Harry stared blankly at his Transfiguration homework, tapping his quill absently on the parchment. His mind was far away from Transfiguration. It had been a couple of days since Leif and Alexei had explained the…bond that apparently existed between him, Malfoy, and Snape. He couldn’t get it out of his head. It seemed impossible, given their mutual hatred, but he also couldn’t forget what the wards had looked like. The way the magic had tangled together so…familiarly. He’d felt it, the connection that held the magic together. Leif had said it didn’t matter how they felt about each other, but could it all mean something? Leif had said he and Alexei couldn’t tell them everything, so what didn’t they know? Why was it the three of them that had this bond? Why had his and Malfoy’s magic chosen this place when they wished for a home?

Did all three of them need a home? Did their magic believe they would be each other’s home in some way?

“Merlin, Potter, would you stop that?”

He blinked and looked at Malfoy beside him. The Slytherin was also working on summer assignments though was currently glaring at him.

“What?” he said dumbly.

Malfoy just gestured somewhat aggressively at Harry’s quill before turning back to his work, shaking his head.

“Oh, sorry,” he muttered even though the blonde was no longer listening.

He gazed at his assignment, trying to continue. He managed to write a few more words before his mind wandered again.

All three of them had been more on edge, causing a return of the tension in the manor. Snape was more snappish, Malfoy snippy, and Harry irritable. Anything one of them did or said seemed to set off one of the others. It made him doubt what Leif and Alexei had said. How could they have anything resembling a bond? How could their magic have thought this could be a home?

He frowned as he pictured the wards again.

“I told you to stop!”

Harry jumped when his quill was suddenly ripped from his hand and thrown to the floor beyond their desk. He turned angry eyes on Malfoy.

“What the hell are you doing?” Harry demanded.

“You’re being annoying and I’m trying to work,” Malfoy snapped.

“You’re such a prat,” Harry said and he reached out, snatching Malfoy’s quill and throwing it as well to join his on the floor.

“Potter!” Malfoy shouted.

“Typical. Can’t take what you do yourself,” Harry sneered.

“Both of you, shut up and get outside,” Snape snarled from the adjacent table. “Go fly, burn off this energy and stop fighting.”

Harry glared at both Slytherins, but did as he was told. He was still angry, but he was thrilled that he was allowed to fly. He’d hoped Snape would let him eventually, but had assumed it would never happen. It wasn’t like Snape was going out of his way to make them enjoy their time in Prince Manor, only tolerate it. He would take the opportunity before it was taken away.

He grabbed his Firebolt and hurried downstairs. He jogged out the back door and took off on his broom as soon as he cleared the back porch. He zipped around, grinning as the warm air whipped across his face and through his hair. It had been so long since he’d flown since the tournament had cancelled Quidditch the previous year. He didn’t count the First Task since he’d been too preoccupied with the dragon to enjoy the flight.

He circled the property, skimming the wards. He was doing some large, loose loops when he spotted Malfoy join him in the air. The blonde flew past him with a glare that Harry returned while resolving to just ignore the Slytherin. He refused to let Malfoy corrupt one of his favourite activities.

They kept their distance from each other, but Harry found himself still keeping an eye on the blonde. He didn’t trust Malfoy not to try something when he could easily make it look like an accidental fall. How could his magic have believed he would be safe with these two?

He circled up into the air and made more lazy loops. He felt like he needed to know more about the supposed bond. What did it really mean? What did it mean for his newly acquired, strange connection to Voldemort? Was his connection to Voldemort a similar kind of bond?

He sighed, wishing summer was over and he could just escape the confusion that was Snape and Malfoy. He just wanted something to make sense. It had been four weeks of nonstop confusion, even longer if he counted the dreams from the previous year leading up to the graveyard and his scar pain from the last four years.

He came to a stop in the air and hovered, sighing as he gazed at the horizon beyond the iron fencing. He was tired of confusion, tired of trying to figure it out. He didn’t want to figure it all out. He wanted someone else to do it, or, at least, someone else to help him better than his friends could. He glanced at the manor as Snape crossed his mind, making him frown.

He shook his head at himself, clearing his mind and taking off through the air again. He did a loop at the top of his ascent and then dropped into a sharp dive towards the ground. He pushed his Firebolt as fast as he could, watching the ground get closer and closer. As soon as he pinpointed the right moment, he pulled up sharply, letting his toes graze the grass. He was spinning upwards out of his dive when he was sideswiped by Malfoy, knocking him off balance and course. He wobbled for a moment before getting his bearings again. He spun around with an angry glare, finding Malfoy regaining his balance as well.

“Malfoy! What the hell were you doing? Trying to make us crash?” he shouted angrily.

“I thought you needed help!” Malfoy yelled back.

Harry felt an anger rise up in him in the face of his discomfort as Malfoy’s words made him think of the bond. As if he would ever need or want help from Malfoy. Like Snape, Malfoy had done nothing but torment him. He couldn’t believe a word of Malfoy’s excuse that it had all been an act. Malfoy wasn’t capable of helping anyone; that required a conscience.

“Unlike you, I know how to fly!” Harry sniped. “And I don’t need help from the likes of you!”

Malfoy flew over to him so they were in each other’s faces, both red from exertion and anger, eyes flashing.

“And what’s that supposed to mean?”

In his overwhelmed mind, any moments of civility or understanding between them ceased to exist and Harry snarled at the blonde.

“A Slytherin bastard who can’t stand up to his own father,” he spat.

He watched Malfoy’s eyes harden with hate. “And what about you? Too weak to handle a Muggle.”

“At least my parents loved me.”

“How would you know?”

Harry felt himself become enraged and it rushed through him, making his ears ring and his skin grow hot. He saw nothing but Malfoy’s sneering face. He balled up his hand and flung it through the air, his fist connecting with Malfoy’s cheek. Caught off guard, Malfoy tumbled off his broom and to the ground. Harry gasped when he found himself falling as well, Malfoy having grasped onto his pant leg as he fell.

Harry grunted loudly as the wind was knocked from his lungs and pain radiated through his back. As he laid there, dazed, it occurred to him that they had been fairly high in the air and their impact with the ground had not been nearly as hard as it should have been.

“Malfoy! Potter!”

Harry groaned at Snape’s angry voice. The man must have seen them fighting. Now they were going to get it.

“Get up. Now,” Snape growled.

Harry cracked open his eyes, his vision still swimming from the collision, and peered up at Snape who was towering over him. The man’s face was twisted with fury and he couldn’t help the slight tightening of his stomach with the anxiety he tried to pretend he wasn’t feeling. He knew Snape had told them he wouldn’t hurt them, but, in the face of this rage, Harry couldn’t help but wonder. What would stop him? Nothing had ever stopped Vernon. People just seemed to want to hurt him and, considering how much Snape hated him, he was sure the professor wouldn’t be any different.

“Up!” Snape bellowed when neither he or Malfoy moved.

Harry jumped at the volume and pushed himself up, stumbling to his feet. Malfoy seemed to struggle to do the same beside him. His entire body was beginning to ache and his head was spinning.

“Get inside,” Snape hissed in a dangerously low voice that was just as terrifying as when he was yelling.

Swallowing thickly in the face of Snape’s rage and grimacing at having to move, Harry forced his feet forward, heading towards the manor with Malfoy shuffling alongside him. They got to the door at the same time and glowered at each other, shouldering each other painfully until Malfoy squeezed his way through the door first. Harry wished he could hurt Malfoy just by looking at him. If he could, Malfoy would be dead on the floor.

“Sitting room,” Snape ordered sharply behind them.

They obeyed without question, following the, by this point, well-known path to the sitting room. He hadn’t been exactly comfortable in the manor, but he had managed to feel touches of comfort in some rooms, including the sitting room. In this moment, however, any hints of comfort were non-existent as he and Malfoy walked in, side by side, with Snape haunting them from behind.

“Sit. Down,” Snape ground out.

Harry sat on the sofa, casting a glare at Malfoy when the blonde sat beside him. He used his periphery to track Snape who summoned a chair from the kitchen and placed it in front of them, sitting. He didn’t dare meet the man’s eyes. He kept his gaze straight ahead on a random spot on the carpet, the edge of Snape’s robes just barely in his line of sight.

“Look at me,” Snape demanded.

Harry wanted to refuse, but he wasn’t sure how much further they could push the man. So, clenching his jaw, he raised his eyes and met Snape’s steadily. He did his best not to show any reaction despite the jolt of fear he felt at the flash of pure rage that appeared in Snape’s eyes.

“What in the hell were you two doing out there?” Snape asked, glaring at both of them as he waited for an answer.

“He crashed into me!”

“He punched me!”

Harry and Malfoy had spoken at the same time and turned their glowers on each other when they realized.

“I thought you were falling!”

“I know how to fly, Malfoy!”

“You were being an idiot!”

“I was fine until you crashed into me!”

“You didn’t have to punch me!”

“And you didn’t have to talk about my parents!”

“You talked about mine first!”

“Because you’re a right bastard that—”

“Enough!” Snape roared.

Harry and Malfoy both flinched and fell silent, turning back to the man, though their glares were still in place and their jaws still tight.

“I believe I told you to stop fighting,” Snape said angrily. “Clearly I was mistaken in thinking you could be mature enough to fly in the same airspace for an hour without feeling the need to engage in your childish bickering that I have told you several times I will not tolerate.”

Any argument Harry or Malfoy may have had was silenced with a single look.

“If you are going to act like children, you will be treated as such. You will not go near each other. You will remain in your rooms except when brewing with me or completing homework in the study with me for the next week. Clearly I cannot leave you alone.”

“Sir!” they protested together, appalled.

Harry couldn’t believe this. They were back to being stuck in their rooms? Were they…grounded? He could hardly comprehend the concept, having never had anything like it ever been applied to him. It was something…parents did.

He pushed the thought aside before it caused too much confusion.

It was all Malfoy’s fault. He turned to glare at Malfoy again.

“This is your fault,” he snapped at the blonde who turned to him, outraged.

“As if, Potter! You attacked me! It’s your fault!”

“You—”

“Enough!” Snape roared again.

Harry and Malfoy removed their eyes from each other and dropped their heads, becoming slightly cowed in the face of Snape’s unrelenting rage.

“Get to your rooms, both of you, and stay there,” Snape ordered. “I don’t want to see either of you until dinner.”

His heart pounding with both anger and still fear at what else Snape may deem an appropriate punishment for their behaviour, Harry gingerly pushed off the sofa and made his way up the stairs, Malfoy stomping a few steps behind. He walked down the hall, stopping at the door to his room, his hand on the knob. He glanced at Malfoy as the blonde walked past him and to his own room on the opposite side of the hall. He twisted his face into a responding sneer when Malfoy looked at him and then pushed into his room, nearly slamming the door behind him. He stopped himself, however, assuming a slamming door would not make Snape any happier.

He wanted to fling himself onto his bed, but restrained as his anger receded just enough to allow him to remember the pain he was in. Snape had obviously eased their impact with the ground, but only so they weren’t seriously injured or killed. They had still hit hard, and he was sure his entire back was bruised. He sat carefully, groaning at the throbbing in both his back and head. He hadn’t realized at the time that his head had smacked the ground as well. As he began to relax, the pain really set in and he couldn’t help the tiny whimper that escaped his lips. He was used to excruciating pain, especially during the summers, but it was still hard to deal with considering, for the first time, his days weren’t filled with pain.

He wanted to lay down, but wasn’t sure his back would allow him to. He glanced at his bedside table when he heard a tiny pop and the clink of glass on wood. A small vial had appeared and he instantly recognized the potion inside as Pain Reliever.

A part of him thought to refuse the potion. It was obviously from Snape and he didn’t want the man to think he needed his help or pity in any fashion, the supposed bond flashing through his mind again. However, when his back and head throbbed again so badly it took his breath away, he gave in and grabbed the potion, downing it.

He stayed sitting on the edge of his bed until he felt the potion begin to take effect. The throbbing dulled and he felt able to move once again. He swung his legs up onto the bed and let his head drop onto the pillows, releasing a sigh of relief at the softness that cradled him.

He stared up at the ceiling as his pain dissipated and his anger calmed. As he settled, he found a new emotion replacing the anger.

Guilt.

He found himself regretting what he said, feeling bad for hitting Malfoy, and feeling ashamed for making Snape so angry yet again. He knew he shouldn’t have said what he said; he didn’t even mean or believe it. From the little he knew, there was no way Malfoy was weak for not stopping his father. He couldn’t even imagine the things Lucius Malfoy was capable of. He didn’t even know why he started the fight. It was completely unnecessary and his anger was unjustified. Whether he needed it or not, Malfoy had been willing to try and help him. Even he couldn’t ignore the changes between them that the gesture indicated. Prior to that summer, Malfoy never would’ve even considered helping him. Then there were their moments of civility. The night they’d played chess had actually been fun.

He groaned quietly, rubbing his eyes under his glasses roughly. Malfoy hadn’t deserved any of it. He’d always wanted someone who could understand the things he’d been through and, whether he wanted to admit it or not, Malfoy understood. So did Snape.

So, why wouldn’t he let anything change?

Could Malfoy and Snape change?

Did he want them to?

He sighed, frustrated. He just couldn’t understand anything and he honestly didn’t know what he wanted anymore.

“Mr. Potter, as Alexei is unavailable today, you will be accompanying me to headquarters as requested by the headmaster,” Snape said the next morning.

Harry glanced at the professor and nodded before taking a small bite of eggs. Breakfast was awkward. Harry didn’t know what to do or think or say or feel. He still felt guilty, much to his confusion, but he didn’t know what to do about it. He didn’t understand how he could feel bad about anything related to Snape and Malfoy. It didn’t help that Leif was looking at them all curiously, clearly knowing something had happened, but not knowing what. So, he sat silently, slowly eating while keeping his eyes on his food.

“We will be doing some training while they are gone,” Leif said to Malfoy.

Harry saw Malfoy give his own silent nod of acknowledgement just like his. The grey eyes flicked up and met his unexpectedly. He instantly wanted to glare, but a large part of him just couldn’t muster it up. Instead, they stared at each other for a moment, unsure what they were seeing in the boy across from them, before looking away with frowns.

“Alexei will return tomorrow,” Snape said to Harry as though to assure him his own magical training was not forgotten.

Harry just nodded again, still stuck with the odd twisting in his stomach at how coolly Snape was treating them. It made him realize how different things had actually been and a part of him was uncomfortable having made Snape so angry. He didn’t like the feeling of having Snape pissed at him though he wasn’t sure why. He’d never cared before. He had to admit, it would be nice to get away and be with his friends. At least they made sense and nothing there had changed.

“We will return in a few hours,” Snape told Leif. “Come on, Potter.”

Harry quickly finished his juice and followed the professor to the downstairs study. He took a handful of the powder held out to him and swiftly disappeared through the fireplace. Once spit out the other side, he stumbled as usual and coughed as he inhaled ash by accident. He was startled by the hand on his back and the rush of magic that cleared his lungs. He looked up as the hand disappeared, expecting Sirius or even Dumbledore, but was even more startled to find only Snape sweeping from the room. He frowned, even more confused than he was before.

He followed Snape’s path except, instead of heading to the kitchen, he ascended the stairs in search of his friends. He remembered Ron’s room from last time and pushed his way through the closed door. Ron, Hermione, Ginny, and the twins were scattered around the room, talking quietly. When they noticed him, the conversations stopping, making him frown.

“Harry!” Hermione cried, rushing over to engulf him in a tight hug.

He flinched, but hugged back, hoping she didn’t notice.

“We didn’t know you were coming,” Ginny said.

Harry moved to sit on a desk as Hermione released him, his feet on the chair. “Me neither, until Snape showed up this morning and practically dragged me through the Floo,” he lied. Well, it wasn’t a complete lie, more an embellished truth. He couldn’t imagine trying to explain the truth to them.

“Well, glad you’re here, mate,” Ron said.

Harry smiled. “Thanks. So, what’s been going on? What were you talking about?”

“Not much. It’s been pretty quiet ‘round here since your birthday,” Ron said with a shrug.

“We were just talking about Malfoy,” Fred said.

“The prat’s still missing,” George said.

“We were making bets on what happened to the little ferret,” Ron said with an amused smirk.

“The reigning theories are that he’s now a marked Death Eater and is hiding out, or he’s dead,” Ginny said. “Kind of hoping for that one.”

“Killed by You-Know-Who,” Fred said.

“Or by a Death Eater,” George said.

“Maybe Snape,” Fred said.

“Maybe Lucius,” George said.

“Aw, come on,” Ron said. “Lucius would never hurt his precious ferret.”

“I could see Snape doing it,” Ginny said.

“Come on, we don’t know he’s dead,” Hermione said, unconvincingly disapproving.

“Bloody well hope he is,” Ron muttered, receiving a glare from Hermione and a frown from Harry.

“He’s only fifteen,” Harry said, getting a raised eyebrow from Ron and odd looks from the others.

“And?” Ron said. “After everything he’s done the last four years, it’s no less than he deserves, in my opinion.”

Harry’s frown deepened. “He’s a right prat, sure, but I wouldn’t say he deserves to die because of it.”

All five of them returned his frown, glancing at each other.

“What if he could change?” Harry said, thinking about the moments they’d managed to get along. “What if he could be different? Better?”

Ron scoffed while the others gave him varying looks of disbelief and confusion.

“People like him don’t change, mate,” Ron said. “He’s gearing up to be Daddy’s special Death Eater.”

“Maybe he’s not,” Harry said. “Maybe that’s why he’s gone.”

“I think you’re losing it,” Ron said. “It’s that safe house. No good to be alone that much.”

“But—”

“Ron’s right, Harry,” Ginny said. “This is Malfoy we’re talking about.”

“He is who he is,” Hermione added.

“Right,” Harry mumbled, unsure what else to say as his thoughts raced around. “So, uh, anything else happening?”

“Been lots of talk about the Ministry,” Hermione said. “They’re in an uproar about this whole You-Know-Who business.”

Harry nodded, remembering the various front-page stories of the Prophet speculating about his level of insanity and Dumbledore’s range of control over him and Hogwarts. He was furious that he was being called a liar and the Ministry was refusing to accept Voldemort’s return. He watched Cedric fall and wondered what would have to happen to make the world believe the truth.

“We’ve heard a bit from Dad,” Ron said.

“It’s more than denial,” Fred said.

“Seems something’s happened inside the Ministry,” George said.

Harry frowned. “Like what?”

“No idea,” George said.

“Dad doesn’t know much,” Fred said.

“Heard from an Unspeakable,” George said.

“Something happened in the Department of Mysteries,” Fred said.

“And they’re keeping it quiet,” George said.

“Department of Mysteries?” Harry repeated. “What is that?”

“A department filled with the deepest, darkest secrets of the Ministry and wizarding world,” Ron said.

“So they say,” Ginny said.

“No one but Unspeakables know what’s in there and they’re not allowed to talk about it,” Ron said.

“Hence the name,” Hermione said and Ron nodded.

“Surprised Dad knows,” Ron said.

“If anyone finds out, that Unspeakable is in loads of trouble,” Fred said.

“So is Dad,” George added.

“What would happen?” Harry asked.

“Fired,” Fred said.

“And Obliviated,” George said.

Harry shuddered, remembering Lockhart’s backfired attempt on his and Ron’s minds. “How do you know all of this? I thought they were silencing the meetings?”

“They do,” Ron said.

“Dad’s talked about it at dinner,” Ginny said.

“Guess he doesn’t think it has to be confidential since no one can do anything with the information,” Ron said.

Harry wanted to keep talking about it, but they were interrupted by Mrs. Weasley calling them for lunch. He sighed and followed the others downstairs into the kitchen. He smiled at Sirius and sat to his godfather’s left and looked around the table, finding it fuller than on his birthday.

Dumbledore was at the opposite end of the long table with Snape, Moody, Mr. Weasley, and Bill Weasley. Lupin was across from Harry with the pink-haired woman and Charlie Weasley beside him. On the other side of Ron and Hermione beside him was a large black man and a face he recognized from just weeks earlier: Fleur Delacour, the Triwizard champion from Beauxbatons.

Everyone was engaged in mumbled conversations, some serious, some not based on participants’ facial expressions. He smiled in thanks as Mrs. Weasley gave him a large sandwich and glass of pumpkin juice, patting his shoulder as she did. As he took a bite, his eyes were pulled to the far end of the table again. Dumbledore, Snape, Moody, Bill, and Mr. Weasley were clearly having an intense conversation and Harry thought back to what the twins had said about something happening in the Ministry. He wondered if that’s what they were talking about. Maybe Mr. Weasley knew more than he’d let on to the younger of his children.

As he watched, Dumbledore suddenly looked at him, followed by Snape moments later. Both sets of eyes were piercing, seeming to be searching for something but he felt they were each looking for something different. The stares only lasted a few seconds before Dumbledore said something to Snape, making the man’s face tighten. They both stood, Dumbledore bidding goodbye to the others, before leaving the kitchen together.

“So, how are you kid?”

Harry turned to Sirius as his godfather broke his preoccupation. He couldn’t help but notice that Sirius seemed to be a bit drawn, his face tight and little light in his eyes. He figured being locked inside after twelve years of imprisonment was likely taking its toll on the man.

“I’m alright,” Harry said. “Glad to get out of the house a bit.”

“I tried to get Dumbledore to let you stay here so you weren’t all alone in that safe house, but this place isn’t good enough apparently,” Sirius said, sounding bitter.

“It’s alright, Sirius,” Harry said. “It’s been a better summer than it usually is.”

Sirius laughed. “I feel that. My summers were pretty awful too.”

“You said you ran away, lived with my dad,” Harry said.

Sirius nodded. “I couldn’t take my family anymore. not that I really considered them family. The Potters were my true family. They took me in like it was nothing, took care of me in all the ways no one ever had before.”

Harry glanced at where Snape had been sitting, Sirius’ words making him think of the last month with the professor. His eyebrows furrowed slightly.

“I have to admit, though, James was insufferable,” Sirius said. “On and on about Lily. Nearly hexed him.”

Harry grinned. “Did she like him?”

Sirius barked another laugh. “Not even a little bit. He was too cocky and pigheaded for her. Plus, she was still ‘friends’ with Snivellus until fifth year so she was a bit brainwashed until then.”

Harry’s smiled faded. “What happened?”

“He was awful to her, but it did make her realize what he really is,” Sirius said. “She completely cut him off after that, wouldn’t listen to a thing he said. For the best, really. She started dating James about a year later. Think that really set Snape off.”

Harry frowned. “Did you and my dad talk to Snape much since he was friends with my mum?”

“I wouldn’t say we talked,” Sirius said. “Pranked him loads though. It was hilarious. I’ll have to tell you some. Maybe you could use them on Malfoy, if he’s still alive anyway. No great shame if he’s not. Got enough Death Eaters pretending to play both sides.”

Harry took a bite of his sandwich to avoid having to say anything. Each time Snape and Malfoy had been mentioned, his stomach clenched, and it was made worse at the hate spewed at them. He knew only weeks ago he would’ve been participating in the hate, but, now, he couldn’t do it. He knew the two Slytherins in a way his friends and godfather didn’t and it was changing them in his eyes, and changing him. His world looked different now and it was changing more and more every day.