, at the very least. Not that Bill looked friendly either. Harry looked away from him.

“Will you be all right if I let go now?” Remus asked quietly. At Harry’s quick nod, Remus released him, and then handed him a dampened handkerchief; blood was still trickling from the corner of his mouth.

“Either calm down or Fred and George can take you back home,” Bill was saying to Ron, who still looked like he wanted to land at least one more blow to Harry’s jaw. Harry expected Ron to snap at his brother, but he only muttered under his breath and with Bill’s loosened grip, he wrenched himself away and stomped toward the Manor steps. Fred and George exchanged looks with Bill before following after their younger brother.

Harry glanced at Hermione then. She was staring at Ron’s retreating back with her bottom lip between her teeth. No one spoke as they watched the three Weasleys Disapparate away.

“And he's your best mate?” Draco asked out of the side of his mouth, sotto voce.

“Oh sod off, Malfoy,” Harry said irritably. Draco’s exaggeratedly wide-eyed, offended look didn’t last long. Running footsteps and the sounds of frantic adults crashing through the edge of the forest had the group turning, Harry the most reluctantly. And of course he tensed when Severus stormed through the foliage; Mr. and Mrs. Weasley were coming from the opposite direction but Harry paid little attention to them.

Harry wanted to step back as soon as he met his father’s eyes, but Draco and August were right behind him, blocking his retreat. Harry hadn’t seen his father so livid since he’d Flooed from Severus’ office to Remus’ quarters, all those months ago.

Bill and Remus stepped aside as Severus strode into the clearing; Ginny had already been gathered up into her mother’s trembling arms. Daniel was just a few steps behind Severus and he looked relieved to find Harry there.

Severus’ furious pace slowed a little as he caught sight of Remus’ bloodied handkerchief; it was still in Harry’s hand. “What happened?” he demanded as soon as he was close enough that he didn’t need to raise his voice. Before Harry could answer, his chin was pulled up; his father’s gaze zeroed in Harry’s lip, which by this point was feeling swollen and sore.

“Weasley punched him,” Draco volunteered helpfully.

“Not me,” Bill said quickly when Mr. Weasley turned to gape at him. “Ron.”

“Why?” Severus rapped out, and Harry realized his father was much angrier than he was allowing himself to show.

“Because,” Ginny said as she extracted herself from her mother, “he wouldn’t listen when we tried to tell him that Harry and I fell asleep.” There were four confused faces at that answer—six now as the group was joined by Dumbledore and Margaret.

“We went for a walk and sat down to talk.” She stressed the word, as if should have held some meaning for her parents. “We fell asleep,” Ginny explained again.

Harry would have explained for them, but Severus was still gripping his chin; Harry wondered if he realized he was.

No one said anything.

Ginny crossed her arms over her chest. “We did.”

Her parents glanced at one another, but either they believed her or they didn’t want to press the issue in the overcrowded clearing. “All right Ginny,” Mrs. Weasley finally said. “I think we’d best go on home now. Are you all right?”

“I wasn’t hurt,” Ginny answered, her meaning clear to Harry. Pressure against the sides of his chin had Harry bringing his eyes up to his father’s.

“You and I need to have a lengthy discussion,” Severus said in a low tone, meant for only Harry to hear; it made it more menacing somehow. “In private.”

Harry’s insides reacted unpleasantly to the pronouncement, but he managed not to let on—or so he hoped. “All right,” he answered steadily.

His father narrowed his eyes. He released Harry’s chin. “Say goodnight to Ginny and the others,” he ordered curtly. Annoyed at everyone, but especially his father, Harry wanted to refuse. But it would serve no purpose, since Ginny was leaving anyway with or without a goodbye. Not that it would be much of one anyway, with everyone else gawking at them, and Ginny was standing in between her parents; neither one of them looked like they were planning to leave her side.

“I’m sorry about all of this,” Ginny finally said.

“It isn’t your fault.” It was partly her fault, but Harry wasn’t about to say so.

They stared at each other awkwardly. Mrs. Weasley intervened after a minute. “It’s late…”

Neither one of her parents looked at him as they shepherded Ginny away, Harry noticed. And Bill was silent as he followed them. The final spell to bury the coffin, as far as Harry was concerned. Ginny was gone. All of the Weasleys were gone.

“Severus, Harry’s lip needs tending to.”

Harry barely noticed as Margaret cupped his chin gently and performed a quick diagnostic. His lip and lower jaw began to tingle as she numbed the area.

“Your father can renew the spell if you need it,” she said quietly. Harry nodded silently. “How does that feel now?”

“It doesn’t hurt.”

“Let your father know if it does.” Margaret studied his face a moment longer before letting him go.

“Thank you for assisting in the search for Harry,” Severus said stiffly to those who were still gathered. “Now, if you will pardon us.”

Harry’s mortification quickly changed to anger anew as his father waited pointedly for him to go first before he began walking toward the Manor, as if Harry was a child who needed to be watched at all times.

His anger fizzled measurably though as he found himself past the wide steps in the chandeliered entrance. He really didn’t want to go back to Tobias’ office, but he wasn’t sure if the grand dining hall was the sort of place where one had a row.

The heavy front door closed with a thud behind them and in the silence, he realized his father was no longer following him. Harry turned around slowly; Severus’ lips were taut with fury.

“Explain yourself,” he said tightly, so that his lips barely moved. Problem solved. Apparently his dad wanted to have their row right here under the chandelier.

“We fell asleep.”

“You know perfectly well that that is not what I mean,” Severus snapped. “You refused to acknowledge me when I attempted to speak with you through our connection. When you knew full well that I was looking for you!”

“You put your barriers up,” Harry reminded him quietly. You shut me out first.

“One has nothing to do with the other.” His father’s black eyes were snapping with ire.

Harry didn’t respond; he watched his father’s jaw flex.

”Why did you not answer?” he demanded when Harry allowed the silence to stretch on.

“Ginny and I were talking.”

His calm tone seemed only to irritate his father further. “And you could not spare one moment to answer my summons?”

Harry met the query with silence. What was he supposed to say, except that he hadn’t wanted to answer?

“Have you any idea how worried I was?” Severus went on. “Ginny’s parents were frantic.”

“You knew we were all right,” Harry pointed out. He didn’t exactly mean to make the comment as flippant as it came out.

“No, I did not,” Severus growled and Harry’s stomach flip-flopped. “When I could not contact you, I imagined all manner of scenarios, each more gruesome than the next.”

“I’m sorry,” Harry said quietly, the words coming automatically at the tremor of lingering anxiety in his father’s voice.

“Are you?” Severus demanded.

It would have been easy enough to lie, and part of him even wanted to since his father obviously had no compunction about lying to him. And remembering that—the reason he’d ignored his dad’s mental summons in the first place—stirred his ebbing anger.

He clenched his jaw and glanced away. “No.”

Anger radiated between them, and without even looking Harry knew his father had narrowed his eyes. But Harry didn’t care. He didn’t. He glued his eyes to the massive front doors and waited for his father to continue with his lecture.

“And the fact that you could have put Ginny in danger? Or that you were reckless, inconsiderate and immature?” Severus’ voice was tightly controlled; Harry’s gaze shifted back to his father’s face.

“I wasn’t trying to be,” he said dully; the aching, hollow feeling began to take hold again at the reminder of Ginny.

“Traipsing about all over a property which you are not familiar is your idea of a sound plan?” The sarcasm would have bothered Harry if he wasn’t so numb.

“I wasn’t thinking about it,” Harry said in that same flat tone; he had looked away again.

“What were you thinking about then?” Severus demanded exasperatedly. Harry didn’t answer.

Ginny, he wanted to say. Ginny and how she was about to break up with me…

Severus made a low noise—more of a growl than a sigh. And then a terse, “Come with me,” had Harry’s head jerking up. Severus didn’t wait to see if Harry would obey—he pivoted on a booted sole, clipped down the corridor and made another sharp left so that he was standing in front of the door to Tobias’ study.

Harry stood there, staring down the shadowed corridor, and at the little bit of the study’s cream-colored wall that was visible. Severus made a terse gesture toward the study. Too tired of fighting to even protest another trip into that awful room, Harry complied, even though his feet were heavy as he retraced his earlier steps... thinking about what Draco had said to him.

Severus turned into the room before Harry reached it, and slowly—and wishing he had never overheard Margaret and Remus talking to his father—he stepped into the room. Before he even came to a full stop, his stomach turned to ice. Severus was turning around, back toward the door, the Snape family strap in his hands.

Then his father looked up. His lips, half-open, froze as his dark eyes met Harry’s. Confusion, and then hurt swelled Harry’s storm. Neither of them moved for what seemed like an eternity.

Slowly, as if slow motion, his father closed his mouth. With quiet, unerringly calm footsteps, Severus walked to the fireplace next to an antique grandfather clock, and placed the ruby strap on top of the glowing coals. He flicked his wrist and flames filled the hearth. Harry watched the fire consuming the family heirloom; he didn’t even realize he was staring until Severus turned around.

And then he noticed a scroll in his father’s hand—the same one he’d been reading earlier, before their row. His face perfectly still, Severus handed the scroll to Harry.

“That is why I called you in here,” he said softly, and before Harry could take that in, his father walked past him and out of Tobias’ study.

Harry swallowed through the sudden, painful swelling in his throat as Severus’ footsteps faded down the corridor. The flames were spitting as they burned through the curling and blackening leather. The weight of the past several days settled over Harry like a lead cloak, and his legs seemed unable to support him any longer. He slumped in the chair across from the fireplace. He could feel the moisture gathering in his eyes; he tried to blink it away, to force it back but the effort only clogged his throat even more.