Harry stumbled downstairs. When he saw the entrance to the Great Hall, he paused. The sound of conversation made his stomach turn. He continued down to the kitchens. The house elves would give him food without awkward questions.

He got in and out of the kitchens quickly, as Dobby was elsewhere, and took his packet of food outside. Of their own accord, his steps led him to the Quidditch pitch. He took a school broom, flew up to a goal ring, and settled there to eat his lunch.

Harry had finished his sandwich and was halfway through a slice of lemon cake when he started to feel uneasy. He sat up, one leg on either side of the hoop, and looked around. The stands were empty and the sky clear. Finally, he looked down into the shadowed aisle that led to the changing rooms, and saw Draco Malfoy standing there, leaning back against the wall and watching him. Harry wrapped up the remaining food and flew down.

"Strange place to eat," Draco commented.

"I wanted to be alone."

"That would do it. I wouldn't dine on a perch like some wayward falcon. You're over that now, I presume?"

"For the moment."

Draco motioned to the stands, and then climbed up to the first benches and sat down. Harry joined him, unwrapped his food, and had another bite of the lemon cake. He finished chewing it and swallowed. Draco had not yet volunteered anything.

"Why are you here?" Harry asked.

"I'm watching you." Draco smiled, and it was almost charming. "It's my new hobby."

"Hobby."

"You've become intriguingly unpredictable." Draco regarded him with a shadow of his usual disdain. "I would never have believed you capable of that."

"What did you do in Defense?"

"What did you do?" Draco countered. They looked at each other distrustfully.

"Perhaps we should write down our answers and pass them to each other," Harry said.

Draco nodded, although Harry had been joking. He gestured to Harry's school bag. "Do you have writing things?"

Harry pulled out parchment, quill, ink, and a book to use as a flat surface. Draco took the parchment, folded it, tore it in half, and handed one half to Harry, who wrote. Harry picked up his paper and blew on it, while Draco took a second piece, and Harry's quill and book.

He stared at the book for a moment. "A Guide to Restricted Potions Ingredients?" he read questioningly.

"I'm doing a report on the Dark Arts Components Decree of 1981."

"Oh." Draco still looked curious, but he shrugged, wrote out his answer, and picked it up. "Ready?" In a single move, he and Harry switched papers. Harry looked down to see that he had traded a paper with his messy scrawl saying "Occlumency" for a paper with Draco's elegant script saying "Occlumency." They both grinned.

Draco reached over and tore a piece off Harry's cake. "Who taught you that?" he asked, then popped the cake in his mouth.

"Professor Dumbledore," Harry replied.

Draco looked astonished. "Why?"

"Why do you think?"

"Because the Dark Lord is a Legilimens?

"First try. Good job."

"But why does it matter?"

"The scar. You were right about it."

"Oh. Yes, that would be a problem. I think of Occlumency as Dark Arts, though. That's not supposed to be the headmaster's specialty."

"Isn't it really the opposite?"

"How so?"

"Well, Dark Arts involve use of the emotions. Occlumency is a dropping of emotions."

"Isn't that a sort of use, though?"

"Use by non-use?" Harry teased.

"Yes."

"Oh don't. That sort of thing makes me dizzy."

"Doesn't it matter, though, if you're doing it?"

"No. It's non-optional."

"How pragmatic."

"That was just volume, though," Harry persisted. "How did you do tone? You managed it much better than I did."

"How did you?"

"I just ... I kept my emotions in certain ranges, with my mind open or turned outward."

Draco considered. "That could do it." He smirked at Harry's impatient look. "I pulled together the energy for particular Dark spells -- not casting them, but as if I was preparing to do."

"Oh."

"That high-pitched sound that the werewolf caused -- you could tell there was no intent, just a massing of incidental energy."

"I see." Harry sat back. "At least, I think I do. I need to think it over for a while."

"Let me know if you want to know more."

Harry shot Draco a curious look. "It's odd," he said. "Having you be civil, I mean."

"It's odd having you be civil," Draco retorted. His eyes narrowed. "And I won't drive you off until I find out what you're after."

"I'm just ..." Harry shook his head. "Just tired of fighting. That's all."

"Is it?" Draco eyed him speculatively. "That doesn't nearly explain your behavior, you know. Your behavior to me, perhaps, but not Ron and Hermione, and not ... other things."

"I don't want to talk about Ron and Hermione."

"Really? I was hoping you'd give me some dirt on the Weasel."

"Why don't you just make it up, like you usually do?" Harry asked bitingly.

Draco leaned back. "I'm bored with that. It's too easy." He smiled again, not so charmingly. "Tell me. Why don't they sit with you?"

Harry scowled. "What happened to your bodyguards, Malfoy? They always used to sit with you."

Draco flinched. Harry felt a burst of simultaneous regret and triumph.

"They are no longer required to stay with me." At Harry's politely inquiring look, Draco's haughty look twisted with a bitter smile. "Since my father is, apparently, fallen from favor."

"I've seen Goyle with you, though."

"Gregory's my friend."

"Really?" Harry taunted. "I'd never have known."

Draco looked down, his pale face turning pink. "I wouldn't have done, either."

Suddenly, Harry understood. Crabbe and Goyle had previously been told, by their parents, presumably, to suck up to the Malfoy boy. Draco had always known that, and treated them with familiar scorn. Now they had been released from their obligation, and Crabbe no longer bothered with him. Goyle did.

"How embarrassing," Harry said, trying not to sound too amused or too sympathetic. He did feel sorry for Draco, who was looking unusually cowed.

"Truly," Draco responded. "No telling why he likes me. I always treated him like a servant."

Harry shrugged. "Most people put up with a certain amount of shit from the people they like."

"So you put up with Weasley's stupid jokes and Granger's pedantry."

"And they put up with my screaming fits and sulks," Harry offered.

"So what don't they put up with?" Draco pressed.

Harry rolled his eyes, but felt more generous now that Draco had told him something about his own life. "Over the summer, I discovered I like ... being on my own, sometimes."

"Sounds reasonable."

"They don't like that I won't tell them where I go."

"That doesn't."

"They ... I had an odd summer. They worry about me being alone, or something. I don't get it either, but it is -- or was -- kindly meant."

Draco looked off at the empty pitch. "Does that help?" he asked.

"Not really. It only means I can't be as angry at them as I'd like to be."

Draco snorted. "It seems to me," he said, "if the papers were correct, that your summer wasn't any worse than the rest of your life at home."

"Well, that's it," Harry replied. "It wasn't. The worst part was --" He stopped.

"Well, Harry?" Draco drawled.

"That when I heard they'd died," Harry confessed, "I was ... happy, more than anything. Relieved, I guess."

"And the problem is?"

"They were my relatives. And even if I couldn't love them, I should have mourned them, at least a little. And I should not feel delight at someone dying."

"Why not?"

"Because it's wrong." Harry hesitated. "And Professor Dumbledore says my greatest strength is my ability to love."

Draco laughed. "Even if that's true, you don't need to love people that don't deserve it," he said. He lifted his head with a haughty sneer. "If Dumbledore wanted you to be merciful and loving, perhaps he should have left you with someone kind, who would be good to you."

"He was afraid I'd become spoiled and self-centered."

"Well, he could have given you to the Weasleys, then. They wouldn't have the money or the time, would they?" Draco smirked. "Too late now. Cheer up! It could be worse; you could be under a prophecy."

"What?"

"It's a wizard saying, Potter. 'It could be worse; you could be under a prophecy.'"

"But I am," Harry returned. "Under a prophecy, I mean."

Draco blinked. "Oh. My condolences."

"That was what the mess at the Ministry was, last spring. Voldemort sent me to get the prophecy and your father to take it from me."

"He sent you?"

"With Legilimency. Through the scar."

"Oh." Draco's eyes narrowed as he studied at Harry. "And Occlumency is non-optional. It comes together. He didn't get it, I presume?"

"No. I smashed it."

Draco stared, then slowly smiled. "Good for you. Screw fate." He took the last bit of lemon cake and stood up. "Show me something interesting," he commanded.

"Just like that?"

"Just like that. Can you do it?" Draco challenged.

Harry stood up. He let an answering arrogance show through. "Come with me, then." Harry led Draco out of the pitch and down towards the Forbidden Forest and Hagrid's hut.

"I've seen the wyverns, Potter."

"This isn't a wyvern. It isn't anything of Hagrid's, but it's near there."

Harry led him down to the wyvern cage and around it, to the bushes where he had twice seen the adder. "Snake?" he asked. "Hello. Are you near?" After a moment, he heard a rustling. The adder emerged from the bushes and raised its head to catch their scent on its tongue. Draco jumped in the air and landed a pace back.

"Oh, come off it," Harry said, kneeling and holding his hand out to the adder. "Don't tell me a Slytherin is afraid of snakes."

"I am not! It just startled me, that's all." For all that, Harry noticed, Draco didn't come any closer. The adder did.

"Hello, speaking man," she said.

"Hello, snake. Are you well?"

"Yes. It is still sunny in the afternoon."

"Good."

Harry sat down and the adder zipped over to him. Again, it raised its head and flicked its tongue out for a few seconds, then poked its head, and several inches of its body up the sleeve of Harry's robe. Harry glanced up at Draco as the adder doubled back and poked its head out again. Draco was staring wide-eyed and slack jawed.

Harry spread the front of his robe between his knees. "Bask here. It is sunny, and I will protect you."

The adder consented with a hiss, and flowed out onto Harry's lap, with every inch of it taking the turn in and out of Harry's sleeve. Harry looked back at Draco.

"Sit down, then," he suggested. "Does my little friend qualify as something interesting?"

Draco considered. "No," he decided, "but your conversation does." He sat down, a bit abruptly. "What is it saying?"

"Not much. We both went through variations of 'hi, how are you? I'm fine.' She said the afternoon sun was pleasant and I invited her to bask." Harry looked at Draco. "Now tell me how you heard of the Marauders."

Draco laughed shakily. "Oh, it's not much. But Slytherin House has something they made. House legend is we stole it from them. It's just a slip of paper that displays one's distance to Professor Snape on one side, and is signed "The Marauders" on the other. It's very useful to us, of course. I don't know what they wanted with such a thing. He would have been a student, then."

Harry tried to relax his now clenched jaw.

"They hated him," he forced out. "He hated them. That's all. A quick way to find your enemy." The snake hissed and twisted with his agitation. Harry stroked a hand down its smooth scales and forced himself to relax.

"I suppose that explains why we stole it, then," Draco said lightly. "At any rate, a brief explanation of the name has been passed down with the item itself."

Their conversation grew lighter, and Draco appeared to grow more comfortable with the snake, which settled down in loose, thick coils on the warmth of Harry's black robe.

Ron, Hermione, and Ginny did not find Harry at lunch, so they ate quickly, and then went searching for him. When they still had not found him fifteen minutes before the start of class, Ron and Hermione decided to go to Care of Magical Creatures early, in case he was visiting Hagrid, but Hagrid did not answer the door. They decided to look out back, in hopes he and Harry were with the wyverns.

When they came around the hut, Hagrid was not there. Harry was. He was sitting next to Draco Malfoy, almost on the other side of the aviary, and the two of them were talking quietly and intently. Harry was sitting cross-legged and seemed to be holding something in his lap.

Almost against her will, Hermione walked closer. The thing in Harry's lap resolved into the coils of a large, brown adder, resting with apparent contentment in the hammock formed by Harry's school robes. He was stroking absently down its scaled back, as if it was a kitten, rather than a sizable, poisonous snake. Malfoy was reclined back on a rounded rock, a slightly amused expression on his face and his attention shifting between Harry's face and Harry's lap.

Malfoy looked up. Hermione was certain her expression displayed her horror plainly. She was not at all surprised when Malfoy's gaze glanced disdainfully over her and settled on her companion. Malfoy's refined contempt expanded into a superior smirk.

"Still trailing around after the Mudblood girl, Weasley?" he taunted.

"Draco!" Harry snapped. He looked angry. It was the first encouraging thing Hermione had noticed. His hand had stopped moving.

Malfoy looked innocently back to him. "What?"

"Don't call her that." Harry absently resumed stroking the snake in his lap, but it shifted restlessly, raised up its head, and hissed, first at Malfoy, then at Ron and Hermione. Malfoy pushed back out of striking distance.

"What did it say?" he asked, getting casually to his feet.

"No words," Harry responded. "Snakes pick up what I feel, sometimes, like I pick up what they feel. She can tell I'm upset at all of you." He looked at Malfoy's sullen offense and smiled. "And they have even less tact than an eleven-year-old boy."

Malfoy, to Hermione's surprise, laughed.

"All right, then. I won't promise to play nice, but I'll clear out, for now, with no offense. Later?"

Harry nodded. The eager smile he gave Malfoy hit Hermione like a slap in the face. "Later, then," he affirmed. Still grinning, he leaned down to the snake and hissed at it. Slowly it stilled. Malfoy walked towards Hermione and Ron. As he passed near them, he said quietly:

"Does he know how little you'll sell him for?"

Hermione stumbled. Ron whirled on Malfoy.

"Shut up, Malfoy!"

"You want to have this out in front of him, then?" Malfoy drawled, his voice still quiet. "I can say it louder, if you want." Harry started to set the snake on Malfoy's sunny rock. Hermione guessed he was preparing to come over and intervene.

"Later," Hermione hissed. If Malfoy left, she and Ron could confess to Harry and take the consequences, but if Malfoy told him, they would be in far worse shape. It occurred to her, as she watched the malicious triumph on Malfoy's face, that this had been his intent all along. It was not that he needed such an odd little bit of information, but that he needed a way to blackmail them, or a way to put them down in front of Harry.

"Later then," he purred. He stepped a little closer. "Mudblood," he whispered. Hermione threw an arm out to block Ron's attack.

"Let him go, Ron."

Ron heard the urgency in her voice and fell back. Malfoy gave them a dangerous smile, turned, and swaggered away.

Harry was approaching now. Hermione turned to face him without any chance to speak to Ron.

"What was that about?"

Hermione took a deep breath. "He was threatening to blackmail us."

Harry's eyes narrowed, and he took on a condescending look. "And what have you done?" he asked pointedly.

"We ... He offered me information for something about you that seemed insignificant...."

"And you gave it to him."

Hermione felt herself heat with shame. "Yes."

"What? For what?"

The clipped questions were frightening in their starkness. Hermione looked as apologetic as she could. "What nights you'd been gone -- I didn't see that it could matter, but that's what he asked for --"

"What if it did matter?! What if something was happening those nights and he knew?" Green eyes burned with fury. "You have no idea what trouble you could be causing!"

"It wasn't like -- you weren't there. He was casting around for something to demand. I thought that he'd asked for some random thing just to avoid giving me anything for free." She bit her lip. "Now I realize he asked so he had something to hold over me."

Harry let out a hissing breath, then nodded curtly. "Probably. Just so you know, that information is probably harmless. What did you get?"

Hermione looked down. "Enough information to find Maitland in the library," she whispered.

"Just for your curiosity," Harry said bitingly.

"Yes." Sometimes, Hermione reflected, there was no point in trying to make excuses.

Harry rounded on Ron. "And you?" he asked.

"Oh, I promised him something far more valuable, but I've been intending to tell you." Ron, on the other hand, did not sound the least bit contrite.

"Really?"

"I've promised I'll tell him when you go missing." Ron stepped forward. "So don't, because I will do."

"You wouldn't."

"I will. He says he's seen you in the dungeons."

Harry turned his back on them. "Go away."

"Look, mate --"

Harry whirled back, furious. "Don't you dare!" he screamed. "I am not your mate, I am not your property, and you are not my friend. Go!"

"Class is starting soon," Hermione said timidly.

Harry looked her up and down in a way that made her feel like running. "Soon," he repeated.

"In about ten minutes. We were looking for you." Hermione swallowed. "We wanted to say we're sorry."

"You're not sorry," Harry spat. "You're jealous. Afraid, perhaps. Not sorry."

"Harry, look --" Ron tried.

"Shut up! Just shut up, both of you!" Harry stormed back to the rock and the snake slid back into his lap. When Hermione tried to approach him, he ignored her, and the snake reared up and hissed threateningly. When Ron began to rant and threaten her, she remembered the wyverns and pulled him away to get calming potions for both of them.

Severus had not consciously noticed the sound of approaching footsteps, but he looked up when they stopped at the door to his office. Remus Lupin was standing in his doorway, looking ill and harried. Severus tensed at the sight. He did not speak, but glowered pointedly at his unwelcome visitor.

"I know you dislike my presence," Remus said, his voice low and tense, "but we need to discuss Harry."

"Potter?" Severus answered. His reaction heightened, but he put on an air of slight confusion. "Why would that concern me?"

Remus's face contorted in a quick snarl of rage. He slammed the door shut. "Sonitus Claudere, Odoros Claudere," he chanted quickly, wand out and pointed at the door. He looked back, the rage already under control, but his jaw clenched tight.

"That still falls from your mouth as one spell," Severus noted acerbically. "I'm surprised you even remember it."

Remus scowled. "You may have been my first lover, Severus, but you were certainly not my last. I have used it since I was seventeen."

Severus had not expected Remus to acknowledge the reference. He found himself off balance. "I don't know why you are bothering to block scent now."

"Do you think, if I were walking by this room, I could not tell that you and I were in here, and angry?"

"And what does that mean? That you and I are in this room," Severus sneered, confident again.

"Odd as the thought may be to you," Remus said tightly, "I am often in your presence without anger."

"I am not in yours without it."

That seemed to have struck on target. Remus looked down a moment and swallowed. "Could we ... please? ... restrict this conversation to Harry?"

"And why would I want to talk to you about Harry?"

"Because I am one of his professors, and I am demanding a parent conference!" Remus snarled. "Is that clear?"

Severus sat back and stared at him in astonishment. After a moment, he felt his mouth moving in a smile, and struggled to restrict it to a possibly contemptuous curl of his lip.

"Well then, Professor Lupin -- what have you to say about my son?"

Remus plunged right in. "Harry has been disruptive in my Defense Against--"

"I am aware what you teach, Lupin."

"He interrupted my introduction of how we define Dark Arts several times, to--"

"If you are unable to maintain discipline in your class, I fail to see how this is my concern."

"My concern, which should be yours, is that he does it for Mr. Malfoy's attention."

Remus had not advanced, but he had also not backed off. Severus found himself slightly impressed.

"Your imagination is running away with you, Lupin. Young Malfoy hates Potter, and Potter largely ignores him."

"Oh does he? Let me tell you about this morning's class. I had a Kerner Dark Detector--"

"And Harry set it off?"

"As I expected he would do. In fact, I had called him up to demonstrate that limitation. Then Mr. Malfoy asked if he could try. He stepped forward, slowly, but all the way up to it, without it making a sound."

Severus tried not to show his surprise or his pleasure. He would not have thought Draco had the control.

"He said this was another limitation. The he smiled, and it began to scream--"

"So your complaint is about Malfoy's skill?"

"No. Then Harry said, 'let me try!' and he managed to cut his alarm down to almost nothing, and he looked at Malfoy and waited for the smile. Then the two of them began doing it together -- they changed tone, of all things! -- and Malfoy was impressed, and Harry delighted."

"Delighted in his own skill, perhaps." Severus paused. Reducing volume was a good use of Occlumency, but tone.... He probably just used mood, and managed to approximate. "I'm pleased."

"But Friday, it was all for Malfoy as well," Remus persisted. "Say something, look to see if he gets that little smile, or a nod...."

"You are imagining things."

"No. I saw them walking together after class, when they should have been at lunch. They were headed down towards the forest."

That worried Severus. He tried not to show it. "Perhaps you should talk to Harry."

"I have. He said he wouldn't mind being friends with Draco, but of course he'd be careful.... You know he won't." An impassive stare from Severus made Remus twitch. He looked back in appeal. "It was bad enough watching a peer -- you -- being twisted by Lucius," he said passionately. "Harry is ... well, not like my own child, but the closest thing I will ever have to a young kinsman, and I cannot stand to watch him playing up his darkness for that Malfoy boy!"

"First, Draco is not Lucius--"

"He is just as bad!"

"He is nowhere near as bad. Not much to his credit -- he hasn't the will, or the imagination. Draco is a petty, spoiled child, and if Harry chooses to associate with him, he will grow tired of him quickly. Second, Harry is not me -- again, not near it. Third, were they just like us, Draco would still lack the history that gave Lucius the deepest of his hooks into me. Fourth--" A rising anger spilled over -- "Harry is NONE OF YOUR KIN!" Severus found he had screamed the last, loudly and roughly enough to hurt his throat.

"I won't have children, Severus," Remus said, keeping his voice nearly steady. "With one of my sisters dead and the other estranged from me, I won't have nephews and nieces. As Lily's child -- as James's fostered child -- Harry holds that place in my heart." Remus shuddered visibly. "Even as yours," he added hesitantly. "Don't you know any child of yours would be dear to me?"

Severus wanted nothing so much as to kill the man where he stood.

"Get out!" he screamed. "OUT!"

Remus backed up to the door and opened it, breaking the wards, but to his credit, did not run. "Talk to him," he said stiffly. "He listens to you." With that, he left.

Severus knew he found Remus's affection offensive, and his statement that Harry listened to him, voiced almost as an accusation, frightening. He did not want to think beyond that. Quickly, he resumed reviewing fourth year essays, then, when that did not adequately consume his attention, to read them aloud at a low mutter. They were not nearly good enough to withstand it.