Hermione Granger was not your average girl. She was a witch, of course, but she was not your average witch, either. Not only was she highly intelligent and diligent in her studies, but she was also extremely practical in every other aspect of her well organized life. She had a routine that she followed almost every day, unless something came up with Ron or Harry; she’d always make time for her best friend and newly reinstated boyfriend.

She woke almost with the sunrise and showered before her dorm mates could use all of the hot water. Deciding what books she would need for classes and studying purposes, Hermione would pack her book bag accordingly, and carry it down to breakfast with her. Upon loading her plate with the proper servings of each food group, the Gryffindor would then retrieve one of her books, and commence studying until Ron and Harry showed up for breakfast as well. If it was a weekday, she would head off to class at least ten minutes early, and if it was a weekend, she would head straight for the library after finishing her breakfast foods.

So on Saturday when she was on her way to the library for her morning study session, she was surprised to be hailed and called aside by her Head of House. She dutifully followed the Professor into the staff lounge, frowning in confusion when she met all of the other Prefects already inside and waiting patiently. Hermione sat beside Ron with a puzzled look, which he returned with a shrug.

“I’ve called you all here this morning because we have an emergency situation on our hands. I am sure most, if not all of you, have noticed the disturbances in the castle as of late. These strange occurrences have been analysed and it is of the opinion of the Headmaster and all four Heads of House that the castle must be evacuated in order to strip and reapply the ancient wards that protect this school.”

A shocked silence greeted Professor McGonagall’s words as all the Prefects gaped at each other. Evacuation? It was only just March; were they being sent home early? Without exams? Hermione was horrified!

“Headmaster Dumbledore has arranged a plan to evacuate everyone from the castle by Monday morning. However, no one is being sent home early. Your classes will be on a hiatus for a month, the time in which this process will take, but each teacher will assign a special project for you to work on during that time. As for living space...”

The Deputy Headmistress looked as though she didn’t exactly approve of what she was about to say, with her lips thinned and her back rigid. She met Hermione’s eye and relaxed a little at her gobsmacked expression. Of course the dear girl was horrified; no classes for a month!

“A temporary camp ground of sorts will be set up on the Quidditch pitch, protected by every ward the school and Ministry can throw at it. Two students will be assigned to a tent, same-sex, but different Houses. Not only will this be a good time to get to know your peers and learn to work together in hard situations, it is a good time to learn that those from other Houses are not our enemies, but our brethren and equals.”

Large stacks of parchment went sailing to each Prefect and the Head Boy and Girl. Ron grimaced at the idea of paperwork, while Hermione started shuffling through them quickly. Just as Professor McGonagall was about to explain, the door opened and revealed none other than Draco Malfoy, his Prefects badge gleaming on his chest.

“Sorry for being late, Professor. I just received the go-ahead from the Headmaster and Professor Snape to resume my Prefect duties,” Draco explained as he sat on the other side of Hermione and beside Pansy, who was giving him a look of disdain as she dropped the heavy stack of parchment in front of him.

The Gryffindor Head of House nodded in acceptance and turned back to her parchment, most likely wondering where she had left off. This had all been hacked together so quickly, she felt extremely scatter-brained and unprepared. “Ah, yes. These are lists of the projects each Professor has assigned. They are separated by year and subject. Please post them in your common rooms and be prepared to answer questions. I’ve provided extra copies of each for studying purposes.”

She hefted another, smaller stack of parchment and passed it out amongst the students. “These are the lists of tent partners. Please post them in the common rooms, Great Hall, and any other corridor you see fit. The Headmaster will be making an announcement tonight at supper to the rest of the school, and give instructions to have everything packed by Sunday evening. Are there any questions?”

Hermione raised her hand immediately, earning a groan from Ron and snickers from a few of the other Prefects. “Yes, Professor. Who will be in charge of everything? I know the combined powers off all the Professors must go into the spell-work of reapplying the wards, hence the reason for no formal classes.”

“Right you are, Ms. Granger. The Head Boy and Girl will be in charge and will be able to report to the Heads should they need to. You as Prefects are also in a position of authority, and I expect stand-up behaviour and applying of the rules to keep your peers in check. Of course, other staff members who cannot help in this process will also be there to help keep an eye on things.”

“Where will we eat?” Ron asked, ignoring the way Hermione tsked and rolled her eyes at him. Food was very important, and not just to him! He saw a few of the other Prefects agree with that question.

“There will be a temporary mess hall set up, as well as restroom and hygienic facilities. The house elves must also be evacuated from the castle, so they will have their own area as well. A reminder; no living creature can be within the castle during this process. That said, all students must take their pets with them and watch after them appropriately. The wards around the pitch will keep them from escaping into the forest or anything else from creeping onto the pitch and feasting on said pets. Post owls will be sent to the Hogsmeade post office for the time being, and a collection will be made to send letters out every few days.”

“What if we don’t like our tent partners?” Draco asked, positive he was going to get stuck with Weasley or that prat Smith.

Professor McGonagall smirked – actually smirked – and tapped the parchment pointedly in front of Draco. “I dare say you already quite like your tent partner, Mr. Malfoy. However, if anyone should not like their tent partner, they will simply have to get over it. The point in splitting up the Houses is to create unity and understanding amongst all of you.”

Draco looked down at the list, finding his name and following the column over until he saw that he would be rooming with – Harry! He smiled at the Gryffindor Head of House and blushed slightly as the other Prefects caught on to the hidden meaning by checking their own lists. Hermione giggled while Ron groaned.

After everything was hashed out and discussed, the Prefects took their large piles of parchment and filed out of the staff room. The only two people left were Professor McGonagall and Draco, who waved his wand to make sure the door was properly closed behind the last Prefect.

“Professor, I had another question, but I couldn’t ask in front of everyone. What about my father? Where will he be staying?” Draco asked quietly, still a bit paranoid about anyone else hearing that his father was currently in the castle.

The Deputy Headmistress looked up at the blonde with a curious expression before finally realizing who exactly the boy was. “Ah, Malfoy. Well, I’m actually not sure, to be quite honest. I’d ask either Professor Snape, or Headmaster Dumbledore about that. If you’ll excuse me?” The witch left the room in a hurry, leaving Draco to glare after her.

S~S~S~S

The castle was in disarray after the notices went up and the announcements were made for the move out onto the grounds. Students were complaining about their tent mates, having to camp outside like animals – that one had been Pansy Parkinson – and even some celebrating about the hiatus on classes. Professors were scrambling to get their projects finalized for their students to complete during the hiatus, and house elves were working overtime, helping to set up the make-shift camp ground on the Quidditch pitch with Professors Flitwick and McGonagall.

Meanwhile in the Snape household, Harry was being taught every warding and protection spell under the sun by both of his father’s, completely exasperated by the level of their worry for him. Draco had even started in, adding in a few spells that he had taught himself that bordered on being dark magic.

“Really, Dad, I’ll be fine out there. It’s not as if I’m ever going to really be alone at any point, and the pitch is being warded like crazy. Stop worrying so much,” Harry insisted as he plopped down on the sofa, exhausted from having to learn a whole barrage of spells in such a short amount of time.

The Potions Master sat beside Harry, frowning at the boy’s nonchalant attitude towards his safety. It was clear his son didn’t realize just how much danger he would be in outside of the castle’s walls. “We are only making sure that you’re learning to take the necessary extra precautions to protect yourself. It may not have occurred to you, but there are indeed a few of your classmates who are Marked Death Eaters, and will try to use this opportunity to get at you. With the severe lack of supervision that will be taking place, you are in more danger than I think you’re properly aware of.”

“What he’s trying to say,” Remus said as he entered the sitting room from down the hall and sat down beside Severus, “Is that we just want to make sure you’re safe, Harry. We won’t be able to watch over you as much as we would like, so it’s up to you to be extremely aware of your surroundings. Besides, give us some credit; you may not be an infant, but we are essentially new parents, and we worry every time you step outside our home just to walk the halls.”

Harry blushed at the open look of pure adoration and worry on Remus’ face, and the way the Potions Master nodded his agreement. He’d never felt so truly cared for in his life, that he could remember at least, and it felt wonderful. Something Remus said made him think quite a random thought, however, and after studying his parents for a minute or two, he decided to voice it.

“If it were possible, would you guys want any more children? Like one that’s a baby and not nearly a grown adult?”

Severus’ eyebrows disappeared into his hair as Remus choked on a sip of tea beside him. To be quite honest, Severus had never really thought about having any more children. He’d never seen himself as a father before, and even taking care of a teenager had its trying moments, granted that the teen was Harry Potter. Severus looked over to see if Remus looked quite as thrown as he did, and felt his stomach drop as he saw the openly curious expression on his husband’s face. Obviously, they indeed did not share the same feelings.

“Well, I did always imagine what it would be like to raise a child from infancy. I knew I could never really have that though, seeing as people with Lycanthropy aren’t supposed to reproduce. I would never damn a child to having this affliction,” said Remus, a sadness in his eyes that made Severus’ throat tighten uncomfortably.

They were thirty-six year old men in the midst of a war against evil forces, supporting and essentially raising the person who was supposed to end said war, not to mention their jobs as Professors left them very little time to even see each other, let alone attend to a young child. But the earnest expression in his husband’s eyes tore everything else away, and made Severus want to fix it any way he could. When he truly let himself think about it, raising a child from infancy to adulthood was much like watching a potion mature. Something he made with precise handling and hard work, changing and turning into something strong and powerful under his care and protection; it actually sounded quite wonderful.

“If there were some way, Remus, would you truly want another child?” Severus asked quietly, ignoring the way Harry gasped. Clearly, the boy had no idea the can of flobberworms he was opening with his question.

Remus was too stunned to even answer the question properly. Was the man actually thinking of the idea of raising a child appealing? He had never pegged Severus as the fathering type, though he did do quite a good job with Harry and Draco. “Severus, what do you mean?”

“I mean...what if I told you that I knew a way? And also, there have been cases of children born to Lycanthropic parents, and they turned out quite healthy, without the affliction. Do you truly want to have a child of our own?”

“Do you?” Remus asked on an exhale, unaware that he had been holding his breath.

“I might have a slight interest, not that I don’t think of you as every bit my son, Harry,” Severus made sure to reassure the boy, who was grinning at the two Professors.

“I know, Dad. I have always wanted a sibling...” Harry offered with a cheeky grin, earning a smile from Remus and a chuckle from Severus.

“Well, it’s obvious the subject is up for discussion, but I think right now is not the proper time to make a decision. Wizards live to be hundreds of years old; we’ve plenty of time at our considerably young ages,” Severus said, glad when Remus nodded in agreement. Perhaps the timing was not right, but the odds of another child in his future seemed to be quite high.

S~S~S~S

Monday morning approached, and with it came a strong up-surge of heartburn and lack of sleep for the Hogwarts Professors. Knowingly handing their students tents and sending them on their way to fend for themselves for a month, so to speak, had them all on edge and dreading what they would find at the end. Most predicted dead bodies and mayhem.

Severus and Remus were especially worried about their son and godson, on Severus’ part. They were both in grave danger, should anything happen to the wards protecting the Quidditch pitch or surrounding grounds. The weakest spot was the Forbidden Forest, in which the students would be allowed to travel once a week to work on their Potions project. Severus considered exempting Harry and Draco from the assignment, but Dumbledore had vetoed the idea. Severus was not happy with the Headmaster at all.

Harry and Draco were both packed and ready to go. Harry was excited to finally get to go camping, considering the Dursleys had never taken him along on their trips before. Draco, on the other hand, had a long list of complaints. When Harry described to him what camping would be like without magic, Draco let it go, for the most part.

Harry had heard an earful from Ron about having to room with Zacharias Smith, as well as more veiled complaints from Hermione about her tent-mate being Pansy Parkinson. Harry predicted that things would not end well, having those two girls together in one tent. There had been an awkward moment when the tents had been handed out in which Draco and Pansy had accidently touched hands. Pansy blushed so brightly, Harry was sure her hair had even gone red. Draco had just smirked and walked away, earning a scowl from Harry. The Gryffindor was no idiot; he knew Draco had all of his memories back, including his past relationship with the Slytherin girl.

“Don’t taunt her, Draco. That’s not fair,” Harry whispered as the blonde brought their rolled up tent over to Harry, who was waiting for him at the doors to the Great Hall.

Draco rolled his eyes as he charmed both his and Harry’s trunks to follow them out of the oak doors leading to the grounds. All living beings had to be evacuated from the school by noon in order to start the stripping of the wards, which in itself would take two full weeks.

“I wasn’t taunting her, Harry. Besides, she’s the one who blushed like a pathetic thirteen-year-old virgin, not me. I was just being nice,” Draco insisted, scowling when Harry smacked him on the arm.

“Draco! You know, I’m still a virgin too. Does that make me pathetic?”

“I would debate the truthfulness of that statement,” said Draco, chuckling when Harry blushed beside him, his own grin taking over his face.

“Well, define virgin, then,” Harry demanded, smirking as Draco leered at him, ready to launch into his definition. He never got to explain, however, as the Potions Master and Defence Professor caught up with them.

“We’ve asked to be able to check on the both of you every once in a while, and you’ll have full access to our tent, should you ever need us,” Severus explained, rolling his eyes at the word ‘tent’. Really, their tent was more like a portable hotel suite.

“Your guys’ tent will also be exempt from my class project. However, that does not mean that you do not have to participate as a part of your group still. It only means that no one will be allowed to try to dismantle the wards on your tent, not that any sixth year could manage such a thing anyways,” said Remus, walking alongside the Potions Master carrying their own tent.

“Severus, what about my father?” Draco whispered as they got closer to where the students and Professors must split ways. The Quidditch pitch was separated into four different sections; students, Professors, mess hall and restrooms, and the house elves’ living space, which resembled a large beige marquee. The Professors were closest to the castle.

“He’s safe, outside of the castle. I cannot tell you more than that, because he’s under a Fidelius to which I am not the Secret Keeper. I suggest you talk to Professor Dumbledore if you’d like to see your father,” Severus admitted, sighing heavily as the blonde frowned and nodded his acceptance. It was clear that, despite everything the man had done wrong, Lucius Malfoy was still a very important part of Draco’s life.

The Quidditch pitch was teeming with students trying to set up their tents and attempt their first try at expanding the insides. Some were having a hard time with setting the tent itself up, never mind altering the interior. Harry was glad he at least knew how to set up a tent, because he was sure Draco had no idea. As he set the canvas down and began searching for the right poles, Draco huffed and pulled out his wand.

“Erectus! Really, Harry. Do you even remember that you’re a Wizard?” Draco asked as he rolled his eyes and entered their tent, scowling at how tiny it was. He immediately began measure how far he could extend the Wizard’s space without altering the outside appearance of the tent.

Harry glared at the blonde and directed their trunks to sit off to the side while he began doing his own measuring to help with the altering spells. “I had no idea there was a spell to set up tents, thank you very much. How did you even know?”

“Wizards do go camping, Potter. I was at the Quidditch World Cup too,” Draco retorted as he began incanting his first spell, heightening the ceiling of the tent to double what it was originally.

“It’s not the same as camping without magic; I’ve told you this before. Besides, I’m sure the inside of your tent looked like a mansion,” Harry retorted, extending the sides of the tent out, making it much larger than it was before.

Draco stepped out of the tent to make sure their spell work had worked only on the inside, without altering the outside appearance. So far, so good. “Well, it was nearly an exact replica of the Chateau on the continent, but nowhere as enormous as the Manor.”

“Prat.”

Harry and Draco paused in their bickering as Ron stumbled into their tent, looking around with his mouth agape at their spell-work. Hermione joined a moment after Ron, giving the extended tent an appreciative nod, and glaring when Pansy pranced in behind her, looking like she owned the place.

“Nice work you two!”

“Thanks, Weasley. Er...Pansy?” Draco asked, his pale and perfectly manicured eyebrow rising almost into his sleek hair. Even with the tent modified, it was still an awfully cramped space for two people, let alone five.

The Slytherin girl took a good look around the tent, admiring the way Draco’s On-the-Inside-Looking-Out charm showed the ‘front door’ of their tent, like a Muggle security camera would. As she finally made her way back over to the group of confused and curious teens, Pansy smiled benignly and held out her hand to Draco.

“Friends?”

Draco’s other eyebrow joined the first as Harry scowled at the brunette and her offensive hand. He was about to tell her off for being so presumptuous, but was instead shocked into silence as Draco took her dainty hand into his larger one, and placed a chaste kiss on the back of it.

“Yeah, friends. We’ve known each other since before we could even walk or talk. How could we not be friends?” Draco said incredulously, ignoring the way Harry glared at him, then Pansy, then back at him again.

Pansy frowned as she pulled her hand away from the blonde, scuffing her toe on the vinyl floor of the tent to stall for more time. She finally gave up as Hermione made an impatient tsking noise.

“I’ve been an idiot, Draco. I’ve been siding against you this whole year, and for what? Potter saved your life; of course you’re going to be close to him now. What I mean is, if you and Professor Snape can find something so appealing in Potter, then maybe I can as well. Besides, Blaise was a prat and didn’t have half the charisma that you did when you were at the top of your game in Slytherin. He was just bossy and snooty. At least you were tasteful as well.”

Draco’s slight smile split into a smirk as he pulled the Slytherin girl into a tight hug. They didn’t separate until a very loud and obviously annoyed clearing of a throat interrupted their tender moment. Draco blushed apologetically as he pulled away from Pansy and saw Harry with his arms crossed over his chest, glaring at the two Slytherins with fire in his eyes.

“Oh, uh...Sorry, Potter. Or Harry. Or...um...What do you want me to call you?” Pansy asked nervously as she held a hand out to Harry, who glared at it for a moment or two before sighing dramatically and taking it up, pointedly only shaking the appendage, not kissing it.

“You can call me Harry. I just have one rule, alright?” Harry waited until Pansy gave a sign that she was ready to hear his rule before going on. “You’re not to insult my friends – any of them – as long as I’m around. You do realize what this really means, right?”

Pansy hesitated as she looked around at the other Gryffindors and Draco, whose expression was one of hope. She couldn’t let her one-time best friend down. “Alright, I agree to the rule. And yes, I realize this means more than just a shift in friendships. This means I’m essentially allying myself with the Light. I don’t want to follow in my father’s footsteps. So if it means tagging along with you, then so be it.”

After an awkward silence that lasted entirely too long, Pansy swept her hair over her shoulder and made for the exit. “Well, I’ve got to finish unpacking. See you all later. Oh, and Granger, Tibbles isn’t very fond of Crookshanks, so he’ll have to stay in that basket thing you have him in.” With that, she was gone.

“Ugh, I still can’t stand her!” Hermione growled as she stomped her foot, glaring at the spot where Pansy had stood moments before.

“I don’t trust her as far as I could throw her,” Draco said in a nonchalant manner as he made a few more minor adjustments to his and Harry’s tent.

Harry huffed as he turned to face Draco, who was squinting at the ceiling in contemplation of just how high he could get it without changing the outward appearance. “Then what the hell was all that lovey-dovey hugging shite?”

Rolling his eyes at the Gryffindor, the blonde made one final adjustment, then stowed his wand away. “Strategy, Potter. If we let her believe that we trust her, she’ll let her guard down, and then we can find out the real reason she’s getting buddy-buddy with us. Think like a Slytherin, love.”

“Stop calling me Potter, Malfoy,” Harry groused, staring at the two plain beds shoved into opposite corners of the tent. “Think Professor McGonagall would count off points if we simply transfigured the two beds into one?”

“Oh Merlin, Harry,” Ron complained, his face screwed up in obvious distaste.

S~S~S~S

It was unnervingly dark and especially chilly, given that it was only just the end of March. Draco desperately needed to relieve himself, but the thought of walking all the way to the make-shift lavatories made him want to snuggle closer to Harry, who was tucked warmly against his chest. After trying to convince himself he could wait until morning, which was still nearly five hours away, Draco gave in and carefully extracted himself from Harry’s half-embrace. He slipped his dressing gown and slippers on before removing the wards protecting their tent and carefully unzipping it to step out into the hair-raisingly chilly night air. Draco made sure he replaced the wards, lest someone try to take advantage of Harry being alone. Being Slytherin had its advantages, also known as paranoia.

It hadn't occurred to the teens when choosing a spot to set up their tent that the spot they had chosen was annoyingly far away from both the bathrooms and mess hall. Draco sighed dramatically as he pulled his dressing gown closer to himself, forcing his jaw not to chatter against his teeth as he shivered. Of course, the warming spells on the temporary loo were faulty at best, and so Draco was very glad he was male and had the option of standing. The biggest thing the blonde despised were the ‘sinks’, which were more like murky wash basins filled with charmed lukewarm water. Draco cringed and aimed a cleaning spell at his hands instead, not wanting to find out the hard way which fungus was growing on the few boys who actually did bother washing their hands in the make-shift sinks.

As Draco made to leave, a strange gurgling from the pipes gave him pause. He stood and listened for a moment before deciding it was nothing of concern. He realized this was a mistake when he turned his back, and seconds later became drenched in less than sanitary water.

“What the bloody hell?!” Draco screeched as he spun around, ready to hex whoever was there six ways from Sunday. “Who’s there? Show yourself!”

When no answer was forthcoming, Draco pulled his wand and performed a drying spell on himself before stalking to each of the stalls and searching them. There was nobody there; nobody visible, at least. “I am a Slytherin Prefect and so help me, I’ll put you in detention until you graduate!” Draco warned as he decided on which revealing spell to use to find the culprit.

“Hominem revealio!” Nothing.

“Specialis revealio!” Zilch.

“Spiritu revealio!” Draco jumped violently as water came splashing out of the stall behind him, a horrible moaning cry ringing through the room.

“Oh that’s just not fair! None of the other students ever figure that one out! How did you know?”

Draco swept his damp hair out of his eyes and stared up at the transparent girl floating before him. He’d heard that voice before, and even now the whinging quality and babyish pitch made him cringe.

“Who are you?” Draco demanded, drying himself once more with a pointed glare at the ghost, who looked to be roughly the same age as Draco.

The ghostly young woman held herself rigidly and frowned with a haughty expression. “My name is Myrtle, though most everyone that’s seen me calls me Moaning Myrtle. Surely you’ve heard of me?”

Draco shrugged as he leaned back against the wall, his arms crossed over his chest. It was still awfully chilly, despite his warming charm. “Yeah, I’ve heard of you. In fact, I probably know much more about you than others who’ve seen you.”

The ghostly girl’s pout turned into a wide smile, her out-dated frizzy hair waving in an invisible breeze. Her wire framed glasses with thick lenses gave off a vibe that soothed Draco remarkably. He couldn’t really pinpoint why, until he realized that her glasses reminded him of Harry.

“Really? You do look awfully familiar to me, though that greasy haired twitchy fellow was always with that blonde boy.”

Draco scoffed and gave the ghost an incredulous look. It was not the first, nor would it be the last time he was confused with his father. “That’s probably my father and Godfather you’re thinking of. It’s been awhile since they were students here.”

Myrtle cocked her head to the side as she stared at Draco, as if in deep concentration. Her smile turned lascivious as realization came into her eyes. “Ah, yes...You must know Harry Potter then. How is dear Harry doing?” Myrtle sighed, love-sickness written all over her face.

Scowling, Draco pushed himself away from the wall and approached the transparent young woman, who had floated down to his level. “‘Dear Harry’ is just fine, and yes, I know him quite well,” Draco groused, giving the ghost a pointed look.

“Oh...” Myrtle breathed, her annoying pout returning once more. Suddenly, a look of intense determination came over the girl as she floated almost uncomfortably close to Draco. “You better be good to him, Mr. – What’s your name?”

“Draco Malfoy, and I am, I promise. So you knew my dad when he came here, eh?” Draco asked curiously. It would be odd to see his father at his age, how he looked and acted. Was Draco really so much like him?

“Oh yes, yes...He and that other boy used to come in here and plot their little misdeeds. I listened for a long time without ever letting them know I was around, but when I heard one of them mention the name Tom Riddle, I came out to talk to them,” Myrtle explained, sitting crossed legged on the dirt and canvas floor.

Draco grimaced at the idea of sitting on the floor of the loo and having a conversation with a perverted ghost, but he sat down across from her anyways, only because he was finally getting to the good part. “Did you know Tom Riddle, too?”

“Uh huh, but I knew him when I was still alive, long ago. He was a Slytherin Prefect, two years ahead of me in school. Very quiet boy, never really got into too much trouble. One time, he gave Olive detention for making fun of me. But...”

Draco leaned forward as Myrtle’s face scrunched in concentration. He knew something big was about to come out, and he was growing impatient as she sat and thought for a long time. “But...?”

Myrtle looked up at Draco and sighed dramatically, her pout taking over once more. “I think Tom was the last person I saw before I died. I always wondered why he never tried to save me...then again; I wasn’t really worth saving after all.”

Draco frowned, realizing that he was actually feeling sorry for the spirit. The poor girl never even knew that the last person she’d ever seen, was the person who ordered her death. “Everyone is worth saving, Myrtle. He didn’t save you because he was the one who told the Basilisk to look into your eyes and kill you. Is that why you stayed earth bound; so you could find out how and why you died?”

Myrtle had glistening, transparent tears trickling down her softly glowing cheeks. It was an odd sight to see a ghost cry. “That was part of the reason. The other part was that I wanted to haunt Olive Hornby for teasing me so much. I would be in my sixties if I hadn’t died so many long years ago. In all this time, I’ve learned that it’s better to pass on without knowing then be stuck for an eternity in a place you can never truly be a part of again.”

Draco couldn’t believe how much he was truly sympathizing with the dead girl. In a way, he knew exactly how she felt, and an understanding settled between them. “Well, the least I could do is try to keep you company for awhile,” Draco said, offering the ghostly girl one of his most charming smiles.

Myrtle sighed and giggled quite girlishly, almost certainly blushing, had she any blood to colour her cheeks. “Oh, Draco, I think I’m beginning to grow fond of you.”

S~S~S~S

Two weeks flew by as the students of Hogwarts learned to make do with what they had, out in the elements and unpredictable world of the Quidditch pitch. Random check-ups by the Prefects, Head boy and girl, and various Professors made sure things did not break out into utter chaos, though the effort was mostly wasted. Even though tempers had been flared and nerves were wracked about sharing a tent with a student of a different house at first, the students had had time to get used to their tent mate and learn to live with them.

The pick-up Quidditch games with students of completely random teams were probably Harry’s favourite part of the whole fiasco. The teams were often chosen using the method Harry had often seen in primary school, which he had a knack for being left out of. Here, however, he had no problems being chosen for a team, and often times, the team leads would fight over who got Harry as a Seeker, and who got Draco.

It was during one of these games that Harry and Draco were on opposing teams, chasing the Snitch at break neck speeds and trying to sabotage each other, good naturedly. The wards would only let them go so high and so far around the pitch, but the two teens still managed to perform fantastically dangerous stunts as they flipped, swerved, rolled and plunged to chase the ever-flying golden prize. Harry had a slight advantage on Draco after performing a flawless feint, and was just about to catch the Snitch when an almighty boom echoed through the grounds. Forgetting about the game completely, Harry turned his broom towards the sound, and felt his heart drop into his stomach as a large chunk of the west tower of Hogwarts castle began to cascade down the side. With only a second to decide, Harry used one of the many spells his father had taught him and broke the wards around the Quidditch pitch, tearing towards the large chunk of stone and mortar that was heading quickly towards the earth. He never noticed Draco coming up behind him on his own broom.

As Harry cleared the hill towards the castle, he could see the stone heading straight for the temporary camp where the Professor’s had been living, and sped up until his broom vibrated violently with speed. He managed to untangle his wand from his robe pocket and still steer his broom, aiming quickly at the stone.

“Confringo!”

“Protego Totalis!”

Harry hadn’t had time to think of anything better, only hoping that the smaller pieces of stone would do less damage to the camp below. He swung around quickly as he heard another shouted spell, and sped towards Draco, who was flying closer towards the camp, his wand expelling a huge shield around the area.

The sound of the stone cracking against the shield and flying off in other directions made Harry clench his teeth. He quickly flew beside Draco as he saw the Slytherin begin to veer off, all of his power forced into the shield spell. Clutching the blonde’s waist, Harry waited until the last of the stone had cleared the camp before carefully manoeuvring himself and Draco down to the ground.

There was a loud commotion as the Professors all came out from behind their own personally erected shield spells, rushing towards Harry and Draco, who made a clumsy landing in the centre of the camp. Harry quickly scanned the teachers and realized his father and Remus were not there.

“Where’s my dad, where’s Moony?” Harry asked Professor McGonagall as she assisted Professor Sinistra in making sure Draco and Harry were not harmed.

“They’re on the other side of the west tower, working on the outer wards. I’ve no idea what even caused the stone to fall, or where it came from!” the Head of Gryffindor said, her voice highly scandalized.

“The stone came from the west tower,” Harry informed the Professor before jumping on his broom once more, and taking off around the side of the castle, towards the offending tower. As he streaked through the sky, he saw the blue glow of a Patronus being sent off towards the Professor’s camps, and sped as quickly to the ground as he could as he saw two shapes near the base of the tower; one kneeling, the other lying down. There were bits of stone littered around the two Professors, and Harry felt his heart stop as he landed and saw his father lying unconscious on the ground, blood coming from his head and his leg crushed under a large bit of stone. Remus was kneeling beside him, murmuring to himself as he checked his husband’s vitals and tried to think of the best way to remove the stone from the man’s leg without aggravating the injury. His neck cricked as he heard Harry land and watched him rush to the Potions Master’s side.

“Dad!”

“Harry, what are you doing here? I’ve just sent a Patronus for help; he’s alright, just a concussion and a broken leg. I’m afraid to move the stone, however; I don’t want to make the break worse.” The Defence Professor’s voice was shaking, as were his pale hands as he swept black hair out of his husband’s eyes to get a better look at the large gash on his head.

The sight of so much blood around his father made Harry queasy, and he couldn’t stop the tears from leaking down his cheeks as he tried hard to keep himself from clutching the man to him to make sure he was really alive. “What happened? I heard a bang and saw the stone from the pitch. I flew over and broke the stone up to limit the damage, and Draco shielded the Professor’s camp.”

“Harry, you did what? How did you even leave the protective warding around the pitch? Students aren’t supposed to be anywhere near the castle during the warding, in case something like this should happen!” Remus shouted, his worry and fear filtering into his anger at Harry for being out-of-bounds.

Harry glared at his step-father as he clutched at the Potions Professor’s still hand. There was the sound of hurried footsteps around the side of the tower as the other Professors and hopefully Madame Pomfrey came rushing to their aid.

“I couldn’t just watch the stone fall and crush all of the Professors to death! I broke the wards around the pitch temporarily, just so I could get out. Draco must have slipped through with me without my noticing. The other Professors didn’t even know it was coming until it was almost too late!” Harry shouted back, indignant that he was being chastised for saving many lives, aided by his boyfriend, who ran towards him and kneeled beside him, his breath heaving in his chest.

“What happened?” Draco asked as he stared worriedly at his Head of House. He had one hand on Harry’s shoulder, squeezing it gently as he used the other to wipe the Gryffindor’s tears away.

“Out of the way, all of you!” Madam Pomfrey demanded as she ran up and dropped to her knees beside the injured Professor, her wand drawn as she quickly assessed the damage and began healing the gash.

“Remus, Minerva; very carefully hover the piece of stone up on off of his leg so I can assess the kind of break and whether Skele-Gro is going to be needed,” Poppy instructed, grimacing at the odd angle Snape’s leg was turned at under the stone.

“Come, yeh two. Yeh shouldn’t even be ‘ere,” Hagrid said as he gently led Harry and Draco back a few feet to give the matron room to work.

“I’m not leaving; let me go!” Harry ground out, trying to yank his arm away from the half-giant. He wanted to see his father wake up, hear him speak, just to be sure he was alright; to be sure he wasn’t dead like everyone else Harry had come to see as a father.

Harry’s line of sight was cut off as Draco moved in front of him, grasping his shoulders and stilling his attempts to pull away from Hagrid, who let go as soon as he saw that Draco had the Gryffindor mostly under control.

“Harry, calm down. Snape’s going to be fine.”

Harry gulped back more tears as he stopped struggling to see around his boyfriend, and instead allowed the blonde to pull him into a tight hug. He let out a shuddering breath as Draco rubbed his back to soothe him.

“It’s alright, love...Everything will be ok,” Draco whispered.

S~S~S~S

It was nearly three in the morning when Harry finally gave up trying to fall asleep. Draco was dozing lightly beside him, only haven fallen asleep an hour or so previously. Harry carefully extracted his arm from under the blonde and got out of bed. He slipped his trainers on and swung his invisibility cloak around his shoulders before using his wand to unward and open the tent, re-warding it as he walked away.

The temporary infirmary was not far from where his and Draco’s tent was set up, and it only took a minute or two for Harry to get there. He quietly spoke the password allowing family members in, and slipped into the little curtained off area that housed the Potions Master.

Harry looked down at his father, shivering as the warming charms on the makeshift infirmary began to fade. He knew the house elves would sense the drop in temperature and come renew the charms, but until then, Harry reached for a folded knit blanket off a pile close by, and draped it over his dad. He grabbed another blanket for himself and wrapped it around his shoulder, over his cloak.

The lank black hair cascading over the impersonal white of the infirmary pillow billowed gently in the small breeze that was the Potions Professor’s breath. Harry continued to stare at the blank expression of unconsciousness on his father’s face, contemplating all the rollercoaster of emotions that had ripped through him in the last twelve hours.

Harry had always thought of his father as invincible, untouchable. Even before the man became his father, he never thought anything could touch Snape. Despite all he had been through with Voldemort, Snape still managed to live on and stay strong. The thought of something as mundane as a boulder taking the man’s life angered Harry. How dare fate cheat him like that? If Severus Snape was going to die, it had better be in an epic battle for his life, a harrowing tale that would be retold time and again for a hundred years or more. Death by a bit of falling stone? Not for Severus Snape!

“Harry?”

The young Gryffindor jumped, despite the softness of the deep voice. He had not noticed his father had awoken while he stared and thought of how unfair fate could be sometimes. “Dad,” Harry sighed in relief. “How are feeling?”

Snape sat up slowly, reaching up to feel a bandage over one side of his head, and realizing that he couldn’t move one of his legs. He tore the blankets away and glared at the splint that was holding his leg in place, the now familiar aches of Skele-Gro gnawing at the mending bones.

“I feel like I was almost crushed by a giant falling stone. Oh – wait.”

Harry sighed heavily and glared at his father, who turned slightly to rearrange his pillows so that he was in a sitting position rather than flat on his back. “Don’t do that. Don’t joke about it. I was terrified,” Harry whispered, grabbing for the Potions Master’s hand.

Severus gave up his annoyed mood and grasped his son’s hand in his own. The genuine look of fear and exhaustion on the boy’s face tore at Severus, and he vowed to never put that look on his child’s face again. “I apologize, Harry. It is not every day you are assaulted by your place of employment.”

“What happened? Remus was too angry with me to answer my questions,” Harry admitted, scuffing his trainer on the tarp below them and looking down at the pattern it made.

“Why would Remus be angry with you?” the Potions Master asked, a suspicious look on his face as Harry avoided his eyes.

Harry explained how he and Draco had stopped the stone that had fallen down the opposite side of the tower from crushing the camp and the rest of the Professors. All through the explanation, Harry could feel his father growing more and more annoyed with him.

“Well, your father is quite right to be upset with you, Harry James Potter. What were you thinking, pulling a stunt like that?”

“I was thinking that I didn’t want anyone else to die! Why is everyone so mad at me for saving everyone’s life – again!?” Harry asked indignantly as he pulled his hand away from his father’s grasp.

“It is not the act itself, Harry, but what you did in order to accomplish it! You left the safety of the wards, deliberately making a break in them that could have put all of your classmates at risk. What if there had been Death Eaters flying close by, just waiting for you to step out of line? The fact that the castle is being re-warded is no secret; I’m fairly positive the Dark Lord indeed has men watching the area. You are extremely lucky that you and Draco weren’t attacked!” Severus hissed, trying to keep himself as calm as possible. He knew his son meant well, but playing the hero was going to get the boy killed, or send Severus to an early grave from worry.

Harry hung his head, realizing that he had not even thought of what making a break in the wards could have done. All he had been thinking of was making sure none of the Professor’s got hurt, and in doing so, he could have gotten his friends and classmates killed. “I’m sorry. I never meant to put anyone at risk.”

Severus sighed heavily and leaned forward, lifting his son’s chin so that he would meet his eyes. “I understand that, son, but you cannot always be the one to save the day. One day, you’ll finally believe me when I tell you that Harry Potter does not need to play the Hero he is made out to be by society. I just hope it is not too late by then. You are not expected to live up to their image of you. I only ask that you take responsibility for your actions and live the life of the sixteen-year-old boy that you are. You are not a hero to me, but my only son, and I cannot bear to lose you.”

Severus was unsurprised when he received an armful of teary Gryffindor, curling up at his side on the narrow hospital bed and burying his face in his hospital robes. He rubbed the boy’s back and held him close, listening as the hiccups grew softer, and the shaking subsided. Harry’s breathing was growing quite deep and even now, and Severus was sure the boy had fallen asleep, until he spoke.

“I’m sorry, Dad. I love you.”

“I love you too, Harry.”