It seemed like an eternity waiting for the first glimmers of sunlight to peep through the blood red tint of his dorm's curtains. Harry shivered; he didn't want to think of blood. He had spent the better part of the night dreaming about it.

There came a yawn just then, off to his right and he felt the first tendrils of warmth spread into his heart like ink in a glass of water—there lay his best friend stretching in the knots of his blankets, a suspiciously fire orange one tucked just beneath the one issued by the school. Harry's warmth grew, knowing how much his friend loved those Chudley Cannons.

Ron smacked his lips a bit, then as if feeling eyes on him, opened his own with great effort to find the source. Within a second's notice he had jumped to a sitting position, wide awake in his worry. Harry was impressed and a bit shocked at the quick response.

"Harry!" Ron hissed, "Have you been up all night?"

"Does…does it show very badly?" Harry deflected, looking back to his knees that he had curled his arms around in his huddled position against his pillows.

Ron immediately scrambled out of his bed, quietly cursing as it took far longer than necessary due to the tangled mess of the bed and his urgency. Harry had to chuckle despite himself. Finally, with a cursory look to the other three boys in the room softy snoring, he climbed into Harry's bed and sitting opposite him while casting a privacy spell.

"Why didn't you wake me?" Ron all but shouted, and Harry winced, unused to the volume change. Ron closed his eyes to calm himself and adjust to a more neutral and softer tone.

"Why didn't you wake me?" he tried again, his inflection telling of his disappointment.

Harry repositioned to be cross-legged, letting his hands drop into his lap, his shoulders still hunched and slumped.

"You were so tired after your detention with Filch last night…" Harry tried to explain. For some reason Snape had felt to inflict even more torture onto Ron for his outburst in class and had since assigned his two weeks' detention with no one but Argus Filch. Harry's detentions had inexplicably remained under Snape's direct watch and care…though care might have been pushing it. At any rate, Ron's detention had been after Astronomy, as Filch had had to delay his own session due to another Peeves vs Myrtle fiasco, and Ron had ended up bearing the brunt of the mess with a mop and a bucket. Harry had waited up for him until two when Ron finally sloshed into the common room, muttered a half-hearted cleaning spell on himself, and promptly fell into bed after a difficult journey up those steps.

Ron shook his head.

"That's no excuse. We made a deal—"

"And it still stands." Harry sighed, dark circles standing out against his pale skin and naked face due to the absence of his clunky glasses. "I just had a hard time getting to sleep is all…and when I finally did I hadn't cleared my mind fully and ended up with some rather unstable dreams."

"Want to talk about it?" Ron offered after a moment.

"It was just…blood. All over me. Everywhere." Harry spoke in stilted, soft tones, his voice heavy with emotion. "It was almost like The Shining…" Harry muttered to himself, and though Ron caught it, he didn't get the reference.

"Has Occlumency been able to help at all?" Ron asked hopefully, eager to ensure Harry clear his mind fully next time so as to avoid this horrible nightmare. It was wasn't a new one, sadly. It has been one of Harry's rarer but most graphic ones, and it had been months since he last had it. What made it worse was the lack of narrative, of reason. It was as if Harry's mind wanted to hurt him even in sleep.

Harry leaned back into his pillows.

"Not truly. Not the way it's supposed to. I never got the hang of it. Draco even tried to help a bit, but it was no use. The most successful Occlumens had been Snape. No one else came close to him; even the mind healers at St. Mungo's hesitated to try anything more advanced with me because of that." Harry confessed. "I can at least shield my thoughts from a light brushing, but nothing more. Clearing my mind has been helpful in filtering out at least this kind…the more visual ones." Harry had twisted his pajama sleeve into an awful crunched up ball in his other hand. "But it's gotten harder since we've been back."

Ron gulped a moment, fighting the urge to run out into the corridor and down into the dungeons and bang on Snape's office door to help Harry right then. With a touch of bitter anger, he wondered if Snape would even listen, if he would even help Harry, without being forced to by the headmaster as he was in their timeline.

"I'm sorry, Ron. I'm trying, I really am." Harry voiced, with a hitch in his tone due to restrained emotion, incorrectly translating the now disgruntled anger in his friend's face. Ron blinked then relaxed his features as he moved closer to Harry.

"No! I'm not mad at you!" Ron huffed a heavy sigh, closing his eyes and trying to curb the magic crinkling inside him. "I'm mad at Snape."

"What? What for? It's not his fault I'm a freak—" Harry began, but Ron had him by the shoulders now and Harry felt the electricity of the magic thrumming in his friend's fingertips. Harry's hair immediately stood on end, more so than usual. Harry almost felt like something around them had broken unintentionally, but the fervor of Ron's harsh whispering distracted him from the thought.

"Don't you dare call yourself that! It's what those nasty muggles told you, isn't it? Isn't it?!" Ron breathed, pain and anger in his deep blue eyes.

"Ron I can't have this conversation with you this morning." Harry weakly sidestepped, trying to turn away to get out of bed while Ron's larger form held him firmly in place.

"I'm right, though, aren't I?" Ron almost pleaded, trying to catch Harry's gaze while the dark-haired boy weakly thrashed against his grip.

"Please Ron, let me go!" Harry furiously hissed back, his voice in anguish. His emotions were still too fresh and raw from the nightmare. "I don't want to talk about the Dursleys, not here, not now!"

Ron immediately let go and pushed back against the mound of comforter that lay in Harry's bed.

"I don't…not right now, please. Not after the night I've had." Harry pleaded in a tired voice, slowly getting up and going to his trunk.

"I'm sorry." Ron said after a moment of watching Harry fumble with a wad of clothes and school robes.

Harry looked at him then, eyes murkier than usual, making Ron feel ten times worse for his outburst, and feeling completely at a loss on how to help.

"Don't be. All of this is just…distraction, right now anyway. We've got more to worry about than my relatives…" Here Harry looked away to shut his trunk with a soft snap. "…or my nightmares."

"Can we at least talk about it later? Hermione will want to." Ron asked quietly, still sitting on Harry's bed and looking far too young to have that intense look of worry shadow his face.

"Maybe." Harry would stay true to the pact they had made for each other, knew he would in fact talk it out eventually. But he just couldn't right now. With a half-hearted quirk of the lips, Harry left the room to go shower.

Ron sighed and got up to his own bed, checking on his stasis spell on Wormtail discreetly while also rummaging for his own clothes to begin the day.

Neville remained in his bed holding tightly to his covers for what felt like the longest time, back turned to the room but eyes open and brow crinkled as he tried to make sense of a world that was quickly twisting on its end like a top.

Harry decided to skip breakfast that morning, as well as History of Magic which had been scheduled right after. Harry spent the morning in the library instead, taking notes from one of the books he had checked out. He hoped the research would help keep his mind off of things for a while, letting his thoughts settle.

There was a citation in Herbs and Potions: Using the Earth Around Us for the Betterment of Wizardkind that Harry decided to get up and check. It looked promising as it noted the work of a witch that had been working quite in-depth in the field of bodily ailments caused by dark magic. Her path of research had taken her to more natural roots—some quite literally roots if the book he was currently gleaning the information from was anything to go by. But more detail was of interest to Harry in this particular area. He scanned one shelf as he thought of the implications and the witch's promising work, then stepped across to the next isle where the healing textbooks continued when he almost bumped directly into Theodore Nott.

The boy's piercing eyes narrowed after his initial shock and Harry's mumbled apology. Stepping back a bit he kept his glare intact rather than return to the book he was holding open.

"Don't you have a class to get to, Potter?" Nott ground out in a challenging whisper.

Harry frowned, not quite sure what to say or do. He had never talked to Nott much in school, and even less during…the interrogations. He just couldn't bare thinking of those awful days that followed the war and closed his eyes as if in pain. He missed the slight twitch of confused concern in Nott's brow.

"I'm not feeling well, so I decided to do some independent study." Harry sighed, keeping his voice low. Opening his eyes he found Nott's face had taken on a rather blank look of indifference.

"I don't recall asking. Run along, Potter. It wouldn't do for the Headmaster's Golden Hero to be traipsing about when he shouldn't, even if it's miraculously in a library." He made a show of returning his attention to the book he held, languishly turning a page as he continued. "It is territory less trod for Gryffindors after all."

Harry made a face of offense but quickly schooled it to his own mask of emotionless focus, going around Nott to look for the book he wanted, planning to leave right after as he now felt disgruntled.

Nott side-eyed Harry as the raven-haired wizard looked over the spines of all the various textbooks, manuals and records. He finally found what he was looking for and deftly slipped out of the aisle with his prize, a puzzled looking Nott left behind in his wake.

It wouldn't be until later that Harry would remember that Nott had been skipping the very same class.

"Well, what would you suggest, Headmaster?" McGonagall asked, slightly exasperated.

The two were sitting in the staff room, enjoying the room far more now that Remus had removed the boggart. They very well could have done it themselves but neither had been in much a mood to face their own deepest fears lately.

Who would?

At any rate, the thing was gone and now no constant rattling and banging around could be heard. It was near blissful.

Dumbledore took a sip of his herbal tea and thought a moment. Currently, the problem was sorting out just where they would put certain students that had difficulty choosing electives this year. Of those, Harry and Hermione's odd request had come up in conversation and the two had lightly bickered on what was to be done.

"I will administer the tests myself, with Professors Vector, Trelawny and Babbling providing content for the collection of the exam."

"Really, Albus, Divination too?" Minerva huffed into her own cup of tea.

He smiled at her antics, not quite in disagreement with her on the opinion. "Sybill does hold claim to a rather impressive heritage…"

"Poppycock and hogwash. Sybill is half-dazed from that incense she burns day in and day out. Who knows what hallucinations she tries to pawn off as predictive visions." Minerva snorted with derision.

Dumbledore sighed, trailing a bony finger on the wood grain of the table.

"Regardless, she must be included. Then we will see where Miss Granger and Mr. Potter stand."

They both held the companionable silence a few moments before McGonagall engaged another idea that bothered her.

"Do you think something is…wrong? With Miss Granger?"

Dumbledore blinked in surprise. "Why did you say that, Minerva?"

Turning the cup in her hands as she looked off to the side in thought she answered, "Over the summer, she wrote me claiming to be in quite the tizzy about having to choose but two of the available five electives. She was worried that she would be severely lacking if she chose any minimal amount of what was offered and quite heavily implied she wanted to try to keep up with all five."

Dumbledore actually chuckled, knowing the girl well enough to find it unsurprising and yet quite ambitious.

Minerva shared in the smile but it slipped as she continued. "Over a few bits of correspondence, I advised her to look over her options carefully and attempt to make a choice by the start of term. I then alluded that if she could not, then we would work something out together."

Dumbledore nodded. "While I do not doubt her ability to keep up with a such a workload, the schedule ended up quite tight this year. Several of the classes overlap, as I recall."

McGonagall shifted in her seat, an odd thing for her to do given her usually stern and well-balanced control.

"I was fully prepared to ask your permission to contact the Ministry for a time turner, permit and all, for the girl when she arrived."

Dumbledore sat up and leaned forward, intrigued.

"Really? Of course I would have approved, I know you and I both would trust few with that sort of responsibility but…"

"…But Miss Granger falls under that category of trust, yes." Minerva allowed a small smile again. She then sighed as her face relaxed once more and leaned onto the table.

"But she has acted completely different since she has come back. She has not the same zeal we've come to expect from her years here, and her missives over the summer sounded quite serious. I have a great wonder as to why it has suddenly ceased, she claiming to have instead found some other resources over the break."

Albus fiddled with his beard as he thought, Snape's words echoing in the back of his mind upon this new revelation.

"Severus has expressed a similar concern, but over Harry." He admitted after a brief hesitation.

McGonagall made a noise in the back of her throat to convey just what she thought of that particular parallel of opinion. "Oh yes, I remember him mentioning something about that. I have only observed a neater penmenship and improved attention in my classes, certainly. No, my worries lie solely with Hermione Granger at this moment in time. Severus is just being paranoid, especially with Lupin out and about."

"Well…I will endeavor to keep an eye on them and will apprise you of their scores once the exams have been administered. How does tomorrow after your class sound?"

"That works just fine, you may of course use the room next to mine. I'll have a class of second years right after theirs, but I will be near enough should I be needed."

Albus beamed, happy to have figured this out at last. "Very well, send them word of the time. They can attend their chosen classes at least until we have sorted this out."

Harry slipped in beside Neville right before Charms began, gaining looks from Hermione, Ron and surprisingly, Draco. But as Harry was on a completely different row, with several Slytherins and Gryffindors between them, he was spared any questions. Flitwick's chirp of greetings began the class moments after.

He was still feeling sick, and rather rattled from his abrupt meeting his house ghost. On his way from the library to their classroom he had bumped into Nicholas quite literally, accidentally phasing through him. Upon recovering from the awful pins-and-needles chill, Harry had tried to apologize but after one strange look, the Gryffindor ghost had gasped and retreated violently into the walls. Harry had been terribly taken aback, but knew he had a class he was about to be late to and made his way onward.

It was strange to say the least, but Harry had other things to occupy his mind just now.

He did feel himself calm down as he worked beside Neville. Neville, meanwhile, was working quite hard on his notes. As Flitwick lectured, Harry doodled, not entirely invested in the lesson as it was on Cheering Charms, which Harry thought oddly ironic given his current state of mind. So, as he caught some key words here and there, he mainly focused on the mundane but peaceful activity of drawing Hedwig on his parchment. After several minutes he noticed a furious scratching of quill on parchment beside him and side-glanced to see Neville was the source.

Placing a hand on Neville's own, he stilled the stressed, erratic movements almost immediately.

"Neville." Harry whispered. "Alright there?"

Emerald eyes met blue, and Neville caught his breath as he looked at Harry. His emotions became tangled and he realized he had inadvertently been taking it out on his parchment. But one look at his friend, with such concern despite the obviously rough night he'd overheard about, quickly filled him with calm.

"S-sorry, Harry…"

Harry just shrugged. "No need to be sorry, just figured you wouldn't want to get a cramp." He smiled wryly at his joke and Neville found it contagious as his own mouth curled up without even thinking about it.

Soon class was over, Harry feeling as if it had gone by much too quickly for his liking as he now had to face the wrath of his friends. He smiled inwardly though as he figured that there were far worse things in the world than a few overprotective companions. He had experienced the alternative negatives and decided he greatly preferred the positives.

"Harry! Where were you? Are you alright? I was worried—Ron was too, we were just about set to search for you if you hadn't come to this class as well!" Hermione's quick chatter made Harry's eyes wide at her old self appearing through the melancholy, her worry for him making it power through.

"Merlin's beard, Granger, calm down. You're going to bust those muggleborn vessels of yours if you keep it up." Draco snorted, leaning on a desk near them as other scattered students had stopped to watch on their way out. Zabini and Parkinson chuckled wickedly at the jab, misreading the intent behind it. Draco shot them an irritated look that they missed entirely as they walked out with the other Slytherins.

"Bugger off, Malfoy." Ron hissed, causing Dean and Seamus to admire the fierce protectiveness in his voice as they stood a bit away, making their own way out.

Before Harry could break up the brewing fight, Flitwick trotted over and lightly admonished the group to gather their things if they wanted to get to lunch on time.

Draco shot Ron a dark look before slipping out without another word.

Harry sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose.

"Oh This is such a lovely day!" Professor Burbage gushed as she sat down in the seat open nearest her, which happened to be right between Snape and Lupin.

Remus blinked at her bright enthusiasm, while Snape looked to be determinedly avoiding any sort of recognition she was even there.

"You, erm, have been having a good week then?" Remus ventured, stumbling on his nervousness and not entirely sure why he felt so. He heard Snape snort as his obvious discomfort and he blushed slightly while shooting a soft glare around the woman to the dark-clad man on her other side. He was lucky that she was so preoccupied with her delight, not noticing their continued clashing. She had been avoiding their side of the table the last few meals, but it seemed her good fortune had overpowered her rational caution.

"Yes! Oh, I was a bit nervous, but the only true gaps in the recent curriculum was the last couple of years." She replied in a happy voice as she helped herself to a sandwich and salad. Snape shifted a bit away from her just before she accidentally brushed his arm as she reached for the dressing.

"Doesn't surprise me." Madam Hooch chuckled, she being on Lupin's other side and able to hear Burbage.

"Really?" Burbage paused in pouring dressing on her salad, elbows out and one decidedly in Snape's personal space. Taking no notice of his clearing of the throat (which made Remus smirk a bit deviously behind his goblet), Burbage looked to Hooch to elaborate.

"Aye, the man was a quick replacement of course. For Quirrell. Do you recall his name, Hagrid?" Hooch asked the friendly half-giant to her side.

"'Fraid not, Madam, never really got to know theh' bloke." Hagrid took a large bite of a turkey leg after that.

"How about you, Severus?" Hooch called over to Snape, who was leaning quite heavily away from Burbage and into Dumbledore's own space.

Burbage finished pouring her dressing then set the container down, looking at Snape finally and giving him a peculiar look.

Straightening his position at last and managing to ignore Lupin's obvious snicker with only a twitch of his eye, he stared ahead as he addressed the witch several paces down. "I hadn't the foggiest reason to converse with the man, as you well know, Rolanda. If anyone is to have known him well enough, it would be Albus." He then looked directly at the golden-eyed witch and raised a brow finishing with an "Ob-viously."

Burbage's face twitched with amusement. Hooch huffed and was about to retort when Dumbledore decided to rescue the situation.

"I daresay I can't rightly recall the man's name either, I'm afraid." Though his eyes sparkled in a way that said he was not being entirely truthful just to mess with his younger colleagues. He then eyed Snape as he continued, "The last couple of years were fairly eventful, perhaps occupying us all in one way or another from his company."

Snape actually gagged on his food, shooting an awful look at the headmaster. At the gesture of a napkin from Burbage, Snape finally had to acknowledge her existence as he snatched it from her if to stop her pitiful hand hanging in the air as a misguided offering of kindness.

"I find your description of a basilisk as merely eventful an interesting choice of words, headmaster." Snape growled, taking Dumbledore's bait.

"A what?!" Remus felt his heart skip a beat.

"Bloody nuisance, it was—" Hooch, forking a cherry tomato, added.

"We are not having this conversation." Snape snapped, slamming the napkin down and making Burbage jump.

"Wait, hold on a second, what do you mea—" Remus tried again but Snape shut him down once again, just to spite him of information he wanted.

"I believe we have gotten off topic—Professor Burbage was regaling us with her far more interesting sifting of Muggle Studies notes." Snape forced out, his eyes challenging Lupin to argue in front of everyone else.

Dumbledore looked disappointed and McGonagall rolled her eyes.

Burbage looked quite off-put and her cheeks blushed slightly as all eyes turned to her, Snape's included.

"I…well, I wouldn't quite say that but…" She decided to occupy herself by buttering a roll. "I did find Professor Quirrell's lectures on transportation and mechanics a bit impressive—"

"Now him I remember." Hagrid cut in. "He was alrigh' before he got all squirrely."

"I suppose being possessed will do that to a person." Hooch mumbled and Remus and Burbage both paled a bit. Snape actually bent his fork in frustration.

"What on earth—!" Lupin began again, whirling around to look at Dumbledore, eyebrows crinkled in worry.

"Enough!" Snape spat, causing the table to grow silent. The look of momentary fear in Burbage's eyes made his stomach bubble with feelings he did not enjoy stirring up. He sighed, then relented just a bit. "Besides, he was not possessed, exactly…he was more so a willing host." He mumbled into his food.

Albus smiled as his eyes danced, not having seen this much emotion from the man beside him in quite some time. Not to mention conversation.

Burbage leaned back into her chair a moment, a smile growing on her face. "I like this place." She decided aloud. Looking Snape right in the eyes she continued with confidence. "It's exciting."

"What d'you think they were talking about up there?" Ron asked as the trio made their way to Muggle Studies.

Harry shrugged, somewhat annoyed by how distressed Remus had looked the few times Harry had glanced up at the table himself. He knew Snape had something to do with it, and he was mad at himself for being upset about it. It felt petty.

But Remus deserved to be left alone for once.

Entering the classroom, the three blinked as they saw a student already sitting in the front row, setting his quill and parchment on the desk delicately.

"Malfoy?!" Ron exclaimed, eyes wide as he rushed inside to face the Slytherin who was regarding him cooly.

"You signed up for this class?" Hermione asked, approaching at a far more reasonable pace, clutching a couple of books as she always did. Harry was surprised to see Draco's eyes soften as he looked at her.

"I did."

"What for?" Ron asked in a slower and suspicious tone.

"I don't appreciate the interrogation, Weasley." Draco snapped.

"Hermione just asked a question and you answered!" Ron gestured to the bushy haired girl beside him as Harry rounded to his other side to gaze at Draco curiously.

"Hermione is nice." Draco drawled, folding his arms.

"And I'm not?!" Ron barked, offended simply on principle by this point. Harry had to pinch himself on the thigh discreetly to stop himself from bursting into laughter. Hermione had perfected the art of ignoring Ron's outbursts and was looking at Draco with renewed warmth.

"You seriously wish to argue this while you're yelling at me like a lunatic?" Draco snorted in genuine disbelief.

Ron's retort was cut off by the arrival of their professor, who quite literally rolled through the door.

"Ah! Early birds! Not to worry, I'll be back in a jiffy!" Burbage sounded out of breath and her long braided hair had numerous flyaways. But Harry thought the look suited her very well, making her appear quite fetching in a haphazard sort of way.

As Burbage glided to the closet to set a bag down and then back out the classroom door again, Harry turned his head to see Draco's mouth wide open.

"What?" Harry asked.

"What was that on her feet?" He asked, completely shocked.

"Huh? You mean her rollerskates?" Hermione let loose a slightly confused giggle, unsure if Draco was having them on by his overreaction.

"Roller-what?" Draco repeated in a tone that sounded like his sensibilities were being challenged by this foreign word.

Harry and Hermione shared an amused look, while Ron kept his glare though he too looked rather confused.

"It's a muggle…invention. Lots of muggle children use them as toys" Hermione shrugged. "Adults use them for recreation, sometimes competitively."

Draco clutched at his cloak clasp, looking absolutely taken aback.

A few other students trickled in now, all pureblood. Ernie Macmillan and Hannah Abbott from Hufflepuff, with Terry Boot and Lisa Turpin from Ravenclaw. They eyed their group with surprise and, in Draco's direction, some shock of their own, mingled with distrust.

Burbage came back into the classroom, this time on her own two feet, and clapped her hands. The windows to the left all opened and the curtains swooshed to the side, letting the sunshine flood into the room. Harry took a seat beside Draco and Ron and Hermione filed after him.

As Burbage reached the desk Ron leaned over Harry to throw one last harsh whisper before class officially started.

"For your information, Malfoy, I am a damn ray of sunshine."

Ron then leaned back into his chair in a huff, folding his arms and looking straight ahead to avoid meeting Draco's incredulous stare.

Harry could not help choking on his own surprised laughter much to Draco's irritation.

"Laugh it up, Potter." Draco growled under his breath. Hermione smirked as she wrote the date on her parchment to ready her latest notes.

Ernie and Hannah, who had chosen seats directly behind them, shared a confused look.

Once the class had settled and Burbage had written her name in chalk on the board (Harry noting they were the same type as Snape's) she turned back around to formally greet the class.

Leaning on the front of her desk, Harry noticed she had now shirked her outer robes to reveal a quite simple muggle outfit, fit for a teacher without a doubt but with none of the embellishments that Harry had come to associate with wizarding fashion.

Professor Burbage wore a long, simple cut flower print dress and a smart sweater. Her hair was long, brown and in a chaotic but attractive braid. Her shoes were not boots but trainers. Harry drew back from his assessing glance and resumed his attention to her welcoming speech.

"I am Professor Charity Burbage, your new Muggle Studies teacher." She smiled brightly.

Harry felt Draco stiffen beside him but didn't have time to register why when she went on.

"I am delighted to see such a large class of Third Years." She continued and Harry immediately felt some pity for her as their class seemed to him to be quite small compared to even Divination.

"I believe a bit about myself is in order, so I'll get right to it. My father was a wizard, and my mother was a muggle. To those who may care, that would make me a half-blood." Harry smirked in admiration as he noted that the way Burbage said it made it clear she did not put much stock into blood purity by any means.

"My father decided to live with my mother predominantly in the muggle world. It is where I grew up, received my education and later, went to university. Now you may wonder how I achieved my magical education as well, and I tell you it was not easy." Her eyes held a determined glint to them as she went on. "My father, while seeing the benefits of a muggle education, knew I would require tutelage in magic once I displayed my first bits of accidental magic shortly after I was born. I would go to school by day and after my homework for that was completed, I would continue with lessons taught in the evenings by a tutor hired by my parents. Though weekends and summers bore the brunt of my magical education, it was rare a day went by that I did not have some piece of curriculum squeezed in my schedule."

She smiled when she caught Ron's sympathetic look at the mention of having to do work during the summer as well.

"I completed both sides of my studies and now I am the teacher you see before you now."

"That's awfully impressive." Hermione spoke up, her face aglow with awe.

Burbage giggled lightly, unused to the praise. "Thank you, Miss Granger, was it? Well, enough about me, let's go around the room and tell us a bit about your background—if any—with muggles, mm? I can then see how much I have to work with." She laughed softly, hopping up on the front of her desk to sit on it as she regarded the class. She pointed to the back to where Terry and Lisa sat, opting to begin with them.

As Terry introduced himself formally to Burbage and then proceeded to tell of a time he once thought he saw a muggle in the forest while camping with his father, Harry's mind drifted to Draco, who was the only person who had not turned in his seat to look at Terry as he spoke. Draco's eyes were fixed on a point to the opposite wall, just to the side of Burbage's form. He was much too still and much too pale, causing Harry's gaze to crinkle as he tried to sort out what was wrong.

By this point Hannah was speaking, talking about how her mother had once brought home a muggle fashion magazine in order to flip through and get ideas for a new set of robes she wanted to design. Hannah explained how she had been struck, at the time, by how slick the paper was and how all the pictures were perfectly still, the binding having odd little metal clasps.

It was now Hermione's turn and she looked down as she spoke, fiddling with her sleeve as distraction from the eyes that had fallen on her.

"I am a muggleborn, professor. I wanted to take the class for the wizard point of view of how we—I mean, how muggles—function." Burbage considered her explanation and looked intrigued.

"I will be excited to have your help in my classroom, then!" Burbage clasped her hands together in happiness that radiated even to Hermione.

Ron was next.

"Ron Weasley, ma'am. My family is pretty much all magical," he thought briefly about that one cousin who was an accountant, "but my dad works in the Misuse of Muggle Artifacts department at the Ministry. I wanted to learn more about that sort of thing. I guess." Ron felt his ears turn pink at the lame ending but seemed to stand by it.

"Arthur Weasley, correct?" Burbage brightened. Ron mirrored her expression and nodded.

"Ahhh…I daresay I may have some dealings with him before this semester is out." She winked. "And I have your brother in my seventh year class, Percy?" Ron nodded warmly. She beamed and her warm brown eyes then fell onto Harry.

"I'm er, Harry." He started and heard Draco's soft snort. "My parents were magic but after they…well, I was raised by my muggle relatives. I didn't find out I was a wizard until my eleventh birthday." Harry shrugged and he felt of a shift in the room but wasn't entirely aware of it.

"They are um…pretty strict." Here he heard Ron mumble an "That's one way to put it." Ignoring him Harry plowed on. "And once I started Hogwarts I sort of lost touch with that part of my mother's side, as she was muggleborn…and well, I figured it might be time for some catching up."

"I admire your honesty, Harry." Burbage warmly replied, no judgement in her voice at all, though her brow bunched just so as she filed away the cryptic sort of way Harry explained his background.

When everyone turned to Draco, he shifted in his seat. Harry was unsure why, as his posture was already fairly perfect.

"Draco Malfoy. I am…from a magical heritage." Draco was looking right into Burbage's eyes, though Harry at least could tell it caused him great discomfort to do so. "I have not had any prior experience with interacting with muggles…but I believe it prudent to explore this avenue of education, if nothing else, then to be…more informed." He finished, sitting back a bit and breaking the eye contact.

"I understand, Mr. Malfoy." Burbage looked at him fondly which surprised the others in the room, even Draco himself. "I think that I can try my best to give you that knowledge." She turned to the others. "To all of you."

She then took out her wand from a pocket in her dress, which at this point had yet to make an appearance, and she twirled it just so. A stack lifted off her desk and sailed gently through the air, allotting one to each student.

Ron peered at the book-like contraptions curiously. "What is…?"

"Binders!" Hermione squealed in unexpected glee.

"Binders?" Ernie repeated the word, unsure of the odd muggle term.

"Merlin, I haven't seen one of these since I was ten…" Harry commented, opening his up to find it was already filled with white, crisp, lined notebook paper. His mood from the early morning easing up even more.

Lisa picked her own binder up and was running a finger over the metal rings. Ernie was turning the whole thing over in his hands. Draco jumped back when upon pressing down the latch on the bottom, causing the rings of his own binder to snap open.

Harry laughed and snapped the rings back closed for him.

"This is worse than Hagrid's Monster book." Draco gasped, and Harry chuckled again.

"It's completely harmless." Burbage laughed, now dolling out several pencils and pens.

"Professor?" Terry eyed his pencil dubiously.

"These will be the preferred writing instruments for my class. It's the first of many...immersive techniques we shall venture together as we delve into the world of muggles…" she glanced to Hermione and Harry here, "as well as the views of the magic world that surrounds them."

Standing up, Burbage readied herself with a smile. "Let us begin."

"Alright my dears! I think that is enough for today. I would like you all to answer the questions at the end of chapters one and two by next class for homework—and use the supplies I gave you! After the practice we had today, it will be a good way to put your new tools to use." Burbage called to her class, clasping her hands together happily. As the other students packed up she went over to Harry and Hermione.

"For you two, I think it might be appropriate to adjust the questions slightly with what you both know given your childhoods in the muggle world." She tapped her chin in thought and Draco seemed to gape at her slightly, slowing his motions to pack his bag. Harry, distracted by her proposal gave the Slytherin an odd look before turning his attention back to her fully.

"Things like 'why do muggles need electricity' could be better formatted for you both instead as 'why do wizards not need electricity'."

Harry noted Hermione quickly jotting the suggestions down and considered the questions. The other students had since left by now, with only the four left with Professor Burbage.

"I think that's fair." Harry smiled after a moment of silence, as Hermione seemed content to hold her gaze on their teacher but nothing more. Ron nudged his arm but Harry batted it away as Burbage continued.

"Splendid! I'll trust you to be creative with the homework, as there are parallels that you can draw, being a part of both worlds as you are."

Harry felt another nudge, but he elbowed Ron as discreetly as he could as he shouldered his bag. He was having a conversation for Merlin's sake, with a teacher no less. Ron could be patient one more minute.

"There was one question then that I might have trouble with, hold on…" Harry flipped to the page in his textbook that he had glanced at earlier. "'Here it is. 'List ways a muggle healer treats illness, such as the common cold or a broken extremity.'"

"Right! I suppose you could word it for wizard healing, if you'd like. The book speaks in generalities on that topic so I won't hold you accountable for too much regarding the translation of disciplines for that one. Just use your muggle experiences and compare to your wizarding ones if you need to."

"Would it be bad if…if I didn't? 'Have anything to compare to, for the first part I mean." Harry almost whispered, gripping the book rather hard, making Draco wince in concern.

Burbage's eyes flicked to the back of the room but Harry didn't have time to follow her gaze as he was much more interested in her answer. She leaned back on her desk front.

"What do you mean, Harry?"

Harry decided not to look at his friends and plowed on through. "I…my fam—my relatives…they never…" Harry felt and heard the page in his book rip a bit under the strain of his thumb rubbing it since he couldn't exactly wring his hands currently. He abruptly shut it closed and looked down, sighing. "Never mind. Just, I never really saw a doctor growing up, that's all."

Burbage's eyes softened slightly and a swirl of emotion seemed to flicker there but Harry couldn't register what exactly she was feeling towards him.

"You may answer as best you can, Harry. If I find a need for you to elaborate on a few things once you turn it in, I'll let you know." She replied softly with a smile. It wasn't patronizing, only warm and patient. Harry smiled back and nodded in thanks.

"Now that your little meeting is done, I must speak with Mr. Potter and Miss Granger." Called a deep, silky voice from the back of the room in the doorway, making Harry spin around in surprise.

Snape was there, arms folded and robes hanging off of his thin frame like Spanish moss on an oak tree. Harry threw a look to Ron who shrugged exasperatedly.

"I tried to warn you! Twice!" the red-head hissed in a whisper.

Catching Snape's eye as Harry turned back to the man as he moved towards him, Harry felt his heart slow and a lump of confusion form at his throat as Snape held his gaze perfectly as he strode to their side of the room. Harry had to be the one to break contact once he felt the featherlight pushing of Snape's mind as it touched his.

Snape had never looked him in the eye that long before. Not when he wasn't forced to like those awful Occlumency lessons.

Meanwhile the man in question had been talking for several seconds now and Harry blinked himself to snap out of his own thoughts.

"…onagall found it prudent to catch me between classes and asked me to deliver a message to Potter and Granger." Snape looked and sounded very disgruntled as being McGonagall's convenient errand boy. He had practically growled by the end of the sentence.

"You are to be given placement exams after your Transfiguration class tomorrow in the next room over. This will determine the validity of your claims that will allow you to remain in your chosen electives." Snape's eyes narrowed, but this time surprisingly at Hermione more so than Harry's direction. "It will be over Divination, Ancient Runes and Arithmancy. The exams will be overseen by the Headmaster himself." Now he glowered at Harry especially. "We will see where you stand after that."

Harry nodded, a bit with relief. "Yes sir."

Snape glanced to Hermione, expecting her to address him as well.

"Thank you, sir." She replied quietly, not quite looking him in the eye.

There was an uncomfortable silence then and Snape tapped his elbow with his other hand, arms still folded over his chest. "Well? Dismissed! All of you!"

The four students jumped at that (included Burbage) and they all quickly left the room in just enough haste to not quite be called running—but close.

"Goodness, you know how to get them going." Burbage huffed, but not unkindly. She noted Snape lingering, looking at her almost calculatingly and cleared her throat uncertainly.

"Was there…anything else you needed?"

Snape moved only to clasp his hands behind his back as he turned his head minutely and narrowed his eyes at the female professor fidgeting on her desk before him.

"I find it necessary to impart some unsolicited but sage advice. Watch out for Potter."

Burbage's brow crinkled just a bit.

"I'm sorry?"

"Potter is not to be trusted. And it would do you well to remember that—for as long as he is in your classroom. He may very well be out come Monday of course. I doubt even he could forge results with Albus right there in the room, even if he's a favorite."

Burbage brought a knuckle to her forehead and closed her eyes a moment before replying.

"Potter—Harry, he's been nothing but polite to me so far, Professor Snape." She tried to explain, knowing it would likely be a lost cause by the sneer aloofness that shadowed his face as she spoke her differing opinion. "Until he proves otherwise, I won't have cause to treat him any differently than any other student."

"And yet, I have already witnessed you doing so, with the dear boy's homework." He snidely pointed out.

"That is because of his background—his and Hermione's."

Snape's eyes turned a bit colder as he regarded the witch. "And that doesn't seem at all superfluous given the scope of this class and their lovely little muggle homelives?"

Burbage knew what he was getting at, but was not about to argue with the man.

"…I don't think it's my business. I'm here to teach a class, Professor Snape. If it is inappropriate for these two students to be here then I assume those placement exams will clear the situation up quite nicely." She crossed her leg over the other and straightened her skirt.

Snape curled his lip a fraction and turned to leave when he heard her hop off her desk and hurry to his side.

"Please don't be cross with me." Burbage sighed, her brown eyes looking into his darker ones with an intensity that threw Snape off kilter a bit.

"I know you meant well, in your own way. I don't want us to be at odds. I'd much rather us be friends." She gestured vaguely with her hands before letting them slap back at her sides. Snape remained rigid and stiff, one eye twitched as she remained close at his side and looking at him with such reckless abandon (in his standards).

"I also wish for us to be…on neutral terms, as well, Professor Burbage." Snape ground out, truly at a loss for what to say to her offer of friendship. That seemed far too much a step with someone he barely knew and who also happened to be a woman. And it reminded him of Lupin of all things, who was trying to also form some sort of kindship with him…well, until their latest fight that is. So no, he preferred the term 'neutral acquaintance' over 'friend' right now. Though he thought better of saying that to her just now. Something inside him felt…different at her offer. A pleasant different. And the look in her eyes, the hope, well…it was too much for Snape to squash just yet. There was plenty of time this coming term for her to get tired of his brashness and sharp edges.

She beamed at the perceived acceptance. "Charity" she replied clapping twice in happiness.

"I'm sorry?" Snape found himself echoing her earlier inflection.

"Call me by my first name! Charity! It's only proper now that we're friends." She turned back to walk to her desk as if not giving him a choice in the matter.

Snape straightened his collar and pulled down on his vest, feeling itchy all of a sudden.

"Fine. Charity. You may call me Severus, if you like." He said in a tone that sounded as if he thought very little of this new arrangement. Burbage—Charity—was already behind her desk, cleaning the chalkboard with an eraser rather than her wand.

"Splendid! Have a nice afternoon, Severus! I'll see you at dinner!" She called back to him. Feeling decidedly cross, rather frustrated and not entirely sure it was because of any one thing, he left in a swirl of black.

Harry pulled Malfoy into a broom closet, with Hermione and Ron squeezing in after them.

"Merlin—what are you three doing?!" Draco yelped, pushing up against the wall for space in the darkness and jamming his back into a mop handle.

A blue glow flooded the small space courtesy of Hermione's signature flame, it began small and ended in floating just above the palm of her hand. Draco looked at it, slightly mesmerized.

"We need to talk about class." Harry replied.

"Yeah, what got into you? You were fine until Burbage spoke to you…is it because she's a half-blood?" Ron asked, curiosity mixed with a bit of frustration.

"Guys, calm down. Let him talk it out." Hermione piped up, her voice normal now compared to the timid edge she had when speaking to Snape minutes ago.

"I…it's because…" Draco stammered. He didn't like this. Why were they so curious? Didn't they have an exam to study for?

"Because of what happened at the Manor?" Harry asked softly, moving closer to Draco, blue light dancing off his glasses and making his warm green eyes turn a deep shade of turquoise.

Draco shifted, stepping into a bucket and grimacing at the clunking sound. He took comfort in the fact that Ron was hunched over himself in the small space and Hermione had had a broom fall on her shoulder with no way to push it aside. Harry seemed the only one small enough and comfortable enough in the cramped closet.

"Why are we in here, can't we talk like civilized people in a nice roomy classroom?" Draco breathed, clutching his robes as his sides.

"Good question." Ron looked pointedly to Harry, who had been the one to lead them in there.

Harry blinked, like he had not considered something. "It feels safe in here…" he sighed. "Sorry, I guess it wasn't the smartest place to choose."

"It is the closest out of the way spot though, to the Great Hall." Hermione pointed out. "Remember Harry? You and I were in here once."

Ron and Draco's eyebrows shot up.

"Stop it, not like that!" Hermione laughed and smacked—as best she could in the scrunched position—Ron on the chest.

"That's right…when Remus…when you told me about him. What you had figured out." Harry gasped, recalling that moment all those years ago.

"Yes well, let's save this walk down memory lane for outside, hmm?" Draco made ready to push Harry gently out of the way when the shorter Gryffindor put a hand on the opposite wall, blocking his path.

"You need to talk to me. To us." Harry countered, ignoring Draco's want to leave as well as his own hypocritical wish to talk things out when he himself found difficulty doing just that.

"I'm not a part of your group therapy, Potter." Draco squinted in the dancing blues against the darkness.

"I just wanted to know if you were okay. We won't get another chance during dinner…and Ron and I have detention after." Harry sighed, removing his arm.

Draco's stiffness lessened. "You could always make me talk with Granger then." He half-heartedly offered, wanting to be a positive to Harry's mood, feeling guilty as his dejection and touched by his concern.

"Oh no you won't—" Ron huffed, moving forward and squishing Harry between him and Draco.

"RON!" Harry's muffled voice called at the same time as Draco growled "WEASLEY! OFF!"

"It might be best!" Hermione hurriedly supplied, the flame flickering in her hold as she used the other free hand to pull Ron back. Ron closed his eyes and looked to be controlling his emotions…his insecurities. Hermione squeezed his arm in affection at her approval of his effort.

"It's just an offer." Harry clarified to Draco, glaring slightly at Ron as he pulled at his lopsided tie.

"I'll think about it." Draco nodded. Then after a beat, "Now where's the door, I'm about to suffocate."

They heard and felt Ron reach about and slide his hands along the wall.

"I can't find it." He said after a second.

"Excuse me?" Draco blinked in disbelief.

"Uh-oh." Harry said.

"What do you mean 'Uh-oh?'!" Draco whipped his head around to Harry who was smiling a slight grimace like he was feeling both pain and embarrassment.

"I may have forgotten that sometimes—rarely—closets at Hogwarts…self-seal."

"They whAT?!" Draco shrieked. Being a pureblood, Draco would later wonder why he hadn't known that…but then again, studying the inner mechanisms of Hogwarts' broom closets—magical or otherwise—were not really top priority in the Malfoy household.

"Hang on, maybe we just need some light, Ron hold up my fire. You're tallest." Hermione shoved it in Ron's hands, making him elbow Harry upside the head. This in turn caused Harry to be pushed into Draco's chest.

"OUCH! Potter, your bulky glasses are about to slit my throat!" Draco yelped.

"Sorry." Harry mumbled, rubbing his head.

"Stuff it, Malfoy. Geez." Ron rolled his eyes as he lifted the flame. Hermione then took to examining the wall. It appeared smooth on all edges aside from where the corners met. Not even a texture of stone was seen as they otherwise could just outside in the halls.

As Ron and Draco bickered, with Harry interjecting his protests of being in the middle and therefore the most jostled by their movements, a distinct whirring and click sounded which stopped all conversation. A crease appeared just in front of Hermione, then a beam of light shone through a split second later. Next thing they all knew, the door was opened and all four tumbled out one atop the other and then sprawled out on the ground.

"SWEET MERLIN, FRESH AIR!" Draco dramatically got up to his feet, waving at the space around him in wild gestures.

They all then took in the presence of their savior, who was wearing a pair of slightly muddy converse and knee-high socks with blue and silver at the hem trim.

"Luna?" Harry laughed happily as he took in the rest of the girl's appearance from his place at the floor. Getting up as Ron helped Hermione up, he went over to the Ravenclaw girl and hugged her.

"Thank you! It was getting a bit cramped in there!" He chuckled. Luna giggled back, her hands lightly patting his back in the hug. Pulling away, Harry held her at arm's length and asked,

"How did you know where to find us?"

"Oh, there was a bit of Wrackspurt activity in the area and I was investigating. It's rather useless though, until my Spectrespecs some in the mail." Luna sighed wistfully. Her eyes appeared more focused and twinkled just so, warming Harry's heart at the sight.

"A Wrack-whosits?" Draco asked, dusting off his pants.

Harry merely chuckled then turned back to Luna.

"Care to join our table for dinner? As thank-you." Harry offered.

Luna beamed, nodding.

"Tonight's detention will be to chop ten gallons' worth of flobberworms, which you will then pickle."

Harry had been early this time. Unfortunately, this seemed to rankle Snape even more, and he had made a show of slamming the door closed after Harry walked in. Harry felt the woosh of the door and took great effort not to flinch as it slammed shut with a very loud bang.

Harry though now looked startled, so much so that Snape regarded him oddly despite his foul mood.

"Is there a problem?"

"These aren't the ones from Hagrid's…are they?"

Snape's eyes beaded slightly, confused.

"No…"

"Then where did you get them?" Harry blanched. "I don't have to kill them first do I?!"

Of all things…! Here he was, having to give up another night to watch the boy as he served his well-deserved detention when the brat in question has the gall to lengthen their conversation with inane jabbering. Snape was frustrated with the day and though he wanted to continue his analytical watch over the boy and his rather odd behavior this term, he was hoping to do so from the comforts of his desk at the other end of the room.

"Merlin, will you keep silent and come here? What difference does it make?"

Harry trotted over beside Snape at the only table set up in the old abandoned classroom. He had already hung up his robes and set his wand down on the desk on his way, which made Snape raise a brow.

"The ones at Hagrid's…well, we fed them and junk." Harry supplied, peering over his side of the table to look in the large bin beside Snape.

"And this is relevant how…?" Snape ground out, thoroughly perplexed by the boy and frustrated by it. He was distracted as it was and now the boy was a regular chatty Kathy tonight. What on earth had gotten into the brat lately?

"We bonded with the worms. I can't kill something I've had to take care of, sir." Harry sighed, as if this were obvious.

"Enough. This is a detention, not a café in which to engage in idle small-talk." Snape barked back, flicking his wand to that a new empty bin floated over to the opposite side of the first, with a knife and cutting board appearing on the table with a pop.

"The worms are from a merchant in Hogsmead, you foolish boy. And I have already done the deed of their expiration. What I require of you has already been explained. You have two hours. Begin." And with that, he left the room, taking Harry's wand with him into his office, but leaving the door cracked just so. He decided that he would only be able to regain any sign of composure and relief from his growing migraine if he were able to hole up in a completely different room—a room that as decidedly Potter-less.

Snape had been watching Harry work for the last half hour.

He had never noticed how thin and nimble the boy's hands were, nor how gentle they seemed as he held each bottle and filled it with the pickling potion left on the table. The boy seemed at peace and focused only on the work before him. It was the oddest sight. The boy had even missed the second hour tick by without comment or, more likely, awareness. He simply continued the work without complaint. Oh, he would still make a face here or there as he spooned up bits of flobberworm, an expression that was rather odd to be seen on a Potter's face in Snape's opinion. Young Potter here held a visage of slight sadness mixed with regret. It was as if the boy took pity on the little slimy creatures he was bottling.

The most significant part about his behavior tonight however, the part that had made Snape emerge from his office prematurely than intended, was the fact that Harry Potter was humming.

It was very quiet, but still managed to echo in the cozy nook of the lab and therefore easily drifted to the office as it broke through the silence that permeated there. At first Snape hadn't even noticed it, so engrossed as he was in editing the questions for his seventh-year class's test that was scheduled later in the week. But after pausing to straighten the arch in his back from hunching over the parchment, he noted the slight low hum. At first he assumed it was the piping acting up, but decided against it, for it never sounded quite so…melodic, nor rhythmically constant. Snape then stood up slowly and quietly, and deftly inched to the crack he had left to his door. Long ago he had charmed the hinges of his office doors to never utter another creak in protest to movement, and now had no problem easing his door open now in silence. He looked in rare, unhidden curiosity at the teenaged boy working diligently several feet away from him. It was clear the noise—the song—was coming from Harry.

It seemed like ages that Snape had worked so hard to avoid having the dratted child in his line of vision. It hurt far too much to look at him at times, much less interact with. Snape had done all that was required, possibly more at times, to fulfill his promise not only to Lily but to Albus as well. But he maneuvered in such a way to never have to be with the boy in a capacity that required his heart—only his mind and strength of will. But now…now he found himself unable to pull himself away, to become detached. It felt like some barrier was melting just a bit…fading into the background as he looked on. A small voice, one that was unsure of itself, told his mind that it was because he had set upon this new task of figuring out the boy's angle—whatever it was—this term. Nothing more, nothing less. It was an excuse; a paper-thin one, but one nonetheless. And so he stood there, fixed upon his spot at the door jam staring at the boy as he worked and hummed a wobbly, yet happy little tune quietly to himself. He looked so small then, like an actual child rather than the symbol he had until now represented in physical form in Snape's mind.

But soon after Snape had come to settle in his thoughts about the boy, he heard a sharp hiss erupt from Harry's lips and halt the melody he was singing just a split second before.

Immediately Snape saw red pooling around Harry's wrist and within the next second was at the boy's side, not noticing his own heart rate jump in his inner panic and sickly surprise.

"Sir! I didn't—" Harry jumbled his words, obviously shocked himself both at what happened and how quick Snape was beside him.

"Stop pawing at your hand and let me see!" Snape growled, yanking Harry's arm towards himself harder than he otherwise meant to.

There was a cut, not deep but rather long, running across Harry's right hand. Obsidian eyes flickered to the table where there laid one of the few bottles Harry had left to fill. It looked to have a curved crack along the side which had come loose. The boy must have slid his hand around and sliced his hand through before even feeling it.

Snape felt sick seeing the droplets of blood on the table and glass. It was Harry's blood. And for some reason it made him queasy.

"Idiot. You broke the glass and cut your hand." Snape ground out hatefully, his heart twisting in anger at himself for his tone but being unable to react any differently in the heated moment.

"I didn't break the glass!" Harry yelled back, yanking his hand away from Snape's long, spider-like fingers.

"Mind. Your. Tone. Boy." Snape hissed, pushing all his earlier thoughts away at seeing the more familiar snarl and back-talk from the boy emerge. This he could handle. This was familiar ground.

This was the outlet he had needed.

Harry glared at Snape with a look of very real betrayal, eyes flashing with emerald fire and glasses slightly fogged. There it is again, Snape thought. That look. Why that look? But Harry had continued to speak, interrupting Snape's inner train of thought.

"Your bottle was already like that, sir." Harry spat. "But it's not like I'm accusing you of setting it in there on purpose!"

Snape's eye twitched as he curled a lip in anger, completely ignoring the meaning of Harry's words. But before he could utter anything of the cold, poisonous reply he was cooking up on the fly—as he often did with the particular children that got under his skin—Harry's sudden paled pallor caught him off guard.

Harry had looked at his hand, the blood still slowly running free down the palm and dripping to the floor. Harry had gone completely pale as he brought his hands up to examine in the most peculiar way. He had also began to tremble. Snape felt a chilled shift in the room which gave him sufficient pause and cooled his own anger in seconds.

"Potter?" Snape tried after a moment, in a half-hearted annoyed tone. A voice, one still far away but still clear in his mind, spoke of him needing to stop the bleeding of the boy. But the way Harry stood there in stark contrast of his animated expression a minute before had taken Snape a bit aback.

"It's all my fault…" Harry whispered, eyes widening at his hands, white with speckled coagulating blood.

Snape felt immediate guilt, though he would never admit it.

"Stop blathering, Potter, if you say the bottle was already cracked before you touched it then I'm sure everyone will believe you. It makes no difference to me, just give me your hand so I may heal it enough to get you to Pomfrey." Snape sighed, more to release his own tension and try and take back control of the situation.

"No…you can't fix this. You tried your best…everyone tried their best…but you were too late. I was too late." Harry whispered again, his voice flat and depressive. Snape felt like a fool standing in the middle of the room, arm hanging in the air and wand poised to cast, with Potter bleeding, wringing his hands together and babbling nonsense.

Frightening nonsense.

"What are you talking about?" Snape found himself asking in an elevated tone, hoping his almost-yell would snap the boy out of whatever delirium was occurring. He dared not spell him over…something was telling him not to. And Snape was one to follow his instincts.

"Their blood! Look! Can't you see it?! It's all my fault! It's on my hands!" Harry shouted in a heart-breaking wail, finally locking his eyes with Snape's as he shook his bloodied hands before him to emphasize his point. It was then that an image unbidden lept from Harry's mind into Snape's—a flash of red and feelings of absolute terror and despair. Snape stumbled backward, nearly dropping his wand.

Snape whispered an incantation a second later, as Harry had knelt to the ground and begun to cry violently into his hands, smudging his blood into his face and hair. Harry crumpled without another word to his side, knocked out from Snape's spell. Snape quickly knelt at Harry's side and sealed the cut without much more issue, ceasing the bleeding almost immediately. Snape stretched the boy out on the ground and cleaned the rest of the blood that was on his arms, face and hair. The boy looked beyond sleep, almost completely blank with his eyes closed and face without the twist of any sort of expression; it startled Snape just how expressive the boy could be—and how different that face looked without it. Snape remained kneeling, hunched over the boy, as he tried to quickly and desperately to collect his thoughts.

Now the next problem Snape faced was deciding what to do next.