Gryffindor Tower, Hogwarts, September 1996 (20)

Nearly three weeks on and the ache in Harry's stomach had consistently leapfrogged until it was now a fiery nexus of unremitting pain. Between Potions classes, meals in the Great Hall, and frequent chance run-ins with Snape, the castle often felt like a one-room flat. Harry hated it.

The only words passed between the two wizards were in class where Harry gave perfunctory, yet always accurate responses to Snape's queries. At those times Ron and some others glanced at him sideways, but having resided with a Potions master over the summer had its benefits.

For a change, Harry gave up on acting out as it did nothing to relieve his anger or his misery. On the occasions he sat in class immovably silent, he imagined he felt Snape's dark gaze on him, but when he looked up Snape was always otherwise engaged - either writing at his desk or hunched over a student's cauldron inspecting their work. Noting Harry's pining behavior, Hermione offered up some plain-spoken advice.

"If you're so miserable, Harry, talk to him!"

She stopped pushing the issue, though after he stormed away from dinner one night and didn't speak to her for two days. Having already attempted to make peace with Snape, Harry wasn't willing to get burned again.

Friday evening, following a short visit to the hospital wing Harry dragged himself up to his room. Pomfrey had prescribed a different potion to ease his stomach pain, but just like the other two she had given him over the past three weeks, it didn't work. He lay on his bed listening to the ruckus floating up from the common room. A mixed group of fifth and sixth-years were celebrating Hermione's birthday, belatedly. He had wanted to be there - instead he had apologized to her, pleading a headache. When he gave her the bracelet he had ordered by owl, she'd smiled sweetly at him, saying she understood, then shooed him off to bed.

Just as he was beginning to doze, a shout sounded in the stairwell followed by the door crashing open with a resounding boom. Peals of laughter and a few shouts seeped into the room as someone collided into the side of his bed, jostling him.

"Sorry, mate!"

"S'all right." Harry murmured. He pushed his glasses up to rub his eyes. "How's the do?"

"Be better if you were there." Ron eased himself down onto the bed to sit beside Harry. "It'd do you good to get out of here for a bit. Seems like the only time you leave is for class. It's boring already! C'mon!"

"I just don't feel good." Harry moaned then gripped his stomach. It felt as if a battalion of fire ants was charging around, biting and stinging every available bit of flesh.

"You need Pomfrey?" Ron peered down at him anxiously.

The plump nurse had been called to their room once already after Harry's belabored moaning one night had frightened his dorm mates into seeking her out.

"No... I just really wanna go to sleep." Harry closed his eyes, and turned to lie on his stomach; it seemed to dull the burning sensation a bit.

"...All right," Ron said, though clearly, he was still worried. "You'd better be feeling better by tomorrow afternoon, though." He gave Harry a friendly poke on the shoulder. "It's Quidditch tryouts and Angelina... she'll have my head if you don't show up."

"Why?"

"Ah..." Ron's eyebrow twitched nervously. "Well, she thinks your stomach problems are ‘cause we been arguing so much lately. I told her we're fine now..."

"Yeah, we are," Harry mumbled into his pillow, just as relieved they had made up as Ron was.

"Well, I'll get outta your hair," Ron said as Harry's eyes began to flutter shut. He ruffled the scattered mess on Harry's head and just barely avoided being swatted on the nose by the drowsy boy.

*WO

Downstairs the Howlin' Ha'nts howled from the wireless. Seamus performed hand stands for Padma and Parvati Patil while chugging - or choking - on butterbeer from the three bottles he had charmed to release the liquid whenever he tapped them with a finger. Parvati's disinterest was plain as she sat with her arms crossed tightly over her chest, rolling her eyes; Padma - Seamus's true target - sat forward, intrigued, but leery. Dean shook his head at the spectacle then went about trying to engage Ginny in conversation. At the far end of the sofa Luna sat quietly, her legs curled beneath her as she considered Ron who was chatting up a giggling, hair-tossing, Lavender.

Several times Hermione tried to beg off so that she could start her report for Arithmancy. She leaned over to tap Ron on the knee, telling him that if she started now, she could finish it before Hallowe'en.

"But Hermione, it's a hundred pages! And it's not even due ‘til March!"

"Yes, but..." She cast a glance at the stairs leading to the sixth-year boys' dorm; he followed her gaze.

"He's okay," he said softly, then grabbed her hand. "I was just up there, besides, you can't leave. Least not ‘til you have a go at the game Fred and George sent special for you."

Reluctantly, she allowed him to lead her to the sofa nearest the fireplace. Duly trapped between Luna and Dean, Hermione again glanced at the stairs leading to where Harry lay.

*WO

Harry dreamed he was flying, sheltered within a rainbow - but its vivid rays were rife with something terrible and painful, barring him from moving beyond it. As he probed frantically for a way out, he spotted blurry, bobbing shapes of white, red, brown and black beneath him. Then suddenly, his skin caught fire, melting away from his bones in dreadful, grayish clumps - then there was a flash of white, then nothing. The dream made no sense, but the burning in his stomach spiked ten-fold. 

Harry screamed, thinking he would gladly give away the contents of his vault if he could stop waking up in such a dramatic fashion. He knew he'd been heard as the sudden hush of the revelry downstairs was followed by a stampede of feet pounding up the stairs; soon, a crowd of concerned, anxious faces circled his bed.

"Harry!"

"Hermione?" Harry gasped.

"Yes, what's wrong?" She rushed to join him on his bed; he groaned, grateful for her touch when she grasped his hand.

"Merlin, mate, we thought you were being murdered!" Ron croaked. "You okay?"

"No..."

"What do you need?" Ginny asked; Harry threw up.

"Oh, urgh!" Seamus dry heaved then covered his eyes. "I'll go get Pomfrey!"

"No!" Harry moaned. "Snape..."

"Who?" Neville yelped.

"You heard him!" Hermione snapped. "Someone go get Snape!"

*WO

Snape strode into the room prompting Ron to edge most everybody out, save Neville, Dean, and Ginny. Pale and sweaty, Harry continued to moan and thrash about. Having spelled away the mess he'd made, Hermione sat curled up next to him, clasping his hands in hers. She rose to allow Snape to sit, but remained standing close behind him.

"Potter!" said Snape. Ignoring Hermione's shocked inhalation Snape clenched his jaw, then laid a hand on Harry's chest, attempting to still the boy's movements. "Potter..." he repeated, but with less bite.

Harry's eyes snapped open to find Snape frowning down at him. He launched himself at the man, clutching his arm, and burying his face in Snape's chest.

Snape stiffened, but Harry didn't care; nor did he care about the loud, puzzled gasps from his Housemates: it had been a long, hard three weeks of scathing comments and cold-shoulders - he needed this.

"What's troubling you?" Snape asked quietly.

"My stomach." Harry whimpered, tears threatening to fall.

"Lie back," Snape said. Harry obeyed instantly.

Snape parted Harry's robes and began to gently probe the area below his ribs. Harry inhaled sharply but the pain was not as bitingly intense as it had been. Satisfied nothing was broken, swollen, or bruised, Snape rested his narrow hand again on Harry's chest.

"You've been to see Madam Pomfrey?"

Harry nodded. "She gave me a Stomach Calming Draught..."

"Yet the pain is still great?" Snape's brow crinkled in concern.

"No. It's better now actually."

"How long have you been hurting?"

Harry reached to fiddle with the cuff of Snape's robe. "I... er..."

"Potter..."

"Three - uh, two wee -"

Snape's eyebrows rose to meet his hairline. "You've been carrying on like this for weeks?"

"M-maybe not that long. A-a couple days... or so?"

Hearing the lie in Harry's voice, Snape gazed at him so intently, the boy blushed. Harry wondered, not for the first time, what it was that Snape found so fascinating when he looked at him like that - as if he was having the devil of a time trying to figure him out.

"Er, s' Harry all right, sir?" Seamus said, as Snape and Harry seemed to have forgotten others were in the room.

"He'll be fine," said Snape, his eyes roving over Harry's flushed face. "But you all need to step outside."

"I'm not going anywhere!" Ron said.

Snape twisted around and said, "Mr. Weasley, you will leave this room."

"And if I don't?"

Neville, who had watched the exchange between Harry and Snape with great interest murmured, "C'mon, Ron." He then gripped the taller boy's arm in an attempt to get Ron to move toward the door.

"He can't make me leave; this is my room!" Ron said, wrenching free of Neville.

"If I have to repeat myself, you and I shall be in each other's company, every weekend until final exams," Snape said, eyeing Ron beadily.

"Ron!" Harry interjected, when the redhead opened his mouth to retort. He thought it wise to cut the boy off before he ended up having to live in the dungeons to complete all the detentions he was sure to get. "Go, I'll be okay."

Ron shot a nasty glance at Snape before responding to Ginny's hand on his arm. "I'll be back in fifteen minutes, Harry..." he said then followed his sister out.

Hermione, red-eyed and worried, sniffed softly. Harry felt awful. This night was to have been about her. When he gave her an apologetic look she reached to touch his foot in assurance. The last to leave, she glanced back before stepping out of the room. Snape watched until the door clicked closed then turned back to Harry. He seemed angry.

"Why did you send for me instead of Madam Pomfrey?"

"I told you... the potion she gave me... it didn't work... sir." Harry toyed restlessly with his tie, avoiding Snape's eyes.

"I daresay she would have given you something more effective had you inquired."

"I s'pose... I just... I just... Sir?" Harry grimaced as he pushed up to rest his back against the headboard. "What did I do?"

"Do?" Snape reached into his robes and pulled two vials from his pocket. He shook one lightly then held it up to eye its contents.

"To make you hate me - again?"

Snape stilled then slowly lowered his hand to his lap.

"Because, I know you're mad at Dumbledore, but what did I do? I mean, I get that you were mad at me for coming up to the castle that night, and I'm really sorry for doing it - I know it was stupid, that something could have happened, and that Dumbledore would have blamed you, but I - I was worried ‘cause you were so upset... And then, since school started, I know I've been a real idiot -"

Snape held up a hand to stay Harry's rambling mea culpa.

"First," he said, "coming up to the castle was utterly wrongheaded, but my concern was not that the headmaster would blame me if something happened to you. Second, you needn't concern yourself with whether I'm angry at the headmaster or him with me. And as for you being ‘a real idiot', well... you're not alone." He finished quietly.

 "Then, why?" Harry sat forward. Demanding green eyes bored into black until Snape looked down. 

"I have my reasons, Potter, but hating you isn't one of them."

"But, you changed the charm on your door," Harry blurted, still not convinced. "I couldn't get in."

Snape flushed. "I had no reason to suspect that you would need, or want access to my quarters."

"Oh," Harry said, slumping back against his pillow. "I guess I was just used to being able to come and go, and... I was hoping you'd change your mind about training together."

"Yes, about that... The headmaster says you've disregarded his every request to meet with him."

"I don't need to meet with him," Harry said. "I've been practicing on my own, mostly here in the dorm." He looked suddenly impish.

His dorm mates were all well aware of his wandless magic, had been since the first week of term. They didn't mind it so long as they weren't asked to consciously participate in any of his ‘mad experiments' as Seamus had dubbed them. Initially, they had been deeply impressed, even offering to take an oath of secrecy. They had also encouraged him to try out some of his magic on them, but that free-wheeling feeling quickly cooled after Seamus had had to explain away his unusually rosy lips and doe-like lashes to curious classmates one day.

"I really didn't think it was that noticeable," Dean had said, trying not to laugh in his friend's face. "Did you, N-Neville?"

"Not really, no..." Neville had insisted, though he was determinedly looking everywhere but at Seamus.

That evening, after witnessing the fuming boy stomp out of the Great Hall to a colorful litany of catcalls, Harry, along with Ron, had wisely chosen to visit Charlie after dinner. Charlie had tried to get rid of them after an hour, claiming he had a shipment of Blast-Ended Skrewts coming at dawn, but Harry and Ron dug in, wanting to stay until the spell wore off. They hoped to be spared the worst of Seamus's notorious Irish wrath. It was well after midnight before they finally ventured out to return to the dorm. Charlie was none too pleased for having to escort them up to the castle. He kept muttering loudly about how he hoped Seamus spelled them bald.

"The guys are fine with it," Harry said. "Although, Neville nearly skinned me for catching his rare Flitterbloom on fire."

Snape raised his eyebrows.

"I was trying to cast a non-verbal Flame-Freezing charm."

"Proof you are still in dire need of guidance." Snape swiped a hand over his eyes.

"Not if it means I have to work with Dumbledore!" Harry threw his arms across his chest.

Snape regarded him a moment, then said, "You won't... You shall train with me."

"Oh," said Harry, his tone flat and dismissive. Then he replayed Snape's words. "Oh!" he said, eyes widening in happy surprise. "Great! I mean - good," he finished, as nonchalantly as he could, though his lips were turned up into a smile.

Snape cleared his throat. "Yes, well, be prepared to work hard."

"I will," Harry said. "So, Dumbledore's all right with it?"

Snape cleared his throat. "He will be."

"What -"

"Just let me handle things, please."

Snape had begun clasping and un-clasping his hands. He quickly stretched them out, forcing them into stillness on his thighs. Frowning, Harry leaned forward, preparing to take the man's hands in his; Snape snatched them out of his reach.

Harry looked at him, concerned. "Are they bothering you?"

"No, Potter... I'm fine.  Now, your stomach." Snape's tone was all business.

"It's better," Harry said. In fact the burning had subsided to a bearably dull ache the instant Snape said they would resume training together.

"Miss Granger never let on that anything of the sort -"

"I didn't tell her," Harry said. "I made Ron promise not to tell her either because I knew she was telling you things about me..." He began twisting his fingers together nervously. "So, you were worried about me?"

 Just as Snape opened his mouth to respond, something hit the door, making them jump in alarm.

"Oof! Bloody hell! Harry! Why d'you lock the door?" Ron. He began to rattle the doorknob furiously. "Harry? You in there?" He began to pound on the door.

"Ron!" Harry called. "I'm fine!"

"Then why's the door locked!?"

Harry raised an eyebrow at Snape who, evading Harry's gaze, casually eased his left leg over his right; he then began to study his robes, picking at non-existent lint. Continuing his tirade outside, Ron was soon joined by other voices.

"He says he's all right, but why lock the door?"

"Ron, just leave him be!"

"Hermione! He's locked in there - with Snape!"

"So?! Come on!"

"No! Either he's comin' out or I'm goin' in! Alohomora!"

"Ron..."

"ALOHOMORA!" A loud thud sounded against the solid pine door, followed by a pained grunt.

"Ron!" Hermione sounded beyond exasperated. Harry sat wide-eyed, poised to leap off the bed.

There was another thud, followed by another and another, in quick succession. Finally, Snape waved his hand at the door and all fell silent.

"I should go check on him." Harry scooted to the foot of the bed.

"No, you shouldn't." Snape seized the back of Harry's robes to drag him back up the bed. He then pressed Harry down onto his pillows.

"But Ron -"

"- shall be fine. You need to rest." Snape held out to Harry one of the bottles he had pulled from his pocket. "Drink."

"But, I feel better now. It's not burning like -"As Snape's eyebrow travelled upward, Harry quickly grabbed the bottle and put it to his lips.

"Three sips now, three sips when you wake." Snape rose to go.

"Wait!" Harry sputtered, choking on the bit of bitter liquid he had yet to swallow.

"What now, Potter?"

Despite Snape's harassed look, Harry longed to ask the man to stay until he fell asleep. But as quickly as the thought formed, it was lost to the fast-acting effects of the potion; the vial nearly slipped through his fingers as drowsiness overtook him. Lighting quick, Snape palmed the small bottle before it could fall.

Harry was desperate to communicate: "Don't go, yet... Stay... p'ease," he murmured. When Snape didn't reply, Harry tried lifting his eyelids to see if the man had gone, but they felt as though someone had taped them shut, so he settled for whispering, "Don' go..."

Frozen as if someone had cast Petrificus Totalus on him, Snape stared at Harry, taking the boy in from head to toe. When his eyes began to burn, he shifted his attention to the rickety nightstand next to Harry's bed. Its nicked surface held a rusted red lantern, Harry's wand, and a photo of Harry, Hermione, and Ron laughing. Beside that was a slightly larger photo of James and Lily, beaming as they held a giggling, black-haired baby in their arms; baby Harry squirmed and grinned toothlessly as they tickled his rounded belly. Snape's gaze lingered on Lily momentarily, but it was the last item on the nightstand that caused him to lose his breath: resting just in front of the photo of Harry and his parents was a small seashell of white and tan spirals.

Snape's legs gave out and he collapsed gracelessly onto the bed next to Harry. He began to shiver uncontrollably - chilled at sight of that shell; chilled at its obvious significance to the boy, and chilled at his own behavior since that meeting with Dumbledore.

That night, as Snape had trekked through the Forbidden Forest back to Hogsmeade, he had done to himself what he had done expertly and with clear malice to countless others during his stint as a Death Eater and since Voldemort's ‘rebirth': He had lied. He had convinced himself that Dumbledore was right, that nothing good could come of his continued involvement with Harry - especially not with the dark shadow of the prophecy's origins looming. Undoubtedly, he could look after the boy at a distance as he had always done, but the past few weeks had proved how difficult that would be, if not impossible.

‘Harry has rather a knack for insinuating his way into one's heart.'

Harry snuffled softly as those damning words echoed in Snape's head. Trembling, he reached to gently smooth Harry's dampened fringe off his forehead. Lingering a moment, he pressed the back of his hand lightly to the flushed skin immediately below Harry's hairline; he was warm, but not alarmingly so. Still, Snape loosened the red and gold tie to remove it, then with a practiced ease, he gently maneuvered Harry's limp body to divest him of his robe. Lastly, he removed Harry's glasses and shoes before standing so that he could pull the covers up over the boy.

Making a contented sound, Harry burrowed down into the bed, bringing his knees up as he always did so that he could curl around them. One wandering knee connected sharply with Snape's hipbone. 

"Potter..." Snape growled softly. Then with a decidedly steady hand he began to caress Harry's hair again.

*WO

Sixth Year Boy's Dorm, Gryffindor Tower, Hogwarts, September 1996

"What happened after I left for the hospital wing?" Ron asked next morning.

"Not much. We sat around waiting to see how Harry was," Dean said. "What'd you tell Pomfrey?"

"That I got banged up in Quidditch practice." Ron rolled his shoulder, testing that the soreness was gone.

"How odd, considering tryouts are today," Dean said, so focused on the sketch pad resting against his knee, he missed Ron flipping two fingers his way.

"Snape was up here a really long time," said Neville.

"The party was done for anyway, ‘specially after Harry's nightm -"

"Blimey, Seamus!" Ron exclaimed.

"S'all right," said Harry.

"Why so cheerful, Harry?" Neville asked.

"Yeah, mate," Dean said. "You been grinnin' like Hagrid in a room full of baby dragons since you woke up... What gives?"

"I have not!" Harry protested half-heartedly, snickering at the image of Hagrid dashing about madly to shift snarling baby dragons from one smoking cot to one not yet on fire. "I'm just glad the pain is gone. I slept really well, too - for once."

"Yeah, we rather appreciate not having to wake up to your screeching solos," Ron teased, easily ducking Harry's flying pillow. He swiftly batted it back in Harry's direction, hitting him plumb in the face, knocking his glasses off.

"Ow!"

"Well, I'm goin' to shower and then down to breakfast ‘fore they quit servin'," Seamus said, leaping off his bed. With a mischievous smirk, he said, "You best be that quick out on the pitch, Weasley!"

"Sod off, Finnigan!"

Neville and Dean gathered their things for the shower as well, chatting amiably on their way out of the room. With a happy exhale Harry resettled his glasses and lay back, luxuriating in the feel of the sun's morning rays and the knowledge that Snape didn't hate him. Quidditch tryouts could not have come at a better time. Harry felt like flying loops around the moon!

*WO

On their way out to the pitch, Harry and the boys - along with Hermione and Ginny - ran into Draco Malfoy. Flanked by his ever present beefy entourage, he looked, if possible, worse than he had that day on Diagon Alley.

Since term began, the Slytherin had been uncharacteristically subdued, strangely eschewing any attempts to antagonize Harry or his friends. Engrossed with how things were seemingly failing with Snape, Harry had paid no attention to Draco's behavior until Ron remarked upon it.

"Bit weird, isn't it?" Ron had asked in hushed tones one day while they sat, bored, in History of Magic.

"What?" Hermione inquired, eyes glued to her parchment as she scribbled down every word Binns intoned.

"Malfoy. He's not been himself. You know, annoying, hateful... Malfoy."

With chin in hand, Harry entertained himself by watching the whirlwind of dust motes above Neville's head. The round-faced boy kept running his fingers through his hair in frustration with one hand, while taking furious notes with the other, obviously struggling to keep up with Binns' wheezing narrative.

"So? All the better for us," Harry said then started doodling once the dust storm began to settle.

"Well, yeah, but what's wrong with him?"

"Ron, if you're so concerned - go ask him, if not, be quiet!" Hermione hissed.

Unmoved by Hermione's outburst Ron said: "Doesn't he look... off or something?"

Since Ron wasn't likely to let the subject drop Harry took a moment to glance over at the blond boy. Draco did look wanner and thinner since their encounter in front of Madam Malkin's, but Harry didn't find it particularly concerning; Draco was thin, wan and had Lucius Malfoy for a father - he should look like hell.

But, squinting, Harry determined that the dark shadows seen in profile below the boy's eyes were unusual, making him look ragged and bruised. Harry's gaze drifted lower to Draco's hands perched upon the desk; they were trembling slightly. Suddenly, Draco turned. Both boys started when their eyes met. Draco's blank gaze turned anxious, but Harry's eyes widened with shock. The Slytherin looked even worse than Harry had imagined!

"Blimey!" Ron whispered. Hearing the disquiet in Ron's voice, Hermione looked up from her notes and gasped. With all three Gryffindors' eyes on him, Draco paled - a feat within itself considering how ghostly he already looked. He quickly twisted back to face the front of the class.

"You're right, Ron!" Hermione said, sounding horrified.

"Yeah, I - What?" Ron yelped, garnering some interested glances from his vacant-eyed classmates.

"Malfoy looks positively dreadful!" Hermione said. "Goodness! What could be wrong with him?"

They had then spent the rest of class, heads together, whispering about that day on Diagon Alley and Draco's curious behavior with his father. But now, in the hallway, they were shocked - not by his appearance, but by him asking to have a word with Harry.

"Being around You-Know-Who this summer must have messed your mind Malfoy if you think for one bloody second that Harry wants to talk to you!" Ron leaned his bulk toward the slighter Slytherin; Crabbe and Goyle tensed, but made no defensive moves on Draco's behalf.

"Heel boy, before I alert the Ministry of rabid weasels running amok in the castle!" Draco sneered, the familiar Malfoy haughtiness rising to the fore.

"Why you pinch-faced son-of-a -!"

"What do you want, Malfoy?" Harry said, stepping between the two boys.

"Just a word, Potter."

Draco's desire to speak with Harry alone was obvious in the way his gray eyes darted warily between Harry and the others. Though equally wary, Harry couldn't deny he was curious of what the boy had to say. He turned and told the others to continue on to the pitch without him.

"Harry..." Hermione said.

"It's fine. Go on, I'll catch up."

Ron grumbled and threw suspicious glances over his shoulder as the small group of Gryffindors headed slowly toward the Entrance Hall. Inclining his head slightly, Draco sent Crabbe and Goyle on their way, as well.

"What do you want?" said Harry, making sure his wand was visible. He still made use of it in classes, thinking it no one's business that he could perform magic without it; he was satisfied that those he wanted to know about his wandless magic already knew.

"You won't need that." Draco nodded at the wand.

"I can decide that for myself, thanks. What do you want, Malfoy?"

"Keep - keep an eye out for yourself."

Harry snorted. "You don't like me and last term you couldn't wait to join up with Umbridge's little club of sadists and snitches to try and get me booted out of here - or worse. Why the sudden concern?"

Draco blanched. "Just... trust me on this, Potter."

Unimpressed with the boy's urgent tone and laughable request to ‘trust' him, Harry started away, eager to be outside with his friends. He growled in irritation when Draco rushed to stand in front of him, putting a hand to his chest.

"Look, Potter, do you really think I'd -"

"Lie? Yeah, I do, Malfoy. Now, move!" Harry's gaze turned steely as he knocked Draco's hand away, but the Slytherin stood his ground.

"My father," Draco whispered harshly, turning even paler as he looked about, nervous, "he and my aunt are planning something involving you, and I know I don't need to tell you how eager either one of them are to please the Dark Lord! So, I'm telling you, be careful."

Just then, a stream of puffy-eyed late-risers sauntered down the stairs, headed to the Great Hall for a bite or beyond to start their day. Ignoring the influx, Harry calmly considered Draco; the same could not be said of the Slytherin.

Draco was a study in fear, and at that moment he seemed powerless to control it. He twitched as though he expected to be hexed at any second, he was unusually sweaty, and his breathing was irregular. Add to that, Harry had been around the boy long enough to know when he was lying. Befitting his personality, Draco was brazenly predatory, always eager to witness the consequences his lie exacted upon whoever had displeased him, but there was no hint of that cocksureness now, only an unnerving earnestness that made Harry wonder why he was telling him this, why he was risking being seen talking to Harry when it clearly made him uneasy?

Holding Draco's skittish gaze, Harry caught a crystal vision of Lucius and Bellatrix in an impeccable, but coldly designed room. The fire blazing in the imposing black marble fireplace did nothing to imbue the space with warmth. Numerous torches illuminated the room's ‘walls' which were actually towers of gleaming mahogany shelves lined with books, some of whose spines looked spun from silk, while older tomes fairly sparked with Dark Magic. Amid all that cool decadence sat Lucius, positioned regally behind a massive mahogany desk as long as two chaise lounges and as wide as Uncle Vernon and Dudley put together. Bellatrix, clad in silken robes of violet, with her shiny black hair swept up to rest at the nape of her neck, stalked restlessly back and forth before Lucius, her small hands clawing and stabbing the air as she spoke; her mad eyes and twisted mouth marred her beauty utterly.

Finally, Draco closed his eyes, severing the connection. When he opened them, he looked a bit awestruck, but also strangely relieved.

"I'm not lying," he said.

Harry knew that; the memory was flawless and fluid, exactly as Snape had said a true memory would be, but he wasn't about to admit that to Draco.

 "I don't care," he said. "In any case, you don't need to worry about me. I'm fine."

"...I know." Draco's jaw clenched and a strange flash of hurt filled his gray eyes before he turned to walk away.

Puzzled by that, Harry shook his head. Then before he could stop himself, he called out, "Malfoy!" Draco turned back. "You okay?"

Draco's gray eyes widened with surprise, then resumed their typical snarky slant when Blaise Zabini and Pansy Parkinson exited the Great Hall.

"Never better, Potter," Draco called back, having conjured up the smirk that reminded Harry of the boy he had met in Madam Malkin's all those years ago. Draco then put his hands in his trousers' pockets and strode away, Pansy between him and Blaise.  

*WO

At dinner that night, Harry was hard pressed to keep his eyes off the High Table. He was pleased to see Snape in his seat, looking typically severe as he scanned the room. Though his black eyes were on the prowl for the slightest hint of trouble-making, Harry thought the man looked more relaxed than he had done in recent days. 

"You gonna tell Dumbledore what Malfoy said?" Ron asked around a mouthful of peas.

"No, but I'll mention it to Snape," Harry said. Ron nearly gagged on his tongue.

"Look, I know you got issues with Dumbledore, but he can at least have the Order look into it, see if there's something there."

"Something where?" asked Hermione, slamming a small tower of books onto the table.

"Malfoy's ‘warning,'" Ron said, eyes sweeping over the books. "That about Gryffindors?" He pointed his fork at the spine of a thick tome bearing a griffin and the title Llyfr Gwyn Rhydderch.

"No, it's a book of Welsh legends. It has information on the Adar Llwch Gwin, a giant mythological bird that can speak."

"What did you find out?" Harry asked, scooting close to look over her shoulder at the opened book.

"Nothing really any different from what Hagrid told you, though they seem to fancy Bugbears as a snack."

"I just hope he's all right, that he hasn't been captured or... anything," Harry said.

"We'd know, either way," Hermione said confidently. "Dumbledore wouldn't keep that secret from us."

"Charlie's been pretty tight-lipped about how long he'll be teachin' Hagrid's classes," Ron said. "He must not be coming back any time soon."

"Mr. Potter."

Harry jumped, upsetting his goblet of pumpkin juice. Hermione scrambled for her wand to clear up the orange liquid before it reached her books. Harry twisted around in his seat certain Snape would be right behind him.

"Mr. Potter, up here."

Harry turned his attention to the High Table. Snape was seated in his chair, delicately spooning vegetable soup into his mouth.

"Meet me outside the Room of Requirement at 8 p.m. Make use of your Cloak."

"Harry, mate, you all right?" Ron asked, frowning as he reached across to right Harry's goblet.

"Yeah, I'm... yeah."

"Harry?"

"S' okay, Hermione. Snape wants to start training tonight," Harry said.

"Oh? You've spoken since this afternoon? When I asked you about it earlier -"

"He just told me," Harry said, with a chuckle.

Hermione and Ron glanced at each other. "Just told you?" Ron echoed, concerned.

"Legilimency."

"But, you need eye contact for that!" Ron said.

"I know," said Harry, with a shrug.

"Bloody hell," Ron whispered, casting a furtive glance up at the Potions master.

*WO

Room of Requirement, Hogwarts, September 1996 (21)

Harry stepped into the Room of Requirement, thinking that the space could have been plucked right out of Grimmauld Place, but mid-step, it shifted and he found himself in an even more familiar setting: the land surrounding Soth-ince. He inhaled deeply - it even smelled of the garden and the sea. The only things missing were Fang and the cottage. Snape raised his eyebrows in surprise.

"Why'd it change?" Harry asked.

"You need to be comfortable in your surroundings," Snape said. "It adapted." He shrugged off his outer robes. "Let's begin."

Eager to move beyond the hardship of the past few weeks, Harry intuited that Snape felt similarly and they quickly fell back into the easy rhythm they had established in Cornwall. After fifteen minutes of Harry levitating a range of objects from a quill to a piece of deadwood the size of the Whomping Willow, the two wizards then engaged in a mock battle where Harry ended up suspended high above the ground, laughingly screeching for Snape to let him down. The man had unleashed a tickling charm on the boy, midair.

"Really," Harry gasped, "I'm... gonna... be s-sick... please!"

Snape slowly righted Harry and gently set him on his feet, lifting the charm.

"What was that for?" Harry asked, trying to catch his breath, but grinning widely.

"I would have thought it was obvious," Snape said quietly, his somber air at odds with what he had just done.

"Give me a hint," Harry said, fingering his ribs where the tickling had been most intense.

"Potter, I am a man of few words when it comes to - certain matters and the charm was my effort at... Was a way to say that... To clarify that I am -"

"I'm sorry, too," Harry blurted, looking sheepish, but relieved. He donned his robes which he had shed as the session had grown more intense. "And, I wanted to thank you for coming to my room last night," he said.

"It was nothing, Potter." Snape muttered.

"It was to me. You could have sent Seamus away, sent him after Pomfrey, but you didn't, you came."

Snape cleared his throat. "Yes, well... You needn't be overly -"

"Plus, I really appreciated you looking after me this summer -" Harry trailed him to the door as they prepared to leave.

"I hadn't much choice in the matter -"

"- because I really learned a lot, and I hope I'm making you proud in class, and... I don't hate you, I don't. I-I should never have said that. It was stupid, really -" Harry took a breath "- stupid."

The room reverberated with silence as Snape stood, dumbfounded. When after long moment he hadn't moved or spoken, Harry moved toward him, concerned.

"Sir?" Harry waved his hand before Snape's eyes. "Professor?"

Blinking rapidly, Snape came back to himself, and said, "I'm all right."

"Where'd you go?"

"Nowhere, Potter. I'm fine."

"Okay. Well, I just... I wanted to apologize for acting like a world class tit. I was mad and hurt that you wouldn't tell me what Dum -" Harry waved his hand dismissively. "Anyway, I hope we're okay now." He searched Snape's eyes. "Are we... okay?"

Snape dipped his head sharply. "Yes, Potter, we're fine."

Harry grinned, his green eyes sparkling brilliantly.

Snape groaned and reached to open the door. "Stop that!"

Harry laughed, then his expression turned serious. "Sir?"

"Mmm?"

"Malfoy - I don't know why - but, he told me that his father and Bellatrix are planning something."

Snape nodded gravely. "Yes, he shared the same news with me as well."

Harry grimaced. "I don't like being talked about behind my back, especially by the likes of Malfoy. I don't need his fake concern. It's just... weird," Harry said, hijacking Ron's description of Draco's behavior.

Snape frowned. "He has had an equally trying summer." Harry shrugged carelessly. "You are aware that suffering is not unique to you?" Snape added.

Harry reddened. "I know that..."

"Then you should also know that horrifying experiences can forge a profound change in one's character, no matter how reprehensible you might find that person to be."

Harry watched the man step carefully out into the corridor. After judging the coast to be clear, Snape motioned for Harry to don his Cloak and leave. As he rounded the corner, losing sight of Snape, Harry replayed the man's words. He knew Snape was right, but that didn't mean he trusted Draco, or would ever - there were some things that just could not be forgiven. Besides, what ‘profound change' could have wrought such a character shift in Malfoy that he was warning Harry about his father?

*WO

Sixth Year Boy's Dorm, Gryffindor Tower, Hogwarts, October 1996 (10)

The sixth-year boy's dorm was quiet. Unable to sleep, Harry was having a bit of fun in the guise of practicing his magic.

"How long you gon' keep doin' that?" asked Ron, half-way asleep.

"'Til it stops wobbling," Harry said.

"Well, if it's not within the next five seconds," Dean said, matter-of-factly, "you're sleeping in the common room."

Harry sighed. "Fine." With a wave of his hand, he gently lowered Seamus's bed, the boy still snoring softly, undisturbed behind its curtains. Then Harry grabbed his pillow and blanket, secreting his Invisibility Cloak in the bundle.

"Where you goin'?" Neville asked, peeking out over his covers.

"To the common room," Harry lied.

"Again?"

"Yeah. Go back to sleep, Neville," Harry whispered, extinguishing the lights. He closed the door softly cutting off the sound of Ron's deepening snores.

Harry knocked on the great oak door to Snape's quarters, hoping the man had not been too long asleep. Seconds later the door fell open to reveal the sleepy-eyed man in a hastily donned black cotton dressing gown. Seeing Snape's long, pale feet sticking out from his pajama bottoms, Harry felt a momentary pang of guilt for rousing him from his bed, but he didn't fancy lying in his dorm wide awake all night.

"Potter... You all right?" Snape's voice was gravelly with sleep and concern as he ran a hand through his hair.

Shuffling his stockinged feet Harry said, "Yeah, I'm driving my dorm mates mad though." "May I sleep here, please?"

Snape grunted and stood aside. "You know where the spare room is." As Harry started down the hallway Snape said, "Potter?" Harry stopped and turned around. "Why do you insist on sleeping here two nights out of the week? This has been going on since Miss Granger's party..."

Harry shrugged shyly. "I just sleep better down here... I don't mean to be a problem..."

Snape cleared his throat and moved his head in what could have been a negative way.

"You are not a problem. Just... use your password from now on."

"Okay! Thanks, sir," Harry said, grinning.

Snape growled and rolled his eyes as he headed toward his own room. "Good night, Potter."

"G'night!"