Spending most of New Year’s sick with the flu was certainly not ideal. Draco and Harry, who had originally been planning to stay up until midnight together to celebrate, were instead stuck in the throes of fever and sickness, and it was a good five or so days before either of them were well enough to surface from their beds.

 

Harry was still rather shocked by how accommodating Snape had been about the whole thing, actually. Since he wasn’t the most sympathetic or demonstrative of people, Harry had expected to be generally ignored or left to his own devices while he was unwell. To the contrary, Snape had actually gone to great lengths to look after him. He would check in on Harry every hour or so to see if he needed anything, or to coax potions or food into him despite his protestations. Sometimes, it left all left Harry feeling a little bit like Dudley, but Snape certainly didn’t fuss over him like Harry’s aunt tended to coddle his cousin. Snape was still his no-nonsense self, even if his general strict and focused demeanour was now switched to ensuring Harry’s recovery.

 

Once he was well enough to function again, though, Harry’s mind was focused on one thing, and one thing alone: Occlumency lessons. He practically had to beg on bended knee to convince Snape to give them to him again, especially after his bout of flu, but the man eventually caved, and agreed to spend the weekend before the spring term started at Hogwarts teaching Harry to escape his bad memories. It wasn’t an instant process - Snape kept having to pull Harry out to calm down when he was unable to manage it - but Harry liked to think he was getting a bit closer. So, on the morning of the day the Hogwarts Express would arrive back with all of the holidaying students, Harry found himself plunging into a great, dark chasm.

 

By now, it was growing familiar. 

 

They were in the hallway of Number Four Privet Drive, nearly a decade ago. Aunt Petunia was walking down the stairs with a bottle of medicine and an exhausted look on her face. Harry was locked away in the cupboard under the stairs, just four years old.

 

He squeezed his eyes shut, Snape’s hand firm and steadying on his shoulder. 

 

“Aunty, please no -”

 

“Don't you dare fight me again!”

 

Harry pictured the Quidditch pitch, trying to ignore the battle occurring just next to him. Tall, golden hoops, white snow, looming castle, the wind on his face… he lengthened his inhales and exhaled, stuttering past the tense knot in his chest, and thought hard of the Quidditch Pitch. Nothing else, not what was going on around him…

 

And the more he thought, the more Aunt Petunia's voice and his younger self’s sniffles faded. Eventually, the wind on Harry's face that he had been imagining became real, and he at last dared to open his eyes. Privet Drive was gone, and instead, he was on the Quidditch Pitch with one highly satisfied Snape.

 

Harry grinned, and pumped his fist into the air. “Finally!”

 

“Well done,” Snape said. His eyes glittered with triumph. 

 

Harry let out a delighted laugh and stared down at the crack. It seemed smaller than before, somehow. “I did it! I finally did it! Fourth time's the charm, I guess…”

 

Harry suddenly realised how weak and wobbly his knees felt, and staggered backwards. The pitch turned fuzzy and tilted, then dissolved entirely moments later, and Harry found himself back in Snape's office. It was just as out of focus as the pitch, and was also spinning in a rather nauseating fashion. Harry had to grab heavily onto the arms of his chair for support. Once everything had stopped swirling around him so aggressively, he saw Snape sliding a packet of biscuits and a glass of water across the desk to him.

 

“Here.” Snape gestured to the items. “That kind of magic is highly draining - the food will help.”

 

Harry picked up a biscuit and bit into it, only to realise that he was absolutely ravenous despite lunch being less than an hour ago. Once he’d scoffed about half the packet, Harry finally had it in him to speak again.

 

“Why’d my mindscape disappear?” he asked. “Did you take us out?”

 

Snape shook his head. “As I said, what you just did was incredibly exhausting. You didn’t have the mental or magical energy to sustain your Occlumency shields any longer."

 

“Oh.” Harry took another bite of his biscuit. “So how do I improve that?”

 

“Practice,” Snape said. “It’s rather like training a muscle - this takes time. We will repeat the exercise you just completed with other memories, and you will eventually find yourself able to maintain the mindscape under even the most stressful of circumstances.”

 

Harry wrinkled his nose. “So I have to go through more nasty memories?”

 

“Indeed. This is not a one and done exercise - you will need to practise.”

 

Harry sighed. “Alright.”

 

He couldn’t feel too put out about it, though. After all of that struggling, he was finally able to Occlude that memory of Aunt Petunia, after all. If he could manage that, Harry was sure he could deal with whatever else his mind had to throw at him.

 

“That will be all for today,” Snape announced. “And once again - congratulations.”

 

Harry couldn’t help his grin as he exited the man’s office. Everything seemed to be looking up. Not only was his Occlumency finally coming together, but he was also being released from his grounding after the Hogsmeade incident as of today. Harry was planning to spend the late afternoon in Gryffindor Tower with his friends after they arrived on the Hogwarts Express. It would be good to see Ron and Hermione again after the long Christmas break.

 

He walked into his bedroom and saw Draco waiting for him, a marked-up essay sitting in his lap.

 

“Took you long enough,” he complained. “I’ve been waiting ages to ask you about that Defence homework… and what are you so happy about, anyway?”

 

“I finally pushed Snape out of my bad memories,” Harry beamed.

 

“Oh. Well, I suppose for you that would be a success,” Draco said, lifting his nose up haughtily. “Of course, I managed that at the start of October…”

 

“Well bully for you,” Harry grumbled, some of the smile fading from his face. “Besides, I didn't even start lessons until December, you prat.”

 

“Git,” he shot back.

 

Still feeling too satisfied with himself to fight properly, Harry decided to steer the conversation to happier matters. “So, what’s your mindscape of?”

 

“A forest near Wiltshire,” Draco explained. “Lovely place. It’s full of magical creatures, and all sorts of gorgeous trees… I’ve not been there since the Manor burnt down, of course, but I always did enjoy spending time there. I’d love to go back someday…”

 

“I’d like to see that, I think,” Harry remarked. “It sounds nice.”

 

“Well… maybe you could do it now,” Draco said thoughtfully. “If Severus can use Legilimency to go into our heads, surely you could do that with me?”

 

Harry frowned. “I don’t know how to cast the spell, though…”

 

“Well, we know the incantation,” Draco pointed out. “Legilimens. It’s all about willpower, if I’m not wrong, so just focus really hard on trying to get into my mind, and it’ll happen."

 

“Okay…” 

 

Harry still wasn’t sure if he could pull this off, but he wasn’t opposed to giving it a go. Besides, he was feeling rather confident after that successful Occlumency lesson. How different could Legilimency be, anyway?

 

Harry got his wand out and lowered himself to the rug at the base of his bed, so he was sitting cross-legged in front of Draco. They were so close that their knees were touching.

 

“Ready, then?” Harry said.

 

“Go for it.” Draco smiled. “Maybe if this goes well, I could show you other memories - like some places in Malfoy Manor.”

 

“Sure.” Harry tried to look more enthusiastic than he actually felt. He wasn’t sure how interested he was in seeing a Dark Magic infested house, but knew it wouldn’t be wise to say something like that around Draco.

 

He took a deep breath and stared straight into Draco’s grey eyes. “Legilimens.”

 

It felt remarkably like the time Aunt Petunia had swung a frying pan at Harry’s head. There was a cacophonous clanging within his skull, accompanied by sharp pains that shot down the back of his neck and through his jawbone. Harry cried out from the agonising sensation, squeezed his eyes shut and clapped his hands over his ears to try and block out the sound, but it didn’t work. After all, the noise was coming from inside of his head. A few moments later it all quietened, but he was left with a sharp throbbing pain in his temples, like his brain was suddenly too big for his skull and was trying to shove its way out. Harry moved his hands from his ears to his eyes, which suddenly felt as though they would be popped from their sockets from the immense pressure inside of his head.

 

Harry suddenly realised he was now lying on the floor. The shaggy rug at the base of his bed was pressing up against his cheek, and his glasses were digging into the side of his head. Harry tried to open his eyes, then immediately shut them when the blinding light around him made the pain turn stabbing again.

 

Draco groaned loudly. “What did you do?!” 

 

“Shhh,” Harry mumbled. The volume of the other boy’s voice was hurting him badly.

 

That pain became worse as someone wrenched open his bedroom door and thudded across the floor like a thunderous giant. “What the devil are you two doing?!”

 

Harry and Draco both cried out in tandem at the sound of Snape’s painfully loud voice.

 

“Answer me!” Snape’s tone was low and dangerous. 

 

“Harry tried to Legilimise me so I could show him my mindscape, but it all went wrong,” Draco muttered.

 

“Well that was a stupid thing to do, wasn’t it?!” Snape snapped.

 

“Ow, ow, ow,” Harry said, clapping his hands over his ears again.

 

“What were you thinking, practising a spell like that unsupervised?” he ranted. “Most seventh years couldn’t even manage Legilimency, you idiot boys!” He grabbed Harry’s arm and hauled him so he was sitting upright, then pressed a vial into his hand. “Drink.”

 

Harry gagged slightly as he tried to choke down the foul-tasting potion, all while Snape continued to rant. “What on earth would possess you to do such a foolish thing? Yet again, you are both proving to me that you have no understanding of personal safety! The first thing you’re taught at Hogwarts is not to practise new spells unsupervised - I wasn’t aware that I was dealing with two eleven-year-olds, fresh off the Hogwarts Express!”

 

Harry finished drinking the potion and at last managed to open his eyes. Both light and sound still made his head ache horribly, but it wasn’t debilitating like it had been a minute ago. Unfortunately, he now had to look at the ill-tempered Snape while he continued to lecture.

 

“In fact, even eleven-year-olds display more caution than the two of you have! Draco, I know for a fact that you were taught not to experiment with magic by the age of five!” he seethed. “And Harry - after the conversations we’ve spent the last few weeks having about impulse control, I’d have expected better of you!” 

 

Draco cradled his head in his hands, face screwed up with pain. “Believe me, Severus, this headache is making me learn my lesson…”

 

“I should hope so,” Snape said severely, drawing himself up to his full height. “I also hope the two foot essay on Legilimency you’ll be submitting to me before Thursday will also drive that point home…”

 

Harry and Draco both groaned simultaneously.

 

“Don’t,” Snape said angrily. “I don’t want to hear any complaints. Now, the only thing for the headache is rest - a few hours in a dark room, and you’ll be back to normal. Do not do a thing like this again!”

 

He jabbed his wand at the ceiling, and the light in the room dimmed. Now, there was only the dim and murky lakelight casting strange, dancing shapes across the room. Snape flurried out a moment later, leaving Harry and Draco lying on the floor.

 

“I blame you,” Draco muttered.

 

Harry grabbed a slipper from under his bed and hurled it at him. “It was your idea, arsehole!”

 

“I’m sure I wouldn’t have screwed up the spell,” Draco drawled. “For someone who’s supposedly the saviour of the magical world, you are a staggeringly mediocre wizard…”

 

“Shut up,” Harry muttered. He got to his feet, crawled on top of his duvet and pressed a pillow over his head. “Go into your room, or be quiet.”

 

So, instead of spending the afternoon reuniting with his friends, Harry instead wasted the day lying in dead silence in a darkened room with Draco, trying and failing to take a nap until the worst of the headache receded. By the time Harry’s had faded to a slight tension lingering in his temples, it was almost five o’clock, and far too late to ask Snape to walk him up to Gryffindor Tower. Instead, Harry and Draco settled in the living room with a deck of Exploding Snap. Their irate guardian had locked himself away in his office.

 

“He really goes off on one when he hits his stride, doesn’t he?” Harry whispered, jerking his head in the direction of Snape’s door. “Bloody hell…”

 

“Two feet!” Draco said indignantly. “On something as dry as Legilimency, too… It wasn't like anything really bad happened! Merlin’s beard, sometimes I really wish Severus would just pull that stick out of his -”

 

Draco abruptly went quiet as Snape’s office door burst open. Harry cringed as a scowling Snape observed them, certain the man had overheard their griping…

 

But if he had, Snape didn’t comment. Instead, he simply gestured to the interior of his office. “Harry. A word?”

 

He slowly got to his feet and walked over to Snape, who stalked back inside of his office. To Harry’s shock, Ron and Hermione were standing together in front of Snape’s desk. Both of them looked slightly pale, although Ron’s ears had gone red in the way that let Harry know he was particularly annoyed about something.

 

A purse-lipped Snape gestured to Harry. “Miss Granger and Mr Weasley seem to require assurances that you have not been chained to a post within a dark, festering dungeon. Does this evidence satisfy you two, hmm?”

 

He shot a glare at Ron and Hermione, the latter of whom nodded vigorously. “Yes, sir.”

 

She sharply elbowed Ron, who looked like he was about to protest.

 

“Er… hi,” Harry said tentatively. “Happy New Year.”

 

“Hello,” Hermione said, shooting an anxious look over Harry’s shoulder to where Snape was still lingering, glowering at everyone with particular vim and vigour. Harry wondered if he was still annoyed over the Legilimency gone wrong, or if this was just Snape putting on his teacher front around students. 

 

“Hey, mate,” Ron said, equally as nervous. “So… you’re alright, then?”

 

“Yeah?” Harry frowned. “Why wouldn’t I be?”

 

Ron shot a suspicious look in Snape’s direction. He let out a loud, audible sigh. “Harry, feel free to continue this conversation in the living room. I have work to do.”

 

“They’re allowed inside?” Harry said disbelievingly.

 

“Yes. You do live here, after all.” Snape pointed a finger towards the interior door of his office, which led into his quarters. “You have one hour - I’d rather not spend my last evening of rest minding students. Do not interrupt me unless there is threat to life or limb.”

 

“Er… okay. Follow me, then,” Harry said to Ron and Hermione, feeling remarkably unsure of himself. Ron looked like he’d rather eat nails than enter Snape’s living quarters, but a sharp look from Hermione seemed to spur him on. The moment they crossed the threshold, Snape immediately shut the door to his office. Ron stood with his jaw slack, staring around in the same way Harry imagined he had when he’d discovered Snape didn’t live in a dark, damp cave. Harry opened his mouth to speak to his friends, but instead found himself getting a mouthful of bushy brown hair as Hermione flung her arms around him.

 

“Hermione! You’re strangling me!” Harry gasped.

 

“We were so worried!” she said, pulling back to look him over carefully. 

 

“Why?” Harry asked, nonplussed.

 

“What do you mean, ‘why’?” Ron said, crossing his arms. “The last time we saw you, Harry, you were tearing out of the Three Broomsticks after what the Minister said about Black!”

 

Harry started at the throwback to such an unpleasant memory. It felt like it had been such a long time since the events of Hogsmeade had transpired… of course, Ron and Hermione wouldn’t know anything that had transpired since. 

 

“Then, next thing we know, we came to check on you here the morning after and Snape almost bit our heads off!” Ron said indignantly.

 

“Oh. Right.” Harry winced. “Yeah, he wasn’t in the best of moods that day, since he caught me on the way back from Hogsmeade - don’t say ‘I told you so’, Hermione.”

 

“I wasn’t going to,” she said sniffily. “I just wanted to say - well, we both wanted to say that you shouldn’t go and do something stupid.”

 

“Like what?”

 

“Like go after Black,” Ron said firmly. “You won't, right?”

 

“You mustn’t,” Hermione added insistently. “Because Black isn’t worth dying for.”

 

Harry had quickly started to realise that they must have rehearsed this conversation on the train. He pulled a face, but before he could come up with a response, a drawling voice came from the direction of the bedrooms. “Don’t bother, you two. Professor Snape and myself have already talked Harry out of anything foolish…”

 

Harry turned around and saw Draco sauntering into the living room, a novel tucked under his arm. In the time it had taken for Harry to welcome his friends into the dungeons, Draco had somehow managed to shake off the frazzled look of someone who had spent the afternoon recovering from a spell-induced migraine and was perfectly put together. Harry, who never could work out how the poncey git managed it, scowled to himself.

 

“Malfoy?” Ron said sharply. “What are you doing here?”

 

“I live here, Weasley?” Draco shot Ron a withering look, which the other boy promptly returned. Harry, who didn’t want all of the newly-forming goodwill between Draco and his friends from Christmas to disappear in one tense conversation, hastily tried to come up with a redirection.

 

“Why don’t we all sit down? All of us,” he said, looking closely at Draco. “We would love for you to join us, wouldn’t we?”

 

Hermione hesitated for a moment, then a look of resolution crossed her face. It was the same expression Hermione always got when she made her mind up about something, and wouldn’t be dissuaded in any way. As the four of them walked over to the sofa in awkward silence, she was the first one to speak.

 

 “I had been meaning to ask you about the Arithmancy problems Professor Vector set, Malfoy,” Hermione said hesitantly. “Now, I know she said we’re supposed to use Brocker’s method for the last problem, but I’ve been reading ahead a little, and I feel like Yeoman’s would be far more applicable…”

 

Harry stared at her, feeling like he was missing something. Hermione, asking for help with homework? He’d never seen her do that before, particularly from the likes of Draco… perhaps this was her way of making conversation.

 

Draco nodded slowly. He seemed completely shocked that Hermione had addressed him at all. “Yes, I saw that ahead in the textbook. I think, given the context, we could use it, but you might want to check with the professor.”

 

“Oh, I’ve already done it both ways,” Hermione said with a shrug. "I was just wondering what you thought."

 

“Both?” Draco said incredulously. “Merlin’s beard, how much time do you have on your hands?”

 

“Do you have any clue what they’re talking about?” Ron whispered, leaning over to Harry.

 

Harry shrugged. “Living here means you get pretty used to people talking about things you can’t really understand. You should hear the conversations he and Severus have…”

 

“Severus?!” Ron said in a scandalised voice. He looked as if he was sucking on a lemon.

 

“It’s not that weird!” Harry protested, gently elbowing Ron in the side. “He is my guardian, you know. He thought it would make more sense for me to stop saying ‘professor’ all the time.”

 

For some reason, Ron still looked rather put out about something. “Look, mate - is there somewhere in here I can talk to you? Privately?” 

 

He shot a pointed look at Draco, who was now deeply focused on the unintelligible Arithmancy conversation he was having with Hermione.

 

Harry sighed, wondering what Ron had a problem with now. “Follow me. We can talk in my room.” 

 

He led Ron out of the living room and into the bedroom, where he shut the door and faced his friend. “Yeah?”

 

Ron shuffled his feet. “I know I promised to leave it, and I really will, but - well, every time I’ve seen Snape recently, he’s been in a rotten mood. Are you sure you’re alright with him?”

 

Harry groaned loudly. “Yes! Bloody hell, Ron!”

 

“I just get -”

 

“Worried. I know.” Harry looked closely at Ron. “You really don’t have to be.”

 

“You didn’t see him on the last day of term, okay?!” Ron snapped. “Hermione and I came to see how you were, and he wouldn’t even let us see you! All Snape would say is that ‘Potter can survive two weeks without his little fan club’, and then he slammed the door in our faces! For all I knew, he’d chopped you up for Potions ingredients!” 

 

“Oh.” Harry frowned as he mulled Ron’s words over. He remembered Snape saying on the first day of the Christmas holidays that he’d reassured Harry’s friends that Harry was alright… perhaps he’d not actually been as reassuring as he’d implied.

 

“You just keep catching him on bad days,” Harry said eventually. “He was super, super annoyed over the Hogsmeade stuff in December, and today me and Draco annoyed him because we were practising magic behind his back.”

 

Ron pulled a face. “Yeah, that would do it. Fred and George tried to Transfigure Percy into a canary over the holidays, and Mum almost screamed the house down..."

 

Harry snorted. “See? He’s just a normal guardian.”

 

“Alright…” Harry could tell that Ron was staying quiet so he didn’t start a row, but his face was still lined with the clear signs of residual worry.

 

“If there was really a problem, I’ll tell you,” Harry insisted. “You’ve just seen a lot of bad sides to him - Severus isn’t bad to be around, normally. He was practically fluffy around Christmas, actually…”

 

Ron, who appeared to be struggling with the act of reconciling Snape with the word ‘fluffy’, stared at Harry with his mouth agape.

 

“Maybe don’t tell him I said that,” Harry added after a moment. He couldn’t imagine Snape would enjoy such a blow to his stern image. “But if I need you to fly a Ford Anglia through my window, I’ll tell you.”

 

That got Ron to smile a little - he looked around Harry’s bedroom with an expression of interest. “It’s a bit empty in here, considering it’s your bedroom and all! Why haven’t you decorated?”

 

“Er…” Harry faltered, and realised that he wasn’t actually all that sure why he hadn’t. “Dunno.”

 

“Does Snape get weird about it, or -”

 

“No,” Harry said quickly. “Draco’s got a bunch of decorations up in his room, so…”

 

“At least stick a poster up in here or something!” Ron said, gesturing to a blank space on the wall. “Maybe it’ll feel less like a dungeon with a nice Chudley Cannons poster on the wall.”

 

Harry snorted. “You’re not gonna stop until my room’s as orange as yours, are you?”

 

“Of course not.” Ron grinned. 

 

Harry smiled back, but his eyes were fixed on his trunk. He’d been living with all of his stuff safely secured in there, like he had been at Spinner’s End and like he always did at his relatives’. Harry’s smile quickly turned to a grimace as he made the connection for just why he was doing that. He’d never dare to put up anything relating to his life in Dudley’s second bedroom, after all; for one thing, it wasn’t Harry’s room in the first place, and for another, the Dursleys would rather not have any signs of Harry’s continued existence in their house.

 

As Harry continued to take in the bare expanse of what he called a bedroom, he felt strangely overwhelmed. He knew that Snape wouldn’t be bothered about Harry decorating - he’d probably be rather pleased, as a matter of fact - but Harry didn’t even have the faintest clue where to start with something like that…

 

Ron nudged his shoulder. “You alright, mate? You look lost in your own world, there.”

 

Harry fiercely shook himself. “Yeah, I’m fine. Don’t worry. Er - I couldn’t take you up on that Cannons poster offer, could I?”

 

“I’ll lend you my spare,” Ron promised. “It’s a bit ripped in the corner, but if you stick it on right it’ll look fine.”

 

“Thanks,” Harry said gratefully. 

 

Ron looked like was going to respond, but both of them fell silent at the sound of gradually climbing voices in the clear midst of a growing argument.

 

“We should probably make sure they haven’t killed each other,” Ron said, making a beeline for the door.

 

“Draco wouldn’t do anything!” Harry protested.

 

“I’m more worried about what Hermione might do to him, actually,” Ron said, pausing in place and raising an eyebrow. “All those extra classes are driving her barmy - you should have seen her on the train earlier! Any time I interrupted her homework, she practically attacked me!”

 

“I really think she needs to cut down.” Harry dropped his voice to a whisper as they exited his room.

 

“Agreed - but there’s no telling her that…”

 

As Harry and Ron made their way into the living room, he couldn’t help but be shocked by the sight he saw before him. Harry wasn’t sure what he’d been expecting - either Draco to have called Hermione a nasty name, or for Hermione to have somehow rubbed Draco the wrong way with one of her all-knowing comments.

 

Whatever he’d been expecting, it certainly hadn’t been Hermione and Draco shouting over a bunch of floating numbers.

 

“For heaven’s sake, Malfoy, it’s basic mathematics!” Hermione said furiously, gesturing to a floating triangle. “You’re supposed to use Pythagoras for polygonic Arithmancy, or all you’re doing is messing about with numbers with no magical properties!”

 

“And I’m saying that you need to find out the square root of each of the sides before you can start calculating anything with Pythagoras’ theorem!” Draco said, eyes flashing. “You’ve read Numerology and Grammatica, I would assume? Your shoddy calculations would suggest otherwise!”

 

“You wouldn’t know mathematics if it hit you over the head with a -”

 

“STOP!” Harry shouted, and both Draco and Hermione fell silent. Both of them clearly hadn’t realised that he and Ron had re-entered the room. “Am I being completely stupid, or are you guys arguing about maths?!  Bloody hell!"

 

“It’s more than maths,” Hermione said haughtily. “For someone who has a firm grasp on Arithmantic technique, I cannot possibly understand how Malfoy’s coming to the conclusions he is…”

 

“Because it’s all up for debate, Granger!” Draco said furiously. “Merlin and Morgana, even Bridget Wenlock herself couldn’t work all of this out before she died!”

 

“Well, I suppose you’ll just have to work harder to persuade me to your side,” Hermione said, jutting her chin out. “If you can somehow manage to formulate anything close to an argument, let me know.”

 

“Oh, I will,” Draco muttered, flicking his wrist so that the floating numbers in the air crumpled into dust. Harry looked in between him and Hermione with his forehead wrinkled, having scarcely understood even five percent of the conversation he’d just witnessed. Still, he somehow felt that Draco and Hermione had come to an agreement over something… about homework, of course, but what else could you expect with Hermione involved?

 

“Would the two of you mind talking about something we can actually understand?” Ron complained. “Say, did the two of you catch the Quidditch World Cup qualifying games?”

 

“Of course!” Draco’s eyes gleamed, and he leaned forwards slightly. Hermione audibly sighed, muttered something that sounded an awful lot like ‘boys’, then buried her head in one of the Arithmancy books she and Draco had been bickering over.

 

---

 

In the end, Hermione and Draco’s argument was not the sole one of the night - Harry’s friends all got into no less than five rows, ranging in topic from Quidditch teams to whether or not Muggles or wizards discovered chocolate. Harry was exhausted when dinnertime came around and it was time to send his friends away, but despite all that, he still felt quite determined to continue his campaign for Draco to get on with Ron and Hermione. After all, Harry fought furiously with Draco on any given occasion, but still considered the other boy to be as close as a brother. Draco, as a rule, was just a generally abrasive and argumentative person, and Harry didn’t think he was one to talk when he bickered with Draco like it was an Olympic sport. 

 

Perhaps Harry could invite Ron and Hermione back for a game of Monopoly some time. He grinned at the prospect.

 

As he said his goodbyes to his friends in the corridor, the snake portrait guarding the entrance made a noise of disgust. “Look at you, letting more students weave in and out of this place! Has no one ever taught you the concept of security, young man? You’re practically making me redundant! We might as well open the Housemaster’s doors to the entire school!”

 

“Oh, stuff it, you,” Harry said irritably. “It would do us all a fat lot of good if you did go out of commission, anyway…”

 

“I beg your pardon?” The highly affronted snake spat. Its ruffle flared, and its fangs were exposed. “You know, I am growing very sick of your constant insolence!”

 

“Cope.” Harry rolled his eyes.

 

“Harry, please stop riling up the portrait,” Snape said from behind. 

 

Harry jumped. “Oh. Er, hi, sir.”

 

“Severus,” he corrected lightly. Snape looked between Harry and the portrait, and arched an eyebrow. “Is this why Asclepius has taken to entering the twin portrait in my bedroom and hissing endlessly, an event that always seems to coincide with you either entering or exiting my quarters?” 

 

Harry winced. He hadn’t realised the snake had been doing that… or even that the snake had a name. He was too busy arguing with it to make polite conversation.

 

“I suppose I ought to take that as a yes,” Snape said with a shake of his head. He headed through the doorway, Harry following, and the portrait slid shut. “What are you saying to get him into such a state?”

 

“Nothing,” Harry lied. “He just really has a problem with me…”

 

“Clearly.” Snape stopped walking and looked at him closely. “Well, at least you seem to be better acquainting yourself with your Parseltongue powers. I still recall the shocked look on your face after the events of the Duelling Club last year…”

 

Harry gave Snape a disapproving look - he was conveniently not mentioning how he’d given Draco the spell to conjure up that very snake! Still, for the sake of maintaining the peace, Harry didn’t argue the point.

 

“I didn’t even know what I was doing was Parseltongue until the Duelling Club, actually,” Harry said, flopping back onto the sofa. “Well, I suppose I did know, but I just thought it was something all wizards could do. I’d spoken to snakes a couple times before - there was a python in a zoo that I set on my cousin, actually…”

 

Draco looked up from his book and snorted. “I’d have killed to see that.”

 

“Well, if you do care to speak with Asclepius again, could you inform him to stop awakening me every time the Bloody Baron floats past?” Snape asked. “He’s supposed to alert me to errant students wandering the halls, not ghosts.”

 

“Sure,” Harry said, even though he doubted that the snake would ever listen to anything he had to say, even if it came directly from Snape.

 

“Did you enjoy the visit with your friends, then?” Snape asked, sitting down next to Harry.

 

“Yeah,” he said, “but I was a bit surprised you let them in here.”

 

“As I said, this is your home, too,” Snape reminded him. “If you must stay here instead of in Gryffindor Tower, it occurred to me that you might prefer to spend more time with your friends… and perhaps I am holding out hope that Granger and Weasley will stop their continued conspiracies about my mistreatment of you if they can view your living situation for themselves.”

 

“Right.” Harry frowned at him. “You know, it might help if you don’t have a go at them every time they’re near you - Ron told me what you said to them on the last day of term! I thought you said you’d reassured them I was fine or something!”

 

“As Weasley and Granger had decided to aid your Hogsmeade escapades, I wasn’t exactly pleased with them, either,” Snape said icily.

 

“They weren’t aiding me!” Harry said indignantly. “I went by myself, and it’s not like they were going to grass me up once I got there.”

 

“So your friends should instead act as useless bystanders to your dangerous behaviour,” Snape said, face darkening into a scowl. “I’m sure you can imagine how pleased I am at that prospect…”

 

Harry sat back and sighed, since he knew he and Snape were never going to agree here. Harry still was quite unhappy about the Hogsmeade ban, even though he’d never dare venture into the village without permission again after everything.

 

“Are you really going to allow Granger and Weasley in and out of here all the time, Severus?” Draco said, giving the both of them a disgusted look. “Merlin help me…”

 

“Perhaps the socialisation will do you good,” Snape said, shooting him a pointed look. “You ought to spend more time with other people your age.”

 

“Other people my age hate me,” Draco muttered. “I don’t want to deal with those two!” 

 

“You seemed to enjoy the Gryffindors’ company earlier,” Snape said, raising an eyebrow. “I overheard much of your impassioned debate with Granger…”

 

“Just because she’s the only person in my Arithmancy lessons on my intellectual level doesn’t mean I actually enjoy her company,” Draco said loftily.

 

Harry tried to hide his smile behind his hands. Even though Draco was still sort of insulting Hermione, he had just admitted they were on the same intellectual level. The boy from the previous year would have never done that…

 

“If Granger and Weasley visit here again, you will sit out here and socialise with them,” Snape said in a tone of finality. 

 

“They hate me!” Draco protested.

 

“They sent you a Christmas present,” Harry pointed out. "Why would they do that if they still hated you?"

 

“Well - don’t you want to see them alone, Harry?” Draco asked, slight desperation tingeing his tone. “Surely it’s not fair to make Harry share his friends, Severus…”

 

“Actually, I quite like the idea of all my friends getting along, thanks,” Harry shot back.

 

Draco groaned very loudly and sank back in his seat. Harry didn’t even bother to hide his grin this time - even Snape was backing up this plan, now! He felt very pleased - everything seemed to be looking up for Harry.

 

It wasn’t a feeling destined to last long.