Sunday, Sep.1

The rest of the students should be arriving in a few hours, but I'm not going to the Welcoming Feast. It'd be nice to see the newest first years, and make bets with Ron on who'll get sorted where, but that would also mean being surrounded by people and asked a bunch of questions I don't want to answer (like, "How was your summer?") and having to look across the hall at Malfoy and his cronies and try not to scream at them all.

So I told Snape I would give it a miss, and he said he had assumed that would be the case, but he was required to attend, and he asked if I would be all right alone. I told him yeah, sure, ‘cause nothing's likely to come after me in his, I mean our rooms, unless it's Dumbledore. He got all quiet then, and I did, too, and then I said I was sorry, even though I wasn't really, and he nodded, like he understood what I meant.

Ron and I went flying yesterday after we visited for a while. Hermione came along to watch our backs, so Snape wouldn't have to, even though he offered. Even though the offer made Ron look a bit green. I know Ron's still probably in shock about everything, and I know he'll blow up at me at some point, and wonder what the hell I'm thinking to be living with Snape, but if that argument can wait a few more days, it'd be cool.

After supper last night, we all went to visit Remus (although now he's Professor Lupin again, or will be in a couple hours), so Snape could get some last minute potions stuff done for class. Remus didn't seem to need the extra time to get ready - although he's not had a messed up teenager to deal with all summer, like Snape has, so he hasn't fallen behind like Snape. We stayed until almost 11, which I guess is my official curfew, though the last hour or so I fidgeted so much that Remus asked me a couple times what was wrong. I said, "nothing," but I couldn't help but remember the last time I visited Remus, and then came home to find Snape had been poisoned.

This time, Snape was fine. He even sneered at me when I rushed in, calling for him and asking how he was. He hasn't sneered in so long, it was good to see.

This morning he told me he has a meeting with Dumbledore about something that might help me with attending classes. I'd already suggested last week - and only half joking - that I might use my Dad's cloak, and just sit in the back row all quiet like, so no one would know I was there. He said he had an idea that might be a bit easier on my nerves, but he would have to wait till Dumbledore approved it.

I hope it works, whatever it is. I don't want to fall behind in my classes, but I'm really not ready to deal with Malfoy and them. . . . especially after what happened last week at the Ministry.

---

"Ready to test it out?" Snape asked.

Harry was on the settee, Transfiguration textbook perched on his lap. He had hoped to get a better grasp of the concepts they were due to cover in the first couple weeks of class, but the reading was slow going. He had just gotten his own set of Sixth Year textbooks by Owl order a couple days ago - he'd used some old ones of Snape's before then - and had decided to go through them all to prepare as best he could for class. The question of whether he could actually make himself attend class was still up in the air.

Or maybe not. "Yeah, all right."

Snape lifted an eyebrow in his general direction, and Harry grinned. "Sorry. Yes, sir. I would be most pleased to test out this wondrous system you've designed."

"Excellent," Snape drawled. "Now, each of your professors will be given a specific incantation to say when your class begins, which will release the spell from stasis, until they repeat the incantation at the end of class. When the spell is active, you will be able to see into the classroom, but only the professor will be able to see you or hear you . . . and only if they are looking precisely at the place where the spell is set. Clear so far?"

Harry nodded. "Yes, sir."

Snape nodded. "All right. I will go to my classroom, and release the spell from stasis. You will sit there," he said, pointing at the table where they ate many of their meals, "as that is where the spell is aimed in our quarters. Questions?"

"No, sir."

"Good." Snape left, and Harry moved to the table, taking his Transfiguration textbook with him. Less than ten minutes later, he heard his name called, and he looked up. In the center of a misty sort of bubble which hovered a few feet in front of him, he could see Snape quite clearly at the front of his classroom. "Obviously you can hear me," the professor said. "Are you able to see me as well?"

"Yeah, it's great," Harry said. He wondered how fine tuned the spell was. "Can I hear you even when you aren't staring at me?"

"You should be able to, though it will not work in the reverse," Snape said, even as he turned to his board and started writing the steps for a simple Shrinking Solution. "Does it work?"

"Perfectly." Snape didn't turn around or say anything else, and Harry recalled that the professors wouldn't be able to hear Harry unless they were looking right at him, so he waited till Snape finished writing and had turned back around before repeating, "Works perfectly."

Snape smirked. "I thought it might."

"You thought right."

"I'm putting the spell back in stasis now," Snape said. "But I have a few more things I need to set up for the dunderheads who will grace my presence tomorrow. Will you be all right for a few hours?"

"Yes, sir. I'm fine."

"I doubt I will return before the Feast. Make sure you have dinner. I don't want to hear otherwise from the House Elves."

Harry gave him an odd look. Would Snape really ask the House Elves if he ate? Weird. But Snape was obviously waiting for his response, so he said, "I will. Don't worry."

Snape's response was merely a raised eyebrow, as if to say, he could not do anything except worry. For Harry, it was a weird feeling altogether, to have someone - an adult, specifically - worried about him, worried that he wasn't eating enough or getting enough sleep, or that he wasn't comfortable around other people. A weird feeling, but kind of nice, too.

"After the Feast, I will need to meet with my Slytherins, Harry. I hope to be back before midnight, but you should not expect me before then."

"No rest for the wicked, eh?"

A glint of humor showed in Snape's eyes. "Indeed." With a wave of his wand, and a few murmured syllables, the bubble disappeared and he was gone.

Harry puttered around for a bit, making sure - for about the tenth time - that he had everything he needed for his classes, down to quills and ink, since he'd had to get so much new after the Death Eaters took all his stuff. Of all his school things, and possessions, the only thing he really missed was the Marauders Map. It would have been very helpful . . . for avoiding people.

Oh, he knew he couldn't avoid people forever, and he felt a right idiot about it even now. But Snape had said - in one of their recent Tea Chats - that he didn't need to worry about such things. When he was ready, he would want to be in the company of others, and before then, he was allowed to be alone - or with a few select others - for as long as he needed. It was still very soon after the mess at Topsham, Snape said, and Harry was recovering more quickly than anyone could have hoped.

That had made him feel a bit better about hiding himself away. Especially when Hermione had echoed the professor's words last night, saying she was surprised he was dealing so well with everything that had happened. He hadn't wanted to talk about it at all, but Hermione said that was okay, too, and had not tried to hug him either, for which he was grateful.

For the next few hours after the test, Harry read, then ordered up dinner from the House Elves as he'd been told, then read some more. He would have liked to get in another ride on his Firebolt, but knew that Ron and Hermione were spending some . . . quality time together before the Feast, and afterwards, they would be too busy with Prefect duties. He didn't expect to see them tonight, or even tomorrow, probably.

Thus, the knock on the outer door around 7pm was rather startling.

Frowning, Harry put his book down, with a place marker in it, and rose to answer the door, wondering who it could be. Everyone should be at the Welcoming Feast now. He drew his wand, taking some comfort from the warm feel of it in his hand, and then opened the door.

Draco Malfoy stood on the other side.

A cold rage swept through Harry, and his hand came up, to point his wand at the other boy's chest, without him even consciously thinking about it.

Draco didn't move, and his hands were empty, but it still took everything Harry had to keep his wand hand steady. "Potter," Draco said. He didn't even sneer as he said it.

Harry's teeth were clenched, and he had to loosen his jaw before he could speak. "What do you want, Malfoy?"

For the first time ever, in Harry's experience, Draco Malfoy looked . . . uncertain. But even as Malfoy opened his mouth and then closed it twice, as if searching for words, his cool gray gaze held steady. "To see you. To talk."

"I don't have anything to say to you," Harry growled. "Nothing!"

Draco nodded slightly. "I know, but-"

"If you know, why don't you get out of here?" Harry's hand started to shake, and he wished he could blame it on after effects of the Cruciatus, but that was weeks ago. He gripped his wand tighter, held it higher, so it pointed at Malfoy's face, but Malfoy didn't flinch. "Did you come to gloat? To laugh at me like your Auntie Bella? Or maybe you want to see what I looked like after your father's lovely tortures?"

If possible, Malfoy paled further, his almost white skin turning a sickly gray. "No." He swallowed hard enough Harry could see his Adam's apple bob. "No, I didn't. You made my father a Squib."

Harry lifted his chin. "Yeah, I did." He wasn't sorry either, not really, but he didn't think he needed to say that.

Malfoy nodded, and set his own jaw. "Well I just wanted to tell you that he . . . he deserved it. No one," he paused and took a slow breath. "No one should have happen what they did to you, all right? It makes me sick just thinking about it. He deserved to lose his magic."

Feeling like he'd been sucker punched, Harry stared at Malfoy. What the hell? Was he serious? It seemed so, but Harry was so confused he wouldn't be able to tell at this point. He had expected gloating. He expected laughter and jeers, like Bellatrix had done. He had not expected this.

"Will you be at classes tomorrow?"

Harry shook his head, still reeling.

"Right." Malfoy gave him a tight nod. "Well, I'll see you around." He turned and started back down the hall.

Watching him walk away, Harry's mind spun with all the implications of what Malfoy had just said. Did his acceptance of his father being a Squib mean anything more than that? Was he equally as angry - or sickened - by what Voldemort had done? Would he turn away from all that now? Or was it just his own father's actions that horrified him? In a split second, Harry decided he didn't really care about all that, at least not now.

"Malfoy," he called before the blond disappeared around the corner. When the other boy stopped and turned to look at him, Harry kept his face carefully blank of any emotion, matching Malfoy's expression, actually. He stared at the young Slytherin for a long moment.

Draco was not his father.

No more than Harry was James.

Snape had been able to get over his prejudice towards Harry, though it had taken something awful like the events at Topsham to make that happen. Was there any reason Harry should treat Malfoy like his father, if Draco was honestly making a break from the man? He couldn't imagine ever being friends with Malfoy -- there was too much history between them -- but the least Harry could do was not tar him with the brush he used on Death Eaters. If Malfoy was sincere - and he certainly seemed to be - then Harry owed him the benefit of the doubt.

Down the hall, Draco lifted an eyebrow impatiently, in a display so Snapish that Harry was immediately irrationally jealous. Maybe Eyebrow Moves was a special lesson they taught in Slytherin. Shaking his head slightly to clear his thoughts, he said, "Thanks . . . Draco. I'll, uh, I'll see you around."

The other boy's eyes widened, but then he gave an almost smile and nodded before he continued on his way.

---

Harry went to bed before Snape got home, though he tossed and turned without sleeping until he heard the outer door open and close quietly. A softly cast Tempus showed the time as 12:45am. Harry slipped out of bed, donned a bathrobe and pair of slippers, and padded out into the sitting room.

Snape was removing his heavy teaching robes, and hanging them on a coat rack by the door. He glanced over his shoulder as Harry entered the room. "Can't sleep?"

Harry shook his head.

"Do you want some tea?"

"No thanks," Harry said quietly as he curled into a corner of the settee. He wanted to keep this as casual as possible. "How was dinner?"

"As exciting as ever," Snape told him and sat down in the chair closest to the fire. "As you might have guessed."

"Is the Forbidden Forest still forbidden?"

Snape snorted softly. "It is, and amazingly, all Weasley Wizarding products are still banned."

Harry screwed up his face into his best bitterly disappointed look. "Aww, that rots!"

"Indeed." Snape passed a hand over his face. He looked very tired, and Harry was immediately sorry that he was keeping the man up. "Was there anything particular you wanted to discuss?"

Harry bit his lip, and almost said no, but he figured Snape would want to know about Malfoy. "Draco Malfoy stopped by, during dinner."

Snape went very still. "Did he."

With a nod, Harry said, "He wanted to tell me he thinks his father got what he deserved. Being made a Squib, that is."

"I see."

"Do you? ‘Cause I sure don't. He kind of freaked me out."

"I imagine." Snape rubbed at his face again. "Did he say anything else?"

"What, like about wanting to join the side of right and good and forswearing the Dark Lord forever?" Harry smiled a bit at Snape's glower. "No. But he did say he was sickened by what his father did to me."

Snape nodded slowly. "Well, that's something," he said in a soft tone, his gaze on his hands, which were pressed together in front of his chest.

"Did he act weird at dinner?" Harry asked.

"Nothing unusual, which, given the circumstances of the last week or so, is unusual in itself."

"Yeah." Harry stood. "Sorry for keeping you up, but I just figured you'd want to know."

"Thank you, Harry. We'll keep a close eye on him, regardless." Snape made no move to stand. His dark gaze was sharp, and pinned Harry before he could move away. "Are you ready for tomorrow?"

"Sure. Quills, parchment, books, potion stuff. I'm good to go."

"That's not what I meant."

"I know." Harry held the man's gaze for another few moments. Was he ready? His concentration was still shot half the time, although sparring and dueling each day helped - and Snape said they'd still be doing that, though perhaps not for as long, or not on the same set schedule, due to classes. And he still had horrific nightmares, unless he took Dreamless Sleep, which he did only sparingly, so as not to become addicted. But he was doing far better now than he had been a few weeks ago, and he hadn't hexed Draco into oblivion, had he? That had to count for something.

Finally, he sighed and ran a hand through his hair. "Yeah. I think I am."

Snape, still holding his gaze, nodded slightly. "Yes. I believe you are, too."

Harry smiled at him. "And it's all your fault."

With a tiny smile, Snape said, "Go to bed, brat. You have potions first thing in the morning. I'll not have you snoring in my class."

"But you won't even hear me!"

"But I'll know."

"You kind of always do, don't you."

"Of course," Snape said, and pushed himself out of the chair.

"No ego problem there." Harry grinned as he headed to his bedroom. "But seriously. Thanks. For everything, I mean."

"Bed. Now." The words were sharp, but Harry heard the tone beneath them, one that was caring, and almost fond. And then, as he was shutting his bedroom door, he heard, "Sleep well, Harry."

And so he did.