1997

“Harry, your indignation is not the most important issue at the moment,” Severus said quietly as he flicked his wand to put the tumbled Prophet pages back in order. “Ginny and her family will undoubtedly be extremely distressed by this article.”

“But it’s ridiculous! No one will believe it.”

“Just as no one believed that you lied about Voldemort? Or that I was attempting to bring you to him in October. Or that your mother was-”

“All right.” Harry closed his eyes and let his head thunk against the tabletop. He threaded his fingers together and pressed them against the back of his neck as he forced himself to calm down. “It wasn’t supposed to be like this,” he finally mumbled. He lifted his head when his father didn’t answer. “Voldemort’s gone,” Harry said, even as he cringed at the plaintive note in his voice. “I was supposed to be able to just have a normal life.”

Severus’ lips quirked, though Harry didn’t understand why. “Harry, the article in the Prophet aside, there is nothing particularly abnormal in this situation.”

“Nothing abnormal!”

“A thoroughly unpleasant situation, yes, but one which is not unheard of, I assure you.”

Harry stared at his dad for a moment. “You’re thinking of mum?” he finally realized.

“Yes.” Severus held out his hand for Levi, who was watching Harry suspiciously; The kylaria stepped into Severus’ hand, relaxing a little as Severus stroked his neck. “I was your mother’s friend for six years.”

Six years.

Well, that was certainly the worst possibility that Harry had heard all morning. “I don’t want to be Ginny’s friend.” He shook his head as he watched Levi eyeing him. He held out his palm, giving the kylaria an encouraging smile. His eyes wary, Levi hopped onto his hand. “I can’t just sit here and wait,” Harry said as he slid his finger under Levi’s chin. “I can’t do nothing.”

“If you wish to speak to Ginny, I will Apparate you to her house after your practice,” his father said. “I do suggest, however, that you make certain your temper will not interfere with a rational conversation.”

Harry didn’t respond. He didn’t want to have a rational conversation. “Maybe I should visit the Prophet,” he finally muttered. Someone should get the brunt of this anger.

“Arthur and Molly will no doubt take care of it.” Harry opened his mouth to protest but Severus shook his head. “You are not visiting The Daily Prophet offices, Harry.”

Harry scowled at the table, and Severus sighed.

“Anything you say to anyone on the staff will be twisted to suit their own needs. It will not matter that you are defending Ginny.”

Even though he knew his father was right, it still rankled. “Should I… write her a letter then?” he asked as he looked up. “To make sure she’s all right?”

Severus considered him. “That may be the best course, as she did ask for space…”

Severus left Harry alone to write a letter that was even more difficult than the one he’d written while she’d been in Romania. He used an Erasing Spell four times before settling on: I just wanted to make sure you were all right; I didn’t believe any of the lies in the Prophet this morning. I’m beginning practices with the Cannons this morning—I will be practicing with them all summer. I’m not sure if it means much, but at least it gives me something to do. He added I miss you, after that. He debated over the farewell and couldn’t stand not to sign it love, Harry, so he did.

Feeling even worse than he had when he first read the article, Harry took a detour with his father to the Owlery before they went to the Cannons’ pitch.

“Once we go to the cottage, we can begin Apparating lessons, if you wish,” Severus said as Harry straightened his shirt. “You will be able to apply for your license at the end of next month.”

“Sure,” Harry answered without much enthusiasm.

“Harry!”

Oliver was waving from high above the pitch. Harry waved back and the rest of the team called out greetings. Styles, the team’s captain, swooped down and hopped off his broom; August was right behind him.

“Glad you decided to join us,” Styles said with a grin. “Hello again, Professor Snape.”

After greeting both Styles and August, Severus said to Harry, “I will return for you at one o’clock.”

“I can bring him back to Hogwarts, sir,” August offered. “I wanted to visit the book shop in Hogsmeade.”

Harry shrugged at his father’s questioning look, and Severus nodded. “I will see you this afternoon then. Enjoy yourself,” he said pointedly before Disapparating.

“Bit intense, isn’t he?” Styles said.

Despite himself, Harry smiled. “Sometimes, yeah.”

“Harry’s girlfriend broke it off,” August explained.

“I saw it in the paper this morning… bad luck, mate,” Styles said with a sympathetic clap to Harry’s back. He gripped Harry’s shoulder, twisted him to the side a little bit and pointed into the stands, where two women were watching. “That’s my wife there, the brunette. And her sister. Lovely, isn’t she? She’s a few years older than you, but if you’re interested…”

“Er…”

“Leave him alone, Styles,” August said, thumping the captain’s chest. “Snape will tear you to pieces if you start setting him up with twenty year olds.”

“True; didn’t think about that,” Styles mused as he shrugged. “Well, keep your chin up, Harry. Loads of fish in the sea and all that rot.” He made a face and bellowed into the sky, “Wood, get your head out of your arse! That Bludger nearly knocked your block off!”

“Come on, Harry,” August said with a grin for Harry’s wince. “Some hard exercise will take your mind off Ginny.”

But even four hours later, when Harry was sweaty and panting with exertion from the drills Styles put them through, he couldn’t stop thinking about Ginny. Mostly about how people would be offering to set her up on dates with random blokes…

“Best not to think about it,” Oliver advised, handing Harry some water as they sat in varying positions of rest along the bottom row of bleachers. “You’ll only drive yourself mad trying to figure out who she was snogging.”

Harry swallowed his water too quickly; he coughed a few times before he could speak. “She didn’t snog anyone,” he finally managed. “That whole article was a lie.”

Oliver’s brows furrowed. “Well, it wouldn’t be the first time the Prophet has written lies about you,” he said, surprising Harry.

“You can’t really be certain though, can you?” William Harding, the soon to be retired Seeker, asked doubtfully.

“I’m certain,” Harry said firmly. “Ginny wouldn’t do that.”

Harding pursed his lips but only nodded before he pushed himself to his feet. “Loo,” he said to the air in general and went into the changing room.

“His boyfriend left him a year ago for another bloke… never suspected a thing,” Oliver said in a low, sympathetic voice.

“Oh,” Harry murmured quietly.

“He’s a bit sensitive about it, that’s all,” August added. “I’m sure you’re right about Ginny.” He leaned in to say something but a series of ear-splitting pops drowned him out; everyone looked up, their mouths falling open in surprise.

There was a swarm of reporters, all of them converging on Harry; the flash of a camera blinded him.

“Harry!”

“Can we get a statement about Ginny?”

“Are you joining the Cannons?”

“Have you found a new love yet?”

The questions bounced all around the gathered team, and Harry pressed himself back against the bleachers as they leaned in.

“Hey!” Styles finally shouted; he and the two Beaters pushed themselves right into the aggressive reporters’ faces; in front of Harry. “This is not a public pitch! You’ve no right to be here!”

“Harry is a public figure,” one of the reporters retorted. “We have every right to get a statement from him.”

“I’ve nothing to say,” Harry said quickly, but the reporters paid no attention.

“Can you tell us anything, Harry?” one of them asked. “Did you know about Miss Weasley’s suitors?”

“How many has she had?” called another.

“She hasn’t had any,” Harry said through his teeth.

“So you didn’t know then?”

“There was nothing to know,” Harry insisted.

“The little tart was seen in Diagon Alley, just this morning, kissing another fellow,” the first reporter said.

“Don’t call her that!” Harry snarled. “And you’re lying!”

The reporter smiled. “Am I?” he asked innocently. He reached into the inside pocket of his robes. “Is this picture lying as well?”

Harry gaped at the photograph as a camera captured his shock.

Not Ginny. Not Ginny. Not Ginny, his brain repeated.

It didn’t matter that she had fiery red hair, as long as Ginny’s. Or that a tall bloke had his arms around her back, their lips locked together… her palms against the boy’s chest. “That’s not Ginny…” he breathed.

It couldn’t be…

The reporter continued smiling as he jotted on his pad, saying aloud as he wrote, “Hero in denial…”

“I’m not in denial!”

“So you’re confirming the reports that Ginny had a bit on the side?” the reporter asked eagerly.

“Do you know the names of any of her suitors?” another demanded, with her quill poised over her notepad.

“How many were there?”

“There weren’t any!”

“Denial,” the first reporter said firmly, and the other reporters nodded along; their quills were writing furiously.

“Stop that!”

August had grabbed Harry’s arm and he tried to wrench it free, but August held him fast.

“It’ll just make a better story if you hit him,” August said into Harry’s ear. Harry gnashed his teeth and stopped struggling.

“All right!” a deep voice called out from behind them; Harry and August turned. “Maxwell Short, Magical Law Enforcement,” a burly man barked out, while his tall companion waved a wand toward the throng of reporters, who were writing even more furiously now. “This is a private pitch,” the burly man said. “All of you move along now or you will be escorted out.”

“Harry Potter strong-arms truth seekers,” one of the reporters muttered.

“You aren’t looking for the truth,” Harry snapped, but the reporter only smiled and continued with his writing even as the two M.L.E. officers shepherded him and his fellows off the pitch.

Harry stared after them, his jaw beginning to throb in time with his heartbeat and he wondered how much trouble he’d be in if he threw out a Furnunculus or two.

“Nasty lot,” Styles grumbled as he came up beside Harry and August.

Harry took a calming breath and said to the captain, “Sorry about that.” Lovely way to end his first practice with the Cannons…

“Not your fault, mate.” Styles shook his head, his eyes following the reporters’ retreating back as well. “How do you put up with it?”

“Not much choice, looks like,” August said quietly. “Photographs can be altered.” he added, his hand giving Harry’s shoulder a squeeze; Harry sighed. He knew that well enough, after that image of Voldemort had been altered last year.

“Excellent work!”

The trio turned at Oliver’s loud congratulations; his arm was slung over Harding’s.

“Harding here called the M.L.E.,” he explained.

“Always a step ahead of us.” Styles gave the Seeker an enthusiastic clap on the back.

Harry smiled at Harding. “Thanks,” he said sincerely. Harding shrugged; his face was relaxed as he returned the smile.

--

Harry and August Apparated to Hogwarts’ gates after they’d showered and changed. Harry groaned as he tried to steady his protesting stomach, using one of the iron slats to support himself.

“I told you to stand close,” August reminded him, peering in with eyebrows puckered in worry. “Going to sick up?”

“No…” And Harry forced himself not to. Not hugging August around the middle while Apparating had seemed like the best course a few moments ago…

“You’ve Apparated before, haven’t you?”

Harry straightened up; it sounded like August was two seconds away from running to the castle to fetch his father. “I’m all right,” Harry assured him. “Magical travel doesn’t agree with me…”

“Except a broomstick?” August asked with a smirk.

“Just Floos and Apparition,” Harry said with an answering grin. “And Portkeys, come to think of it…”

August made a face. “I hate Portkeys. You’ll be all right once you learn to Apparate by yourself, I imagine. It’s different when you’re controlling it.”

“Hope so…” Harry hefted his rucksack over his shoulder. “Thanks for bringing me home.”

“Absolutely.” August gestured down the long road behind them. “I want to look in the bookstore; any interest?”

Harry glanced at Hogwarts’ main gate; August’s gaze followed.

“We can go in and tell your father.” He smiled wryly. “We’d better, eh?”

Harry hesitated, unsure if it was safe to tell August about the connection he shared with his father. But since Severus had obviously trusted his former student to deliver Harry safely back to Hogwarts…

“If you’d rather not…”

Harry shook his head. “It isn’t that. It’s a rather complicated story, but my dad and I established a mental connection last year-”

“A link between your minds?” August’s eyebrows had swept up with interest. “I’ve read about it, of course… but that sort of connection usually only happens when two people bond, doesn’t it?”

“I think so; at least as my dad and Dumbledore explained it. It was a precaution when Voldemort was still alive.” Harry shrugged. “But I can speak to him through the connection…”

“Truly?”

Harry smiled at the awed tone; at least he hadn’t scoffed or run away screaming. And while August watched, fascinated, Harry focused on his wisp.

Dad?

His father’s response was immediate. Yes?

Owen invited me to go to Hogsmeade for lunch. May I?

Have you any money?

That gave Harry pause. He hadn’t thought to bring his coin purse, which was stuffed full of almost all the money his dad had been giving him as a weekly allowance; he’d used only a few galleons during the last two Hogsmeade weekends of the year.

I retain an account at The Three Broomsticks, Severus’ flame added before Harry could reply in the negative. Enjoy yourself.

Thanks. Harry hoped his dad could feel his smile. The flame warmed around him briefly and Harry knew he had.

“That was… odd,” August said when Harry let his wisp settle in again and they were walking toward Hogsmeade. “Your eyes sort of glazed over…”

“Did they?”

“A bit…”

“What are you looking for at the bookstore?” Harry asked as they came to the little shop.

“A book for your friend Hermione, actually,” August said as he led the way inside; Harry’s step faltered. “I told her about one of my favorite authors—a fellow named Broker. She had never heard of him, which seemed to fluster her quite a bit…”

August’s voice faded away as he went behind one of the stacks of books near the back; his head popped out a moment later. “Harry?”

Harry came toward him at a slower pace, two very distinct emotions warring in his chest; he hadn’t decided how loyal he wanted to be to Ron by the time he reached the teetering stack of novels.

“She’ll love the book, don’t worry,” August said as he stretched up to snatch one with a red binding at the top.

“Hermione loves all books…”

August grinned. “I sort of got that impression.” He flipped through the gold-edged pages before asking, “Do you mind if we stop at the post office?”

Harry shook his head and said nothing as he waited while August sorted out galleons.

“Thank you,” August said to the clerk who seemed much more interested in smiling at Harry than in counting out August’s change.

“You’re Harry Potter,” she said shyly; her fingers were still curled around August’s knuts.

“Snape,” August corrected before Harry could; he held his hand out pointedly for the coins, and she dropped them into his palm without a glance.

“Are you going to be here all summer?” the clerk asked, and Harry could see a copy of the morning’s Prophet on the counter behind her—it looked well-read.

“No,” he said, more aggressively than he meant to and the girl’s eyes widened. Harry flushed; he ducked his head and shoved his hands into his pockets. August tugged on his arm, his coins still in his fist, and he and Harry left the shop without another word.

“You all right?”

“Yeah… bit sensitive about it,” he said, echoing August’s earlier words about the Cannon's Seeker. August smiled a little and steered them toward the post office. “Owen,” Harry said tentatively before he could go inside. Harry bit his lip as he tried to figure out how not to offend. “Ron’s my friend…”

August glanced down at the book in his hand. “Ah... Hermione’s going to date someone else eventually, you realize…” He sighed and held out the book. “Would you give it to her, then? You can just say I mentioned it if you’d like; just so she has it…”

Harry took the book, guilt making his chest tight. “It isn’t that I don’t think you and she wouldn’t get on…”

“But if I date her, it will make things between you and Ron rather uncomfortable,” August said with a quick nod; he smiled a little. “Especially as Oliver and I do intend to keep encouraging you to join the team.”

“It’s another-”

“-whole year, yeah,” August finished for him. “You keep saying that, you know. So just because I’m a nosy bastard, is that Professor’s Snape’s qualm… or your own?”

“We’ve never discussed it; not seriously.”

“Would you be interested?” August pressed. “Reserve Seeker for the season—learn the ropes from Martin. You could practice as your schedule allows; school would still be your top priority.”

Harry didn’t have an answer, but mostly, he realized as they went into The Three Broomsticks, because he didn’t know what his father would think of the idea.

--

Severus was coming down the castle’s front steps as Harry walked up the path from the front gate; he waved and Severus waited for him at the bottom of the stairs.

“Where are you going?” Harry asked as soon as he made it to his dad.

“To the Forbidden Forest, to collect a few sprigs of mistletoe. I need them for a brew I am experimenting with.”

“Can I come with you?”

“Certainly,” Severus said with a smile. “Did you enjoy yourself?” he asked as they turned toward Hagrid’s cabin.

“Yeah, I did,” Harry told him, a bit surprised at just how much he had enjoyed the impromptu visit to Hogsmeade.

“You purchased a book?” Severus asked, gesturing to the one August had given him. “Did you use my account at Nodding’s?”

“I didn’t know you had one at the book shop… Owen bought it for Hermione… He fancies her.” Harry frowned. “And I’m not certain why, but I sort of implied that I didn’t want him to see her, so he gave me the book to deliver.”

“You are unfailingly loyal to your friends… even if they do not deserve it.”

Harry sighed; he wasn’t particularly angry at Ron any longer, though he didn’t think he’d be especially happy to see him either.

“I have accounts with most of the establishments in Hogsmeade, should you need to purchase something, except Madame Puddifoot’s and Zonko’s… I do have one at the Hog’s Head, though I would generally prefer you avoid that particular establishment.”

“It’s not really my favorite place,” Harry said, unconcerned by the mild edict.

“Mm,” Severus murmured thoughtfully. And then, “How did you fair at practice?”

Harry made a face which had his father raising an eyebrow.

“Some reporters came to the pitch,” Harry explained.

Severus immediately halted. “What?” he demanded darkly.

Harry summarized their visit; by the time he finished, his father’s eyes were snapping with ire. And Harry wasn’t entirely sure at whom that anger was directed.

“The photo must have been manipulated,” Severus agreed with a scowl and Harry relaxed, but the relief didn’t last long. “I will take care of it.”

“What are you going to do?” Harry asked, eyeing his father as they began walking once more.

“Nothing terribly illegal,” Severus answered with a sideways glance. He smiled slightly when Harry opened his mouth to protest. “My presence at the pitch should deter them.”

“You don’t need to do that-”

“I will not feel comfortable if you are so exposed,” Severus interrupted.

Harry noted the firm set of his father’s jaw and nodded silently.

They’d reached the edge of the Forbidden Forest; Severus beckoned him forward.

“We do not need to go far.”

Harry kept pace with his father, crouching down beside him when Severus knelt beside a bush. “Do you see this?” Severus asked, his voice loud in the hush of the dim forest. “Other than in this forest, mistletoe only bears fruit in the winter. The berry’s juice is quite sticky when the fruit is mashed.” He plucked a small sprig and gave it to Harry. “I am experimenting with adding the pulp to a basic healing salve, to enhance its adhesive qualities.”

Harry squeezed the berry between his thumb and first finger; its cloudy, viscous juice coated his fingers.

“It’s used in Sticking Solution, isn’t it?”

“Yes, and in the creation of Spell-o Tape.”

Harry wiped the juice in the damp grass around his feet and handed the sprig back to his father. Severus took a container out of one of his pockets and placed the plant carefully inside and then he showed Harry how to pluck the sprigs, with a gentle twist to the left.

“How many do you need?” Harry asked after he’d set the sixth one in the container.

“Two more should suffice,” Severus murmured as he examined leaves and berries with gentle fingers. As soon as the last specimen was deposited in the pile, Severus closed the lid and turned his attention to Harry.

“There is something on your mind,” he said, his dark eyes holding Harry’s steadily; Harry blinked. “Would you care to illuminate me?”

Harry pursed his lips for a moment and finally sighed. “I was thinking about something Owen asked me while were in Hogsmeade…” He hadn’t realized, however, that he’d been dwelling on it. Severus raised both eyebrows, inviting Harry to continue.

“The team wants me to sign on as Reserve Seeker next season…”

Severus’ brows furrowed. “And you wish to?”

“I never considered it as a possibility,” Harry said with a shrug.

“You will still be in school.”

“I know… but Owen said I could attend practices as I’m able; it wouldn’t interfere much.”

“You do wish to then?” Severus inferred, his eyes studying Harry’s face. “At least you wish to entertain the idea.”

Before Harry could answer, Severus went on, “You would be unable to continue playing on the Gryffindor team; your practices generally take up a great deal of your time, and you would have considerably less opportunities for leisure activities.”

“Yeah…”

Severus frowned. “Your interest is based on your current difficulty with Ginny?” When Harry swallowed and averted his gaze, Severus said quietly, “Perhaps a decision should wait until the season draws closer.”

Harry sighed, his fingers playing with one of the spiky mistletoe leaves. “I know that photo must have been tampered with… and I couldn’t even see Ginny’s face…” Harry pulled in a slow, unsteady breath. “How did you feel when Mum told you she kissed James?”

“Dead,” Severus answered in a low voice; Harry swallowed as he nodded. There was no other way to describe the feeling.

“Would you still have been her friend if she had chosen James?” he asked softly.

“For as long as she would have allowed it.”

Harry blinked several times, forcing the lump far past his Adam’s apple. Ginny’s dark brown eyes were in the forefront of Harry’s thoughts as he asked, “Would you object though, if I did want to play with the Cannons this season?”

Severus stood, and offering Harry a hand, pulled him up. “I do not know,” he answered; he settled a hand on Harry’s shoulder. “If it was not the best course, I would. And at the moment, I am inclined to think your last year at Hogwarts should be as carefree as possible.”

Harry didn’t say anything and was surprised when his father pulled him into a one-armed hug.

“You are still a child, though I do understand that the concept is difficult for you to fully appreciate.”

“I’m nearly seventeen…” Harry mumbled into his father’s shoulder.

“As I said,” Severus intoned dryly, “still a child.”

Harry smiled as his father dropped a kiss on the top of his head.

“Come along,” Severus said with a squeeze for Harry’s shoulder. “You can assist me with my experimentations.”

“Did Levi miss me?” Harry asked as they walked back toward the castle. “Or was he still irritated?”

“I have no idea; I do not speak dragon,” Severus said with a smirk.

“You’re a stitch, Dad…”