Chapter 24 – Lay of the Land

The second week of Severus’s suspension passes quickly. Dinners alone with Holly pass with painful silence or stilted conversation. Though Lucius never said anything, Severus knows offering him the certificate makes his position as Holly’s godfather official meant the world to his brother. On the other hand, Holly didn’t seem that moved when Severus relayed that knowledge to her, which nonplussed the Potions Master as he knows that the girl prefers spending time with the other wizard rather than with her own father.

Reaching for his teaching robe, he throws it over his frock, smoothing down the front. Holly returned from her morning gym session with Lucius thirty minutes ago. She’s already showered and is getting dressed, so Severus parks himself at the kitchen table to wait for her.

Dumbledore already sent ahead the lesson plans that had been followed over the last two weeks. No homework had been assigned during that time, which Severus is happy about. He would rather assign his own essays, which depended on his observations in the classroom.

“Ready?” Severus asks quietly when she comes out of her room.

She nods, her damp hair loose around her shoulders and flowing down her back.

He clears his throat and asks, “Do you want me to tie up your hair?” though he already knows the answer.

“Can you do braids?”

“No.”

“Harry can do braids,” she comments.

“Let’s go,” he sighs and stands up.

As they exit the dungeons, Severus can’t help but remember the first day of term as they’d walked to breakfast together. How bubbly and excited she’d been. He’d thought she’d been eager to see Draco. Little did he know. He looks down at his empty hand. The hand she’d grabbed and used to drag him to the Great Hall. The smile she’d given him.

It had all been a lie.

Is this the true Holly? Is this how his relationship with his daughter would be for the rest of their life?

They pass several students on the way to the Great Hall. His Slytherins give him stoic nods, and he’s happy they look relieved to see him. The few Hufflepuffs that pass give him worried looks. Usually, Severus doesn’t care about what the students think of him. He’d be happy that his students feared him but not like this. He’s reminded once again as he spots their fear that it’s there because he lost control.

He’s made students come close to wetting themselves and reduced them to tears with blistering words, but he’s never laid a hand on them. He silently curses Potter for bringing out that side of him. Holly follows him to the Head table, greeting the other teachers and taking a seat. The Hall falls silent as they watch Severus sit, but he shows no reaction, staring impassively over the masses. When the conversation resumes, it’s at a quieter volume than usual.

Severus calmly serves himself breakfast. Lucius enters a few minutes after, taking a seat next to Holly.

“Morning again, my darling,” Lucius smiles.

“Morning,” she returns distractedly, too busy scanning the Gryffindor table for Potter, most likely.

Severus does a swift sweep himself. No Potter or his cohorts.

“Why don’t you eat something while you’re waiting?” Lucius suggests gently.

“I’m not hungry,” she mumbles, glaring down at her plate.

Severus’s lips twist smugly above her head.

Potter’s probably too cowardly to face Severus once again. It is one thing for the boy to monopolise his daughter’s time during Severus’s forced absence, but the brat hadn’t hesitated to drop her on the Potions Master’s return.

Perhaps driving them apart won’t be too difficult after all. He calmly takes a sip of his coffee.

“Drink your milk, at least,” Lucius insists. His inner mother-hen comes to the fore as he pushes the glass into her hand.

Holly reluctantly takes a sip under Lucius’s watchful eye as Severus observes silently. A few minutes later, she perks up when she sees a group of redheads enter. The Weasleys have, oddly, all enter together, rather than in their usual group of friends. Potter is not with them, and Holly slumps back in her seat.

Observing them, Severus notices that they, too, are looking around with puzzled frowns. They take their seats in the closest empty space.

“Where’s Harry?” Holly asks aloud in concern. Turning to Lucius, she continues, “Do you think something happened to him?”

“He was fine during the workout,” Lucius answers briefly as his gaze flashes towards the entrance.

“Do you think someone hurt him?”

Severus freezes with his fork in mid-air, having caught her suspicious glance in his direction. His resentment at surges anew. The boy isn’t here, and he’s still causing issues between him and Holly. Appetite lost, he puts his fork down, unable to stomach another bite.

Before Severus decides whether he should say words to defend himself, Holly’s distracted by relieved shouts from the Gryffindor table.

“Harry,” Ron Weasley yells, standing up and waving his arm like a loon. “Over here!”

A huge smile instantly wipes away her earlier worry. Pushing back her chair, Holly runs around the table to Potter, who’s come rushing in as if he’s only just rolled out of bed. If Severus didn’t know the boy was up earlier with Holly and Lucius in the gym, he’d have thought the boy had overslept, considering the state of his bird nest hair. Perhaps he had gone back to bed.

Holly runs to Potter, throwing her arms around him as if she’s not seen him for years rather than an hour ago.

They have a whispered conversation, and then Potter leads her to an empty seat between his friends. Potter doesn’t even look in his direction, but Severus can’t look away. He’s aware many eyes are on him, but his are on his daughter with that selfish, useless, worthless piece of dung. His hand clenches around his fork until he can feel it being tugged firmly from his grasp.

Startled, he looks to Lucius, who’s moved over to take over Holly’s seat.

“Relax, friend,” Lucius tells him in a quiet voice. “Keep your temper in check.”

With great effort, Severus pushes his emotions behind his Occlumency barriers. It’s going to be a long day.

ooOoo

Severus has never had any issues controlling his classes in the past. No one has ever dared to mess about in his class, knowing his low tolerance for idiocy and how quick his temper is. However, his first lesson is with fourth-year Ravenclaws and Hufflepuffs, and Severus has experienced obedience on a whole new level.

He’s never hidden his hatred for Harry Potter, taking any excuse to deduct points from the boy or assign the most demanding, unpleasant tasks he can think of. The rest of the students might not know the exact details of what occurred, and Dumbledore would never reveal the full events. However, rumours travel faster than a niffler scrambling for gold, and the students are on guard. Nerves tauter than Flitwick’s piano string.

To his displeasure, he’s not enjoying the fear as much as he thought he would. Holly followed him to his first lesson, something that would ordinarily make him happy but leads to an even more fraught atmosphere. The students cringe away from him any time he steps closer, so he’s reduced to hissing insults and instructions from a distance.

He knows why she’s here with him. To sit in on his first lesson back with Potter. He already knows she won’t choose to return to him after lunch.

The bane of his existence walks in for his next lesson.

Holly greets him with great enthusiasm and a bigger smile than what she sported at seeing him enter the Great Hall at breakfast. Draco’s greeting is just about acknowledged. Severus can sympathise with the way the boy’s jaw clenches in annoyance.

“Today,” he speaks, grabbing their attention without even less effort than usual, “we will brew the Invigoration Draught. If brewed correctly, the potion shall imbue the drinker with enough energy to outrace a dragon.”

A gross exaggeration, perhaps. However, it is a popular, illicitly brewed, potion by enterprising young witches or wizards around exam time to help study. It wouldn’t surprise Severus if fanatic Quidditch players decided to use it for practice, but Madam Hooch is well-versed in recognising signs of someone using this potion.

He spends the first fifteen minutes lecturing on key stages to pay attention to before magically unlocking the Potions cupboard and adding the recipe to the blackboard.

The Gryffindors are slow to move, darting their eyes between Potter, Holly and their professor. Severus, with effort, resists the urge to snap. Most of these students were witnesses to his transgression. They’d have more reason to be wary than any others.

By the time the Gryffindors enter the store room, the Slytherins have already settled into their seat and begun prepping their ingredients. Severus decides to take the route of ignoring any seat occupied by Potter.

Stalking around the classroom, he imparts little nuggets such as, “Slice those alihotsy leaves thinner, Nott,” or, “That’s too much honeywater, Brown.”

Weasley’s potion is the wrong colour. At this stage, the potion should be a darker shade of green. His is a murky yellow.

“Not enough Billywig stings, Weasley,” Severus mutters and walks away.

Weasley throws a few extra billywig stings into the potion, but it won’t make a difference at this stage unless he balances it out with more honeywater and extra peppermint. He doesn’t tell Weasley any of this. It’s the boy’s responsibility to learn about his potion ingredients. Weasley will never get into his NEWTs class, thank Merlin. The boy is lazy and has no pride in his work. His workstation is messy, with bits of stewed mandrakes mashed on the worktop and random billywig stings stuck in the sticky mess. He doesn’t clean his knife between each ingredient, and though Severus recognises that the knife Weasley uses has been handed down from one of his brothers, it’s already rusted even further from lack of care.

The boy has no work ethic, no aspirations and shows little intelligence. If not for Granger’s nagging, the boy wouldn’t have passed any of his classes.

Looking over at Granger’s cauldron, he sees it is as perfect as always. Her worktop is as neat as her writing, though a little overcrowded. Granger’s knowledge comes from books, which is not necessarily bad, but she has no instinctive grasp of the art of potions. Put a recipe in front of her, and Severus can guarantee it will be brewed to perfection, but when it comes to experimenting, the girl will struggle to marry ingredients together without some sort of guide. Granger always tries to be perfect at everything and will, in the end, master nothing. Still, her work ethic can’t be faulted. If only she could keep the condescension out of her voice when answering questions, he might not be as hard on her as he is. And if she drops Potter, even better.

Speaking of, he turns to the brat in question, glances inside the cauldron and freezes in surprise. Potter’s potion is a slight shade of orange as he drops in the final ingredient, scurvy grass. However, unlike the other students who have roughly chopped the plant and sprinkled it in, Potter has separated the leaves, the stem, the petals and even the pistils and alternated between each before adding them in slowly. Instinctively, even. Potter doesn’t even end up using the whole plant. He still has half a stem and a pinch of pistils left, which he wisely refrains from adding. The potion becomes a deep orange shade, a perfectly brewed Invigoration draught. Looking around the classroom, he looks first at Granger. Her scurvy grass is neatly chopped. Weasleys is hacked horribly.

Longbottom’s separated the head of the plant from the stem but dumps it all in at once. Only the Slytherins have treated the scurvy grass the same as Potter. And that’s only because Draco passed on the method, which he’d learned from Severus’s tutoring. Yet none of them holds back some of the plants as Potter did, adding in all the separated ingredients into their potion. They’d still pass. It’s still a perfectly good potion. Yet Potter’s potion won’t affect the heart rate as much as the others; a downside of the Invigoration draught. How did Potter know how to do that?

Suddenly he’s itching to examine the potion.

“By now, your potion should be in its final stages. Let it simmer for three minutes and then ladle up a sample, mark it clearly with your name and bring it to the front,” Severus abruptly announces.

Five minutes later, Severus retreats to stand behind where Holly has been silently observing in between completing her English workbook and spelling. Severus felt her eyes on him throughout the class, particularly when he stepped close to her precious Potter.

Severus wants to snatch up Potter’s phial to examine it further but continues to ignore him as he waits for everyone else to place their phials at the front and return to their workstations to clean up. Draco brings up the samples for everyone from the Slytherin side, leaving his Housemates to pack away his workstation for him.

Once the last of the samples are placed on his desk, he moves towards the blackboard and brings out his wand to vanish the recipe from the board when he hears the smash of glass breaking, and he whirls around to see what’s happened.  

“Sorry, Potter,” Draco says insincerely, his eyes on the Boy-Who-Lived. “I must have knocked over your potion. It was a complete accident.”

Potter glares in Draco’s direction, his fists clenched.

“Bring up another sample, Potter,” Severus orders impassively.

“Oh, no,” Granger moans. Her wand is out, and Potter’s cauldron is empty. She’s already Vanished the leftover potions from her cauldron and her friends.

“You did that on purpose, Malfoy,” Weasley accuses.

“Complete accident,” Draco repeats with an unapologetic smirk, walking back to his bench.

The Gryffindors all glare at Draco, who only has eyes on Potter. He Vanishes his own potions with a satisfied flare of his wand. Had it been any other class, Severus would have been amused at Draco’s actions. However, on this occasion, he had really wanted to see if Potter’s potion was as good as it looked.

“Looks like it’s a zero for you,” Severus forces himself to say in a bored voice. Potter’s potion was most likely a fluke. It might have looked perfect, but every so often, a potion can look like it’s been brewed according to instructions, but that doesn’t mean it works effectively.

“Homework for today is the efficacy of Scurvy grass and Lovage. I want twelve inches on three different ways the plants can be used in two potions. I also want the essay on the moonstone I assigned two weeks ago. You should have all had sufficient time to complete the essay. Now pack away -”

He’s interrupted by an all-mighty crash. He whips around to the sound and finds the phials with everyone’s samples have fallen and smashed on the floor, with an unrepentant Holly standing next to his desk. Severus rushes over to pick her up and steps away from the broken phials and spilled potion, which has started to fizzle and react. Not all the students have brewed their potions well.

“Sorry,” she says, her apology just as insincere as Draco’s was minutes ago as she looks at the boy in question. “I slipped. I didn’t mean to do that.”

His heart hammering, he holds her close and takes another step back before Vanishing the mess. He looks up to Draco, whose expression is a cross between frustrated and disgruntled. The Slytherins keep up an impassive facade, but the Potions Master recognises the looks of irritation they try to hide.

Granger’s look of indignation morphs into rage and dismay as she looks at where the mess of phials used to be, but the others don’t seem to be as bothered.

With more sincerity than with Draco, she looks at the other students and says, “I’m sorry, everyone.”

“Zeroes all around,” Severus says, holding back a defeated sigh. She did that for Potter, he realises, who’s a lot closer to Severus’s desk than he was minutes ago.

Holly squirms, wanting to be let down. Complying, he snaps out, “Class dismissed.”

Draco looks in Severus’s direction, only to look taken aback at the glare directed at him.

Vexed at how the last ten minutes of the class have gone, he says coldly, looking Draco directly in the eyes, “Out.”

Within seconds the classroom is empty, Holly following Potter like an obedient little crup. Once the door closes behind them, Severus slumps into his seat, unsure of how he is feeling.

ooOoo

With an ill temper, Draco makes his way to the Great Hall for lunch.

He’s been messing with Potter’s potions for years, and the other has never been able to prove it, even though he suspects. Uncle Sev would never take Potter seriously if the ponce ever tried to accuse him. Over the years, he’s been watching Potter in Potions, and the idiot has never made a potion as well as he did today. Though Draco’s seen the improvement in the two weeks Uncle Sev was suspended, Draco knew it was daft to try anything to sabotage Potter with the other teachers observing them so closely.

He’d been too busy to do anything during the actual brewing process itself, even if he hadn’t had to watch Crabbe and Goyle the last few weeks. He finds himself missing those two more than he thought he would. He’s so used to looking out for them. However, he’d seen his chance when he spotted Potter’s perfect sample.

Instead, it all backfired on him. Holly had knocked over everyone’s samples on purpose. For Potter.

Blaise and the others pull him into an alcove before they enter the Great Hall. Daphne puts him in a Silencing Charm, gesturing for Davis to go on without her. Surprised, he finds himself subjected to irritated glares from Blaise, Daphne and Theo. Even Pansy is astonished by their ire.

“What?” he snaps defensively, hitching his school bag higher over his shoulder.

“You keep trying to one-up Potter, and it’s not working,” Daphne tells him in a harsh voice.

With more patience, Blaise intervenes before Draco can say anything, “Whatever issue you have with Potter, keep the rest of us out of it. We’ve never cared about it in the past because it’s never mattered or affected us before. Today, Holly took out her anger for you on everyone. We were all affected by your need to mess with Potter for no good reason.”

“I don’t know why this information isn’t sinking through your thick skull,” Daphne takes up the reins again, looking at him scathingly, “but you’ve been told several times not to mess with Potter. And you know Holly will defend Potter against everyone else. She doesn’t care about you like she does Potter. And if you keep at it, you will continue to alienate her.”

“If you haven’t already,” Blaise adds.

“Your father isn’t the only one trying to build an alliance with Potter,” Theo asserts, looking at Draco with a scary intensity. “You’ve been mad at Potter since he refused to shake your hand five years ago, but you need to get over it. If you jeopardise our survival, you’ve got no one to blame yourself if you have to suffer the consequences for that.”

“You’re threatening Draco? For Potter?” Pansy says shrilly on Draco’s behalf.

Draco’s heartened that someone is on his side, and Pansy’s support bolsters his bravado.

“Potter-” begins Draco.

“Is more important than you,” Theo finishes coldly.

“Back off, Theo,” Pansy steps forward. “Draco’s worth ten of Potter. Just because you want to get in Potter’s pants doesn’t mean you-”

Pansy abruptly cuts herself off at the chilly look from Theo.

Draco’s left with a horrible, sinking feeling. Theo doesn’t really fancy Potter, does he?

“Heed our words, Draco,” Blaise says quietly.

“We’re done speaking to you about this,” Daphne adds.

Releasing her Silencing Charm, Daphne and the other step away, not bothering to look back at Draco.

“Don’t worry, Draco,” Pansy says assuringly, stroking his hair like he’s a child. “They’ll realise soon enough how worthless Potter is. Holly will too.”

But Draco’s not thinking about that. Draco’s trying to get the image of Potter and Theo out of his head.

ooOoo

Potter doesn’t enter the Great Hall for lunch, so Holly follows Severus to the Head Table. Given how sanguine she is,  she must have already known that Potter wouldn’t be here. To his surprise, she wants to follow him back to the dungeons once lunch is over.

“You’re coming with me?” he repeats blankly.

“Don’t you want me there?” she says, challenging him.

The other professors watch in amusement.

“Of course I do,” he says automatically. He can’t believe his luck but feels suspicious, trying to figure out her angle and understand her motive for doing this.

“As long as you stay behind my desk and don’t go anywhere near anyone’s samples,” he adds.

“Okay,” she says agreeably, returning to her grilled fish and vegetables.

“What happened with the samples?” Filius asks curiously.

Darting a look at Severus, she turns back to Filius and nonchalantly adds, “I accidentally knocked them over and ruined everyone’s potions.”

“Oh no,” Filius exclaims. He leans towards Holly in concern, “Did you get hurt?”

“I pulled her out of the way,” Severus says quickly.

Catching Severus’s eyes over Holly’s head, Lucius raises a questioning brow. The Potions Master shakes his head, silently communicating that he will tell the blond later.

“What about the leftover potion from their brewing?” Lucius queries.

“It had already been Vanished by that point,” Severus says shortly.

“So, no one received any marks for today’s practical?” Minerva questions.

As all eyes turn to her, Holly has the grace to adopt a sheepish look.

“It was an accident?” she says weakly, shrinking under Minerva’s stern look.

“See to it that it doesn’t happen again, pet,” Minerva relents. “Otherwise, we might have to rethink letting you sit in on your father’s classes during the day.”

Severus stiffens, even as Holly frantically promises it won’t. He initially thought Holly had knocked those samples over to spite Draco. However, she could have just knocked over Draco’s. Each phial was clearly labelled by each student. Had she knocked them all over to get herself banned from his Potions class forever? Was it just another way for her to manipulate events, so she didn’t have to spend any time with him during the day?

Vowing to keep a vigilant eye on her during those lessons, he decides he must hammer home the point he should have made earlier, directly after the incident occurred.

“It was very dangerous,” Severus says sternly. “You could have been hurt. Not all students would have brewed that potion correctly, and even if they did, had it spilt over you, there’s no saying what the reaction could have been.”

“I know, I know,” Holly interrupts Severus’s lecture, her earlier contriteness with Minerva melting into defiance. “Harry’s already told me off, so you don’t need to keep harping on about it.”

“This happened in the same class as Potter?” Minerva asks carefully.

Severus gives a brief nod.

“I see,” she replies slowly. Then curiously enquires,  “And what did Mr Potter say?”

A little resentfully, Holly crosses her arms, still holding her knife and fork in each hand; she relays, “He said I was stupid to do it, and I could have been hurt by a potion that wasn’t made right. Or I could have been hurt by the glass after it broke.”

It galls Severus that he has to agree with anything that Potter says, but damn it, the boy isn’t wrong. However, the words get stuck in his throat. Instead, he continues, “I-” or tries to as he’s stuck for words.

Uncrossing her arms, she mutters irately, “I wouldn’t have accidentally knocked them over if Draco hadn’t been so clumsy to knock over Harry’s.”

With the way she stresses the words accidentally and clumsy, she leaves no doubts in anyone’s what’s actually happened. Lucius tenses at Draco’s name and shakes his head, rapidly putting the pieces together. He glances towards the Slytherin table, and Severus follows his eyes. Draco and Parkinson sit together but apart from their other year mates. Lucius worked hard to persuade others to defect with him. Draco’s stunt today had the knock-on effect of potentially undoing that.

He’s jolted out of his thought by an irritating scraping sound.

Holly brings her knife and fork down to viciously stab her fish and apply more force than necessary when cutting it.

Minerva coughs lightly, her lips pressed suspiciously together.

“Oh, my,” Filius squeaks when Holly does it again.

Minerva coughs again, Severus rolls his eyes, then winces when Holly scrapes her plate.

“Stop it,” he snaps.

“Stop what?” she provokes, still dragging the knife forcefully over her plate.

“That – that infernal noise,” Severus gripes.

Minerva finally lets loose a snigger. Filius, too, breaks and chortles heartily. They gain the attention of nearby teachers and students, who send them bemused looks, unsure what the joke is.

“What’s funny?” Holly asks grumpily.

This sets off another wave of giggles.

“What?” she scowls.

No answer from the teachers. They are too busy getting their breath back.

“For Merlin’s sake,” Severus huffs, stabbing his fork into his fish.

Aurora spits out the juice she’s just taken a gulp of.

“Oh, oh,” she shrieks in realisation, “I just got it,” and sets off a new wave of laughter.

“I don’t get it,” Holly says, her irritation giving way to confusion. She looks between them all for clarity.

Lucius, the traitor, looks at Holly with twitching lips, “I think they’re just remembering an old joke.”

“Oh, Severus,” Minerva gasps out between huffs of laughter, “she’s for sure the spit of you.”

“I didn’t spit,” Holly defends indignantly.

Aurora howls in laughter, tears streaming down her face as she bangs her open palm on the table.

Edging away from the cackling hyenas, Holly looks unsurely at Severus and says, “I’m done with lunch. Can we go?”

“Yes,” he agrees instantly and pushes his chair back loudly.

“Juvenile,” he mutters in disgust as they are overcome with another gale of laughter.

“I spent all summer with them,” he hears Lucius begins to regale.

Traitor, Severus thinks as he ushers Holly back to the dungeons, still suspicious of her motives.

ooOoo

Seated at his desk, Lucius waves his wand and opens the door for his next class. Fifth year Gryffindors and Ravenclaws.

Last week he’d gone through theory for a Shield Charm, and both Houses had no problem with the theory side. By the end of the class, everyone managed a shield, though some were weaker than others.

“Come in, class,” Lucius beckons, standing up and walking around his desk. “Bags to the side and wands out. We’re continuing with Shield Charms today.”

The students happily complied, delighted that practical lessons continued. Potter had been one of the few who could produce a strong Shield Charm, along with a passable one from Granger and Thomas from Gryffindor. Turpin and Brocklehurst also produced decent Shields.

As for the rest of them, Lucius doesn’t need a spell to rip through their shields. All he has to do is lob a scrunched-up piece of parchment at them, and their Shields would disappear.

“Potter,” Lucius calls out, grabbing everyone’s attention, “since you demonstrated a strong Shield Charm last week, I’d like to ask you to assist your classmates where needed.”

“Yes, Professor,” Potter accepts.

“Now, does everyone remember the incantation?”

“Protego!” comes the yell from a few individuals.

The voices ring out as each tries to improve their spell work. Lucius walks around the classroom, correcting wand movement or pronunciation. He spends five minutes reviewing theory again with Finnegan and the Gryffindor Patil.

Potter, meanwhile, he can see is working with Granger, Thomas and Longbottom. He demonstrates his Shield for each of them and gives them pointers on improving. Fifteen minutes later, he orders them all to form a line.

“We’re going to have a quick duel,” he informs the class, to their excitement. “I will assess you one at a time. There will be thirty seconds on the clock, and I will use the Disarming Spell to get through your Shields. Your objective is to hold your Shield for thirty seconds. If you hit thirty seconds, it’s up to you if you want to continue your Shields and go for a record time. I will post the top five from each year on the back wall, which will be assessed every two weeks. Now, you have five minutes to decide amongst yourselves which order you want to go in and form a line.”

While the students whisper amongst themselves, Lucius readies his timer and sets up parchment and dictaquil to record the data.

“Ready? Who’s first?”

Goldstein steps forward, looking nervous. Lucius quickly glances at the line, noticing Potter is at the back. Longbottom is with him, but Granger is in the middle with the Patil sisters.

The timer pings to signal the start of the clock, and Goldstein cries, “Protego!”

Lucius gives him an extra second to hold his Shield before casting his own spell.

“Anthony Goldstein, two seconds,” Lucius calls out. Encouragingly, he says, “Good try, Goldstein. Going first is hard. I’ll give you another chance.”

“Yes, sir,” the boy agrees, looking startled. He takes a few seconds to collect himself and casts the Shield Charm again.

“Anthony Goldstein, six seconds,” Lucius calls after the Shield falls. “Much better. Next.”

Finnegan moves forward, looking determined.

“Protego!”

“Expelliarmus!”

“Seamus Finnegan, seven seconds.”

Finnegan grimaces in frustration.

“More practice, Finnegan,” Lucius encourages. “Next.”

One after one, Lucius assesses each one. The average time each student holds their Shield is ten to twelve seconds. Most need a lot of work. Cornfoot makes it to twenty, with Turpin only a second behind.

“Ready, Granger?”

She nods determinedly. Lucius is well aware that the girl doesn’t like him; however, she has been stiffly polite. While intelligent, Granger is also patronising when explaining things to others. He’s seen how the others shy away from her, going to Potter for help instead.

“Protego!”

Granger’s Shield is strong, and Lucius’s Disarming spell might be slightly stronger than what he used with the other students.

“Hermione Granger, five seconds,” his voice hiding his satisfaction. The chit needs to be taken down a peg, and Lucius doesn’t feel this way because the girl is muggle-born. He’s spent much time watching Holly and Potter interact, which means watching Granger and Weasley. He’s seen the disapproving looks Granger sends his goddaughter when she thinks others can’t see her. Also, Holly’s been reticent when it comes to speaking about Granger or Weasley, seemingly getting on better with Longbottom, Thomas, and the Gryffindor Quidditch team than she does with Potter’s supposed best friends.

Granger walks off with a look of frustration as Lucius calls up the next student.

“Lavender Brown, twenty-one seconds,” Lucius announces, his dictaquil scribbling away.

Finally, they are getting to the end of the line.

“Dean Thomas, twenty-seven seconds,” Lucius calls. “Well done, Thomas.”

Thomas walks away, looking pleased with himself. The boy has a good work ethic. Occasionally he’s in the gym at the same time he’s there with Potter and Holly, but Lucius often sees him leaving as he arrives.

Longbottom steps up, frequently looking at Potter for reassurance. Zoning in on the boy’s wand, he recognises it as his father’s wand. He and the Longbottoms might have been on opposite sides of the war fifteen years ago, but he actually had great respect for both. Augusta Longbottom had been a harridan back then, and Lucius doubts she’s changed much in the intervening years. Only two years below him, Frank had been jumpy and anxious. It was anyone’s guess why Frank Longbottom had Sorted Gryffindor. Most of his family Sorted Ravenclaw, but Augusta pushed and pushed the boy, trying to mould him to Merlin knew what image. It seems she’s done the same to her grandson. Tried to mould him into some image in her head.

He can see the knowledge in the boy’s eyes whenever they’re in the same room. Longbottom believes he lacks courage, but Lucius sees the anger in his eyes. Longbottom knows Bellatrix is his sister-in-law, the very same person who drove his parents to insanity. No matter that Lucius has switched sides, that knowledge will hold Longbottom back from ever trusting Lucius.

Out of respect for Frank and Alice, who became Frank’s courage and perhaps a little pity, Lucius decides to hold back when casting his spells against Neville Longbottom. The boy’s magic is strong, just his confidence is lacking. Not to mention, he’s pushing his magic through a wand ill-suited to him.

“Protego!” but the Shield falls straight away.

“I’ll give you another chance,” Lucius allows.

Longbottom looks to Potter, who gives him an encouraging nod. The boy takes a fortifying breath and casts his Shield again, looking a little better than his first one.

Casting his own low-powered spell, Lucius hides his surprise as Longbottom holds his Shield. Bolstered by his success, Longbottom seems to strengthen his Shield once more, holding steady, so Lucius sends another Disarming spell at the boy with just a touch more power. Then again, with more power. Then again, with more.

“Neville Longbottom, nineteen seconds,” Lucius announces. “Well done, Longbottom. I expect you to reach thirty seconds next time.”

The boy nods, giving Lucius a determined look; gripping his wand, he walks off to join the others.

Finally, it’s Potter’s turn. He’s been looking forward to this.

“Ready, Potter?”

Something flashes in the boy’s eyes, but it’s hidden straight away.

“Protego!” Potter casts in a firm voice, by far the most confident of the whole class.

“Expelliarmus!” His first spell is at the same power low power he’s kept for most of the students. His next attack is at the same power as Granger’s. There’s no give in Potter’s Shield for either. Increasing the power, Lucius tries again. Potter doesn’t waver.

“Come on, Harry,” Granger calls out in encouragement. Several students echo their support for Potter.

Potter hits thirty seconds and is still going strong. Lucius ups his spell strength- pleased at Potter’s. Enjoying himself, he changes tactics. Instead of sending his spell head-on as he has been doing previously, he angles his spell, trying to find a weakness in the boy’s Shield. With a fantastic display of reflexes, Potter keeps his Shield intact but still deflects his attack. Spotting a slight smile on the boy’s face, he realises Potter is enjoying the mini duel too.

He’s seen how hard Potter works in the gym. At least teaching Potter duelling in their private lesson won’t be arduous or, worse, boring. He’s a natural at duelling, it seems. Lucius sees it coming before it happens. Potter’s Shield finally fails, and his wand flies from his hand. Lucius catches it.

Looking at the timer, he happily announces, “Harry Potter, two minutes and seven seconds.”

The rest of the class erupts in whoops and cheers as Lucius hands the boy back his wand.

“Well done, Potter,” he congratulates.

“Thanks, Professor,” Potter responds politely.

Looking at the time, he sees that there are still fifteen minutes remaining.

“For your homework, I want you to continue practising the Shield Charm and a ten-inch essay on how the spell has evolved since its creation and the modern use of it in the last seven years. Due for next Monday. Well done to all of you today. On that note, there’s no point in starting something new in the remaining time. We’ll start on some of the spells in our next lesson, but we are done today, so I’ll release you from class early. Off you go.”

They grab their bags from the side, leaving with the same excitement they entered.

“Potter, a word,” Lucius calls before the boy leaves.

Waving at his friends to leave, all of whom look reluctant to leave Potter alone with him, he asks with the same politeness in all their interactions, “Yes, sir?”

“The door, Potter.”

Potter obligingly closes the door and steps closer to the desk once more.

“You dropped your shield on purpose,” Lucius declares with confidence. “Why? You could have held it for longer.”

“Why did you go easy on Neville? Or harder on Hermione?”

Lucius freezes.

“Are you able to sense magic?” he asks.

“No. I don’t think so. I just know Neville’s Shield should have fallen, and Hermione’s should have held.”

“You know the wand Longbottom’s using used to belong to his father?” Lucius comments, seemingly out of nowhere.

Potter shakes his head with a puzzled look.

“Longbottom Senior was a powerful wizard in his own right, but during his early years, he suffered the same curse as his son does now. A lack of confidence. The common denominator in both cases? Augusta Longbottom. I’ve had more dealings with that ... witch than I would like. I won’t say I was ever friends with Frank or Alice Longbottom; Slytherins mixed with other Houses back then as much as they do now – which is to say not much. But the Pureblood circle is a small one. Everyone knows everyone, even if the social circles are segregated. Despite her advanced years, Augusta Longbottom is still a formidable witch, but she’s never been a kind one.

“Everyone knew Frank was afraid of his mother. He shocked everyone by defying her when he took up with Alice, and the transformation after his sixth year onwards was astonishing. She undid all the damage wrought on him by his mother. Augusta wasn’t pleased at first but then seemed to like this defiant Frank, who, in her opinion, had finally become worthy in her eyes by shedding his timidness. She’s doing the same to her grandson.”

“So you’re trying to help Neville?” Potter asks, studying him intently, thankfully keeping the incredulity out of his voice.

“I owe Alice Longbottom a favour that I thought I would never be able to repay. Augusta would never let me anywhere near her family. A Malfoy always pays their debt.”

Potter falls silent briefly, thinking hard.

“The wand chooses the wizard,” the boy says eventually.

“Frank’s wand is still loyal to him,” Lucius informs the boy in front of him. “His son is just as powerful as his father. He needs a wand of his own if he ever hopes to reach the potential he’s capable of.”

“And because his parents were tortured to insanity by your sister-in-law, he’ll never trust you,” Potter concludes accurately.

Lucius inclines his head in affirmation.

“My debt to Alice will be paid.”

“That’s the only thing in it for you?” Potter questions suspiciously.

Lucius thinks carefully before answering, “I am trying to bring my family safely to the other side of this war, and whatever else others may think, going back to the Dark Lord is not an option. He will kill my family first before he decides to kill me. You have power, Potter. So does Longbottom. If he’s anything like his father, he will have your back. Much better than your friend Granger.”

“Neville does have power,” Potter agrees without doubt, “I trust him. And Hermione does have my back.”

“I hope you’re right, Potter.”

ooOoo

Neville doubles back. He and Hermione reluctantly leave at Harry’s insistence. Hermione has an expression that is a cross between eagerness at starting on her homework and displeased that the entire class time wasn’t utilised. He also knows she isn’t happy she lost her Shield after only five seconds.

The rest of the class might not have picked it up, but Neville felt Malfoy had pushed more magic into his spell with Hermione. She’d been furious. Hermione pushes herself hard with her school work and spellwork, and he knows how strong her Shield is.

Hermione rushes ahead to the library to start on her homework, but Neville doesn’t like that Harry is alone with Malfoy, so he heads back and pulls out his Extendable Ears that he bought from Fred and George several weeks ago. He didn’t think he needed them when he paid for them, but he’d done it to help the twins who’d worked hard on their products, only for Mrs Weasley to throw them in the bin.

He never actually anticipated using them. He wasn’t desperate to know what the Order was doing and didn’t need to spy on his grandmother to know what she thought of him. She’s never minced her words, whether speaking to him directly or behind his back. He knows she thinks he’s a disappointment to the family name.

Listening to Malfoy talk up his father is a revelation. He never would have expected it. Gran constantly ranted about people like the Malfoys who bought their way out of Azkaban. Angry and resentful at her son and daughter-in-law being hospital-ridden, his grandmother never had a good thing to say about Lucius Malfoy, calling him a smarmy, insincere snake.

He deflates when he hears Harry say that Malfoy purposely sent him weakened spells. Then frowns with confusion upon hearing all the good things about his parents. He’s floored when he hears that his father had been just like him when he was Neville’s age. Gran always made Frank sound like he was brave and adventurous and a daredevil. According to Malfoy, his father wasn’t like that until he met Alice.

He’s even more astonished when Malfoy says he believes that he, Neville, is a powerful wizard. No one’s ever that about him. Well, Hermione says it, but in a patronising way she sometimes does, even if she believes she’s been encouraging. Ron also says it, but his efforts are more out of pity than anything else. Neville knows Ron never means it; he just says it because he feels sorry for poor, bumbling Neville.

He frowns thoughtfully. Neville’s never heard Harry say it, either. However, Harry never makes Neville feel horrible when it takes him ages to cast a spell. Harry stays patient when he has to explain the same thing repeatedly and will try it in different ways to make sure Neville truly grasps the topic. And now, hearing the sincerity in Harry’s voice, Neville feels like something lift from his heart. He always felt Harry began hanging out with him out of pity. For their first two years at Hogwarts, Neville felt alone and friendless and had taken to joining the Herbology club because it was something he was good at, and here at Hogwarts, Gran wasn’t around to tell him off for ‘playing with flowers all day.

Then, suddenly in their third year, Harry began to include him. It never felt comfortable if he is honest. Harry, Ron, and Hermione were the Golden Trio. They were always together. They’d had adventures together. They had a bond that Neville felt like he was intruding on. Hermione and Ron always looked at Neville as if they wondered why he was invited to hang around with them in the first place. Harry’s inclusiveness was genuine, though. When Harry invited him to an exclusive club that Hermione and Ron turn down every year, he initially thought Harry only asked him as a last resort. He’d been wrong about it, and can’t wait until it starts up again this year. He already knows that Harry will be inviting Holly.

Hearing Harry believes in him now makes Neville realise that the Boy-Who-Lived had never looked down on him. Harry may never have outright said that he thinks Neville is a good wizard, but he’s shown it with his actions.

Realising the conversation is over, he hastily steps back, yanking the Extendable Ear away from his face and trying to wrap it up and hide it. Too late, Harry sees it as soon as he walks out of the door. He closes it firmly behind him and looks at Neville with an uncomfortable expression.

“You heard everything?” Harry asks in dismay.

Neville nods, feeling sheepish himself.

“You are a powerful wizard, Neville,” Harry hastens to assure him. “Malfoy was – he didn’t-”

Falling silent, Harry sighs. “You won’t let it get you down, will you?”

“Do you believe everything he said, Harry?” Neville questions, hesitant to know the answer.

“I don’t need to believe him to know you’re powerful,” Harry states simply. “I already knew that.”

“How?” Neville asks plaintively. “I’m just Neville.”

“And I’m just Harry,” Harry smiles. “Look, can we go somewhere and talk?”

Neville nods. Harry hitches his bag higher over his shoulder, and they head towards the third floor, towards the secret passage that Harry said the twins showed him in third year, trying to encourage him to sneak out to Hogsmeade because his permission slip hadn’t been signed. Harry had thanked Fred and George for their thoughtfulness but said he’d promised his Oma he would stay out of trouble.

Taking a look at the Marauders Map, Harry ensures they’re the only ones around before muttering the password to the statue guarding it. Neville follows unhesitatingly behind him.

“There,” Harry says with satisfaction. “This should be private enough for us.”

They move a little further down before seating themselves on the ground.

“Is it true what Malfoy said?” Harry starts. “That you’re using your dad’s wand?”

Neville nods, pulling it out. “Gran looked after it... after... you knew about my parents,” he said suddenly. “I’ve never told you that. I’ve never told anyone. Why didn’t you tell me you knew?”

Harry looks uncomfortable again.

“Can I tell you something? Something I’ve never told Ron and Hermione? Only Regulus know this.”

Neville frowns. Something Hermione and Ron don’t know?

“You have to promise you won’t tell anyone,” Harry insists.

“I promise,” Neville says solemnly, realising this is important to Harry.

He listens in astonishment as Harry tells Neville about researching Sirius Black in their third year, the strange emphasis on making Harry promise not to go after him, and how it sparked his curiosity. While Hermione and Ron went to the village, Harry spent time in the library, not doing his homework but researching Sirius Black and finding out the man was his father’s best friend. How it all led to him researching all the other Black family members. How he found out about Neville’s parents because he’d been looking for names of other accused or convicted Death Eaters. How it led to him writing to Regulus and becoming Quill friends with him. Astounded, Neville listens as Harry continued reading through article after article, which said that Snape had been fostered by the Malfoys at the age of sixteen after his mother went missing. Finding that articles that had a picture of Eileen Prince marrying a muggle called Tobias Snape.

“Wait, wait, wait,” Neville says in shock as he tries to make sense of the flow of information. “Eileen Prince was Iris Pierce?”

Harry nods.

“That night after the feast, you made it sound like you only about Snape being Holly’s dad that summer because Regu-” he stops at the miserable look on Harry’s face.

The boy has been keeping this himself for so long. He lets Harry continue with his story, to which he listens part with amazement at how convoluted it sounds and part pride that Harry’s choosing to share it with him, rather than Hermione and Ron.

When Harry falls silent at the end of his tale, he lets Neville take his time to digest the information overload. He wants to ask many questions, so he starts with the one that has the most impact on him.

“You never told me you knew about my parents. Why? And why did you never tell Ron and Hermione?”

Harry frowns at him as if puzzled by that question.

“You never told us about your parents,” Harry starts, then seeing Neville flush, hastens to add, “and you had every right to keep it to yourself. Ron grew up in the wizarding world, and he never made a big deal about you being raised by your grandmother. I’m not sure if it was because he assumed that your parents were alive but left you with your grandmother to raise you or what. No one knew or at least talked about, what happened to your parents, but no one hesitated to talk about mine. After I read that article, I realised how selfish I’d been, acting as if I was the only one impacted by the war. I realised I wasn’t alone. I realised we were in the same boat. We both lost our parents. I just wanted to be a better friend to you because of that.”

“You’ve never been selfish, Harry,” Neville says in a quiet voice.

Harry smiles, though he doesn’t look like he believes it.

“I never told Hermione and Ron because it was your story to share. And I never told you I knew because I didn’t want you to think I only became friends with you out of pity. It was never pity, Neville,” Harry says, astutely guessing his friend’s thoughts.

“Why didn’t you say anything about Holly being Snape’s daughter back then?” Neville asks, moving the conversation forward.

“It was Oma’s secret. I didn’t even tell Holly.”

“Are you going to?”

“I don’t know,” Harry says forlornly.

Harry’s always been a protector from the moment Neville got to know the Boy-Who-Lived. He stood up for Ron on the train, Neville against Malfoy junior, and Hermione against a troll. He’s defended Neville to Ron and Hermione. He defends Ron and Hermione to each other. Harry’s grown up protecting Holly, so it’s become second nature to him. He even protected Iris or Eileen or whatever she decided to call herself.

Coming back to an earlier point, he asks, “So Malfoy – Lucius, that is- he doesn’t know his dad helped Snape’s mum?”

“I don’t think so,” Harry says with a shrug. “Lucius would have said something. He likes to show he has knowledge, so I think if he knew, he would have mentioned it by now.”

“You called him Lucius,” Neville points out.

“Draco is Malfoy, and it’s easier to call him Lucius,” Harry explains sheepishly. “As long as I don’t slip and call him Lucius in front of the man himself, I’ll be okay.”

“Just don’t call him Lucius in front of Hermione or the Weasleys,” Neville advises, “or they’ll think you’ve gone over to the dark side.”

Harry snorts. “I’ll have to show you Star Wars one day.”

Neville nods agreeably, even if he is confused about what Star Wars is.

“Harry? Why did you tell me all this?”

“I trust you,” the other answers simply. “I always have, I think. I suppose I never really showed you. Holly’s the most important person to me in the world, and I need help protecting her. I know I can’t always protect her. I like you, and more importantly, Holly likes you.”

“You trust me to protect Holly?” Neville asks in astonishment, knowing how big a deal that is. “Even though I can barely cast a Shield?”

The last words come out more bitterly than he intends.

“You can cast a Shield.”

“Not well enough. Malfoy had to weaken his spell,” Neville points out dejectedly.

“I’m not going to defend what he did,” Harry says. “I’m just going to ask; did it benefit you? How did it make you feel?”

“When my Shield didn’t fall immediately,” Neville starts slowly, “I felt like I could do it. That I could cast a good Shield. But it was all a lie.”

“No, it wasn’t,” Harry says with a frown.

“Yes, it was,” Neville argues. “You even said it to him. You told him my Shield should have fallen when it didn’t. Because he was purposely casting weak spells.”

“But he also said by the time your Shield fell, he was casting stronger spells,” Harry tells him. “I thought you heard everything with the Ears?”

Neville freezes. That must have been when he thought the meeting was over, and he heard Harry’s footsteps come closer to the door, and he’d yanked the Extendable Ears away. There had been that odd pause before the entrance to Malfoy’s classroom opened.

“What?” Neville asks, dazed.

“Lucius said by the time he made your Shield fall, he’d used a stronger spell than what he used on Hermione.”

“He did?” Neville says shakily. He stares at Harry, trying to discern whether his friend is lying to make him feel better, but doesn’t pick up on any deceit.

“What are you going to do about your wand?” Harry asks curiously, breaking the silence as Neville comes to grip with what he’s been told, staring at his father’s wand in awe.

“I don’t know,” Neville admits. “Gran doesn’t – she wants -I -”

He falls silent once more, thinking. It always feels like his wand, his father’s wand, fights him, resists him every time he tries to cast a spell. Any spell. Even a little spell like a Lumos.

“Neville? If you want to talk about your Gran or about anything else. You can talk to me. Any time. Yeah?”

Neville nods, his eyes shining gratefully. Perhaps he’ll take Harry up on that one day. Harry will understand. As careful as they both are in the dorms, they’ve seen each other’s scars.  

“You believe him? Malfoy? About everything he said about – about my dad, my gran and my mum,” Neville asks, unsure if he should believe it.

 Harry doesn’t answer straight away.

“I think I do,” he says eventually. “To an extent. Oma’s last letter said that Malfoys like collecting favours and how it’s really to hard to have a Malfoy owe someone else a favour because they try to avoid being in that position. I think Lucius doesn’t like admitting your mum helped him in some way, but he will try to get rid of that debt as soon as possible. But I also feel he will still try to use his debt to your mum to his own advantage. He’s still a Malfoy, after all.”

“Do you trust him?”

“I trust him to look after Holly because she’s family to him,” Harry says without hesitation. Neville believes this to be a big deal as Harry doesn’t trust just anyone with Holly. Not even Hermione and Ron, and despite their easier relationship with Holly, not even Fred and George. “But I know the minute I stop being useful to him, he won’t hesitate to drop me.”

Neville nods, glad his friend has got the measure of Lucius Malfoy.

“Malfoy was right about one thing, though,” Neville changes the topic. “You could have held your Shield for longer. Why did you drop it?”

Though Harry made his Shield fall as naturally as possible, Neville had seen him let it go on purpose.

To his surprise, Harry chuckles.

“Lucius said he’s going to have everyone do the same thing. I’m sure he’s done it for the classes before us. I’m competitive enough to want to set a record, but I wanted to see where everyone is at first.”

Neville smiles.

“Besides, I already have a target on my back. I did well enough to show I could hold my own but left enough for everyone else to think I have no potential to improve.”

It’s a clever way of operating, and Neville tells Harry this.

“Thanks,” Harry smiles back. “Reckon we should go back up now.”

Neville nods agreeably. He’s not naive to think Harry shared everything with him, but he recognises that his friend has shared a lot more than he even intended. Neville’s never felt like he’s been in a position of trust before. And he feels much better about being friends with Harry as well. When Harry began hanging out with him a lot more last year, Neville thought it was only because he and Ron had fallen out. He fully expected Harry to choose Ron over him when they made up, but Harry surprised him by continuing to hang out with him, even following him to the Herbology club every so often.

“Are you heading to the kitchens again?” Neville asks once they exit the secret passage after ten minutes of waiting to ensure there is no one around to see them emerge.

“Yeah. Wanna go with me?”

“Yeah,” Neville agrees, finally realising that none of Harry’s invitations is out of pity.

They head towards the kitchen in companionable silence as Neville curiously looks forward to seeing what surprise Harry has been preparing for Holly all day between lessons.

ooOoo

Walking back to the Great Hall with Holly, Severus reflects on how the lesson went for the rest of the day. The other Houses were wary, but the Slytherins were a little better, though he noticed their watchful eyes on his daughter. He doesn’t like how Carter Wilkinson, Yaxley’s cousin, eyes Holly. Wilkinson is only a fourth year, but he’s been a problem since his first.

He adds Wilkinson’s name to his mental list of children he needs to watch out for. Lucius told him that Holly had spent one evening in the Slytherin Common room with Draco and his friends, and it had gone well. Despite Lucius’s defection from the Death Eater’s ranks, the wizard still has plenty of political power, connections and favours owed. It will be someone with a death wish to attack Draco. The Greengrass and Zabini matriarchs are forces to be reckoned with. Nott Senior might be old, but he is still a wily bastard. He might have fled the country, leaving his child behind the safety of Hogwarts with Lucius’s promise to keep him safe, but he’s taught his son enough that anyone attempting to attack Theo would think twice.

Lucius chose well when he’d defected from the Dark Lord, taking with him some powerful allies. And their children would protect Holly well, yet they were still only children. As much as Severus would prefer Holly spend time with Draco rather than with Potter, the Slytherin Common room is not the place to do that.

He will have to think about it.

Taking his seat at the Head Table for the evening, he notices Holly automatically giving the Gryffindor table a once-over. Doing the same, he finds that Potter and his cohorts are absent. He’s not sure what to make of hers, or Potter’s, behaviour all day. She’d missed him at breakfast, clearly, but had not been bothered at lunch.

During his lessons, she’d sat at his desk, completing her work, and he knows this because he checked regularly, and presided over his class like an inspector would. He constantly found himself checking the persistent need to snap at idiot students. Forced to moderate his tone when spotting little twits too stupid to tell one end of a cauldron from another at one look from his daughter.

She’s up to something. She and Potter are conspiring in something together; he knows it deep in his gut. He’d buried his instincts under sentimentality, and now he’s ready to dig into this situation with a vengeance. As soon as his probation period is over, when he can come and go as he pleases, he intends to head straight over to Surrey. Find Iris’s home and investigate everything. Arabella Figg should know, given that she’d lived in Surrey almost as long as Potter. Surely Figg will have some information.

Lucius slides into a seat between Holly and Minerva. Thankfully Minerva seems to have recovered from her fit madness from lunch as she looks her usual stern self and greets everyone soberly.

“I heard you let your class go early,” Minerva mentions, looking at Lucius with a raised brow after he returns her greeting.

“The students and I were at a good stopping point where it made no sense to start something new,” Lucius informs her.

Minerva nods, not questioning the blond further.

“Why do you have different food?” he hears Lucius ask.

Looking away from the Slytherin table, Severus sweeps his eyes to their table, wondering who Lucius is speaking to. He looks down at the fare displayed in front of them. He finds chicken pie in front of him and expects something like stew or steak and kidney pudding.

However, he sees some sort of curry dish, with a tray of garlicky-smelling naan bread and a bowl of boiled rice directly in front of Holly. The sight certainly brings back memories. He’s not had any sort of curry in over twenty years. It’s not something that’s ever been served at Malfoy Manor. When they could afford the occasional takeaway, it was something his father brought home when he was tired of his wife’s pitiful attempt at cooking.

“Jealous?” Holly smiles impishly at her godfather.

“Smells nice,” Lucius comments. “Are you going to share?” Lucius asks.

“Maybe.”

“What is it?”

“Is that Chicken curry?” Minerva asks, sniffing in their direction.

“Maybe,” Holly repeats. “Want to try some?”

“Hold on,” Lucius inserts indignantly. “Why did you offer Minerva the food but not me?”

“I didn’t say you couldn’t have any,” Holly defends. “But only a little.”

“I’ll be having words with Pomona when she comes in,” Minerva mutters from Lucius’s other side. “She didn’t even mention curry would be on the new menu from today.”

“New menu?” Lucius queries.

“While hosting Beauxbatons and Durmstrang last year, Albus asked the House-Elves to prepare food contingent to their countries. Some of our students liked trying something new and requested a new menu to be introduced every so often. Pomona offered to coordinate and was given a list of recipes the volunteer students wanted to add to the menu.”

“Why is it displayed in front of Holly only?” Lucius questions.

Curiously, they look around the Head table and then the House tables. The new food is indeed only displayed in front of Holly.

“Curious,” Minerva frowns. “Have you ever tried Indian food, Lucius?”

“No, he hasn’t,” Severus answers for him. Having resided in the Manor for sixteen years, the Potions Master knows the menu has remained the same.

“Well, your taste buds are in for a treat,” Minerva says eagerly.

“Only if there’s enough of the new food left for us,” Lucius points out dryly.

Looking down at Holly, Severus finally pays attention to his daughter’s actions. While the adults have been conversing and inspecting the other tables, Holly has already served herself a plate full of curry and rice. Oblivious to their eyes on her, she reaches for a garlic naan, which by no means is a small piece of bread, tears some off, dunks it into the curry sauce and stuffs it into her mouth, repeating the process several times. If Severus hadn’t pointedly cleared his throat, he is sure Holly would have proceeded until the whole naan was gone. As it is, her cheeks are bulging, and he’s concerned for her ability to chew and hopes she doesn’t choke.

The last time she ate food with such eagerness, it was those pancakes made by Potter. A suspicion enters his mind as the memory of those pancakes returns. He whips his head around to the Gryffindor table, but Potter still hasn’t arrived. His friends are missing as well.

“Chew, darling,” he hears Lucius admonish. Turning back to Holly, he sees she is chewing vigorously.

“What’s the rush?”

Having finally swallowed, she says, “I love this food.”

Severus turns his attention to watching Lucius take his first bite of Butter Chicken curry. The blond has never eaten curry before. The high-end restaurants Lucius likes to frequent, serve foods like steaks, lobster, and fish. Even in his travels, Lucius has never gone further than Europe, where he tended to eat familiar foods served in Britain.

He smirks in amusement as Lucius tries his first spoonful of the sauce. As a man of manners and decorum, Lucius wouldn’t eat with his hands in front of his students, even if their focus is on their own dinner. Lucius’s face instantly takes on a red hue as he valiantly tries to stop himself from choking. Minerva, looking equally amused, leisurely hands the blond a glass of water.

“It’s hot,” Holly comments, seeming to be as concerned as she is as tickled by his reaction as the others are.

Still red, Lucius manages to choke out, “I’m fine.” However, the way he chugs down the second glass of water contests that.

Minerva placidly begins to eat, devouring her food with great enjoyment.

“It’s just the right amount of spice,” she states with relish, dunking her own naan with enthusiasm. “We should have asked Albus about changing the menu years ago. I have to wait until summer to get food like this with my brother and his family.”

Lucius tries again more cautiously, adding the rice to the spoonful to temper the spices. He takes it better this time, while Holly returns to attacking her food with her previous enjoyment rather than behaving like a Weasley.

Pomona comes ambling in, looking delighted at the new cuisine.

“Oh, why is it only on one side of the table?” she asks, looking confused.

A part of Severus relaxes. If Pomona organised this as part of her initiative to introduce diversity to the menu, then Potter had nothing to do with it. He adds some curry and rice to his plate next to his chicken pie. He didn’t realise until then how much he’s missed having a curry. In an attempt to appease his father, his mother had tried to make it at home once. However, she was missing several spices and ended up burning the chicken with too much pepper to compensate for the other herbs. Her knowledge of cooking for sustenance had been shockingly lacking for someone who’d been so knowledgeable about potion ingredients. Not that Severus is any better in the kitchen.

Pomona knocks on the table and politely requests, “Nellie, please send up the rest of the curry.”

Students gasp in wonder at the sudden appearance of the new dish. Looking over Great Hall, he watches in curiosity at their reactions. Many muggle-borns students are more accepting and even pleased with the new food in front of them.

Pomona stands up and brings everyone’s attention to herself.

“I’m sure you all see a new dish in front of your today. I apologise for not announcing this earlier. However, I would like to inform you all that as part of a continuation of the new dishes introduced to us last year by our visitors, we will continue to add something different, something exotic, from other parts of the world on a regular basis. Every Tuesday evening at five pm, I will be holding cooking lessons in dungeon number nine. Everyone is welcome to join. Thank you very much. I hope you all enjoy the new dish.”

With a beaming smile, she sits down to enjoy her own plate.

Severus cleans his plate, debating on reaching for seconds. The curry is delicious, and though the rice looks like it’s plainly boiled, it’s actually been spiced with cinnamon, cardamom, cloves and cumin seeds. He hopes this food becomes a regular on the menu.  

“It looks like the boy used thigh meat instead of breast,” Pomona comments, “an excellent choice.”

“The boy?” Minerva questions curiously, helping herself to more curry.

“Mr Potter,” Pomona continues casually, paying more attention to the food. “He spent an hour yesterday going over the recipe with the House-Elves and helped them marinate the chicken. Then this morning, he helped them mix the dough for the naan bread. It needs time to proof, but the House-Elves took care of that. He did a quick test run during lunch to ensure everything tasted okay and even helped set up after classes ended. Poor dear didn’t get to eat any of this before he had to run off for Quidditch practice, but I gave him special permission to eat with his team in the kitchens when practice is over.”

 Severus quickly changes his mind about having seconds, mood soured that Potter was involved in cooking all this.

“A little too much spice for my liking,” Severus announces and reaches for the comparatively bland chicken pie instead.

Holly ignores his comment and happily adds, “This must be my surprise. Harry said he had one for me. I told him I was missing Oma’s food, and he went and made her recipe for me.”

Bestowing her with an indulgent smile, Minerva says in a low voice, “And I’m glad he’s shared with the rest of us. I had heard he cooked over the summer while staying with Regulus. I heard good things about his food but never got to sample any myself until today. Mr Potter certainly lived up to the hype.”

“Harry’s a brilliant cook,” Holly pronounces, dragging her piece of naan through more curry sauce, oblivious to Severus’s simmering anger.

It’s just one more way Potter is buying his daughter’s affection.