Disclaimer: JK Rowling's characters.

Hogwarts, March 1997

Hermione and Ron went to fetch Harry the day Pomfrey released him from the hospital wing. When the nurse told them they had just missed him, they scoured the castle for the boy, but after an hour with no sign of him they went to Dumbledore. Snape was there, his lean black-clad form positioned stonily in front of the fire. He was quick to show them his back when they entered the room, but not quick enough-Hermione had glimpsed his troubled expression. Alarmed, she opened her mouth to ask if Harry was all right, but Dumbledore spoke first saying that Charlie had sent along a message to him and to Snape: Harry was at Hagrid's hut, speaking with Aberforth.

Relieved, Ron and Hermione dashed back to the Tower to wait. Minutes passed like hours as Ron paced. After twenty minutes, he suggested they go look for Harry. Hermione refused, certain he would show up any moment. When Harry did finally arrive, the common room was nearly deserted, and he was shivering. Frantic by that point, Hermione raced to embrace him; Ron chucked a big charm-warmed blanket around his shoulders and asked if he was okay. Harry met his eyes and said, "I will be." Yet for days after he stumped about the castle in a funk.

Few dared approach him. Even Slytherins gave him a wide berth if caught alone with him in a corridor, but once they were out of earshot, they vowed to "do something about the nutter" if Snape didn't. But outside of Potions class and meals, Harry and Snape rarely crossed paths. Harry went to great pains to keep it that way.

His Invisibility Cloak proved handy to that end, but trying to keep track of an invisible boyfriend as they went about the castle vexed Hermione. Still, Harry insisted the magical material worked double-duty-shielding him from gossip-thirsty students curious about his latest ‘melt down' and from Snape's concerned glances. Harry hated those glances, same as he hated the man. Yet, night after night his shrill screams for the man shattered the sleeping silence of his dorm as images of Snape being tortured or killed plagued the Gryffindor's dreams. Ron tried to be a comfort, but the nightmares persisted.

Harry often stumbled into his morning classes so exhausted he sometimes fell asleep at his desk. The times he dozed off in Potions, Snape woke him by softly tapping him on the head-something he had always done when Harry had fallen asleep on the sofa or on the floor of the sitting room in the dungeons. Then, that gentle touch had always been followed by the boy's cat-like stretches and satisfied grunts. Now, it wreaked havoc, making Harry screech and flail about in his bid to escape it. Snape never managed to suppress a grimace when that happened.

Hermione asked Harry about it one evening, why he behaved as he did when Snape touched him, but he would have rather died than admit why he acted as if Snape's touch was poison. The truth? Those touches, in league with those dark-eyed glances of concern, sapped Harry's will, weakened him.

So, he stopped going to Potions.

McGonagall confronted him after he missed a week's worth of the class, suggesting he speak with Snape about what to do to catch up. Harry politely, but firmly told her he had better things to do than sit around listening to a murderer lecturing on ways to become an even cleverer one. At his tone, McGonagall turned the color of chalk.

"It's clear that whatever is going on between you two has affected you deeply," she said, "but it has taken quite the toll on Severus, as well."

Harry knew that. The man seemed to grow gaunter with each passing day, a thing Harry guiltily attributed to their troubles. But he also suspected that something outside the castle was adding to the man's stress. Harry tried convincing himself that he was overreacting, that Dumbledore wouldn't allow Snape off school grounds for any reason, especially if it involved Voldemort, but when Snape began missing the occasional dinner, Harry's imagination ran wild, concocting all manner of scenarios of what the man might be up to outside the castle; those same scenarios morphed into the nightmares that made sleep impossible.

"Mate, you're at it again," Ron said at breakfast one morning.

Harry jumped. "What?"

"You're watching him."

"Who?" Harry scowled and quickly turned his gaze downward. He snatched up his fork to poke at the dried out piece of toast he had ignored since Ron tossed it onto his plate fifteen minutes ago.

"Don't be daft." Ron slung his book bag over his shoulder and stood up. "We're gonna be late for Binns. Hermione's left already."

Harry vaguely recalled her planting a kiss on his cheek and saying that she would see them in class; he'd been too engrossed with watching the two wizards at the High Table. Snape had a free period after breakfast on Tuesdays, so he lingered this morning, engaged in what looked like an intense discussion with Dumbledore; their white and black heads were nearly touching as they talked.

"C'mon," Ron said. He tugged at Harry's shoulder.

Harry got up. After one last glance up at the High Table, he followed Ron out.

*WO

Gryffindor Tower, Hogwarts, April 1997 (04)

Harry's things were still in the dungeons. Thinking the Gryffindor's attitude toward Snape ridiculous, Draco had refused to bring them to him when Harry asked; he did relent to bring Harry his wand and books so he could carry on studying, though Harry didn't know if he had done it at Snape's urging or if the boy had truly been concerned about his studies, but he supposed it didn't matter.

Harry's dorm mates came through in the pinch, too. Seamus, being closer to his size than Neville or Dean, had graciously offered to share his clothes with Harry, but the time came, when tired of the boy hitching at his trousers - Seamus's trousers - Ron had snapped at him to send Hedwig to Madam Malkin's: "Harry, you have the Galleons to buy the whole bloody store if you want! Buy some proper clothes!"

On his way back from the owlery he spied Hermione and Snape talking in one of the sixth floor corridors. The sight of them together was nothing new, but every time he saw them, an annoyed anger gnawed at his gut because he knew he was the topic of their conversation.

The night he had arrived back at Gryffindor Tower after leaving the hospital wing, Hermione had gently badgered him into telling her and Ron what had caused the flare up with Snape. Having witnessed Harry's rage first-hand, she hoped ridding himself of the story would temper the anger that lingered.

Reluctant, and obviously hating to relive it, Harry let the story seep out. Ron sat, strangely mute, but the eye rolls, clenched jaw, and arms crossed tightly over his chest made clear his feelings for Snape and the man's connection to the prophecy. Hermione had leapt to her feet, furious, dead set on confronting the man. Harry had stopped her, saying, "Just leave it. He's not worth it." But, Hermione had refused to let things lie. The next day she went to Snape's quarters.

"Professor? May I speak with you, please?"

"Come in." Snape gestured toward the sofa as they made their way into the sitting room. "Please, sit down."

"Thank you, but what I have to say won't take long."

"...Ah."

"Harry told Ron and me what happened between you two. How could you keep a thing like that from him?"

Snape stooped to pick up a small vial from the coffee table. He turned it over, as if inspecting its bottom; Hermione didn't fail to notice the way his hands trembled.

"I understand that you two are very close," he said quietly, "but this is a matter between Harry and me."

"That may be, but... I'd like to know your side of things so I can defend you to him."

Snape's eyes narrowed in confused disbelief. "Defend me?"

"Well, yes." Hermione sounded surprised. "You want him back in your life don't you?"

"Miss Granger -"

"Sir, don't deny you need help fixing this!"

"Miss -"

"As powerful as Harry is, he can't carry on like this, bottling up his feelings. He's angry with you, and he truly wants to believe that he hates you, but you must know that being apart from you is killing him -"

"Miss Granger," Snape said sharply, "I warn you -"

"NO!" Hermione stamped her foot, unmoved by his menacing glare. "I warned you! In that letter I wrote you last summer, I begged you, begged you not to hurt him and you've very nearly destroyed him!"

The sliver of control Snape had tried to manage since Hermione mentioned Harry broke.

"Don't you think I know what I've done?!" He flung the vial against the fireplace, shattering it. "I know exactly what I've done! I know exactly... Ahh! Damn it! Damn it!" He dug the heels of his hands into his eyes and stumbled backward a couple of paces. "Oh, my God, I never meant to hurt him!"

Hermione stepped forward to touch his elbow. Snape flinched and Hermione quickly withdrew her hand. "Please, Professor... Let me help -"

"You can't! Harry will never forgive me. Never!" He pressed the back of his hand against his mouth as if to stop himself speaking. "Go, Miss Granger. I can't... I won't speak about this anymore!"

The front door opened and banged closed.

"Professor?"

"In here, Draco." Snape cast a hasty Evanesco to vanish the debris of the broken vial just as Draco entered the room.

"Granger. Sir...? What's going on here?" Draco frowned at Hermione. "Granger, what did you do!?"

"Excuse me?"

"Why does the professor look as if he's just seen a ghost?"

Hermione looked at Snape. She judged that she had never seen the man looking so heartbroken. Nearly losing Harry to Death Eaters in Hogsmeade obviously paled in comparison to having lost Harry by his own hand. Feeling a measure of pity for him she said: "Not a ghost. At least not yet."

Draco sneered. "Oh, I see. You're here bothering him about Potter."

Hermione let out a frustrated exhale. "Yes, I'm here about Harry. Honestly! Is obtuseness contagious in this family?"

"You know that what's going on between them is absolutely none of your concern, don't you?" Draco went on.

Hermione fixed the boy with a hair-raising glare. "If it involves Harry, it's my concern and then some!"

Draco bristled. "Why, you nosey little -"

Hermione put her hands on her hips. "Don't you dare -"

"Stop it!" Snape snapped. "Draco, I'm fine. Miss Granger, go to your dorm!"

"Not until we sort this out!" Hermione said, turning on the man, angry. "If you refuse to make things right, if Harry never forgives you, then on your head be it! But, if you love him the way I think you do, fight for him. Professor, Harry has a beautiful heart. He'll forgive you, but you have to try!"

Snape swayed, suddenly unsteady on his feet. He lurched two steps over to the sofa to lower himself down on to it; he dropped his head into his hands. Draco brushed past Hermione to sit before the man on the coffee table. He put a slim hand on Snape's shoulder and leaned in close, murmuring softly. He sighed when Snape shook his head.

When Hermione continued to hover, Draco said coldly over his shoulder, "Goodnight, Granger."

Hermione eyed Snape, expecting him to speak, but his head was still in his hands. Her eyes filled with angry tears.

"Right," she said. "Goodnight."

She was almost out of the room when Snape spoke softly, hesitantly: "Miss Granger... Wait."

Harry often wondered about that confrontation - the details of which Hermione had been eager to share, but Harry had refused to hear. Ron had wondered what "the git" had said to pull the wool over Hermione's eyes because he would never have "believed a word that came out of that fucker's mouth." Harry envied Ron's ability to distance himself from the situation and often thought that if he had adopted that same attitude last summer his life would not be such an utter cock up now.

"Could I have a word, please?" he said, coming to stand next to Hermione. Initially she had brightened, but after noting the chill dedication with which he was ignoring Snape, she sighed.

"Can it wait a moment, Harry?" She gestured toward Snape. "I'm kind of in the middle of -"

"No." Harry planted himself between the witch and wizard, his back to Snape, his face close to Hermione's. "I need to speak with you now."

Hermione's eyes flicked up to Snape's face. They lingered for several seconds before she looked back to Harry. "...Fine." Her lips barely moved. "Professor, please excuse us."

She had scarcely finished talking before Harry snagged her around her waist and began to steer her up the corridor at a fast clip. She fumed silently as they walked, but as soon as they stepped past the Fat Lady and entered the common room, she spoke.

"What -"

"Why is it every time I look up, you're talking to him?" Harry interrupted, his tone accusing and unfriendly.

"Harry it's not -"

"We talked about this. I don't want you discussing me with him. You know what he did and I don't want you acting as if none of it matters!"

"But -"

"I'd really appreciate a bit of loyalty!"

Hermione rocked backward as if he had slapped her. "Are you serious?" She squeaked - a clear sign of anger, but Harry plodded ahead anyway, like a bull in a china shop.

"Every time I look up, you're nattering with him! If it's not in the corridor, then it's after class! I'm sick of it!"

Hermione's chest rose and fell rapidly as her face turned a vibrant shade of red.

"Right." She somehow managed to make the word sound profane. "Professor Snape has obviously spoiled you so that you truly think you are the center of the universe! For your information, Mr. Potter," she poked his chest for emphasis, "you'd be shocked to know that while yes, I am worried about you, I'm also getting more and more nervous about N.E.W.T.S coming up next term, so when I do speak to him-which is perfectly within my rights to do-sometimes it's about applying for Potions apprenticeships abroad." She poked him again. "But judging from your behavior, I now realize that every spare second should have been spent in doglike dedication thinking only of you, because it's not as if nearly every waking moment of my life isn't already spent thinking about you, you self-centered ARSE! LOYALTY? How DARE YOU!" She screeched. And poked.

Harry flinched as if shot, thinking he would rather she had just kneed him in the crotch, twice, and been done with it! Then realizing that all activity in the common room had stopped, he looked around. Every eye in the room was on him and Hermione-well, mostly him because Hermione had rounded on her heel, stomped over to the portrait and kicked it open making the Fat Lady shriek in indignation.

Mortified, Harry stood frozen. He knew he should go after her, he wanted to go after her, but the utter certainty that she would hex him into a steaming pile of poo stopped him. Ginny, who had been watching the action from the squashy chair near the entrance, rose to stand before him.

"Harry, there was a time that I would have been glad to see you two arguing because I liked you. I've liked you since before my brothers rescued you from that Muggle madhouse you lived in and brought you to the Burrow."

Harry blinked as she shook her copper colored hair back off her shoulders. Ginny liked me?

"But the boy I liked would have never questioned the loyalty of one of his best friends because he knows them better than anyone. And he most certainly wouldn't have hurt his girlfriend the way you just hurt Hermione."

As Ginny spoke, Harry wished for a chasm to split open beneath his feet, for it to leach him out existence and suck him into a dimension where being an arse was impossible and apologizing to your girlfriend did not make facing Voldemort seem as dangerous as tangling with a puppy.

"You know, when she talks about you to Snape, she's just trying to help - trying to make sure you don't screw things up beyond all reason with him, because once you're over being so mad, once you've had time to think about how you really feel about him, you might actually want to forgive him." Ginny angled her chin toward the portrait. "Now, while I know you're terrified of being hexed stupider, you'd better go after her."

Ginny was right. Hermione had never been one to sit back and watch him fall apart; she was doing what she always did-looking out for him, anticipating his penchant for making bad situations worse.

Harry sighed. "Thanks, Ginny."

*WO

Room of Requirement, Hogwarts, April 1997 (06)

Hermione did not forgive Harry right away. She let him flounder in a vat of emotional quicksand for two of the longest days of his life. She had never been so slow to forgive him when they had just been friends, so the longer the silent-treatment went on, the more Harry realized how badly he had hurt her. When she finally agreed to talk to him, the ensuing conversation in the Room of Requirement had no shortage of shouting, screaming, and flapping of arms, but in her flushed, irate state, she had never looked so magnificent to Harry.

After she collapsed into a heap on the floor, Harry laid down beside her. He tried to gather her into his arms, but she lay ridged, resistant to his need to have her melt against him as she always did when he held her. Eventually he got his wish as her anger ebbed, giving way to tears. Harry let her cry, let her shift her body into the comforting hollow his created around hers when she was ready.

Once her tears ran their course, she lay quiet in the circle of his arms, her head on his chest. After a time she rose up onto her elbows to look down at him. He met her puffy-eyed, but steady gaze and reached to caress her cheek. Before he could touch her, she grabbed his wrist and forced it back to the floor.

"I hate you for making me feel this way." Her brown eyes flashed with hurt and anger; Harry's heart clenched in fear. "Never again, Harry Potter. Do you hear me? Never."

Then she covered his mouth with hers, muffling Harry's moan of relief.

WO*  

Later, they lay entwined, ensconced in their robes before a crackling fire. The warm colors reflected beautifully along Hermione's bare leg.

Harry told her what Ginny had said about Snape. He also told her that he was considering speaking to the man.

"I'm glad," Hermione said, giving him a squeeze. "He wants so much for you to forgive him. He believes you two can get past this, but if you don't, it's cruel to let him go on hoping."

"I know," Harry said, "but if I forgive him, he'll likely expect things to go back to the way they were." Harry grimaced. "I couldn't... couldn't be his son, Hermione. God! I just couldn't!"

"Oh, Harry, no one's asking you to take it that far, not even Snape."

"Yeah, but, if I don't forgive him, if I do cut him out of my life... I can't imagine it. As angry as I still am, I can't imagine my life without him in it." Harry shifted to settle his head on her stomach, then began to draw fluttery circles around the lovely mole on her hipbone.

"D'you wanna know what he said to me during an Occlumency lesson last year? He said weak people wear their hearts on their sleeves, that they can't control their emotions, and they wallow in sad memories." Harry paraphrased Snape's words flatly. "He thinks I'm weak, Hermione."

"He doesn't!"

"Then why would he say that?"

"Oh, Harry, he said that more than a year ago, when you both hated each other! And if he really believes that, if he really believed you're weak for loving someone, then he is too. When it comes to you, he's absolutely hopeless! He's always asking after you, wanting to know if you're eating, if you're still having nightmares."

"How did he -"

Hermione shrugged. "I never told him. He just knows. Harry, he knows you -"

Harry shook his head.

"Stop it!" Hermione put a hand to his cheek, forcing him to look up at her. "Stop sabotaging yourself! And stop putting words into Snape's mouth and projecting feelings onto him that aren't his!"

"It's just... I don't know what to do!"

"Oh, Harry, I know."

"I feel like I should have known that he was behind Voldemort targeting my parents."

"How could you have known that?"

"He'd always act so weird when I mentioned them. I thought it was because of how my father treated him when they were kids, but... Our first day of training he asked me to think of a safe place, but I couldn't do it without passing out. My mum kept coming to mind. I'd see her doing something completely normal, and then it'd bleed into the night when she was screaming -"

"Harry, don't..."

"No, it's fine. Really. I mean, I haven't had that dream since last summer, since that first session actually, but after I came round, told him what I'd seen, he looked at me... disgusted. I thought it was because he hated my mum like he hated my father, but now I get that it was because of what he'd done, that he felt responsible for her screaming like that."

"Harry -"

"Another time, he showed me a memory to prove that he'd tried to talk Sirius out of going to the Ministry. We'd had this knock down drag out row and I accused him of having something to atone for and he - gods Hermione, I wish you could have seen his face - it was like I'd ripped his heart out or something. I'd never seen him so... weak, so I kept at him. I'm sure he wanted to hit me. He didn't, though. Never until..." Hermione took his hand and kissed it. Harry gave her a weak smile, grateful. "There were just so many signs and I had no idea."

"I'm sure he wanted to tell you, but he didn't know how. With all he was beginning to feel for you, probably no time seemed right. He could never have expected to love you, Harry."

Harry uttered a soft laugh. "That's what Aberforth said... He also said that Snape talked about adopting me way back in September."

"I'm not surprised." Hermione smiled. "You know, despite anything you've said or done, he still loves you."

Harry said nothing because he knew that Snape's feelings for him had not changed an iota.

"Do you still love him?" Hermione asked.

"I..." Harry began, then he moved his head up and down in a ragged nod.

"Then why won't you talk to him? Please, Harry, this - it's just so awful, seeing you both so miserable!"

"I know... I just - I don't understand why this had to happen? Hermione, I don't understand whuh-whyyy!"

Hermione stroked his head, then shimmied down to take him in her arms. Harry curled into her and buried his face against her throat, salty tears spilling over his dark lashes. When he began to shake, Hermione rocked him gently.

WO*

The Great Hall, Hogwarts, April 1997 (10)

Harry always studied the scene up at the High Table at mealtimes, particularly at dinner. When Snape was present, Harry exhaled a sigh of relief, but when the man's seat was empty, panic bloomed within Harry and he would excuse himself to go to his dorm. There he would pull out the Marauder's map to hunt for Snape's dot. Several times over the past two weeks, it was nowhere to be found on the magical parchment and that could only mean one thing: Snape was leaving the school's grounds.

When trailing Snape before, trying to suss out what the man had been up to with Dumbledore, there had been times when Harry had not been able to spot Snape's dot on the map, but then, there had been no need to check it every day - he had been living with the man. And, add to that what Aberforth had said about Snape visiting him at the Hog's Head, then Snape leaving Hogwarts' grounds was nothing new. But Aberforth was gone now, so Harry knew with all certainty that Snape wasn't traveling to the village.

Thanks to Ron's inexhaustible fascination with Draco it became clear to Harry that the Slytherin worried just as much as he did when Snape was gone, so he was curious when at dinner one evening the boy made a beeline for him at the Gryffindor table.

"Follow me out?" Draco coolly ignored the mix of confounded and scandalized looks traveling the length of the table as he addressed Harry.

The two hadn't really spoken since Harry left the hospital wing, but Draco's grim expression prompted Harry to nod. Ron and Hermione's eyes followed him as he rose to leave; he raised a hand, indicating that it was okay. As he and Draco neared the exit, the blond boy looked up at the High Table. He dipped his chin and Harry knew that Snape was watching them. He had to force himself not to look to his left, to instead focus on Draco's back, but in his mind's eye, he saw the man mimicking Draco's nod, black brow crooked in curiosity at seeing the boys together.

"The professor has been keeping rather later and later nights the past few weeks," Draco said as the doors swept closed behind them. "When I ask, he says he's been in his office arranging for some big shipment for N.E.W.T.S., but a couple of times he hasn't returned until dawn. He told me it was nothing to concern myself with."

Harry scowled at the man's nerve. "Typical," he said. "So, what are you going to do?"

Draco's brows shot up. "Me? Don't you mean we?"

"We? - No, Malfoy! How could I -"

"Well why the hell did you bother to come out here then?"

"You asked me to!"

"Oh, yes, and you always do what I ask!"

"What did you expect?"

Draco's lip curled. "I expected you to act like you care, you mongrel! Like you give a damn if he lives or dies!"

Harry reddened and balled his hands into fists. "Malfoy -"

"You could help out, you know? Ease his mind instead of moping about and pissing on every effort he makes to do right by you!"

"Do right by me? Do right by me?! HE told Voldemort about the prophecy!" Harry roared. "He's the reason my parents are dead! He'd better do right by me!"

"You really need to get over yourself, Potter! Do you know that every time he leaves the castle he risks getting himself killed? All because he's trying to prove something to you, someone who doesn't care a knut for the sacrifices he's making!"

"I s'pose the punishment fits the crime, then."

Draco stared, eyeing Harry as though seeing him for the first time. "Gods, you're no better than my father. Blood thirsty, narcissistic, selfish -"

Harry's eyes bulged out of his head. "WHAT!"

Draco moved in close, his forehead nearly touching Harry's. "You're. No. Better. Than. My. Father," he repeated. The slight two inch height advantage he had over Harry (a thing that never failed to irk Harry) allowed him to effectively look down his nose at the Gryffindor. But Harry wasn't intimidated. He was pissed off.

He raised his hands, aiming to shove Draco away from him, but then Ron emerged from the Hall.

"Harry?" Ron observed Harry's livid expression and raised hands. He turned to Draco. "What the hell, Malfoy?"

"Butt out, Weasel!" Draco spat, his eyes glued to Harry's.

"Don't talk to him like that!" Harry growled, then shoved the boy.

After stumbling back several weirdly graceful paces, Draco righted himself. Then in the most unexpected of moves, he charged Harry, his right fist arcing in a swing aimed at Harry's face. He cried out when his knuckles raked across the pointy edge of Harry's glasses, scraping back a generous chunk of skin, yet, he found it within himself to grin when the heel of his wrist connected satisfyingly with Harry's eye, knocking the boy's unsightly spectacles askew and making the Gryffindor cry out.

But, when Draco had moved against Harry, Harry's hands were already in motion, primed to whack any part of the Slytherin that would bruise. The blunt sting of Draco's wrist meeting his eye only infuriated the Gryffindor more, so he crowed inwardly (and praised the elbow gods for his ridiculously pointy joints) when his right elbow split open Draco's bottom lip.

Now, with each having got in a painful shot, a free-for-all followed where they began to pummel each other with no regard of injury to themselves or anyone else within striking distance. With all the noise the two were making, curious students had begun to pour out of the Great Hall into the corridor. Frozen at the sight of the two boys beating each other bloody, Ron finally snapped to attention when Harry nailed Draco with his elbow again, this time in the chest, making the Slytherin gasp and double over.

"Oy!" Ron grabbed the back of Harry's robes. Harry grunted from the impact of flying through the air as Ron yanked him backward, away from Draco. Ron then shoved the enraged boy behind him. But Draco took only seconds to recover. In no time he was hissing and spitting like a trapped cobra. He lunged at Ron, scrabbling around him to reach Harry, but Ron manhandled the wriggling boy with ease, one-handed.

"Malfoy! Stop!" Ron bellowed. To Ron's utter surprise, Draco did.

Panting harshly, awareness hit and the Slytherin looked around, eyes a bit wild. Realizing he had become part of a spectacle being gawped at by half the school, he swallowed to calm himself. He went to straighten his robes and encountered Ron's hand on his chest; he knocked it away as if it burned.

"You know he could flatten you with a twitch of his finger, right?" Ron said, irritated at the boy's reaction.

"I'm not afraid of him." Draco muttered, though his hands shook when he smoothed his hair down; his mouth was bleeding, but he took no notice. "Just continue on with your little vendetta or temper tantrum or whatever the hell it is you're doing," he told Harry.

He started away, then turned back, his gray eyes strangely cold and fiery at once. "You already torched the certificate. Why not do the damned thing properly? Why not do the professor a favor and just rescind the adoption? That way he won't have to torture himself or possibly be at the mercy of others torturing him for your forgiveness! You fucking prat! You don't deserve him! You never did."

"You'd love it if I did that, wouldn't you?" Harry yelled. "‘Cause you're jealous!" He hunted for evidence the barb had struck a nerve, but far from looking hurt by Harry's insensitivity, Draco seemed saddened by it. This wound Harry up all over again. How dare Malfoy look at him like that! He wasn't the one in need of pity!

With a growl, Harry began to struggle furiously against Ron, but Ron had shifted backward, pinning Harry and Harry's hands, to the wall. Ron's back was lanky, but broad and while tingles from Harry's magic were a bit unnerving, Ron wagered Harry wouldn't hurt him, even to get at Draco. But Harry didn't need to hurt Draco physically; words packed a killer punch, too.

"You're just jealous because he HAD to take you in! He asked me to live with him! Do you hear me?! He ASKED me! You'll never take my place! Never! WANKER!" Harry shouted. Draco squared his jaw, then turned to make his way to the dungeons.

"That's quite enough, Potter!"

Harry and Ron turned to see Pansy Parkinson looking watery-eyed and furious. Neville stood to her right, while Theo and Blaise flanked her left side.

"This doesn't have a thing to do with you, Parkinson." Ron could hear the bitter dislike in Harry's voice and thought it misdirected.

"She's right, Harry," he said, though he sounded intensely uncomfortable saying so. Harry fell still behind him.

"Just whose side are you on?"

Ron growled as he whipped around to face Harry. "Yours, of course, but you really stepped a toe over the line with that comment!"

"What is all the shouting?" McGonagall. She looked a little ruffled for having fought her way through the swell of students bottlenecked at the Hall's entrance. "Potter, Weasley, I asked you a question!"

"Malfoy was giving Harry a hard time," Ron said, eyeing his friend's bloodless face. He could see that Harry already regretted his words to Draco, that Ron and Pansy's chastising had brought his ugly behavior to bear.

"Potter?" McGonagall said. "What happened to your eye?"

"Nothing." Harry muttered, flinching away from her probing gaze. He wouldn't be able to see its bloodshot and bruised condition until later, but his eye did hurt; Draco's hit had obviously gotten the job done far better than Harry had believed.

"Where is Draco?" Snape. He too had cleared a path through the students, though he hardly appeared the worse for wear like McGonagall.

Harry cringed, wondering if Snape had heard the cruel things he had just yelled at Draco. Judging from the man's concerned tone, Harry suspected that he had.

"Answer him, Potter," McGonagall said.

Careful to keep the left side of his face hidden from Snape, Harry ground out, "I don't know where he went. I'm not his keeper."

"That is obvious," Snape said coldly, and breezed past.

WO*